The Dressmaker's Secret (The Chronicles of Alice and Ivy Book 1)

by Kellyn Roth

  Alice nodded and stepped forward. “Is it a boy dog?”

  The boy stood with the puppy in his arms and flipped him over. “Right. I’m … I go by Kirk Manning.” He stopped and really looked at her, and Alice realized that his eyes were the greenest she’d ever seen and framed by dark lashes. Didn’t seem right that boys always seemed to get the prettiest eyes—at least, this Kirk fellow and Mr. Parker.

  Kirk’s ears turned red as he looked her up and down, and he abruptly turned back toward the stall he’d come from. “Didn’t realize you were from the mansion. Sorry. I thought you might be the new scullery maid before I got a good look at you.”

  Alice cocked her head and followed him. “That’s all right. I like scullery maids, I think.” She wasn’t sure what made a scullery maid different from a regular one, but they must be nice. Nettie had been a maid, after all, once upon a time.

  Kirk Manning gave her an odd look. “I’m a stable boy, you know, and it wouldn’t be exactly right for you to … be here.”

  Oh, it wasn’t, was it? “Who are you to tell me where I ought to be?” She folded her arms in front of her chest. “You’re just a stable boy, right?”

  A bit of a grin whisked around his lips as he knelt to place the puppy on the floor. The spaniel scurried to the back of the stall and lay there panting. “That’s true, I suppose. So stay. See if I care. Only, don’t tell ’em I said you could if you get trampled.” He really did smile before ducking around the horse he was brushing.

  “This is Acacia,” she heard him say from behind the mare.

  “I know.”

  Acacia, Miss Elton’s horse, was a fine example of horseflesh. She was a beautiful chestnut with gentle brown eyes and a white star on her forehead. Alice looked up into those liquid eyes with admiration and longing. Someday she would have a horse like this. She also instantly knew that Ivy would worship this horse. It was her ideal steed, and she would consider it perfect for any knight in shining armor or princess in silken gowns.

  “What will we call him?” Kirk asked

  “Hmm?”

  “The pup. He needs a name.” He ducked around the horse again and knelt in front of the dog. “Here, boy. What’s your name?”

  Alice shook her head. “He can’t answer you.”

  Kirk glared. “I know that!”

  “Then why did you—?”

  “How about Warrior. You know, because he wasn’t afraid of those hounds who tried to off him.”

  Off him? What was that? But regardless what Kirk meant, Alice didn’t care for it. “That’s not a good name at all.”

  Alice hadn’t known until that minute that people, including little boys, could bristle. “Do you have an idea?”

  She tapped her finger to her chin and knelt beside Kirk to regard the puppy. “How about Brownie? Because he’s brown.”

  He scoffed. “That’s just plain stupid.”

  Alice pouted. “I saw him first. Shouldn’t I get to name him?”

  “I rescued him, so I should.” Kirk scowled at her. “But I’ll be a gentleman, seeing as you’re pretty close to a lady. I guess we can call him Brownie …”

  “We don’t have to.” Alice didn’t want him to get away with being noble and leave her in the selfish dust. “Maybe there’s a name we can both like.”

  His eyes brightened. “Champion?”

  “Flopsy?”

  “Killer?”

  “Jackie?”

  “Arrow?”

  “Chocolate?”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake! Even most girls aren’t this sappy.”

  “I’m not sappy at all. He does look like chocolate!”

  After glaring at each other for a solid minute, Kirk broke the silence.

  “He was in the stall of a big, old stallion called Open Fire. He’s being studded out for a week or so. Why don’t we call him that, and you can call him Opie so your girlness will be happy.”

  Alice wanted to protest, but Opie was a sweet name, and she was done cutting off her nose to spite her face for the day. “All right. Opie it is. What will we do with him?”

  “Do with him? I’ll keep him. He won’t eat much, and he’ll keep me company,” said Kirk, grinning. “Oh, I don’t know your name.”

  She paused and glanced at her hands. Berck or Chattoway? But now she always seemed to be introduced as the latter, so she’d try that one. “Alice Christina Chattoway.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “That’s long.”

  She blinked. “You can just call me Alice.”

  “Good. I’ll remember that. Come on, I’m done with Acacia. Now for North Star. He’s Mr. Parker’s horse. The bay here.”

  Alice followed Kirk into the next stall over. “How old are you?”

  He glanced up at her. “Ten. Why?”

  She looked down. “I’m only eight.”

  Kirk grunted. “That’s not so little. My little sister’s only two.” The brush in his hand made circular motions on the stallion’s shoulder. “Her name is Lizzy.”

  Alice nodded and reached up to stroke North Star’s shoulder.

  After a moment, Kirk turned to look at her. “You still here?”

  “Do you want me to leave?” Alice hoped he didn’t. Unable to meet his eyes in case he was indeed tired of her company, she knelt down and stroked the ears of the pup who had curled up next to his savior’s foot.

  He shrugged. “If you get kicked by Star, I’ll never hear the end of it.” A bit of a smile trembled around his lips before he turned away.

  Alice let herself grin as she pulled Opie onto her lap. He did like her after all; she was sure of it. And if he didn’t, well, she’d have to convince him to.

  Alice’s eyes strayed listlessly over the soaking landscape that once had been the beautiful Pearlbelle Park gardens. The windowsill was cold under her chin, and she straightened and turned away from the drippy window.

  “Why does it have to rain?” She dragged her feet across the room and flopped down on her bed. “I want to go outside.”

  Nettie glanced up from her knitting. “Why don’t you read, Miss Grace?”

  “I don’t want to read.” Alice tossed an arm over her eyes and sighed heavily. “Why does it rain in the summer? I hate it.”

  Alice felt a gentle touch and lifted her arm to find Ivy leaning over her. “You could play with me.” She gestured to dolls and teacups on the floor. “Please?”

  But Alice refused to have her bad mood shaken. “Not now, Ivy.” And she placed her arm back over her eyes.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Nettie dropped her yarn and needles in the basket beside her chair and rose. “Come in.”

  Mr. Knight opened the door and stepped in. He nodded to Nettie before turning to Alice and Ivy.

  “My wife was wondering if you might visit her today. She’s terribly tired of sitting alone and would like you to meet our baby. Will you come?”

  Alice glanced at Nettie, who nodded. After a peek at Ivy, who looked as eager as she, she returned her gaze to Mr. Knight. “We’d like that, sir.”

  They followed him down the hall to the master chambers, where he paused and looked at them. “Now, girls, you know better than to be rambunctious, don’t you? Mrs. Knight is just getting better from an illness, and we don’t want to tire her.”

  Alice puffed out her chest. “I’ll be good.”

  “Me, too.” Ivy bounced on her toes.

  “I knew you would.” He opened the door and gestured for the girls to walk in before him.

  The room was lovely and bright despite the gloomy outdoors—multiple lamps flickered, and a fire burned in the grate. Mrs. Knight sat on a chair next to the fire with a blanket tucked around her legs.

  “Hazel, you remember Alice and Ivy, don’t you?”

  “Yes, we met at that party of their mother’s.” Mrs. Knight cleared her throat and pressed a handkerchief to her lips before returning it to her pocket.

  She was paler than Alice remembered, and her light-bro
wn hair was in neat braids. Why, she looks like a child.

  “I’m glad you could come see me! You’re Alice and you’re Ivy—did I get it right? Good! Come here; I’m not going to bite y’all!” She motioned to a sofa with her free hand. “I haven’t had too many visitors.” Her voice was lazy and mild, friendly and sweet.

  “Would you like to see my baby? This is Edmond Philip, my little Ned.” Mrs. Knight put her hand onto Alice’s shoulder and guided the girl over to the side of the bassinet. She drew back the blanket. “There, what do you think of him?”

  “He’s … he’s so small!” Alice blinked down at a wrinkled pink face and tiny hands tightened into fists. He opened and closed his mouth, making soft smacking sounds.

  “Yes, he is, but he’ll grow.” Mrs. Knight reached down and stroked his cheek. “I don’t want him to, of course, but I suppose he must.” She jerked her hand back, covered her mouth, and coughed. “You can touch him if you like, but be gentle.” She withdrew her handkerchief and wiped her mouth.

  Alice touched his soft cheek. “He’s so sweet. Ivy, do you see his little hands?”

  “Yes.” Ivy’s mouth was a perfect circle. “He looks like a doll.”

  “Doesn’t he?” Mrs. Knight once again put her handkerchief away and leaned toward her child. “Now, he has Mr. Knight’s nose, and probably my ears, and I think he’ll have my eyes. But, really, he looks more like Phil.”

  He looked like a baby to Alice, but she shrugged. “I suppose.”

  Mr. Knight stepped forward. “I see more of you in him, Hazel, but if you say so.”

  Alice blinked. Babies looked like their parents, apparently. She didn’t look much like her mother, so perhaps … She swallowed. Mr. Parker seemed the obvious choice to her, based on appearance. But that didn’t make sense, did it? Not as much as Mummy disliked him. He couldn’t be. Or was he?

  She had better do some investigating while she had a chance. She dropped her head back to squint up at him. “It’s your baby, Mr. Knight?”

  He stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Yes, indeed, Miss Alice. Ned is mine.”

  Mrs. Knight laughed, but it turned into a cough. “What a silly question,” she said after she’d recovered.

  “I don’t look like my mummy, so I thought—”

  “Not all children look like their parents.” Mr. Knight cleared his throat.

  “Ivy resembles her closely, I thought.” Mrs. Knight scooped Ned up and cradled him against her chest. “Alice, why don’t you sit down on the sofa, and you can hold him. He’s awake now but not fussy. He’ll start in a bit, I know, but until then, we can enjoy his sweetness.”

  But Alice wasn’t one for distractions. “Did you want him, Mr. Knight?”

  “Ned?” Mr. Knight lowered himself on a chair opposite his wife. “Of course I wanted him.”

  “Who wouldn’t want such a sweet thing?” Mrs. Knight smiled. “If you don’t want to hold him, would Ivy like to?”

  Ivy nodded, and in no time, she was situated on the sofa with the baby in her arms. Alice’s questions continued to swirl about her mind. Why does a father get to decide if he wants a baby or not? Why can they leave? Why can’t fathers be mandatory?

  Alice took a deep breath. She’d better start from the beginning. “Where did Ned come from?”

  The sound Mr. Knight made was somewhere between a snort and a gag, and Alice looked up with concern.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Perfectly well.” He ran his hand over his face. “I just think that’s a better conversation for another time.”

  Mrs. Knight motioned Alice to her side. “Don’t mind him, honey lamb. Men don’t understand these things.”

  “I—”

  She held up her hand. “Shh. What has your mama told you?”

  Alice inched toward Mrs. Knight. She felt like a miner who’d finally found a precious gem—a source of information both innocent and kind. “Not much. She says everyone has a mother and a father but they don’t always stay. Why is that?”

  Mrs. Knight sighed. “I don’t know, dear. Why anyone wouldn’t stay with a sweet thing like you is beyond me.”

  Alice didn’t know, either. “But if I knew where babies came from, maybe I could understand a bit better how papas just leave and why that’s a bad thing.”

  Mrs. Knight tapped her finger against her lips. “I can see the problem, but I think you ought to have this conversation with your mama.” She cleared her throat. “It’s a bad thing because only a shiftless, nasty man wouldn’t want his wife and children.”

  Alice scowled. That wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t make her father want her—especially since she’d never met him. “If that’s all, why can’t people see me? Why can’t I leave the house more often?”

  Mrs. Knight sighed. “I don’t know why, Alice. The world doesn’t choose the right people to punish sometimes.”

  Alice folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t, either.” Mrs. Knight wrapped her arm around Alice’s waist and gave her an awkward hug. “Don’t you agree, Phil?”

  Alice glanced across the room to find that Mr. Knight had left his seat behind and stood in front of the window. “Mm.”

  That wasn’t much of an answer, but she supposed he agreed.

  “Do you think I’ll get my father back?” Alice asked. Even if he was shiftless and nasty, she wanted him—or at least she thought so. It seemed like a father could make all the difference in the world.

  “I don’t know, sugar heart.” Mrs. Knight leaned back against the chair. “I don’t know. It could be that someday God will bring him back into your life, but even if He doesn’t, I’m sure you’ll learn more about him in the future.”

  In the future? Alice wanted to learn about him now. He was her father, after all, and she had a right. Her life would be better if she knew about him, too. Little girls without fathers didn’t seem to go far.

  “But will people always hate me?”

  “I won’t.” Mrs. Knight gave Alice another hug. “And neither will Mr. Knight or your mother … It’ll be all right. I promise.”

  Alice nodded, but she wasn’t willing to just be all right and not ask questions. “Could Mr. Parker be my papa, though?” That seemed the most obvious answer.

  Mrs. Knight was launched into another coughing fit.

  Mr. Knight crossed the room to hold her hand. “Are you well? Would you like a glass of water?”

  Mrs. Knight jerked her head up and down. “Yes, please.” Her voice sounded like a carriage driving over gravel.

  Mr. Knight stepped away to get a glass of water, and Alice pressed again. “Mr. Parker. Could he be?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so! I hope not.” Mrs. Knight accepted the glass Mr. Knight returned with. “Thank you, darling. What do you know of Mr. Parker’s character?”

  Mr. Knight swallowed. “We’re cousins, and I would rather not talk badly of the man.”

  “But …?”

  He ran a hand over his eyes. “I don’t necessarily trust him.”

  “But do you think …?” Mrs. Knight fixed her eyes on his face. “And, if so, can he be made to take responsibility.”

  “I don’t think—not definitively.” Then he smiled. “But, either way, it’s not worth thinking of. Here, Ned’s starting to fuss.”

  Indeed, the baby was making soft whimpering noises, and Ivy looked beyond helpless. Alice rushed to her side, while Mr. Knight lifted the child from her arms.

  “I’d best feed him,” Mrs. Knight said. “Girls, would you come back to see me soon? It must be almost time for your tea, and I need to take care of Ned, but I want to talk again soon.”

  Alice bit her lip and nodded. She felt like she was being rushed away after too many questions, but she did like Mrs. Knight. “All right. We’ll visit again soon.”

  Chapter Eleven

  July 1870

  Alice put her head down and ran. Her legs, throat, and lungs burned, but
she pushed harder—yet, she just wasn’t fast enough. Kirk Manning could run circles around her, and he almost did, dancing just ahead.

  She stumbled to a stop at the crest of the hill and placed her hands on her knees. “It’s … not … fair.” She shoved her hair back with both hands and glared at him. “Your … legs are … longer.”

  “And you’re slow.” Kirk grinned and flopped down on the lime-green grass. His breaths were regulated.

  Alice hated him.

  She fell down at his side. When the ache in her chest eased, she propped herself up on her elbow. “Where are we?”

  “South of the mansion. Look—you can see Pearlbelle if you stand up. We only left the gate an eighth of a mile ago, though I bet it seems longer to you.” He jumped to his feet and reached down to help her up. “Come on.”

  Alice let him haul her to her feet, still feeling the after effects of their run in her calves. “Where are we going?”

  “To my house. It’s just over the way, on the road to the village.” He shrugged. “I keep telling Mum I’m going to take you over to meet her.”

  “Oh, all right.” Alice glanced up at the gray sky and shivered. The air was heavy and oppressive. “But it might rain.”

  Kirk squinted upwards for a moment. “No, it won’t. It’ll hold.”

  “If you say so.” I’m probably getting a soaking for trusting him, but clothes dry.

  He led her down the hill, which was bare save a scattering of rocks, and along the old cobbled road the carriage traveled on when it came from Creling and the train station. It was a bit worn but still a nice road.

  “Does Mr. Knight make sure it stays nice?” she asked.

  He gave her a funny look. “Of course. It’s his land.”

  “Oh.” Alice glanced about. “How much of this is his land?”

  Kirk gestured to the south. “To Creling—almost to the outskirts.” Then to the north. “The fence marks that boundary, though it’s a ways back. Beyond it belongs to another estate, though their big house is quite a distance northeast.”