by Marie Silk
They drove for hours to reach Pittsburgh. When Phillip parked the car at their destination, Clara stared curiously at the house that matched the address from Lawrence’s mail. “I’ll just be a moment,” she told Phillip as he helped her out of the car. Clara approached the house nervously, her heart sinking every step of the way, knowing that something was wrong. When she knocked on the door, a middle aged man answered. “Um—good afternoon,” Clara stammered. “I wonder if I might visit with Mrs. Collins—if she is well enough to receive me.”
The man seemed irritated when he answered her. “There ain’t no Mrs. Collins living here. If you want to see Lawrence Collins, you just missed him.”
“Lawrence was just here?” Clara asked incredulously. “But, his mother does not live here in the house with him?”
The man shrugged. “Look, lady, this is my house, but Lawrence rents one of the rooms from me. I think his ma died a long time ago.”
Clara felt her knees going weak. Her head spun with confusion. Phillip became concerned as he watched from the car, and he reached Clara just in time for her to hold onto him for balance. “Take me home, quickly,” she whispered.
Phillip helped her to the car. “You don’t look well. Is there anything you need?”
Clara shook her head in bewilderment. “I’ve had a terrible feeling that Lawrence was hiding something from me…now I’m too afraid to find out what it is. I just want to go home.” Phillip started the car and they began the long drive back to Davenport House.
In the servant’s quarters, Fiona was instructing the maids on the proper order to serve the wine for the party. The masquerade preparations were nearly complete, and Fiona left the house to breathe in the fresh air. Sam observed that she was sitting on the boulder near the servants’ entrance and he went to talk to her.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked cheerfully. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Fiona smiled wearily. “It’s been a long while since I had a break. What do you want to show me?”
“I have to get it from my room,” he replied. Fiona followed him to the stable and waited outside while Sam went to the apartment above. He soon returned with a document. “I’ve got the deed to my land now. I can start building anytime!” He held it out to her proudly.
Fiona gasped in delight. “How wonderful! You have worked hard for it—” she stopped suddenly. “Oh—Sam, this is not the deed. Perhaps you brought back the wrong document.” She held it for him to take back.
Sam furrowed his brow. “That’s supposed to be the deed. Miss Clara said I was done working and paying for it.”
Fiona skimmed it over. “Miss Clara gave this to you?”
“It was Mr. Collins who gave it to me. He said I should sign it.”
Fiona had a sinking feeling. “Are you certain Miss Clara said you completed the payments?”
“Of course I’m sure,” he said, getting flustered. “Fiona, what does it say? You’ve got me worried now.”
“It’s a contract,” she answered slowly as she continued to read. “But it says you’ve agreed to work another year in payment for the land.”
Sam was aghast at first, then he clenched his fists in anger. “It can’t be! Miss Clara said that I was done! Why would she give me this contract after all that?”
“The contract is not written in Miss Clara’s hand. I’m afraid there was a misunderstanding when Mr. Collins gave this to you. Either that, or…he has tricked you.”
“Why would he do that?”
Fiona looked around her, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “I shouldn’t be saying this, but Mr. Collins is not a good man. If you only knew what he was like in the house...I only feel safe when he is away.”
His face turned red with anger. “Has he bothered you?”
“Not exactly,” she sighed. “But he proposed something shameful to Bridget.”
“Your sister?” Sam asked incredulously.
Fiona nodded. “As I said, he is not a good man.” She held the contract out to Sam. “This is just the sort of trick I think he would do. Miss Clara’s name is not on the contract—she may not know that he made you sign this.”
“Then I’ll talk to her,” he said.
“She is not home now…neither is Mr. Collins. But Sam, won’t you wait until after the masked ball? I worry about what problems it might cause while Miss Clara is organizing the event.”
Sam was reluctant. “It seems like the sort of thing that should be cleared up right now. I can’t let her think I agreed to this.”
“I know that,” Fiona said with pleading eyes. “But everyone has been on edge lately at the house. I think they will begin to relax once the ball is over.”
“Fine, I’ll wait,” he acquiesced. “But I don’t like this Mr. Collins fellow one bit. He’s going to pay for what he’s done, one way or another.”
***
Temporary Red Cross Hospital at Smith Manor House, Philadelphia
“Nurse Miller, will you go outside and see what that young man wants?” the director asked, pointing out the window to the man with a messenger bag who was waiting outside.
“Right away,” answered Bridget. She hurried outside to meet the young man, and noticed that he was missing an arm where his coat sleeve hung loosely. “Do you need help getting inside the hospital, Sir?”
“Oh, hello,” he said distractedly, looking at the house as he spoke. “No, I don’t need to get inside. I didn’t realize this house would be a hospital now.”
“It is,” she replied. “Do you have a delivery for the family who used to live here?”
“You know them?” he asked.
“I used to work here as a maid for the family. Now I am here as a nurse with the Red Cross.”
“I see,” he said, squinting his eyes curiously. “Is your name Bridget, by any chance?”
Bridget laughed nervously. “How do you know my name?”
The man sighed like he was exasperated all of a sudden. “I don’t suppose you remember a man called Lawrence Collins? He used to have this route.”
Bridget felt her stomach twisting into knots at the mention of his name. She swallowed hard before answering in a low voice. “I remember him.”
“Believe me, you’re better off to be rid of that fellow,” the man said, shaking his head.
“What do you mean?” she demanded, feeling uncomfortable that this stranger seemed to know so much about her.
“I used to work with him at the post office. Lawrence would come in to work and brag about seducing you. He said he was only getting information from you so he could trick the rich lady you worked for. Lawrence thought he could get the lady’s house and money that way.”
Bridget felt anger rising through her. “What a rude thing for you to say! What’s the point of telling me this now?”
“Sorry, Miss. I thought you’d feel better if you knew what a scoundrel he was. He dodged the draft, you know. He was a real coward…I hope the rich lady is alright and didn’t fall for his tricks.”
“You’re too late. They were married over a year ago,” she said coolly, crossing her arms over her chest.
“It’s a shame,” the man replied, bowing his head sorrowfully. “That poor lady must have truly been widowed from the War. I suppose it happened a lot.”
“I don’t understand what you mean. Clara was never married before she met Lawrence.”
“Who?”
Bridget sighed impatiently, beginning to believe this young man did not know as much as he thought he did. “Clara Davenport. Lawrence’s wife. Now she is Clara Collins, obviously.”
The man looked at her skeptically. “That’s not what Lawrence called her. Are you sure that he married a lady named Clara?”
Bridget rolled her eyes, becoming more angry every moment she had to talk about Lawrence. “Of course I’m sure! I know everything about Clara, and I know everything about the family and Davenport House! Now if you don’t have anything important to say, please go away and
don’t come back.” She turned her face away from him.
The man sighed. “I’m sorry I bothered you, Miss. I never heard of this Clara Davenport lady or her house before now. Lawrence talked about a scheme he had for a different lady. It really was despicable…I’m glad he never went through with it. He bragged that he knew someone at the war office who would send a false death note about the lady’s husband. Lawrence said he could trick her and take her money. I wanted to warn the lady, but I got called to fight and didn’t get back ‘til now. I suppose the lady must have been your Mistress. Lawrence said her name was Abigail. Abigail Smith.”
Chapter 5
The following afternoon, Phillip walked out to the orchard behind the farmhouse to find Serena. “Something came in the post for you.”
“Where is it?” she cried.
“I left it on the mantle.”
Phillip followed Serena inside the house where she took the envelope from the mantle and tore it open.
Miss Valenti,
Your daughter is alive and well. I can’t get her from where she is yet. I’ll write again when I find a way.
Giovanni
Serena felt her heart racing in her chest. “I don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaking. “Giovanni writes that he found Angelina, but that he can’t get to her. What do you think it means?” She handed Phillip the letter.
Phillip looked it over and frowned. “He probably wants more money.”
“If he wanted more money, why didn’t he just say so in the letter?” Serena lowered herself into a chair at the kitchen table. “At least he found her…and she is well.”
Phillip looked at her skeptically. “What was all that business about you not working for Abigail anymore? How will you repay your debt to her?”
Serena looked down at the table. “I’ll find a way to pay her…but it can’t involve me returning to the house.”
“What happened? Why don’t you want to go back?”
Serena shook her head. “You’d be furious if I told you.”
Phillip was bewildered. “Why would I be furious? I’m only concerned that Abigail is rightly paid. It’s ungrateful of you to back out of the arrangement you made with her, after all she’s done for you.”
“I’m not ungrateful, brother. Abigail has done more for me than only the hundred dollars could repay. You must believe me that I’m burdened with a terrible guilt that I won’t help her as I promised.”
“You’ll at least explain to her, I hope…since you will not explain it to me,” Phillip told her.
Serena looked up at him. “Don’t you see? I can’t go back into that house! Not even to explain. I was forbidden!”
Phillip was getting impatient. “By who, Clara? Is she shunning you because of Angelina?”
“She doesn’t know,” Serena answered, returning her gaze to the table. “At least, I don’t think she knows. But if I tell you the true reason, you must promise not to interfere in any way.”
“What does any of this have to do with me? Just tell me, Serena. I don’t even go into that house anymore.”
Serena swallowed the lump in her throat. “I can’t go back because…Clara’s new husband…he is Angelina’s father.”
Serena watched her brother’s face turn red with anger and he balled his fists at his side. “I’m going to kill him,” he growled.
“Now you see why I didn’t want to tell you!”
Phillip breathed angrily through his nostrils. “I can’t believe that the coward who left you is the man who lives next door! How could you not tell me?”
“I never knew until that night I went to the house and Clara introduced us. When I saw it was Lawrence, I nearly fainted! He stopped me after I left the house. He said that he knows where Angelina is, and if I go to the house again or if Clara finds out anything, he’ll see to it that I never find her!”
“All the more reason for me to hate him,” Phillip seethed. “The girls must be told. They need to know what sort of lowlife is living in their house!”
“Don’t you dare say anything until my daughter is safely back with me,” she said firmly.
He plopped down with a scowl in one of the chairs. “I don’t like this one bit, knowing he’s there…in the house with them. Once your investigator gets Angelina, Lawrence is going to get what he deserves from me.”
At Davenport House, the maids were hurriedly making last minute preparations for the ball. Clara was frantic in the drawing room, asking Fiona again and again to be sure that the party would run perfectly. When they heard someone knocking at the door, Clara’s eyes grew wide. “Who on earth could that be? The party does not start for hours, and I’m a mess!”
Fiona quickly answered the door and returned to the drawing room to inform Clara. “Mr. Blake is here to see you.”
Clara smoothed her hair and dress. “Send him in, Fiona.”
When Clara saw her neighbor, Joe, she felt her heart race in her chest. He was the man who worked on the ranch next to the Davenport Estate, and he was looking as tan as ever. Clara had to suppress the feelings that arose whenever he came near. “Mr. Blake, how good to see you,” she greeted. “You’re coming to the ball tonight, aren’t you?”
Joe chuckled nervously. “Well that’s the thing, Mrs. Collins. I appreciate the invitation, but I um—I don’t have a mask—so I won’t be coming. I’m sorry I forgot to send the card back. I figured I could come tell you in person.”
Clara shook her head dismissively. “Wait a moment, and I will get a mask for you. I purchased extras in case anyone came without.”
“You don’t have to—” Joe began. But Clara had already left the drawing room.
She returned with a black mask that tied around the back. “Here you are, Mr. Blake,” she said, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Now may we expect you tonight?”
Joe smiled timidly as he took the mask, feeling too guilty to refuse. “Sure, I’ll be here.”
Clara sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you tonight then, Mrs. Collins. Good day,” Joe said, then he left for the door.
Clara and Fiona began to discuss the placement of the orchestra in the ballroom. When there was another knock at the front door, Clara turned to Fiona in exasperation. “Who can that be now? I hope Mr. Blake has not changed his mind.”
Fiona went to answer the door and gasped at the sight of her sister on the other side. “Bridget? What are you doing here?”
“I need to speak to Clara…about Lawrence,” Bridget replied. “It’s urgent.”
Fiona’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. She knows about you and Lawrence now.”
Bridget gaped at her. “She does? How did she find out?”
“I was forced to tell her,” Fiona answered painfully. “You really should go. Your timing couldn’t be worse! Miss Clara is hosting a masked ball tonight and she’s frantic that something might go wrong!”
“But I’ve learned something terrible about Lawrence and I must tell someone immediately. He’s not the person any of us thought he was!”
“Who is at the door?” Clara asked, walking toward Fiona and the open door. When she saw Bridget, her countenance fell.
“I’m sorry for coming so unexpectedly, Mrs. Collins, but there is something about Lawrence you must know!” she blurted.
Clara narrowed her eyes at Bridget. “I don’t need you to tell me anything about my husband. If you’ll excuse me, I have a ball to attend to.”
“But Clara, it is important!” Bridget persisted.
Clara felt her eyes filling with hot tears. “I don’t wish to hear another word from you. It’s time for you to leave, and please don’t come back.” Clara left for the stairs.
Fiona stared frightfully at Bridget. “I told you it was a bad time. Miss Clara has been in a sore mood since she got home yesterday. Mr. Collins was supposed to be back by now but has let Miss Clara down without so much as a phone call. It’s probably why she does not want
to hear anything about him.”
Bridget hung her head in shame. “I didn’t come to cause trouble, Fiona. Honest. I only wanted to warn her of the sort of man Lawrence really is.”
Fiona groaned. “I think most of us are catching on. I’m sorry but I really must close the door now. Goodbye, sister.”
Later that evening, before the start of the ball, Abigail was in her bedroom with Ethan and the baby, waiting for Serena to arrive. Abigail looked at the clock again. “She really should have been here by now. I wonder if she forgot.”
Ethan looked up at Abigail from where he held the baby in the rocking chair. “Do we really have to go to this thing?” he asked sorrowfully. “I don’t think I want to see all those people right now.”
Abigail smiled compassionately at him. “If Serena is unable to come, you may be off the hook. I’m going to give her another few minutes before I go over to remind her.”
Down the hallway, Clara sat pouting at her vanity table while Jane attended to her. “Mary was just called to a birth and won’t be coming to the masquerade,” she told Jane as she put on her jewelry. “I only hope nothing else goes wrong tonight.”
It was as if Jane had read her mind. “Will Mr. Collins be arriving soon?”
Clara shrugged in irritation, feeling grateful for the mask that now hid her scowl. “Who knows if he will or not? I’m beginning to hope that he doesn’t. And if Lawrence does come tonight, he might wish that he hadn’t.” Clara rose suddenly and checked her reflection before she walked away, leaving Jane bewildered in the room.
Still in her bedroom down the hallway, Abigail looked at the clock again. “Ethan, I’m just going next door to talk to Serena. I’ll only be a few minutes. Will you be alright here with the baby?”
Ethan smiled as he continued to rock in the chair with the baby lying on his chest. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”
Abigail pulled on her coat and gloves before venturing outside into the cold night air. Serena could see her approaching from the window of the farmhouse. “Abigail is coming to the house,” she cried. “Oh dear, I don’t know what to tell her!”
