by Marie Silk
“I can leave this minute, if you wish,” Phillip replied eagerly.
Mary sighed in relief. “Very well. I will order the carriage for you now. I must tell Peter Ross that this will be his last drive for us. As for the position of chauffeur for our household, Mr. Valenti, I must consult with my sister before I make a decision. I want to be sure there is no trouble with Clara.”
Abigail took a tray of dinner to Ethan and his father as she had done in the two days before. She still had not seen them since she found the note on their doorstep, and neither of the men had answered when Abigail knocked at the door. She would have been more concerned if the plates she delivered the other nights were not cleaned and stacked neatly in front of the door the following day. She laid the dinner tray on the landing and began to collect the other tray with the clean dishes. The door slowly opened in front of her.
“Oh, good evening, Mr. Smith,” she said in surprise. “I have brought dinner for you.” She stood up with the new dinner tray.
“Thank you, Young Lady. You have been kind to see to it that we receive food from the kitchen,” he answered quietly. Abigail observed that he looked tired and had dark circles under his eyes, but he did not appear to be suffering from typhoid.
“Is Ethan alright?” she asked him.
“Why don’t you see him for yourself,” John Smith answered while opening the door for her. He led her to the open door of Ethan’s bedroom, then turned to walk away. Abigail could see Ethan lying on the floor asleep. She carefully walked toward him and knelt down to the floor beside him. She leaned forward to press the back of her hand to his forehead. She gasped as she suddenly felt his arms slide around her waist and pull her closer to him.
Abigail could now see that although Ethan’s eyes were closed, his lips were curved in a smile. Abigail giggled as she pulled herself back to a sitting position. “Then you cannot be so very ill after all,” she remarked.
Ethan opened his eyes and looked up at her, grateful to see her pretty face. “You look like an angel,” he told her. “I missed you.”
Abigail smiled and blushed. “I missed you as well. I must speak to you when you are recovered,” she said quietly.
“Oh Abigail, I was never ill in the first place,” he admitted.
She gasped. “What do you mean? You had me and everyone at the house worried sick!” she scolded. “There is typhoid fever in town, and we were afraid you had it, too.”
“I am sorry to worry you. I have not been able to face anyone after what I learned about my family. If we are to be married, there are things you need to know,” he said seriously.
“ ‘If’ we are to be married? Have you changed your mind?” she asked in a panic.
“No, of course not,” he answered, forcing a smile. Ethan sat up from the floor and faced Abigail, looking into her eyes intently. He reached up and she soon felt the warmth of his hand against her cheek. “I wish we were married right now,” he whispered.
Abigail took a deep breath. Her stomach twisted in knots while her heart fluttered from his touch. “I must tell you something about me. I do not hold the same faith as you.”
“You don’t?” he asked in surprise.
“No, I am Catholic. I am not allowed to marry a non-Catholic in my church, but if you still wish to marry me, we may have your minister be the one to marry us,” she answered quickly.
Ethan smiled. “We can have whatever sort of wedding you would like,” he said gently.
Abigail breathed in relief. “Truly? Then you do not mind?”
Ethan shook his head. “Just tell me what to do and I will be there.”
“What about your pa?” she whispered. “Would he mind terribly?”
“It is fine with me, Young Lady,” called John Smith’s voice from the sitting room.
Abigail giggled. Her future father-in-law never seemed to miss a thing. “Oh goodness, I cannot believe that I was so worried for no reason. The truth is, I am afraid to have a ceremony where everyone will be looking at me. I would rather get married in a quiet setting.”
“I would too,” Ethan agreed with a smile. “But now I have something to tell you. Wait here a moment.” Ethan left briefly and returned with a paper in his hand. “Pa showed me this letter just days ago. It was written by my mother. We had never read it before now. You should see it, and perhaps you can help me understand what should be done about it.” Abigail gently took the paper from him and began to read.
Mary was pleased when Phillip Valenti drove up to house in a shiny black Maxwell just before dinner. She clasped her hands together in delight. “Oh, it is marvelous! I cannot believe that it belongs to me!”
Phillip smiled at her. “Peter Ross should be along in a few hours,” he said. “I am glad the car meets with your expectations, Miss Mary.”
“It does indeed. I cannot wait to show William. If it was safe to see him at the clinic, I would leave this instant!” she cried happily.
Clara exited the front door of the house to see what the commotion was about. When she observed that Phillip was there, she awkwardly stood at a distance. “You decided to take the chauffeur position after all,” she remarked in a kinder tone than Phillip or Mary were expecting.
“I did,” Phillip replied nervously. “If you are not agreeable to it—”
“Oh, do not worry about any of that,” Clara interrupted with a wave of her hand. “I am quite recovered. In fact, I will be getting a motor car with my own chauffeur. You need not worry about driving me anywhere.” Clara nodded toward Mary and went back into the house. Mary was surprised to see her sister seeming sociable once more.
In the servants’ quarters, Mrs. Price approached Fiona about the change in staff. “Peter Ross will be leaving in the morning as his employment has come to an end. I have decided to take an upstairs room to be closer to my daughter. With only female staff remaining in the servants’ quarters, I do not feel that it is necessary for me to keep my room here to watch over you. You may have my old room after I move my things tomorrow,” she explained. “You need not share with Bridget any longer.”
Fiona was pleased with this news. She never had her own room before, and Mrs. Price’s was more spacious than the room Fiona now shared with her sister. She went to find Bridget.
“I have good news for you,” Fiona said to Bridget. “Mrs. Price is moving upstairs and I will move into the housekeeper’s quarters. You will have your own room, and I will have mine!”
“How wonderful! I wonder if Mother would believe that we each have a room to ourselves here,” she giggled. “We should write to her at once.”
Abigail was not at the dinner table that night. Mrs. Price, Mary, and Clara dined quietly. It was Mrs. Price who finally broke the silence. “I have arranged to have my things moved to an upstairs bedroom near you, Clara,” she announced with a smile. “Peter Ross leaves tomorrow.”
“This is marvelous news, Mother! I was wondering how much longer you could stand living in the stuffy servants’ quarters. You will love it upstairs. I—I would like to announce my news as well,” Clara stammered. “I am getting a new automobile, just like Mary. I have already arranged it.”
Mrs. Price raised her eyebrows. “Whom did you arrange it with?”
“Oh Mother, you need not concern yourself with my affairs any longer. I have sold my land and will manage things myself from now on,” Clara answered casually.
Mary and Mrs. Price looked at her in disbelief. “You have sold your land?” Mary asked, thinking she cannot have heard Clara correctly.
“Yes. All of it,” Clara answered proudly. “As part of our business transaction, the agent has promised to send a chauffeur to the house with my new car. I cannot wait for it to arrive!”
Mrs. Price held her breath. “I hope that you did not accept a penny less than twenty thousand,” she said to Clara solemnly.
Clara appeared bewildered and did not answer. She looked down at her plate and suddenly felt that she had no appetite. “I am glad to have
the money more than the land,” she replied quietly. Mary and Mrs. Price did not know what to say after that, and the meal was finished in silence.
Abigail was still at the apartment above the stable. She paced back and forth in the small sitting room, wringing her hands in distress. Ethan and his father were seated there and watched her quietly.
“Now you see why I could not see anyone at the house,” Ethan remarked. “Should I put the letter into the fire?”
Abigail stopped in her tracks. “No!” she cried suddenly. “You cannot think of doing such a thing.”
“Then what should I do?” he pleaded. “If she discovers the truth, it will change everything. I could never forgive myself for taking away everything she’s ever known.”
Abigail looked sorrowful. “There is no simple answer to this. But Mary must be made aware at the very least. Perhaps we may leave the decision with her of what she will do with the information. If anyone else is to know, it must be she who tells it.”
Ethan nodded. “Which of us should tell her?”
Abigail took a deep breath. “The words would be impossible for me to utter. Come to the house first thing in the morning. We will tell Mary in her room, away from the others. I must return to the house now. I do not know how I will sleep tonight.”
“We won’t be sleeping either,” remarked John Smith. But even in his weary voice, there seemed to be a tone of relief, as if the heaviness he usually carried had somehow been lessened. Although Abigail had told them that she intended to return to the house, she continued to pace the room in front of Ethan and his father before finally settling down into a chair. She looked at the both of them in amazement, but no one said another word about it for the rest of the evening.
Clara retired to her room after dinner. Mary met Mrs. Price in the drawing room for tea. They watched the fire in the grand marble fireplace. “I am sorry for what my daughter has done, Miss Mary,” Mrs. Price apologized.
“I am afraid that I share the blame in this. I had considered placing Clara’s land into a trust instead of directly transferring the deeds. It was too much for her…I should have known better.”
“I hope the new owner is gracious to the tenants,” Mrs. Price remarked.
“I nearly fainted when Clara said that she has sold it all. Does she plan to live elsewhere?” asked Mary.
“My daughter does not share her plans with me,” replied Mrs. Price.
Mary sighed. “Perhaps when she finds that she regrets the sale, I might place twenty acres of my estate into trust for her. My father used to emphasize the importance of having land to fall back on.”
“You have already been generous to us when we never deserved it. Thank you, Miss Mary,” Mrs. Price said emotionally.
Mary managed a smile. “I believe it is what my father would have wanted. I hope that he is watching me now and is pleased with what I have done.”
Chapter 6
The next morning, Mary was at her vanity table staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror. She wondered if she should telephone William before breakfast, or if it would be a bad time at the clinic. If it was a bad time, she did not know when a good time would be. As she was pondering this, Bridget walked into her room with a breakfast tray. “Good morning, Miss,” she greeted, setting the tray on the table.
“Good morning, Bridget. Why have you brought me a tray? I was just about to leave for the dining room,” Mary said confused.
“Oh—you did not wish to have breakfast in your room?” asked Bridget. “Forgive me, Miss Mary, I was told to bring you a tray today.”
“Told by whom?” questioned Mary.
“Miss Abigail,” replied Bridget. “I will take it back to the kitchen if it was a misunderstanding.”
Mary heard a loud ringing sound coming from downstairs just then. She forgot about everything else and hurried out of the room. Mary held onto the rail as she ran down the grand staircase, thinking that any moment she might trip and fall. She made it to the library just as Fiona was answering the telephone.
“Dr. Hamilton to speak with you, Miss Mary,” Fiona announced, holding the receiver in her hand.
Mary eagerly took it from Fiona and spoke into the telephone. “William?”
“Good morning, Mary,” his voice answered cheerfully.
Mary sighed in relief. “Good morning! Is it safe to come to town now?” It was the only question she had.
“I believe so. The cases of fever have subsided. I never did find the source, but our last patient leaves today. I thought you might like to know. Have Ethan and John recovered?”
“I am not certain. I have not seen either of them, but Abigail has reported that they have eaten heartily this week,” Mary replied.
“I am glad to hear it. You have reminded me of how delicious the dinners are at Davenport House…” he trailed off.
Mary smiled. “Do you wish to join us for dinner?” she asked excitedly.
William laughed. “I cannot tell you how much I have longed to hear those words. I will see you tonight, Mary. I can’t wait. Goodbye for now.”
“Goodbye,” Mary responded. She placed the receiver into the cradle and covered her red cheeks with her hands. She thought about what jewelry she might wear tonight that could help her dreary black dress appear more cheerful.
Abigail entered the library just then. Mary told her the good news from William, but Abigail looked pale and distressed, as if the news meant nothing to her. “Mary—I have asked for your breakfast to be sent to your room today. There is a serious matter that we must discuss. In your room.”
Mary was confused, but went to her bedroom with Abigail. Mary was stunned to find Ethan waiting for her inside. “You look well!” she exclaimed in relief, but then began to panic. “Has something happened to your pa?”
“No, Miss Mary. We are well,” he answered quietly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “We were never ill. I am sorry to have worried you.”
“I don’t understand,” Mary responded. “What is happening? Why have you come to meet me here?”
Ethan stared at her in silence. He had been staring ever since Mary walked through the door. Abigail watched the two of them and finally spoke. “There is something you must see, Mary” she said gently. Abigail nodded toward Ethan to proceed.
Ethan took a deep breath and removed a folded paper from his pocket. “It is a letter. Pa never showed me until now. We didn’t know what to do at first, but now…it belongs to you,” He handed the paper to Mary with shaking hands.
Mary sat down on her bed and glanced at the first line. “I don’t understand. This is not addressed to me,” she remarked, looking up at Ethan and Abigail.
“You should brace yourself, Mary,” warned Abigail. “Read to the end.” Mary returned her gaze to the letter. She appeared confused at first, then held her breath until she had read every last word. Ethan rushed to Mary’s side as her eyes appeared to roll back and her body began to fall forward. Ethan caught her and lifted her gently upon the bed. Abigail began to cry and covered her face with her hands.
“Tell me that we did the right thing to show her!” Ethan cried.
Abigail looked at him helplessly. “I do not know!”
It was Peter Ross’s last day of employment at Davenport House. Mrs. Price collected the money from the sale of the horses and sent Peter away with his final wages.
“You have served our house faithfully for years, Mr. Ross. I am sorry to see you go,” Mrs. Price said kindly.
“I thank you for the additional wage you are sending with me. I expect I will go West now where most folks still have horses,” Mr. Ross replied quietly.
“I wish you all the best,” she said to him.
Mary had approved of Peter Ross being driven to the train station in the new car to begin the next chapter of his life. He gratefully climbed into the seat beside Phillip and they drove to town.
Mrs. Price went into the house to admire her new upstairs bedroom. Soft lace curtains graced t
he windows while filtered light flowed in from the outside, creating delicate patterns that danced on the walls. The bed was soft and luxurious. Mrs. Price thought about the days gone by when she was only a young woman engaged to a wealthy man. She had worked as a housemaid for the Davenport family, and eventually fell in love with the eldest son, James. He always treated her and the rest of the staff with kindness.
Mrs. Price recalled how she and James planned to elope until a jealous woman sabotaged their union. The room that Mrs. Price now chose to be her upstairs room had always been her favorite in the house. She would often dream of how she might have lived in the delightful room all this while if only James had married her as he promised. Mrs. Price would have been the Mistress of Davenport House, had it not been for the plots of a deceitful woman named Margaret.
When Mrs. Price was still a housemaid, she and James conceived a child during their secret engagement. Margaret was a beautiful Irish lady who was shrewd in business as well as romantic attachments. Her parents were acquaintances of the Davenports and Margaret had set her sights on James from a young age. Although Mrs. Price never told a soul of the pregnancy, Margaret found out and declared at the dinner table that the Davenport’s housemaid was with child. Mrs. Price was dismissed immediately. She wrote many letters to James, asking when they would finally marry. But Margaret had gotten to James before the marriage could take place. Margaret convinced him that a servant was the child’s true father. James soon married Margaret, but could not forget his first love. He allowed Mrs. Price to work in the new house in York County, where their daughter Clara was born. Mrs. Price always hoped that someday, her daughter might be recognized for who she truly was.
Clara was in her bedroom, counting the money in the envelope over and over. She placed five hundred dollars into the purse that she would bring with her for shopping. She worried over whether she could have sold the land for more money as her mother had suggested. Clara wondered if the amount that her mother had mentioned could have truly been obtained, or if her mother was only trying to shame her for selling her estate. Clara could hear a car driving toward the house just then. She looked at the drive from her bedroom window and gasped.
