Betsy’s Story, 1934 Page 4

  After I finished my notes, I went to the kitchen to see Juliette.

  “Ah, Lady Betsy!” she said with a warm smile. “I am glad to see you!”

  “Is everything all right?” I asked. “You looked so worried in the library—”

  Juliette quickly shook her head. “Oh, you must pay me no mind, milady,” she replied. “It is true that your cousin’s requests are . . . somewhat surprising. To be truthful, I’m still not accustomed to taking orders directly from the lady of the house. Ever since Mrs. Murphy was let go, it has been difficult for me to adjust, but I must do my best.”

  “Mrs. Murphy wasn’t let go,” I corrected Juliette. “She wanted to retire.”

  “Oh. Did she?” Juliette asked. “That’s not what I heard. I thought your mother sacked her to save on the expense of her salary—”

  “That’s not true!” I cried. “Mum would never do such a thing!”

  “Yes, I am sure you are right,” Juliette said right away. “I am so sorry, Lady Betsy. I must remember not to believe everything I hear. Besides, everyone knows that Lady Beth is a good and kind woman.”

  “Yes, she is,” I said. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I shouldn’t get upset at Juliette, I realized—she was just telling me what she had heard. I knew she meant no harm. The real reason I was upset was Cousin Gabrielle. “I can hardly believe that Mum and Gabrielle are cousins,” I said to Juliette, changing the subject. “Do you know what Gabrielle did when she visited Chatswood for Mum’s birthday? She was jealous of Mum receiving the Elizabeth necklace, so Gabrielle ordered her lady’s maid to throw away her own heirloom necklace in hopes that she’d get a fancier one to replace it. Then she tried to blame Mum’s lady’s maid for stealing it—when really her own lady’s maid was to blame!”

  “She sounds like a monster,” Juliette replied. “I hope she doesn’t try to ruin your birthday like she ruined your mother’s.”

  “I hope not as well,” I echoed. But if Cousin Gabrielle had more mischief in mind, would there be any way to stop her?

  The next morning I was continuing my letter to Kay when Mum stopped by my room. “It’s such a beautiful day, Betsy,” she said. “Would you like to take a walk in the garden with me?”

  “Of course!” I replied, putting down my pen at once.

  “Oh, good,” Mum said, linking her arm through mine. “I’ve been so busy lately, I feel as though I’ve barely seen you. And there’s something that I’ve been wanting to talk with you about.”

  My pulse quickened. Could this be the big secret? I wondered. “What’s that?”

  “Let’s discuss it in the garden,” Mum replied.

  We had nearly reached the front door when Mr. Embry hurried up to us.

  “Lady Beth—” he began.

  “Good morning, Mr. Embry,” Mum said. “Betsy and I are off for a walk in the garden. But before we go, have there been any telegrams?”

  Mr. Embry shook his head as he tried to catch his breath. “No, milady, not today,” he replied. “However, you have just now received some visitors. They are in the drawing room.”

  “Visitors!” Mum repeated in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. Who is it, Mr. Embry?”

  “Your advisory council, milady.”

  Mum looked puzzled. “That’s odd,” she said. “They were here just last week.” Then she turned to me. “I’m so sorry, Betsy, but we’ll have to take our walk another time.”

  “I understand,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

  “I knew you would.” Mum leaned forward to kiss my cheek, then disappeared down the corridor with Mr. Embry.

  What am I going to do now? I thought. I could’ve gone back to my room and written to Kay, but how could I concentrate on my letter knowing that Mum wanted to tell me something important? Wondering what the big secret could be had been on my mind for months. If I didn’t find out soon, I might burst!

  Mum has been so preoccupied with her correspondence lately, I thought, remembering all the letters she’d received and her constant checking for a telegram. Maybe the answers to my questions were lurking in one of those letters. Maybe if I took a peek at Mum’s desk, the secret would reveal itself to me!

  It’s no harm to look, I told myself as I set off for the library. Mum always says that learning how to manage Chatswood is my responsibility and my duty. She would be proud of my initiative!

  But even as I thought those things, I found myself walking very quickly, and very quietly, hoping that no one would see me. And I would’ve made it, too—if I hadn’t collided with Juliette the moment I entered the library!

  “Ow!” I cried.

  “Lady Betsy!” Juliette exclaimed. “I am so sorry! Oh, I am clumsy—are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” I said, rubbing a sore spot on my head. “I’m so surprised to see you here. Are you all right?”

  “I am fine, milady, and thank you for asking.”

  “Mum’s in the drawing room,” I said. “Did you need her? Her advisers dropped by unexpectedly.”

  “I was just . . . I wanted to deliver the grocer’s bill,” Juliette explained, gesturing to Mum’s desk. I glanced over and noticed how untidy it appeared, cluttered with loose papers. “The monthly payment is quite overdue, so I—”

  “Overdue?” I repeated.

  “Surely nothing to worry about,” said Juliette. “Lady Beth is a very busy woman. No doubt trivialities like bills can easily slip her mind.”

  “But Mum always keeps the accounts current,” I said, confused. “She prides herself on it.”

  “Of course she does!” Juliette said. “That’s why I wanted to make sure that I, personally, brought the bill to her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Betsy, I must go back to the kitchen. The preparations for Lady Gabrielle’s visit are wearing me to the bone.”

  “I’m sorry, Juliette. You already work so hard.”

  “It’s no trouble, really,” she said. “As long as all Lady Gabrielle does is make demands of me, all shall be well. My real concern is that . . . Oh, never mind that.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Juliette looked troubled. “I just hate to think that Lady Gabrielle has plans to run through your mother’s fortune as she’s already run through her own.”

  “What?” I gasped in shock.

  “I thought you knew,” Juliette said, lowering her voice to a whisper. She glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “The rumor is that Gabrielle is quite destitute. Penniless, really, and subsisting on the charity of friends and relations.”

  “I had no idea!”

  “Isn’t that why the advisers are here today?”

  “I—I don’t know,” I stammered.

  “I can’t imagine why else they’d come so soon after their last visit,” Juliette told me. “But it’s none of my business, Lady Betsy. You mustn’t say anything to your mother about this conversation. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “Of course,” I replied. I gave her hand a grateful squeeze. “And thank you for telling me, Juliette.”

  “It’s your fortune, too, you know,” she told me in a somber voice. “You have a right to know.”

  Then Juliette hurried toward the kitchen.

  I immediately set off for the drawing room. It wouldn’t be right to burst in on Mum’s meeting uninvited, but I wanted to hear the advisers’ concerns for myself.

  I agree with Juliette, I thought in determination. I do have a right to know.

  The drawing-room doors were closed, but Mum and the advisers were speaking at full volume. I could hear every word.

  “Our concerns are not unfounded.” That had to be Lord Turley. “If it is true that Lady Gabrielle has fallen on reduced circumstances—”

  “Which it is not,” Mum said angrily.

  “Then we have a duty and an obligation to the estate to ensure that its fortunes will stay intact,” he continued.

  Mr. Markham spoke up. “The word is that she would l
ike to ask you for a sizable loan. Which is not out of the question—”

  “I should say that it is!” argued Mr. Edwards.

  “Which is not out of the question if there is some sort of collateral attached,” Mr. Markham continued. “But to verify such a thing, we would need to send a representative to Paris to examine her accounts.”

  “This conversation is an outrage,” Mum said. “Have you forgotten that you are speaking of Lady Gabrielle Trufant, my own blood relation, in my home?”

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

  “Perhaps you would be more willing to discuss this other issue,” Lord Turley said. I heard the rustle of papers.

  “Exactly what are you asking?” Mum replied, her voice like ice.

  “You have withdrawn a large sum of money from the general account,” said Lord Turley. “I would like to inquire why.”

  “And I would like to remind you that that is none of your business,” Mum said. “Your conservatorship does not extend to my personal use of my—”

  “Lady Betsy!”

  It was Maggie! And she looked horrified to discover me listening at the door!

  “Come away from there,” she said in a low voice. “You haven’t got the right to eavesdrop—”

  “I do!” I yelled, wrenching my arm away from her—and completely forgetting to keep my voice down. “You haven’t got the right to tell me what to do!”

  There was a sudden silence in the drawing room. I was filled with dread as I realized just how loudly I’d spoken. I heard footsteps, the door swung open, and there stood Mum, looking angrier than I’d ever seen her.

  “Betsy!” she exclaimed. “Were you listening at the door?”

  I stared into my mother’s eyes and knew that I had to tell the truth. “I—I—I—” But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

  “I have never been so disappointed in you,” Mum said. “Maggie, please take Betsy to her room and stay with her until I’ve concluded my meeting.”

  Then, without another word, Mum turned around, closing the door behind her.

  In the end, there was nothing the advisers could say or do that would change Mum’s mind about Gabrielle’s visit. A week later I stood in the grand hall next to Mum while we waited for our chauffeur, Lionel, to return with Gabrielle from the train station. I glanced at Mum out of the corner of my eye. After giving me a short lecture on respecting the privacy of closed doors, she hadn’t said another word about my eavesdropping. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was unhappy with me. Mum was so busy every day that I scarcely saw her, and when I did, she seemed unusually preoccupied. Even now, in the hallway, there was a tightness around her mouth, and her forehead was wrinkled as if something was troubling her.

  “We never did take our walk,” Mum said suddenly. “I’m sorry, Betsy. It completely slipped my mind.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “I asked Juliette to prepare a light luncheon, and the footmen have set up a table in the garden, among the peonies,” Mum continued. “It will be a lovely way to get reacquainted with Cousin Gabrielle.”

  She looked so worried, staring off into the distance, that I wanted to ask her what was wrong. But before I could, we heard the motorcar arrive. In an instant, all Mum’s worries seemed to melt away as a beaming smile transformed her face. I followed her quick footsteps outside just as Cousin Gabrielle stepped out of the motorcar.

  I didn’t remember Gabrielle from her last visit, which had happened more than ten years ago. I wasn’t quite sure what I had expected . . . but certainly not this!

  Gabrielle’s lemon-yellow hair was slicked back in a glossy bob. Enormous diamond chandelier earrings dangled beside her cheeks, scattering flashes of light across her rouged face. Even her lips were painted as red as a toffee apple from the fair! There was a fur stole wrapped around her shoulders despite the warmth of the day. She looked like she had stepped out of Hollywood Hello magazine.

  “Welcome, dear Gabrielle!” Mum exclaimed, reaching out her hands.

  “Cousin Beth,” Gabrielle cried, swooping toward Mum and wrapping her in a hug. “It has been too long!”

  “Far too long,” Mum agreed.

  Gabrielle stepped back and held Mum at arm’s length, eyeing her carefully. “You are looking well,” she finally declared. “But tired. And—ah, ah, ah, what is this I see? Wrinkles?”

  “Laugh lines,” Mum protested, ducking away from Gabrielle’s grasp.

  “No, no, no. There is nothing funny about them,” Gabrielle retorted. “You are too young for such things. You worry too much, I think. Never mind. I am here now, and I will take care of everything.”

  “Really,” Mum said, “such things do not concern me!”

  “Oh, but they should!” Gabrielle exclaimed. “I will send to my personal chemist in Paris for a wonderful new cream for your face,” Gabrielle promised. “It is no trouble at all. You will love it, Beth. You will look ten years younger!”

  “Betsy!” Mum called to me. “Come here, darling, and say hello to Cousin Gabrielle!”

  I took a deep breath and stepped forward. As Gabrielle rushed forward to hug me, I braced my shoulders—and a good thing, too, because I think she would’ve knocked me right over!

  “Betsy, Betsy, Betsy!” Gabrielle cried. “Look how you’ve grown. Oh, I knew you would be beautiful, but no, it is not possible that you have become such a beauty. My goodness!”

  “Thank y—”

  “But I will never understand why you canceled your ball.” Gabrielle spoke right over me, then turned to Mum. “Or why you let her. A Chatswood family tradition—”

  “Adam! William!” Mum called to our footmen. “Would you please bring Lady Gabrielle’s luggage to the guest suite?”

  “This is my lady’s maid, Bernadette,” Gabrielle said, snapping her fingers at a young woman who was thin as a reed and looked meeker than a mouse. “Go, Bernadette, and unpack my gowns. I’ll want the crimson one for dinner, so make sure that it’s ready. Go!”

  Bernadette rushed after the footmen, who were struggling under the weight of an enormous steamer trunk. Then, to my astonishment, I realized that Gabrielle had brought three more trunks as well! How can one person need so much luggage? I wondered. Exactly how long is Cousin Gabrielle planning to stay?

  “You must be in need of some refreshment,” Mum was saying. “I’ve arranged for a light luncheon in the garden—”

  “No, not at all, but do send for Madame Lorraine,” Gabrielle interrupted her. “I telegraphed her last week that she should begin sketching designs for my new gown, and I can’t wait to see them! You’ll see, Beth, the good a new gown can do for a woman. You look sorely in need of one yourself.”

  Then she linked arms with Mum and started up the stairs, leaving me standing outside, all alone. It was like they’d both forgotten all about me—even Mum, who seemed completely happy to be with her cousin. Happier than she’d been in weeks. I loved seeing my mum so happy, but I couldn’t help remembering what I had heard the advisers say about Gabrielle. What if she was laying a trap for Mum, and Mum was walking right into it?

  I was more determined than ever to keep my wits about me at all times when I was around Cousin Gabrielle. After all, I had to look out for my mum.

  Later that day, I continued my letter to Kay.

  Cousin Gabrielle arrived this morning, Kay. I don’t know how to say this, but . . . she’s even worse than I expected! Loud and brash, she talks over everyone else and seems content only when she is the center of attention. Madame Lorraine brought over her sketches for Gabrielle and Mum’s new gowns, and Gabrielle’s is the most ostentatious dress I’ve ever seen, with real ostrich plumes sewn into the skirt. Mum’s is much more dignified. And the oddest thing of all is that Mum actually seems to enjoy having Gabrielle here!

  It seems so fundamentally unfair that Gabrielle is visiting us and not you, Kay. I would give anything to have you here in her place.

  I paused in my w
riting and frowned at the page. Would reading this upset Kay? I wondered. It’s got to be just as hard on her to be staying home. I’d hate to send her a letter that makes her feel even worse about everything

  I crumpled up the page and tossed it into the wastebasket, feeling an immense ache of loneliness. I wanted so badly to talk to someone about my concerns—like Kay or Mum or even my former lady’s maid, Emily. But Kay was unreachable; Emily was gone; and Mum . . . well, I couldn’t talk to Mum, not the way I wanted to, not with Gabrielle taking up all her time. I realized that this was the very first time in my whole life when I hadn’t been able to go to Mum with my troubles. And that made me feel even sadder.

  Juliette! I suddenly thought. Juliette will understand!

  I found her in the kitchen, dressing a pair of plump chickens to roast above a bed of carrots, pearl onions, and new potatoes.

  “Betsy!” Juliette said, looking genuinely pleased to see me. “I didn’t expect to see you, not with your cousin’s arrival.”

  “Am I interrupting?”

  “Interrupting? The glamorous life of a chef?” Juliette laughed as she gestured to the trussed-up chickens. “Not at all. Eloise! Please bring Lady Betsy some biscuits and a glass of lemonade.”

  “Lemonade!” I exclaimed in surprise. “Really? We haven’t had lemonade since last summer.”

  “Yes. I made a large pitcher to serve with dinner tonight. The lemons were dreadfully expensive, but I suppose what Lady Gabrielle wants, Lady Gabrielle shall get.”

  “Oh, Juliette.” I groaned. “She’s awful. Dreadful. Worse than ever I dreamed.”

  Juliette bit her lip. “I—” Then she shook her head. “No. I shouldn’t speak of it.”

  “Speak of what?” I asked. “Did something happen?”

  “It was my own fault, really,” Juliette said, her eyes sparkling as if they were full of tears. She quickly looked down, staring at her hands. “I’d gone upstairs to . . .”

  “Go on,” I encouraged her.

  “Lady Gabrielle saw me in the corridor and berated me for going upstairs,” Juliette said in a hoarse whisper. “Never—in all my years of service—has anyone ever spoken to me like that. She said that the specter of me in my apron was a blemish on the estate—”