Betsy’s Story, 1934

by Adele Whitby

  I followed Juliette to the kitchen. As luck would have it, Eloise and Daphne were polishing silver in the scullery, so it was just the two of us.

  “Juliette, it doesn’t make any sense,” I exclaimed. “Mum’s been a keen manager of Chatswood Manor for years and years—more than a decade! So why would it all go to pieces now?”

  “Overspending, perhaps?” Juliette guessed as she began to break some eggs into a bowl.

  I shook my head. “She’s very frugal, and practical to a fault. No, there must be something else going on.” I tapped my fingers on the butcher block. “What if . . . ? No, it doesn’t make sense . . . but none of this does. . . .”

  “What are you thinking?” asked Juliette.

  “What if—promise you won’t laugh—what if someone were trying to sabotage Mum?”

  Juliette paused; a slimy egg white slid through her fingers. “Sabotage? Why?”

  “Well, to make her look incompetent,” I said, figuring out my thoughts as I spoke. “You know, someone inside the house could hide the bills and the telegrams from her, that sort of thing. To make it seem like Mum isn’t capable of managing Chatswood.”

  Juliette furiously whisked the bowl full of egg whites. “But who would do such a thing?”

  “I haven’t figured that part out yet,” I admitted. “I suppose it could be anyone who works here, really—”

  “Or a visitor.”

  “Cousin Gabrielle?” I asked in surprise.

  “I was going to say your cousin’s staff,” Juliette said. “But now that you mention it . . . well, it was strange, wasn’t it? The way Lady Gabrielle insisted on visiting?”

  “Yes, it was indeed strange, but I’m still not sure it’s her.”

  “Though I can’t imagine what motive her staff would have to sabotage your mother.”

  “But what motive would Gabrielle have?” I replied. “If Gabrielle really is penniless, as the advisers fear, then why would she want to sabotage my mum? Wouldn’t it make more sense for her to come here and ask for a loan?”

  “What better target than your mother, the heir to the Chatswood fortune?” Juliette said quickly. I noticed she was whipping the egg whites faster and faster. “If she could convince the advisers that your mother was mismanaging the estate and find a way to wrest control of the family fortune, just think of the possibilities! Lady Gabrielle is a blood relative, correct?”

  “Yes,” I replied, as a dreadful sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. “I mean, she’s not a descendant of the Chatswood line, but she and Mum shared the same great-grandmother, Cecily.”

  “I have seen lesser relations weasel their way to more,” Juliette said darkly.

  “Oh, Juliette,” I whispered. “Do you really think that’s what’s happening?”

  But Juliette only shrugged. I could tell she believed it, though. She just didn’t want to upset me by saying it.

  “What am I going to do?”

  “I am sure you’ll think of something, milady,” Juliette said as she finished whipping the egg whites, which had grown stiff and glossy in the bowl. “A girl as bright as you will figure something out.”

  I tried to smile, but in truth I felt terrible. Sitting in the bright, bustling kitchen of Chatswood Manor—the heart of the downstairs—I was suddenly acutely aware that all of it could be slipping away from us, bit by bit, a little more every moment . . . until Mum and I had lost everything.

  Just like Cousin Kay and her parents.

  I will stop Cousin Gabrielle, I vowed. No matter what it takes.

  At dinner that night, I could barely look at Cousin Gabrielle. Since my conversation with Juliette, I had become even more convinced that my concerns about Gabrielle were well founded. It seemed like the only possible explanation for all the strange occurrences that had plagued us lately—and I was sure it was no coincidence that everything went so wrong right after she arrived.

  Juliette must’ve felt sorry for me after our conversation in the kitchen, for she made one of my favorite meals—lamb medallions and new potatoes—for dinner. But I was so heartsick and angry that I could scarcely eat a bite. Across the table, Gabrielle had no such troubles. My stomach churned with resentment with every bite she took. That’s our silver, I thought as she brought the fork to her shiny red lips. That’s our food!

  “What you really ought to do is find a husband,” Gabrielle lectured Mum after the first course. “It’s been ten years since James died, Beth. And you don’t want to be rattling around in this big old house all by yourself after Betsy goes to boarding school.”

  Boarding school? I thought in shock. Chatswood Manor was my home. I would never leave it willingly! What is Gabrielle talking about?

  I looked expectantly at Mum, waiting for her to tell Gabrielle that she would never send me away. But Mum was, as usual these days, preoccupied by something else. “I’m sorry?”

  Gabrielle waved her fork in my direction. “Boarding school for Betsy. At the earliest possible opportunity.”

  “No!” I exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly—for everyone in the room turned to look at me. “I won’t ever leave Chatswood Manor. And certainly not for boarding school!”

  Gabrielle laughed at my outburst. “Betsy, Betsy, ma chère, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said smoothly. “I went to boarding school when I was fifteen years old, and my only regret is that my parents didn’t send me sooner. After all, just look at me now!”

  Yes, look at you, I thought angrily. Destitute and trying to swindle my mum—your own cousin—out of her inheritance!

  “Besides, it’s high time you saw the world a bit—and learned to live on your own,” Gabrielle continued. “This town is quaint, but far too provincial for a girl of your heritage.”

  “Is it?” I asked icily. “Then why are you here?”

  Gabrielle placed her fork beside her plate. “Pardonnez-moi?”

  “Betsy,” Mum said, a warning in her voice. But I ignored her and plowed ahead.

  “If Chatswood Manor is so beneath you, I can’t imagine what keeps you here. Please, go; you needn’t stay on our account.”

  “Elizabeth Northrop,” Mum said sharply. “That is quite enough.”

  “But, Mum—”

  “Mr. Embry,” Mum continued, “please see that the rest of Betsy’s dinner is sent to her room.”

  “As you wish, Lady Beth.”

  Then Mum turned back to me. “You’re excused, Betsy. You’ll spend the remainder of the evening in your room considering your disgraceful rudeness. Tomorrow Cousin Gabrielle and I will hear your apology.”

  I had no choice but to rise from the table with as much dignity as I could muster—but it wasn’t easy, considering how my face was burning with shame. On my way out of the room, I could hear Mum begin to apologize to Gabrielle on my behalf.

  But I didn’t hear her say one word against Gabrielle’s suggestion that I be sent away.

  In my room, I blinked back hot, angry tears as I sat down at my desk. Writing to Cousin Kay was the only thing I could think to do that would make me feel better after the dreadful day I’d had. I wrote and wrote and wrote, not pausing for a moment, not when my hand started to cramp, not even when a tear slipped down my cheek and smudged some of the ink.

  At some point, there was a soft knock at the door, but I didn’t answer.

  The knock came again.

  Go away, I thought.

  But the door creaked open.

  I looked up hopefully. It had to be Mum; no one else in the house would dare enter without my permission. She’s come to hear my side of things, I thought as a wave of relief washed over me.

  But it wasn’t Mum. It was Maggie, carrying a tray of sandwiches. I turned back to my letter to hide my disappointment.

  “I’ve brought some supper, milady,” she said a quiet voice.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Please, milady; I know your mother is eager for you to complete your meal.”

  �
�I’m not hungry.”

  There was a long silence before Maggie spoke again. “I’ll have to tell your mother that you’ve refused your supper, then.”

  “I’m sure you were planning to report back to her anyway.”

  And with that, Maggie finally left me in peace so that I could conclude my letter.

  Mum said that I could come out when I’m ready to apologize to Cousin Gabrielle—but I can’t bear it, Kay! I can’t! She’s the one who owes us an apology! I’ve got to find a way to make Mum understand what Gabrielle’s up to . . . but how? It will be especially hard to prove what Gabrielle is plotting if I’m trapped in my room. Oh, Kay, it seems so hopeless. Perhaps I’ll have to apologize after all. But only if I absolutely have no other choice. What I’ve got to do is find a way to prove to Mum that Gabrielle is scheming to take her fortune. The only question is . . . how?

  When morning came, Maggie’s knock at my door was earlier than expected. “Good morning, milady,” she said, as if the unpleasantness of the night before was a distant memory. “I’ve brought you a boiled egg and some toast—and a nice pot of tea. I thought you might be a bit peckish.”

  I hated to admit it, but I was ravenous. Sending away my supper had seemed like a good idea at the time, but I had come to regret it as the hours passed.

  “Thank you, Maggie,” I said stiffly. To be honest, I was a bit embarrassed by her kindness.

  We didn’t speak much as Maggie helped me dress for the day. “How would you like to wear your hair, milady?” she asked.

  “Oh, I don’t care.” I sighed. As long as apologizing to Gabrielle hung over my head, I knew I’d be able to think of little else. Better get it over with, I told myself. Besides, you’ve got more important things to worry about. “Listen, Maggie, when you’re done, if you wouldn’t mind telling Mum—”

  “I surely will, milady, but she’s just left for town,” Maggie replied.

  “For town?” I repeated.

  “Yes. I heard her telling Mr. Embry last night that she had an early appointment,” Maggie continued. “But as soon as she’s back, I’ll be certain to tell her that you’d like to see her.”

  “Yes, Maggie, please do,” I said. A plan was unfurling in my mind—a foolhardy one, to be certain, but the more I considered it, the more convinced I became that it just might work. “And, you know, I think I’ll just wear my hair down today. There’s no need for you to fuss with it. I can brush it myself.”

  “Very well, milady,” Maggie said. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “No, Maggie. Thank you.”

  Somehow I made myself sit quietly while I waited for Maggie to finish in my room. Stay calm, I told myself as I took a bite of toast. Act normally.

  The instant Maggie was gone, I dropped my scone on the plate and rushed to the wardrobe. I pulled on my shoes and grabbed my cream-colored coat. And then—expressly disobeying my mother—I left my room.

  I couldn’t believe how easy it was to walk out of Chatswood Manor all on my own. Surely every footman and housemaid had heard about the scene at dinner—and my embarrassing punishment—but not a single one dared to stop me. The feeling of freedom was positively dizzying! There was a cheerful spring in my step as I set off down the twisty path that led to the heart of town. I couldn’t believe that this plan hadn’t occurred to me sooner. Of course a trip to town could help me find the evidence I needed to prove to Mum what Gabrielle had been plotting. Perhaps I could ask around a bit to learn who, exactly, had been spreading rumors about Mum’s finances. If the description matched my cousin, I’d have proof—and a witness. Mum would have to believe me then, no matter how fond she was of Gabrielle. And if I walked quickly enough, I might even be able to find out the purpose of Mum’s appointment. Was she really attempting to get a loan . . . or was there another reason for all her trips to town recently? Just because Mum’s keeping a whole pack of secrets from me doesn’t mean I can’t find them out, I thought with determination.

  I could already imagine how it would go when I told Mum about Gabrielle’s schemes. . . . She would be shocked at first, but then she’d be so grateful to me for uncovering them and saving Chatswood Manor! Of course, Gabrielle would be sent away at once. Then all the unpleasantness of the last few weeks will disappear, I thought, fairly skipping as I came to a bend in the road, and things between Mum and me will be just as wonderful as they’ve always—

  “Betsy!”

  It was my mother, sitting on a stone bench just off the path, looking positively astonished to see me. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at her.

  Mum stood up right away. “What are—how did—why—”

  “I—I—”

  “Who said you could leave Chatswood Manor? Or your room, for that matter?” Mum continued. “Are you going to town? Alone?”

  “I—”

  “Are you following me?”

  “I—”

  “Answer my questions!”

  “I would if you’d give me a chance!”

  I’m not sure who was more surprised that I’d raised my voice—Mum or me. I’d never yelled at her before, not once in all my life.

  Mum looked at me for a long moment. “Fair enough. Go ahead, Betsy. I’m listening.”

  I took a deep breath. This was it—my chance to make things right.

  “I did leave the house—and my room—without permission,” I began. “I know more about what’s going on than you’ve told me. I think—I think I know more about it than you do.”

  “Is that so?” Mum asked evenly. “Go on.”

  “I know that there’ve been troubles with the accounts and that people think that we’ve nearly exhausted the inheritance.”

  “I told you to not to worry about that.”

  “But how could I not worry about it, Mum?” I asked. “Aunt Kate wasn’t worried, and look what happened to her. If we’re on the brink of losing everything—just like our American relatives—”

  A pained expression crossed Mum’s face. “Oh, Betsy,” she murmured. “This has been weighing so heavily on you, hasn’t it?”

  “All the secrets have!” I exclaimed as my eyes welled with tears. “I don’t want to lose Chatswood Manor, Mum! It’s our home! Where would we go? How would we live? What would happen to us?”

  Mum immediately wrapped her arms around me. “Chatswood Manor is on sound financial footing, and you needn’t take my word on it,” she said. “We’ll go to the bank. We’ll go right now and have a chat with Mr. Mageary. If you see the accounts with your own eyes, my darling, you’ll know that there is nothing to worry about. I’ve taken many precautions to protect the inheritance during these years of financial uncertainty, and I’m pleased to say that we’ve weathered the storm.”

  “Then why have you been keeping so many secrets from me?” I asked. “We’ve never had secrets before, but now you won’t tell me anything. Don’t you trust me anymore? Why—”

  I swallowed hard as a lump filled my throat. And then, to my surprise, I saw Mum blink back tears as well.

  “Come, Betsy. Sit with me,” Mum said as she led me over to the stone bench. When we were both seated, she took my hands in hers. “First, I owe you an apology. You’re right; I shouldn’t have kept so many secrets from you. It’s a mother’s job to protect her child, but you’re not much of a child anymore, are you? And I see quite clearly that in trying to shield you from a painful truth, I’ve only caused you greater heartache. For that, dear Betsy, I am sorry. Please know that the trust I place in you has never wavered. Not once.”

  I tried to smile, but the words “painful truth” hung heavily in the air between us.

  “And so let me make things right by telling you now,” Mum continued. “You remember, of course, the phone call I received from Aunt Kate a few weeks ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re right that there was something she told me in that call that I’ve kept from you.”

  I could tell from her voice that it was bad news. “Is it ab
out Cousin Kay?” I cried, my heart pounding.

  Mum shook her head. “No . . . well, not exactly,” she replied. “You see, darling, Uncle Joseph—well, we must try with all our might not to judge him for what he has done. Remember, Betsy, that he committed this act with the best of intentions—to protect Aunt Kate and Kay from destitution. And when you look at it like that, you can see that there is a certain sort of . . . nobility to it.”

  “Oh, Mum,” I whispered. “What did he do?”

  “He took the Katherine necklace from Aunt Kate’s dressing table . . . and he sold it.”

  I gasped in horror. “He sold it? He sold the Katherine necklace?”

  “Yes. But—”

  “He had no right! It doesn’t belong to him—he had no right!”

  “No, Betsy, he didn’t,” Mum said. “Aunt Kate was livid.”

  I leaped off the bench and began pacing back and forth. “We’ve got to buy it back,” I said urgently. “Mum, can’t we wire the money and—”

  “Betsy, darling, I know this news comes as a shock, but please let me finish before you upset yourself further,” Mum said, pulling me back to the bench. I sat down with reluctance. It was hard to keep still when all I wanted was to run the rest of the way to town, withdraw the money from our accounts, and wire it to America immediately!

  “When Aunt Kate and I spoke on the phone, she had just discovered what Uncle Joseph had done,” Mum continued. “You can imagine how upset she was. Of course I offered to buy back the necklace immediately, but Aunt Kate didn’t yet know which pawnshop held it, or how much the price would be. So we agreed that she would send me the information by telegram as soon as possible so that I could wire the money directly to the shop at once.

  “The only problem is that the telegram never came—and, as you remember, Aunt Kate no longer had a phone or even a reliable address that I could use to reach them. And when I finally did receive a telegram from Aunt Kate, it contained the worst possible news: Somehow, her first and second telegrams never reached me, and during that delay, the pawnshop sold the necklace to someone else.”