by Adele Whitby
My aunt glanced at my necklace and at the red accents on my gown.
“Elizabeth and I have confused a good many people, but I never imagined you would be one of them,” I teased.
Aunt Edwina laughed and she looked at Katherine again, shaking her head. “I see it now. I’m am sorry, Elizabeth,” she said to my sister. “Dance on, Maxwell.”
After many dances, Maxwell accompanied Katherine and me into the dining room. The tables were covered with delicious-looking food. The flowers were in full bloom, and festive confetti decorated the tables. The three of us were having a good laugh about the trick we had played on Maxwell’s mother when Cousin Cecily came up behind us. I thought perhaps she had overheard our ruse, but she was more focused on our necklaces.
“Your color suits you well,” she said to me. “It’s daring and strong, while Lady Katherine’s blue is more stately and serene.”
Katherine and Maxwell barely heard her, so taken were they with talk of the gardens at Chatswood and the new breed of roses the head gardener was cultivating in the greenhouse.
I had danced with my cousin and future husband a few times over the course of the evening, in between waltzes and reels with old uncles, Papa’s friends, and some of our neighbors. But Maxwell and I simply didn’t have the connection that he and Katherine did. Our conversation was stiff.
It must be because he’ll be my husband one day, I told myself. It makes us both shy.
But in my heart, I was a little sad that I didn’t enjoy the company of my future husband nearly as much as my sister did.
The birthday ball was a great triumph. Both Katherine and I were the stars of the evening. Aside from those few moments in the dining room, we barely had a moment to chat. And we both had to do our best to stay out of Aunt Edwina’s way lest she discover our trick.
We almost gave ourselves away at the presentation of the cakes, but I made sure that my sister and I stood side by side and held hands while we blew out our candles. There was such a crush of people wishing us happy returns of the day that my aunt couldn’t get near to see whose name was on each cake.
As much as I hated to see it end, the party did draw to a close. The Tynnes were the last guests to leave, and I couldn’t help but notice that Cousin Maxwell’s eyes lingered on my sister for an extra moment. I also noticed that Katherine enjoyed the attention.
Finally, we kissed Papa good night and headed upstairs, where Essie waited to help us into our nightgowns. We told her all about the party, about the dancing especially, and about how delicious the cakes were.
“It was the most wonderful night of my life,” Katherine said breathlessly.
Once again, I noticed that Katherine’s cheeks were pink, and I suspected Cousin Maxwell had something to do with the wonder of the evening.
“How about you, Lady Elizabeth?” Essie asked.
“Oh yes, it was splendid,” I told her, flopping onto my bed. “Absolutely splendid.”
“I imagine you’ll be ready for a quiet few days after all the excitement,” she said.
“But tomorrow will be a big day, too,” I said, remembering that Sean O’Brien would be coming back to Chatswood Manor.
“Big how?” Essie asked.
In my tired excitement, I had completely forgotten that Mr. O’Brien’s visit was a secret. Katherine stood behind Essie, shaking her head, her eyes warning me to speak no more.
“Only that we have to thank Mrs. Fields and all the staff for giving us such a perfect birthday,” I stammered.
Essie seemed alert to the fact that we had a secret, but it was late and we were tired. She didn’t press to discover what we were hiding.
After Essie left my bedchamber, Katherine climbed into bed with me, and we had a good laugh about fooling Aunt Edwina.
“We never would have gotten away with such a trick if Mama were alive,” I said.
Katherine nodded. “She was the only person in the world who could tell us apart in an instant.”
“I missed her tonight,” I whispered. “Let’s make a pact to honor Mama’s words, to always love and support each other,” I said.
“And to remember how much we love her—and Papa,” Katherine agreed.
Our necklaces were on my nightstand. I took my half of the heart in my hand. “I am Elizabeth, and I love my sister, Katherine,” I said.
Katherine raised hers. “I am Katherine, and I love my sister, Elizabeth.”
Katherine and I slid the two halves of the heart together to form a single, perfect heart. “Forever,” we said at the same time.
Click. Click, whirrrrrrr.
We heard the gears spinning and the now familiar sound of the hinge opening to reveal the hidden panel.
“We should hide a secret message inside,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Katherine said. “What should it say? I’m too tired to think.”
“Let’s decide tomorrow,” I said. Then my tired brain did have one thought. “Confetti,” I murmured, thinking about the confetti that decorated the table for the party. “We’ll write it down and turn it into confetti. Only we’ll know what the message says.”
The next morning, Katherine and I slept in again, waking only when Essie came and opened the shutters to let the sunshine in. She surprised us with breakfast in bed, and Katherine joined me to eat our feast.
Essie puttered about the room cleaning up while we told her all about the ball, repeating details from last night and adding new ones as we remembered them.
“Did the staff get to have any fun at all?” I asked.
“Oh, we had a grand time,” Essie said. “We had a feast of our own, and birthday cake, too. And everyone offered their best wishes for your happy day.”
Essie opened my armoire so that I could choose a dress for the day and spotted Maggie’s box. “What’s this old thing?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I said, jumping out of bed to take it. “Just an old box of Mama’s.”
“I’ve never seen it before,” Essie said.
“I just found it—in the library.”
“That dusty thing was in the library?” Essie said. “I’ll have to let Mrs. Cosgrove know that the housemaids have been neglecting their work.”
“No, Essie,” Katherine pleaded. “It was pushed way to the back of a shelf that has the most boring books in the world on it. They wouldn’t have known.”
Essie was quiet while she helped us dress and then plaited our hair. “And what will you ladies do with yourselves now that the birthday excitement is over?”
“I want to finish my painting of the gardens,” I said. I eyed Katherine. Sean O’Brien was coming after luncheon, when the servants would be busy with their own meal. “And a long walk after lunch, I think.”
Katherine nodded. “A very long walk,” she said.
After luncheon, with all the servants safely at their own meal and Papa immersed in the newspaper in the library, Katherine and I ran upstairs for Maggie O’Brien’s box. We set out to meet her husband just as Mr. Fellows stepped onto the servants’ stair.
Mr. O’Brien lingered near a stand of trees on the long drive to the manor’s front door. His expression, even from a distance, was one of hope and resignation all at the same time. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to wait years and years for news of a loved one. I could hardly wait to share what we had learned. Unladylike or not, I began to run, and Mr. O’Brien ran toward me.
I didn’t give him a chance to bow or to waste time on a greeting. “Your Maggie did work here,” I said quickly. “One of our maids remembered her quite well. And then one day she simply disappeared. We haven’t discovered the cause, but we have found this!”
I reached out to hand him the box, only to have my arm stopped by an out-of-breath Mr. Fellows. He was glaring at poor Mr. O’Brien.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “If I discover that you are taking advantage of Lady Elizabeth and Lady Katherine in any way—
“You there,” Mr. Fellows
called to one of the gardeners, walking from the direction of the village. “Go and tell Essie Bridges to come here at once.” Then he turned to my sister and me. “I have no doubt that she’s put you up to this. I’m sure you have done nothing wrong.”
“I can assure you, Mr. Fellows, that no one put us up to anything,” I said, trying to match his dignified tone. “We only wanted to help a good, kind man find his wife.”
Mr. O’Brien, Katherine, and I were all trying to explain, our words spilling over one another’s in a jumbled mess. Mr. O’Brien could barely take his eyes off the box.
Essie ran up a moment later. Her shock upon seeing Mr. O’Brien led to disappointment when she saw the box and then looked at Katherine and me. She was about to say something to us when Mr. Fellows held his hand up, cutting her off.
“Pack your things,” Mr. Fellows said. “You are to leave here before the day is over. You are dismissed from service. Without a reference.”
Essie gasped. “Surely, Mr. Fellows, you can’t dismiss me without a reference! I’ll never find another position.”
“No, Mr. Fellows,” I cried. “You can’t blame Essie.”
“She didn’t know,” Katherine added desperately. “She didn’t know.”
Sean O’Brien, too, tried to plead Essie’s case, but Mr. Fellows was unmoved, his face a mask of anger and indignation.
This was the scene that Papa came upon, alerted by the same gardener who had run for Essie. Papa silenced Katherine and me when we tried to explain what had happened. Mr. O’Brien was too cowed by Papa’s presence to speak, and poor Essie was too distressed.
My stomach churned over all the upset I had caused while Mr. Fellows told his version of the story. I thought surely that Papa would be sensible and hear what I had to say, but he shushed me again. He was even angrier than our butler.
“To think that such a man has taken advantage of the generosity and kindness of two young ladies,” he said, shaking his head. Then he turned to Essie. “And you helped.”
Katherine began to weep while Essie tried to tell Papa that we had kept our deeds a secret from her.
Papa would not hear it. “Be grateful that your only punishment is losing your position,” he said to Essie. “Fellows, send for the constable. I’ll have this man arrested.”
“No, Papa!” I said. “They have done nothing wrong—neither of them.”
“My dear child, you must trust me in this matter. I know best.”
Papa’s dismissal made me angry. “No, Papa,” I said. “You do not know best. Not in this matter.”
I had never spoken to Papa like that before, and his shock rendered him speechless for a moment. I took advantage of his silence to say more—in a calmer tone this time. “Just yesterday you told Katherine and me that we are young women now, almost adults. Why can you not trust us to speak about this, to tell you what has truly occurred?”
“I have heard all I need to hear,” Papa answered sternly.
I shook my head. “You have heard only what Mr. Fellows believes. That is not the whole truth.”
Mr. Fellows huffed, but remained silent.
Papa waved his arm, as if to tell me to go ahead.
“I believed Mr. O’Brien,” I said. “Everything about his story rang true. There were too many correct details for it to be the trick of a charlatan. We owed it to him to try to find out what happened to his wife.”
“Essie didn’t know,” Katherine added, wiping her eyes. “When she was forbidden to pursue the matter, she told us we had to drop it, but we decided to go ahead without her—in secret.”
“There is proof in your own staff ledger that Maggie O’Brien worked here and disappeared just when Mr. O’Brien stopped receiving letters,” I said. “And the maid, Clarice, told us more.”
Papa seemed to be actually considering what I had to say.
Katherine, emboldened by the change in his attitude, spoke up as well. “Mr. O’Brien is a good man, Papa. I know it.”
I seized the moment, taking the box from Mr. Fellows and thrusting it into Mr. O’Brien’s hands. “This is Maggie O’Brien’s box, and it belongs to her husband.”
Essie, somewhat recovered, stepped forward. The sun caught on the Celtic knot that Katherine and I had given to her yesterday. “That’s your mother’s box, Lady Elizabeth. You told me so this morning.”
“No, Essie. It’s Maggie O’Brien’s. I lied to you,” I admitted. “We found it in the cellar, just where Clarice said it would be.”
“I’m sorry it’s locked, Mr. O’Brien,” Katherine added. “We found no key.”
Papa and Mr. Fellows finally saw that Katherine and I were correct about Mr. O’Brien. They tried to apologize, but the poor man was hardly listening. He cradled the box in his arms like a baby, but his eyes never left Essie and her necklace.
“There’s the key,” he said, indicating the Celtic knot.
“This?” Essie asked, touching the knot. “This is a charm! Lady Elizabeth and Lady Katherine gave this to me just yesterday.”
“We found it in Mama’s trinket box,” Katherine explained. “We thought it would make a nice necklace.”
Essie looked more closely at the small knot that hung from the ribbon. “Yes, I can see now that this is actually a key!” she said excitedly.
We had caught the attention of a couple of the gardeners and a curious groomsman.
“Come, everyone,” Papa said, looking around. “Let’s move into the library.”
Once there, we were quiet as Essie took off her necklace and handed it to Mr. O’Brien.
I held my breath, watching him place the box on a table. He fitted the arrow dangling from the heart into the lock, and the box opened with a loud creak.
Inside were three letters. I could see Clarice’s name in a clear hand on top of the first. Mr. O’Brien opened it and quickly scanned its contents, making quiet exclamations as he read. Finally, after what seemed like ages and ages, he shared its contents.
“It’s dated the twenty-ninth of November, 1827. My Maggie discovered that she was about to have a child. She left word with this Clarice that she was going to the midwife in the village—a Mrs. Thornton. She wanted Clarice to send this letter to me if she did not return.” Mr. O’Brien showed us the other letter, addressed to Sean O’Brien in India in the same careful hand.
“She wanted her wages to go to the earl to care for the child until I could return.”
Mr. O’Brien was overcome for a moment, and Papa led him to a chair. We all gathered around him. He opened his own letter and began to read. The letter seemed to fill him with joy and sadness, but he did not share its contents.
I was sensible to the man’s distress, but I was also curious. “Who is the third letter to?” I asked finally.
“It’s for her unborn babe,” he said. He opened that letter too. “Essie was her favorite name,” he said after a moment. “She wanted her babe to be named Essie if she was a girl.”
I turned to our own Essie, whose face was pale. Surely she didn’t still believe that she would be forced to leave Chatswood Manor. I led her to a seat.
“I don’t understand. Why were these letters never delivered?” Papa asked.
“Maggie believed Clarice could read, because she tried to teach her,” I answered as it dawned on me. “But Clarice only pretended to learn. She hid the box away to protect Maggie.”
“I wonder what happened to her baby,” Katherine whispered. “Her Essie.”
Mr. O’Brien’s eyes were locked on our Essie. I turned to her and saw that tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“Essie, what’s wrong? What is it?”
“I was delivered by the midwife Mrs. Thornton on the evening of the twenty-ninth of November, 1827—the day these letters were written,” she said. “The only things I know about my mother from the people who raised me is that she was Irish and that she wished for me to be named Essie.” She raised her eyes tentatively to Sean O’Brien’s.
“You’re the spi
ttin’ image of your ma,” Sean O’Brien said. “Of my Maggie. I thought so the first second I saw you, but I didn’t dare hope.”
Essie was speechless.
“You’re Maggie O’Brien’s daughter!” I said. “Oh, how wonderful!” I had been weeping a lot in these past few months, but today’s tears were tears of joy. Essie had found her family. Her deepest wish was fulfilled.
“I hope you’ll let me be your pa,” Mr. O’Brien said. “And get to know you like a father should.”
Even Papa had to wipe away a tear as the truth of Essie’s parentage was revealed. Mr. Fellows kept looking away and clearing his throat.
Katherine gave Essie a big hug. “You have the family you longed for, Essie. I’m so happy for you.”
I joined in the hug too. “I’m happy too. Even if it means you have to leave us to go to Ireland.”
Katherine and I both began sobbing harder now, the joy mixed with sadness over the idea of losing our beloved Essie.
“I couldn’t love you girls more if you were my very own,” Essie said, sobbing too. “But I long to get to know my father. Oh, I don’t know what to do!”
“Fellows,” Papa finally said, “surely we can find a position for Mr. O’Brien at Chatswood Manor. Families must be kept together. There’s nothing more important.”
Mr. Fellows nodded, blinking rapidly. “If Mr. O’Brien is willing, of course.”
I held my breath until he answered. It was all I could do not to plead with the man.
“I’d be proud to,” Mr. O’Brien answered.
Papa patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll be proud to have you.”
Mr. Fellows slipped out of the room, I imagine to get away from our excess of emotion. Katherine and I let go of Essie only to wrap our arms around Papa. “Thank you, Papa. Thank you,” we said.
We watched Essie take a few shy steps toward her father and, with trembling fingers, take the letter that her mother had written to her.
“Take the rest of the day, please, Essie,” I said, glancing at Papa, who nodded his consent. “Read your letter. Sit and talk in the garden.”
