House of Silence

by Sarah Barthel

  “So we have a bit of time. I shall do what I can.” She clenched her hand into a fist and pounded my mattress as if it were Gregory’s dark heart.

  Suddenly, I was overcome with fatigue. Mrs. Lincoln, however, was as alive as I’d ever seen her. She spoke to herself as she rose from the bed and walked away. If there was one thing I knew, it was that Mary Lincoln could save people. She had nursed Papa back to health and now she would save me as well.

  CHAPTER 21

  Marilla passed me a pair of scissors and the cream thread. My white stitches were gleaming against the cream fabric, and not in a good way. I accepted her suggestion and pulled my work out to start over. It was Saturday, but we were to stay active every day. Dr. and Mrs. Patterson thought it was the best way to keep us sane, but it was becoming repetitive. Mending, weeding, croquet games, cooking, and long, soothing baths . . . there was more to life. My mind wandered to Gregory’s impending visit the following day, but I pushed it away. Mrs. Lincoln would have a plan. An early heat wave had kept some, including Mrs. Lincoln, to their beds. A few other patients chose to tend to the weeding despite the heat. Our divided forces left just Marilla and me in the parlor, although she barely let a moment go by without filling it with her observations.

  “You are so still, Isabelle,” Marilla said. “I couldn’t sit as you do for hours at a time.” She smiled to herself. Just as I pulled my last stitch out, she slid closer and put her hand on my knee. Looking at her, I stopped rocking and tilted my head inquisitively.

  Marilla looked to each of the doorways and swallowed as she returned her gaze to me.

  “Can I tell you something?”

  I put my work down, giving her my full attention, and nodded.

  “You won’t tell anyone?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  “My sister sent this to me.” Marilla fished in her apron a moment before retrieving a newspaper clipping and placing it in my lap. “She won’t visit me as she’s still young and doesn’t want the taint on her, but she cared enough to warn me.”

  The ladies in the garden were giggling so loudly we could hear them inside. I pushed their amusement away as I picked up the palm-sized clipping:

  Thomas Shelton is to marry Vanessa Naringo in two months’ time. The bride’s trousseau is being sent from Paris. His first wife abandoned him and was admitted to the Bellevue Sanitarium. Shelton’s family and friends wish him better luck with Miss Naringo.

  Marilla fixated on my face as I read the notice. Never had I read such a poorly worded and spiteful announcement. Truthfully, I felt bad for Miss Naringo for choosing him. I didn’t doubt he worded the announcement himself to make sure Marilla was further hurt by the news. I dropped the clipping into her basket and wrapped my arms around her. The moment I did this, she let out a small whimper.

  She pushed me back, her eyes wide and desperate. “Then you think it’s true? You believe he’s . . . divorcing me?”

  My grip on my mending slackened. That he was divorcing Marilla was a given the moment she returned to Bellevue. Had she been so naïve not to realize that? My expression must’ve said it all for she took a steadying breath and pulled herself as tall as possible.

  “Well . . . good riddance.” Her voice was shaky. Gesturing around the room, she said, “I live better here than I ever did with him.”

  I nodded. However she could justify getting over him was better than grief.

  Samuel cleared his throat as he entered the room. Instead of his usual work clothes, he wore a three-piece tweed suit, and his hair was combed like a proper gentleman. The cut of the suit highlighted his broad shoulders and tall physique.

  “Marilla,” he said. “Dr. Patterson told me of your news. Would you like to talk?”

  She glanced at me and then back to the work in my lap. “Actually, I think I’ll be all right. Isabelle is a good listener.”

  Samuel smiled at me. I looked up and felt my face flush from his gaze. “Yes, I hear that often. Still, I’d like to talk. It is a shocking way to hear such news.”

  Marilla stood, but didn’t move. “I can’t leave Isabelle alone.”

  “Isabelle would be fine alone,” Samuel said. “But she’s needed in the kitchen. I hear she has mail to read.” He winked.

  My stomach flipped. That message could only mean one thing: Lucy had replied. I gestured my departure to Marilla and tried to thank Samuel with a look, but as it made me feel moony, I gave up and left the room.

  * * *

  Once I had gotten the letter from Cook I secreted myself away to my room. The shadows from the tree created patterns on Lucy’s letter. I lay on my bed and reread her words, my heart beating a little slower.

  Dearest Izzy,

  Your letter was incredibly shocking! Yet, I dare not doubt you. Gregory murdered Katerina. The very thought sends chills over my very being!

  And you, my dearest friend, are locked up in an asylum. What are we to do? I don’t know how quickly I can get to you, or if I even can. The pastor will be in town this Sunday, and Patrick and I shall finally become man and wife. If I leave now, it will be months before he will be back, and I can’t return unmarried. You and I both know that.

  Please know I am with you in spirit. My support and my love are always with you. This shall pass. I don’t know how or when, but it will.

  I’ ll write more soon,

  Lucy

  At least one of our lives was progressing. It was time to protect mine. I walked across the hall to Mrs. Lincoln’s room. Left alone all day to think, she must have found a way to help me. Before morning I needed to know the plan. Her oak door was shut, and the knob wouldn’t budge. I knocked hard. After a moment, I heard the swishing sounds of a skirt rustling.

  “Yes?” Nurse Penny asked as she opened the door a few inches.

  I opened my mouth and froze. This was Nurse Penny’s typical time off. She wasn’t supposed to be there. I knew Mrs. Lincoln would find a way to dispose of her once she saw me.

  Nurse Penny shook her head. “I’m sorry, but Mrs. Lincoln cannot be disturbed.”

  I stood on my tiptoes, trying to get a look at my friend, but Nurse Penny placed a hand on my arm and said, “She is resting. Don’t make me send for Dr. Patterson to restrain you as well.”

  Her words did their duty, and I stepped back from the door, which was promptly shut.

  For an instant I was defeated, but then I pulled myself together and reminded myself that this was Mary Lincoln. She had promised to protect me, and I knew she wouldn’t disappoint. Even her fiercest critics admitted she was a woman of her word. She wouldn’t abandon me in my hour of need. All I had to do was trust her.

  CHAPTER 22

  The dreaded day finally arrived.

  Agatha pinned my hair and dressed me in my finest church dress before excusing herself to aid the other patients. With Mother arriving any moment, I slipped across the hall and knocked on Mrs. Lincoln’s door. When no one answered, I tried the knob. This time it gave easily, and I opened it.

  Slipping inside, I was surprised to see that the room was empty. I had no time to search for her; Aunt Clara and Mother were surely waiting for me downstairs by now. I ran back to my room and wrote Mrs. Lincoln a hurried note saying I’d gone to church and was thankful for her aid. When I read it over again, it didn’t convey the depth of my gratitude, but it would have to do.

  When I returned to her room, I realized I had never seen it so neat. All of her trinkets were packed away, her bed was made without so much as a wrinkle, and her perfume bottles stood in a straight line. The only mess in the room was her desk. Papers lay haphazardly upon the surface. I walked over to the table and picked one up. In a messy scrawl she demanded aid for a friend who had details about a murder. Many lines were crossed out or written over. There were almost half a dozen different drafts of the letter. Clearly she’d put thought into how she phrased my dilemma. I’d put my trust in the right person. Perhaps she and one of her friends were apprehending Gregory right now.
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  I tucked my note into her stationery box so she’d be sure to find it and rushed out to meet Aunt Clara and my mother. I didn’t know how Mrs. Lincoln planned to help, but I knew she would come through.

  * * *

  As Aunt Clara’s carriage made its way down Wilson Avenue, I twisted my handkerchief between my fingers, my pulse beating in my ears. If I didn’t watch out, I’d vomit, but even that wouldn’t stop Mother. Neither Mother nor Aunt Clara had spoken a word to me. There was nothing they could say that would make me forgive them for putting me through this. What was worse was that it seemed Aunt Clara knew they were doing wrong, for she was continuously biting her lip and glancing at Mother. Between the two of them, I couldn’t decide which woman was more unforgivable.

  We turned a corner, and the church was before us. I searched the grounds of the tall white building for Mrs. Lincoln or anyone she might have sent to protect me, but there was no one. People stood in small groups of three or four, laughing as if today didn’t spell disaster. Without Mrs. Lincoln, it slowly occurred to me that I was actually going to have to see Gregory. My skin prickled at the thought.

  My heart beat so loudly I could hardly hear the horses clomping or the trees swaying in the wind. However, I was not blind to Aunt Clara giving Mother an obvious poke to the ribs.

  Mother adjusted her gloves and cleared her throat. “Isabelle, do not embarrass me,” she began. “Gregory traveled a long distance to see you, and you should be grateful. More than just your childish fantasies ride on this match continuing. You were very fond of him once. Perhaps he can win you over again.”

  I glanced at Aunt Clara and hoped for her to rescue me from Mother’s lecture. Surely she knew something was amiss in this courtship, but she was too busy scanning the crowd in front of the church to pay me any mind.

  I was dreading seeing Gregory’s tall frame standing above the crowds, but I was relieved that so far I didn’t see anyone even slightly resembling him. I shifted my attention to the other carriages and looked for Mrs. Lincoln or some sign of the help she promised. She had connections. Perhaps she’d gotten the sheriff to intervene. But no one familiar or abnormal stood out. Our carriage pulled to a stop, and the dread I’d suppressed crept over my heart.

  “Do you understand, Isabelle?” Mother’s quavering voice communicated her nerves.

  I nodded simply to stop her from saying more. I was rewarded with a curt smile before she rose and got out of the carriage. How had I been so foolish to not have a plan in case Mrs. Lincoln couldn’t help? I’d been so focused on trusting her and her connections that it never dawned on me she could fail.

  I prayed for God to protect me. If He truly knew all, then He would not allow Gregory to reenter my life. He would turn Aunt Clara’s and Mother’s eyes to see the devil in Gregory. I wouldn’t have to endure this meeting and would be free to return home. My true home, not the sanitarium.

  As Mother stepped from the carriage, Aunt Clara tilted her head and gave me a kind look. “Your mother wrote him that you have been battling laryngitis and may not speak. Even so, will you at least try for me?”

  Her voice was loving and soft, but I turned away from her, searching the street for my savior. Any savior. Then, as Aunt Clara climbed out of the carriage, every hair on my arms stood on end.

  Gregory had arrived.

  He stepped out of the square white church and made his way toward us. The wide brimmed hat, bushy mustache and perfectly fitting suit all looked the same, but I was finally able to see past the good looks and charm. His every move was choreographed to make people admire him. He fiddled with a pocket watch as if nervous, but was all smiles as he took Aunt Clara’s hand and kissed it.

  The muscles in my arms twitched as I watched him. He had destroyed my life, as surely as if it had been my neck he had strangled, and yet he behaved as if he had no blame upon him. A woman walked past our carriage and nodded to me. I repeated the gesture before realizing that I’d seen her before, while out riding with Mrs. Lincoln. Looking over the crowd, I noticed a few other familiar faces and I smiled. These families had influence and would remember me as Mrs. Lincoln’s companion. If things became too unbearable, all I had to do was loudly betray where I’d been living and Gregory would be sure to give me up. I’d have little value if my ruinous circumstances were exposed before such influential people. I smiled. If nothing else, I had this plan of action.

  “Why, Mrs. Haskins,” Gregory preened to Aunt Clara. “You haven’t aged a day since I saw you last.” His baritone voice was as smooth as ever. “I hope you’ve been enjoying Isabelle’s visit. Hopefully you haven’t gotten her into too much mischief.” He winked at Mother.

  “You do like to flatter old women.” Aunt Clara giggled like a schoolgirl and covered her mouth with her perfectly gloved hand. I wanted to retch.

  “Is your husband about?” Gregory asked.

  Aunt Clara shook her head. “He had an important meeting in the city, but he will be back this evening.”

  She guided his attention to Mother, who was standing nearby on the wooden sidewalk in front of the church. He took her hand as well, and I noticed how her cheeks flushed at his touch. How did she not see through his act?

  Mother and Aunt Clara stepped aside and watched as Gregory approached the carriage and offered me his hand. I smiled politely at him, but didn’t accept it. For all I knew, that was the hand that covered Katerina’s mouth and suffocated her. Where was Mrs. Lincoln’s promised aid?

  It was time to accept that it wasn’t coming. She’d been too sick or sedated to fulfill her promise. I was alone.

  “Do let me help you, Isabelle.” He offered me his arm again. “The service is starting soon.”

  His hand was nearly at my eye level and he clearly wasn’t going to move so I could get down without him. Mother’s eyes darted around us, but Aunt Clara watched me, waiting to see what I’d do. I refused to take his hand. Instead, I placed my hand on his shoulder, so I could launch myself out of the carriage. I didn’t even wobble as I landed. Mother rewarded me with a glare. She grasped Gregory’s arm and led him toward the church entrance.

  “Clara and Walter have attended here since they were married,” she explained. “The building dates back to the turn of the century.” Mother gestured to the tall windows.

  “It is beautiful,” Gregory agreed.

  The church bells sounded from the tall spire, and we fell in line to enter the building.

  “Batavia is unique,” Aunt Clara replied, taking Gregory’s other arm. “Mr. Haskins spent his youth here and always said it was where he wanted to spend the end of his days.” They walked arm in arm.

  “He was lucky to have a wife who was so accommodating,” Gregory said.

  “Wives are best when helping to fulfill their husband’s dreams,” Mother said. I nearly rolled my eyes at how they were both hanging onto him, as if otherwise he’d run away.

  Gregory laughed. “Surely we men aren’t so bad.”

  Aunt Clara smiled. “You will find there is much to love and hate in government, Mr. Gallagher.” Then she lifted her hand to her face again and sighed. “I nearly forgot. Mr. Haskins is having some men over for dinner this evening. They are very interested in meeting with you.”

  He held the door open so we could enter the church. Most of the congregation was already seated in the pews. The morning sun streamed through the large stained glass window behind the pulpit, casting warmth throughout the supposed sanctuary. But even here, in a house of worship, I felt unsafe and exposed, unable to ask for help from anyone around me.

  Gregory followed us down the aisle. “I would be more than happy to join you for dinner,” he gushed to Aunt Clara. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “So long as Miss Isabelle will join us.”

  Mother grabbed my elbow and drew me close. “Speak,” she whispered in my ear. I allowed myself a small smile and shook my head. Despite her words, Mother would quickly regret it if I spoke. I’d make a scene so grand they’d tell the story fo
r months. If I spoke, that is. To accomplish what I needed would ruin any chance I had at a real life, and I wasn’t quite ready to give up my hope. Not yet.

  “I’m so sorry, but Mr. Haskins specifically said it was to be a gentlemen’s dinner,” Aunt Clara said quickly.

  We stopped and slid one by one into the family pew. Despite all attempts otherwise, I found myself seated beside Gregory. He took my hand in his, and I could feel the strength in his grip.

  “Perhaps a stroll would brighten your day, Isabelle,” Mother offered when I said nothing. “I’m sure Gregory would oblige.”

  “Actually, I was hoping to accompany her on a carriage ride.” He turned to Mother. “You see, after I heard she’d been ill, I thought a carriage ride along the river might be more to her liking than a walk, so I hired one this morning. Does that sound nice, Isabelle?”

  All I wanted to do was scream, “NO,” at the top of my lungs. Instead I put an indifferent expression on my face.

  “Always the demure one,” he said, clearly taking my indifference as modesty.

  Aunt Clara and Mother exchanged a look before Mother said, “Despite her illness, I think a carriage ride is just what Isabelle needs. It would be unfair for us to take up all your time this afternoon.”

  My stomach flipped. Alone with Gregory.

  The pastor stepped before the congregation in his white robes and began the service.

  “Let us pray,” he said somberly.

  And I did.

  CHAPTER 23

  As the congregation followed the minister out of the church I refused to leave. I hadn’t thought of an acceptable way to get rid of Gregory and couldn’t move until I had. In front of me, Gregory offered Aunt Clara his arm. Since he had discovered that Uncle Walter was in town, his attention had rarely been diverted from her. I was embarrassed to admit how it chafed me that Gregory would get to see my dear uncle and I would not. Mother grabbed my arm, pulled me from the pew, and directed me outside and into the morning sunlight.