Katherine's Story, 1848 by Adele Whitby

Author:Adele Whitby
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Simon Spotlight

Elizabeth rushed to a seat next to Alfred when we entered the dining room. Maxwell took my arm and led me in the same direction. I thought that he, once again, must have confused me with my sister. Our hair was drawn into identical styles with none of my waves to give me away, and we had both changed our dresses.

Maxwell pulled a chair out for me. “Sit here, Lady Katherine,” he said.

With a start, I realized that Maxwell had known who I was even though my twin and I were both wearing our pendants under our dresses. Maxwell, like Mama and Essie, was able to tell us apart. It was astonishing that he could do so, when even Papa could not.

I was about to remark on that when Henry Vandermeer made an announcement about the missing portrait and asked all the guests if they had seen anything. “Anything at all,” he said, “even if it seemed unimportant in the moment.”

I watched all the guests carefully, looking for a telltale smirk or shifty eyes, but everyone seemed genuinely shocked. No one remembered seeing any unusual activity in the parlor and most of the guests had been in and out of the house all morning—visiting other friends in Bridgeport, strolling in the gardens, or walking to the ocean, as we had.

Anna DuMay hadn’t come downstairs for lunch.

“She wants to finish her story before the wedding,” Samuel had said when he joined us. “She’s been scribbling away all morning. I don’t think she stopped for breakfast, and no doubt her lunch will remain uneaten, too.”

I was surprised that no one had told Anna about the missing portrait. Surely this was grounds for disturbing the writer at her work.

Even Samuel seemed distressed about the disappearance of the portrait, but when a search of the house and grounds was organized, I noticed that he slipped away without offering to help.

I thought about Miss Millhouse and the missing jewels. She had led a careful search of the entire house, and I proposed we do the same. Elizabeth, Maxwell, and I explored the house’s main level, while Alfred, Papa, and Alfred’s father took the upstairs rooms and Mr. Baxter supervised a search of the grounds, including the stables. None of us found the portrait, or even a clue as to what had happened to it.

We gathered in the parlor an hour later. Alfred looked sadly up at the blank space on the wall. The paper that had covered the portrait for all those years was much brighter than the wallpaper surrounding it, allowing us to clearly see the outline of where the portrait should be.

I shared again about the voices I had heard in the night.

“Did you recognize the voice?” Henry Vandermeer asked.

I shook my head. “It was very deep and gravelly,” I said. “And angry. I was quite frightened by it.”

Papa shook his head. “Deep and gravelly could describe any number of people—servants and guests.”

“I will recognize it if I hear it again,” I told them.

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