Kate's Story, 1914

by Adele Whitby

  A smile spread across Essie’s face. “Yes, Miss Kate, I think I’d like that very much.”

  I handed the letter to Essie and ran out the door as quickly as I could. The last sparks were falling into the ocean when I reached the courtyard, breathless and disheveled. I glanced around anxiously, but no one seemed to be looking for me.

  Then my eyes met Great-Grandmother Katherine’s. She stood at the opposite end of the courtyard, watching me. She must’ve seen my madcap dash through the ballroom.

  I’ve got to talk to her, I realized. Tonight. I wanted to talk to her about Essie . . . and about her mother’s letter to Elizabeth.

  It wasn’t easy to get through the crowd as everyone made their way back inside. Suddenly, Alfie appeared before me. “Hey, Sis! Hold up.”

  “Not now, Alfie. I really have to—”

  “But I haven’t given you your birthday present yet.”

  He held out a big box tied with a red ribbon. I eyed it with suspicion. Who knew what lurked inside? Then I noticed the large air holes poked all over the box.

  “Oh, no,” I said. “No, no, no.”

  “Trust me, Kate. You’re going to love it.”

  “I don’t want one of your disgusting frogs, Alfie. No, thank you.” I pushed the box back toward him . . . and heard the sweetest, faintest little meow.

  My eyes grew wide. “Was that . . . ?”

  Alfie grinned at me. “Told ya you’d love it.”

  I ripped off the ribbon and found a tiny orange-and-white kitten staring up at me with golden eyes. “Oh! Alfie! How did you—”

  He scuffed his shoe along the ground. “I knew I couldn’t compete with the Katherine necklace,” he said. “But I thought little Scruffers here would be a fine runner-up.”

  “Scruffers? That’s an awful name,” I chided my brother, but my smile told him I was teasing. “Alfie, would you ask Shannon to bring the kitten to my room? I have to talk to . . .”

  I trailed off. When I looked across the courtyard, my great-grandmother was gone.

  I waited all evening, but Great-Grandmother Katherine never returned to the party. I knew I couldn’t sneak away again—not when there were candles to blow out and cake to cut and waltzes to dance. It was nearly midnight when the last guests departed; I hardly dared to hope that my great-grandmother would still be awake. Her bedroom door was shut tightly, and I couldn’t tell if her light was on. I wish I could knock, I thought as I hovered in the hallway. But it would be wrong to wake her.

  “Miss Kate? Can I help you?” It was Gladys, carrying a cup of warm milk and four sugar cookies on a small plate.

  My heart leaped. “Is my great-grandmother still awake?” I asked excitedly.

  “Yes,” she said. “Though not by choice. Sleep has proved elusive tonight.”

  That explains the milk, I thought. “Would you tell her that I’d like to speak with her?”

  Gladys pursed her lips. “Miss Kate, she is very tired. Perhaps you can speak with her in the morning instead?”

  I tried not to sigh. “Of course,” I said. “Thank you, Gladys.”

  Back in my room, Shannon was playing with the kitten. “Miss Kate! What a darling birthday present.”

  “Isn’t she sweet?” I asked as I sat on the floor.

  “And pretty, too,” Shannon said. “With ginger hair like your cousin.”

  I smiled; the kitten’s fur did look a lot like Beth’s hair. “Maybe I should call you Bethie,” I said to the kitten.

  “That’s a fine idea,” a new voice said.

  Great-Grandmother Katherine was standing in the doorway!

  “Gladys brought me too many cookies,” she said. “Would you like some? Then we can both have sweet dreams tonight.”

  “Miss Kate, I’ll fetch you some milk,” Shannon said as she rose.

  Great-Grandmother Katherine, all bundled in her dressing gown, crossed the room and sat on the edge of my bed. I climbed up next to her, cradling Bethie in my arms. Great-Grandmother Katherine placed her wrinkled hand on mine. “What a birthday, Kate! I hope you had a grand time.”

  I nodded. I’d had a wonderful birthday, although I was missing Beth desperately.

  Great-Grandmother Katherine must have read my mind. “All day I’ve wanted to talk to you, Kate. I’m so sorry that Beth had to leave. It is never easy to say good-bye to someone you love.”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “But times are different now,” she continued. “The ocean gets less and less difficult to cross. I have no doubt that you and Beth will see each other again—hopefully soon.”

  “I hope so,” I replied.

  “And heaven knows what you girls will get up to next time!” she said, chuckling. “It did me good to see you two cavorting about the house, whispering your secrets and concocting your plans. It reminded me of my dear sister and the sweet days of our youth at Chatswood Manor.”

  “Great-Grandmother,” I began. “I have to tell you something. I know about Essie.”

  She didn’t blink. “Yes, I thought as much,” she said. “Beth brought Essie’s journal all the way from Chatswood, I suppose.”

  “How did you know?”

  “The chant, of course—the one you girls did with your necklaces in the alcove.” Great-Grandmother Katherine smiled. “I was visiting Essie in the East Wing, and we heard every word. There was only one way you could’ve known about it: from Essie’s journal. I laughed, but she was horrified to think of Beth scurrying through Chatswood’s secret passages.”

  My great-grandmother leaned forward. “Did you put the necklaces together?” she asked in an excited whisper. “Did you find the secret compartment?”

  My smile faded. “Yes,” I said slowly. “We did.”

  “And the puzzle? Were you able to solve it?”

  “Apart forever.”

  A mysterious smile flickered across my great-grandmother’s face. “No wonder the long face. That would be a sad phrase to find, wouldn’t it?

  “My sister and I wrote a message—more like a promise to each other, I should say—long ago when we were just girls still,” she continued. “Then we cut it into tiny pieces and hid half of them in my necklace, and half of them in hers. That way, we would always carry the message close to our hearts.”

  She lifted the Katherine necklace and shook it close to my face. I strained my ears to listen. Then I heard the faint rustle of paper.

  “Seems to me that some of the letters are still inside,” she said. “And maybe some are still inside the Elizabeth necklace too.”

  “So what does the message really say?”

  Great-Grandmother Katherine looked beyond me into the distance. “A part of you forever,” she recited with one hand pressed to her chest.

  I was so relieved that I started to laugh. “Oh, that’s so much better!” I exclaimed. “And now I’ve got to see Beth again so that we can unlock the rest of the letters.”

  “I quite agree.”

  All this talk about letters made me remember the real reason why I wanted to speak with her. “I have to ask you something,” I began. “As you know, I discovered Essie’s room this morning. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop. I had no idea she was there, Great-Grandmother.”

  She smiled at me. “I suppose I’m grateful that my ruse about the ghost worked for as long as it did.”

  I pressed on. “I found the letter that your mother wrote to Elizabeth,” I said. “But where is yours?”

  Great-Grandmother Katherine closed her eyes. The moments passed and still she did not speak. The she leaned forward and took both my hands in hers. I sat up straight; for some reason, my heart had started pounding.

  “Kate,” she began. “I have something to tell you.”

  I rolled over and stretched, enjoying the coziness of my silk down comforter. A housemaid had already been in to build up my fire, the gentle warmth it gave off welcome on these chilly June mornings. I could almost hear the house, Chatswood Manor, waking with me, ready to greet a
nother day.

  I knew that downstairs, servants were going about their morning routines, quietly bustling about, opening curtains, building fires, dusting, and cleaning. Our cook, Mrs. Fields, was no doubt scolding the kitchen maids to work more efficiently to whip eggs or slice bread for our breakfast, and Mr. Fellows, the butler, would be instructing the footmen on their tasks for the day before reading the newspaper and finishing his own breakfast in the servants’ dining room. Mr. Fellows made a point of talking to Papa about the news of the day every morning when he served our meal in the family dining room.

  Early morning was my favorite time of day. For a few moments every morning, when my mind was no longer asleep but not quite fully awake, I could almost forget that Mama had died just a few weeks ago.

  But then, as always, I remembered. That now-familiar sinking feeling crept into my chest and settled in my heart. Next came the sting of tears behind my eyelids.

  I sat up and reached for the silken bellpull that would call my lady’s maid, Essie Bridges.

  I promised myself that I would stop this, I thought, wiping my eyes. And more important, I promised Katherine. We made a vow to be strong for each other, and for Papa.

  It was as if Katherine, my twin, could read my thoughts. At that moment, she walked through the dressing closet that connected our two bedchambers and leaned against the wall, a sleepy half smile on her face. Her eyes, too, had a trace of tears.

  Katherine and I were so nearly identical that only Mama could tell us apart in an instant. The only obvious physical difference between us was in our hair: Katherine’s had a lovely natural wave while mine was stick straight. I envied Katherine that wave she had in our hair, while Katherine envied the fact that I was a half inch taller than she and five minutes older. I teased her that I would gladly give her my half inch in height if she would give me her wavy hair.

  “I just heard Papa’s valet in the hall instructing Mrs. Cosgrove to meet us in the library after breakfast. We’re going to discuss the guest list for the birthday ball,” Katherine said. “We’d better ring for Essie.”

  “I was just about to,” I said, reaching again for the bellpull. The pull was connected to a bell in the servants’ hall downstairs, where our ladies’ maid, Essie, would hear it and come to our aid. Essie had been with Katherine and me since we were very young. We loved her dearly. It was Essie who helped to dry our tears after Mama died and Essie who always knew just what to say when we were feeling down or scared. She wasn’t a blood relative, of course, but she was as much family to us as we were to each other.

  I can still remember the first time Katherine and I met Essie. Essie has told me that I was too little to really remember all of these details, but I swear I do! Katherine and I were puzzling over the alphabet in the nursery, trying to put our blocks in the correct order, when Essie came in, a bright smile on her pretty face. Immediately, I knew that she was different from all of the other servants I was used to seeing. There was something very special about her. She crouched down next to us and told us her name was Essie Bridges and that she was going to help take very good care of us. Then she attempted to help us with our letters, but as it turned out, she didn’t know them either. Later, after Katherine and I were taught to read and write by our tutors, we taught what we had learned to Essie. She resisted at first, telling us it wasn’t a good use of her time and that our parents weren’t paying her to learn; they were paying her to care for us. But Katherine and I insisted! We kept after her until she relented. It didn’t seem right to us that Essie couldn’t enjoy reading books as we could. She was a quick study—I daresay she learned even more easily than Katherine and I had. But then again, perhaps she had better teachers!

  While we waited for Essie this morning, Katherine plopped onto my bed to talk about our birthday, which was just over two weeks away. We had had parties before, of course, but for our twelfth birthday, Papa was throwing us a true birthday ball with more guests than we could count, a full orchestra, and beautiful custom-made dresses to wear. We had even been taking lessons with a dancing master.

  This party was going to be the most spectacular social event of the season, perhaps even the year! In getting ready for the ball, it was as if Papa’s estate, Chatswood Manor, and all of its inhabitants were shrugging off our sadness about Mama and beginning to live again.

  “I can’t wait to waltz with someone other than Mr. Wentworth,” Katherine said.

  We were giggling and whispering about dancing with boys when we heard a quiet knock on the door.

  “Come in, Essie,” I called.

  “Good morning, Lady Elizabeth. Good morning, Lady Katherine,” Essie said, walking quickly into the room and smiling at us as she did each and every morning. “What are you girls giggling about?” she asked us in a mock-serious voice.

  “Nothing!” Katherine and I said in unison.

  “Now, I’m quite sure I don’t believe that!” Essie replied, her grin widening. “Something tells me you were whispering and giggling about your party! Am I right?”

  Katherine and I nodded. “We’re going over the guest list with Papa and Mrs. Cosgrove after breakfast this morning,” I added.

  “I’ve a list of questions for you from Mrs. Fields and Mrs. Cosgrove,” Essie replied, digging through the pockets of her apron until she found a small piece of paper. “We can go through some of them while I get you girls dressed and ready for the day. Beginning with what kinds of flowers you’d like.”

  “Blue hydrangeas,” Katherine said.

  “Red roses,” I announced at the same time.

  Then we laughed. Katherine’s favorite color was blue, and mine was red. Of course we each wanted the flowers to be in our own favorite color.

  Essie laughed along with us as she opened the doors to my armoire. She was used to us saying opposite things. It happened almost as often as we said exactly the same thing! Essie liked to say that she never knew what to expect from us. I figured that made us exciting to be around!

  Adele Whitby wishes she lived in a grand manor home with hidden rooms and tucked-away nooks and crannies, but instead she lives in the next best thing—a condo in Florida with her husband and their two dogs, Molly and Mack. When she’s not busy writing, you can usually find her reading and relaxing on the beach under a big umbrella. She loves getting lost in a good story, especially one set in a faraway place and time.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SIMON SPOTLIGHT

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  This Simon Spotlight edition June 2014

  Copyright © 2014 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. Text by Ellie O’Ryan.

  Illustrations by Jaime Zollars. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. SIMON SPOTLIGHT and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Designed by Laura Roode. The text of this book was set in Adobe Caslon Pro.

  Jacket design by Laura Roode

  Jacket illustrations by Jaime Zollars

  Jacket illustrations copyright © 2014 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  ISBN 978-1-4814-0635-2 (hc)

  ISBN 978-1-4814-0634-5 (pbk)

  ISBN 978-1-4814-0636-9 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2013943811