Discover the chilling secrets surrounding Maggie O’Brien’s disappearance from Chatswood Manor in the third book of an irresistibly entertaining historical fiction mystery series. Elizabeth and Katherine Chatswood are on the verge of turning twelve years old, which means that the grandest birthday ball in all of England is just a few weeks away! Chatswood Manor is bustling with activity, but in the midst of all the excitement, an Irish refugee named Sean O’Brien shows up in search of his long lost wife Maggie, who was employed at Chatswood Manor many years ago. Mr. O’Brien is turned away by Chatswood’s stern butler, but not before Elizabeth and Katherine hear his story. Through Mr. O’Brien they also find out about the potato famine in Ireland, and are shocked and saddened to hear that so many people are suffering in a place that’s not that far away. The twins vow to not only help Mr. O’Brien find Maggie, but also to somehow help the people of Ireland. But how are two young girls in a manor home in England going to help starving people in Ireland? After their papa tells them it’s not their problem to worry about fixing, they have no choice but to come up with a very ambitious—and very top secret—plan. Meanwhile, as they investigate Maggie’s disappearance, they uncover some startling clues, which lead them to discover even deeper mysteries hidden within Chatswood Manor. Adele Whitby wishes she lived in a grand manor home with hidden rooms and tucked-away nooks and crannies, but instead she lives in the next best thing—a condo in Florida with her husband and their two dogs, Molly and Mack. When she’s not busy writing, you can usually find her reading and relaxing on the beach under a big umbrella. She loves getting lost in a good story, especially one set in a faraway place and time. Elizabeth’s Story, 1848 I rolled over and stretched, enjoying the coziness of my silk down comforter. A housemaid had already been in to build up my fire, the gentle warmth it gave off welcome on these chilly June mornings. I could almost hear the house, Chatswood Manor, waking with me, ready to greet another day. I knew that downstairs, servants were going about their morning routines, quietly bustling about, opening curtains, building fires, dusting, and cleaning. Our cook, Mrs. Fields, was no doubt scolding the kitchen maids to work more efficiently to whip eggs or slice bread for our breakfast, and Mr. Fellows, the butler, would be instructing the footmen on their tasks for the day before reading the newspaper and finishing his own breakfast in the servants’ dining room. Mr. Fellows made a point of talking to Papa about the news of the day every morning when he served our meal in the family dining room. Early morning was my favorite time of day. For a few moments every morning, when my mind was no longer asleep but not quite fully awake, I could almost forget that Mama had died just a few weeks ago. But then, as always, I remembered. That now-familiar sinking feeling crept into my chest and settled in my heart. Next came the sting of tears behind my eyelids. I sat up and reached for the silken bellpull that would call my lady’s maid, Essie Bridges. I promised myself that I would stop this, I thought, wiping my eyes. And more important, I promised Katherine. We made a vow to be strong for each other, and for Papa. It was as if Katherine, my twin, could read my thoughts. At that moment, she walked through the dressing closet that connected our two bedchambers and leaned against the wall, a sleepy half smile on her face. Her eyes, too, had a trace of tears. Katherine and I were so nearly identical that only Mama could tell us apart in an instant. The only obvious physical difference between us was in our hair: Katherine’s had a lovely natural wave while mine was stick straight. I envied Katherine that wave she had in her hair, while Katherine envied the fact that I was a half inch taller than she and five minutes older. I teased her that I would gladly give her my half inch in height if she would give me her wavy hair. “I just heard Papa’s valet in the hall instructing Mrs. Cosgrove to meet us in the library after breakfast. We’re going to discuss the guest list for the birthday ball,” Katherine said. “We’d better ring for Essie.” “I was just about to,” I said, reaching again for the bellpull. The pull was connected to a bell in the servants’ hall downstairs, where our ladies’ maid, Essie, would hear it and come to our aid. Essie had been with Katherine and me since we were very young. We loved her dearly. It was Essie who helped to dry our tears after Mama died and Essie who always knew just what to say when we were feeling down or scared. She wasn’t a blood relative, of course, but she was as much family to us as we were to each other. I can still remember the first time Katherine and I met Essie. Essie has told me that I was too little to really remember all of these details, but I swear I do! Kather