by Marie Silk
“Has she been alright?” Ethan asked Abigail.
“Mary seems cheerful under the circumstances. Perhaps she has always known in her heart. But Ethan, how do you feel about it?”
He looked down. “I only hope she can be happy with us.”
Mary knocked on the door of the apartment where Ethan and his father lived. John was quick to open the door. Mary stood there awkwardly. “I have read the letter,” she said quietly. He nodded in response. “If it is not too difficult, would you please—tell me about my real family?” John Smith nodded again and invited Mary into the sitting room.
“Miss Mary, I thought that my mind was playing tricks on me all these years. When you would say a thing or your face looked a certain way, I thought, it is just what my little girl would have looked like if she had lived. Many times it was hard to be around you because I could not stop thinking of her. I guess I never thought—you could have been her all along.”
“I am sorry that it is difficult for me to address you as Father. It is what I am used to calling the man who raised me,” said Mary nervously.
“I understand,” John assured her. “Don’t you worry about that. It will take time for the news to sink in for all of us. The Master was a good man. I am glad to know it was he who raised you as his own, if it couldn’t have been me.”
“Would you really have killed the doctor, if you had known what he did?”
“Your mother knew me well. I was quicker to act in those days without thinking it through. I got mixed with the wrong people that got me in prison,” he answered with a sigh. “She was right to withhold it from me. I fear to think how I would have left my son an orphan, if I had known the truth.”
“But the law surely found you innocent if you were released from prison,” Mary said.
“That is another story, and it involves a woman who was kinder to me than I deserved. It was your mother’s sister, Louisa.”
Down in the stable, Abigail continued to talk with Ethan while she waited for Mary. “There must be plenty to say between those two,” Abigail remarked. “I wonder if Mary realizes it is nearly time for dinner.”
“I should bring the horses in,” said Ethan, stifling a yawn. “Pa and I have not slept much since reading that letter.”
Abigail stood up from the haystack. “I should be getting back to the house. I will instruct for Mary’s dinner to be taken to her room.” Mary walked into the stable just then. She looked very tired.
“I am going back to the house now. I think I will go right to sleep. Go ahead and have dinner without me, Abigail,” Mary told her. Ethan looked at Mary lovingly and hugged her goodbye. Mary smiled at him, then left the stable, seemingly in a daze.
Abigail started to follow Mary, but stumbled after a cracking sound was heard. Ethan quickly caught Abigail before she fell. “Are you alright?” he asked her. “What happened?”
“Oh dear, it is my shoe. The heel has finally broken off. I meant to see the cobbler before this happened,” she answered.
Ethan still held her and smiled. “I can carry you back to the house,” he offered.
Abigail felt her cheeks burning. “I do not want to be any trouble. I am certain that I can walk.”
“You are never any trouble, Abigail,” he chuckled as he lifted her in his arms. “I don’t mind one bit.”
Most everyone had retired to bed after dinner. Bridget sat on the bed in Fiona’s new room in the servant’s quarters. Fiona was marking her checklist with a pen to assure that everything had been done for the day. “Fiona,” her sister began. “Do you think we will ever see Mother and Father again?”
Fiona sighed. “I do miss them. I especially miss our sisters. But we are needed here, Bridget. It is because of you and me that our family is able to eat every night. Mother wrote to me just today that she is with child again.”
“Oh, I do hope it is a boy this time!” exclaimed Bridget with a smile. “Mother and Father deserve a son, at least.”
Fiona giggled, for she and Bridget had seven younger sisters. “If it is a son, he will know everything about women. He won’t be able to help it.”
Bridget sighed dreamily. “I saw the most wonderful thing in the world today. Miss Abigail broke the heel of her boot, and the stable boy carried her all the way to the house and up the staircase to her room. Then he smiled at me when he left the room. Isn’t he the most handsome man you have ever seen?”
Fiona sighed as well. “I do believe he is. I hope his engagement with Abigail still stands. You are not still worried, are you?”
“No, I am certain that he loves her now. But Fiona, there is something peculiar happening in the house. I do not know what it is, but it seems to involve Mrs. Price.”
“I am inclined to agree. Everyone seems to be acting strange. I do hope whatever it is may be resolved quickly so that things may return to normal.”
The next morning, Mary had changed into her riding clothes and was leaving her bedroom. Fiona met her on the upstairs landing.
“Did I just hear the telephone ring?” asked Mary hopefully.
“You did, Miss Mary. It is Mr. Morgan from the trustee’s office. He wishes to speak with you.”
“Father’s trustee?” Mary asked in surprise. “I have not seen him in months. I wonder what he could be calling about.”
Clara had also heard the telephone ring, and spoke briefly with Mr. Morgan just before Mary arrived to the library. Clara was too nervous to speak to Mary just then, so she quietly hurried away to the drawing room to find Mrs. Price. “Mother, I must speak with you. I would like you to accompany me to town today. There is something that I think you must witness. I hope you understand that I am only trying to help.”
“Sounds mysterious,” replied Mrs. Price. “I was wondering when you would invite me to ride in your new motor car.”
Clara smiled. “You will love it, Mother. It is lightning fast!”
Mary had just hung up the telephone with Mr. Morgan when Abigail walked into the library. “Mary, would it be alright for me to order the car today? I do need to see the cobbler without delay.”
Mary looked bewildered. “I have just spoken to father’s trustee. He has instructed that I should come to his office, urgently. But Abigail, do you think he could have found out? I am suddenly worried.”
“I do not see how it is possible. Mrs. Price has proven that she can hold a secret indefinitely,” Abigail remarked.
“I will order the car now and change out of my riding clothes. You can do anything you need in town while I meet with Mr. Morgan.”
“Thank you, Mary. I do hope everything will be alright.”
Phillip drove Mary and Abigail to Yorktown. Mary went into the trustee’s office and Abigail stayed in the car while she looked into her purse. She retrieved the broken heel and held it in her hand.
“What do you have there?” Phillip asked curiously.
Abigail giggled. “It is the heel to my boot. It came off yesterday and I must have it repaired.”
“I see. I will assist you to the cobbler’s shop,” offered Phillip as he helped Abigail out of the car.
Mary informed the secretary at the trustee’s office of her arrival. Mary then turned to sit in the small lobby when she observed that Clara and Mrs. Price were waiting there.
Before Mary had a chance to react, the secretary announced to the ladies, “Mr. Morgan will see you now.”
“Mary, I know you must be surprised to see me here,” Clara said to her quietly as they walked down the hallway. “Just know that whatever happens today, I promise to take care of you, as you have taken care of me.”
Mr. Morgan was solemn at his desk while Mrs. Price, Clara, and Mary were seated in chairs across from him. “Miss Davenport,” he said, looking at Mary. “I have asked you to come today because of information which has recently come to my attention. I received affidavits from Mrs. Davenport about the circumstances of your birth. Unfortunately, since a formal adoption was never conducted, your inheritanc
e was unlawful. I have been forced to reopen Mr. Davenport’s estate.”
The color drained from Mary’s face. She sat speechless as she tried to understand the words she had been told. Clara looked sorrowfully at Mary, and was beginning to feel sick in her stomach. She soon regretted that she had ever stepped foot into Mr. Morgan’s office with those papers.
Mr. Morgan turned to Clara. “On the subject of the claim you presented for yourself just yesterday, Miss Davenport, I am unable to be of service. The state law does not recognize illegitimate children as legal heirs. You have stated that your mother and father were never married. The circumstances of your birth invalidates your claim.”
Mrs. Price looked at her daughter in horror. “What have you done, Child?” she asked. “Mr. Morgan, what does this mean? Who is to inherit the estate if not Mr. Davenport’s own children?”
Mr. Morgan sighed heavily. “I am afraid that the estate is now declared property of the state of Pennsylvania. It will be sold at auction.”
Just then, a tall woman in a long black dress walked in, ignoring the objections of Mr. Morgan’s secretary. “Please wait your turn, Mrs. Davenport. Mr. Morgan is with a client,” the secretary pleaded.
Mrs. Davenport continued walking right up to the desk. “I will be quick, Mr. Morgan,” she said briskly. “When will the estate be auctioned?” Mary’s heart sank into her stomach. She had not seen Mrs. Davenport in several weeks, and the sight of her made Mary feel ill.
“Thirty days from today, Mrs. Davenport,” he answered her.
“I will be there,” she stated. She turned to look directly at Clara. “Thank you for your help,” Mrs. Davenport said with a smirk, then turned on her heel and walked out of the office. The three shocked ladies remained in their seats.
“I am sorry that this was not the news that any of you wished to hear,” apologized Mr. Morgan. “James Davenport was a good man. I have looked at the law from every angle I could imagine to spare you this result, but I am restricted by the language of the Will which only allows for legitimate children of natural birth. Sadly, there is nothing further I can do. You may keep your personal wardrobe and jewelry. However, furniture, livestock, bank accounts, and automobiles are assets of the estate and must remain for auction.”
“Our horses!” Mary gasped.
“The horses must stay,” Mr. Morgan confirmed, nodding sadly at Mary. “I suggest that you speak with the servants so they may have ample time to find new employment. If you have relatives you may live with, now is the time to make arrangements.”
Abigail walked away from the cobbler shop wearing her newly repaired boots. She was just about to walk back to the car when she heard a familiar sound that made her heart beat with joy.
“Poundies!” called a boy with a thick Irish accent. “Five cents. Would ya like a portion, Sir?” The boy sat with a basket under the awning of a shop and called to the passersby.
“Get outta here, Irish!” the man called back angrily as he kicked his boot into the dirt near the boy. Abigail hurried over as the man walked away.
“Are you alright, Dear?” she asked the boy.
He hung his head. “I am alright, Miss.”
“Poundies are my favorite,” she said kindly. “I would like to buy some.”
The boy looked up at her. “Ya would, Miss? It is my last portion. Mummy has been sick and cannot work. I have sold poundies so we can buy bread.”
Abigail’s heart went out to the boy who sat there dressed in rags. He was not wearing shoes and Abigail was sure that he did not have any. She reached into her purse and found two dollar coins. “Give these to your mother, Dear,” she said, extending the coins to him.
The boy’s face lit up. “Thank ya, Miss!” He then gave Abigail the potatoes wrapped in tin foil and gripped the coins tightly in his hand before running down the street. Abigail giggled in delight. She gazed sentimentally at the whipped potatoes while warm childhood memories filled her heart.
Phillip was waiting near the car when Abigail returned. “Is Mary still with the trustee?” Abigail asked in surprise.
“She has not come out yet,” Phillip answered. Abigail stood with him under the awning of a shop to be shielded from the sun.
“I do hope everything is alright,” said Abigail in concern. “How are Gabriella and Donnie? And your dear sister?”
Phillip smiled. “The children are well. They have taken a liking to Serena. I do not think they even notice when I am gone, now,” he teased.
“I am glad to hear they are doing well. I have been sorry to not visit more often.”
“You are welcome anytime you can,” Phillip replied sincerely. “Serena has expressed that she would like to see you again.”
Abigail giggled. “We barely exchanged any words at all. I am surprised that Serena remembers who I am.”
Phillip looked sheepish. “I suppose it is because I speak about you so often.”
“You do?” Abigail questioned.
“I—I worry there might have been a misunderstanding before—when I asked you for your hand,” he stammered. “You answered that you thought I might only be asking for the little ones. But it was more than that. I wanted to marry you then because you are the kindest woman I’ve met. I still want to marry you now,” he confessed quietly.
Abigail stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. “Phillip, I am going to marry Ethan,” she replied frantically.
Phillip was surprised. “Oh! I apologize, Miss Abigail. I did not know!”
“Clara did not tell you?”
“She never said. Forgive me, please. If I had known, I never would have—” Phillip was interrupted by the sight of Mary approaching them from the trustee’s office. She looked pale and distressed.
“Mary, what has happened?” asked Abigail.
“We have lost everything,” Mary whispered. “The estate will be auctioned and we must find a new home. I cannot face the servants now, Abigail. Please—when we get home—tell them for me.”
Clara and Mrs. Price rode home in silence. Clara had never been so ashamed in her life. She felt sick knowing that she had a hand in ruining the lives of everyone she loved and cared for. Clara wondered if she should confront Mrs. Davenport for tricking her about the Will.
Abigail solemnly addressed the staff who had gathered in the Hall of Davenport House. “Something terrible has happened today that will affect all of us most wretchedly. Mary no longer owns the estate and the house and property will be sold at auction. We are given thirty days to make other living and working arrangements. I am very sorry to everyone that this has happened.”
The maids looked at each other helplessly, but no one said a word. Bridget began to cry. Mary, Clara, and Mrs. Price hung their heads in sorrow. The front door swung open just then and Mrs. Davenport made a grandiose entrance, walking tall and proud. She clapped her hands together loudly to command everyone’s attention. “What a gloomy moment I must have walked in on. Do not despair, for I intend to buy the house at auction. Most of you will still have your jobs,” she proclaimed to the staff, then turned to look directly at Mrs. Price. “Others of you will not be so fortunate.”
“This is all your doing!” cried Clara angrily. “You said the estate would belong to me. I want my money returned immediately!”
Mrs. Davenport threw back her head and laughed. “You stupid girl. You are not even a person in the eyes of the law. We had a deal, and I have held up my end by providing the documents. Do not worry, Clara. I do not intend to leave you on the streets with your mother. I always thought you performed splendidly as a maid to Mary. You can be maid to me if you wish to stay in the house. Fiona, come take my hat and gloves, and send someone to collect my things. I am moving back into my old room.”
Mary and Abigail sat quietly in Mary’s room staring blankly in front of them. “I suppose I never deserved this life,” said Mary, feeling defeated. “I should have been a servant all along.”
“I am terribly sorry, Mary. What will you do?�
� asked Abigail.
Mary sighed. “I plan to be at dinner tonight. I am curious what Mother has to say about why she gave those documents to the trustee. I am confused about how Clara was involved with her. Did Mother and Clara plan to take the inheritance from me? I do not understand how it happened. Abigail, you are the only one in the house who I can trust now.”
Mrs. Price packed her traveling case while Clara whimpered behind her. “Please speak to me, Mother,” she begged. “I was only trying to help the estate. Mrs. Davenport tricked me.”
Her mother sighed. “I cannot stay here another moment. I will go to a boarding house until I find new employment. I wish that you would come with me, Clara. But I know you do not like being told what to do.”
“I know I often spoke of wanting to get away, but this house is all that I know. For the first time, I am frightened to leave it,” admitted Clara.
“It is not so terrible in the outside world. If you have survived Davenport House until now, you should have no trouble adjusting to a new house,” Mrs. Price assured her. “You are welcome to come with me or stay here, but remember that the house does not belong to Margaret until she buys it. For now, it belongs to the state. Do not let Margaret bully you. Remember, she is only a Davenport by marriage, but you are a Davenport by blood.”
In the city of Yorktown, William was preparing the clinic to be closed for the day, relieved that there were no other cases of typhoid that week. He was about to retire to his apartment upstairs when there was a knock at the door of the clinic. William answered the door to find a man in an expensive suit and polished shoes. The man looked William up and down. “Are you Dr. Hamilton?” he asked, wrinkling his nose in annoyance.
“I am. How may I be of service?” replied William.
“You may stop fraternizing with my fiance,” the man replied sternly.
