Betsy’s Story, 1934

by Adele Whitby

  “She did not!” I gasped in shock.

  “And that I’d best remember my place, or I’d find there was no place for me at Chatswood after all.”

  “She can’t do that,” I said hotly. “Gabrielle is a guest here. She is not in charge of Chatswood Manor.”

  “Yes, but she has your mother’s ear,” Juliette said sorrowfully. “I heard that they were laughing together like schoolgirls during their fitting with Madame Lorraine.”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it when I realized I had nothing to say. It was true that Mum and Gabrielle seemed much chummier than I had expected. But surely Mum would never dismiss Juliette just because Gabrielle told her to!

  Or would she?

  “Lady Betsy, I’ve no right to ask, I know,” Juliette continued shyly. “But . . . will you help me? I’ve got to stay out of Lady Gabrielle’s way if I’m to keep my position here. And I would hate to leave Chatswood Manor, especially in disgrace if I were sacked.”

  “You have my word,” I promised. “Whatever I can do to help, I will.”

  “Thank you so much,” Juliette replied. “With someone like Lady Gabrielle, I think that ‘out of sight, out of mind’ is the only way to survive.”

  “Well, I doubt she’s the type to come down to the kitchen,” I said. “She’ll probably just send messages through her lady’s maid. So as long as you stay here—”

  “Lady Betsy.”

  I glanced behind me to see my own lady’s maid. “Maggie! What are you doing here?”

  “Lady Beth sent me with a request for tea for herself and Lady Gabrielle,” Maggie said. Her eyes didn’t leave Juliette.

  “Of course,” Juliette said with a curt nod. “Eloise, a tea service for two. At once.”

  “Lady Betsy, I suppose you’d best come with me,” Maggie said.

  “Why?” I protested. “It’s not nearly time to dress for dinner.”

  “I’m in need of your assistance,” Maggie pressed. “The charity drive is coming up, and your mother has requested that you donate any gowns and accessories that you no longer want.”

  “But does it have to be done right now?” I argued.

  “I’ll need to launder everything before I pack it,” Maggie said in a small but firm voice.

  Realizing that she wasn’t going to budge, I sighed heavily and rose from my chair. “I’ll see you later, Juliette.”

  “Whenever you want, milady,” she replied. “I am always at your service.”

  Maggie and I didn’t speak as we walked toward the room. Why can’t I have a lady’s maid more like Nellie? I wondered. Or Juliette!

  Just about anyone would be better than Maggie.

  After finishing with Maggie as quickly as I could, I went to look for Mum. I found her in the drawing room about to sit down to tea with Gabrielle. Their fitting with Madame Lorraine must’ve been great fun, because they were still in high spirits when I joined them.

  “Betsy! Come sit,” Mum called when she saw me hovering in the doorway.

  I was barely seated before a footman had quickly added another place setting to the table. William wheeled in the tea cart, which was laden with platters of dainty sandwiches, iced cakes, and delicate biscuits.

  “Cousin Gabrielle’s had an idea,” Mum said. “Go ahead, Gabrielle. Tell her.”

  “Your mother tells me that neither of you know the American dances,” Gabrielle announced. “Disgraceful! No wonder you canceled your ball. After dinner, I will teach you the jitterbug, the fox-trot, the Lindy hop, everything!”

  “But my radio program is on tonight,” I reminded Mum. “I don’t want to miss it.”

  She frowned slightly. “You can catch it next week. I think dancing lessons from Gabrielle will be fun.”

  “And tomorrow Bernadette will cut your hair,” Gabrielle told me. “I think a bob would be darling on you, just darling! You will look just like me!”

  I looked at Mum in alarm. I loved my long hair! But before I could protest, Mr. Embry entered the drawing room. His face was as red as a bowl of beets.

  “Lady Beth,” he said in a low voice. “If I might have a word.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Embry,” Mum replied as she stirred her tea. “Go ahead.”

  “In private, if it please milady.”

  Mum glanced up at him. “We’re all family here,” she said. “Whatever you have to say is fine to say in front of Betsy and Gabrielle.”

  “It’s the butcher . . . ,” Mr. Embry said.

  “What about him?” Mum asked.

  “He’s—he’s here,” Mr. Embry choked out. “Demanding payment. He says the bill is—is six weeks past due—”

  “Six weeks past due?” Mum echoed, but she sounded more amused than upset. “Dear me. No wonder he came to collect! There must be some mistake, Mr. Embry. I always pay the bills on time. If Mr. Crewe did not receive payment, perhaps he forgot to send the bill.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, remembering what Juliette had told me about the overdue grocer’s bill. It was possible that the butcher had forgotten to send Mum the bill . . . but not the grocer, too.

  “Please excuse me,” Mum said to Gabrielle and me as she stood up. “I’ll write a check to Mr. Crewe right now and return for our tea in a few moments. Mr. Embry, I trust that he presented the bill to you when he arrived?”

  “He did, milady,” Mr. Embry said.

  “Very good. Bring it to the library and we’ll settle this matter without delay.”

  Mum and Mr. Embry left the parlor, leaving me alone with Gabrielle.

  “Excuse me,” I said, rising abruptly from the table and scurrying after them. I wanted to escape before Gabrielle made more plans for my hair!

  In the library, I found Mum poring over her ledger book, with Mr. Embry standing attentively by her side.

  “You see?” Mum said, running her finger down a long column of figures. “We did not receive a bill from the butcher in March or April. The oversight was on his part, not ours. And . . .” Mum’s voice trailed off as she turned the page. “I don’t see bills from the grocer or the milliner, either.”

  “I beg to differ, milady,” Mr. Embry said. “I personally delivered those bills to you a few days ago.”

  “But, Mr. Embry, I sat down to settle all the accounts just this morning,” Mum said with a frown. “The bill folder was empty. If I’d received those bills, I would have paid them. Where did you put them?”

  “In the bill folder, as always,” replied Mr. Embry.

  Mum reached over the ledger. “I’ll show you myself, then,” she said as she opened the folder. “See? It’s empty, just like—”

  But the folder wasn’t empty. Five, six, seven papers—perhaps more—fluttered to the floor. Even from the doorway, I could see that some had the words PAST DUE stamped on them in red ink.

  “This—this can’t be,” Mum said, her voice shaky, her face pale as moonlight. “I checked the folder this morning. It was empty—”

  “Milady, I give you my word that I placed these bills in the folder days ago,” Mr. Embry told her.

  “Come away, Betsy,” said a low voice in my ear.

  It was Gabrielle. I had no idea how long she’d been standing behind me, or how much she had heard. Enough, I supposed, as I stepped into the hall with her. Enough to know that Mum had failed to pay not just one or two bills, but a whole stack of them.

  Enough to know that something at Chatswood Manor was very, very wrong.

  A few days later, Madame Lorraine arrived after breakfast for an important fitting for Gabrielle’s gown. I breathed a sigh of relief as they disappeared into Gabrielle’s room, shutting the door behind them; it would be wonderful to spend the next several hours away from Gabrielle’s bossy orders.

  Maybe Mum and I can finally take our walk through the garden, I thought on my way to the library to see if Mum was free. Or maybe we can even walk to town together! A morning spent in town, nibbling sticky buns from the bakery and trying on hats at the millinery shop, was
one of our favorite pastimes. Maybe, if we had some time away from Gabrielle and the duties of Chatswood Manor, Mum could tell me her secret.

  And maybe I could finally ask her to tell me the truth about Chatswood Manor’s finances.

  But when I reached the library, Mum wasn’t alone. Maggie was standing beside her desk, wearing a somber expression; Mum’s back was turned to me, so I couldn’t see if she was upset, but her voice sounded very serious indeed. “Thank you for telling me, Maggie,” Mum was saying. “And if you should notice—”

  It was rude to interrupt, but I didn’t want them to think I was eavesdropping again! So I knocked on the door with three quick raps.

  “Betsy,” Mum said warmly as she turned in her chair. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside for just a moment while I finish speaking with Maggie—”

  Outside? I thought in surprise. Are they talking about me? Have I done something wrong and Maggie’s telling Mum all about it?

  Then I remembered how cross I’d been with Maggie when she interrupted my chat with Juliette. My cheeks started to burn.

  “No, milady. I’m quite finished,” Maggie said. I noticed that she scarcely looked in my direction, which made me feel even worse. “Thank you for your time.”

  As soon as we were alone, I braced myself for a lecture from Mum. Instead, though, she smiled at me and said, “How are you, Betsy?”

  “I’m fine, Mum,” I replied. “What were you and Maggie discussing?”

  Mum’s smile faded. “I’m afraid that’s got to stay between Maggie and me.”

  “Another secret?” I cried. “One more thing that I’m not allowed to know?”

  “Please calm yourself, Betsy,” Mum began.

  “Ahem.” Mr. Embry cleared his throat discreetly as he stepped into the library. “Pardon the intrusion, Lady Beth, but a telegram from America has just arrived. Per your instructions, I have brought it directly to you.”

  “At last!” Mum exclaimed as Mr. Embry gave her the telegram. She was beaming as she ripped open the envelope . . . but in a matter of moments, her face filled with despair.

  “No!” Mum cried, crumpling the telegram into a ball. “How could this have happened?”

  “What?” I asked. “What happened, Mum?”

  “I am sorry, Betsy, but I cannot discuss this with you,” Mum said shortly. She turned to Mr. Embry. “Have there been other telegrams from America?” she demanded.

  “Yes, milady, at least three,” Mr. Embry said, surprised. “I have personally delivered them to your desk.”

  “I didn’t receive any of them,” Mum said.

  “But I placed them on—”

  Wham!

  I jumped as Mum pounded her fist on the desk—and so did Mr. Embry.

  “This is unacceptable!” she exclaimed. “How am I to move mountains overseas if I cannot trust my own staff to deliver my bills and telegrams?”

  Mr. Embry pulled himself up to his full height.

  “Milady, I assure you—”

  Mum interrupted him. “I am not in need of assurances. I am in need of timely delivery of important papers that require my attention at once. From now on, Mr. Embry, you are to bring any papers that arrive to me directly and immediately, no matter what else is occupying me when they arrive.”

  “As you wish, milady,” Mr. Embry said stiffly. “If there’s nothing else you need from me—”

  “No, nothing,” Mum replied curtly. “You are dismissed.”

  Mr. Embry bowed low and left the room without another word.

  Mum turned away from me and leaned against the desk with her head bowed.

  “Mum, please,” I begged. “What’s happened? Please, Mum, you’ve got to tell me. Is it Kay—or Aunt Kate—”

  “They’re fine, to the best of my knowledge,” Mum replied without turning around. “More than that I cannot say.”

  “But why? Why won’t you tell me? You can trust me, Mum. I promise I won’t—”

  “I heard the shouting,” Gabrielle said breathlessly as she rushed into the room, pushing past me on her way to Mum. “What happened, Beth?”

  At last Mum turned around, her eyes wet with tears. “Oh, Gabrielle,” she began. “I’m too late to—”

  Then Mum looked at me sorrowfully. She crossed the room and gave me a hug. “I am sorry, Betsy,” she said. “But I must ask you to leave us.”

  She’s going to tell Gabrielle, I realized. But she won’t tell me.

  There was nothing for me to do but turn around and leave the room. I’d barely crossed the threshold when Mum closed the door behind me with a soft click.

  I stood alone in the hall for a moment, too shocked to move. Whatever secret Mum had been keeping was so big and so bad that she couldn’t talk to me—to me, her only daughter!—but she would freely share it with Gabrielle. The very thought made me want to cry.

  Better move along, I told myself. I mustn’t let Maggie catch me out here. She’ll surely tell Mum that I’ve been eavesdropping again.

  With nowhere else to go, and nothing to do, I returned to my room. Should I unburden myself in a letter to Kay? I still needed to finish my letter to her. But what could I possibly write? Kay, something terrible is happening, and Mum won’t tell me a word about it, but the telegram she just received from America brought her to tears. Do you know what’s going on?

  How could I add these worries to my cousin’s own burdens?

  But what if Kay already knew Mum’s secret? It had all started with that phone call from Aunt Kate. . . . If Kay knew, and I could ask her . . .

  But I can’t ask her, I thought. I don’t even know where she lives.

  It was hopeless.

  I glanced out my window at the pale pink blossoms on the cherry trees, fluttering in the warm spring breeze. It would’ve been such a lovely day to walk to town with Mum. . . .

  Then something out the window caught my eye.

  It was Mum and Gabrielle, wearing their smart spring coats, walking briskly along the drive.

  Walking toward town.

  My chest was so tight that I felt like I could hardly breathe. Mum’s off to town with Gabrielle, I thought numbly. It never even occurred to her that I might want to go, too. She didn’t even bother to tell me that she was leaving.

  As I watched Mum walk away, I felt as though we’d never be able to close the distance growing between us. Tears pricked at my eyes as I thought about how much things had changed between Mum and me ever since Aunt Kate’s phone call—and all for the worse. It’s like Mum doesn’t trust me anymore, I thought, wiping the back of my hand across my eyes. It’s like she doesn’t even love me.

  There was only one person in Chatswood Manor who could make me feel better, I realized. I could already picture it; Juliette would see how upset I was and tell Eloise to take over for a bit, and then we’d sit somewhere quiet—the pantry, perhaps—and she’d listen to the whole story. And maybe with a friend like Juliette on my side, I’d start to feel better about everything.

  I set off for the kitchen at once, but on the way there, something curious happened. I noticed Juliette slipping out of the library.

  That’s odd, I thought, puzzled. I’d just seen Mum walking toward town, so there was no way that she’d rung for Juliette.

  “Juliette!” I called.

  She continued on to the kitchen as if she hadn’t heard me.

  “Juliette!” I said, louder this time.

  At last, Juliette stopped. “Lady Betsy,” she said. “Can I help you?”

  “I was just on my way to see you,” I told her. “What were you doing in the library?”

  Juliette pursed her lips. “I had hoped to see your mother,” she explained in a low voice.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Well . . . you see, Lady Betsy . . . it’s about your birthday dinner.”

  “What about it?”

  Juliette sighed. “Bernadette brought me a list of dishes that Lady Gabrielle wants served,” she continued. “Veal scalopp
ine. Truffle omelet. And blini with caviar imported all the way from Russia! These special ingredients are very expensive, you see, so I thought I’d best make sure that Lady Beth would be willing to purchase them.”

  A hot wave of anger surged through me. Gabrielle knew that the estate was struggling—she was there when all those past-due bills fluttered to the floor—and yet she had ordered Juliette to prepare the most expensive meal she could. And to pass it off as something special for my birthday. Why, I didn’t even like caviar!

  “Where does she find the nerve?” I asked Juliette through clenched teeth. “None of that will be necessary. I would like a very simple meal for my birthday dinner, please. Let’s see. . . . Would you be able to make . . . new potatoes in cream, buttered peas, and roast chicken? Yes, I think that would be quite nice.”

  “Lady Betsy, you are a gem,” Juliette said. “You are a credit to your mother. If only she realized—truly realized—how lucky she is to have a daughter like you.”

  My smile went all wobbly; I tried to hide it, but Juliette noticed, of course.

  “You think I am just saying that to flatter you, but it’s the truth!” she said earnestly. “Look at your poor mother, all these trips to town, begging for a loan, while here at home, you sacrifice again and again—”

  “Begging for a loan?” I interrupted. Surely that wasn’t what Juliette had said. Surely I had misheard her.

  “I am so sorry, Lady Betsy,” Juliette said. “I know that your mother has tried to shelter you, but I hate knowing that such a secret is being kept from you. I know you are mature enough to hear the truth, even though it’s not my place to tell you. Oh . . . please forget I said anything!”

  “Of course I can’t forget!” I cried. “Are things really so bad that Mum’s been begging? And if things are so dire, why is Mum allowing Gabrielle to run up such bills on things like groceries and fancy gowns?”

  Juliette bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder into the empty corridor behind us. “I’m afraid I have heard that it is indeed that bad. But we shouldn’t discuss this here,” she whispered. “And I need to start the meringues. Come with me.”