House of Silence

by Sarah Barthel

  “Gregory, this is foolish. How much damage do you think you can do before you are caught?” I asked. Lucy grasped the letter from my hand and slid it into her pocket.

  Gregory glared at me. “Please, Isabelle. All I want is the letter.”

  Lucy snorted. “No, first you want the letter. Then you’ll want us to stay silent. I know how you obtained Katerina’s silence. I’d like not to meet her fate.”

  It was my turn to tense up. Lucy didn’t know Gregory the way I did. Directness only aggravated him.

  “I’ve always respected you, Lucy. Don’t force my hand.” Gregory’s hands trembled at his sides.

  Lucy looked pointedly at Lawrence on the floor. “Did you respect him?”

  Her hand slid into her pocket. She pulled out a letter opener. I blinked, surprised she’d actually taken one from the table. I wasn’t sure she even knew what to do with such a weapon.

  “Lucy,” I whispered, trying to warn her.

  “No, this is getting out of hand. He is getting out of hand.” She raised the letter opener and glared at Gregory. “For someone who says he is in love with you, he has an awfully violent way of showing it.”

  Smack! Gregory’s hand slapped Lucy’s cheek. The force was such that she fell to one side, the letter opener flung from her hand across the room, far away from us. She landed on the floor with a thud. She turned and looked up at us, and a trickle of blood began to slide out of her nose. She scooted away from Gregory, nursing her face and shaking her head. I was on my own.

  Lucy was right, this was getting out of control. I looked around for something that might qualify as a weapon. The table of letter openers was too far away for me to get to without Gregory stopping me. The only other things nearby were a few small vases on a table.

  Gregory set his gaze to me and sighed. “I’m not a monster.”

  “Yes, you are.” I stepped back from him.

  “Isabelle.” His voice was stung, like a boy’s.

  “You killed Katerina! You murdered her. And for what? A secret?”

  Gregory’s face turned crimson. “How dare you speak so! You have no idea what my life has been like. The sneers that followed me whenever Father was not by my side. The pity from other children. And then, when Father died, to get that horrible revelation from that woman. No, you are not strong enough to live with the consequences of my life. Now, give me that letter.”

  “No, it’s too late for that,” I said.

  I tried to move toward the desk, but Gregory darted and blocked my movements. He was too smart to let me get my hands on anything useful. I was going to have to think of something else.

  “It’s never too late, Isabelle,” Gregory said.

  Lucy cleared her voice and stood up shakily. Her hand still covered her nose with a handkerchief. “It’s over. Can’t you see that, Gregory? Too many people know. It’s time to turn yourself in to the authorities.”

  Gregory’s eyes bulged, and his breath quickened. “Not yet. It has not come to that. It hasn’t. It was an accident. I never meant to hurt her, only scare her. I’m no criminal.” Gregory balled his hands into fists. “Can you see that, Isabelle? Surely if you ever cared for me you’d know I’m no criminal. I’d never mean to harm anyone. Didn’t you care for me, even a little?”

  It was strange. Here we were demanding incarceration and all he wanted to know was if I cared for him. I glanced at Lucy. She motioned with her eyes to the tall, heavy velvet curtains that were mere feet behind her. They were tied back with large rope ties. I hoped I understood her plan.

  I turned back to Gregory and stepped toward him. “You killed that innocent girl just to cover up your secret, and all you want to discuss is the honesty of my affection? Gregory, you are a murderer!”

  His torso constricted, and he retreated to the wall as if hit. “No, perhaps my actions were wrong, but hers were worse. She tried to blackmail me. I’d have been ruined; we’d have been ruined.”

  “No.” My voice was firm. “Do not lump me in with your villainy. There is no ‘we’ anymore.”

  Gregory hunched over. “But you said you saw everything. You must have seen that I didn’t intend what happened. You must know I’m not a monster!” He reached out and grasped my wrist. It was the same one he had hurt before, and the old bruises burned under his pressure. “Please, I did not plan any of it.”

  I could scarcely hear Lucy move behind me, but I knew she was doing something. All I had to do was keep Gregory’s attention solely upon me. “Planned or not, her life is over because of you.” He tenderly brushed one finger down my cheek. I shuddered at his touch, but could not let myself flee.

  “I really do love you, Isabelle.” He pulled me against him and kissed me. It was all I could do not to shove him away. Lucy had a plan and I trusted her strength. “We could still be happy.”

  The light changed slightly in the room and I knew Lucy had at least one set of the ropes. Gregory continued to look down at me, pleading with his eyes. I had to play along.

  “Could we be happy? After all that’s happened?” I batted my eyes like I had when we first started dating. From the corner of my eye, I searched for something to use against him. Just to the side of us was a small table with a glass lamp.

  “Of course.” Gregory’s eyes lit with hope. “Put this all in the past and start over. Our wedding is a mere month away. Do you think you could?”

  I hesitated and edged toward the table. “Could what?”

  Gregory seemed to think that I was moving closer to him, and he rested a hand on my waist.

  “Could you forget all that’s happened?” Gregory pulled a loose hair from my cheek and tucked it behind my ear.

  I stepped to the side again. “Forget? That would be asking a lot.”

  Gregory nodded. “I realize that. If it helps, I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  Again I adjusted myself so the lamp was mere inches behind me. “Perhaps in time I could learn to forget it. We could start over even stronger than before . . . without lies.”

  Gregory propped my chin up with his finger. “Think of all we could be.”

  “We could be spectacular.” I pulled him toward me. Pressing my lips to his, I grabbed the lamp and smashed it against his head with all my strength. Shards of glass flew past my cheeks.

  Immediately, Gregory fell to the floor in a pile of broken glass and cuts. Moaning, he shook his head and tried to sit up, but couldn’t and fell back down. It didn’t seem as if he remembered I was in the room with him. He wasn’t unconscious as I’d hoped, but he was truly stunned. That was good enough.

  Lucy was at my side in a moment, making quick work of tying the ropes into knots around Gregory’s arms and legs. All I had to do was hold him still while she did all the work.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” I asked.

  Lucy smiled. “Patrick taught me.”

  Gregory growled as he came to and tried to move his arms. His eyes flashed to me, and I jumped away from him. Gregory kicked and rolled, trying to get to his feet. His effort was in vain. All he managed was to put his body in an even more ludicrous position with his neck against the wall and his hands between his knees.

  “Don’t do this, Isabelle.” He shuffled so that he lay on the ground, his head tilted in my direction. “Your reputation is already precarious because of where you’ve been living. If my past comes out, you’ll be ruined. Who will want to marry a deranged girl who spent time in an asylum and is connected to a bastard? Be reasonable. Save yourself and me.”

  My hands clenched into fists as I turned back to Gregory. “This is how I save myself. I don’t care what others say about me anymore. I’d rather have half the state think exactly what you said than allow you one more moment of freedom. You said you loved me. Prove it. Turn yourself in.”

  Gregory looked dumbfounded. “You’ve changed,” he whispered.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “And she isn’t alone. She has me.” Lucy linked her arm
through mine and glared down at Gregory.

  Just then Lawrence groaned. Without thinking Lucy and I both rushed to his side and tried to help him sit up. There was a large lump on his head, but beyond that, no visible injuries.

  “What’s this?” Lawrence rubbed his eyes. Then he saw Gregory a few yards away from him. “This is highly irregular.”

  “For once I agree,” Gregory growled.

  Lawrence sat up and put his spectacles back on. “What happened?”

  CHAPTER 33

  The next day, Lucy and I sat on my bed at Bellevue Place, the late edition of the paper sprawled out between us. Dr. Patterson had given her a compress to reduce the swelling in her cheek, but she wasn’t using it. Wisely, no one tried to send Lucy to a hotel. Instead, Samuel made up another bed in my room for her.

  “I can’t believe it!” Lucy smacked the paper and shook her head. “You let him take all the credit?”

  I smiled. “I didn’t stop him, if that’s what you mean.”

  Lawrence had turned Gregory in to the sheriff and stayed with them while they questioned Gregory. I was glad to be excused and done with the whole affair. What I had not anticipated were the local reporters picking up the story. Even more shocking was when the Chicago papers ran the story the following morning. Samuel had sneaked the front pages in for Lucy and me to examine. Of course, Lawrence’s version had me on the floor unconscious and himself fighting Gregory and saving the day. The important thing was that everyone finally knew of Gregory’s crimes; I didn’t care who got the credit for exposing him.

  “Let Lawrence have the notoriety,” I said.

  “You really don’t care?” Lucy leaned on her elbow and raised an eyebrow.

  I smiled. “I have all I want. Besides, it never hurts to have a private investigator in your debt.”

  Lucy laughed.

  A hesitant knock made us both turn toward the door. Samuel stood in the doorway, his bag under one arm.

  “I came up to check on Mrs. Lincoln and thought I’d make sure Lucy was applying that compress to her face.” He looked to my vanity where the compress had been discarded long ago.

  “It smells,” Lucy said.

  “If you go to Dr. Patterson’s office he will make you a new application. Tell him the problem and ask him to add lavender to soften the stench.”

  Samuel stepped inside the room so Lucy could pass. After a sly smile at me, Lucy grabbed the old towel and left us alone.

  Silence filled my room as neither of us spoke for a moment. Then, as if the conversation had never paused, he stated, “I would’ve found a way to take you to Joliet.”

  “Oh.” Did he think I was disappointed in him? “I know you would have done your best, but I found my own way there. It was easier with fewer people involved. And now, well, Dr. Patterson has no reason to fire you for getting involved in my problems.” I got up from the bed and put the papers on the side table.

  “But your arm is bandaged again. He could have really hurt you.” Samuel took my wrist gently and checked Dr. Patterson’s wrapping.

  When he finished I pulled my hand away. “I’m stronger than I look.”

  “You are full of surprises, Isabelle.” Samuel looked down at me and smiled.

  “How is Mrs. Lincoln?”

  “She is still under sedation. I can’t explain much more.” Samuel shifted uneasily.

  I nodded my understanding. “Her ailments are her business. I just wanted to talk to her.”

  “Once the sedation wears off I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled at him, and the next moment he had my hand in his and kissed my fingers before dashing out of my room.

  * * *

  Once Samuel was gone, I sneaked across the hall to see how ill she was myself. To my surprise she was sitting at her desk with a pile of correspondence in front of her. Her pen scratched against the paper hurriedly. I paused to watch her. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid and her back was straight as she worked. She was still in her nightgown, but given the sedation, that wasn’t surprising.

  “Mary?” I stepped into her room and shut the door behind me.

  She turned from the little table and a huge smile spread across her face. “Isabelle, my dear. I hoped you’d visit. They’ve been keeping the world away from me.” I went to her side and put my arms around her. She grasped my face and pressed her forehead to mine. “Your ordeal is over. You saved yourself. How proud you must be.”

  I grinned and pulled away from her embrace. I was proud of myself. “Yes, it seems to be over. How are you?”

  She rubbed the side of her head. “Sometimes I feel almost normal and then the tomahawk begins to beat against me once again and I can barely breathe for the pain.”

  I assumed she was referring to her chronic headaches and simply nodded in sympathy.

  “I received a letter from Myra Bradwell,” she continued. “I had written her in regard to your situation, but now that it is resolved I may see if she can help better my situation.” She set her pen down. “I do not want to die in this place.”

  “No one does,” I agreed.

  “Oh!” She clutched her head and sighed. “That blasted pounding.”

  I put my arm around her and helped guide her back to bed. There was a washcloth in a basin of water and I put the cool cloth over her eyes.

  “Thank you, Isabelle,” Mrs. Lincoln said.

  The door opened and Agatha sashayed inside. “Oh no. Pain back again?”

  “Pounding,” Mrs. Lincoln said.

  “I didn’t think sitting up would do you any good, but what do I know.” Agatha glared at the letter-strewn desk. “Well, I came up to give you this.” She held out a letter.

  Mrs. Lincoln removed the washcloth, sat up a bit and took the paper from Agatha. After she scanned the contents a true smile formed on her face.

  “Oh my,” she whispered. “My sister has offered me her spare room, provided Robert will allow it.”

  “That is wonderful news,” Agatha exclaimed.

  “Surely Robert will consent,” I agreed, hugging my friend.

  Mrs. Lincoln nodded absentmindedly. “Yes, I must reply straightaway.” She tried to sit up and then lay back down. “But perhaps it can wait until later. The mail won’t go out until tomorrow.”

  I glanced at Agatha, who nodded for me to leave them alone. “I’ll take over, dear. Go see your family.”

  “Family?” I asked, confused.

  “Didn’t Mrs. Patterson tell you? Your aunt is coming to see you shortly.”

  Mrs. Lincoln snapped her fingers at me and I gave her my attention. In short breaths she said, “No matter what. They are family. Don’t turn away family.”

  I nodded and left her room before she could impose more restrictions upon me.

  Just as Agatha said, I was called down to visit with Aunt Clara about an hour later. Lucy’s compress filled my room with a medicinal lavender smell that made both of us rather sleepy. She curled up on my bed and nodded her good-byes.

  “You won’t come with me?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Aunt Clara won’t harm you. But she could drag me home to Mother. I’ll not invite trouble. Patrick is waiting for me and once I am better, I’ll go back to him.”

  * * *

  I hadn’t changed my dress or put any of the extra touches to my appearance I normally did for my aunt’s behalf, but I decided it didn’t matter. If she had read the papers, she wouldn’t expect me to look perfect today.

  I reached the bottom of the stairs and found her waiting outside the parlor doors. Before I could ask any questions she held up her hand.

  “You and I will have much to discuss later. For now, someone else needs to speak with you.”

  I glanced from her to the closed doors and my stomach plummeted. “Please, no.” I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.

  “Now, give her a chance, Isabelle. You may not be ready to forgive her, but she’s your mother.” Then she opened the d
oors and nudged me forward into the small room.

  My back stiffened as I saw Mother standing by the window. She wore the light green day gown I once called my favorite. The stern expression that had hardened her face for the last three months was gone, replaced with puffy eyes and pale cheeks.

  “Isabelle.” Her voice cracked. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve believed you. I see that now.”

  Those words that I’d longed for did not summon the relief I craved. Instead, they repelled me. Of course she wanted forgiveness now that everything was proven and those who mattered believed me. What she never understood was that it was her confidence in me that really mattered.

  “Why did you come?” My mouth was dry, and I worked hard to maintain my calm demeanor.

  Mother blinked. “You are my daughter.”

  “That didn’t matter when you left me here.” I leaned against Mrs. Patterson’s rocking chair for support.

  Blanching at my words, Mother sighed. “I was angry. I thought you were behaving that way to anger me.”

  “Anger you?” I nearly squeaked with shock. “You thought all of this was to solve some kind of vendetta? Are you insane?” I took another step backward.

  “I said I was sorry. We were all taken in by that man’s charms, and I couldn’t see past them.” Her hands shook.

  “I’m glad you see all that now.” I blinked slowly. Then I thought of Mrs. Allan and her grief when her daughter chose to exclude her from her wedding. Did I want to be that cold and unfeeling?

  I turned my eyes to Mother once more and tried this time to truly see her and not be colored by my anger. The skirt of her gown was wrinkled and marked with dust. It wasn’t made for traveling. She must’ve read Lawrence’s interview and come straight here without collecting herself first. I glanced about the room and found her small traveling bag in the corner to support my conclusion. Her face showed little sign of deceit or contempt; rather, she appeared remorseful and defeated.

  “Mother, I don’t know if I will ever forgive you for not believing me, but I do not want our relationship to die because of it. I cannot offer you more than that.” I gripped the back of the rocking chair until my knuckles were white.