Betsy’s Story, 1934

by Adele Whitby

  “So it’s gone, then?” I asked numbly. “The Katherine necklace is really and truly gone?”

  To my surprise, Mum smiled. “No, Betsy, and that’s the wonderful news. I’ve found the man who bought it, and as luck would have it, he’s just arrived in London on business!”

  “Really?” I cried.

  Mum nodded happily. “Yes, really. And best of all, he’s agreed to sell the Katherine necklace to me. In fact, I’m on my way to town to send him a telegram to confirm that I will meet him at the Savoy in London in two days’ time! Then we’ll have the Katherine necklace safe and sound until we can return it to Aunt Kate and Kay. Not via the post, though. . . . Once the necklace is in my possession, I shan’t part with it until I put it directly in Kate’s hands.”

  “Post?” I asked. “You mean you’ve got their new address?”

  “Why, yes, Betsy, didn’t I tell you?” Mum asked in surprise. “Aunt Kate included it in her telegram. The news about the Katherine necklace was so heartbreaking that it must’ve slipped my mind to tell you.”

  “That’s all right,” I told her. “I’ve been writing a letter to Kay ever since the phone call.”

  “Oh, I feel just dreadful,” Mum replied. “I’m sorry, Betsy. You’ll be able to mail your letter today.”

  “Where are they living now?”

  “For the foreseeable future, they’ll remain at Vandermeer Manor in the groundskeeper’s cottage,” Mum explained.

  “So they haven’t lost their home?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  I put my hand to my head, feeling almost dizzy with gratitude for this unexpectedly happy ending. It had been such a whirlwind of news that I felt quite overwhelmed.

  “Betsy,” Mum said suddenly. “Would you like to come to London with me to purchase the Katherine necklace?”

  “Oh, would I!” I exclaimed as I hugged Mum. “Thank you, Mum!”

  “We’ll make a day of it, just the two of us,” Mum promised. “Shopping in the morning, lunch at the Savoy, perhaps a visit to the Victoria and Albert Museum in the afternoon. An early birthday present!”

  A perfect birthday present, I thought as I rested my head against Mum’s shoulder. “I hated having secrets between us.”

  “As did I,” Mum replied. “But sometimes secrets are necessary—vital, even—whether we like them or not.”

  I squirmed a bit on the hard stone bench. I still hadn’t told Mum my theory that Gabrielle was behind all the mean-spirited gossip—but this didn’t seem like the right time, especially since I didn’t have proof. I didn’t want to do anything that might upset Mum, or harm our relationship just when we’d finally mended it.

  I’ll keep quiet about my suspicions for now, I decided. The time to tell Mum is when I have proof—and not before.

  “Let’s continue on to town,” Mum said. “After we telegram the American gentleman—his name is Mr. O’Brien—we’ll pop by the bakery. I don’t know about you, but I think a sticky bun would be quite nice.”

  I grinned at Mum. Of course she knew that sticky buns were my favorite. But what I’d enjoy the most would be sharing one with her.

  I’d thought that nothing could top the perfectly lovely morning Mum and I spent in town—but there was even better news awaiting us when we got home. The moment we returned, Mr. Embry approached us, carrying a silver tray with a pale yellow envelope and a letter opener.

  “A letter from Lady Gabrielle,” he explained as he presented the tray to Mum.

  “A letter?” Mum asked. She read it right there in the entryway. “How peculiar,” Mum said when she finished. “Cousin Gabrielle has been unexpectedly called away on an errand. She hopes to be back in time for your birthday, Betsy, and says that she wants to be there when you receive the Elizabeth necklace.”

  “An errand?” I echoed. “What sort of errand?”

  “She doesn’t say,” replied Mum. “It’s quite mysterious, really.”

  More like suspicious, I thought. But then I decided to enjoy the break from Gabrielle as long as it lasted. Besides, maybe some time away from Gabrielle would help Mum see her for who she really was.

  “Betsy, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to,” Mum said. “Make sure you tell Maggie about our trip to London. She’ll want to make sure your traveling clothes are in order.”

  “I will, Mum. And thank you again. Thank you for everything!” I told her.

  Instead of ringing for Maggie, though, I went downstairs to find her—mainly because I also wanted to pop by the kitchen to see Juliette. I knew she’d be just as pleased as I was to learn that Gabrielle was gone . . . for a few days, at least.

  As soon as she saw me, Juliette stopped what she was doing and hurried over.

  “I heard all about last night,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Horrid. Just dreadful, really, that that miserable woman enjoys a meal at your table while you’re banished to your room. You poor, poor dear.”

  “Oh, that?” I said with a shrug. “That’s no matter. It’s over and done with, anyway. Besides, I have good news—Gabrielle is gone!”

  Juliette’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “Gone? Just like that?” she exclaimed. “How can this be? No one has said a word—”

  “It just happened,” I explained. “She left a note for Mum—something about an errand that would take her away for a few days. Hopefully, she won’t come back!”

  “Well, that is good news,” replied Juliette. “No wonder you look so cheerful, milady.”

  “That’s not all,” I said. “In two days, Mum’s taking me to London!”

  “Really!” Juliette said. “What a surprise. I’m sure you and your mother will have a delightful time . . . though everything in London is very expensive. Did your mother give a reason for the visit? Perhaps she has an appointment at one of the banks? Oh, do you think she is asking for a loan?”

  I shook my head vehemently. “Oh, no, nothing like that. We’re going because . . .” My voice trailed off as I wondered if I should tell Juliette about the Katherine necklace. Mum hadn’t said it was a secret . . . but it felt like it should be one. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t say.”

  “You can’t say?” Juliette repeated. “Or you won’t say?”

  I smiled apologetically, my lips sealed.

  Juliette abruptly turned away from me, smoothing her apron as she approached the counter. “You’re not the only one with a secret. I have one of my own.”

  My curiosity immediately got the better of me. “What is it?”

  “I don’t dare tell . . . not unless you promise that you won’t tell another living soul.”

  “I promise.”

  For a long moment, she was silent, and I wondered if Juliette had thought better of sharing her secret. Then, at last, she spoke.

  “I have a sister. Her name is Helena,” she began.

  “I didn’t know that you have a sister!” I exclaimed. It seemed odd that during all our conversations, Juliette had never once mentioned her.

  “She started out in service, just like me,” continued Juliette. “She was a lady’s maid to a prominent French family with a dreadfully spoiled daughter. Helena did her best to please the miserable girl, but there was nothing my sister could do that would satisfy her. Then, one terrible day, Helena was blamed for something the horrible daughter had ordered her to do. She lost her position and was dismissed without a reference. It brought shame to my entire family.”

  “I’m so sorry, Juliette,” I said. “That’s dreadful.”

  “That’s not even the worst of it,” Juliette said. “Without a reference, Helena was never able to find another position in service. Her entire life depends on the charity of others. Without our family, my sister would be a pauper.”

  “There’s nothing more important than family,” I agreed. “Helena is lucky to have a sister like you.”

  Juliette looked as if she wanted to say something else, but she held her tongue.

  “You know, you should
tell Mum about Helena,” I suggested. “I don’t think there are any positions open right now, but perhaps Mum would hire Helena as a housemaid. Or a scullery maid! Then you two could work together in the kitchen.”

  “Non, non, non!” Juliette said rapidly. “Non, milady. This is why I swore you to secrecy, and why I never speak of my sister. I was forced to leave France to escape the cloud of suspicion that hung over our family. If the others at Chatswood learned of the accusations against Helena . . . what would they think of me? What if I too lost my position in disgrace?”

  “That will never happen,” I assured Juliette. “You mustn’t worry about such things, Juliette. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Thank you, milady,” she replied. “So why is your mother taking you to London?”

  I shook my head. “I already told you it’s a secret.”

  “But I told you my secret,” Juliette pressed. “So now you must tell me yours.”

  “I’m very sorry, but I can’t,” I said. “I can’t tell anyone, not even Cousin Kay. Which reminds me, I’ve got to finish the letter I’ve been writing to her so that I can send it off with the afternoon post. Can you believe that—”

  But Juliette had turned her back on me. “I’m very busy at the moment, Lady Betsy. My apologies that I can’t entertain you any longer today.”

  I’m sure Juliette meant no harm, but her abrupt dismissal felt like a slap. “Of course,” I said when I recovered my composure. “I’m sorry that I interrupted you.”

  Then I left the kitchen straightaway. But before I returned to my room, I remembered that the whole point of going downstairs was to tell Maggie about my upcoming trip to London. I found her in the servants’ common room, attending to a bit of darning.

  “Of course, milady. I’ll see to your traveling suit today,” Maggie told me. “A light steam and an airing outside will do the trick.”

  “Thank you very much,” I told her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a letter to send—at last!”

  On the way back to my room, I stopped by the library to get a stamp from Mum, and we chatted for a bit about which hat would look best with my traveling suit. Then I really had to scurry to get my letter ready for the afternoon post! My desk was so untidy that it took me a moment to find an envelope, and as soon as I did, I addressed it to Cousin Kay, then reached for the letter I’d been writing to her for the last few weeks.

  There was just one problem: It wasn’t in the drawer where I’d left it.

  I shuffled through the papers on the top of my desk, but the letter wasn’t there, either.

  After an hour spent searching my entire bedroom and asking Maggie and the housemaids if they’d seen my letter, there was only one conclusion to be reached.

  My letter to Cousin Kay—all eight pages of it—had disappeared.

  Two days later, Mum and I took the early train to London. I was so excited about the trip that I didn’t even mind waking up before dawn! The sun was well up by the time we arrived, bathing the bustling city in beautiful golden light. Compared to the stillness of the countryside around Chatswood Manor, the noisy bustle of London made it seem like the kind of place where anything could happen.

  Mum and I spent the morning shopping, just as she’d promised. Though we saw many fine things, from stylish hats and elegant shoes to lavish parasols and decadent jewelry, it was hard to concentrate on them, knowing that the Katherine necklace awaited us at the Savoy.

  “There’s just one more stop before we meet with Mr. O’Brien,” Mum told me as she paused before a blue sign that read BILLINGHAM’S STATIONERY AND PAPER GOODS. “Here we are.”

  “What’s this?” I asked as we entered the store.

  “I’ve been thinking about your writing,” Mum replied. “The women in our family have always had a knack for writing, going back to Elizabeth Chatswood herself. But it’s different for you, Betsy. I think you have a real talent for it.”

  I smiled, delighted by Mum’s praise.

  “I’ve been very moved by your determination to correspond with Cousin Kay,” continued Mum. “And so I’ve decided that we must outfit you with everything you need to continue on this path. What do you say, Betsy? Would you like to have your very own typewriter?”

  “A typewriter?” I cried. “Of my very own?”

  Mum nodded, pleased, as the clerk approached us. “We’d like to see a British Oliver, I think, and we’ll need extra ribbons for it, of course,” she said.

  “Certainly, madam,” he replied.

  The British Oliver typewriter was a gorgeous machine, glossy black all over with gold trim and smooth, cream-colored keys. The clerk showed me how to insert a crisp sheet of paper and how to change the ribbon. Then he said that I could give it a try!

  I rested my hands lightly on the keys, just the way he showed me, as I pondered what my very first typewritten words should be.

  My name is Elizabeth Northrop.

  Tomorrow is my twelfth birthday.

  The clackety-clack of the keys leaping up to strike the ribbon was louder than I expected. Just like magic, my words appeared on the blank page, as neat as a pin.

  “Mum, I absolutely adore it!” I cried. “Thank you so much!”

  “You’re very welcome, my darling,” she replied with an indulgent smile. “I can’t wait to read what you’ll write with it.”

  When the purchase was complete, Mum made arrangements for the parcels to be held for us at the train station. Then we set off for the Savoy. My heart was beating so hard that I could hear it pounding in my ears. In moments, I would see the Katherine necklace with my very own eyes! What would it feel like to hold it in my hands? I’d already decided that I wouldn’t try it on—not even once. No, the very next person to wear it would be my cousin Kay. It was only right.

  We arrived at the Savoy promptly at half-past twelve and waited for Mr. O’Brien in the lobby. Every time the lift doors opened, I jumped; but after twenty long minutes, we were still waiting.

  “Since Mr. O’Brien is a guest at the hotel, we’d better telephone his room to see how much longer he expects to be delayed,” Mum finally said. “I must say, I’m surprised that he didn’t send word to us if he was going to be late.”

  I followed Mum to the front desk, where one of the clerks dialed Mr. O’Brien’s room for her. After he answered the phone, the clerk passed it to Mum.

  “Hello, Mr. O’Brien. This is Lady Etheridge-Northrop,” she said. “My daughter, Betsy, and I are here to conduct the transaction we discussed and were wondering when you might be available to join us.”

  There was a pause while Mum listened. “Yes, we’re here,” she repeated, a quizzical expression on her face. “Right downstairs. Yes. I see. Very good.”

  Then she returned the phone to the clerk.

  “Mum, what did he say?” I asked. “Is he on his way?”

  “He seemed surprised to hear from me,” Mum said. “I can’t imagine that he forgot our meeting. Perhaps he’s so preoccupied with his business dealings that our appointment slipped his mind.”

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  A few moments later, a tall man walked out of the lift. I noticed right away that he was very dashing, with jet-black hair and a smart gray suit. The moment he saw us, he seemed to know who we were, and he crossed the lobby with long, confident strides.

  “You must be Lady Etheridge-Northrop,” he said to Mum in an American accent. “I’m Patrick O’Brien. And is this Lady Betsy?”

  “We’re very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Mum said.

  “Would you join me in the parlor?” he replied. “It’s right this way.”

  That’s when I noticed that Mr. O’Brien was empty-handed. Where is the Katherine necklace? I wondered. Is it in the hotel safe?

  Mum and I sat together on a love seat across from Mr. O’Brien, who crossed and uncrossed his legs as if he couldn’t get comfortable in his chair. Then he leaned forward, leaned back, and finally, clasping his hands, said, “I can’t think of a
way to tell you this, so I should probably just come out with it. I think there’s been a terrible misunderstanding.”

  No, I thought. Oh, no. My hand reached for Mum, who stayed remarkably calm—on the outside, at least—as she asked, “Where is the Katherine necklace, Mr. O’Brien?”

  Mr. O’Brien leaned forward again. “It’s been sold to another party, and I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

  Sold! I thought in horror. Mum squeezed my hand so hard that her knuckles turned white.

  “I should like to know how that happened,” Mum replied in a steely voice. “We had an agreement—”

  “I’d also like to know,” he said fervently. “Two days ago, I received your telegram confirming our meeting for today. But later that afternoon, I received a second telegram from you proposing that we meet the previous day—which was yesterday.”

  “I sent no such telegram.”

  “I can see that,” Mr. O’Brien said, removing a silk pocket square from his jacket and wiping his brow. “But the damage was done, I’m afraid. Yesterday, I met with a woman who claimed to be you, and I sold her the necklace. I had no idea that I wasn’t dealing with your ladyship.”

  For a long moment, no one spoke.

  “I could just kick myself!” Mr. O’Brien suddenly exclaimed. “Lady Etheridge-Northrop, I truly hope that you can accept my apology. It was my every wish to return the Katherine necklace to you personally. If I’d had any idea—”

  “Mr. O’Brien, there was no way for you to know that you were dealing with an impostor,” Mum said, rising abruptly. “I do appreciate your efforts to resolve this matter, though I’m very sorry that we’re unable to come to a more satisfactory conclusion.”

  “If there’s anything I can do . . . ,” Mr. O’Brien said as he, too, stood up. It was almost as if he knew how much the Katherine necklace meant to my family.

  “I do appreciate that,” Mum replied with sincerity. “Good day, Mr. O’Brien, and I wish you safe travels back to America.”

  “Good-bye,” I said softly as Mum and I turned to leave.

  I rubbed the back of my neck, which was all prickly with a feeling of something left undone. “Mr. O’Brien,” I said suddenly, letting go of Mum’s arm as I spun around to face him. “Wait.”