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

by Kellyn Roth

  “I’m well.” Mummy shifted the box she held from hand to hand. “Are you … well?”

  “Oh, you sound like Phil.” Mrs. Knight slumped back in the carriage, then pushed herself forward again. “I’m not, exactly. This cough is horrible. But I’m just havin’ a servant do some shoppin’ for me, and I wanted the air.”

  “I see.” Mummy glanced down at Alice. “Be sure to rest when you get home, Mrs. Knight. If you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. Knight might be right if he’s concerned for your health. That cough still hasn’t left you?”

  Mrs. Knight huffed and didn’t reply to Mummy. Instead, she looked down at Alice. “I would pull you right up in this carriage and hug you, sweetling, but I’m afraid this li’l cold might be contagious, so I won’t. How have you been?”

  “I’ve been wonderful. How—I mean, I hope you get better soon, Mrs. Knight!” Alice reached up and touched her hand.

  “Thank you, Alice. I hope I’ll be better soon, too. Ned’s runnin’ around like a li’l puppy, all trouble and putting everythin’ in his mouth, and I can’t keep up just now. Now, what are you two doin’ in London?”

  Alice glanced at Mummy. She didn’t say anything, so Alice felt free to reply. “We’re getting me new outfits before I go back to boarding school. Uncle Charlie is with us—we’re going to get a sweet after this!”

  “Candy? Oh, how fun.” Mrs. Knight squeezed Alice’s hand, then let it go and withdrew her own into the carriage. “Perhaps I should let y’all go on with that. I don’t want to let a sick, old girl like me get in the way.”

  Sick, old girl? Well, she was sick and a girl, but she wasn’t old. Alice felt an impulsive need to comfort her. “You still have a pretty smile, at least.”

  Mummy squeezed Alice’s shoulder hard—apparently that wasn’t exactly a proper comment—but Mrs. Knight laughed. Or she tried to. It turned into a hacking cough.

  In a moment, she recovered, leaning back against the seat as if exhausted. “I really must go home now.” Her voice was a faint whisper, and her eyes were strangely bright. “But y’all should come to tea this afternoon at our house. Do you know the address? The Eltons have owned the place for years, I hear.”

  Alice looked up eagerly, seeking confirmation. She missed Mrs. Knight, even if her husband was awful, and it would be nice to see Ned again.

  Mummy’s eyes widened. “I … I don’t know if we should interfere. You plainly need your rest—”

  “Oh, honey, I’ll be right as rain by tonight. I’ll get a bit of a nap this afternoon, and I miss havin’ people around. I haven’t gotten to go to any parties in practically forever. Tell me you will come!”

  A look passed between Mummy and Mrs. Knight that Alice couldn’t identify. But, in the end, Mummy looked down first.

  Mummy nodded, her head bobbing up and down like a sideways pendulum, although Alice supposed pendulums didn’t work that way. “Yes. We’ll come.”

  “Good, good! I’ll expect you two and your brother at four, if that’s all right. We’ll have a marvelous time. I’ll make sure the maid brings Ned down for a bit, too, so we can all see him.” Mrs. Knight sighed. “There’s my maid now. Four?”

  “Yes, four.” Mummy placed a hand on Alice’s shoulder. “Thank you for the kind invitation.”

  “Oh, don’t mention it.”

  As soon as the maid stepped into the carriage and settled against the seat opposite Mrs. Knight, the carriage lurched forward, and in no time, it had disappeared in the traffic.

  Mummy and Alice walked back to their own conveyance, where Uncle Charlie greeted them with a disgusted look. However, after the situation was explained, he was a great deal more understanding and agreed to accompany them to tea at the Knights’.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Claire took a deep breath as a footman helped her down from the carriage. The Eltons’ London house towered above her, and her soul wanted to cringe and run away. She didn’t allow her eyes to linger too long, however, but instead forged on. Up the steps, into the foyer, and on to the parlor, Alice’s hand grasped tightly in her own.

  Mrs. Knight reclined on a sofa, her feet propped up, and Mr. Knight lingered nearby. When Claire, Alice, and Charlie entered the room, Mr. Knight rose and took two steps toward them before stopping.

  Even in the low lamplight, Claire could make out beads of sweat on his forehead, and his hair stood up as if he’d run his hands through it. Dreadful habit. But at least she knew he was as concerned about this meeting as she.

  I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want him to think I’ve come back into his life. This should be over now. It’s meant to be over!

  Yet, there was no turning back now. She greeted them both kindly, focusing her attention mostly on Mrs. Knight. The woman looked as bad as she had that afternoon. Her complexion had taken on a waxy tone, and every so often, she’d stop talking to deal with another coughing fit.

  Claire and Charlie glanced at each other. Mrs. Knight’s condition was certainly worsening. This would be the last time Claire let Alice in this house, definitely—though her child was strong, she couldn’t resist consumption. Alice was too young and the disease too deadly.

  Still, Mrs. Knight remained cheerful and Mr. Knight silent.

  Claire did her best to respond in a calm but friendly manner. She wasn’t sure what her position was—and she wasn’t at all sure what Mrs. Knight thought of her. As for the woman’s husband, Claire couldn’t care less. Indifference, it would seem, and perhaps a touch of irritation, would be her companions this afternoon.

  After tea was over, the servants whisked everything away, and Claire began to look for an escape. The sooner she got out of this situation, the better. Yes, Alice seemed to be enjoying herself, but for how long? Surely she knew what a strange tea party this was. Surely the hatred toward Mr. Knight must still exist—her daughter hadn’t spoken his name more than two or three times since she found out the truth.

  A servant brought down Ned, and Mrs. Knight rose on shaky feet.

  Mr. Knight jumped up and helped her. “Love, why don’t you sit down?” His voice was quiet but firm. “Let them bring Ned to you, and then the others can play with him. Please, for my sake.”

  “N-no.” She struggled for breath, then seemed to calm herself. “I’m fine, honey. I th-thought Mr. Chattoway and Alice and Ned and I could all go outside to the garden. Just a bit of fresh air would do me wonders.”

  “It’s rained this afternoon, and you’re already ill. Please—” He pulled at her arm, urging her to sit.

  Claire stood, too. “Yes, Mrs. Knight, please. Don’t take any risks.”

  Mr. Knight glanced at her, then back to his wife. “You’re pushing yourself too far. You ought to have rested tonight, but you insisted on this party. However, this really must be the last time. You know—”

  “What the doctor said?” Mrs. Knight shrugged. “I’m fine, Phil. Really, I am. Now, I’ll sit and watch Alice play with Ned for half an hour. What will that hurt? I want you to stay here and have a nice chat with Miss Chattoway and then come out to us when you’re all done. How’s that?”

  All the color left Mr. Knight’s skin, making him as ghostly as his wife. “I hardly think that’s necessary.” He spoke the words through gritted teeth, sounding like how Claire felt.

  Uncomfortable. Afraid. Irritated. Loath to have the conversation Mrs. Knight suggested.

  “You’ll thank me. Please.” She squeezed his arm and tottered away from him. Charlie grabbed her arm and sent Claire a worried look, but she felt helpless to protest, to make a scene in front of Alice.

  Her daughter ran off happily, naive to the emotions in her mother’s chest.

  The door clicked shut, and Claire turned to face her former husband. She met his gaze this time and told herself to remain firm.

  Mr. Knight cleared his throat. “She’s a master manipulator at times.” He made a sharp gesture toward the furniture. “Please. Sit. Let’s … She told me that she would l
ike us to speak to each other, and what about, but I didn’t think she would carry through. Yet, now that she has, I agree that perhaps exchanging a few words in a controlled situation might be … might be best.”

  Claire lowered herself onto an uncomfortable but stylish chair. “I see. She knows all, then?”

  “All. I spared no details.” He took a seat and gripped his trouser legs. “I should have told her from the first, but I was afraid, and I admit I didn’t think it would come back to me. I thought you would be married again by now, and I certainly didn’t think … I didn’t expect the consequences.”

  Anger flashed hot, causing her vision to go red for a moment. “My children are not consequences, Mr. Knight. They are blessings. Unearned, God-given, impossibly undeserved blessings.” How so much good can come out of evil is beyond me. She didn’t say the last aloud, but she felt it. Claire’s life seemed pulled out of a cheap novel, and the effect was demoralizing. God, you couldn’t want me, could you?

  He started to stand but remained seated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for my phrasing to offend you. I only meant that, of course, your life has changed because of the children. For the better in some ways, yes, but you were removed from your position and forced to work for your own living. You should never have been forced that low, Miss Chattoway. You succeeded, of course, because you must. But a lady shouldn’t have to do such a thing.

  “I consider it to be entirely my fault. I will not even mention your parents’ part in it, as it is insignificant to my own behavior, my own weaknesses.” He paused and looked away for a long moment before turning back and meeting her eyes. “It’s a complicated issue, but I want you to know that I am apologetic, and I do not place the blame on your head as I had thought to originally.

  “My pride got the best of me, and I thought I couldn’t beg. I’d written so many letters and not received a reply, and I thought if I continued begging, it would only serve to further humiliate me. In addition, my country had launched itself into a civil war not long after our brief marriage—not even weeks after—and it was a welcome escape.”

  Claire blinked. “I didn’t know—” She stopped herself. “I only mean to say, I didn’t know you were in the army in America.”

  “Briefly, yes. Three years. I was shot through the shoulder.” He rolled his right arm as if the memory brought a pang, and she had to coax herself out of sympathy.

  She wouldn’t be concerned. She wouldn’t.

  Still, she owed him basic courtesy, as a lady. “I see. I’m sorry.”

  He flushed. “It was of no consequence. The fact remains that I have caused a great deal of trouble for you, and for our children, and I apologize.”

  Trouble. Children. Apologize. Yes, he could say “sorry” all he wanted to—but Claire didn’t think it was within her to forgive him. If that was what he was asking. She wasn’t sure. Perhaps he only wanted an opportunity to say how sorry he was.

  Unlikely. Nobody wanted to offer something for nothing. Yet, neither was Claire willing to take words and exchange them for something as precious as forgiveness. He’d wounded her, and it would be some time before she could look at him without revulsion.

  If she ever saw him again.

  The bittersweetness of it hit her again. Yes, the separation would be good for her—and doubtless good for his family and him. But what of her children? What of the rest of her life? What of memories she must toss away?

  Forgive him.

  Claire swallowed hard and turned her face away. She wasn’t sure where the voice came from, only that it was insistent.

  You should forgive him. The bitterness is eating you alive. So forgive him.

  “I can’t.” She didn’t realize until they were spoken that the words had come out aloud, but the look on Mr. Knight’s face confirmed that, indeed, she had voiced her thoughts. He must think her insane.

  “You can’t what?”

  Claire wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. “Forgive you. I can’t forgive you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. I loved you for so long, and the betrayal hurt. And, for some time now, the bitterness has grown and grown, and now I fear I’ll never be able to be around you without feeling the pain.”

  Mr. Knight remained silent. He stood after a bit and walked to the window. When the silence had stretched on for what seemed like eternity, he spoke. “Alice seems to be taking to Ned again. You can see them playing in the garden here. He’s a cheerful little fellow.”

  “I-I’ve noticed.” She, too, rose and walked to his side. “He’s a lovely boy. I’m glad for you. I won’t allow Alice and Ivy to interfere with your family … I promise. Your name will never be associated with them.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “What if I want my name to be associated with them? What if … what if I’d like to see them from time to time?” He turned to face her, and she stepped back. “I love them, Claire. I know it’s not fair for me to interfere—it’s the last thing they need. But I want you to know that my aid is there, financial or otherwise. Of course, Hazel would have to be involved …” He faced the window again. “No more secrets.”

  Claire shrugged. She needed those secrets to keep people from spitting in her face on the street. At least in part. But she supposed if she were married, she would keep nothing from her spouse. That, she could approve of. “Very well. I’ll contact you if I ever need help.”

  “But more than that—I’d like to see them from time to time.” He cleared his throat, and his eyes snaked sideways at her. “Hazel agrees. We would both be honored if we were allowed to be part of their lives.”

  Claire watched his face. “You mean that?” There were no lies in his eyes, but men could hide their true nature deeper than what one could see. She knew that now. “It’s not just duty or pride?” Not that it mattered. He couldn’t be very involved—the children were hers. Still, she felt a need to justify her mistrust in him, and it was hard to do that if his feelings for the girls were sincere.

  “Of course not!” His fingers gripped the sill until his knuckles turned white. “But I suppose I’ve given you no reason to believe otherwise. You must simply take my word for it. Can you imagine knowing you had a child—children—and not being able to spend time with them because of your own actions?”

  No, Claire couldn’t. She would never allow such a thing to happen. But then, hadn’t she separated herself from Alice for her own good by sending her to boarding school? And hadn’t she experienced guilt for bringing Alice and Ivy into a world where they could be so hated?

  “I can see how that would be difficult,” she admitted. Not as difficult as being abandoned by the man you love … but difficult. “If you like, we can find a way for you to meet—sometimes. I’m not sure Alice wants to see you.”

  Mr. Knight nodded. “I understand why.” Claire thought there was genuine repentance in his eyes. But, again, eyes often told stories hearts didn’t echo. “I’ll let her make the decisions. You needn’t worry about me forcing myself on her.”

  Claire almost laughed at his choice of words—though, perhaps it was tasteless to laugh. Certainly she couldn’t tell him the reason why, at any rate. “Very well. As long as you are gentle. She isn’t sensitive, not exactly, but I won’t have you getting her hopes up. She cares very deeply.”

  “I can see that.” He gestured toward the door. “Let’s go see them now. I won’t risk any feelings of mistrust from my wife. Not personal, you understand—I believe ‘once bitten, twice shy.’” Mr. Knight’s entire face flamed red. “I only meant … I only meant that I don’t want to cause another round of gossip. I’d like to save both of our reputations further damage. Y-you understand?”

  She dropped her eyes. “Yes. I understood you.” He wasn’t the vengeful sort, and she didn’t believe him exactly capable of that type of barb. “I agree. If we are above reproach, there can be no gossip. So let us be.”

  He nodded and held the door for her. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for being so reaso
nable.”

  Had she any choice but to be? Would throwing a fit help? Probably not. And perhaps forgiveness was the path to follow. She’d seen bitterness erode good people—and she’d seen joy in those who triumphed over it.

  If Nettie could move on, Claire could, too. Maybe God would look favorably on her. Half-forgotten verses from a childhood of routine study drifted to her consciousness about forgiveness: “Even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.”

  She wordlessly followed Mr. Knight to the garden.

  Ned squealed and launched himself into Alice’s arms, causing them both to tumble back on the grass. She managed to stand and pick him up, though he was almost too heavy for her. She set him down again and directed his attention to some pretty flowers.

  “Why don’t you pick some for me, Neddie?” Mrs. Knight said. Her voice was an airy whisper, and Alice hoped she could breathe all right.

  Ned set himself enthusiastically to the task and, in no time, returned and handed his mother a crushed fistful of flowers, all plucked off just below the blooms. Alice would have to give him some flower-picking lessons.

  Mrs. Knight tried to stand from her seat on a bench, then sat down quickly and coughed. “This cold has made me weaker than a newborn.” She coughed again—and again and again.

  Alice clutched Ned close and watched, a bit afraid. No one could cough that much and still have their insides in the proper places. At least, Alice didn’t think so.

  “Mrs. Knight, should I get you anything?” Uncle Charlie stepped forward, eyes dark. His hand rested lightly on her lower back as she bent over and clutched her handkerchief to her mouth.

  “I’m fine.” Mrs. Knight coughed out the words, muffled in her hand, rather than said them. “It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine …” She pulled away from Uncle Charlie, and Alice saw dull red stains on the cloth in her hand.

  Mrs. Knight swayed on her feet and tumbled to the ground.

  Alice shrieked as Uncle Charlie rushed to catch her.