Beth's Story, 1914

by Adele Whitby

  I decided to eat my piece of cake on the balcony. It felt good to stand outside, where a gentle breeze cooled my cheeks. Overhead, the stars twinkled merrily, as if they, too, were celebrating. The night was rich with the sounds of summer: I heard the crickets singing, the tree frogs peeping, the purr of the motorcar’s engine.

  Wait. Why did James have the motorcar out? Was someone ill? No, if James had been to fetch the doctor, he would have brought him to the front of the house. Was there some sort of emergency? I glanced behind me. No, there stood Mr. Harrison, attending to all the business of the party. Then what was James doing, driving round to the servants’ entrance?

  Suddenly, I realized just what he must be doing. “Oh no,” I whispered in horror. “Shannon!”

  A wave of shame washed over me. Since the party had started, I hadn’t given Shannon a single thought. No, I’d danced and laughed and smiled and eaten cake, and forgotten all about the plight of my lady’s maid and friend. And now, at this very moment, James was preparing to take her to the train station—I just knew it!

  I strode through the ballroom as quickly as I could, trying to be gracious as one guest after another wished me a happy birthday. I could not appear as if anything was troubling me, but I also could not afford to waste time exchanging pleasantries. Time was of the essence, and I had to keep my promise to Shannon.

  “Oh, there you are, Cousin,” Gabrielle said. She raised her glass of cordial to me. “Lovely party, isn’t it? You certainly look to be enjoying yourself. Shall I send Helena for some blotting papers? Your face is terribly shiny.”

  “No, thank you,” I said shortly as I hurried away.

  When I reached the corridor, I broke into a run and didn’t stop until I had nearly flown to the courtyard—where I found James putting Shannon’s small valise into the motorcar.

  “James!” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “You—you promised!”

  His dark eyes were sorrowful. “ ’Tis Mr. Harrison’s orders, milady,” he said simply. “I’ve no choice.”

  I pounded on the motorcar’s sleek window. “Shannon!” I cried. “Come out!”

  She opened the door a crack. “I’m sorry that I didn’t have a chance to say good-bye,” she whispered hoarsely. “Mr. Harrison wanted me to leave during the party so that there wouldn’t be a fuss.”

  “But it’s not fair!” I cried. “It’s not right! I won’t let you go, Shannon! Not like this!”

  “You did everything you could—more than you had to, much, much more,” she replied. “Don’t let this ruin your party. Go upstairs, Lady Beth. Go back to the ballroom. Go back and enjoy your special night. Forget all about this.”

  “I won’t,” I said stubbornly, blinking back the hot tears that made Shannon’s face look blurry. “I won’t ever forget, and I won’t stop searching for the truth until I’ve cleared your name.”

  Then I turned to James. “You promised you’d help me,” I reminded him. “Please don’t take her to the train station! Please!”

  “I’m not taking her to the train station,” he told me. “At least, not tonight. Shannon will stay at the inn, and I’m to fetch her in the morning for the seven o’clock train. Now, I know what you’re going to say, Lady Beth,” he continued as I opened my mouth to protest. “But if I don’t do as Mr. Harrison says, he’ll release me from service.”

  “Shannon,” I begged, “please, please tell me your secret. It’s not too late! We can still fix this—you won’t have to leave—”

  Shannon’s eyes glistened in the moonlight. For a moment, she wavered; for a moment, I thought, Yes, yes, at last, Shannon will tell me everything—

  Then we heard Mrs. Morris’s voice. “Tell Mrs. Beaudin that we need more petits fours. And what is taking them so long in the scullery? We’ve nearly run out of glasses!”

  I could see the same fear on Shannon’s and James’s faces that I felt in my heart. If I were discovered outside with them instead of inside at my own party, they would both be in terrible trouble.

  “Beth, go!” Shannon implored me, forgetting my title. “You must sneak back inside. The passage—do you remember—”

  “I do,” I said in a rush. Then I ran from the car, back into the house, down the corridor, and ducked into the secret passageway that Shannon had showed me before. How dark it was! Without a candle, the cold, damp tunnel was as black as a tomb. This time, I would have to find my way by feel alone.

  I yanked off my glove so that I could again use the wall as a guide. The stones were rough against my fingers, and I shivered in my thin silk gown. Faster and faster I walked, stumbling over the uneven floor in my dainty slippers. At last, my fingers grazed against the wooden door frame, and I breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that I had found my way out.

  In the library, I held on to the back of a chair to steady myself, exhaling deeply in a long, jagged sigh. Through the window, I saw the motorcar disappear down the drive, carrying Shannon away from Chatswood Manor. In all the commotion, I hadn’t even been able to say a proper good-bye to her. A few tears slipped down my cheeks.

  “Beth!”

  I spun around to find Mother standing in the doorway.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she continued. “Why did you leave the party? How long have you been here? I searched the library not five minutes ago—oh, my darling, why are you crying?”

  “It’s all—it’s so—”

  “There, there, darling; Mummy knows,” my mother crooned as she brushed the tears from my cheeks. “It’s ever so overwhelming to be the center of attention like this. But you’ve handled yourself beautifully; in fact, your grandmother and I were just talking about what a brilliant success you’ll be at your coming out in a few years.

  “Come along now; it’s in poor taste to leave your own party, my dear,” Mother continued. “I am glad that Gabrielle told me you’d left. The poor girl; all the excitement must’ve gone to her head, for she told me that you’d gone downstairs to the servants’ quarters! Of course, I knew that such a thing could never be true.”

  Luckily, Mother had spun me around to fluff my curls, so she did not see the look of shock on my face. Had Gabrielle followed me? But why? And why on earth would she tattle to Mother?

  Unless she was trying to keep me from finding out the truth.

  “Yes, Mother, we must return at once,” I said.

  “Of course, dear girl. I’m sure you would hate to miss another moment of your party,” she said.

  I smiled and nodded, but the truth was, I was desperate for the party to end.

  For there was something far more important I needed to do.

  The last toast, the last waltz, the last embrace, the last good-bye.

  At last, my birthday party was over.

  Back in my room, Miss Dalton went quietly about her work, leaving me scrubbed, brushed, changed, and missing Shannon. Before she departed, Miss Dalton left the candle lit at my request; as soon as she was gone, I crawled into bed with Essie Bridges’s journal. I had the strangest feeling that there was something in it that would help me solve the mystery of the Trufant locket. I knew that that didn’t make much sense; after all, Essie had written those entries long ago. Perhaps I was drawn to the journal because there wasn’t anything else I could do to help Shannon. Or perhaps it was wishful thinking. Something told me this journal was my very last chance.

  And Shannon’s, too.

  Had quite a row with Fannie this morn. Yesterday I took Sparrow and Lark for a picnic to take their mind off their mother’s illness. We had a grand time, but by the time we got home, the girls were frightfully dirty. I whisked off their pinafores and stuffed them into the laundry chute, relieved that they would disappear into the darkness of the basement and reappear in the twins’ wardrobe once they were freshly cleaned.

  But oh, did I get an earful from Fannie today. She was none too pleased about the state of the twins’ garments—especially because they stained all the other clothes when they fell
into the basket below the chute. I have no interest in making an enemy of the housemaids, so I was quick to promise Fannie that I would be more careful in the future about sending filthy clothes down the laundry chute.

  I sat up in shock; Essie’s journal clattered to the floor.

  The laundry chute!

  How had I missed it before?

  A cloud of memories from the last few days swirled through my mind:

  “Before bed, you must prepare for my Lady Gabrielle fresh strawberries—”

  “Jennie took her down a peg. We’ll see how fancy she feels after spending every waking moment in the basement!”

  “There is an unfortunate stain on your nightgown that will require additional treatment.”

  “Someone has been throwing garbage down the laundry chutes!”

  It was a surprising theory—crazy, perhaps—and yet it seemed clear to me that it was the only possibility.

  “Oh, Shannon,” I whispered in the darkness. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Before dawn, I wrapped my velvet dressing gown around me and snuck through the house. Downstairs, all the lights were shining, and though it was still dark outside, there was a great deal of bustling in the kitchen. I slipped outside, unseen, and leaned against the motorcar. I didn’t have long to wait.

  James was so startled to see me that he dropped his cap. “Lady Beth!” he exclaimed.

  “Shh!” I said with a finger to my lips.

  He realized that I was in a dressing gown and immediately averted his eyes. “Please, you’ve got to go inside,” he begged. “It’s not proper for you to be out here—”

  “I’ll go,” I told him. “But you must not take Shannon to the train station, James. Bring her here instead.”

  “You know I can’t do that, milady.”

  “I know that you promised to help me. I’m asking you to keep your promise.”

  There was a long silence. The sun had begun to rise; the faintest pink streaks glowed on the horizon.

  “What do you plan to do?” James finally asked.

  “Just bring Shannon to Chatswood,” I replied. “Tell her to wait for me in the passage. She’ll know what that means.”

  James sighed deeply. But all he said was, “Lady Beth, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  So do I, I thought.

  I returned to my room and forced myself to stay in bed until Miss Dalton came to dress me, though every inch of me was jittery with apprehension. When it was time for breakfast, I didn’t go straight to the dining room. Instead, I made a detour to the library.

  I pulled gently on the panel between the bookcases, revealing the gaping blackness of the passage. “Shannon?” I called as loudly as I dared. “Can you hear me?”

  She appeared in a few moments, wide-eyed and white as the bed linens. “Oh, Lady Beth, what’ve you done?” she whispered. “This is wrong, all wrong; I shouldn’t be here—”

  “Yes, you should,” I said firmly as I took her hand. “Shannon, do you trust me?”

  There was a pause before she answered. “Yes, Lady Beth. I do.”

  “Then don’t be afraid.”

  Shannon seemed to be reassured by the confidence in my voice. Thankfully, there was no way for her to know how wildly my heart was pounding. I tried to steady my nerves as I led her to the dining room. It was too late to turn back now.

  My head was high as I marched into the dining room with Shannon by my side. Everyone was already at the table: Father and Uncle Claude, Grandmother, Cecily, Gabrielle. The footmen were serving while Mr. Harrison stood against the wall, watching their every move.

  All eyes turned to me as a stunned silence filled the room.

  Mr. Harrison spoke first. “Shannon Kelley, go downstairs,” he ordered in a voice so low that it gave me chills.

  Shannon turned to leave, but I held her arm. “No, Mr. Harrison,” I said firmly. “She’ll stay.”

  “I say, Beth,” Father spoke up. “This is an outrage, really, it is. You’ll go to your room at once, and not another word from you.”

  “No, Father,” I said, my voice steady though my hands were trembling. “There is something I must say.”

  “Harrison, do something about that maid,” Father barked. “Beth, I order you to go to your room.”

  I pulled myself up to my full height. “Not until you’ve heard what I have to say.”

  “You’ll sorely regret your actions today, my girl,” Father replied. “Someone fetch her mother.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Mother should be here and Aunt Beatrice, too. Oh, and Helena, of course.”

  The tension in the room was unbearable while we waited for Mother and Aunt Beatrice. Uncle Claude and Grandmother were clearly baffled by my behavior. Cousin Gabrielle succumbed to a nervous fidget, knotting her napkin and drumming her fingers on the table until Uncle Claude told her to stop. Only Cecily seemed to be enjoying herself as she ate scone after scone with a big, toothy grin on her face.

  Then Mother and Aunt Beatrice whisked into the dining room in a cloud of ribbons and Parisian perfume. Helena followed them and stood behind Gabrielle’s chair.

  “Beth, this behavior is so unbecoming,” Mother said. “I’m terribly disappointed in you.”

  “I hope that what I have to say will change your opinion,” I told her. Then, with all eyes on me for the second time in twelve hours, I began.

  “This is my lady’s maid, Shannon Kelley,” I said. “You all know that she was accused of stealing the Trufant locket because it was found in a laundry basket in her room. This, despite the fact that Shannon has been a faithful and trustworthy employee at Chatswood for two years.”

  Uncle Claude threw down his napkin. “Edwin, I thought this matter had been settled,” he said to Father. “Why are we still discussing it?”

  “Well, Beth?” Father directed the question to me.

  “Because Shannon has been framed, and I’m prepared to prove her innocence!” I announced.

  Cousin Gabrielle leaped to her feet. “I will not stay in the same room as a thief!” she cried dramatically.

  “Oh, sit down, would you?” Cecily said. “I want to hear what the girl’s got to say.”

  I shot my great-grandmother a grateful smile and continued. “When Gabrielle and I walked in the rose garden, she disparaged the Trufant locket,” I began. “She wanted something more valuable, something covered with jewels. Something like the Elizabeth necklace.”

  “Is this true, Gabrielle?” Uncle Claude said, unable to keep the shock—and sadness—from his voice. “My own mother—your grandmother—wore that locket every day of her life, as did her mother before her, and her mother before her. You should be grateful to own jewelry that has belonged to so many great ladies!”

  “Papa, it is a terrible lie!” cried Gabrielle—quite unconvincingly.

  “I have no reason to lie,” I defended myself. “But please, let me continue. The next day, after I received the Elizabeth necklace, the Trufant locket disappeared. And when Uncle Claude promised Gabrielle a replacement if it wasn’t found, she immediately asked for something with lots of jewels.

  “But the Trufant locket was found,” I continued. “In a laundry basket in Shannon’s room. I don’t think it had been stolen, though. I think it was thrown down a laundry chute and it landed in the basket.”

  Mother looked confused. “Beth, what is a laundry chute?” she asked.

  “It’s a tunnel in the wall,” I explained. “The lady’s maids throw our laundry down them so that it arrives in the basement without being carried through the corridors.”

  “How terribly clever,” Mother mused.

  “Helena,” I said suddenly. She looked up with her lips tightly pursed. “Have you not been throwing Lady Gabrielle’s garbage in the laundry chutes—those little doors in the walls?”

  Helena’s eyes darted from side to side. “I did not know!” she exclaimed. “In France we use the chutes for garbage, not the laundry!”

  “And did L
ady Gabrielle tell you to discard the Trufant locket?” I asked as gently as I could.

  “Helena, shut up!” Gabrielle shrieked. “Not another word!”

  But instead of listening to Gabrielle, Helena burst into tears. “It was an order,” she sobbed. “What was I to do? I always follow my lady’s orders!”

  “Gabrielle!” Aunt Beatrice exclaimed. “How could you?”

  Beside me, I felt Shannon’s shoulders relax a bit, but I did not look at her. Not yet.

  “So now we know how the locket came to be in the laundry basket,” I said. “But that still leaves one more mystery to be solved: Why was Shannon in possession of a laundry basket? After all, that is a task for a housemaid—not a lady’s maid.”

  I turned to Shannon and took her hands in mine. “Shannon, have the housemaids been punishing you for your promotion to lady’s maid?” I asked her. “Have they forced you to do the laundry in addition to your other duties?”

  “Yes, Lady Beth,” Shannon replied, her voice a whisper. Then she cleared her throat and spoke again. “Yes, they have.”

  “Miss Kelley!” Mr. Harrison spoke up. “I don’t need to tell you how unacceptable that is. Mrs. Morris will be outraged to hear it. Why did you stay silent?”

  “I didn’t want to make it worse,” Shannon explained. “And I didn’t want them to lose their positions for it.”

  Mr. Harrison turned to Father. “Lord Etheridge,” he said, “given these developments, I find it appropriate to reinstate Miss Kelley immediately—if she’ll accept the position of lady’s maid once more.”

  “Oh, would I!” Shannon exclaimed. Then she caught herself and lowered her head. “I would be honored to accept. Thank you, Mr. Harrison.”

  “You have brought a great shame to the Trufant name, daughter,” Uncle Claude said sternly to Gabrielle.

  “No, I haven’t!” Gabrielle said wildly. She pointed at Helena. “She did it! She took my locket and threw it away! It was her fault!”