Mrs. Patterson had a harder time hiding her annoyance. “Isabelle, you’re late for dinner. Be off with you.”
I nodded and scooted out of the hallway and around the corner, and waited for them to pass.
“Someone needs to protect that child,” Mrs. Lincoln said.
Mrs. Patterson sighed as she responded. “Yes, yes. We watch all our patients. Now, you’re due with the good doctor.”
My breath was thick in my throat as their footsteps grew softer and softer. Mrs. Lincoln had defended me to Mrs. Patterson. No one but Papa had ever protected me like that before. Was it possible I’d misunderstood what had transpired between her and Dr. Patterson? Perhaps she had more integrity than I thought.
Instead of making a right to the dining room, I took a left. The sun was setting fast so I darted out the front door. There were no buggies parked from Bellevue all the way down the street. Of course, those men would be pretty poor spies to leave such obvious clues behind them. I leaped from the porch onto the gravel path and darted to the side of the building.
My heart drummed through my ears, but I ignored my fear. The tall oak on the south lawn loomed over me, its shadow making it seem darker outside than it actually was. I spun around a few times, but saw no one. The yard was freshly cut and no footsteps betrayed its lines. Disappointment fought with relief as I realized they were gone. Surely their task wasn’t so dire if they’d already left. Regardless of anything, Gregory would soon know where I was staying. Just the idea of him trying to locate me sent heaves of disgust through me. What was he after? My only hope was that he’d find the sanitarium too far beneath him and disassociate from my family. I hoped that, but I knew I’d not get off so easily.
I trudged into the bushes below my window, hoping they left behind some token that would identify them. I had some jewelry that might convince them to forget they saw me. Gregory couldn’t harm what he couldn’t find. The bushes weren’t fully grown in yet, but the soil was freshly turned. Despite some footprints, I found nothing.
What did I expect to do if I came upon them, anyway?
Shaking my head at myself, I stepped out of the bushes.
“What are you looking for?”
I jumped and spun toward the sound of the voice. There was no one to be seen. Twice, I turned in a circle trying to locate the man whose voice had called out to me, but it seemed I was alone.
“Over here, in the window.” Samuel’s hands rested on a window ledge to my left and he grinned down at me. “No woman I know would ruin their dress unless it was for something special. Can I help you?”
I held up my hand to tell him no. My skirt was torn, but as it matched my blouse, it mattered little.
Samuel’s face clouded at my disapproval. “Oh, well then. If you’d like to go bush hunting again, please invite someone along. It looks charming, but you shouldn’t be alone at dusk. You never know what danger lurks about.” He winked at me. If anyone else had scolded me, I would have felt irritation, but Samuel’s tone made it clear that his concern was genuine. He cocked his head to one side. “Cook made fried chicken. It’s a specialty of hers. I’d hate for you to miss it. Come inside.”
As soon as he mentioned her dish, I thought I could smell the chicken and my stomach growled. I nodded.
“Good. Let me know how you like it.” Then he ducked his head back inside, closed the window, and disappeared from sight.
* * *
The following week, my work time was spent in the kitchen. I couldn’t decide if it was punishment for not speaking further to Dr. Patterson or a privilege from Mrs. Patterson for being so helpful with Cook. Either way, I was just grateful for Cook’s cheer and that I didn’t have to do any of the other chores. As I entered the kitchen the oven’s heat slapped my face.
“Isabelle,” Cook exclaimed. “Thank goodness you are here. I’m all a mess this morning. Could you run and get me four eggs from the henhouse?” She didn’t stop chopping as she talked. “I dropped the ones I got this morning.”
I swallowed, my heart jumping to a canter. I’d heard nothing more of Gregory’s spies, but I doubted they were done. If there was one thing I knew about Gregory, it was that he only hired the best, so the fact that there might be men out there who were watching me, but whom I could not readily detect, left me unsettled. The hens’ roost was directly behind the house, where it was shady most of the day, and was invisible from the street. I was halfway there when someone called out my name.
“Isabelle, wait a moment.”
I looked over my shoulder and found Samuel following me. I hesitated before stopping altogether. “Good morning,” he said, running up to me until we were side by side. “Where are you off to?”
I pointed to the wooden chicken coop a dozen yards away. He nodded. “Dr. Patterson said he’d given you time to work with Cook.” Ah, so it was a punishment.
His tone led me to wonder if there was more he wanted to say. I let my stride match his. He rested his hands on his suspenders.
“How is Mrs. Lincoln as a neighbor?” he asked.
I shrugged. There was something in the way he asked the question that told me it wasn’t what he really wanted to ask. As we approached the coop, he pulled a handful of breadcrumbs from his pocket and threw it on the ground. Immediately, the hens congregated at our feet, pecking at the crumbs.
“Listen, Isabelle,” he began.
Samuel drew a line in the dirt with the tip of his boot. “I just wanted to tell you that I won’t tell anyone about your speaking. Whatever the reason for your silence, it’s your business, and I won’t intrude. I don’t know what it is, but I trust there is a strong reason. Hopefully one day you’ll trust me with your secret.” Even the hens stopped clucking as he spoke. A breeze whipped across my face, forcing my eyes to water at its strength. “You remind me of my sister. She’d go quiet whenever she had a problem she couldn’t solve. She’d get the same expression you get when people expect a reply. She died from a fever years ago. I think it was she who inspired me to pursue medical school.”
He stepped forward and took the basket from me, his fingers brushing mine. Though I could barely breathe, he didn’t seem to notice. His words meant more than I expected. He saw me—not just an insane girl.
“I’d like to be your friend, Isabelle, if you let me.” He opened the gate of the chicken coop for me.
I entered the yard, feeling the chickens’ feathers against my ankles. Samuel darted back and forth, startling the chicks outside. Grinning, I walked toward the henhouse and quickly took four eggs. Placing them in the pocket of my apron, I returned outside to put them in the basket Samuel was holding for me. But, as I stepped back out into the sun, Samuel was nowhere to be found.
He reappeared from the side of the shed a moment later, a smile brightening his face. “Your bouquet, my lady,” he said, bowing heroically. In his hands was the basket, now filled with baby chicks, all fuzzy and new.
My stomach fluttered, and I inhaled in surprise. Taking the basket, I held the chicks close to me, feeling them tumble over one another. Samuel grinned as he watched me. Despite his genuine nature, a small voice warned me that this was wrong. The last thing I needed was a romantic entanglement. I couldn’t let my emotions distract me from the reason I was at Bellevue. Namely, my own survival.
Gently, I pushed the basket back into Samuel’s hands. I nodded slightly to Samuel and turned to leave. From the corner of my eye I saw him slip back into the henhouse and return without the basket.
“Isabelle?” He was serious again when he caught up with me. “Have I offended you?”
I shook my head. He kept pace beside me as I walked back to the kitchen.
When we reached the kitchen door, he placed his hand on it and gestured for me to stop. “I’m sorry to have overstepped my bounds. It won’t happen again. But I really would like to help you.” He opened the door for me. “And not just because I’m a doctor.”
As I entered the kitchen, I nearly walked into Dr. Patterson.
Samuel bumped into me when I froze in place. To be sure I didn’t break the eggs, I scooted past the doctor and placed them in a bowl on the table.
“There you are, Samuel,” Dr. Patterson said, relief spreading over his face. “I need you to administer the medications this afternoon.”
Samuel nodded and unrolled his sleeves, buttoning them at the wrists. “Of course. Anything else I can do?” he asked.
Dr. Patterson waved his hand in the air as if dismissing the question. “Attend to the patients as needed. I must tend to business with Mrs. Lincoln this morning. She is—” He looked at me. “Unwell.”
Samuel nodded. Then, to Cook, he said, “You will look after Isabelle?”
I turned to glare at him. I neither needed nor wanted someone to “look after me.” Cook, who had been fussing at the sink this whole time, came to my side.
She patted my back, saying, “Isabelle is a solid girl. But, yes, we’ll be fine together.”
Samuel nodded, ignoring the odd look Dr. Patterson gave him. “Then I shall be on my way,” he said.
The men left, but as they turned down the hallway, I heard Dr. Patterson ask, “What was that regarding?” But I didn’t catch Samuel’s reply, as Cook chose that moment to begin jabbering.
“Those two, always so busy with something. Never mind their comings and goings, dear, we will keep to our tasks.” She handed me a pile of onions and instructed, “Mince these.”
I nodded and got to work, careful to keep my head as far from the fumes as possible, for I hated onion tears more than anything.
As I chopped, I heard the bushes outside the kitchen rustle. I froze. Straining my ears, I listened for Gregory’s men. Two squirrels leaped from the bushes and chased each other across the lawn. Loosening my shoulders, I tried to calm down, despite the anger that seethed inside me. Gregory had managed to ruin my solace at Bellevue and I had no idea how to get it back.
CHAPTER 17
It had been nearly three weeks since I had discovered Gregory’s spies, though I hadn’t found one piece of evidence that they had actually existed. Perhaps he had only charged them with uncovering where I had disappeared to and wasn’t actually worried about any knowledge I might have of Katerina’s death. Regardless, I refused to give up my search and subjected myself to a game of croquet with the other women in the hope of finding footprints or something else amiss.
As we took a break on the side porch, Agatha brought a tray of lemonade for us. Mrs. Allan, Marilla, and I settled into chairs and sipped the cool liquid. At the back of the property, Samuel was walking with Jesminda, who was twitching and jerking. His eyes met mine, and he grinned as he waved. I returned the gesture. Marilla was pointing out shapes she saw in the clouds when the porch door opened and revealed Mrs. Lincoln herself. Her short frame lumbered down the porch steps and toward our small party. Mrs. Allan’s face reddened and Marilla’s mouth dropped open in surprise. If Mrs. Lincoln saw their responses, she didn’t acknowledge them. Instead she came to my oversized chair and demanded, “Move over, girl.” She insisted on settling herself in a chair beside me.
Marilla and Mrs. Allan stared wide-eyed at the former first lady. She didn’t often spend time with the other patients, and I wasn’t sure what to make of her interest. When we were alone she pretended to be kind, but she tattled on me to the doctor. Was she here to extend an olive branch—or something else?
“I hear your daughter will soon be married,” Mrs. Lincoln said to Mrs. Allan, whose face quickly fell.
“Yes.” Her voice wavered. “She is to be wed next week.”
“How joyous for you,” Mrs. Lincoln exclaimed. “Weddings are such happy occasions. Where did your daughter purchase her wedding trousseau?”
Although Mrs. Lincoln’s words seemed genuine, Mrs. Allan’s chin quivered nonetheless. The silence felt so long that I was tempted to speak just to rescue Mrs. Allan, but just as my heart began to race at the prospect, she finally spoke.
“My daughter has told me little of the details. The truth is . . .” Mrs. Allan inhaled sharply. “The truth is I shall not be in attendance at the wedding.”
“What? Don’t you want to go?” Mrs. Lincoln’s eyes widened. “But, she’s your daughter.”
Mrs. Allan shook her head. “Of course I want to, but . . . she’s decided not to invite me. I’m too much of an embarrassment.” She raised a handkerchief to her mouth.
This was a side of Mrs. Allan I’d never seen before; I didn’t even think it existed. Despite all her hurtful comments, no one deserved to be shunned from their own family. I moved to the seat next to hers and put my arm around her shoulders.
Mrs. Lincoln’s cheeks flushed in obvious frustration. “You are not an embarrassment. You are her mother.” She lurched to her feet. “I shall take care of this myself.”
“No, ma’am, no.” Mrs. Allan pulled on her hand to make her retain her seat. “Please, do nothing.”
Mrs. Lincoln paused, looking uncertain. “Very well, but you only need to ask.”
Just then, Agatha came running to the back porch.
“Isabelle,” she called out. “You’re needed in the parlor straightaway.”
This could mean only one thing: Mother and Aunt Clara had come for a visit.
Mrs. Lincoln turned her hard gaze to Agatha. “Whatever or whomever needs her shall have to wait. Isabelle just started her lemonade. She’ll join you when she’s finished.”
Agatha’s face fell. “But I’m to bring her. She has visitors.”
Mrs. Lincoln snorted. “Anyone who doesn’t give proper notice of their visit deserves to wait. If Mrs. Patterson disagrees, she can talk to me about it.”
The lemonade sloshed in my shaking hand, but I stayed firmly in my seat. Mrs. Lincoln was right. If Mother didn’t think enough of me to give me time to prepare, then she could wait until I finished my drink.
* * *
Before I entered the room, I smoothed my skirt and adjusted my blouse, hoping I was presentable.
Mother and Aunt Clara were sitting side by side on the chaise longue with backs so straight they looked like statues. Mother wore a gray gown trimmed in lace. Her primness meant only one thing: They had come with news.
Agatha shut the door behind me for privacy. Everyone knew a person could hear each and every word through the doors, so I don’t know why she bothered.
“Isabelle.” Aunt Clara stood and walked toward me. I tilted my cheek toward her, and she kissed me. “How are you feeling, my dear?”
I didn’t respond.
“See how her cheeks are pink and healthy instead of horribly pale?” Aunt Clara returned to her seat. “That is surely a good sign.”
I glanced in the mirror above the fireplace and touched my cheek. Did I actually look healthier?
Aunt Clara twisted the handle of her handbag around her finger. She was getting agitated. They had something to tell me. Had something happened to Lucy? I sat on the chair opposite them and waited.
Mother cleared her throat. “We have news, Isabelle. Gregory has written to ask permission to call upon you. He is to visit a colleague in St. Charles next month, and he misses you terribly. He’d like to accompany us to church. He must have spared little expense to uncover our trip to visit Aunt Clara. It’s horribly romantic. I couldn’t refuse.” She avoided eye contact and stared at the floor. “Dr. Patterson says you’ve improved. I am sure you will enjoy this visit with Gregory. It may clear whatever is blocking you. He didn’t mention your ill health in his letter, so our rouse for your whereabouts is secure.” Mother’s chest swelled with pride, or relief.
My ears buzzed like a hornet. Gregory was coming here with Mother’s blessing? It was not to be endured! My hands grasped my skirt, and I stood up. I paced back and forth in front of Mother and Aunt Clara. My skin heated with unspoken frustration. I’d been fooling myself this entire time. As long as Gregory was free, I’d never be safe.
Mother cleared her throat. “Gregory wished for me to tell you that he’s missed you. H
e wanted to visit sooner, but it was impossible for him to get away from his business obligations. You know how dependable Gregory is. Once he’s committed to something, there is little anyone could do to change his mind.”
Aunt Clara smiled. “A fine quality in a man.”
My mouth went dry. They were right. Gregory had already killed once. What would stop him from coming after me? He’d kill me as soon as he realized what I knew, and I couldn’t find any way to stop him. My legs gave out and I collapsed to the floor. I’d been fooling myself this entire time. I wasn’t safe anywhere so long as no one believed me.
“What’s wrong with her?” Aunt Clara cried as she looked around for someone to assist her.
“Stop it, Isabelle,” Mother said. “Be still, please.” She dropped to the floor next to me and tried to wrap her arms around me, but I shoved her off.
The memory of Gregory’s face loomed in front of me. His brown eyes were cold, despite the smile on his face and the wind in his hair. Gregory was a killer.
Heavy footsteps sounded as Samuel came into the room. “What’s going on in here? What has Isabelle so upset?” He knelt beside me. After a moment, he grasped my wrist and paused, and then started to count out loud. “What on earth happened? Her heart’s racing.”
Mother flashed me a pained expression, but quickly found her defense. “She was supposed to be getting better, but I give her what should be happy news and look at her. What else am I paying you for but to heal her?” Samuel stood and glared at Mother. He never got to speak, for Mother had given me an idea.
From my spot on the floor, I cried out and pulled at my hair until all the pins fell to the floor, causing my hair to fly loose all around me. I rocked back and forth, keeping my face covered by my arms.
Aunt Clara twittered about the room. “Perhaps this is too soon. We should tell Gregory to delay a week or even perhaps a month.”
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