by Adele Whitby
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Voilà!” Madame Lorraine exclaimed as she stepped away from the dais. “You may open your eyes, Lady Betsy.”
My breath caught in my chest. For weeks, Madame Lorraine, the famous Parisian dressmaker, had been working on a custom gown for my twelfth birthday ball—which was less than a month away! And now the gown was nearly ready; all that was left for Madame Lorraine to do was add the trim. I kept my eyes shut for another second to savor the anticipation.
Then I looked in the mirror.
Was that really me looking back?
My new ball gown was the most gorgeous dress I’d ever seen. It was the color of the sky on a summery day; Madame Lorraine had ordered the shimmery silk charmeuse fabric all the way from China. The gown had capped sleeves and a fluttery skirt that hit just below my knees. Madame Lorraine’s creation was more gorgeous than I’d imagined it could be. And it wasn’t even finished yet!
I shivered—just the tiniest bit, really—but Mum noticed, of course, like she always noticed everything.
“Have you taken a chill, Betsy?” she asked, nodding at the goose prickles on my bare arms.
“A little,” I replied. “But mostly I’m excited!”
A knowing smile crossed Mum’s face. “Of course you are,” she said. Then she nodded at my new lady’s maid, Maggie. “But perhaps it is a bit too drafty in here for a fitting.”
Mum didn’t need to say another word; Maggie immediately crossed the room to close the windows. The April sunshine was so bright and cheery that we’d all wanted to enjoy it through the open windows without giving much thought to the chill in the morning air.
“It’s coming along beautifully, Madame Lorraine,” Mum continued. “What a lovely silhouette! So very modern.”
“Merci, Lady Beth,” said Madame Lorraine. “Have you and Lady Betsy selected the embellishments?”
“Yes, we have,” Mum replied. “We adore the velvet ribbon, but the satin ribbon will be more appropriate for the season. And while the purple beads have a lovely sheen, they don’t hold a candle to the gold ones. Nellie, would you please fetch them?”
“Certainly, milady,” Nellie, Mum’s lady’s maid, replied. Madame Lorraine had brought an entire trunk of trim with her—rolls of ribbons in every color, sparkling beads and rhinestones, and silk flowers more delicate than anything in the garden. It had been almost impossible to choose! In the end, though, Mum and I had both agreed that the shiny satin ribbon and sparkly gold beads would be just the thing to complement the gown—and the Elizabeth necklace, a precious family heirloom that I would receive on the day I turned twelve.
Every firstborn daughter in my family had been named Elizabeth in honor of my great-great-grandmother Elizabeth, who had been born almost one hundred years ago. We took different variations on the name “Elizabeth” for our nicknames—I went by Betsy, for example, while my mum went by Beth—but we were all Elizabeths, just like her. But there was even more to the family legacy than our names. There was the Elizabeth necklace.
When Great-Great-Grandmother Elizabeth turned twelve, she received a stunning gold pendant in the shape of half a heart, which was set with brilliant blue sapphires. Elizabeth’s twin sister, Katherine, had received a nearly identical necklace, but it was set with fiery red rubies instead. The necklaces weren’t just beautiful; they were deeply significant to each twin, since they were carefully chosen by their beloved mother, who died just a few months before their birthday. Their mother didn’t live to celebrate their birthdays with them, so the special gift she left for each of them became their most cherished possession.
When the two pendants were put together, they formed a single, whole heart, which was a perfect symbol for Elizabeth and Katherine, as they were almost never apart. But after the girls grew up, family obligations forced them to separate. As the slightly older twin, Elizabeth had been pledged to marry her cousin, Maxwell Tynne, in order to keep Chatswood Manor in the family. Meanwhile, Katherine had fallen in love with Alfred Vandermeer, and shortly after marrying, they emigrated from England to America, where her new husband founded Vandermeer Steel. The family lived in the beautiful and stately Vandermeer Manor, overlooking the ocean in Rhode Island. That’s where my cousin Kay Vandermeer Wilson, Katherine’s great-great-granddaughter, lived today. Kay and I weren’t just cousins; we were best friends, even though we’d never met. We had so much in common—we both loved Hollywood Hello magazine (me for the articles about radio plays, Kay for the photos of movie stars), dogs were our favorite animals, and our birthdays were just a month apart. And in two weeks, Kay and I would finally meet when she and her parents—Aunt Kate and Uncle Joseph—arrived in England to help celebrate my birthday! I already knew that meeting Cousin Kay for the first time would be the very best birthday present of all.
And to make things even more exciting, Mum and Aunt Kate had promised to tell Kay and me a secret on my birthday. A big secret that had been in the Chatswood family for generations. For months now, Kay and I had been trying to find out what it was. But neither Mum nor Aunt Kate would say another word about it. The suspense was driving us mad!
I shifted my weight ever so slightly as Mum and Madame Lorraine discussed the trim we’d selected.
“I think some beads around the neck, oui, and perhaps the sleeves,” Madame Lorraine said through a mouthful of pins. “Not too much, of course. Nothing ostentatious. A beauty like Lady Betsy needs no adornment; she will shine all on her own!”
I flushed with pleasure at the compliment. It was an honor to have Madame Lorraine design my ball gown. My mother’s French cousin, Gabrielle, had surprised us by insisting that Madame Lorraine, her personal dressmaker, travel all the way to Chatswood Manor just to make my special birthday dress. In a few weeks, Cousin Gabrielle would also be joining us for the birthday festivities. I scarcely knew Gabrielle, whose glamorous life in Paris kept her too busy for country holidays at Chatswood Manor, but I was excited about having a house full of visitors. Ever since my father died when I was just a baby, Mum and I had been on our own. We made a good team—Mum and I did almost everything together—but sometimes I secretly wished that our little family were larger. What a change it would be to have the Wilsons and Cousin Gabrielle at Chatswood Manor! Just the thought of laughter at breakfast and cozy evenings in the parlor made me smile. I knew Mum was as eager as I was for our extended family to arrive.
“You know, I am having another thought,” Madame Lorraine mused. She snipped a length of ribbon off the roll, her silver scissors flashing in the sunlight. “What if we add a belt from this ribbon, like so? I will make a buckle to match . . . perhaps even embroider some beads on it. . . .”
“A belt? Instead of a sash?” Mum said, frowning a little. “Wouldn’t that be a bit casual?”
“Non, non. I can assure you, it is the very latest fashion in Paris,” replied Madame Lorraine.
“What do you think, Betsy?” Mum asked me.
“Yes! I love that idea,” I said. “I think a beaded belt would be smashing.”
“How much times have changed since my own birthday ball,” Mum said. “My gown was blue as well, but entirely different in style. It was full length, with a gorgeous overskirt made of shimmery tulle. And I wore gloves with my gown, of course—gloves that stretched all the way past my elbows.”
“Ahh, o
ui, gloves for Lady Betsy as well, I think,” Madame Lorraine said.
“Well, I’m glad to know that fashions haven’t changed that much,” Mum said with a laugh.
“I remember when Miss Kate—I suppose I should call her Mrs. Wilson—was getting ready for her twelfth birthday ball,” Nellie reminisced. “She hated her fittings—called them frightfully dull wastes of time. The dressmaker was forever begging her to stand still!”
We all laughed—even Madame Lorraine.
“Then one day, I started reading to Miss Kate to take her mind off the torture of her fittings,” Nellie continued. “It did the trick. We had a bit of a reading club back then. Oh, we loved stories more than anyone else in Vandermeer Manor.”
“But not more than me,” I teased. “Tell me the story, Nellie, of how you came to England. Please!” I always wanted to hear about how Mum’s maid, Shannon, had fallen in love with the Vandermeers’ chauffeur, Hank, when Mum had visited Aunt Kate as a girl. Rather than watch Shannon return to England and leave true love behind, Mum and Aunt Kate had conspired to help Nellie and Shannon switch places! It was a thrilling and romantic tale, the sort of story I would expect to hear on the radio during one of my favorite programs. I could hardly believe it had happened in real life!
“A favorite story, to be sure,” Mum said, “but I think some refreshments are in order first. Would you mind fetching a tray from the kitchen?”
“I’ll go,” Maggie volunteered.
“No, no. You stay in case Lady Betsy needs anything,” Nellie said. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“There,” Madame Lorraine announced. “What do you think of the belt? I will add the beads later, of course.”
“Oh, it’s perfect!” I cried.
“Very cunning,” Mum said, sounding pleased. “The perfect accoutrement!”
There was a soft rap at the door. It was one of the footmen, Adam.
“Beg your pardon, milady,” he said to Mum, “but you’ve a telephone call. Long-distance, from America.”
“America!” I cried. “It’s got to be Aunt Kate!”
In one swift motion, Mum rose to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, Madame Lorraine,” she said smoothly. “But I must take this call.”
“Mum! Wait for me!” I spoke up.
But she had already hurried out of the room.
I jumped off the dais and felt a dozen pins stab me where Madame Lorraine had placed the ribbon. “Ow!” I cried.
“Wait, please, mademoiselle,” Madame Lorraine urged. “Do not move until I loosen the pins.”
“Maggie, would you help her, please?” I said. It was a rare treat to talk to our American relatives on the phone, and I didn’t want to miss a moment of it. Mum always let me sit beside her and listen to her part of the conversation. And best of all, sometimes Mum even let me say hello to Cousin Kay!
The seconds ticked away while Maggie and Madame Lorraine loosened the pins enough for me to wriggle out of the gown.
“Would you like to wear your pink dress again, Lady Betsy?” Maggie asked, moving slower than a swan as she reached for the dress I’d chosen that morning. “Or did you have another ensemble in mind for the afternoon?”
I took one look at the dainty buttons on the dress and shook my head. “There’s no time for that,” I replied as I reached for my silk dressing gown. I flung the gown over my starched white slip and bolted from the room, tying the sash as I hurried down the stairs toward the library. There I found Mum, holding on to the edge of her oak desk as if to steady herself.
“Oh, Kate,” she said into the receiver. “Oh, no . . .”
The expression on Mum’s face—a strangled look of shock and dismay—was not one I would soon forget. I just knew that the news was bad. Oh, please, I thought. Not Kay. Not Uncle Joseph. Please let them be all right.
Without saying a word, I reached for Mum’s hand. She was so engrossed in the call that I don’t think she noticed me until she felt the warmth of my touch. Mum pulled her hand from my grasp and covered the mouthpiece.
“Betsy, I need to speak privately with Aunt Kate.”
“But I—”
“Not now,” she said firmly.
Then Mum returned to the telephone, keeping her eyes fixed on me as I left the library. She didn’t start speaking again until I reached the door.
I stood alone in the hallway, stunned, trying to understand what had just happened. Mum had never asked me to leave the library while she was on the telephone—never. And especially not when she was talking to Aunt Kate! Something terrible must have happened, and the longer I stood there, the heavier my worries grew. How could I possibly wait until Mum was off the phone to find out what had happened?
Suddenly, I realized that my hand was still on the doorknob. And the door was still open a crack. In my shock, I had neglected to close it all the way.
If I leaned forward—if I didn’t make a single sound—it was entirely possible that I could still hear Mum’s part of the conversation.
It wouldn’t be wrong to listen in, I tried to convince myself. Mum and I don’t have secrets from each other. Not even one. And I’m sure she’ll tell me everything later, anyway. She always does.
Holding my breath, I leaned toward the sliver of light peeking through the crack. Sure enough, I could hear Mum’s voice if I strained my ears. I concentrated all my energy on listening, doing my best to ignore the guilt pricking at my conscience.
“But, Kate, I don’t know why he would—surely he knew—of course, of course—”
“Lady Betsy!”
I spun around as if I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Maggie had crept up behind me so quietly that I hadn’t even noticed her—not until her words pierced my ears. Oh, no—what if Mum heard her too? I wondered.
“You’re not—you’re not listening at the door, are you?” Maggie continued, altogether too loud for my liking.
Annoyance burned inside me. “Shhh!” I hissed as I pulled Maggie down the hall. “I wasn’t—Mum never keeps her phone calls with Aunt Kate a secret from me. I was just—”
Maggie’s nose crinkled into a disapproving frown. Oh, come now, I thought to myself. There’s no need for her to look so scandalized.
“Then why weren’t you in the room with her, milady?”
My mouth opened and closed, for I didn’t have a satisfactory answer at the ready. Maggie must’ve sensed that, because she put her arm around my back and began to guide me to my room.
“Listening at doors is beneath a young lady of your stature,” Maggie said in a gentle voice, but my cheeks still burned with embarrassment. “Come along, Lady Betsy. Madame Lorraine is still in your room, and it’s not right to lurk in corridors and keep her waiting.”
I spoke not one word to Maggie for the entire walk back to my room, thinking that there would be no better way to express my displeasure with her. Not for the first time, I found myself wishing that my former lady’s maid, Emily, was by my side instead. It was five weeks since Emily had retired from service, and not a day went by that I didn’t miss her. Emily knew me better than anyone else (except for Mum, of course). She would’ve understood that I wasn’t really eavesdropping. She would’ve understood how unbearable it was to wait for information about the troubling news from America.
I kept my silence even after Madame Lorraine had returned to her work, snipping and pinning lengths of the silky ribbon to my gown. Meanwhile, Maggie studiously examined all the dresses in my wardrobe, setting aside the winter ones that I would no longer wear now that spring had arrived. Several long minutes passed like this until Mum finally returned to the room. One look at her face told me that she’d been crying, though she was as composed as usual.
“Well!” she said, with forced cheer in her voice. “Where are we, Madame Lorraine?”
“Mum, what did Aunt Kate say?” I said. “Is everything all right? Please tell me. I’ve been so worried.”
Mum looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Yes, Betsy, of cour
se. I would prefer to tell you this later, after your fitting is done, but I do hate to see you so distressed and you’ve a right to know. . . .”
Her voice trailed off as a thoughtful expression crossed her face, leaving me in agony until she spoke again.
“There’s no easy way to tell you this, my dear,” Mum finally said. “Our cousins’ circumstances are dire, and they will not be able to attend your birthday ball.”
“Mum, no!” I cried. “How can—I don’t understand.” The plans for Cousin Kay and her parents to travel to England for my birthday had been made months ago. What could have happened to alter them now, when my birthday was just a few weeks away?
“I’m afraid that’s not all,” Mum continued. “In addition, they’ve had to cancel Cousin Kay’s birthday ball.”
Poor Kay! My eyes filled with tears. “How did this happen?” I asked, my voice strained from the lump in my throat.
“It’s partly the Depression, darling,” Mum said. “Do you remember what I told you about it?”
I nodded slowly. It was very complicated stuff, tricky to understand, but a few years back the stock market in New York had crashed, and fortunes were lost around the globe. Then jobs were lost, and homes, until people on every continent were struggling. The Times had just begun to report about the first hopeful signs of recovery here in England, but in America, things were far worse; an enormous number of Americans were still living in poverty. Many of them had nothing to eat and nowhere to live. There had even been a photograph in the newspaper of a breadline, where small children waited for hours in hopes of getting something to eat. It was their little feet that I couldn’t forget: shoeless, smudged with dirt from the gutter.
“But . . .” My voice trailed off as I searched for the right words. “But the Vandermeers are the wealthiest family in Rhode Island. Vandermeer Steel is one of the largest steel manufacturers in the country!”
Mum sighed. “Vandermeer Steel is burdened with debt that it cannot possibly repay right now,” she explained. “When Aunt Kate’s father died, her brother—Uncle Alfie—became the president of Vandermeer Steel. Unfortunately, Uncle Alfie embarked on several foolish ventures that have imperiled Vandermeer Steel and devastated the family fortune.”
