by Marie Silk
Louisa looked down. “I suppose I prefer it this way,” she said quietly. “I do not look the same as I once did.”
John tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “I still want to see you. Please…it has been so long. I know that I must look different too.”
Louisa reluctantly lifted the veil over the back of her hair. Her eyes were full of sorrow as she looked back at John. The fair, delicate skin of her face revealed the scars of a life lived under fear and mistreatment. John gazed at her in amazement, looking beyond the pain, past the scars, and seeing only a young face that radiated kindness and love. Louisa reached up to return the veil over her face.
“Wait,” John said quickly. “Forgive me for staring—it has been years. You are a good soul, Louisa. You need not hide your face from me. You may not know it, but you are beautiful.”
“I do not deserve your attention,” Louisa replied, shaking her head. “I am not as good as you might think I am.”
“Of course you are,” he contradicted.
“I wrote to Mr. Davenport when my father became ill. We thought that it was Father’s time to die. But then…he recovered. He became worse than he ever was before. Just days ago, he had me by my wrists when I stood at the top of the staircase,” Louisa recounted, carefully running her hand along her arm as she spoke. John could see the marks when her sleeve pulled back. “I thought that he would push me. His eyes said that he would. So I—I pushed him,” she said, beginning to weep. “I am a murderer.”
John pulled his chair alongside hers and carefully put his arm around her. “You are no murderer, Louisa. You protected yourself and there is no crime in that. I wished that I could have ended him all these years because of how he hurt my wife. If that makes me a murderer in my heart, then so be it. A man who hurts a woman is no man at all.” Louisa continued to cry. John was relieved to feel her relax into his arm, and he soon held her carefully while the two of them wept together. The work that John had to do for the day could wait. Nothing was more important than this moment, when two anguished souls could feel the releasing of pain and healing of their hearts.
“I am sorry that I pulled away before, when you were only motioning for me to come into the house,” Louisa apologized, sniffling into his shoulder. “I know that you would never hurt me.”
“No, I would never hurt you. If you want me to let go of you now, you can tell me. It won’t bother my feelings one bit if you say so,” John told her quietly.
“It is the first time in my life that I have felt safe. Please, do not let me go.”
Abigail and Mary returned from their ride. Ethan told them of his father’s visitor, who was still upstairs.
“Oh my, I wonder why she has come today,” Mary thought aloud. “I will go inside to change. I should be presentable if I am to meet my mother’s sister for the first time. Ethan, please invite them to come to the drawing room of the house when they have finished speaking.” Ethan nodded in response, and Mary and Abigail returned to the house.
Louisa and John waited in the drawing room for Mary to come down. “I am nervous,” Louisa whispered.
John gently squeezed her hand. “She is kind…like her mother,” he said to Louisa. “Miss Mary will be glad to see you.”
When Mary entered the room, she was wearing an elegant blue afternoon dress. It was the first time that she wore colors since Mr. Davenport had passed away. “You must be my Aunt Louisa,” she greeted cheerfully.
Louisa gasped when she first saw Mary. “John,” Louisa whispered. “She looks just like her!”
Mary smiled as she approached Louisa and kissed her on the cheek. “You look like my mother as well. I am glad you have come today. Please allow me to introduce my friend Abigail. She is to be married to my brother Ethan on Saturday.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Abigail,” Louisa greeted. She then explained her correspondence with Mr. Davenport. “Mary, he wrote to me that he would not feel right adopting you when your true father still lived. I promised Mr. Davenport that you would be heiress to my estate, and it was only then that he thought to exclude you from his Will. He cared for you dearly and planned to explain to you when the time was right. I am sorry that the time never came.”
Mary felt a sense of relief, now that her father’s reasons were explained so clearly. “Thank you for telling me these things,” she said to Louisa.
“I would like very much for all of you to accompany me back to the manor house,” Louisa told everyone in the room. “I intend to transfer it to Mary and Ethan as soon as possible.”
Mary could not believe her good fortune. “How generous you are, Aunt Louisa. But, you do not wish to have the house for yourself?”
Louisa shook her head. “I no longer want to live there. I have thought about moving West and starting a new life for myself. The manor house is lovely though, and I wish it to go to family.”
Ethan smiled at Abigail. Perhaps he would have a proper house to provide her with after all. “I would like to see it right away,” Ethan stated. Abigail smiled back at him. Plans were made to leave with Louisa to view the manor house that very day.
As everyone prepared to leave in Louisa’s motor car, Abigail spoke to Ethan privately. “I am sorry, but I do not think I can go with you today,” she said. “I have started to feel ill and I am worried that riding in the car will make it worse.”
Ethan looked at her in concern. “Are you alright? I will stay with you if you are unwell.”
“Please, go without me,” she insisted. “I do not wish to spoil your fun. This will be an important trip for your family to be together. I will lie down and rest.”
“Are you certain?” he asked again.
Abigail nodded. “Perhaps it is just too much excitement for one week. Bridget is a dear girl and is very attentive to me. With her to assist me, I will likely be well in the morning.”
Ethan leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the cheek and could feel how warm her face was against his. He struggled with whether he should stay or go. He knew that the others were waiting for him in front of the house. He looked into her eyes apologetically. “Goodbye, Abigail. I will see you tomorrow.”
Ethan left through the front door and explained to the others that he had one further matter to attend to before he could go. He ran to the Valentis’ farmhouse and knocked on the door. Phillip answered, amazed to see Ethan.
“Ethan, good afternoon,” greeted Phillip. “How are things at the house?”
“Pa and I are leaving for the day with Mary. It doesn’t feel right to leave Abigail and the maids alone without a capable man around. Would you keep an eye on the house when we are gone? In case they need anything.”
Phillip nodded. “Of course I’ll look after them,” he answered. “Safe travels, Ethan.”
“Thank you,” Ethan replied as he shook hands with Phillip. He ran back to the car and was soon on his way to Philadelphia with the others.
Abigail explained to Bridget that she would not be eating dinner that night. She did not know where these sudden aches and feelings of fatigue had come from. She lay upon her bed and was soon asleep.
Fiona answered the door when Phillip Valenti came to call. “Good evening, Miss,” he greeted. “I have come to say that if you ladies need anything, I am just a walk to the south.”
Fiona could feel herself blushing when Phillip referred to her as a lady. “Thank you, Mr. Valenti,” she responded. Phillip walked back to his farmhouse and Fiona went downstairs to her bedroom to put her feet up. It was not often that she had a day off at Davenport House, and she was determined to get some rest now that the family was away.
Louisa Montgomery arrived at the manor house with John, Mary, and Ethan. Mary was impressed to find that the manor house was even grander than Davenport House. She wondered how a single woman could manage such a monstrosity. After they climbed out of the car, Ethan headed in the direction of the stable. Louisa looked confused. “Doesn’t he wish to see the house?” she asked th
e others.
Mary and John Smith laughed. “He might eventually,” answered Mary. “He prefers a simpler way of life.”
Louisa smiled. “There is a delightful cottage on the estate that he may enjoy with his new bride. It does not require as much maintenance as the big house.”
John took a deep breath before he walked into the gardens alone. He remembered each row of hedges and flowering tree. The memories came rushing back to him as he thought of Maryanne crying on this bench where she often went to escape her father. John could feel tears forming in his eyes while he recalled his life on this property all those years ago. He was not sure that he could be on the estate without experiencing the pain he felt now.
Ethan returned from the stable with a smile on his face. “It will do nicely, Aunt. Thank you,” he said.
“Let us go into the house now,” Louisa said to the others. “There are fifty rooms and much else to see.”
“Aunt Louisa,” said Mary. “May we see my mother’s bedroom first?”
“Yes, of course,” Louisa replied. “It has not changed since—the day she left.” They walked into the imposing entryway of the house. Mary admired the marble finishes and lavish chandeliers. Louisa was about to lead them up the grand wooden staircase, but she paused to clutch the rail and began to shake in fear. “It is just up here,” she told the others, attempting to keep her composure. John came alongside Louisa and steadied her so that she could walk up the stairs.
“It’s alright,” he whispered. “Lean on me if you need.”
When Mary entered her mother’s bedroom, she was overcome with emotion. Fine lace curtains hung from the windows. Tapestries lined the gold-trimmed walls, and the table was set with a freshly polished silver tea set. It was clear that the room had been cared for even while no one lived in it. Mary tried to hold back her tears, but it was no use when she felt Ethan standing next to her, holding her hand in his. The room had a feeling of peace along with sadness. Mary instantly knew that if she could choose any room in the house to be hers, this would be the one.
Chapter 11
Bridget went to attend to Abigail the next morning, but found her feverish and unresponsive. Bridget then searched for her sister in the servants’ quarters. “Fiona, Miss Abigail will not wake! I think she has a fever,” Bridget explained.
“Oh dear,” replied Fiona. “Let us see to it that Miss Abigail has fresh tea in her room throughout the day.”
Bridget nodded. “I will stay with her.” She sat in a chair in Abigail’s room, waiting for her to wake. Hours had passed and Abigail appeared to be in a distressed sleep, still unable to wake. Bridget and Fiona became increasingly concerned when Abigail had not improved by the evening. “Should we call the doctor?” Bridget asked.
“I do not know,” Fiona answered worriedly. “I have only answered the telephone before, but I am unsure how to call out.”
“Is there anyone in the house who would know?” Bridget asked.
“I am afraid not. I will go to the neighbor’s house. Mr. Valenti said he would help us if we needed,” answered Fiona. She hurried to the Valentis’ farmhouse.
“Fiona, what is it?” Phillip asked in concern when he saw her approach.
“It is Miss Abigail, Sir,” Fiona replied breathlessly. “She is unwell and we do not know how to call the doctor. Can you use a telephone?”
Phillip sighed. “I’m sorry, Fiona. I am not familiar with how it works. How bad is she?”
“She has been asleep since yesterday afternoon and she has a terrible fever,” Fiona answered.
“I will go to town for the doctor,” Phillip promised. He ran to the car and sped away down the drive. Fiona returned to the house to tell Bridget.
Clara and Mrs. Price returned to the house around dinner time. Fiona told them of Abigail’s condition and that Phillip had gone for the doctor. “Oh, poor Abigail,” Clara said worriedly. She went to Abigail’s room where Bridget had been waiting all day.
Clara sat on the bed. “Abigail, Dear,” she said, placing her hand to Abigail’s forehead. “She is burning up. Let us remove the quilt to see if it helps.” Bridget helped her to lift the quilt and Abigail still would not respond.
“Bridget, you look tired. I will stay with her now. You should go rest,” Clara suggested kindly.
“Thank you, Miss Clara. I hope Miss Abigail is soon recovered,” Bridget replied. She left the room to return to the servants’ quarters. Stuart was there talking to Fiona and leaning over her. It did not look like Fiona wanted to speak with him. “Fiona, will you assist me?” Bridget called loudly.
“Of course,” Fiona answered, relieved to have a reason to get away from Stuart. “What is it?” she asked when she and Bridget were alone.
“I was worried for you when I saw Stuart standing so close,” Bridget replied.
Fiona grimaced in disgust. “He keeps trying to touch my hair. I despise it when he is near, but I do not know if it is my place to tell Miss Clara. It is proper for me to do so?”
“I do not know,” Bridget answered. “What if we ask Mrs. Price to return to the servants’ quarters?”
Fiona sighed. “I hate to ask, now that she has been living upstairs. She cannot want to leave now.”
“I am worried for Miss Abigail,” Bridget said, tears forming in her eyes.
“I am worried too, Bridget,” Fiona told her, putting her arms around her sister. “Will you sleep in my bed with me tonight? That way, neither of us has to be alone.”
“I will get my things,” answered Bridget. She settled into Fiona’s new room while Fiona checked several times to be sure that the bedroom door was locked. Fiona climbed into the bed, but could not shake the uneasy feeling that filled the pit of her stomach. She was reaching her hand to turn off the lamp near the bed when the hair on her neck suddenly stood on end, and she heard the sound of the doorknob turning behind her. Bridget gasped and looked at her sister, then at the doorknob which began rattling back and forth.
“It is Stuart! I know it!” Fiona cried in a whisper. She jumped from the bed and propped the back of a chair securely under the doorknob. The door began to shake hard and Fiona backed up to the bed in fear.
“What will we do?” whispered Bridget, her eyes wide with fright.
“I do not know!” cried Fiona. The sisters sat on the bed, holding each other tightly.
Clara was with Mrs. Price in Abigail’s room. “I am worried, Mother,” Clara said. “What if she doesn’t wake up?”
“I don’t know, Child. Phillip has gone for the doctor and should return at any moment. Stay here and keep watch. I have just had the most terrible feeling. I do not know why, but I think that I should check on the maids. I will bring more tea when I return,” Mrs. Price said, then hurried out of the room.
Bridget and Fiona clung to each other on the bed, watching the door frame bend and creak from the force behind it. The window of the room was too small for the girls to climb out of, although they kept glancing toward the window, hoping it had somehow grown bigger for them to escape. It was not long before the door frame snapped, and Stuart could be seen struggling to push the door against the leaning chair. He was sweaty and breathing hard while he stared at the girls, his black eyes full of evil intent. “Open this door now!” he ordered through his teeth.
Bridget screamed from the bed. Fiona hurried to the desk in the room. The sound of the door shaking and cracking nearly made her faint. She took a letter opener from the desk drawer and gripped it tightly in her hand. She turned to face the shaking door as the chair was about to break in two. Fiona charged Stuart with the blade of the letter opener as the chair fell over and slid across the floor. Stuart seemed to shrink back when he observed the fierceness in her eyes. Fiona continued to approach him while he backed away. Stuart began to retreat into the hallway just as a strong fist appeared from the side and forcefully met with Stuart’s jaw. The blow knocked Stuart off his feet and he fell on his back, unconscious in the hallway. Fiona stared in amazement
as Phillip Valenti appeared in the doorway.
“Are you ladies alright?” he asked quickly. The sisters nodded gratefully in response. “This man won’t be bothering you anymore,” Phillip assured them. He roughly lifted Stuart’s limp body by the trouser waistband and carried him out the door of the servants’ quarters. Mrs. Price arrived just in time to witness Phillip knocking Stuart off his feet and removing him from the hallway. Mrs. Price then found Bridget and Fiona on the bed and inquired after their well being. Fiona explained to her what had happened. When Phillip returned to the servants’ quarters, he observed that Mrs. Price was waiting for him there. “I am sorry you had to see that, Ma’am,” he apologized to her.
Mrs. Price managed a smile. “No need to apologize, Mr. Valenti. I am afraid that I misjudged you. The house is grateful to you for your service,” she replied humbly.
“I am sorry to report that I could not bring Dr. Hamilton back with me. He is busy at the clinic and waits for doctors to arrive from Philadelphia to assist in the outbreak. Dr. Hamilton said that he will come as soon as he is able. He was distressed to hear about Miss Abigail,” Phillip explained.
“We must make do until he arrives,” answered Mrs. Price.
Mary, Ethan, and John arrived at Davenport House late that night with Louisa. They had all expected to return earlier in the day, but soon discovered that none of them wanted to part from each other at the manor house. It was the first time that Mary felt like a true family with her father and brother, and now with an aunt she adored. Mary quickly grew attached to Louisa and hardly paid attention to the manor house anymore, instead savoring each moment that she heard new things about what her mother was like. Not wanting their short time together to be over just yet, Mary invited her aunt to return with them to Davenport House for one more day.
As soon as they walked into the house, Mary could tell that something was wrong. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she watched Clara descend the grand staircase to meet them. Clara’s expression was grim and she quickly informed them of Abigail’s fever, which seemed to grow worse by the minute. Ethan was horrified to hear the news, feeling overcome with guilt that he had left her there and taken so long to return.
