House of Silence

by Sarah Barthel

  “You are my mother. Why can’t you protect me instead of my reputation, for once?”

  “I am protecting you,” Mother hissed. She stepped toward me. “You have no idea what will become of you if you accuse that innocent gentleman. Not only will you ruin your marriage, but your entire life as well. Your friends will shun you socially. Young men will not ever look at you. Your wealth and connections will mean little. Not only that, my friends and confidants will despise me as well. Merchants will no longer take our credit, theaters will close their doors to us, even our Uncle Walter may disown us. You seem to believe I am only concerned for your future with Gregory, but I am actually worried about your life. Because of that, we are done with this nonsense. You will say nothing more on the topic. When in public, if you wish for heated words, I demand you stay silent. I’ll hear not another word against Gregory or of that dead serving girl. I’d rather live in silence than discuss this again. Do I make myself clear?”

  As she spoke, I stepped back from her, practically falling onto my window seat. I adjusted myself so I sat with dignity, but her words tore tiny holes in my determination. Would my friends really turn their backs on me? Would Uncle Walter? I couldn’t imagine such a future.

  Mother raised an eyebrow at me and I nodded in response. I understood what she said.

  “Very good. Good night, Isabelle.” Her skirts swept the floor as she left me alone. One candle remained lit on the bedside table. Its flame flickered in the evening darkness, wavering along with my resolve.

  If I was going to avoid marriage to Gregory I’d have to do something drastic. Mother had to believe she’d broken me. That she’d pushed me too far.

  CHAPTER 7

  Setting my easel up on the front lawn, I laid out my paints on the side table and took my seat. With great show to Mother, who was sitting on the porch drinking lemonade, I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my blouse and raised my skirt so my ankles were exposed to the sunlight. Despite it all, she didn’t even flinch. I grimaced, but pulled out the painting of a tree I’d started long ago and grabbed a paintbrush.

  All week Mother left me to my own devices and seemed not to notice my behavior. She told everyone of my vicious attack and thus all my evening commitments were excused.

  The tree I had been working on for months was nearly done. Its leaves were multiple shades of green, the grass illuminated its shadow, and the cobblestone street only needed more outlining. The image reflected a world that I couldn’t see anymore. I glanced at Mother and gritted my teeth. Perhaps she could ignore me, but she wouldn’t let me make a spectacle on our lawn. Swallowing my pride, I dipped the brush in red paint.

  Finally, Mother could stand it no longer. She rose from her rocking chair and crossed the yard to me. Clasping my shoulder, she demanded, “Isabelle! What on earth are you doing?”

  Not flinching at her grip, I continued to add red to the tree so that it appeared as if it were bleeding over our lawn instead of basking in the sun. The more I dabbed, the tighter her grasp became, but I was determined to continue.

  “I was going to hang this in the parlor and now look at it.” She released her grip and knelt beside me. “Please, Isabelle. Stop this. Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.” Her voice was soft, but I continued to paint.

  As I mixed a darker shade of red to add to my painting, a large blue carriage turned the corner and came down the lane. The two brown horses pulled to a stop in front of our house.

  A smile spread across my face. I recognized the footman instantly as Lucy’s. She had come to visit. It felt like forever since I’d seen her despite only being a few days. I’d been foolish not to tell her the whole story. Lucy would believe me. But, even as I thought that, I realized I couldn’t speak to her, not in front of Mother at any rate. Dropping my paintbrush in the water jug, I took a deep breath. I approached the coach, but froze when the door swung open, revealing a disheveled Mrs. D’Havland instead of Lucy. Her hat pin was loose and her brooch fastened on the wrong side. But that wasn’t what concerned me. Her eyes were rimmed in red, and she continuously wrung her hands as if disturbed.

  Stepping out of the carriage, she scanned the yard until her eyes landed on Mother and me. Mother stepped forward to greet her friend, but Mrs. D’Havland bounded past her until she was face to face with me.

  “You!” she exclaimed. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t given my Lucy that horrible idea, none of this would be happening.”

  Mother looked at me with narrowed eyes. “What has happened?”

  “Your daughter has ruined my Lucia,” Mrs. D’Havland sniffed. “Mr. Stewart asked permission to court Lucy and, after we consented, he came by twice this week. His earnestness and extravagant gifts left little doubt to his intentions. I was planning to announce their engagement within the month. But at his visit this very morning, my daughter stood before us all and declared that she could marry no one but that Patrick boy, for she no longer possessed her virtue.”

  Only the threat of engagement to that horrible Mr. Stewart could force Lucy to act on my foolish idea. Sweet Lucy was ruined permanently. Mrs. D’Havland was right, it was my fault. I hated that Lucy was put in such a spot, and yet a strange pride trickled through me. Lucy had taken control of her life. I’d never cared for her more. Mother stepped between me and Mrs. D’Havland. “Not sweet Lucy!”

  Putting up a hand, Mrs. D’Havland continued. “After everyone had left and Lucia was properly punished, she finally explained where she came up with the horrible idea to make up such a lie.”

  Following Mrs. D’Havland’s gaze, Mother looked at me. “Isabelle?” she whispered. “It isn’t possible. Isabelle would sooner set herself aflame than hurt Lucy.”

  “Nevertheless, that is where the lie began.” Mrs. D’Havland pulled herself to stand her proper height and glared down at me. “You are never to speak to Lucy again. We are sending her away tomorrow to visit family in New York. Perhaps Mr. Stewart will forgive her, but if he doesn’t, she’ll find a match out East and settle down there. Either way, I’ll have no more of your meddling; I don’t care what happened to you. You are to stay away from my family.”

  I knew she spoke the truth. They would keep Lucy either locked up or fully engaged from now until her move so that I’d never be able to see her again, neither for a farewell hug nor to apologize for the horrible fate my advice pushed upon her. Lucy and I were nothing more than pawns in our families’ quest for societal power. It was silly for us to think we were anything more than that or had any ability to make our own moves. My stupidity had cost me and Lucy everything. It was more than I could bear.

  Mother stepped between the two of us and put a hand on Mrs. D’Havland’s arm. “I’m sure Isabelle meant no harm. Don’t all girls have such thoughts from time to time?”

  If Mrs. D’Havland’s eyes had been cold before, they were nothing compared to the gaze she bestowed upon Mother now. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, Fanny? If you are going to defend your daughter’s terrible thoughts, then you are little better than she. I’ll be glad to be rid of your social company as well.”

  Mrs. D’Havland climbed back into her coach and instructed her footman to leave. Once the carriage was no longer audible, Mother put her hands on my shoulders and guided me toward the house. I made it as far as the front parlor before I yanked myself free. Frustration for my friend radiated through me. Mother refrained from reaching for me again.

  “Isabelle, pull yourself together.” Her voice betrayed her tears. She brushed the hair off my face and grabbed my cheeks. Instead of soothing me, her touch pushed further sorrow upon me. The pain of her betrayal shook my core. Hatred over Gregory’s actions made my face burn. But Lucy’s fate sent me into near convulsions. The tears were so strong I could hardly catch a breath.

  After a period of time, I know not how long, Mother called for Abigail to fetch the doctor and for our hired man to come carry me to bed.

  Once my sobs quieted and I lay
calmly in my bed, Dr. Carson examined me. When he was done, Mother left my side and met him in the hall. I could hear their low voices through the partially open door.

  “Well?” Mother insisted.

  Dr. Carson shook his head. “I can see nothing wrong with her physically. I suspect she has simply encountered too much shock in too short a period of time.”

  “But how do I help her? I can’t undo what happened.”

  “No, no one can do that. Perhaps she needs solitude for a period of time.” Dr. Carson’s medical bag locks clicked.

  Mother sighed. “Is there no more aggressive treatment? We just announced her engagement. There are parties and fittings every week for the next month or so. If I start canceling, people will talk. It could damage her future.”

  “My only other recommendation is to send her to a sanitarium. Just until she’s better. It is possible she’ll recover faster away from the familiar. I can’t be sure, of course.”

  I could imagine Mother wringing her hands and shaking her head. “Dr. Carson! How can you think of such things! She’ll be ruined!” Mother’s voice quivered.

  “Then give her time and rest to overcome this. I have not seen shock linger long when treated right.”

  “Rest. Yes, that will bring my girl back.” Mother’s voice became muffled as they walked down the hall and down the stairs.

  The implications of a sanitarium were too great for her to imagine: social ruin and ostracism for both of us. Once word got out where I was, no respectable man would marry me.

  No man would marry me.

  The thought stuck in my mind.

  CHAPTER 8

  Unless Mrs. D’Havland was lying, I had only one chance to see Lucy before she was sent east. Once Mother had retired for the night, I slipped out of the house and ran to our childhood meeting spot. If she was able to get away, I knew she’d go there.

  When we were still in school, we found an old abandoned cottage in the woods. It was shabby and sort of tilted backward, but it was ours. A place to play house when we were young and then to tell secrets as we got older.

  The weeds were high in Mr. Garvouch’s garden, but I pushed through. My ankle had almost healed, but it was tight as I made my way through the brush. I tried not to think of the nocturnal vermin that might be underfoot and invisible in the spring moonlight.

  By the time I reached the cottage, I was heaving for breath. It had been ages since Lucy and I had met here and it showed. Even in the dark, I could see the slant was more pronounced and the wooden slats more precarious. We could very well be risking our lives to meet here. If the wind blew the wrong way the whole building could collapse. I pulled on the door and the whole house shook so that I jumped back for fear I’d toppled it over.

  A small slip of paper stuck between two of the slats of wood fluttered to the ground. I knelt down and retrieved it; it wasn’t wet like the grass, nor stiff with age. It was new. Surely a message for me. I unfolded the note and lifted my lantern so I could read it.

  It wasn’t signed, but it was Lucy’s handwriting:

  I will be at the creek tonight waiting. This is not safe.

  I was too late. My heart raced. What wasn’t safe—the building or something more? A twig snapped and I jumped to my feet, glancing about me.

  “Someone there?” I stuttered in as loud a voice as I could muster. My small voice felt like a shout in the stillness.

  No response.

  The creek had to be the one behind her house. Close enough for her to see me signal, but far enough away that no one would see us without the lantern’s light. I ran down the streets until her massive home was in view. A slight trickle of rain started to fall, making the grass even slicker. I slid once, but managed to remain upright.

  As I got closer to the creek, I noticed a figure sitting on the bench. Lucy turned toward me and sighed in relief.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come. Everything has gone so terribly wrong.” She took my hands in hers.

  “I know. I’m so sorry!” We sat on the bench. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Lucy held up her hand, silencing me. “It’s done. Mr. Stewart is done with me and all things considered, traveling east doesn’t sound so horrible. Although it will take longer for Patrick’s letters to reach me.”

  “Only you could see the good in this situation.” I shook my head. “But that message. If you are at peace, what danger scared you?”

  “Surely I’m being silly. Even now I feel foolish mentioning it.”

  “What?” Goosebumps prickled my skin.

  “Gregory came to visit me.”

  For a moment I heard nothing. In all of our courtship, Gregory had never sought Lucy out. He seemed to find her vapid, though he couldn’t have been more wrong.

  “Oh?” I managed to squeak out.

  “Yes, I found it strange as well. Since the dinner party, Mother and he have spoken a few times. He found me reading on the veranda after one of their meetings and asked if there was any special place you might go to think or to confide in a friend. It was strange. All his words were correct, but he sounded unlike himself.”

  “Oh,” I repeated. Why would Gregory want to know if there was a special spot I frequented? My palms began to sweat. He was planning on coming after me. He’d seen me at Katerina’s.

  “I didn’t tell him. I figured if you hadn’t confided the information then it wasn’t for me to say. But I came here instead just in case.”

  I nodded. My voice felt locked in my throat. The outside was too exposed. Anyone could be watching us. Anyone could be following us. I shuddered.

  “Is everything smoothing out for you? Should I be worried?” Lucy still held my hand, but I couldn’t sit another moment. I jumped to my feet and paced beside the creek.

  How I wanted to tell her everything. She deserved to know what was happening, but it was all too possible that Gregory was listening at that very moment. The very fact that he had been trying to sniff out information about me was suspicious. Even Lucy saw that he wasn’t behaving like himself. I couldn’t vocalize what I saw and risk him knowing everything.

  I looked at my friend and her kind eyes and I finally realized the truth of the situation. I couldn’t stay here. Not beside the creek, nor even in Oak Park. Gregory wouldn’t stop until he knew exactly what happened to me and when he found out . . . I couldn’t think about that. Dr. Carson, without meaning to, had given me an escape. A sanitarium. The title of insane.

  Mother and I hadn’t spoken a word since the dinner party. Silence wasn’t enough, but it was a start.

  “I have to go,” I declared. Lucy winced as if hurt, but I couldn’t solve that problem too.

  No longer could I behave like myself. I’d make it up to her, I promised myself. “Be sure to write. I will miss you.” I put my lantern in her hand.

  Lucy stood and waved a hand in farewell. I waved back and took off in a run. The tie in my hair loosened and it bounced behind me in the night wind. I stopped to grab a pile of leaves from the ground and rubbed it against my scalp, face, and hands. The more disheveled my appearance the better. I had to give Mother no other option but to admit me to a sanitarium. If I knew her, silent and disheveled combined with all that had happened would be enough.

  I burst through the kitchen door and stomped through the hallway. It was the dead of night, so everyone was asleep. The vase still sat on the center table of the front room. I paused, then walked into the room and lunged against the table. The vase fell with a thud upon the floor. It didn’t break as I hoped, but the sound sparked movement upstairs.

  “Isabelle?” Mother called out.

  How should I behave? I wondered. I couldn’t behave too wildly or Dr. Carson would send me to an asylum, where the truly insane resided, as opposed to a sanitarium. This was a game of balances and I had to be sure to win.

  All right, Mother, I thought to myself. If you don’t want me to speak, I won’t. Not one word until you agree to believe me. We’ll see how quickly
you fold.

  Lying on the floor, I stared at the ceiling and shook my head over and over while pounding my fists beside me.

  Mother’s slippers padded down the stairs. “Is someone there?” she called out.

  The moonlight was bright, making the room just light enough to see faint objects. Mother walked into the room and stopped. She righted the table and her breath became jagged as if afraid.

  “Isabelle?” she said more softly. A moment passed and then she inhaled with such force I knew she’d seen me. “Isabelle, darling! What’s the matter?”

  I continued to shake my head.

  Mother grasped my neck and pulled me into a sitting position. My eyes remained unfocused and I pounded the floor next to me. Mother tried to take my hands, but she couldn’t get a grip to stop me.

  “Isabelle. Stop this now.” Her voice lacked its strong nature. It shook with emotion. “Please, Isabelle. Please?”

  When I didn’t respond to her pleas she lowered me back to the floor and shouted, “Abigail! Abigail, get up. We have to fetch Dr. Carson.”

  The tightening of my stomach subsided. My head stopped shaking and my fists stopped pounding. I lay still as Mother made her plans for Dr. Carson. No matter what happened now, I had scared her. She wouldn’t let me stay home to recover my sanity. I had won.

  CHAPTER 9

  Jostling back and forth in Aunt Clara’s carriage, I tried unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position. In a matter of moments, I would see my new home, the place that would both set me free and condemn me to a life of mockery. I wished Mother had let us take the train, but she insisted that no one know where I’d gone, and that meant having Aunt Clara fetch us. They told our friends that they were taking me on a trip to the country for peace and relaxation. Gregory even dropped off a new fan for me to use while traveling. After she explained our trip to him, it was clear she still hoped to marry me off to Gregory. The thought sent chills through me. I hadn’t come this far to fail. If Bellevue Sanitarium was what it took to obtain my freedom from that murderer, I’d make sure I was admitted.