by Adele Whitby
“It is too long,” she cried. “The entire hem needs to be redone! How could such a thing have happened? My measurements were precise.”
Oh no. Katherine and I had forgotten that I am a half inch taller than she. I had to get in there somehow and fix this, or Essie—and Mr. Fellows—might discover that Katherine was pretending to be me while I was disobeying Papa’s orders.
I slipped into Katherine’s room and then into the dressing closet. Katherine was waiting for my knock. I only hoped she could hear it above Madame Dubois’s exclamations.
“Excuse me, Madame. I must see if Essie has returned from the village,” I heard Katherine say.
“Now, Lady Elizabeth?” Madame cried. “We have much work to do.”
“I’ll be just a moment,” she said.
I heard the door to my bedchamber close, and seconds later Katherine joined me in her room. “Hurry,” she whispered, “or Madame will discover us. How could we forget about the difference in our heights? She’s beside herself.”
She frantically undid the buttons running up the back of my day dress. I stepped out of it quickly and then tried to do the same with her ball gown. “I don’t know how Essie does this so easily,” I muttered. There were at least fifty pearl buttons running up the back of the dress.
We heard my bedroom door open and Madame talking to someone in the hall. One of the maids, I guessed. “Do find Lady Elizabeth for me at once and beg her to return. We must avert this disaster.”
I heard the maid mumble her reply and then the sound of footsteps as she rushed off to find me.
Katherine was finally able to step out of the ball gown and I stepped into it. Her fingers, as clumsy as mine with the tiny buttons, raced to fasten everything as it had been. Finally, overheated and out of breath, I ran through the dressing closet and into my own room. In a moment I was standing on the low stool in front of Madame. She had scissors in hand, ready to undo my hem.
“Milady, we don’t have time—” She stopped short and took a slow walk around the stool, stopping to fasten a couple of buttons that Katherine had missed. Then she pulled on my skirt. It reached just to the bottom of my slippers, as it should. “What has happened?” she asked, eyeing me suspiciously. “It is perfect.”
“It was the shoes, Madame. I had on the wrong shoes,” I answered with a sweet smile. “They were in Lady Katherine’s bedchamber. It was a foolish mistake, and I am sorry to have caused you distress.”
Madame lifted my skirt with the edge of her scissors and looked at my shoes, dusty from the basement. She was about to say something about the state of them when she let out the loudest screech I had ever heard. Before I knew what was happening, the dressmaker had leaped to the top of the stool with me and clutched my shoulders in an iron grip.
Lady Katherine, her day dress half unfastened, ran into my room from her own, preceded by a gray streak. She, too, screamed and leaped onto the stool with Madame and me.
“What is it?” she screamed. “What is wrong?”
Just then, I spotted a family of frightened mice run under my bed, followed by another ear-piercing scream from Madame Dubois. I believe she would have climbed onto my shoulders if she could, to put a greater distance between the mice and herself.
Mr. Fellows, Papa, Papa’s valet, Essie, a footman, Mrs. Cosgrove, and two housemaids all burst into my room.
Madame was taking deep, gulping breaths, trying to calm herself.
“What is it?” Papa yelled. “What has happened?”
Madame Dubois, her face white, gingerly stepped down from the stool, standing on her tiptoes. “Please forgive me for taking such a liberty, milady,” she said to me. Then she turned to Papa. “A rat, sir. Many rats, in fact. An entire army of rats.”
Mrs. Cosgrove gasped. Mr. Fellows stared at the poor housekeeper with such a look of righteous indignation you might think she had committed murder.
It was taking every bit of her courage for the dressmaker not to run from the room. In fact, if a group of servants weren’t blocking the door, I think she would have.
I could feel my lips twitching, and I pressed them together so as not to laugh. “Not rats, Papa. Mice. And just a few. They ran under the bed.”
Mrs. Cosgrove met Mr. Fellows’s indignation with a heaping platter of her own. “Mice! Upstairs at Chatswood Manor? Well, I never!” She grabbed my fireplace poker and marched over to my bed. Lifting the bedclothes, she poked under the bed, and two mice scampered out, heading back to the dressing closet.
Madame Dubois screamed again and jumped up onto a chair. Papa helped her to sit down, sending one of the maids for a glass of wine to steady her. If it weren’t too undignified, I think the dressmaker would have raised her feet up into the air.
Mrs. Cosgrove was giving Essie and one of the housemaids a stern eye. “We will be discussing this later, and no mistake,” she announced. “There has been a serious breach in cleaning if mice are allowed to run wild in the family rooms.”
It was as if a mouse had heard her, because at that moment one of them made a run for it, rushing toward my bedroom door.
Madame Dubois knocked over her chair trying to get away, and ended up on the floor, exactly where one did not want to be when mice were running about. Her feet were in the air and her hoopskirt sprang up, revealing her petticoats. Mr. Fellows’s face turned a shade of bright red I had never seen before, while Mrs. Cosgrove and Papa helped the woman to her feet.
I could feel Katherine’s shoulders begin to shake beside me. I had been trying my hardest not to laugh, but now I looked at my sister and I couldn’t help but giggle. That set her off too, and soon we were laughing so hard that our stomachs hurt and tears ran down our faces.
A few moments later, when Madame Dubois was once again upright, Mr. Fellows marched into the dressing closet.
“I have discovered the source of the problem, my lord,” he said.
Mr. Fellows walked out of the dressing closet carrying a small pile of tea sandwiches.
I could see now, in the bright light of day, that they were covered in small, mouse-sized bites.
“What is the meaning of this?” Papa asked us.
Katherine and I quickly turned serious.
I knew better than to bring up Sean O’Brien’s name, but I had to tell Papa the truth about the food. “We’re saving food for the people of Ireland,” I said.
“We’re going to send it to a hungry family there,” Katherine added.
“Tea sandwiches?” Mrs. Cosgrove asked weakly. “To Ireland?”
“And just how were you planning to deliver this food to a hungry family?” Papa asked.
“By post,” I admitted.
Papa shook his head. “I commend you on your desire to help those less fortunate,” he told us. “But sending tea sandwiches by post will not solve the problem. They will be inedible long before they reach Ireland.”
I could see now the folly of our plan. My cheeks burned as everyone had a good chuckle at Katherine’s and my expense, even Madame Dubois.
“Can’t we do something, Papa?” I asked.
He shook his head again, even more firmly this time. “I told you the government has the matter well in hand.”
The staff began to disperse. Mr. Fellows sent two footmen in search of mousetraps while the housekeeper began to supervise a cleanup.
“Not to worry, Lord Chatswood. We’ll have this problem taken care of in no time,” Mrs. Cosgrove assured him.
Papa turned to my sister and me. “You’ve created a lot of extra work for the staff—on top of everything they have to do for your birthday ball. I expect you to make the proper apologies.”
“We’re sorry, Mrs. Cosgrove,” I said.
“Very sorry, Mr. Fellows,” Katherine added.
Mrs. Cosgrove sighed. “You’ve got good hearts, and you meant no harm.”
“Our apologies for frightening you, Madame,” I said.
The dressmaker waved her hand weakly. Her eyes flitted about, still lookin
g for mice. “The fittings are done. I will leave the dresses with you. Perhaps your maid can take over.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Essie said to Madame. “I’ll handle things from here.”
Mr. Fellows gave the poor woman his arm, and with mincing steps, she tiptoed out of the room.
“Come, Lady Elizabeth,” Essie said. “We’ll get you back into your day dress.” She looked around for it, expecting to find it waiting for me on my bed. Instead, it was in Katherine’s room.
“I’ll get it,” I said, jumping off the stool.
Essie might have followed me and discovered the dress in a heap on the floor—something Madame would never do—but she was distracted by Lady Katherine. Only a few of her buttons were fastened, and those that were, were cockeyed.
“Are you ladies up to something?” Essie asked. “Something besides hiding food? There are some strange goings-on here.”
“No, Essie,” I said innocently, holding my dress out to her. “We’re just excited about the party.”
As soon as Katherine and I were alone, I pulled her outside for a walk on the grounds so that I could tell her about Clarice without being overheard.
“Do you think the box will solve the puzzle of what happened to Maggie?” Katherine asked.
“I think it must. Clarice said there were letters on top,” I answered. “We just have to go back to the cellar to find the box.”
But getting back to the cellar proved to be more difficult than I could have imagined. Our every moment was spoken for with preparations for the ball, not to mention the fact that the staff was constantly bustling about.
Twice Katherine and I tried to sneak down to the cellar—once through the servants’ area and once through the secret passage in the library—but both times we were thwarted by Essie. Our lady’s maid was growing more suspicious by the moment, but every time she tried to discover the source of our strange behavior, we claimed birthday excitement.
I did hate lying to her, but I hated the idea of disappointing Sean O’Brien even more.
Mr. O’Brien was due to return the day after our birthday. Finally, the night before our ball, we realized that we’d have to sneak down to the cellar as soon as the house settled for the night. The ghostly cellar was the last place I wanted to be at night, but I felt I had no choice.
That night, Katherine and I fought to stay awake. We heard Papa come upstairs a couple of hours after Essie had wished us good night. Shortly thereafter, we heard his valet make his way downstairs. We tiptoed into the hall and heard the quiet rumble of Mr. Fellows instructing the footmen to ensure that all the lamps were extinguished.
A few moments later, it was time to try our luck. “Let’s go,” I whispered.
I was about to step onto the stairs when Katherine’s hand on my arm held me back. She was just in time. Mr. Fellows began to make his way up the staircase, candle in hand!
Quickly, we slipped back into my bedchamber. I looked at Katherine, her wide, frightened eyes a mirror of my own as Mr. Fellows stopped in front of my door. He did not enter though, and a moment later we heard his footsteps make their way down the hall.
“He’s checking to make sure everything is settled for the night,” Katherine whispered in my ear, her lips hardly moving.
We waited as the butler patrolled the hall, ensuring our safety and comfort. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we heard his tread on the stairs again just as the clock was chiming midnight.
More carefully this time, I waited for the clock to chime the quarter hour, at which point I decided it was safe to venture out. I had never seen the house so dark. A lone lamp burned in the hall and another at the bottom of the stairs in the great hall. Katherine and I held hands and tiptoed, too frightened to even utter a word, and slipped into the library.
Once inside, I wondered how to find the secret door in the dark, but I moved from bookshelf to bookshelf, tugging on each, until I found the correct one. Finally, at the top of the stairs, I deemed it safe to light the candle I had left behind two days ago with the matches on the shelf. There was another candle on the ledge, which I lit for Katherine.
I held my candle aloft, and together Katherine and I looked down the staircase. The steepness of it made me dizzy for a moment. My sister shivered, and not from the cold, although the air held a damp chill. It was a long way down, and no one knew where we were. If we were hurt or got lost, it could be days before we were found.
“One step at a time,” I whispered to Katherine.
We made our slow way down. As we rounded one of the curves, a draft whooshed past us like a ghost, blowing out my candle. Every part of me wanted to turn around and run back upstairs, but I forced myself to stay put.
Thank goodness Katherine had been cupping her flame at that very moment. With shaking hands, she relit my candle and on we went. Finally, we reached the rough wooden door that would lead us into the cellar.
The cellar itself was even spookier in the night than it was in the daytime. I quickly led Katherine to the storage room and described the plain wooden box Clarice had told me about. Katherine checked the shelves on one side of the room, while I checked the other.
I found it, covered in dust and spiderwebs. “It’s here!” I yelled, and then quickly clapped my hand over my mouth. My voice seemed to echo about the room and perhaps the entire cellar. We stood frozen on the spot, listening for a cry of discovery, but none came. The servants were either all asleep or far enough away not to hear. I only hoped that the old ghosts decided we were beneath their notice.
Katherine’s face was pale and strained as she joined me. I gave the box a shake. There was definitely paper inside. Maggie O’Brien’s wages and her letters.
Quickly, quietly, I led Katherine back to the secret staircase. The climb seemed shorter now that we had made our discovery, and although our candles flickered, the ancient ghosts were kind enough not to blow them out. Perhaps they, too, wanted Sean O’Brien to find his Maggie.
Leaving our candles where we had found them, we slipped back into the library. In moments we were racing up the grand staircase and slipping back into my room. The single candles Essie had left for us still flickered on our nightstands.
“Shall we open it?” Katherine asked, breathless.
“It’s locked,” I told her. “Besides, Mr. O’Brien should be the one to discover its secrets.”
She nodded. “The day after tomorrow,” she whispered. “I can hardly wait.”
“But first—our birthday,” I told her. “And our birthday ball!”
The next morning, I was awakened when Essie drew open my curtains, letting the sun shine in.
“Happy birthday to you, milady,” she sang, walking through the dressing closet to Katherine’s room. “Happy birthday, Lady Katherine,” she said.
I groaned and rolled over, burrowing under my comforter to block the light. It felt as if I had just fallen asleep. “What’s the time?” I asked.
“It’s nearly half past ten, Lady Elizabeth,” Essie said. “His Lordship has been waiting for you to join him at breakfast for ever so long. Cook has something special prepared.”
Essie came back into my room and pulled the covers from over my head. “Come, ladies. It’s not like you to sleep this late. What were you two up to last night?”
I sat up then. Katherine came into my room behind Essie, her eyes wide.
“We were up late talking about our birthday,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
I could tell she didn’t believe me, especially when she turned to my twin with the same question.
Katherine shrugged and wrinkled her nose. “I suppose we were too filled with excitement to fall asleep and then too tired to wake up again,” she said.
Essie shook her head. “I hope you’re not too tired to enjoy your party,” she said. “Now, hurry. We mustn’t keep His Lordship waiting any longer that we already have.”
Papa waited for us in the dining room, and the entire household staff came in to wish us a happy birthday.
Then Cook proudly had the footmen bring in platters of all of our favorite breakfast foods—coddled eggs, sausages, and hot toast with sweet butter and marmalade. There was a pyramid of fruit on the table and two mini birthday cakes, one each for Katherine and me.
“A preview of tonight’s cakes,” Mrs. Fields said. “I thought you might enjoy a small taste after your breakfast.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Fields. They look delicious.”
“You’ve outdone yourself,” Katherine added, clapping her hands.
The staff filed out, and Papa teased us about sleeping the day away while we ate our feast.
When we finished, Papa turned to Mr. Fellows. “I think we’re ready for the tray, Fellows.”
Katherine and I exchanged a glance. It was time for birthday presents!
Mr. Fellows brought in a silver tray with velvet boxes on top, one tied with a red ribbon and one with blue. There were also two letters written on Mama’s creamy white stationery. My heart gave a little flip when I recognized my name written in her hand on one of them.
Mr. Fellows handed the tray to Papa and then left the room, closing the door behind him.
“I want to take this occasion to tell both of you just how proud I am of the young ladies you’ve become,” Papa said. “Your mama—”
Papa’s voice caught, and he had to clear his throat.
My own eyes filled, and when I dared a glance at my twin, I saw that Katherine too was blinking away tears.
“Your mama was also very proud of you,” he said. “We talked about that just a few weeks before she left us. It was her dearest wish that you would always love and support each other. And I’ve seen in these difficult weeks that her wish has come true.”
Katherine and I smiled at each other through our tears. Without my sister’s support, I would not have survived losing Mama. And I knew Katherine felt the same about me.
“Your mother always said you were your best selves when you remembered your love for each other, and she chose a special gift for each of you to remind you always of your bond.”
