The Dressmaker's Secret (The Chronicles of Alice and Ivy Book 1) Page 7

When Claire walked into her room, she found the bed which Alice was to occupy empty. Alarmed, she glanced about before she saw Alice huddled in the corner.

  “Darling, it’s chilly with the fire dying down.” She crossed the room and held out her hand to her daughter. “You might catch cold sitting on the floor.”

  Alice stood and held out her arms. “Is Ivy getting better, Mummy?”

  There were tears on Alice’s eyelashes, and Claire hastened to draw her close. “Oh, Alice, I believe so. At least a bit. But the doctor … At least she’s breathing better. Nettie says that God is in control.” She didn’t know what else to say. In truth, it was easier to fall back on some all-powerful Being rather than simply saying, “This life is arbitrary and cruel, and I don’t know.”

  Alice nodded fervently, plainly having heard such verbatim before. “Yes, Mummy! He’ll take good care of Ivy, unless He needs her. Do you think He needs Ivy in Heaven, Mummy?”

  “I … I don’t know.” She couldn’t imagine what Ivy would be needed for there, unless it was to be the sweetest angel the pearly gates ever welcomed. Though she supposed that old wives’ tale about children turning into angels wasn’t factual—assuming any of it was.

  She could see a use for such a sweet girl anywhere. And that was what scared her. Ivy could possibly be taken away as too good for this world … and certainly too good for Claire.

  She shuddered.

  Alice suddenly burst into tears. “I wish He needed me instead!” She sobbed, throwing herself into Claire’s embrace.

  She held Alice tightly until she began to pull away, then drew out a handkerchief to wipe Alice’s face and her own. It was good that they both had a quick cry before bed—especially Alice. The poor child tended to bottle up her emotions, especially if she was anxious about something.

  Alice attempted a smile. “God will take care of Ivy, but I just … I just don’t want Him to take her away. I love her.”

  Claire squeezed her daughter’s arm. “Shush, now. No more worrying. I’m sure … I’m sure He won’t. I’m going to stay up with her tonight and make sure He doesn’t.” It was beyond her power, but an eight-year-old child wouldn’t know that, right?

  Alice frowned. “You can’t make God do anything, Mummy, but thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

  She stared incredulously at her daughter before choking out a reply. “Y-you’re right, Alice, but we must only be strong enough for today. So let’s not borrow trouble. What will be will be.”

  “That’s what Nettie says. Everything’s going to be all right, because God writes the pages of our book.” Alice tried to look cheerful, but Claire could tell she was fading fast. “I suppose it’ll all work out.”

  “I hope it will.” Claire stood and went to the basin. “Come now. Let’s wash your face, and then it’s time for bed. Nettie will come in as soon as I leave to check on you, but I’ll say good night now.”

  “All right,” said Alice, “but I shan’t sleep. Not when Ivy is sick. I will stay up all night and pray.” She was blustering in that unique Alice way that usually made Claire feel like laughing. It was as if one of the more self-important Dickens characters hopped off the pages and into her child’s body and began insisting everything should go according to their plans.

  But it was useless to argue when Alice was in this mood. “Of course you shall. I would expect nothing less of a dutiful sister.” Claire wrung out the rag in her hand and turned to mop it over Alice’s face. “There. Into the bed you go.”

  Her chin jerked up. “I think I’ll stay in my chair, thank you.”

  “Don’t you think praying in bed is much better?”

  Alice hesitated. “Why?”

  “Because it is. Everyone knows that.”

  After a stare down that lasted for who knows how long, Alice nodded slowly. “All right. But I won’t go to sleep. I’m going to stay up all night.”

  “Right. Like any good sister.” Claire turned to the bed. “Hop up. I’ll get you tucked in.”

  A suspicious look appeared on her face. “I don’t need tucked in.”

  “You need to be cozy to pray properly.”

  This was when Alice started to catch on. “I do not! You think I’ll fall asleep, but—”

  “Prove me wrong. Into the bed.”

  Reluctantly, Alice plopped down on her pillow and scowled up at Claire. “I won’t—”

  “Sleep. I know.” Claire bent and kissed Alice’s forehead. “I love you.”

  Alice answered this with another glare. She was apparently determined to do something noble, and Claire hoped she would pray—if prayers helped at all—but she would fall asleep.

  It was the effort that counted, wasn’t it? Who knew except God, if He had rules about these sorts of things.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, darling.”

  Chapter Eight

  The crisis was arriving, the doctor said. They would clear Ivy’s lungs and banish the fever tonight—or not at all.

  Claire’s arms shook as she adjusted the poultice on her daughter’s chest. She almost dropped the cloth bundle, and the doctor glared at her.

  “Why don’t you sit down, Miss Berck? There’s nothing much you can do.” He was young, and often his tone leaked with sarcasm, probably believing her to be everything she wasn’t—and, at the same time, everything she was.

  So she did take a seat, near the bed, watching the trembling rise of Ivy’s chest.

  “What are her chances?” she asked.

  “They’re decent, but I’m no miracle worker,” the doctor replied brusquely. It was clear his proper bedside manner was not gifted to working women like her who possessed illegitimate children. At least, that appeared to be his perspective of them.

  She couldn’t blame him. A decade ago she had assumed the worst of others whenever something was not as it should be. Better to believe the worst than look for a proper explanation.

  Claire didn’t fight it. She just sat there. Let him believe what he would. She would neither confirm nor deny—she would not protest to the point of guilt nor tell him he was right—that she was a woman without a husband raising her daughters alone.

  If he chose to spread gossip, which she didn’t doubt he would, her business would cease to exist overnight. But he seemed to have a few ideas to keep Ivy breathing, and that was enough for Claire. If Ivy lived, there was nothing else to be wished for.

  Nettie seemed to be praying again—or that was the only reason Claire could think that she would be kneeling beside the bed with her hands clasped and her eyes closed.

  Insanity. It might not make a difference. A dismal outlook on life—yet, her maid, and even Alice and Ivy, believed He was a kind and loving God.

  There it was again—the desire to pray, to ask, even if the answer was negative. To find some peace in the situation regardless of the outcome.

  Dear Lord. She didn’t say the words aloud, but she let them echo about her heart. Lord God, let my child live. Please don’t take her. I live for her. She swallowed. I suppose Nettie would say I need to live for You, but … I can’t. You’ve taken so much from me. So please … please don’t take Ivy. Nettie has told me more than once that we can’t bargain with You, and I know because I’ve tried, and it never works. But I can beg, and so I’m begging. Show me. If You can, let me keep her. And if You must take her, then give me the strength to bear it. Give me the courage.

  She waited for a rush of peace or a thunderbolt or words of guidance spelled out in air before her, but nothing came. Instead, the room remained quiet other than Ivy’s raspy breathing and Nettie’s murmured prayers.

  Still, her soul was calmer, and within her, there was something new—acceptance. The knowledge that what would be would be, and perhaps, just perhaps, a tremor of hope that told her that no matter the outcome, it would be all right. Painful, difficult, and frightening, yes, but a road she must and would travel, one way or another. It would seem that faith, hope, and love made it easier.

&nb
sp; That’s what Nettie said.

  Claire wondered, with a little smile, if she was becoming spiritual but decided that, rather, she was becoming a little bit mad. She rose from her seat to sit on the edge of Ivy’s bed and hold her hand. She would be there, near her daughter. Ivy would feel her presence as she … as she faced this crisis.

  She didn’t want to think of death and of the strength and determination it would take to face that. So many children died, and Ivy was so weak.

  The doctor was here now. He knew how to make small children better. And, even though he was a dour, irritating, judgmental man, between the poultice and the medicine he’d given her, they had half a chance at reviving Ivy.

  The night wound on, long and laborious. After half an hour, Ivy was launched into a coughing fit that brought up a great deal of distasteful liquid, and that seemed to improve her breathing. Her fever worsened after the coughing, but they kept her cool despite her insistence in brief moments of consciousness that she was freezing.

  When the fever broke and she seemed to rest, the doctor looked more annoyed than Claire was willing to bear. He removed his thermometer from Ivy’s mouth, checked it, and shrugged. “Strange how resilient children like her are while little lords and ladies die every day.” He wiped the instrument off and placed it in his bag. “She’ll do all right.”

  Claire shouldn’t have asked, but she couldn’t resist. “‘Children like her’?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Misbegotten, unfathered, baseborn. I’ll stop there. You don’t deny it, do you, Miss Berck? She clearly resembles you—you’re ‘Mummy,’ and goodness knows who ‘Papa’ is.”

  Claire raised her chin, refusing to let the fury sparking in her chest reach her words. “I don’t deny that she is my child.” She kept her words quiet. “I thank you for your help in saving her, though not for your compassion in the act. Now, have you done all you can? Will she recover?”

  “Probably.” He huffed. “But not through any merit of blood. Resilient, like all mutts.”

  Out of the corner of her eyes, Claire saw Nettie twitch as if, like Claire, she wanted to rip the man’s face off. But that wasn’t possible. Anger and violence would only make it worse. “Then leave. Nettie, pay the man for his efforts and show him out.”

  He rolled his eyes and picked up his bag. “Wait ’til my wife hears about this nonsense …” he mumbled to himself as he walked out the door.

  Once again, Claire sat on the edge of Ivy’s bed and watched her child sleep. Lord, thank You for allowing us to keep her. Now, please don’t let that dreadful man steal our livelihood and my reputation …

  Alice dashed into her bedroom early one afternoon a few weeks later, Mummy following her. Though Ivy was still bedridden, she had been gaining ground rapidly, and there was no reason to believe she couldn’t be on her feet within days.

  “Hello, Alice.” Ivy shifted so she sat up and held out her arms. “You were gone all morning, and I missed you, but I had my doll and Kitty, until she ran away.”

  Alice walked to her sister’s bedside. “How are you feeling?”

  Ivy smiled. “Oh, much better. Mummy says I can go for a walk in the park soon. She says I need fresh air. Isn’t that so, Mummy?”

  “It is so. Fresh air and sunshine would be the quickest cure. And we’ll get it for you, even if we have to drive out of London for it.” Mummy sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on Ivy’s forehead for a moment.

  “Do I feel all right?” Ivy asked.

  “Just perfect.” Their mother smiled and leaned back. “Mrs. Bennett will bring up trays in just a bit, and we’ll have our luncheon together. How does that sound?”

  Ivy wriggled with delight. Alice guessed she was starting to feel a bit shut in after all that lying about. “Lovely! Will Nettie be here, too?”

  “Of course.” Mummy squeezed Ivy’s hand. “Now remember, we must do our best to eat everything on our plate so we can grow strong again.”

  Ivy nodded solemnly. “Yes, Mummy.”

  Nettie entered the room. “Claire, there’s a letter for you.”

  Mummy glanced up, and her brow furrowed. “I’m busy at the moment. Can it wait?”

  “I thought you’d want to see it now—it’s from Pearlbelle Park.”

  Alice saw a sudden rush of pink in her mother’s cheeks before they paled. Mummy held out her hand for the letter and, once Nettie handed it to her, hastily opened it.

  Nettie cocked her head. “I thought it might be from Miss Elton. You were close in school.”

  Mummy glanced up and laughed. “She amused me, and I awed her—foolish, bold girl that I was. But that was when we were children, and we haven’t spoken since.” She shrugged and flipped over the sheet of paper. “You’re right. It is from her.”

  “Interesting. Mr. Parker must’ve given her the address.” Nettie folded her arms over her chest. “That man can’t mind his own business. Surely he has other things to do—children to abandon, houses to burn …”

  “My opinion of him isn’t that narrow, but, yes, he does tend to interfere.” Mummy shook her head and returned her eyes to the letter.

  After a moment, she looked up from the page, eyes glistening with tears. “She heard of Ivy’s illness—and her slow recovery. She invited us to Pearlbelle Park, with Mr. Knight’s permission, so Ivy can … can rest.”

  “Pearlbelle Park?” Alice jumped up. “Is that in the country? Mummy, are we really going to the country?”

  Nettie smiled so broadly it seemed her face would crack. “Claire, it’s an answer to prayer.”

  Mummy threw back her head and laughed, really laughed. “Surprisingly, it is. We’re to come out with Mr. Parker in a few weeks, if we’re able.” Her face darkened. “I … I can’t. I have to stay here in London, but you will take the girls?”

  Nettie hesitated. “Me, alone?”

  “Yes, well, you’ll have Mr. Parker with you, much as you dislike him, and it’s not a long journey.” Mummy slid the letter back in the envelope. “He’s not a bad man, and he’ll take care of you. I trust him that much. Please, Nettie—Ivy needs the country air, and, if I can get them out of the city now …” She paused and cocked her head.

  Alice couldn’t resist interrupting now. “Please, Nettie! I’ve never been to the countryside, and I would love to!”

  “Well, I suppose. It’s not far from London,” Nettie conceded. “Still, Mr. Parker can be difficult.”

  “Yes, but bear it for the girls’ sake.” Mummy stood in her “this matter is decided” way. “I’ll go see what’s keeping Mrs. Bennett, then I’ll have to jot down a message letting Lois know we’ll be coming.”

  After Mummy left, Alice turned to Nettie. “Who is Lois?”

  “That’s Miss Elton to you, Miss Grace.” Nettie playfully tugged on a lock of Alice’s hair. “She’s a friend of your mother’s. I suppose she never married, and so she lives at Pearlbelle with her cousins who own the estate now that her father has passed away. Poor dear must be terribly alone.”

  “What’s Pearlbelle Park?” Ivy asked.

  Alice rolled her eyes, because everyone knew that something with a name like Pearlbelle Park must be a big, fancy estate, like one she’d read about in books, but Nettie didn’t seem to think it a stupid question.

  “It’s the home of the Eltons—the Knights now, I suppose. It’s a lovely, big property with acres and acres of gardens and fields and tenants … You’ll like it. Ivy, there’s a library we’ll explore, and you’ll love the fountains in the garden. And, Alice, you’ll meet the horses at the stables.”

  Alice had to keep herself from clapping her hands like a child. She was far too old for that. “Oh, Nettie! Will I learn to ride?” She’d only petted horses she met on the street but certainly never been on one.

  “Perhaps. We’ll see.” Nettie smiled. “I hope you will get to. And, even if you don’t, we can visit them.”

  “Did Mummy ever ride the horses there? When she visited, I mean,” Alice asked.
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  “She did, but you know your mummy isn’t quite the horsewoman you’re sure to be.” Nettie winked. “Oh, here’s Mrs. Bennett. Let’s have our luncheon!”

  For half of the journey by train and throughout the five-mile carriage ride to the estate from the station at the village, Creling, Mr. Parker told them about Pearlbelle Park. Thankfully, Alice managed to, she thought, tactfully bring up the horse situation, which he seemed optimistic about. In fact, his eyes lit up in a way that made her think he loved horses just as much as she did. Alice’s excitement grew by leaps and bounds.

  Even Nettie’s attitude, strangely sour, couldn’t dampen her enthusiasm.

  The carriage drove up to a three-story, marble-pillared mansion gleaming white in the sunshine. Alice was handed out by a footman. She cast her eyes about wildly, unsure what to take in first. The grand building was so tall that she had to tilt her head back to see the top.

  She smiled. She was going to stay in a palace. Oh, who knew what secrets it might hold! Hidden passages, attics full of old relics, basements haunted by ghosts … There was a world of possibilities.

  Alice was looking for Rapunzel’s tower, which she knew must be there somewhere, when Nettie put a hand on her shoulder and told her to close her mouth.

  They walked into a huge entryway. The ceiling, painted with little baby angels playing golden harps on fluffy clouds, was three stories above Alice’s head. There was so much to look at that Alice didn’t even notice the white-haired butler who greeted them.

  As she was being led down the hall by Mr. Parker, she saw only the walls. The next thing she knew, Alice was standing in a large parlor.

  A woman about her mother’s age with sable hair and brown eyes stood to greet them. Her large mouth, small nose, and wide eyes gave her a clownish appearance. She walked over and tilted Alice’s chin up with a small, white hand.

  “Oh my! She doesn’t resemble Claire very closely, does she?” asked Miss Lois Elton. She reached behind Alice for Ivy. “Oh, but this one’s her mother’s mirror image. You’re Ivy, aren’t you?”