House of Silence

by Sarah Barthel

  The desperation in her voice rekindled my disappointment. Did she actually not know what her inaction had cost me? Perhaps she had intended on coming to my rescue, but she didn’t even send someone in her place!

  “I couldn’t let Robert have that kind of knowledge of me. No man will ever have the ability to threaten me again. And, I was so hurt that you didn’t help me, I didn’t know who to trust. You left me alone with Mr. Gallagher. You promised to protect me and let me down. I didn’t know if I could trust your son.”

  Standing was too much for her, and she sat upon the edge of her bed. “Growing old is a cruel fate. No one had returned my requests so I had planned to come to town and collect you myself, but such a pain came over me, I could scarcely breathe.”

  “Samuel told me.” I sighed. “I guess I should simply be grateful you intended to come, but that afternoon all I could see was the freedom I’d lost and I refused to give anyone more power over me.”

  Her eyes, which had been black with tears moments before, lightened with sympathy. “You saw him, then? I assumed when you came back from your trip early you were safe. That was our goal. This Mr. Gallagher did not harm you, did he?”

  Did Gregory hurt me? That wasn’t exactly accurate. I rubbed my bandaged arm. I was not permanently damaged, but my previous life was gone. As I rose to leave, she grasped my hands and refused to let go.

  “What happened, Isabelle? What did I fail to prevent?” The clarity in her voice made me smile.

  Tears were now upon my cheeks and I paced the room. “He knows that I know about Katerina. I got away, and now he swears to Mother he wants nothing to do with our family.”

  “She still fails to believe you?”

  “Yes and refuses to allow me to leave here.”

  Mrs. Lincoln’s face looked as if she’d found the body of her dead son all over again. “Oh my dear girl, I had no idea.” With strength I did not expect from her, she pulled me back to her side and wrapped her arms around me.

  My mind screamed with warnings of how she was not to be trusted. But, sitting beside her, allowing her to soothe me, love was all I felt and all I wanted to know. I forced my anger to disappear and wrapped my arms around her in return.

  “I am sorry I betrayed you,” I whispered. “I will make this right.”

  “It is forgotten. We will find another way out of here, you and I,” she said. “Abraham will show us the way.”

  I hoped she was right. Mrs. Lincoln placed a brush in my hand. “Would you mind?”

  As I moved the brush rhythmically through her hair, we enjoyed the peace. My mind raced to find another road to safety, but there was no one to corroborate my story. Or was there? Gregory hadn’t exactly confessed in the carriage, but had definitely sounded guilty.

  “I must go into town,” I said.

  “To town? What for?”

  Pulling her long gray hair back, I divided it into sections and braided it. “I must find the carriage driver who drove Gregory and me. He is the only one who can verify my story.”

  Mrs. Lincoln turned to face me.

  “I can secure the carriage tomorrow, but I’ve little idea of how to find the man you are after. Do you know the driver’s name?” I knew she was trying to help me, but her question pointed to the very thing I didn’t know.

  “I’ll do my best to find out,” I said, wishing I were as confident as I sounded.

  * * *

  Knowing how anxious Lucy was about me, I quickly penned a response explaining what had happened and not to worry, that she should enjoy her honeymoon and give Patrick my best. I blotted the ink and put the letter in my pocket. Since I’d be going to town today, I decided to mail it myself. This small bit of independence empowered me.

  I’d just finished pinning up my hair when someone pounded upon my door. I searched for my robe to cover my nightdress, but they didn’t wait for me to answer.

  “Nurse Penny!” I exclaimed, jumping in surprise. She was still in her long white nightgown, and her hair had yet to be combed, for it frizzed around her face like a crown of hornets.

  “Thank goodness you’re up. Sit with Mrs. Lincoln for me. I must find one of the doctors to get medications for her but if I leave I fear she may harm herself.”

  I jumped to my feet. “I’ll stay with her,” I promised. She was running down the hall before I could say anything else.

  The hallway was dark as I crossed it into Mrs. Lincoln’s room. Her curtains were drawn closed, and she was still abed.

  “Mrs. Lincoln?” I said, walking across the room and resting on the edge of her bed. “Mary, my friend, what is the matter?”

  At my words, she turned from the wall and met my eyes. “Oh, Isabelle. It is like a tomahawk is beating upon my head. The spirit is inside my head again, ripping off my scalp and sticking pins into my eyes. Can you stop it?” Her voice was weak, and I could see how each word pained her.

  I glanced around the room until I located her washbasin. I walked over to it and dipped a cloth in the cool water. Then I came back to her side and laid it upon her forehead.

  “With such pain, it is best to lie still and rest. It will go away,” I promised, hoping I didn’t lie.

  Mrs. Lincoln’s chin quivered. “I fear the pain shall never go away.”

  I stroked her bare arm and hummed a waltz. The compress stayed put over her eyes and, after a few moments, her slight moans reduced to uneven breathing. Nurse Penny’s footsteps rushed back down the hallway. She entered the room holding a bottle, followed closely by Samuel. He saw me and paused slightly before approaching Mrs. Lincoln.

  “She is in great pain,” I said, then regretted it, for it wasn’t my place to speak.

  “This will stop it,” Nurse Penny said and unstoppered the bottle.

  “Wait.” Samuel pressed his hand against Mrs. Lincoln’s forehead, felt her pulse, and brushed the hair off her face. Once he straightened, her breath slowed to normal. “Look at her.”

  “She’s sleeping,” I whispered.

  Samuel nodded. “Perhaps all she needed was a cool cloth and darkness. Nurse Penny, please see the compress remains in place today and keep the room dark. Keep her hydrated and avoid giving her any red meat. I will check on her again this afternoon. Let us leave her alone, Isabelle.” He gestured for me to leave with him.

  I was flooded with the feeling of selfish disappointment as I realized what Samuel’s orders meant. Mrs. Lincoln would not be taking me driving after all.

  “Don’t worry. She’ll be all right,” Samuel said, patting my back.

  I shook my head. “We were to go in search of Gregory’s driver today. I suspected he heard all we said to one another. Perhaps Gregory said more once I fell that would implicate him.”

  In the narrow hallway, Samuel’s body was close to mine. Without a corset or any proper clothing I felt exposed, but I didn’t back away.

  “That could be dangerous,” he said. I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. He needn’t stand so close, but neither of us moved for more space.

  “I have to see him. He is the one person who can prove my story to Dr. Patterson.”

  “I, too, would like to see you released. You don’t belong here.”

  “Where do I belong then?” I held my breath waiting for his answer.

  Despite myself, I shifted my feet. The floor creaking made both of us jump, and he dropped my hand. The moment was ruined.

  “I have some free time this afternoon. I was going to catch up on paperwork, but perhaps I could take you for a ride instead? We could search out this driver,” Samuel said, careful to keep a proper distance.

  “Thank you,” I said. “That would be appreciated.”

  “I’ll come find you when it’s time to leave.”

  I nodded.

  He turned to leave, then looked back at me. “I hope you know I don’t always agree with what Dr. Patterson chooses.”

  His words gave me pause. “You are a good friend, Samuel,” I replied, for it felt the on
ly proper thing to say.

  His face betrayed the slightest disappointment. “Yes,” he said. “A good friend.”

  Then he turned on his heel and left.

  CHAPTER 28

  While I waited for Samuel, I placated Dr. Patterson and tried to behave as if nothing had changed by joining that morning’s sewing circle. Helping Mrs. Lincoln had delayed me, so I was the last to arrive. I stepped into the room and was greeted with a cold reception. Not a woman greeted me or even smiled as I entered. Instead, I felt as if I’d walked into a hungry wolves’ den, but couldn’t imagine why. My hopeful demeanor slipped, but I refused to lose it entirely and sat beside Marilla as I had all summer.

  “Good morning.” My words made the room even quieter. When no one replied, I added, “I missed breakfast. Was it tasty?”

  Marilla adjusted her posture so she was facing me, but didn’t look up. The bones in her cheeks looked more pronounced than normal. The pillowcase she worked on sat in her lap; her hands shook too much to hold it.

  “Please don’t pretend to be my friend,” she whispered. Her eyes rose to meet mine, and she continued, “We all know your story. We know that you were only pretending to be one of us.”

  “We heard you quarreling with your mother,” said Mrs. Allan.

  “Yelling,” Marilla pointed out. “You always could speak!”

  I sat back in my chair and rubbed my forehead. It never occurred to me to think of how my actions would impact the other patients. From their perspective I must seem heartless. I pulled at the slip I was mending while I tried to decide how to defend my actions without telling them the whole story.

  “Yes,” I began. “I chose to keep my silence, and I ask you to understand that I had my reasons. But I never intended to hurt any of you.”

  None of them responded. Luckily I was spared when Samuel appeared.

  “I finished early. The carriage is ready,” he said.

  “I’m coming,” I replied as I stood up and placed my sewing back in the basket. The moment I left the room the conversation resumed. I would need to find a way to right their perception of me, but it would have to wait until later.

  Samuel offered me his arm, and together we walked out the front door and to the wooden carriage that was waiting for us. As we approached it, he gave me his hand for assistance, and I took it just to feel my hand in his. It wasn’t until I was standing in the buggy that I saw a small box on the seat.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  Samuel’s face nearly matched his plum vest. “Oh, just something I saw and thought of you.”

  I opened the box and inhaled sharply as my stomach flipped. Nestled in the small box was a folded cream shawl with embroidered roses and lilies all over it. I immediately put it around my shoulders.

  “Thank you,” I said. “This is beautiful.”

  Samuel beamed. “I noticed yours was missing.” I wondered when he’d slipped out to purchase it. Not knowing made it more special somehow.

  He jumped into the seat beside me and clicked his tongue. The horses began to trot, pulling the buggy with them. I hugged the shawl around me and let my shoulder bounce against Samuel’s.

  “Which carriage company did Gregory rent from?” Samuel asked as we turned onto the main road.

  Panic gripped my chest. “There’s more than one?”

  Samuel nodded. “There are the Simstock Brothers and Wayne’s. Do you remember what the carriage looked like?”

  How could I forget? “It was white with a red stripe around it and a velvet interior. I believe the horse was white, and the driver wore a top hat with a green ribbon.”

  Samuel nodded. “The Simstock Brothers have a carriage like that. Let’s go there first.”

  The Simstock Brothers Carriage Company was little more than a barn and storefront at the end of a narrow side road. It smelled strongly of animals and manure, but had a clean look about the yard.

  Samuel helped me out of the wagon and followed me into the storefront. The man behind the counter was well past forty with a round stomach and even rounder cheeks. He stood up as we entered.

  “What can I do you for, sir?” he asked.

  “We’ve come to speak with a driver of yours,” Samuel said. I kept my arm through his and placed my other on the counter. The man may respond better to Samuel’s inquiry, but I’d not be brushed aside.

  “No trouble, I hope,” the man said, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, no. My sister here went driving with a friend and left her gloves behind.”

  The man shifted some papers on the desk. “I don’t have any notes of forgotten items from the last week or so.”

  “They were a special gift,” I explained, playing along with Samuel’s story. “Surely it would be acceptable for me to speak with the driver. If nothing else he might remember where we drove so I could go back and look for them.”

  The man sighed and flipped through his record book. “When did you say you went out?”

  “Sunday,” I said. “It was in a red and white carriage.”

  “A Mr. Gallagher hired it,” Samuel added.

  I could’ve kicked Samuel. For all his education, he didn’t really know much. Gregory would never leave a paper trail, not when one of his hired men could just as easily do the arranging.

  “I’m sorry,” the man said. “But the only carriage I let out Sunday was to a Mr. Pendleman.”

  Samuel looked crestfallen, but my heart raced. Could it be he’d given us the name of Gregory’s spy? I leaned forward to get a good look at his book. Then, just to be sure, I pressed him further. “The driver I seek was a dark-skinned Negro who wore a green ribbon around his top hat.” I smiled, hoping to win more information.

  “Oh, that would be Alfred.” He shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the barn. “He’s with the horses.”

  “Do you mind if we speak with him? It would ease our minds to find those gloves,” Samuel said.

  The man laughed. “They must be special. Go see him if you like.” He gestured toward the stables and went back to his work.

  Samuel and I didn’t waste time with pleasantries, but left the small room and headed straight for the barn. Dirt billowed around my skirt as I rushed through the yard.

  “Don’t be too friendly, Samuel. If Gregory’s man hired him he could be a spy as well.”

  Samuel shuddered. “I’m glad I’m with you instead of Mrs. Lincoln.”

  “Mary Lincoln has more gumption than you credit her with.” I stepped around a small puddle.

  “Perhaps,” Samuel mused. “It can be hard to view patients as more than their illness.”

  I placed my hand on the metal handle of the barn door. “And yet, it is doctors more than anyone who need to be able to see past those labels.”

  The door creaked as I pulled it open and we stepped into the dark barn. It smelled like manure. I held a glove to my face until I adjusted to the stench. There were horses’ tack, brushes, and saddles adhered to one wall and horse stalls along the other, but no men. Then, from the far stall, someone coughed.

  I proceeded to the back of the barn with Samuel following after me. My cream gown swept over hay and puddles of water. “Sir?” I said once I reached the horse stall. The driver was there, picking dirt out of a horse’s hoof.

  The driver turned around, and his jaw dropped. “That you, miss? You the one who jumped from my carriage?” His voice was raspy. The smell of cigar smoke clung to him.

  I nodded. “That was I.”

  “I was worried you hurt yourself tumblin’ like you did.” He didn’t mention that he’d rushed the carriage away from me and hadn’t bothered to return.

  “I’m fine as you can see,” I assured him. Now that I was looking at him I realized what I was asking of the man. A Negro could be beaten for speaking against his employer.

  Samuel cleared his throat. “I believe we have a favor to ask.” He nudged me forward a bit.

  Alfred’s eyes were wide, and he put the grooming brush aside. I
smiled shakily to steady myself and asked, “Do you remember that carriage ride?”

  Alfred dropped his eyes so quickly that I knew he had heard everything. In that slight movement I felt how wrong this was. I couldn’t be sure if anyone would believe this Negro over Gregory, or if he’d even get a chance to speak. I was sure he’d lose his job at the very least. I couldn’t regain my life by stealing someone else’s.

  Alfred turned his hat in his hands. “I remember the argument. It isn’t every day someone jumps from my carriage to avoid a man. That was brave.”

  I fought a smile.

  “Do you remember the particulars of what they discussed?” Samuel pressed. “Anything could help us. I mean, this woman—”

  “Stop, Samuel,” I interrupted.

  “But—”

  “Look at him. We can’t ask this of him. Think of what we are asking.”

  Alfred stood up. “Miss, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much help. It’s all confusing. It wasn’t until you started jostling with the handle of the coach that I started paying attention. And when you jumped, I just knew I shouldn’t turn ‘round to get you, but he didn’t ask me to neither. I brought him back here and the whole time he kept sayin’, ‘An accident. It was an accident.’ He was right upset. I felt plum sorry for the gentleman.”

  “An accident?” I repeated the phrase trying to make it fit my picture, but it was wrong.

  Samuel clucked his tongue. “Paints a different picture. Is that really all he said?”

  Alfred paused. “He tipped me well and left. I don’t know what else to tell you, sir.”

  I took his hand. “Thank you, Alfred. You drove off when I needed solace from him and have spoken with honor now. I can’t ask for more.”

  Samuel stood as if to contradict me, but I put my hand up, stopping him.

  Alfred looked at Samuel. “There is one more thing I will say. I didn’t know Mr. Gallagher, but the man who hired the coach for the day is a regular client. I don’t recall the exact name, but I see him here at least twice a month arranging rentals.”

  That affirmed what I already suspected.

  “Thank you, Alfred,” I repeated. Then I turned and left the way we entered.