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

  “Nettie, must I?” Alice looked up at her caretaker and stuck out her bottom lip. I don’t want to, Nettie. She hoped her eyes communicated this silent message.

  “Don’t be silly, Gracie. It’s going to be all right.” Yet, Nettie’s smile trembled around the edges, and her hand squeezed Alice’s shoulder until it pinched.

  Alice knew Nettie wasn’t going to let her squirm away, so she stepped forward and entered the room.

  A hush fell as if the adults had suspended conversation upon her arrival. Alice skittered back a bit, bumping into Ivy. Helena and Rosalind dashed around the twins to their parents, full of wonder over a new doll of Alice’s that was furnished with a complete wardrobe Mummy had made.

  But Alice wasn’t in the mood to discuss her doll’s clothing, proud as she was of the carefully sewn pieces. She felt out of place, as three strangers surveyed Ivy and her with narrowed eyes.

  The first was a man who stood upon her arrival. He was taller than Mr. Lansky by half a foot and wore a tidily cut suit. Alice could tell he was impeccably dressed. He possessed a neatly trimmed beard, and his hair was so dark it gleamed.

  The second was a man who resembled the first one somewhat vaguely, with the same dark hair and eyes, but he was clean-shaven. As her eyes flickered to his face, he rose, looking from her to Miss Berck before settling his eyes back on Alice.

  And the third was a woman with hazel eyes and flat brown hair, her dress extravagant and simple all at once—dull colored with a neat cut.

  Her eyes were the kindest and her face the softest, so Alice focused in on her. Even as she watched, the woman smiled.

  “What darlin’ girls! Why, I can’t imagine sweeter li’l things! Are they yours, Miss Chattoway? Oh my, how pretty they are. You must be so proud!”

  Alice blinked. The woman talked funny, her words all smooth and drawn out. She looked at her mother for guidance.

  After the woman spoke, the tension in the room seemed to ease slightly.

  “Yes,” Mummy said softly. “These two are my daughters, Alice and Ivy Chattoway.”

  Alice blinked. Chattoway? She’d always been called Alice Berck. But if her mother said so, she was a Chattoway. Like Uncle Charlie, she supposed.

  “Alice, Ivy, come to me.” Mummy held out her hand, and Alice shuffled across the room, leading Ivy.

  “The brunette is elder?” said the first gentleman, looking at Mummy rather than Alice. “She’s quite a bit taller.”

  Something hot prickled in Alice’s chest. She turned to the gentleman and glared. “My name is Alice, not ‘the brunette,’ and I’m only older by fifteen minutes, and I’m only three inches taller than Ivy.”

  “Alice Christina!” Mummy’s voice was sharp.

  Shame flooded Alice’s chest. Had she already done something wrong? Her mother always encouraged her to speak her mind, but perhaps that wasn’t all right in front of people. She frowned and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, but he started it.”

  There was a moment of shocked silence—even Helena and Rosalind gawked at Alice.

  Then the second gentleman laughed a gentle chuckle. “Steven, she’s got you there.”

  The woman smiled. “Yes, Steven, try to be human for once. Alice, how old are you?”

  “I’m eight,” said Alice, allowing a slow smile to spread across her face. “So is Ivy. We’re twins.”

  “How lovely! I always wanted to be a twin, but all I’ve got is a muleheaded brother who treats me like a baby.” The woman’s face pinched. “Your dress is simply adorable, you know—come over here and spin for me.”

  She held out a hand as she spoke, and Alice stepped forward to see her.

  “I’m Mrs. Philip Knight, but you can call me Miss Hazel.”

  Alice glanced at her mother but received no direction, so she nodded. “All right. I suppose you can call me Alice.” She nodded with what she hoped was quiet dignity.

  “Such a sweet name! I’ve always loved it.” Miss Hazel cocked her head. “And how are you doin’ today, Miss Alice?”

  “Very well. And you?” Just like a little lady. Alice beamed. Some of those lectures of Nettie’s had sunk in, no matter how she complained about Alice’s inattention.

  Before Miss Hazel got a chance to answer, Mummy broke in. “Alice, it’s time for you and Ivy to go upstairs with the Miss Lanskys and have your tea. Run along to Nettie.”

  Disappointed, as she was starting to like Miss Hazel, Alice turned and left the room, dragging Ivy after her. As they ran around the corner, she heard the first gentleman say something like, “Is Nettie still with you?” But she didn’t hear her mother’s reply.

  Chapter Two

  Alice settled in with Helena, Rosalind, and their dolls. Nettie whisked Ivy away to spend the evening reading, so the trio were left to their own devices for the time being.

  “Does she have a name?” asked Helena, picking up a beautiful, rosy-cheeked doll from where she sat on a little chair in the corner.

  “Yes, Melinda.” Alice took her favorite doll from her friend and cradled Melinda close. She never liked the other girls touching her babies without permission. It wasn’t done. “Let’s put them to bed now.”

  They did, and Helena said, “Now, our papa would come in and kiss us good night.”

  Rosalind smiled and patted a blanket down over her doll. “Does your papa come every night after your mama tucks you in and kisses you, Alice? Our papa always does.”

  “I haven’t any.”

  The sisters stared at her, and Alice wondered what she’d said wrong. Her stomach did an odd squirming thing.

  “What?” Helena narrowed her eyes.

  Unsure now, Alice nodded. “I … I don’t have a father. Mummy says some have them, but I don’t. I never have.”

  “Why, you’ve got to have one!” Rosalind said. “Just about everyone does, I think.”

  “I don’t,” Alice insisted.

  “Yes, you do. You don’t know who he is!” Helena’s tone turned from incredulous to taunting in an instant.

  “I don’t have one at all. There’s no need to know him since he doesn’t exist.” Alice frowned in confusion. “What do you mean ‘everyone has one’?”

  “Everyone does have one.” Rosalind folded her arms firmly across her chest, and Alice knew she wasn’t teasing. “I know, because I asked my mama once, and she said so. There’s no one who doesn’t have a father!”

  “Why, yes, there is. I don’t.” Alice persevered, becoming more and more puzzled. “We’ll go ask my mother, and she will tell you that I don’t.”

  “I’ll ask my mama, and she’ll say the same as I do,” said Helena. “Everyone’s got one!”

  “Not me,” said a flustered, unsure Alice. Helena and Rosalind didn’t—couldn’t—know what they were talking about.

  The door swung open, and Nettie walked in, hands on her hips. “Girls! What are you arguing about?”

  “Alice has got to have a father, hasn’t she?” Helena asked. Though she wasn’t an overly reverent child, she respected Nettie’s opinion.

  Alice understood. Nettie wasn’t one to ignore.

  Rosalind nodded. “She says she hasn’t any.”

  “I don’t!” Alice jumped to her feet. “I really don’t! Nettie will tell you.”

  Nettie hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “I could hardly say. However, Alice would be likely to know, as he is—or isn’t—her father. At any rate, it’s time for the Miss Lanskys to return home now.”

  The sisters scurried out of the room. Alice, thinking hard, dragged behind.

  Throughout the rest of the evening, she could think of nothing other than her conversation with Helena and Rosalind. It did indeed seem strange that she didn’t have a father, but she had always taken it for granted before.

  Of course, she knew that her mother was often gossiped about, and that was without knowing that Alice and her sister existed. So it seemed that the situation was unusual.

  It was worth hiding, after a
ll. Mummy always said that was because Alice and Ivy were too precious to be shared.

  What on earth does anyone need a father for? Alice had lived eight years quite well without one. However, apparently not having one was shameful.

  Alice hated to be thought of as shameful. Or to think that her mother was ashamed of her. Why couldn’t they live out in the open? Why did it have to be a secret?

  Why had the men down in the parlor looked at her like a being from another planet?

  In no time at all, Nettie had Alice and Ivy almost ready for bed. A story was administered—one of Ivy’s favorites, about the princess who rode a pumpkin to the ball and lost her glass slipper. Next, it was time for prayers.

  Kneeling beside her bed, Alice poured all her thoughts out in a rush. “Dear God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit, take care of me. Help me be patient even when it’s not easy. Take care of Mummy and Ivy and Uncle Charlie and Nettie. Make Mummy be a real Christian before she dies, so she can come be with us in Heaven. And … help Rosalind and Helena understand that I’m not bad and Mummy’s not bad. Because I don’t need a father. In Jesus’s name I pray. Amen.”

  Alice opened her eyes to find Nettie watching her from her seat at the end of the bed, mouth twisted oddly. “Gracie, what did those girls say to you?”

  She shrugged. “Not much. But they said everyone has a father—and they didn’t like that I don’t. I wondered if … Is that why Mummy won’t tell anyone about Ivy and me?”

  Nettie rose and walked to the fireplace. She watched the low flames flicker in the grate as she replied. “I’m surprised they haven’t brought it up earlier, I suppose. Even in innocence, they must know that something is missing.”

  Alice glanced at Ivy, whose blue eyes were wide with fright, then returned her gaze to Nettie. “Is … is something missing?”

  Nettie sighed. “I think … Gracie, as you get older, you’re going to have a lot of questions, and I can’t answer them. Your mother has asked me not to. But I can tell you that a lot of people would believe, foolishly in their prejudice, that you and Ivy are … a mistake. That’s ridiculous, because God created you both, and He doesn’t make mistakes.”

  “But what about a father? Does God make people without fathers?”

  She didn’t reply for a long time, and Alice started to feel frightened.

  “Nettie?”

  “No. No, He doesn’t. I can’t tell you more. I promised your mother, Gracie, and I won’t break that promise.” She turned from the fire. Her gray eyes were sad. “You have to be content with that. With not knowing.”

  Alice blinked. Content with not knowing? That was absurd. What earthly good was living if one couldn’t know or find out everything?

  “But—”

  “Shush. No buts. It’s your mother’s decision. You can discuss it with her.” Nettie crossed the room and patted Alice’s pillow. “Head here. Let’s get you two tucked in. I want to say an extra prayer tonight, then it’s time for sleep.”

  Alice wasn’t sure what to do, as she knew she could never sleep without knowing—but Nettie’s word was law. She hopped up on the bed and laid down. Ivy did the same.

  After tucking them in so tight Alice could barely move, Nettie leaned back. “Eyes closed, hands folded.”

  There was a moment of silence before she said a word—a moment that stretched on so long that Alice almost opened her eyes to make sure everything was all right.

  “Lord God, I pray for Ivy and Gra—and Alice. Life won’t be as easy for them as it is for most girls their age, but I know You are protecting and watching over them. I pray for Claire, their mother, as she navigates this situation alone.”

  “She’s not alone; she has us,” Ivy interrupted.

  Alice kicked her. Everyone knew speaking out of turn during a prayer was wicked.

  “Shush now.” Nettie’s voice was gentle but firm. “As I was saying, help Claire see what she needs to do—whether that is to remain silent or speak up. And guard her heart, as I know she is vulnerable today and will be for some time to come. Help her see You although she is determined not to.”

  There was another long silence.

  “And, lastly, I pray for myself, that I would have the wisdom to tell Alice and Ivy what they need to know while respecting Claire’s wishes. I pray that You would help me see what is best for my girls even if … even if sometimes the easiest route seems to be to tell the whole truth.” Nettie stopped again and took a deep breath.

  Alice opened her eyes. There were tears on her governess’s cheeks. She reached over and slid her hand over Nettie’s.

  She smiled a bit through the tears. “Thank You, also, for blessing me with such sweet girls in my life. I don’t know if I tell them often enough how much they mean to me. I can’t share everything with them; sometimes discretion is necessary, but I know they understand that I must remain silent for their own good. Help us all, Lord. Amen.”

  Nettie opened her eyes and quietly wiped away her tears.

  “Why’d you cry, Nettie?” Ivy asked.

  “I don’t know! Sometimes I get emotional about silly things.” She cocked her head. “You have to be patient with me—and with your mother—when we must cry. Sometimes it simply can’t be helped. It’s because we both love our Gracie-Alice and our Ivy so much—and neither of us feel that life is all it should be for them.”

  Nettie leaned over to kiss Alice’s forehead and squeezed Ivy’s hand where it lay against the counterpane. “But God has everything in control, and all will happen on His time, not on ours.”

  After the longest dinner party of her life, Claire dragged herself up the stairs. At last they had left—after all the barely-under-the-surface drama, the looks cast between various people, the snide comments from Mr. Parker, and the worried eyes of Mr. Knight.

  There was also Mrs. Knight, cheerful and charming and so very American. Claire wasn’t at all sure what to think of her. Could anyone be that kind?

  She paused outside the girls’ bedroom. She should go in and make sure all was well, though Nettie had everything in hand. Probably, they had been disturbed by the evening …

  Meeting new people. The confrontation with Parker. Being called Chattoway—when they’d only known Berck as a surname.

  Yes, she would make sure they were both asleep, peaceful and safe.

  She opened the door. The candle in her hand cast light on Alice, eyes wide open. She immediately shut them and buried her face in the pillow. Claire smiled. That girl.

  She tiptoed to the bedside and bent over to kiss Ivy, resting her hand on the dark-blonde locks for a moment. Next she came to Alice.

  “Why on earth are you still awake?” she whispered, setting the candle on the bedside table.

  A sigh emitted from her little troublemaker, and her eyes popped open. “I couldn’t sleep.” Alice reached up to put her arms around Claire’s neck and kissed her cheek.

  Claire sighed and leaned back. “Darling, you’ve got to sleep! Do you realize the time?” Far too late for a little girl to be up. Where was Nettie? Why hadn’t she watched them?

  Too much to do, she supposed. With such limited staff, they needed everyone to pitch in on duties they weren’t necessarily suited for.

  “Oh, it’s late.” Alice flipped her hand in a dreadfully adult way, apparently thinking it was an unimportant subject. “Mummy, the Lansky girls say everyone has a father. Why don’t I?”

  Well. Here it was. The moment of truth. Her inquisitive daughter couldn’t wait any longer before asking questions—questions Claire could never answer.

  There was too much at stake to let an eight-year-old know the truth.

  “Not everyone has a father.” It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. Not if she added further clarification of her idea of fatherhood—and how that place was not currently filled. “Not everyone has a mother, either. There is always a man and a woman who could have been your parents, but parents are only considered such if they care for their child. Your father … he might have li
ked you, but you never met.”

  Alice nodded slowly, her face wrinkled like an old woman’s. “But why? Why didn’t he ever meet me? If he could have been my father, why wouldn’t he?”

  “He would have, I think, but it just …” She sighed. “Darling, sometimes things happen, and we can’t stop them. The wrongs can’t be made right. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I’m protecting you by not telling you everything.”

  “But I want to know everything,” Alice whispered.

  Claire smiled weakly. “I know. I know, darling. And it’s going to be hard for you to understand. I love you, though, and Nettie loves you, and I think your Uncle Charlie loves you, though he can’t come see us often. It doesn’t matter that your father doesn’t.”

  Alice scowled. “I’ll talk to him and make him love me. Where is he? I need to meet him.”

  She would’ve laughed if it weren’t so pitifully impossible. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why? He’s my father, isn’t he?” Alice folded her arms across her chest. “I want to see him.”

  “But you can’t.” She forced her tone to be soft and understanding rather than clipped and frustrated. Claire wanted Alice to meet him, too, under the right circumstances. She wished things had turned out differently.

  But they hadn’t. There was no use in wishing for what couldn’t be.

  Alice flopped back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. “Well then. If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out for myself.”

  Claire chuckled a bit, as quietly as she could. That was something an eight-year-old could never do on her own. “All right, darling. Find out and tell him to come back to us.” She bent forward and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I want you to be happy, but I can’t do this for you.”

  “Why not? You’ve always done things for me before!”

  Yes, that was the perspective of a child. Mummy could do anything. But what did one say to a question like that? Taking a deep breath, she worked her way through the next sentence a word at a time. “He … doesn’t want me anymore. A woman can’t throw herself at a man’s feet like that. Especially given our circumstances. You’ll … you’ll understand when you’re older.”