by Marie Silk
“It was a lovely dinner. It was very kind of Serena to tell your parents such nice things about me.”
“It was well-deserved, I’m sure,” Phillip said. “Uh—Clara—my parents seemed to have made up their minds that you and I had an understanding—and that I was bringing you home to meet them. I’m sorry if anything they said to you was improper.”
“You really must stop apologizing, Phillip,” she responded. “It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Honestly.”
They sat in silence for the rest of the drive home. When they arrived at the farmhouse, Clara helped put the children to bed.
Gabriella looked at her father sleepily. “The city was so noisy, Papa. I am glad we are home now so we can sleep all night.”
“But the city is not so bad, is it?” he asked her. “Wouldn’t you like to try living there sometime?”
Gabriella shook her head. “There was nowhere for me and Donnie to play except in the house. I missed our property…and having Miss Clara for a neighbor.”
“Me too,” said Donnie.
“Now that you are home in your own bed, it is time for sleep,” said Phillip. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Papa,” they replied.
On the short drive over to Davenport House, Clara spoke to Phillip. “The next time you visit your family in Pittsburgh and want some company, I hope you’ll ask me.”
“Sure I will,” replied Phillip. “I suppose it wasn’t so bad after all. You know, that wasn’t the first time we drove to Pittsburgh together. Do you remember?”
Clara thought back. “I can’t remember. Why did we go?”
“You had an address you wanted me to take you to. It wasn’t far from my parents’ house where we just visited. I remember it well because you seemed anxious on that trip, especially after you spoke to the man at the door.” Phillip could feel himself turning red, but he finished his story anyway. “You held onto me all the way back to the car. I felt so angry at whoever had made you that upset, but it wasn’t my place to speak up about it. I wished I could have done something to help.”
“I remember now,” she said quietly. “It was an address where Lawrence was having his mail sent. I was such a fool to trust him.”
Phillip parked the car in its rightful place in front of the house. Clara seemed distraught when he opened her door and walked her to the front steps. “I’m sorry, Clara. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that day.”
“Oh—no—I’m not upset about that,” Clara stuttered, her voice catching in her throat. “I’ve just noticed that Mary’s car is gone. She would not still be out this late unless she decided to stay with William at the clinic. What if she cannot forgive me?”
“I’m sorry, Clara. If you need someone to talk to, you know I’ll be just next door.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Goodnight, Phillip.”
“Goodnight,” he answered. He watched her walk through the entrance of the imposing house, then he walked back to his home. He was relieved to finally remove his suit jacket and begin to relax for the day. He hung his jacket over the bureau and reached into the pocket for the envelope that his father had given him. As he was counting the money, a shiny metal object between the bills caught his eye. He carefully took it out and looked at it in the candlelight. It was his mother’s ring.
In the city of Yorktown, Mary was parking her car in front of the new hospital. Her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest, but she was determined to go inside. She climbed out of her car in the dark and approached the entrance of the hospital. Her stomach turned when she saw Dr. Jones through the clear windows. He was sitting behind a desk and looking over ledgers. Mary knocked on the glass door. Dr. Jones looked up from the ledgers and went to open the door for her.
“Mary,” he said in bewilderment, yet smiling with his teeth. “Or I suppose I should address you as ‘Mrs. Hamilton’ now. Things have certainly changed in the last five years, haven’t they? You must be here to check out the competition.” He laughed nervously.
Mary pushed past him into the hospital, feeling her heart pounding loudly in her ears. “No Dr. Jones, I have not come here to check out the competition. I have come for a different reason entirely.”
Chapter 11
The next morning at Davenport House, Clara dined at the breakfast table alone. She wondered if it was the life she should be getting used to—a life without Mary in the house. She was glad to hear footsteps approaching the dining room. “William!” she said in surprise. “It’s been ages since you had breakfast with us. You must have arrived late last night.”
William looked tired as though it had been awhile since he last slept. “No, I just arrived. Have you seen Mary this morning? I thought she would be in here having breakfast.”
“Usually she is, but I haven’t seen her. I thought she was with you.”
“No, she wasn’t with me,” William said. “I’ll go upstairs to see her. I have some news.”
“Good morning,” Mary said cheerfully as she entered the dining room. “William, hello.” She stood on her tiptoes and put her arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” he said, holding her close. “Something happened in town. It’s rather morbid, but it could mean change for us.”
Mary went to the buffet and piled her plate high with breakfast foods. “What happened in town?” she asked as she sat down to eat.
“Perhaps I should have waited until you had already eaten to tell you the news,” William said quietly.
“You can tell me now,” she said. “Forgive me, William. I am starved.”
William sighed heavily. “I didn’t know how to tell you this, but Dr. Jones, your family doctor from before, came back into town some days ago.”
Mary groaned. “Don’t worry, William. I was already made aware. Is that all the news you have?”
“No, there is more,” he said. “This morning, Dr. Jones was found dead in the new hospital.”
Mary shrugged as she focused on her plate. “Pity it didn’t happen sooner.”
“Mary!” gasped Clara. “It’s a sin to speak ill of the dead.”
Mary ignored her comment. “Surely the board of directors will want you to work for them now, William. They’ll need a new doctor.”
William was taken aback by her flippancy. “I imagine the board will be asking me to fill in shortly. I thought you would want to know.”
“I’m sure you will get the position, William. You deserve it more than anyone,” Mary said between mouthfuls of food.
William served a plate for himself but did not sit at the table. “I can’t stay long. I’m going upstairs to see our daughter.”
After William left the room, Clara watched Mary as she finished her large plate. Mary looked up at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“You seem different today. Are you feeling all right?”
Mary smiled. “I am feeling very well, thank you.”
Clara managed a smile. “That’s good to hear, Mary. I’m at least grateful that you are still speaking to me…after I invited your mother here to talk.”
“I can’t say I’m happy about it, Clara. I’m worried that she has come to take advantage of you at a vulnerable time, and that you are too good-natured to see it.”
Clara looked at her plate and said, “In her letter, she apologized for how she treated me and Mother in the past. I nearly fainted when I read it. I could not believe she said it. Did you ever know her to truly apologize—to anyone—for anything?”
Mary thought about it. “I don’t think she has. At least not to me.” She rose from her seat and walked around the table to kiss Clara on the cheek. “I just want you to be all right, Clara. I do love you like a sister, you know.”
Clara felt her heart jump at Mary’s words. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I needed to hear that today.”
In the city of Yorktown, a detective called Giovanni visited William at the clinic. �
��Dr. Hamilton,” he began. “You have probably heard the news about Dr. Jones.”
“I have,” William answered solemnly.
“A police investigation of the death is underway and we hoped that you would perform the autopsy.”
“Of course. I am at your service,” William said. He followed Giovanni to the new hospital and met the police chief at the scene.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Hamilton,” Chief Reynolds greeted him. “I’m sorry to call you over on such dreary business. We are sure there are signs of struggle, but we want your input on what could have been used as the murder weapon.”
“Murder?” William asked. “Do you have a suspect?”
“We haven’t gotten quite that far in the investigation. I’m afraid we’ll have our work cut out for us once we do. Apparently, the doctor had a good many enemies,” answered the chief.
“I see,” said William. After performing his examination of the body, he returned to the chief, who stood with Giovanni at the desk by the hospital entrance.
“Well Doctor, what do you think?” the chief asked.
“I’ve written my findings here,” William said, handing him a paper. “Skull fracture, blunt force trauma to the head.”
The chief skimmed over the paper. “Thank you. We don’t have much to go on at this point, but it’s certain the death is suspicious. We think it may have been one of his own patients.”
William raised his eyebrows. “That’s—terrifying,” he said. “Why do you suspect a patient?”
Giovanni held out a book to show him. “Here is the patient sign-in register. The page from yesterday has been torn out of the register and is nowhere to be found. The only other thing out of place is this piece of lady’s jewelry. It could have been left by anyone really, but since the hospital just opened days ago, it should not be too hard to locate the owner.”
William immediately recognized the gold bracelet on the desk as being identical to one that Mary had. “I should be getting back to the clinic now, if you are finished with my services,” he said.
“That should be all, Dr. Hamilton,” answered Giovanni. “Thank you for your help.”
Back at Davenport House, Mary had just laid Violet down to sleep and was heading downstairs to the library. She saw Jimmy washing the marble floors at the bottom of the staircase.
“ ‘Afternoon, Mrs. Hamilton,” he said with a smile.
“Good afternoon, dear,” she replied. Jimmy’s cheerfulness was often contagious and Mary found herself smiling when he was near. “How are you enjoying your work here, Jimmy?”
“I like it, Ma’am. This is the grandest house I’ve ever been in. It’s an honor to keep it clean and sparkly.”
“And you are doing a lovely job,” Mary told him. “I’m going into the library now and I wondered if you might like to have a look inside. You’ll need to go into the library to clean eventually. The bookshelves get very dusty, you see. I am in there nearly every day and I promise it’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Jimmy shrugged with reluctance. “If you insist, Mrs. Hamilton. I will go into the library with you.”
She led him through the double doors and watched him gaze in awe at the rows of books. “Well Jimmy, what do you think?”
“It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be,” he said, then pointed to a bookcase. “Is that the one with the secret door behind it?”
Mary giggled. “Not that one. I will show it to you. Did Mrs. Spencer tell you about the corridor?”
“No Ma’am. When I mentioned it to Mrs. Spencer, she didn’t know what I was talking about. She thought I was making it up.”
“Oh,” Mary said, furrowing her brow. “Then how did you know about it?” She reached into the bookcase and pulled the metal latch, causing the bookcase to swing away from the wall.
“My grandmother told me about it,” Jimmy said. “Can I see the inside?”
“Of course,” Mary said slowly. “I will show you where it comes out on the other end. I used to love to play in here when I was about your age.” As they walked through the corridor, Mary wondered how Jimmy’s grandmother would have known about it. After they made it through the other side, Mary asked him, “How do you suppose your grandmother knew about the passageway?”
“My grandmother knows everything about this house, Ma’am. She used to live here,” answered Jimmy.
Mary looked at him curiously. “What is your grandmother’s name?”
Jimmy squinted his eyes as if trying to remember. “I don’t know her name, Ma’am. I just call her ‘Grandmother’.”
“Of course,” said Mary. They returned to the bottom of the staircase where Jimmy resumed his scrubbing of the floors. Mary was about to go upstairs, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the things the servant boy had told her. She turned again to Jimmy, who was humming contentedly as he dried the floor with a linen. “Jimmy, what is your surname?”
He stood up from the floor and wiped his hands on the sides of his pants. “My surname is Davenport, Ma’am. Same as Miss Clara’s.”
Mary was nearly speechless as she wondered how it could be possible. “Who are your parents?” she questioned.
Jimmy hung his head. “Grandmother said that my father fought in the War, but he didn’t come back. Mother died after getting real sick. So my grandmother took care of me…but then she got real sick too.”
“I am sorry about your parents,” Mary said compassionately, but she was no less bewildered by his responses. “I’m proud of you for going into the library with me today.”
“Thank you for showing me the secret passageway, Ma’am. I suppose that library isn’t so bad after all.”
Mary went up the stairs and passed Mrs. Spencer in the hallway. “Mrs. Spencer,” she began. “I just showed Jimmy around the library.”
“Oh, I’m glad you managed to persuade him. He had so many stories about the library, but he was still too scared to step inside.”
“Where did you find Jimmy when you hired him?” Mary questioned.
Mrs. Spencer smiled to remember it. “He was hired at Miss Clara’s request.”
“Clara requested that you hire Jimmy—specifically?”
“Yes, Madam,” she answered. “She is taking tea in the upstairs sitting room just now. Would you like to join her?”
“Yes, Mrs. Spencer. I will join Clara in just a moment.” Mary went to her bedroom where the family Bible still lay on her nightstand. She looked through the register of relatives’ names several times in an attempt to discover if Jimmy could be right about being a Davenport. She could not find answers in all her searching. She tucked the family Bible under her arm and went into the sitting room where Clara sat in front of the fireplace. Clara appeared to be deep in thought.
“Good afternoon, Mary,” she said quietly.
“Good afternoon,” Mary replied. She sat on the settee next to Clara. “I just had the strangest conversation with Jimmy.”
Clara smiled endearingly. “He is a darling, isn’t he?”
“Yes certainly,” Mary said quickly. “But do you know who he is?”
“Of course I know who he is,” Clara answered. “I thought you did too.”
“I have no idea,” Mary said. “Jimmy claims to be a Davenport and he seems to know things about this house—well that no one else could know. I just don’t see how it’s possible.”
“Jimmy is Richard’s son…which also makes him my nephew,” Clara replied.
Mary was stunned. “How did you find out about him?”
“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Mary. Your mother explained everything in her letter to me. I thought she must have told you when she was here the other day.”
“She never said a thing about Jimmy,” Mary said, her mind still racing to process the revelation.
“I will get the letter from my room. It’s time you read it for yourself so you understand why I am doing what I am.” Clara returned shortly with several folded papers. Mary took them from her and b
egan to read.
Clara,
You must be surprised to hear from me at a time like this, but the real estate office is under instruction to notify me if Davenport House goes to sale. I have just learned of your intentions to sell but I must urge you not to sell the house or any part of the estate. Our country is heading into terrible times such as it has never seen before. Your estate will sustain you during these hard times, but only if you take measures to expand now and keep it profitable. The riots on Wall Street are just the beginning of widespread financial hardship. You might think that things seem bad now in town with the unemployment line, but they will only get worse in the coming years.
You likely question my motives for cautioning you in this matter. The truth is that I need something from you. It involves my grandson, your own nephew, whom you have never heard of. I saw to it that no one knew of Richard’s son born out of wedlock. The boy’s mother passed on from influenza and I have been raising him on my own ever since. I cannot care for him in my current circumstances as I have recently moved into a hotel room in the Yorktown Inn. Jimmy is all I have left of my family. I must leave him in capable hands and that is why I am writing you today. I will give you plans for development that will make the estate flourish. I only ask that my grandson be cared for in your house. He already knows the meaning of hard work. I would not object to you taking him on as a servant while you decide what role he is to have in the house, but I think you will understand the importance of family the instant you meet Jimmy. Provide a home for my grandson and I will advise you on how to make your holdings last a lifetime.
I was very sorry to hear about your mother’s passing. Mrs. Price was as much a part of the house as any of the family. I regret my actions toward the both of you and I hope you will accept my apology and condolences.
Regards,
Margaret Davenport
Mary shook her head in disbelief. “This is shocking,” she said quietly. “If she is good at anything, it is keeping secrets.”
“The letter came to me when I was very low. I was devastated after Joe abandoned me. I did not feel that I had any purpose to live for. But when I learned about Jimmy, I thought I could have purpose again. My mother and father are gone, leaving me with no family to speak of. At least, that is what I thought. The reason I hired Jimmy as a servant was so he could experience the other side of what it’s like to live in the house. I don’t want him to take anything for granted once I decide to move him upstairs.”
