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

by Kellyn Roth

  Obstinate? She wasn’t obstinate—she knew how to get things done. “Mummy—”

  “Shush, darling.” She didn’t even look at Alice but kept her eyes on Mr. Knight. “Have you been in London long, sir?”

  “A few days. I was surprised to find you here, too, though I suppose Alice has a fortnight holiday.” He glanced toward the door as if half-expecting to be booted out of it, but he remained on his seat. “I’d like your permission to visit Alice and Ivy from time to time.”

  “You have it.” Miss Chattoway rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I remembered—that is, I should attend to … other things.”

  “Oh.” He rose hastily. “I should be on my way, too. But I’ll see you … sometime.”

  “Yes. Sometime.”

  In a whirlwind of activity, he was gone. Alice hurried upstairs to watch his carriage leave from the window.

  Why do adults always have to make everything so awkward?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Five Months Later

  December 1872

  “I want to get Mummy a new comb,” Alice said, slipping her fingers into Uncle Charlie’s hand against the rush of Christmas shoppers on the London street. “I think Ivy would like ribbons. Do you think that’s too silly?”

  “No, I don’t think any gift is too silly.” Uncle Charlie jerked her to the side so they wouldn’t be run over by a cart. “There now. The shop we want is across the street. Though, I doubt we’ll survive the trip across.”

  “Perhaps we could go over a ways down.”

  “That’s probably wisest.”

  They began wading through the crowd once again, jostled at every side. They rested by a lamppost for a moment before continuing on.

  “Alice? Mr. Chattoway?” It might have been five months, but Alice wasn’t about to forget that gentle tenor.

  Mr. Knight stood behind them, Ned sitting in the crook of his arm. Behind him, a manservant trailed, his arms full of packages.

  “Christmas shopping?” Uncle Charlie said.

  “Indeed.” He shifted Ned to his other arm. “Miss Elton is having a dress fitted, and I thought Ned and I could see what there was while we waited. Of course, we found a great many things—I enjoy buying presents.”

  Uncle Charlie, who liked nothing more than to express his dislike of shopping, grunted. “Yes, well … Alice does, too.”

  Alice admitted she was glad to see Mr. Knight but wished it weren’t here, where they could barely talk. He’d written her a number of letters since they’d met last, and it made her want to be his friend.

  More than that, be his daughter.

  But how could she be if she never got to spend any time with him? If random meetings on the street and letters were all she could count on, how would they become close?

  An idea blossomed in her brain, and it was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

  “You’ll be alone, then, for Christmas, won’t you, Mr. Knight? Or practically? With Mrs. Knight gone and only Miss Elton and Mr. Parker for company. And Ned, of course.”

  Mr. Knight blinked, and his eyes flickered helplessly to Uncle Charlie’s face.

  “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” Alice glanced between the two men, who shuffled from foot to foot as if unsure how to respond.

  “I suppose it is, Alice. But my cousins and I are friends, and of course I have Ned.” He bounced the boy on his arm, causing him to squeal and giggle.

  “But still … wouldn’t it be better to have the burden of hosting Christmas off you?” Here Alice nudged Uncle Charlie in the ribs.

  He glared at her and rubbed his side. “This is a dangerous part of London.”

  Mr. Knight chuckled. “Indeed. I’m not searching for an invitation, though, Mr. Chattoway. This is Alice’s invention.”

  “It’s a good invention!” Alice turned pleading eyes to Uncle Charlie. “I think we ought to take care of widowers and orphans. It’s in the Bible.”

  “I think that’s widows and orphans, Alice.” Uncle Charlie squeezed her shoulder. “But, truly, Mr. Knight, you would be welcome at Starboard Hall. I believe we ought to try to foster a relationship between our families.”

  Mr. Knight shook his head. “We couldn’t impose. Besides, Steven and Lois would tear each other apart left alone that long—it wouldn’t do.” He glanced over the throng. “It’s starting to clear up. Where are you off to?”

  “Oliver’s. Alice has a few trinkets she wants to purchase.” Uncle Charlie glanced at his watch. “We must go. But, really, you should come to Starboard. We have plenty of room and plenty of cheer. Mr. Parker and Miss Elton would both be welcome.”

  Mr. Knight hesitated, caressing his son’s chubby leg. “I would, but I fear Miss Chattoway might not want … might not appreciate my presence in her home.”

  “Oh, bosh. Claire won’t mind! But, if you want, I’ll have her send the invitation. We’re leaving for Starboard tomorrow morning. You should expect an official invitation in the mail soon.”

  Mr. Knight struggled to keep his face straight. “Oh! Well, in that case, I’ll … I’ll consider it. Of course, my cousins would have to be consulted, too …”

  “Of course.”

  Once they were off in the crowd, Uncle Charlie glanced down at Alice with a wry smile. “Well, little miss. It lies with you to convince your mother. I doubt it’ll be much of a task for you. Mr. Knight can say whatever he pleases, but it’s clear the invitation was a welcome one. You’re a master, Alice—but not even slightly subtle.”

  Alice pretended not to know what he was talking about.

  Starboard Hall

  Claire stared at her brother, but no matter how long she stared, the words that came out of his mouth didn’t change.

  “You want me to invite Mr. Knight and company to Starboard? Myself? A personal invitation?” No. Never. He’d read a thousand things into it that she didn’t want to say, especially less than a year after his wife’s death.

  Not that it made any difference how long it’d been, because Claire wasn’t interested in him. Forgiveness seemed far beyond her grasp, and she was unsure if God even allowed them a new start. We’re too far gone, aren’t we?

  “I don’t see why that’s a problem.” Charlie leaned casually against the doorway of his office, where she’d tucked herself away to wrap presents. He seemed to think he was asking her to do something simple, something one did every day.

  Something that was not inviting her former husband—the father of her children—and his family to her brother’s estate for Christmas.

  “Mr. Knight wouldn’t come unless you allowed it.” Charlie examined his fingernails, innocent as a newborn kitten but with a great deal more claw control. “Alice wants him to come, I think. She suggested it.”

  This gets better and better. “Charlie, you can’t expect me to want that man here—and for Christmas, of all things! I get so little time with Alice now, and Nettie’s having a baby within the week, and Christy is coming …” She ran her hand over her face as if that could rub away all her worries. “It’s going to be stressful as it is.”

  “I know. So why not add one more stressful thing?” He shrugged. “I’m warning you. Alice is biding her time, but she’ll ask.”

  Claire sighed. Of course she would. And though Claire was skilled in the art of telling Alice no, her daughter’s determination and follow-through didn’t make it easy. It meant direct conflict—there was no putting Alice off easily.

  “I’ll leave you to your presents.” He backed out of the door, and it clicked shut behind him.

  Claire sat still for a moment, then checked to make sure everything Alice shouldn’t see were wrapped. She had an idea that after Alice had finished visiting with Nettie, she would be coming down to make the request. Claire was glad Charlie had warned her—she still wasn’t sure of her answer.

  Then there was a light rap on the door. “Mummy? Can I come in?”

  She set a bundle of tangled ribbons aside. “Yes, darling.”


  The door eased open, and Alice peeked around it. “It’s funny—I don’t like secrets, but I do like being surprised about Christmas. I wouldn’t want to know ahead of time!”

  Claire laughed and motioned her over to the desk. “Everything is well-hidden. This is for your aunt Christy. Come help me find the perfect box.”

  Alice banged the door shut behind her and began digging through the boxes. “Of course, I have a reason for being here, Mummy.”

  “Mm.” Never a surprise. Claire grabbed a piece of paper to write a little note for her sister. “Go on, then.”

  Alice picked out a few boxes that seemed about the right size for the Dickens book Claire had bought for Christy. “I thought we could invite Mr. Knight and his family to Starboard for Christmas. We met him in London, and he seemed lonely. And poor little Ned hasn’t any mother or real family like us. So, really, it’d be our Christian duty.”

  Christian duty? That was taking it a bit far. Claire set her pen back in the inkwell and placed her hands palms up on the desk. “Don’t you feel that would be a bit awkward?”

  “Awkward?” Alice placed a flat box on the desk in front of Claire. “Why would it be awkward?”

  The innocence was both feigned and unrealistic. “Alice.”

  The puppy-dog eyes came out. “But I miss him! And Ned. And Mr. Parker and Miss Elton aren’t bad, either.”

  She wants this. It would make her happy. But how could Claire consent to such a thing? Mr. Knight wanted her invitation, as Charlie had said, but it made no sense for her to be the one to invite him. They had a history, after all, and not one she wanted to dredge up. Especially as everyone would doubtless read far too much into it.

  Still, she had no true reason to not want him here. He was still in mourning for his wife. Nothing would happen. Nothing could happen.

  Can I forgive him? God, is that what You want of me? But surely I can’t have him back. No, of course not—there isn’t that much grace for us.

  But Alice wanted to spend more time with her father. A natural feeling—not one Claire ought to squash.

  She stood and took the package from Alice. “I have one condition.”

  Alice’s face brightened. “All right.”

  “You send the invitation. You may say that I allowed it, but it must be from you.” Claire tied a bow with the ribbon she’d selected for the package. “Will you do that?”

  “I will.” Alice grinned and bounced on her toes. “I’m so excited! Can I write it now?”

  “There’s paper and pen on the desk.” She placed the package in a pile with the other ones. “While you begin that, I’m going to talk to Nettie.” Though as of yet there were no obvious signs of labor, her maid would plainly give birth soon, and Claire made a habit of checking in with her every few hours.

  Alice hopped onto Uncle Charlie’s chair and shoved it forward. “I’ll see you in a bit. You’ll read it for me and make sure it looks all right, won’t you?”

  That much Claire could do. In fact, she’d appreciate knowing what was said. She didn’t want Alice implying anything that wasn’t true—and she did believe her child, almost eleven already, to be capable of it. “Yes, of course.”

  Claire quit the room and hurried up the stairs to her maid’s chamber. For now, she’d placed her not far from her own room. A breach of custom, yes, but she’d been close to Nettie so many years ago, when Alice and Ivy had been born—how could she offer anything less in the woman’s time of need?

  Nettie was up again. Of course she was. Thankfully, this time she remained in her room, though not in her bed as the doctor had ordered. Instead, she sat on a chair near the window with a book.

  “Nettie!” Claire pointed at the bed. “What did I say?”

  “I’m fine.” Nettie set her book down. “It’s going to be soon, but I’d rather be active and make it sooner. Though, of course I can’t, because of these absurd restrictions.”

  “Not absurd. Just cautionary.” Claire took a seat on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

  “Fine. Impatient! No pains since last night.” Nettie struggled to rise, and Claire hurried to her side. “I really am all right—or I will be when I have my baby in my arms.” Her eyes shone. “I don’t know if I ought to be afraid of being this happy or if I should accept it for the miracle it is.”

  “I say enjoy it.” Claire smiled. “God has blessed you. Don’t doubt Him!”

  Nettie shrugged. “I don’t. Myself, though? Goodness, I can’t stop.”

  “Oh, nonsense. You’ve already been a mother.” Claire picked up the book. “You’re really going to tell your child you read From the Earth to the Moon on the very eve of her birth? A French novel, Nettie.”

  “It’s going to be a boy this time.” Nettie did manage to get to her feet then. “At least it’s not in its original language. Hopefully it won’t turn my child too continental.” She paused, then laughed. “You almost got away with that because I’m tired. Claire, you conceived in France.”

  She chuckled. “That I did. But I didn’t tell you why I came up. I wanted to see you, but I also wanted to share the latest thing Alice has talked me into.”

  “Oh dear. Now what?”

  “She’s inviting Mr. Knight, Mr. Parker, Miss Elton, and little Ned to Starboard for Christmas.” Claire shook her head, a bit incredulous about it still. “She met him in London, and he seemed to want an invitation but implied that he would only accept with my permission. And she has it, of course. She couldn’t not.” Alice really could be a statesman if she were a boy. She stood to be a powerful woman even so, and Claire only hoped she had the ability to curb her daughter’s enthusiasm before she went too far.

  Still, on this point, she could afford to be lenient.

  Nettie didn’t reply. Perhaps she didn’t approve of Claire’s parenting of Alice. It wouldn’t be the first time—Claire tended to trade leniency for love. It was a bad habit, one she struggled to break, but she felt a delicate balance was needed with Alice.

  Nettie, on the other hand, believed that to love was often to deny, especially in the case of a mother. She never hesitated to tell Alice no.

  Claire turned to find Nettie pale, clinging to the back of the chair with distant eyes.

  “Nettie?” Have the pains started again? “Nettie, is it the baby?”

  “I-I’m not sure.”

  Claire took Nettie’s arm and led her to the bed. “Now, lie down. I asked the doctor to stop by this afternoon and see if everything is going well …”

  “That’s not necessary.” Nettie placed her hands protectively over her stomach all the same. Unlike most women, she hadn’t grown much larger than her usual petite size since she’d conceived. “The baby’s fine. It’s going to be a while.”

  How could she be sure? Claire never had been—childbirth was as much a mystery to her now as it had been a dozen years ago. Well, almost. “Is there any … any pain?”

  “Some. Occasionally. I’m … I’m sorry. I suppose I was in another world.” She ran her hands over her face, twitched from side to side. “I apologize. I must have scared you.”

  Why is she acting so strange? Claire supposed all women close to childbirth had the right to act a bit oddly. “Can I get you anything?”

  Nettie shook her head. “No, no. I … I’m surprised you allowed Mr. Knight to come here.”

  “Yes, well.” She gritted out a smile. “Alice is persuasive, as you know. So now we’ll have quite the crowd for Christmas.” A bit of understanding dawned on her. “I suppose it is difficult for you to imagine having people here when you’ll be a new mother. I’ll keep everyone away—I would never let you become overtaxed.” She meant that. Nettie’s health was a priority. Such a faithful friend deserved all the rest and attention—or lack thereof—she wanted.

  “Thank you.” Nettie closed her eyes and sighed. “As long as I’m left alone, I’ll be fine.”

  Claire squeezed her friend’s arm. “Don’t worry. It’ll turn out all right.” If o
nly Claire could convince herself of that fact, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The room was hushed, and Alice felt like tiptoeing but managed to walk normally. Nettie looked far too tired for Alice’s liking. Even Ivy seemed to cower a bit.

  “Gracie, Ivy, come here.” Nettie held out her free arm, the other cradling the tiny bundle. “This is Malcolm.”

  Malcolm? But Alice had pre-approved an honorary baby sister, not a boy. She wasn’t even sure she liked boys outside of their necessary uses. “He’s a boy?”

  Nettie laughed. “I’m afraid you can’t control that, Alice. But, yes, he’s a beautiful boy. Come see.”

  Alice walked across the room to peek at the baby. A funny little face, a mouth opening and closing like a fish, and scrunched-shut eyes. He wrinkled his nose, and Alice did think he was sweet. She liked Ned—maybe Malcolm would turn out to be another one in a million.

  “Isn’t he beautiful?” Nettie sighed and caressed Malcolm’s cheek. “Ivy, what do you think?”

  “I think he’s pretty.” Ivy placed a tentative hand on his cheek, then drew back. “He’s soft, too.”

  Nettie smiled. “Yes, indeed. Alice?” Her eyes were so hopeful.

  “He is sweet, Nettie.” She fingered the edge of the blanket. “I think we’ll be the best of friends. Will he have eyes like you? Can you tell?”

  Nettie beamed. “Oh, I don’t know. Tom has pretty eyes, so I hope … but you can’t tell, no, not so early on. Though, we always knew you would have black eyes, Gracie.” She reached up to affectionately cup Alice’s face. Her hand dropped to the counterpane after a moment. “Tom insists he doesn’t see as much of himself as me in little Malcolm.”

  Jameson emerged from the corner of the room. “Now, Nettie, we both know he has your ears and nose. Just look at him! Stop denying it.”

  Alice cocked her head and examined the baby’s face more closely. She couldn’t see any resemblance, but parents often said those types of things. She didn’t think she particularly resembled Mummy, yet people would go out of their way to compare them. Especially Nettie.