The Dressmaker's Secret (The Chronicles of Alice and Ivy Book 1)

by Kellyn Roth

  Alice nodded. The Knights certainly owned a lot more land than she’d know what to do with. “And to the east and west?”

  “It’s wide.” Kirk shrugged. “Don’t know exactly how much. Friend of mine works at the stables. Roddy McDonnel’s his name, and his family has a tenancy to the west—it’s a long walk for Roddy.”

  Alice blinked. That didn’t make sense. “Why doesn’t he stay at the stables? You do, right?” She’d thought all servants lived where they worked.

  “In our quarters. But he has days off, same as me.” Kirk grinned. “You don’t know a thing, do you, Alice?”

  She stopped and glared. “I do, too! I was just asking a question. You don’t have to be so … so imperious.” It was the best word she could think of on short notice.

  He scowled. “I’m not … whatever that is. And you’re just a girl.”

  Just a girl? Mummy had been “just a girl” once—and Nettie and Miss Elton and Mrs. Knight. It was no insult as far as Alice could see. She frowned right back at him. “I’m a guest at Pearlbelle Park.”

  “Well, I live there.” He puffed up his chest and continued his walk, leaving Alice huffing by the roadside. “Coming or aren’t you?”

  “I … I …” She scurried to catch up. “I’m a fast learner. Nettie says so. And, anyway, you don’t go to school at all.”

  His swagger paused a moment before continuing. “I don’t like school.”

  “How do you know if you’ve never tried it?”

  “I just know.” He pointed up the road. “That’s my house.”

  Though she wanted to keep arguing until her worth was accepted, Alice paused when she saw the house he’d referenced. It was really more of a run-down shack than a house, but it was hard to see through all the laundry hanging about it.

  Why, there was almost a maze of laundry. Alice followed Kirk down the road, unsure what all the white sheets, petticoats, and other items drying on all those lines could mean.

  Kirk walked up the pathway between the comforters and clothing items to the door, which stood ajar, propped open by an iron. “Coming?”

  Alice scurried forward. “Yes. What’s all—?”

  “Oh, just clothes Mum’s washing. She does that as a business, you know. Anything she can get.” Kirk stepped forward into the wee cottage.

  Alice followed timidly behind.

  The inside was a bit dim, especially given there was only one window, which was becurtained. There was also a fire in the grate directly opposite, but it was nothing but coals.

  A giant iron pot stood in the middle of the floor and slightly smaller ones hung about the hearth. A table, three chairs, and an ironing board were situated to Alice’s left. The floor was wood but badly dented and bruised.

  “Mum? Lizzy? Where are you?” Kirk walked across the room. There were two doors leading out of the tiny room.

  “Here, Kirk.” A slender woman appeared in the doorway, her reddish hair pulled back into a frizzy bun. Alice immediately recognized those bright-green eyes. “Oh, you’ve brought a friend.” And red hands flew to pat her hair. “This must be Miss Alice.”

  Alice’s smile trembled a bit, but she did her best. “Hello, Mrs. Manning. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.” Mrs. Manning glanced over her shoulder. “Mr. Manning is ill, or he would meet you, too. And Lizzy—Lizzy is so shy around strangers. She’s young, though.”

  Alice nodded. “I understand. Are you a … a laundress?”

  Mrs. Manning glanced about, and a soft chuckle came from her throat. “Yes. Yes, I am. Mr. Manning isn’t able to work and hasn’t been for several years, so we all do our best. Even Lizzy helps me some. She’s a strong girl for her age.”

  Mrs. Manning had a deep voice for a woman, though it wasn’t exactly the kind of voice Alice had expected. She’d expected a voice like Kirk’s, that of a poor country tenant. Kirk had a pretty, lyrical way of speaking—but Mrs. Manning’s voice was smooth, gentle. Her accent was familiar … quite familiar, though Alice couldn’t place it.

  “But I’m glad Kirk has made a friend. He doesn’t get to go to school anymore, and I know he hasn’t much liked it.”

  Kirk scowled. “Ah, come on, Mum, I don’t mind. It’s freedom, after all, isn’t it?”

  “I think an education is—never mind. It doesn’t matter now.” A tight smile. “Alice, tell me about yourself. You’re from London?”

  Alice scuffed her toe along the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you like it there?”

  She shook her head. “Not much, but my mummy lives there, and so I’d like to go back soon. But not before I’ve seen everything at Pearlbelle. I love the country!”

  “The country is nice. I grew up in the city myself, and sometimes I miss the noise and the people, but I’ve been here since a little before Kirk was born now. It’s lovely. So peaceful …” She turned away from Alice and walked over to the cupboards. “I wish I had something to offer you, Alice, but I just don’t.”

  “That’s all right. It was lunchtime not too long ago.”

  Kirk smirked. “She calls dinner ‘lunch’ just like you do sometimes, Mum.”

  Mrs. Manning smiled. “How nice. Oh, there’s Lizzy.”

  Indeed, a tiny girl had peeked out of the second door. Her eyes flickered over to Alice, then she dashed across the room and buried her face in her mother’s skirt.

  “There now, darling. This is Kirk’s friend.” Mrs. Manning scooped her up. “Now, Lizzy, don’t be rude.”

  After a bit more coaxing, Lizzy removed her face from her mother’s shoulder just long enough to say, “Hewo.”

  Mrs. Manning beamed in triumph. “She’ll learn. Bit by bit, but she’ll learn. Kirk, where’s your Opie? Lizzy was looking forward to seeing him.”

  “Doggy,” Lizzy whispered, peeking up from her mother’s bodice again.

  “I tied him up in the bedroom with Roddy watching. The groundskeeper was around, and he doesn’t like Opie much.”

  Mrs. Manning bit her bottom lip. “Oh dear. If you want, Opie can stay here. You can’t lose that job over a dog.”

  Kirk’s face dropped. “I like having him with me. And I don’t think much of anyone else cares, especially Mr. Knight. He smiled when he saw Opie following me around the other day.”

  “Mr. Knight likes dogs,” Alice said. She didn’t want Opie far from her, either. “If Kirk gets in trouble, I can talk to him.”

  “Oh, very well. If you’re being careful.” Mrs. Manning sighed. “I just don’t want you getting in trouble, son.”

  “I won’t.” Kirk glanced at Alice, then out the door. “Alice thinks it might rain, so maybe we’d better head back.”

  Alice nodded. “Nettie will worry.”

  “Very well.” Mrs. Manning hitched Lizzy up higher on her hip. “Be sure to come again, Miss Alice.”

  “I will.”

  Mr. Parker had promised the girls a picnic not long after they arrived at Pearlbelle. After two weeks of begging and one week of demanding, Alice convinced him to organize it.

  Finally, sunshine had beat the clouds back that morning, and the sky shone blue. Even the birds tweeted with unusual ferocity.

  Alice spun around on her heel and scowled. “Ivy, come on—you’re getting behind.”

  “She’s with Nettie; she’ll be fine.” Mr. Knight reached a hand out to her. “Walk with me.”

  Alice shook her head. She wasn’t going to hold his hand. Instead, she skirted around him and tugged at Mrs. Knight’s sleeve. With her fingers slipped into her friend’s hand, she felt better able to enjoy the evening.

  “There’s the lake!” Miss Elton, who was on Alice’s other side, practically skipped. “How I’ve missed coming down here. This was my childhood—Steven, why don’t we have our old friends here anymore?”

  Mr. Parker snorted. “They’ve all grown up and gotten lives, Lois.”

  Miss Elton glared at him and whipped Ned up onto her shoulder
protectively, causing the baby to whimper.

  After making sure her son was all right, Mrs. Knight glanced over her shoulder. “Now, Steven. No need to be so morose.”

  Alice looked, too. Mr. Parker’s face brewed like a storm cloud ready to burst. She shrugged, not afraid of him but neither very compassionate. After all, he was a grown-up. Grown-ups should be more in control than he always seemed to be.

  “It’s more of a pond than a lake.” Mr. Knight gestured to the dip in the meadow. The body of water was surrounded by trees and high grasses, but there was a bit of a shoreline, where servants placed a blanket and picnic baskets.

  After eating, Mr. Parker coaxed Alice into a rowboat, and they shoved out onto the pond. He seemed to be good at rowing, and Alice commented on this.

  “I spent my boyhood here, as Miss Elton said.” He smiled. “I used to love coming here. There wasn’t a fish in this pond, not naturally, but I think my uncle would have some placed every so often as I’ve caught a few. They’re gone now.” Again, his face grew gloomy.

  “Did Miss Elton come out with you? Who were your friends?” Alice asked quickly. She didn’t want any more sadness. People ought not to wallow. They ought to get out into the world and live their lives.

  “Yes, Lois loved it, and actually … your mother. She’d come here every summer. And Mr. Knight and your uncle, Charles.” Mr. Parker lifted the paddle and watched the droplets rain down. “Your mother was a dear friend for many years. Since we were younger than you, I think. She and Miss Elton went to school together, and she’d always spend her holidays at Pearlbelle.” He dropped the paddle back in the water and pulled back. “She loved going out on this little pond, you know.”

  “Oh?” For some reason, Alice could imagine her mother as a girl but not as a boat-rower. That seemed strange. “Why, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. Rather good fun. Unless your friend tips the boat over.” A grin flickered across his face. “That’s what I did. She hated me after that, though of course I was eventually forgiven.”

  Alice scowled. Forgiven? She would never forgive such a grievous offense. “She shouldn’t have.”

  Mr. Parker smirked. “Don’t you think forgiveness is a virtue, Alice? Or do you believe anyone, having sinned, is too far gone for repentance and acceptance?”

  Alice folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the stern. “I don’t know. Some things people do are so dreadful.”

  “Yes, well.” His cheerful expression faded. “I can understand that.”

  She pushed herself up and cocked her head. “Do you do dreadful things, Mr. Parker?”

  He shrugged. “Once or twice, in my boyhood, I did things I am not, and never will be, proud of—I daresay I regret them.”

  “Like tipping Mummy’s boat over?”

  His face lightened. “I don’t exactly regret that, no. It was a good joke, and I don’t think she was truly mad. There were other things.” He fixed his eyes on the horizon for a moment. “But you don’t think there’s really anything a man or anyone can do that puts them beyond redemption, do you?”

  Alice wasn’t sure about this. It seemed they were having a much more serious conversation than even she had intended—and Alice liked serious conversations very much. Serious conversations were for adults, and she longed to be an adult.

  “I don’t know.” She wiggled on the seat, suddenly feeling as if she did know. “Nettie says there’s nothing you can do that will make God not love you, and I guess that’s got to be true. Nettie knows everything.”

  His expression mimed shock. “Oh dear! That’s not good news for me.”

  Alice offered a hesitant smile. “Why?”

  “Because Nettie doesn’t like me, and if she knows everything, well …” He sighed heavily and dropped his eyes as if despondent. “I suppose there’s no hope for me.”

  “Oh, I suppose you’re not all bad.” At least not that she knew of. It was hard to tell with men sometimes, as Alice was quickly learning.

  Mr. Parker picked up the oars again and glanced toward the shoreline. “I see they’re calling us back. Do you think they’ll let us have those tarts now?”

  Alice jumped up, causing the boat to rock. She grabbed the edges but nodded eagerly. “Yes! That must be it.”

  As the sun started to dip toward the horizon and the servants begun picking everything up, Mr. Knight came to sit next to Alice. She licked her fingers from the last remains of her tart and scooted over so he wasn’t anywhere near close to her.

  For a moment, he was silent, watching her, then he spoke. “I never noticed that chain around your neck, Alice! Is it your mother’s?”

  She blinked. How did he know that? “Yes, it is.” Feeling awkward but obligated, she pulled on the chain and held out the ring at the end. “See—it’s her ring.”

  “Aw.” He took the ring in his hand, forcing Alice to scoot closer. “Her birthstone, isn’t it? For December?”

  Alice nodded and tugged at the chain so he released it. “Yes. Ivy has one for January—that’s our birth month, you know.”

  “So I’ve heard. It’s mine, too.” He leaned back in the grass on his elbow like a boy, which made him shorter than her.

  She took a deep breath.

  “Did you have fun today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Ivy? She’s such a shy child.”

  Alice shrugged. “I think she had fun. She likes being out in the world—the country world, I mean. Not London. She hates being out in London.”

  “Ah.” Mr. Knight cocked his head, black eyes pinning her down. “Is Ivy … She’s a great deal quieter than you, isn’t she?”

  “She is. She was born that way.” Alice glared at him. “Doesn’t mean she isn’t a good sister and a better person.”

  “Right, right. Of course not. I only wondered … has your mother thought about seeing that she’s taken care of? I mean, a child like that can hardly hope to have a future, and—”

  “Ivy has plenty of future! Mummy always says they’ll keep each other company.”

  His brows lowered. “Seems a morose life. Always with your mother. I wonder if there’s any way to help her.”

  Alice’s ears perked. Usually when Mr. or Mrs. Lansky talked about Ivy, which wasn’t often, they would say things like, “Shouldn’t she be put in a home?” or “Can’t you see about training her to behave like a regular child?”

  Helping wasn’t part of the equation in most people’s minds when it came to Ivy. Still, Mr. Knight seemed to have the right idea about it.

  “Nettie says we can likely help Ivy most by loving and accepting her, and by reassuring her when she’s scared. She gets bad nightmares, and sometimes she can’t do anything when she’s scared—like in London.” Alice regarded Mr. Knight closely. “How do you think we could help?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps Nettie’s right; it’s all in loving and caring for the child. But I suppose I would say that … Ivy’s not the first, and surely there has been some research on how a child who is simpler and has such anxieties could be helped.” He sat up again, but Alice wasn’t afraid of his bigness now. “I think anyone deserves better than to always be scared. I remember I would be frightened of little things when I was young—younger than Ivy, but still.”

  “Are you ever scared anymore?” Alice almost wouldn’t believe that. Big men like him didn’t have cause to be scared. They could kill dragons—and there weren’t even that many dragons in England anymore, so they surely had nothing to worry about.

  “Sometimes.” He rose and held out his hand to Alice. “Of things that you wouldn’t know about, though.”

  “Like what? I might know.” She was willing to try knowing anything once.

  Mr. Knight smiled. “You always think you might know, don’t you, Alice?”

  Alice nodded. “What, then?”

  He laughed. “Well, Miss Persistent, sometimes I’m afraid for my wife and baby Ned. Even though they’re safe, I find little nothings to wo
rry about. I want to be a good owner of Pearlbelle, and I’m scared of letting people down. I’m not the most consistent man, and it can be difficult to stay the course. And most of all, I’m afraid of losing my good reputation.”

  “Oh.” Alice bit her bottom lip. She wasn’t afraid of any of those things, though if Mummy or Ivy or Nettie were ever unsafe, she’d be frightened, she supposed. And it must be hard to have too many people—servants and tenants and family—counting on you. “That makes sense.”

  Mr. Knight nodded. “Come now. We’d best head back.”

  Alice started to solemnly walk down the hill. She paused and looked up at Mr. Knight. He was a grown-up, but sometimes his smile made him seem the fun sort.

  She’d try.

  Alice tugged at his hand. “Race you back to Miss Hazel?”

  He gawked at her for a moment, then laughed aloud. “First one there gets the last strawberry tart?”

  Alice started running before he could finish the sentence.

  Chapter Twelve

  Claire pretended to examine her client carefully, though she’d known as soon as the woman entered her shop that the yellow fabric she’d demanded would be murder for her complexion.

  But the client was always right. Even when she was horribly wrong.

  Claire nodded slowly. “Any shade would complement your brilliant gray eyes, Mrs. Maston.” In truth, those gray eyes were squinted and reddened.

  “Thank you.” The middle-aged woman beamed and twirled in front of the mirror.

  “But … could I suggest a lavender?” Claire turned to a chair behind her, where she’d laid her choice, lifted the soft piece of fabric, and presented it to Mrs. Maston.

  “Oh.” Mrs. Maston stared at the fabric before accepting it. “It is lovely.”

  “I could make a beautiful dress in just that style for you.” Claire smiled winningly. “Perhaps with this lace trim …”

  In half an hour, Claire had a complete order placed, Mrs. Maston happy, and food for at least the next few weeks. A sense of well-being slid over her as it always did after a successful sale. I can do this, even by myself. I am strong enough. I don’t need anyone but myself …