by Adele Whitby
“Like what?” I asked, horrified.
“I’m afraid I’m not entirely clear on the details,” Mum said. “Aunt Kate was so upset that it wasn’t the right time for me to ask questions.”
“But couldn’t Uncle Joseph get a loan from the bank?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, that’s no longer an option,” Mum said. “Many banks were the first to succumb to the ravages of the Depression. And the banks that have managed to survive are now hoarding their cash and refusing to loan it. It is quite impossible for almost anyone in America, even someone as successful as your uncle, to obtain a loan right now.”
“I—I—I don’t understand how this happened!” I cried. “It’s all so—so—so sudden.”
“It only seems that way, Betsy,” Mum explained sadly. “But this terrible outcome was years in the making, ever since Uncle Alfie took over Vandermeer Steel. I know that Uncle Joseph is doing his best to make things right. He has tried . . . everything . . . he could think of to save Vandermeer Steel from its creditors, even mortgaging Vandermeer Manor.”
I stood a little straighter. “Mortgaging Vandermeer Manor? But that’s their home! Where will they go?”
“They’ve already moved into one of the guest cottages,” Mum said quietly. “They had no choice. Apparently, the entire staff was let go last week. Aunt Kate is preparing for the possibility that they will lose Vandermeer Manor in its entirety.”
“But where will they live?”
“They still have the town house in New York,” Mum told me. “And if they can sell that, they should have the funds they need to rent a small apartment.”
Poor Kay, I thought again. She must’ve felt like her entire world was slipping away from her. “Mum, would you ring them back?” I asked urgently. “Please, I want to speak with Kay.”
“I would if I could, Betsy,” Mum said. “But they’ve disconnected their telephone to save on expenses. That’s one of the reasons why Aunt Kate called. In fact, our call was dropped before Kate and I could even say good-bye.”
And then my strong mother’s voice faltered, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Mum!”
She sniffed quickly and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Forgive me, Betsy. It was a—it was a very difficult phone call. But we mustn’t forget that Aunt Kate is as brave as her great-grandmother Katherine, who had the strength to forge a new life in America. And I’ve no doubt that Kay is just as strong. No matter what comes to pass, they will find a way to endure—and overcome.”
“I wish I could talk to Kay,” I said. “I wish I could tell her how sorry I am that this has happened.”
“You could write to her,” Mum suggested. “Aunt Kate promised she’d send a telegram with their new address as soon as the fate of Vandermeer Manor is settled.”
I nodded. “I’ll write a letter right now and post it as soon as the telegram arrives.” Suddenly, an idea occurred to me. “Mum! Couldn’t we send them some money?”
Mum sighed. “I’ve offered, Betsy. Of course I’ve offered,” she replied. “But Aunt Kate always refused. She didn’t know how dire it was. The accounts of a large estate can be very complicated to follow, and as we know now, Uncle Joseph was . . .”
“What?” I asked. “Uncle Joseph was what?”
Mum shook her head, and I had the feeling she’d changed her mind about telling me something. “I—I believe that he was trying to shield Aunt Kate from the harsh realities in hopes that he could protect her.”
“Well, that was very foolish of him,” I said hotly.
“It’s not our place to judge,” Mum said gently. “Misfortune can strike when one least expects it, Betsy. It’s not for us to say what could have been done or should have been done.”
There was a heaviness in her voice that caught my attention, and when I looked at Mum, I saw that her forehead was creased into deep furrows. A terrible feeling of dread began to gnaw at me.
“Mum?” I asked slowly. “Are . . . we . . . ? Are our finances . . . sound?”
For a moment, Mum stared past me, as if she hadn’t heard the question. Then she shook herself slightly and reached for my hand. “Betsy, you mustn’t worry about such things,” she told me. “Our fortune is fully intact, and Chatswood Manor is in no trouble at all.”
“Are you certain?”
“Really, my dear, you must take me at my word,” she said, and her voice sounded more sure this time. “I’ll be honest that many great estates have been struggling under the current financial climate, but Chatswood is not one of them.”
I stared at Mum, but she didn’t meet my eye. Instead, she reached down and picked an imaginary speck of dust off my dress. Something was wrong . . . but what?
“Mum?” I asked. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
I held my breath, waiting, until she finally spoke. “Yes, Betsy, there is,” Mum said at last. “But you’ve got to trust me that it’s for the best that I don’t tell you right now.”
“Please tell me now!”
“Betsy, have faith. It’s a complicated situation, but I’m going to handle it. To discuss it with you now would only make you worry for no reason, and I won’t have that.”
“If you can’t tell me what it is, can you at least tell me the secret?”
“The secret? What secret?” Mum said, confused.
“The one you and Aunt Kate were going to tell Kay and me,” I reminded her. “The important family secret we had to wait to find out.”
A look of understanding crossed Mum’s face. “Oh. You know, Betsy, Kate and I didn’t even have a chance to discuss it,” she said. “And I can’t imagine telling you without her and Kay present. I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait until Kate and I speak again.”
Mum reached forward to stroke my cheek. “I must excuse myself now; I’m sure you remember that the advisers are coming for their seasonal inspection today, and I’d like to review the accounts before they arrive. Betsy, do enjoy the rest of your fitting. I’m sorry to mar it with such unpleasant news, but I have the utmost faith that Kay and her parents will overcome this trying period. And we’ll offer whatever help they’ll accept.”
“Yes, Mum,” I said.
But as soon as she was gone, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My beautiful ball gown seemed altogether changed. Whenever I moved, the shimmery fabric twinkled as if it were showing off, a horribly gaudy display that made me feel ashamed. And look at what had captured my attention all morning: satin ribbon or velvet, purple beads or gold. What right do I have to wear a dress like this? I wondered. What right do I have to dance at my birthday ball when Cousin Kay doesn’t even know where she’ll be living in a month?
It was utterly insensitive. No, it was worse. It was selfish.
“Madame Lorraine,” I said. “I’m afraid that I’ve got a headache. I’m terribly sorry to trouble you, but might we continue tomorrow?”
“Oui, of course, Lady Betsy,” she said at once. “I hope some rest will restore you. A fitting is a very trying endeavor.”
Not as trying as having your family fall into despair, I thought, with Cousin Kay still very much on my mind. Not as trying as losing your family home.
It took several minutes for Madame Lorraine and Maggie to free me from the gown and all the pins that held the ribbon embellishments in place. I stared at my reflection the entire time, torn between my love for the dress and my sudden shame of having something so beautiful—and so expensive—when there were people in the world struggling to survive.
Including, perhaps, my dear cousin.
It’s not fair, a small voice inside me said. It’s not fair, and you know it. Why should you have a fine gown—and not Kay? Why should you have a birthday ball—and not Kay? The ball has been a family tradition for generations. It’s not right for the Elizabeth heir to enjoy it, while the Katherine heir goes without.
And suddenly the solution presented itself to me, as clearly as a sunburst shining through a cloud-co
vered sky.
My ball will be canceled, too, I vowed. If the Katherine heir can’t have a ball, then the Elizabeth heir won’t have one either.
As soon as the thought hit me, I started to feel better. Canceling my birthday ball wasn’t much—it wouldn’t save Vandermeer Steel or keep Kay and her family in their home—but it was something that I could do to acknowledge that I would always stand by my beloved cousin.
As soon as Madame Lorraine left, Maggie turned down the covers. “Here, milady. I’ve a fresh nightdress for you,” she began.
“Nightdress? Oh, no, Maggie. I don’t want to go to bed. I’m not that bad off, but listen. I’ve had an idea. . . .”
She looked at me with wide gray eyes and waited for me to continue.
“I’m going to cancel my birthday ball!” I announced.
Maggie gasped in surprise. “Oh, Lady Betsy! Why would you do such a thing?”
A frown flickered across my face at her response. I’d thought Maggie would understand and tell me it was a wonderful idea, but if anything, she seemed upset. Perhaps I just needed to explain my reasoning to her.
“Well, it’s not right. Don’t you see?” I continued. “Why should I get to have a ball when Kay doesn’t? It isn’t fair. Don’t you agree?”
Maggie looked troubled. “It’s not my place to have an opinion, milady,” she replied hesitantly.
“But I have asked you for your opinion!” I reminded her. “Please, tell me what you think!”
“It just seems to me that a birthday ball would be a wonderful thing,” Maggie said, a faraway look on her face. “A dream come true, even. Most girls can only dream of something so special. And it makes me sad that you should miss it. You’ve had a shock, milady—such dreadful news about your cousin. Perhaps . . . if I might be so bold . . . you might not want to be so hasty in your decision. Perhaps you’ll reconsider after you’ve had some time to come to terms with what has happened to your poor cousin and her family.”
“I won’t reconsider,” I said, realizing it was foolish to think that Maggie would understand.
“I’m sure you know best, milady,” she replied hesitantly. She looked concerned, as if she sensed my disappointment.
“I’d like to wear my pink dress again,” I said, changing the subject. And we didn’t say one more word about my ball while Maggie helped me get dressed. After I was ready, Maggie excused herself to see to some mending, leaving me alone with my thoughts. It still seemed like the right decision to cancel the ball, but Maggie’s objections had planted a seed of doubt in my mind. Was I being too hasty in my decision? I knew there was someone whose advice I could completely trust: our new chef, Juliette. So I set off for the kitchen.
Juliette had joined the staff at Chatswood Manor only six months ago, but I could hardly remember what life had been like without her. She was from France and so fun and sophisticated; she had traveled halfway around the world as the personal chef for the Countess of Dumoyne. It seemed to me that life in the country would be frightfully dull for Juliette after all her adventures, but she promised me that she loved it here. I hoped she would never leave!
“Bonjour, ma petite ange!” Juliette sang out as I entered the kitchen.
“Bonjour, Juliette!” I replied. My French accent had improved by leaps and bounds since Juliette and I had started having our little chats.
“Sit, sit,” Juliette ordered, pointing at the tiny table and two chairs beneath the window, where we passed many hours telling stories. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Some tea, I think, and some cakes—as long as you promise not to tell your dear maman. She would be very cross with me if I spoiled your appetite for dinner!”
I grinned. “The secret’s safe with me,” I promised. “But you must be so busy with your preparations for tonight, Juliette. I should hate to get in the way.”
“Nonsense!” Juliette declared. “This is the calm before the storm. The roast is in the oven, the soup is simmering, the cakes are cooling—there is nothing more to do until the dinner hour draws closer. I’d love some company to pass the time. Now, sit, and tell me all about the fitting. Did you choose a trim for your gown? Tell me everything!”
Remembering the fitting—and the dreadful news that had interrupted it—wiped the smile from my face. Juliette could tell at once that something was wrong. “Dear me,” she said. “What has happened? Is there a problem with your gown? Are you unhappy with Madame Lorraine’s work?”
I shook my head. “Oh, no, Juliette. It’s ever so much worse than that,” I replied glumly. Then I told her about the terrible plight that had befallen my American relations.
Juliette sucked in her breath sharply and reached across the table. “I am so very sorry to hear this, Lady Betsy,” she said gravely as she patted my hand. “It has come as a terrible shock, I’m sure. I can see how heavily it weighs upon you.”
“It’s so wrong,” I tried to explain. “My cousin Kay is the kindest, sweetest girl I know. And now her whole life is turned upside down. I feel so helpless, and I want to do something to help. I know this sounds rather impulsive, but I think I have made a decision. I’m just not sure whether it’s a wise decision or not.”
“Go on. Go on,” Juliette said encouragingly. “Tell me what you are thinking.”
“I want to cancel my ball,” I finally said. “It seems unfair to spend so much time and money on a lavish party while Kay and her parents are on the verge of losing everything—their business, their fortune, their home.”
For a moment, Juliette stared at me without speaking. Oh, no, I thought. It really is a terrible idea. She’s going to say the same thing as Maggie. Doesn’t anybody see it my way?
Then, to my surprise, Juliette leaned across the table and kissed me quickly on each cheek.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Betsy,” she said at once. “I am so moved by your good and generous heart—my emotions have gotten the better of me.”
A faint blush crept into my cheeks, but if Juliette noticed, she didn’t let on.
“So many gestures are, at their core, empty,” she continued, waving her hand in the air. “But this, Lady Betsy, this is not just grand, but also noble.”
“Maggie thought I was being too hasty. She said it made her sad to think of me canceling my ball.”
Juliette sniffed contemptuously. “Maggie! What does she know? I have heard that . . . well, never mind.”
“What have you heard?” I asked.
“I shouldn’t tell you this, Lady Betsy, but the housemaids think her a fool and utterly unsuited for the role,” Juliette confided in a loud whisper. “Oh, I felt so bad for you when I heard them say it! You deserve the best lady’s maid in the world, not some nincompoop who should be milking cows in a barn.”
“She’s not that bad—” I started to say. But Juliette kept speaking very fast.
“Have you spoken to your mother about canceling the ball?”
“Not yet,” I replied. “She’s been poring over her ledgers since the phone call with Aunt Kate. There was something else from the phone call that she wouldn’t tell me.”
“Really?” Juliette asked, sitting a little straighter. “What could that be?”
“I have no idea. But she wouldn’t say a word.”
“This is so strange to me,” Juliette said, shaking her head. “In my family, we keep no secrets. Even the bad things, we tell one another.”
“You think it’s something bad?” I asked anxiously. How could it be any worse than what Mum had already confided?
Juliette opened her mouth to speak, then closed it as if she had changed her mind. “It would not be my place to say, Lady Betsy,” she finally replied. “But I do think that you should speak to your mother at once about canceling the ball.”
“Right now?” I said. “But the advisers—”
“Are not due until three o’clock. So I believe you will have just enough time to make your case.”
“All right,” I said.
“And you must tell me right aw
ay what she says,” Juliette said as she began to clear the table. “Do you promise to tell me everything?”
“Of course,” I said. “Wish me luck!”
“Bonne chance!” Juliette replied, her eyes twinkling. “Not that you’ll need it!”
I hurried upstairs to the library, where I guessed Mum would still be reviewing the accounts. I was right; I found her sitting at the desk, poring over a thick ledger.
“Mum?” I said.
She looked up and smiled at me before gazing back at the accounts laid out before her. “Hello, Betsy. All done with your fitting?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Well, actually, no, I suppose. I—I didn’t feel up to it. Not after . . .”
Mum nodded sympathetically. “I understand, my dear. I know that after I got off the phone with Kate, I was certainly too preoccupied to pay much attention to anything. Now, did you tell Madame Lorraine when to return? I know it seems like a month is a very long time, but for the amount of work she has to do to finish your gown, there really is no time to spare.”
“That’s the thing,” I began. Then I took a deep breath and searched for the right words before I continued. Mum could tell that I had something important to say; she closed her ledger, pushed it across her desk, and gave me her full attention.
“I think we should cancel my birthday ball,” I said.
Mum’s face stayed blank; I couldn’t begin to guess what she thought. “Go on.”
One by one, I told Mum all my reasons.
“You make some very good points,” she said slowly. Her index finger tapped the sapphires of the Elizabeth necklace, like she always did when she was deep in thought. “But, Betsy, you’ve been dreaming of your twelfth birthday ball for your whole life. I remember all too well what that was like; it’s not so very long ago that I was twelve myself, you know. At least, it doesn’t feel so long ago.
“I can appreciate your thinking, Betsy, and it is very admirable for you to want to do something so selfless. But you must consider this choice very carefully. This would be the very first time in the history of the Chatswood family without a grand ball to celebrate a girl’s twelfth birthday. I don’t want you to make your decision in haste and regret it later.”