by Marie Silk
Finally, Mrs. Davenport broke the silence. “I never meant to hurt him, Mary.”
Mary crossed her arms over her chest and spoke in a low voice. “Then what did you suppose would happen when you poisoned his drink?” Mary heard the sofa creak like Mrs. Davenport had turned to face her, but Mary did not want to look at her.
“The doctor told me it was a sedative. I never would have dreamed of harming your father.”
“So you put drugs in his drink without his knowledge. How is that any better?” Mary asked bitterly.
“I was trying to help,” Mrs. Davenport said firmly. “Believe what you will.”
“Clara said I should hear you out,” Mary said, stiffening her back. “I am only here as a favor to her.”
Mrs. Davenport seemed to be getting agitated. “I would tell you, but you don’t seem interested in listening to what really happened anyway.”
The clock continued ticking loudly. Mary wondered how much longer Clara would be before she returned with the documents from the library. “I will listen,” she said at last.
“Your father was not well in those days. It all began when he received news that greatly troubled him. He wouldn’t leave his library, and his attendance at meals became sporadic. He started making rash decisions and I was afraid for the state of his mind and the future of our estate. I begged your father to see the doctor, but he refused. That is why I put the sedative in his drink. I hoped it would help him to calm down and return to his former self.”
“What was the news that he received?” Mary questioned.
Mrs. Davenport shrugged. “Heaven only knows—he wouldn’t tell me. But he insisted he would change his Will and claim the housekeeper’s daughter as his heir! I was only trying to save him from himself, and protect the inheritance of our children.”
“And then your plan was to send me to a lunatic hospital once I inherited the estate. I saw the document that Dr. Jones gave you,” said Mary.
“Dr. Jones assured me that you would be treated and released within a week’s time. You weren’t well, Mary, and in no condition to run the estate.”
“What about when I was running the estate after that, and you came to take it all away from me by revealing that I was never my father’s child? You led Clara to believe that she could claim the estate for herself—but it was all a deception. You were just lying in wait to take everything for yourself.”
Mrs. Davenport shrugged again. “I did those things for you, Mary. I couldn’t bear to see the estate run into the ground. I knew I could manage it efficiently and even arrange an advantageous marriage for you. I saw no reason why Clara should have gotten everything while you had nothing. I did my best to protect you from the knowledge that she was your father’s daughter. I imagined you would only be hurt if you knew the truth. I even offered a great deal of money to her mother so she could start a new life with Clara somewhere else.”
“Yes, I heard all about it. When that didn’t work, you tried to convince me that Clara was stealing from me so I would send her away,” Mary said in disgust. “You took the jewelry yourself!”
“Oh Mary,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I only took the necklace and brooch you never cared for in the first place. You’ll remember that I was sure to save the gold bracelet from your father. I knew it was your favorite. Don’t you see that everything I have done is so that you could live a grand life, free from scandal? You could have been wealthy beyond your imagination right now if you married the man I chose for you. Honestly, Mary, I’m surprised you have not been more grateful since you learned that I took you in. You could have been left to die in the streets like so many unwanted children, yet I gave you the life of a privileged daughter. You never wanted for anything while I ran the house.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you? You treated everyone horribly yet you justify it to yourself a hundred ways. I can’t believe you have been corresponding with Clara and I never knew a thing about it.”
“She kept it from you to spare your feelings. I’m sure you can understand that, Mary. You’ve done the same to her…or have you finally decided to tell her that you ran into Joe Blake?”
Mary stood up quickly to close the door of the drawing room and turned back to face Mrs. Davenport. “How could you possibly know that?”
Mrs. Davenport shrugged. “I keep an ear out, Mary. It’s how anyone survives in this world anymore. You even walked right past me that day as you left the hotel. You seemed too busy to notice.”
A sudden look of realization came over Mary’s face. “You are the mystery writer for the gossip column, aren’t you! I should have known when those stories began to surface that only you would have such condemning information on the townspeople and be happy to use it against them. I’m surprised you didn’t use your column to reveal to the world that Joe was in town and make Clara even more upset!”
“The people in my gossip column had it coming, Mary. You need not feel sorry for them at all. But you should know by now that I would never do a thing to bring public scandal on this house. All I have done is try to save it so that you could have a future. I am not here to hurt you or Clara or anyone. I’m here to help.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Your actions have meant nothing but misery for Clara and me!”
“How could you say that, Mary? Ever since you came into my home, I did everything for you to have the best in life. Did you know that I dismissed my own attending maid so that we could afford your debutante ball? Oh I suppose I was harsh on Clara all those years because I worried she would take away what was yours. Can’t you see that I have done these things for you?”
Mary put her hands on her hips. “I know the truth about my birth and why you took me. I know you lied about being pregnant so your husband wouldn’t divorce you! You probably lied about Richard being his child too, now that I think about it.”
“How dare you!” Mrs. Davenport said angrily. “I was never unfaithful to James! You have no idea what really happened in those days. If you did, you would never accuse me like this.” She turned to face away from Mary and crossed her arms over her chest. “I hoped you would someday appreciate how much I sacrificed for you after your own parents cast you away. I gave you a chance to live better than you possibly could have on the streets.”
Mary felt her jaw clench again. “I wasn’t cast aside. I was taken forcefully from parents who loved me! I know who my parents are and I know the truth about everything!”
Mrs. Davenport was skeptical. “What do you mean you were taken forcefully? How do you know who your parents are?”
Mary looked at her to study her face. It seemed clear that Mrs. Davenport was in the dark about Mary’s true mother and father. Mary abruptly rose from her seat and left the drawing room. On her way up the grand staircase to her room, she saw the housekeeper arranging the flowers on the hall table. “Mrs. Spencer, where on earth is Clara?” asked Mary impatiently.
“Miss Clara left the house with Jimmy to visit the neighbor,” she answered.
Mary was dumbfounded. “Clara left the house? Oh I just don’t believe this!” She went to her room and opened the suitcase in which she packed her jewelry box the night before. She removed a folded paper from a hidden compartment of the jewelry box and sat on her bed to read it. Her head was spinning and she needed a moment to remember what was real.
Dearest Anna,
I pray this letter reaches you one day, when you are the fine lady you always deserved to be. Your father worries that he is to blame for not going for the doctor sooner, but it was never his fault. The doctor will not come for me, for he knows my secret and he wishes for the truth to die with me. When your father was imprisoned, I was poor and starving with no way to care for you. That was when the doctor found me. He said that an important lady would raise you in a grand house and that you would want for nothing. I could not give you up, but the doctor took you from me at my weakest moment and instructed the nurse to leave me to die. Th
e nurse would not obey the doctor, and helped me to find you. I arrived at Davenport House the next day and pleaded with the housekeeper to hire me as a nurse for the newborn baby. Mrs. Price showed pity on me when I convinced her that my own baby had died and that I had milk to nurse another. I was hired that moment, and neither Margaret nor anyone in the house knew that I was your true mother. I have loved to be by your side and watch you grow. I love you and your brother dearly. I know you will take care of him after I am gone because I see how much your heart cares for him, already knowing what your mind does not. Tell your father that I love him and that he has never done a thing wrong. I hid from the doctor for years whenever he was in the house, but one day he saw me. Now he refuses to help when he knows I will die. I know I am sinning by keeping it from John that you were not truly lost. I fear that if he discovers the doctor’s crimes, John will kill him and be hanged. I have come to peace with your being raised in Davenport House. I wished sometimes that I could take you away, but you are cared for by a kind man. I could not have given you the life that he will. I hope that my family will forgive me for this truth I have withheld. The nurse who helped me was called Anna. I must call you Mary in the house, but I have named you Anna in my heart. With my last breaths I give all my love to John, and to my children, Anna and Ethan.
Truly,
Your Mother
At the Valentis’ farmhouse, Clara arrived with Jimmy and proceeded to introduce him to Phillip. “Jimmy is now working at the house, but I thought you might like some help now that he is through with his morning chores.”
Phillip looked at Jimmy, then at Clara. “Thank you for the offer, Clara. I could use the help, but if the boy has been working all morning already, I’m not sure I can accept.”
“It’s all right, Sir. I like doing the work,” Jimmy said happily. He began moving the damaged parts of the wall outside the house as he had observed Phillip doing when they got there.
“He seems a good boy,” Phillip remarked to Clara. “I could be done with this kitchen in no time if I had someone hauling out the refuse and building up this chimney.”
“Then I am glad I brought him over,” Clara replied. “Oh Phillip, I just had to get away from the house. I’m afraid I may have done something terrible, but I don’t know for certain!”
Phillip laughed. “How can you not know whether you have done something terrible?”
Clara covered her face with her hands. “I invited Mrs. Davenport to the house…and I left Mary alone with her just now!”
“Oh boy,” Phillip said with a cringe. “Why did you invite her in? I remember how much trouble she gave you before.”
Clara sighed. “It’s a long story, and I really should get back to the house before Mary decides never to speak to me again.”
“I hope you come back and tell me the story when you have more time. You have me curious now,” Phillip said, beginning to welcome a distraction from his labor.
“Then I will return tomorrow,” Clara promised. “Who knows, you may be the only person still willing to speak with me by then!” Phillip chuckled as she left the house. He gratefully accepted Jimmy’s help with the repairs for the rest of the day.
Back at Davenport House, Mary returned to the drawing room where Mrs. Davenport was still seated on the sofa. “Mary, I did not think you would come back. I’m beginning to think Clara isn’t going to return with the documents she left for. I won’t disturb either of you any longer.” Mrs. Davenport took her cane and rose from the sofa.
“Wait,” Mary said, hardly believing that she had uttered a word that could prolong Mrs. Davenport’s visit. “Something has been on my mind that I can’t make sense of, but I think you know the answer. Who was I named after?”
Mrs. Davenport seemed surprised by the question. “You weren’t named after anyone in the family tree. Your father had decided on your name before we ever expected to have a daughter. I agreed in order to make him happy.”
Mary looked at her skeptically, then asked her question. “Then whose grave is that on the estate—the one that is not within our family cemetery?”
Mrs. Davenport appeared to grow sad. “That is a big question…but I will answer if it gives you some solace. She deserved a place in the family cemetery, but it was impossible to do so under the circumstances. She is the daughter that I lost while your father was away. I wasn’t lying when I told him I was pregnant. I knew that James would be devastated and never forgive himself if he knew I went into labor as soon as his carriage left the drive. He said the only reason he had not divorced me was because I was having his child. It did not stop him from leaving me out of anger that day. Dr. Jones was there to help me deliver. But the baby died in my arms just after the birth. I lost my husband and our daughter on the same day. I became desperate to give him a daughter so that it might be as if she had lived. Dr. Jones explained that I could adopt a baby girl and my husband would never know the difference. I agreed because I did not know what else to do. The groundskeeper helped me with the baby’s burial and I paid him well to keep her grave hidden and secret. I suppose I must have paid him too well, because not long after, he left for another town to start a life with his newfound wealth.
“I was in utter distress over losing the baby, Mary. I worried that your father would return home and accuse me of lying again if I had no child to show for my pregnancy. Yes, I had him believe you were ours. Dr. Jones arranged it all. Like I say, I was desperate nearly to the point of madness. And in my heart I wished it were true—that my daughter was alive. I hope you never know the pain of the loss of a child.”
Mary felt hot tears behind her eyes when she considered how it would have felt to lose Violet. She had the urge to check on her just then. “I am returning upstairs,” Mary said quietly. “I’m afraid I don’t know when Clara will be back to speak with you.”
“There is something else you should hear, Mary. I know you partly blame Dr. Jones for what happened to your father, but you should be aware that he has returned to Yorktown…as the resident doctor of the new hospital.”
Mary was aghast. “How can that be? I thought he was sentenced to be hanged!”
“He was pardoned, Mary. During the shortage of doctors and able bodies, many prisoners were pardoned because of the War. This makes me no happier than it makes you. I’m still angry with him for deceiving me about what I put in my husband’s drink. I wish I would have known what sort of person he was before it was too late.”
“Dr. Jones is a murderer and doesn’t deserve to live!” cried Mary. “He killed my mother!”
“What? Mary, how could you think such a thing?”
Mary pulled the letter from her pocket and showed it to her. Mrs. Davenport appeared bewildered at first as if she could not tell what she was reading. Then she sank back down into the sofa with eyes wide with horror. She read the letter twice over. It was one of the rare times in her life that Mrs. Davenport was rendered speechless.
“I was never an unwanted child. I was stolen from my own mother,” Mary said in resentment.
Mrs. Davenport gave her back the letter. “I never would have agreed to it if I knew about this, of course. Dr. Jones deceived us all.”
“And he deserves to pay for his crimes, “ Mary said, her voice shaking with emotion. “Surely you can do something about it, now that you know.”
“What can I do?”
“You have the ear of everyone who reads the paper. You could have him run out of town, if you really wanted to help,” Mary said.
“I—I don’t know, Mary,” Mrs. Davenport stammered. “The paper has already warned me about saying too much about the townspeople. If I wrote a piece on Dr. Jones, I could lose the column for good.”
Mary returned her hands to her hips, her anger toward Mrs. Davenport boiling fiercely. “You were quick enough to threaten William with being run out of town when it suited you—and William was innocent! You could have destroyed my family! How am I supposed to believe that you really care about any of
us?”
Mrs. Davenport was unapologetic. “Oh come now, Mary. Did you forget that we were at War with the Germans? You were putting yourself in danger by being involved with him at such a time. Furthermore, he had no means to provide you with any decent standard of living. I was only trying to protect you, just as I have your whole life! ”
Mary turned her back on her and was about to exit the room. Mrs. Davenport continued speaking. “I know you resent me for the choices I’ve made, but I wish you would see that everything I have done is for your benefit. You may see it as overbearing, but I could not help myself once I learned of your condition. You were so sickly as an infant that the doctors did not expect you to live to your first birthday. I did everything I could to keep you safe and indoors where you could not be injured. Oh I could have strangled your father when he got you that horse to ride…”
“What condition are you talking about?” Mary asked, her back still turned to her.
“I took you to every specialist in Pennsylvania and New York. You would often faint and were terribly slow to heal. The doctors said your blood was weak and that even the most trivial injury could be fatal for you.”
Mary thought about the scar from her operation. Tears began to fall down her face. “I hear my baby crying upstairs,” she murmured. “I must go to her.”
As Mary was leaving the drawing room, Clara was about to walk in with the file of documents. “I’m sorry I took so long to return,” she apologized to Mary. “Do you understand now why I asked her to come?”
Mary was drained from the conversation that just took place. She wiped her tired eyes and looked sadly at Clara before walking away. “You might trust her…but I don’t and never will. I’m sorry, Clara.”
Chapter 10
“Mr. Valenti is here to see you, Madam,” Mrs. Spencer announced to Clara
“He is?” Clara asked in surprise. “Thank you, Mrs. Spencer. Please tell Phillip that I will meet him in the drawing room in just a few moments.” She smoothed her hair and dress while checking her reflection in the vanity mirror. She soon arrived in the drawing room to see Phillip, who wore his suit that day.
