A Lady In Disguise

To sit in front of your grandfather was not entirely the same as having a chat with your grandmother, most particularly if you were planning to talk about a very peculiar topic.

Valerie and Violet, twins, were thinking how they could convince their grandfather to talk more freely about the Town, a place they've read about in their grandmother's eight handwritten and unpublished stories, the very same ones they found merely weeks ago

in their grandparents' old cabin by the woods.

Since reading all eight stories, they have been filled with questions and they barely got any answer from their grandmother who had not even shared why she never tried to have the stories published.

She wrote about the Town as if she truly lived there. It was as if the woman wrote the stories entirely for herself, to have a physical copy of her memories there.

But the idea of the Town seemed preposterous.

Thinking about it now, the twins could barely grasp the idea of an underground world hundreds of feet below with people who chose to live their lives trapped in an era that had long been forgotten aboveground, an era where gowns and balls were not merely a part of history books, but of daily lives; carriages the most common form of transport; electricity a new discovery; castes were distinctly observed and many other things humanity once had lived with but now reduced to mere fairytales.

But as far-fetched as the Town may seem, the twins could not help but feel confused. Their grandmother's stories of the infamous Everards and their struggles with life, family, friends, society and love, all felt incredible yet true that they would not be surprised now if they would stumble upon a giant cone-shaped wall somewhere in the middle of the woods, climb on it and find themselves looking into a hole, one of the many that were scattered all over the Town to offer ventilation, light for vegetation and a scenic view for other social events or otherwise. They had also agreed that should they find such hole, they

would not hesitate to attach themselves to a harness and descend down on a lake, an estate or one of the vast plantations of the Town. Just like how Mr. Jones might have done it if he was indeed true as what most of the townspeople believed.

Having read all eight handwritten books, having witnessed through their grandmother's writings how the Everards surpassed society's ire when one of them married his sisters' governess, when the other eloped with a woman betrothed to another and married in Tiny Town, when the other successfully rekindled an old flame, how one married the man of her dreams and many other things the family had to go through-good and bad, joyful and tragic-Valerie and Violet was eager to know more about the Everards and the Town itself.

Add the fact that their grandmother had chosen to write herself in most of the stories and the twins surely found themselves with so many unanswered questions. And to add more reasons for the two young women's eagerness, Fiona Trilby also wrote in some of the pages about a young man who would then turn to be the very same old man eating pudding in front of them many years later, here, aboveground and not down there where the Town was supposed to be.

Their grandmother had indicated as much that the characters were true-that they all lived-but how true was the Town and its underground world of carriages, manors, rakes, lords and ladies, conniving stepmothers, crazy gossipmongers and their crazier scandals, secret passages, bandits and even dirty politics and mysterious history? How true was it that all the things they had read all happened

underground?

Was it really just a mix of reality and fiction or was it all real?

Their grandmother, they fear, was enjoying the torment and the twins could see that by the sparkle in her blue eyes as she quietly stared at them from the other side of the table as they looked at their grandfather like journalists starving for a good story of a man who had just arrived after a year in outer space.

They flew all the way to visit their grandparents and discover more of the stories of not just the Everards but of the others presented in the other books.

And the Town, of course.

Their grandfather Eddie was devouring his piece of the pudding after a long afternoon playing chess with his so-called friends and the twins knew that the man knew what they were thinking.

They tried to be more patient, considering how he could easily be set off-topic.

"So, gramp," Valerie started, smiling, tucking her dark hair behind one ear. "What do you think about the Everards? You've met them, right? You were in Margaret's story."

Their grandfather looked up to study them with dark eyes, a stark contrast to his greying hair. "Hmm," he said, turning to look at his wife. "I figure your grandmother did not tell you what you wanted."

Violet answered, "She will in time. I am sure of it."

Fiona Trilby simply smiled.

When their grandfather looked back at them both, he said, "The Everards..."

The twins waited but the man did not continue.

"Yes. Who did you like the most?" Valerie urged.

He shrugged. "I liked Cole the best."

"But he was not

an Everard!" Violet said.

"He married into the Everards," Valerie provided.

"Ah, yes, of course," he said with a chuckle. "Well, I liked the ladies the most. They were quite fun."

"And among the men?"

Their grandmother laughed while her husband groaned. "I would rather not choose, believe me."

"But we want to know!"

"Is it Ralph? He is closest to your age since he is the youngest of all the brothers," Valerie asked.

"No," their grandfather said, shaking his head. "And I was way younger than him."

"Benedict?" asked Violet. "I like Benedict."

"He was often away in Devonshire. No, it is not him."

"Levi?"

"Too bloody beautiful."

The twins snorted. "Then who? Between Maxwell and Nicholas, I bet you liked-"

"Nick," said Eddie Trilby. "I liked Nick the most."

The twins turned to their grandmother. "Was he a rake like Nick?" Valerie asked, pointing at the old man before her.

Their grandmother shook her head as she lovingly stared at her husband. "Not quite."

"Nick shared amazing stories of his travels from all over the Town," their grandfather pointed out. "And he is quite an easy man to be with than Max. That bloke was too bloody difficult to read."

"I like Max," Violet admitted. "He is an alluring, cynical bastard," she added with a chuckle.

Their grandfather rolled his eyes. "I do agree with the last two words, dear. The alluring part I will consider."

"You were intimidated by him, were you not?" asked Valerie in a teasing voice.

"Intimidated?" Eddie Trilby asked in disbelief. He stared at his wife incredulously. "I have told you that you painted me wrong in those books."

Fiona Trilby shrugged. "They were about the Everards, dear, not you or the rest of the Trilbys. I had to paint you how you were when I was at a certain age."

"You mean eight," said Valerie. "You were eight when you appeared first in Margaret's story."

Their grandfather had a knowing look on his face. "I know dear. No one would dare forget that."

He looked over at his wife and they both shared a gentle look, one that spoke of years of both pain and joy.

Violet was staring at their grandparents. "So, can you at least tell us if whether or not it is true that you are cousins? Because it would entirely change our lives if it is."

Their grandfather, like he always did, threw his head back and laughed. Slowly, as his laughter died down, he stood up from his chair. "Fee, dear, is there any tea left?"

"Yes, of course," his wife said, coming to her feet.

Valerie and Violet groaned with frustration.

"The two of you are the worst storytellers ever," Valerie called out to them.

"Will you at least tell us about the Trilbys?" Violet asked.

"Will you ever tell us anything?" Valerie asked with a groan.

Their grandfather looked over his shoulder as his wife walked past him to go to the kettle.

His wrinkled eyes glimmering, he mouthed, "Later."