Davenport House 7: Hard Times

by Marie Silk

  The woman gaped at her. Mary felt more uncomfortable by the second and regretted that she had not just said goodbye and returned into the house. The woman’s voice cracked as she responded emotionally. “Mary! Do you mean to say you don’t recognize me? I am your mother!”

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, Mrs. Spencer walked into the dining room just as Mary was finishing her breakfast. “Miss Clara asks for you to meet her in the upstairs sitting room,” she said with a smile.

  Mary went up the grand staircase, but paused as she reached the landing. She could hear the sound of laughter coming from the sitting room. It was Clara. Mary realized it was the first time she heard Clara laugh in delight since long before the wedding was to take place. Mary entered the room with Mrs. Spencer following not far behind. Clara was seated in front of the fireplace. “Good morning, Clara,” Mary greeted her. “You are looking well.”

  “Thank you, Mary,” Clara replied. “Mrs. Spencer and Jane were just introducing Jimmy, the newest member of our household staff.”

  Mary stared in surprise at the young boy who stood beside Jane. He looked to be about twelve years old. “Oh—hello, Jimmy,” she greeted.

  “How do you do, Mrs. Hamilton?” he said politely.

  “I am very well,” Mary said with a giggle.

  “Now Jane will take you downstairs and you will have a tour of the whole house,” Clara said to Jimmy. The housemaid left with the boy and Mrs. Spencer laid out tea for Mary and Clara.

  “Will there be anything else, Miss Clara?” she asked.

  “No thank you, Mrs. Spencer,” Clara answered.

  After Mrs. Spencer left, Mary turned to Clara. “I am glad to see you feeling better,” she said quietly. She decided it was not the time to mention the visit from Mrs. Davenport the previous day. Mary had broken into a run to the Valentis’ land the instant she recognized the mother who raised her. But Mary did have something else on her mind to say to Clara. “I’m a little confused about why you have hired a new servant,” she began.

  “Oh I know that poor Jane has been overworked and waiting for a new maid, so I told Mrs. Spencer we must have more help,” she answered plainly.

  “But—aren’t you planning to sell the house? Where will the servants go when we move?”

  “Oh that,” Clara said with a laugh. “I changed my mind about selling the house, Mary. I was not thinking clearly when I said those things. I suppose the idea of starting over someplace new has lost its appeal for now. This house is all I’ve ever known and I’m quite comfortable staying here until the end of my days.”

  Mary breathed in relief. “I am glad you won’t sell the house, but I should tell you that I’ve already spoken to William and we’ve discussed relocating to Philadelphia.”

  “You want to leave?” Clara asked, suddenly appearing as though she might cry.

  “It’s not that we want to leave, Clara. William applied for a position at the new hospital, but the board of directors declined him. With the majority of the town’s business going to a well-staffed hospital, we may need to close the clinic for good.”

  Clara looked down at her lap. “I see,” she replied sorrowfully. “I hope you don’t have to go, Mary.”

  The two ladies sat in front of the fireplace without saying much else. Mary shuddered to relive the previous day’s encounter with Mrs. Davenport. She looked at Clara, who seemed like she might be cheered by the excuse to talk about someone else. “You’ll never believe who stopped by the house yesterday,” said Mary.

  Clara covered her heart with her hand. “It wasn’t Joe, was it?” she asked, a faint spark of hope still evident in her eyes.

  Mary took a deep breath before she announced the news. “No, it was not Joe…it was Mrs. Davenport.”

  “Oh,” Clara responded. “What did she say?”

  Mary was taken aback by Clara’s casual reaction. “I expected you to be a little more surprised that she came here. I’m still shaking from the meeting, myself!” she exclaimed. Clara continued to look at her expectantly. Mary felt she had no choice but to answer her question. “She did not say what she came for. She only said that she must speak with you in person.”

  “How curious,” Clara said distractedly. When she turned toward Mary again, she looked as if she were experiencing a tinge of guilt. “Forgive me, Mary. I hadn’t meant for you to find out this way.”

  Mary had a sinking feeling. “Find out what? Clara, what are you saying?”

  Clara stared at the fireplace again. “I’ve been corresponding with your mother. She is helping me with some things.”

  Mary was appalled. “You can’t be serious!”

  “I am serious, Mary. It was she who convinced me that selling the house would be a mistake.”

  “Well I suppose I agree with that—but Clara—think of all the terrible things she did to you! And to your mother!”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “It’s in the past now. I only want to move forward at this time.”

  Mary stood up from the settee. “I can’t believe this! I can’t believe you would speak to her in the first place, let alone have her come to the house without warning me first!”

  “I didn’t know she would come to the house. I’m sorry. I was afraid that if I told you about our correspondence, you wouldn’t understand…or maybe even be disappointed in me.”

  “Of course I don’t understand!” Mary cried, beginning to shake with anger. “Have you forgotten the way she treated us, and how she deceived you in order to take the estate?”

  “I don’t believe she would do such a thing to either of us again. She wrote me a letter, Mary. While I was lost in darkness and despair and waiting to hear from Joe, it was your mother who wrote to me. She made me see things in a different light. Let me get the letter from my room so I can show you. There is more to the story than you realize.”

  Mary began to feel ill to with every word that Clara spoke. She could no longer contain her indignation. “I’m sure she is back to her same old tricks now—now that you have invited her in! And would you kindly refrain from referring to that woman as my mother! She deceived everyone in the house to think I was her daughter, only to deny it all when it became profitable for her. She stole me from my own parents to hide her lies!”

  Clara looked at Mary with pleading eyes. “Mary, if you could just see the letter, you might—”

  “I won’t see it, Clara,” she said firmly. “That woman belongs in jail, and nothing you can say or do will convince me otherwise. Did she tell you in her letter about how she poisoned your father?”

  Clara looked down at her lap and tears began to fall. “No. She said no such thing.”

  “I’m sure she only told you what she thought you wanted to hear. Clara, you must cease corresponding with her immediately, for all of our sake’s!”

  “I’m sorry, Mary. That won’t be possible,” Clara answered. “You may not understand now, but you will in time.”

  Mary stood up angrily. “Very well, Clara. Invite her back to the house if you wish, but I will not be here the next time she comes. I’m going to gather mine and Violet’s things and be out of your house once and for all—it is bound to be the end result anyway, now that you have chosen to listen to—her!”

  “Mary, please don’t go,” Clara whimpered.

  “I have to,” Mary said as she exited the room. She added sharply, “And we both know your own mother would be on my side if she were still here.” Mary did as she said and packed her things to leave the house with Violet. Clara returned to her room and cried on her bed until she had no tears left to cry.

  When Mary arrived at the clinic in Yorktown, she explained everything to William about what had happened with Mrs. Davenport and Clara. William listened quietly as they lay on the small bed in the apartment above the clinic.

  Mary let out an exasperated breath after she finished relaying her story. She looked curiously at William when she realized how quiet he had been all the while. “You hav
e not said a word,” she said nervously. “Won’t you tell me what you think about the way Clara has betrayed us?”

  William spoke in a solemn voice. “I think that Clara is in a fragile state of mind right now. Don’t forget that she has been afflicted with brain fever. Now is not the time for arguments, but the time to make amends.”

  Mary frowned and looked down at her quilt. She had been secretly worried that William might respond that way. “Then you don’t think I am justified in my anger?”

  “I didn’t say that. Mrs. Davenport threatened me and my practice too. I can only imagine what she is capable of.”

  “Yes, exactly!” Mary replied, feeling validated. “Clara thinks that she has changed, but surely the only thing that has changed about Mrs. Davenport is the way she looks. I barely recognized her after just five years! She walks with a cane now...perhaps her weakened appearance is why Clara is no longer afraid. But isn’t it our duty to convince Clara that she will ruin everything if she continues on this course?”

  “I meant what I said about making amends, Mary. Clara looks to you for approval, much like she looked to her mother for approval while she was alive. She might take it very hard and even harm herself if she thinks you are disappointed in her.”

  Mary looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean ‘harm herself’?”

  “I mean the brain fever. I’ve seen these things take a turn for the worse—even to the point of death—when the person who is suffering feels they have nothing left to lose.”

  Mary felt her stomach turning. “I didn’t realize…I suppose I should not have been so harsh with her. Clara was looking so well today that I never remembered she was ill in the first place.” She looked apologetically at William. “I should not have been so harsh with you the other night, either. I’m sorry. I’ve been so tired lately, and now that Serena and Abigail have gone, I have no one to help with Violet. I only hope my advertisement for a nanny is responded to soon.”

  William groaned. “Mary, I am out of money,” he confessed. “I don’t know how we will pay for a nanny right now. It is only by Clara’s good graces that we even have a place to live.”

  Mary swallowed the lump in her throat. “Then I will cash in my stocks to pay the nanny. I can’t do everything on my own with the baby.”

  “Of course you can, Mary,” he replied confidently. “You’re stronger than you realize. You need to believe that you are capable, instead of always relying on others for help. We grew up in different worlds, you see. You have spent your life depending on servants but most mothers do not have nannies and they do just fine.”

  “You don’t think I should have the help?” Mary questioned.

  William gazed at her endearingly. “I am only saying that you can manage on your own even though you may not know it yet. I’m afraid that I cannot give you the life you’ve been accustomed to with servants, especially now that I may be out of work. I’m sorry, Mary. But I believe you are perfectly capable. You should withdraw the advertisement.”

  Mary could not look him in the eye. She turned over in the bed and faced the wall instead of her husband. She suddenly felt unworthy of her privileged life and that she and William might be worlds apart in a way he would never understand. “I will withdraw the advertisement,” Mary said as her tears fell silently onto the pillow, “and I will move back into the house with Violet and make sure Clara is all right.”

  Chapter 9

  The next morning at Davenport House, Mrs. Spencer informed Clara that she had a visitor. “Send her into the drawing room,” Clara said, taking a deep breath. “I will be down to see her in a moment.”

  Mrs. Davenport waited on the sofa and looked around the room to see how things had changed since she was Mistress of the house. “Hello Clara,” she said when Clara appeared in the doorway.

  Clara clenched her fists at her side. “Did you really poison my father? Answer me instantly before I turn you out of this house for good!”

  As Clara met with Mrs. Davenport in the drawing room, Mary entered the house with Violet. Mrs. Spencer greeted her at the front door. “Good morning, Mrs. Hamilton. May I help with the baby?” She held out her arms to take Violet.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Spencer,” Mary said. “I have luggage in my car as well.”

  “I will send Jimmy to retrieve it right away, Madam,” she responded with a nod.

  Mary had forgotten that Jimmy worked at the house. She showed him the luggage in the car and explained which room was hers. “I’ll get those to your room right away, Ma’am,” he responded cheerfully.

  The telephone rang just as Mary walked by the library. She sat at the desk and answered the call.

  “Good morning, Mary. I called earlier but Mrs. Spencer said you stayed in town last night,” said Abigail’s voice. “Is everything all right?”

  “I don’t know that I would call everything all right, but I’m trying to make peace with it,” answered Mary. She explained about her argument with Clara the previous day. Abigail remained quiet the whole time. “William’s response was that I should make amends with Clara and be considerate of the brain fever.”

  “I think he is right,” Abigail said.

  Mary huffed in frustration. “Then I suppose you think I have no reason to be upset that Clara is trusting Mrs. Davenport, of all people. I still don’t know how I will face Clara right now.”

  “I understand that you’re upset, Mary, but you must think of Clara. You don’t know how bad it got with her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Abigail sighed into the phone. “Go to the bookcase and look underneath the medical encyclopedia. There’s something you should see.”

  Mary placed the telephone on the desk and went to the bookcase. Under the encyclopedia was an envelope. Mary returned to the desk with the envelope and read the words written on the outside:

  Dear Mary,

  I pray that you and God will forgive me for the committing the unforgivable.

  Clara

  “I don’t understand,” Mary said quietly into the phone. “Why was this hidden from me?”

  “You were sleeping the day that Clara left it in her room. It was an emergency, Mary. Ethan and I had to open it so we could act quickly before it was too late. I think it’s time for you to see what Clara wrote inside.”

  Mary removed the papers from the envelope. She swallowed painfully when she saw that it was Clara’s Last Will and Testament.

  I devise, bequeath, and give my wardrobe to my friend and neighbor, Serena Valenti.

  I devise, bequeath, and give my jewelry to my friend, Abigail Smith.

  I devise, bequeath, and give Davenport House, and all the rest and remainder of my estate, to my beloved friend, Mary Hamilton.

  Tears welled in Mary’s eyes as she read the page. “Oh Abigail, I’m afraid to know what Clara was thinking when she left this in her room that day.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I will be gentle with her.”

  Jimmy appeared in the doorway just then and stood outside the library while Mary ended her call with Abigail. “What is it, Jimmy?” she called to him.

  “Mrs. Spencer said I should ask if you needed anything else, Ma’am,” he said, appearing to be suddenly nervous.

  Mary smiled at him. “I would grateful if you could take some books to my room. They are rather large and heavy. I will show you which ones.”

  Jimmy hesitated outside the doorway. “I’m afraid I can’t go in there, Ma’am,” he said.

  “It will be all right,” Mary said. “I’ll explain to Mrs. Spencer that I asked you to.”

  Jimmy looked at the floor. “I can’t go in because I’m scared.”

  Mary rose from her seat and walked to be closer to Jimmy by the door. “What is there to be scared of?” she asked, motioning around the room. “There are just books.”

  “A man died in there…right where you were sitting at the desk, Ma’am,” he replied.

  Mary suddenly felt goosebumps cover her arms and her h
eartbeat quickened. She attempted to compose herself. “Did one of the maids tell you that?” she asked.

  Jimmy shook his head.

  “Jimmy, come down to the kitchen to help Mrs. Malone with lunch,” Mrs. Spencer said as she approached. Jimmy left quickly for the servants’ quarters and Mrs. Spencer began to close the double doors to the library. “Oh, forgive me, Mrs. Hamilton. I didn’t know anyone was in here. Violet fell asleep in my arms so I laid her in the cradle.”

  “I am grateful to you, Mrs. Spencer. Um—I have just learned that Jimmy is afraid to come into the library,” Mary said.

  Mrs. Spencer nodded. “He’s been that way since he first came to work here, Madam. I’ve tried to tell him there is nothing to fear. The boy has a vivid imagination.”

  “I see,” said Mary. “I am going upstairs to check on Clara now. Will you set tea for us in the upstairs sitting room?”

  “Miss Clara is already having her tea in the drawing room,” explained Mrs. Spencer. As she was speaking, Clara emerged from the drawing room and began walking toward them.

  “Mary,” Clara said quietly. “Thank you for coming back.” Mrs. Spencer took it as her cue to let the ladies speak privately.

  “I am sorry I left like that,” Mary apologized, finding it difficult to look Clara in the eye. “Please forgive me.”

  “I’m not sure if you will forgive me, Mary. I was in the drawing room just now taking tea with your moth—” Clara barely stopped herself in time, “—with Mrs. Davenport.”

  Mary tensed up. “She is here right now?”

  “Yes, and I think you should hear her out. You may get some answers that will help you. If you’ll excuse me, I have to find some documents in the library to discuss with her.”

  Mary remembered what William and Abigail said about making amends. She felt her teeth clench at the thought of going into the drawing room just then. “I will see her for a moment, but I can’t promise I will stay,” Mary said reluctantly. She went to the drawing room and lowered herself onto the chaise lounge, the furthest seat from where Mrs. Davenport sat on the sofa. The ticking of the clock was all that was heard for the minutes that felt like hours.