by Adele Whitby
I was so stunned by Cousin Gabrielle’s outburst that I did not know how to respond. “But—it is—your locket is very lovely!” I stammered. “The engraving is so delicate, and the silver gleams in the sunlight. And what about this—the T must be for Trufant. Is it a family heirloom?”
“Yes, it has been in the Trufant family for two hundred years,” Gabrielle replied carelessly. “But that does not make it valuable. I am still hopeful that Maman will let me wear her jewels when we are in America. It would be the shame of my life to wear this hunk of metal to Kate’s birthday celebration. The parties they throw in America are probably the most lavish in the entire world!”
I gasped before I could stop myself. “You’ll be in attendance for Cousin Kate’s birthday?”
“But of course!” Gabrielle replied. “I would not miss her party for anything. Maman says that the very best of American society will be there. And I shall see the Katherine necklace. I wonder which will be more beautiful—the Elizabeth necklace or the Katherine one. Rubies are far superior to sapphires, so I expect that the Katherine necklace will be more stunning.”
I was hardly listening to what Gabrielle was saying about the value of the gems in the Elizabeth and Katherine necklaces. Instead I tried to quell the jealousy churning in my stomach. Of course, I had known that the Trufants would journey to America after their visit to Chatswood Manor. But I hadn’t realized that they would attend Cousin Kate’s twelfth birthday party. I would have given anything to be there.
“I am sure you will have a wonderful time,” I managed to say. Then I scolded myself: Beth, you must rise above your envy. It is very unbecoming.
“You must see my dress for Kate’s party. It is the most beautiful gown I have ever owned,” Gabrielle bragged. “And when I am in America, I will have five more made for me by the best dressmaker in New York. I do not know anyone who has gowns from Paris, London, and New York!”
“Indeed,” was all I could say. Where was her excitement over getting to meet Kate? Or how wonderful it would be to meet Kate’s great-grandmother Katherine, a dear friend of her own great-grandmother? How much my cousin Gabrielle had changed in three short years. It made me so sad.
At least our tour of the garden was almost complete . . . because I didn’t know how much longer I could bear Gabrielle’s rudeness without saying something I would surely regret.
Before bed that night, I wrote a letter to Kate.
9 June 1914
My Dearest Cousin Kate,
Tonight, on the eve of my twelfth birthday, I write to you for the last time as an eleven-year-old! I am all aflutter with excitement for what tomorrow will bring: the picnic, the dinner, and, of course, the presentation of the Elizabeth necklace. And the following night is my birthday party! I’ve hung my gown just so in the wardrobe so that I can see it from my bed. At night I imagine myself waltzing around the ballroom, wearing my beautiful gown, and I’m sure I fall asleep smiling. I wish, dear Cousin, that you could be at my party. That would make it perfect.
I haven’t had many opportunities to spend time with Cousin Gabrielle since the Trufants arrived yesterday. This is probably for the best. I find Gabrielle to be greatly changed since our last visit, and not for the better. I don’t wish to sully her good name, but I thought I should give you a bit of warning since Gabrielle will be visiting you in a few weeks as well. How lucky she is to meet you. And even luckier to celebrate your twelfth birthday with you! Mother and Father stand firm in their decision that I am still too young to travel all the way to America. They say that perhaps when I am fourteen they will reconsider. Fourteen! That is still two long years away! I wish that I could stow away in one of Gabrielle’s enormous steamer trunks and surprise you. But I suppose that sort of childish thought is one that I should leave behind, now that I am about to turn twelve.
Mother just came in to say good night; she tells me that I must go to bed soon so that I will be well rested for all the birthday festivities that the next two days will bring. I will tell you all about them in my next letter, of course, and spare no detail. I will certainly be missing you throughout it all, and wishing that you were here to celebrate with me.
With great love and affection,
I remain,
Your Cousin Beth
I was waiting for the ink to dry when there was a knock on my door. It was Shannon, bringing my bedtime tray of drinking chocolate and biscuits. Even though the June days were pleasant, the nights still grew cold. A cup of drinking chocolate before bed was just the thing to ward off the chill.
“Would you like to get ready for bed now, Lady Beth?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied.
She busied herself about the room, laying out a fresh set of underclothes and my second-best nightgown. It was as white as pure snow, trimmed with red ribbons and velvet roses.
“Oh, Shannon, I want to wear my blue nightgown tonight,” I reminded her as I started brushing my hair.
Shannon paused and looked at me in the mirror. “I am very sorry, Lady Beth, but your blue nightgown is unavailable tonight.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Where is it?”
“I am afraid it is still in the laundry.”
I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “But I wanted to wake up wearing it on my birthday! I wanted all of my birthday outfits, from morning till night, to be blue! It was to be a tribute to my great-grandmother!”
“I know, Lady Beth. And I am very sorry,” Shannon said in a trembling voice. “But there is an unfortunate stain on your nightgown that will require additional treatment.”
Poor Shannon looked so miserable that I immediately regretted my outburst. “Never mind, Shannon,” I said. “I have other nightgowns. But I am curious—what stain are you talking about? I don’t remember that my nightgown was soiled, just worn.”
“It has a red stain on the sleeve,” Shannon explained. “Jam, perhaps? Or cordial?”
“A red stain?” I repeated. “How peculiar. I didn’t have jam or cordial while wearing my nightgown.”
“That is strange,” Shannon replied with a frown. “It’s a stubborn stain, too. Ordinarily I would use lemon juice on a stain like that, but I fear it would bleach your pretty blue nightgown. But don’t you worry, Lady Beth. I’ll get that stain out and make your nightgown good as new. I will do my best to have it ready for you to wear tomorrow night.”
“But I thought you weren’t responsible for the laundry anymore,” I replied.
Shannon’s eyes darted off to the side. “Yes, of course, that’s right,” she said quickly. “What I meant to say is that I will oversee Peggy’s efforts to remove the stain.”
“Oh, of course,” I said.
Shannon reached for the hairbrush and finished brushing my hair. Then she helped me into my second-best nightgown without saying a word. In the mirror, I could see her lips drawn together in a worried frown. I wanted to make Shannon feel better, so I glanced at my reflection and said, “You know, I think this nightgown is just the thing to wear tonight. Aren’t the little red roses sweet? I have a feeling that Great-Grandmother Elizabeth would approve.”
Shannon smiled a little. “Yes, milady, I am sure she would.”
And the longer I looked in the mirror, the more I believed it.
I woke up with a start the next morning: My birthday was here at last! I leaped out of bed and rang for Shannon.
“Would it be all right if I were to be the first person to wish you a happy birthday?” Shannon asked shyly when she entered a moment later.
“Why, of course!” I exclaimed, giving her an impulsive hug.
With Shannon’s help, I rushed through my morning toilette, eager to go downstairs for my birthday breakfast. Despite how quickly I’d dressed, I was the last person to arrive. Though Uncle Claude and Father were in the middle of a heated discussion, they both rose at once when I entered.
“My dear girl!” Father exclaimed as he took my hands in his and kissed my cheek. “Happy
birthday, Beth, and many happy returns of the day!”
“Thank you, Father!”
“Bonne anniversaire, ma nièce,” Uncle Claude said. “You grow more beautiful every time I see you. I think you must not accept the Elizabeth necklace today, for you will outshine it. A lesser beauty would be better served by such a jewel.”
I smiled at Uncle Claude’s teasing. I’m sure it was no secret that I could hardly wait to call the Elizabeth necklace my own.
“Gabrielle, you must still be asleep.” Uncle Claude laughed as he nudged his daughter. “Go, greet your cousin on her birthday.”
Gabrielle rose from the table at her leisure and carelessly kissed the air near my face. “Happy birthday, Cousin,” she said, but she didn’t sound very enthusiastic.
As soon as I was seated, Father and Uncle Claude’s conversation picked up where it had left off.
“I am telling you, Edwin, that war is coming whether we are ready or not,” Uncle Claude said firmly. “German expansion knows no bounds, and the rest of Europe is too unstable to manage such overreach. The situation grows more grave by the day.”
Father shook his head. There was just a hint of a smile on his face. “Claude, Claude, you are worrying for nothing,” he replied calmly as he buttered a crumpet. “It’s 1914! The modern age is here! And as progress marches on, mankind works together for our betterment—not our destruction.”
“You are an ostrich, with your head stuck in the sand!” Uncle Claude shot back. “You will not acknowledge what is coming until the bullets start flying. The country life provides too much shelter from the harsh truths of the real world. All this frittering about, fox hunts and afternoon tea—”
I glanced across the table at Gabrielle, hoping to catch her eye. But she just yawned and took a sip of her tea. It was clear that she had heard this conversation before.
“I say, now,” Father said, sounding annoyed. “You’ve forgotten your manners, old chap. There is always a way to avoid war if one wants to avoid it.”
I sighed as Bertram, one of the footmen, placed a slice of melon on my plate. It seemed that Uncle Claude wanted to talk of nothing but war. War, war, war, at every meal. I had hoped we might discuss something else on my birthday, especially since this war of his seemed to exist only in his imagination. After all, Father was right: The world was at peace! I would have changed the subject if I could have, but I knew that it wasn’t my place to speak up when the conversation did not involve me. Children should be seen and not heard, I had been taught. If only Mother were at the table with us, she would be able to deflect such talk—but of course she took breakfast in bed, like all married ladies.
Then Mr. Harrison stepped forward to pour my tea. I was a bit surprised by this, because such a menial task is usually left to the footmen.
“Happy birthday, Lady Beth,” he said in a voice so low that only I could hear him. “I should hate to spoil the surprise, but it might interest you to know that your mother waits for you in the parlor.”
“She does?” I asked.
Mr. Harrison nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Yes, she rose early this morning,” he replied. “I believe I saw a velvet jewel box tucked under her arm.”
I gasped before I could catch myself. So I wouldn’t have to wait all day! Mother planned to present the Elizabeth necklace to me right after breakfast!
“Thank you, Mr. Harrison!” I said happily. For the rest of breakfast, I occupied myself with thoughts of the Elizabeth necklace and all the Elizabeths who had worn it before me: my mother, Lady Liz; my grandmother, Lady Eliza; and of course my great-grandmother, the original Elizabeth. Such pleasant thoughts made it easy to ignore Uncle Claude’s talk of war.
Then, at last, Father put his napkin beside his plate and pushed his chair away from the table. “Well, I suppose we should all get on with the day,” he said to no one in particular.
“I beg your pardon, Lord Etheridge,” Mr. Harrison said, staring straight ahead. “Lady Liz has requested the pleasure of everyone’s company in the parlor.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Father said. He turned to me and held out his arm. “Beth?”
I felt very grown-up on Father’s arm as we walked to the parlor. Mother was standing by the Chinese lacquer cabinet, beneath the portrait of Elizabeth and Katherine that had been painted when they were twelve years old. It was a very special portrait of the twins, for they were wearing their necklaces, but a sad one too; their mother, Lady Mary, had died just months before. Those precious necklaces, which had come to mean so much to so many generations, had been Lady Mary’s last gift to her daughters.
“Dear Beth,” Mother said, smiling warmly as she placed the jewel box atop the cabinet and extended her arms to me.
Father led me to the front of the room, where Mother and Grandmother embraced me.
“On this day, we mark the passing of twelve years since your birth,” Mother began. “Today, my dearest girl, the door on your childhood begins to close. Your future unfurls before you, bringing with it all the responsibilities belonging to a lady of Chatswood Manor. The people will look to you, Beth, and you must remember the example you set for them in all that you say and do.”
“Yes, Mother,” I said as I nodded my head.
“And with these duties come many privileges,” continued Mother. “Including this one, which you will wear around your neck: the Elizabeth necklace, given to every eldest daughter in our line since Lady Elizabeth Chatswood Tynne wore it first. It gives me great joy, my daughter, to present these precious jewels to you today.”
Grandmother stepped next to Mother, and together they opened the lid of the jewel box and drew out the Elizabeth necklace. Mother cradled the pendant in her palm while Grandmother gently held the long chain to keep it from getting tangled.
“Turn around, my dear,” Mother said.
I closed my eyes as Mother slipped the Elizabeth necklace around my neck. It was heavier than I had expected, and the gold felt warm, as if it had retained the heat from all of the Elizabeths before me who had worn it. And yet, from the moment the pendant touched my chest, it felt as if it had always been a part of me.
Mother gently turned me back to face her. Tears shone in her beautiful blue eyes. “Happy birthday, my darling,” she whispered, kissing my face.
Behind her, Grandmother used a dainty lace handkerchief to wipe away a tear. “I still remember when my mother gave the necklace to me,” she said. “I know that many people were shocked she would do such a thing. Everyone expected Lady Elizabeth to wear that necklace to her dying day. But she was firm in her conviction that there was no better way to mark a girl’s twelfth birthday. Receiving the necklace from her was the proudest moment of my life.”
“I remember how special it was when the two of you gave the Elizabeth necklace to me,” Mother said to her. “It was during my birthday party, and everyone left the ballroom to watch, filling the parlor to capacity! I was so nervous with all those eyes on me; my knees were knocking so that I could barely walk. Grandmother Elizabeth smiled at me, as though she knew that all would be well. And she was right.”
“I wish she could be here today,” I said softly.
“So do I,” Mother replied. “So do I.”
Grandmother reached for our hands. “My dears, she is here,” Grandmother said. “In spirit, she is with us, and she has never been more pleased.”
“Wrong! That’s wrong, all wrong!”
The three of us jolted as though an electric shock had passed through us. That harsh voice rang in my ears—wrong, all wrong—as Cecily tottered toward me. Her hand was like a claw as she grasped my lovely Elizabeth necklace. Cecily peered closely at it, and her entire face twisted into a disapproving frown.
“You’ve got the wrong necklace, my girl!” she announced.
Father was on his feet at once. “Now, Grandmother,” he said to Cecily. “This is very unbecoming.”
“I should say so!” Cecily snapped at him. “All this pomp and they’ve given the gir
l the Katherine necklace! You’ve made a laughingstock of tradition!”
My grandmother frowned. “I can assure you, Cecily, that we have given Beth the correct necklace.”
“The Katherine necklace has blue stones. The Elizabeth necklace has red. So it has been, so it shall always be,” Cecily said firmly. “I should know. I was close friends with the twins and saw them wearing their necklaces countless times.”
I turned away from Cecily by instinct, my hands protectively covering the Elizabeth necklace. Could it be? I wondered. Could this be the wrong necklace?
Aunt Beatrice spoke up. “It was a great many years ago, Grandmother. I’m sure you’re just confused.”
“You’re a fine one to talk about confusion,” Cecily retorted. “I remember like it was yesterday. Lady Mary had had the necklaces specially made, you see—before her death. And she made sure that each girl would receive a necklace with her favorite color. Blue for Katherine, red for Elizabeth. They wore their necklaces to their birthday party the very evening they received them, and I was there! Katherine in the blue necklace and Elizabeth in the red.”
Everything Cecily was saying sounded right—except, of course, the part about which necklace belonged to which girl. But other than that detail, it seemed that Cecily had remembered everything correctly.
Mother gave Aunt Beatrice a pointed look.
“Gabrielle,” Aunt Beatrice said. “Your great-grandmother is tired. Please take her to her room.”
“Just ring for Paulette,” replied Gabrielle. “She can take her.”
“You’ll do it now,” Aunt Beatrice said through gritted teeth.
With a heavy sigh, Gabrielle flounced off the divan. “Come, Great-Grandmother,” she said.
“I tell you, the necklace is wrong!” Cecily grumbled as Gabrielle led her from the room.
Mother patted my hand in a reassuring way. “You mustn’t give what Cecily said another thought, my darling,” she said. “She is very old, and senility gets the better of her sometimes.”