She held his arm in her two hands, steadying him as best she could. “I don’t know, Father,” she said, choking with misery and horror and sadness. “I just don’t know.”
CHAPTER 28
On her wedding day, Margot crept down the stairs before sunrise. She was still in her dressing gown, with thick socks on her feet against the February chill. She had been awake for hours, and when the clock at her bedside ticked over to six o’clock, she gave up on sleep, and went in search of coffee.
The kitchen was dim, illuminated only by the faint gleam of Hattie’s polished appliances. Margot found the small cupboard light, and used that to spoon coffee grounds into the percolator, to fetch the bottle of cream from the icebox, and to get a mug from the cupboard. She leaned her hip against the counter as the percolator bubbled, and pondered the new direction of her life from this day forward. The diamonds of her engagement ring twinkled with promise in the low light. They should have reassured her, she thought. Bolstered her confidence. Instead, her mind whirled with questions.
She was pouring out her first cup of coffee when the back door opened with a tiny click. Margot smiled, and as she reached into the cupboard for another mug, she heard Blake chuckle, and one of the aluminum chairs creaked as he sat down.
She set his coffee in front of him and put her own on the table, with spoons from the drawer of silverware. As she settled into a chair, she said, “It’s like old times, Blake. Just you and me in the wee hours.”
He lifted his mug to her. “Old times and new times, sweetheart. I’m very happy about today.”
“Are you?” She cradled the warm mug between her palms. “That’s good. I am, too.”
“No second thoughts?”
She laughed. “Oh, yes. Many second thoughts. But I always come back to the main one.”
“I hope your main thought is for Major Parrish.”
“It is.” She gazed into the swirl of cream in her mug. “It’s going to be an interesting life for him, I’m afraid.”
“He loves you,” Blake said.
“I hope he loves me enough!” she said with another laugh.
“On matters of marriage, I am of no use to you, Dr. Margot.”
She looked up at him, and her heart stirred with affection. “You have already been of use to me, Blake. To us both.”
He gave a little shrug, but his lips curved and his eyes shone with contentment. “I’m so happy to see you settled.”
“Settled? It sounds good, doesn’t it? But I’m not sure I’ll ever be settled.”
Blake picked up his cup and leaned back in his chair. In the dim light he looked almost as young as he had the day she first took her courage in her two hands and went off to medical school. He looked as young as when she had sat here, quaking with nerves on the morning she was to begin her internship. Of course, when he rose from the table he would be leaning on his cane, and when the light was better she would see how white his hair had grown, how lined his face. But just at this moment, he sat across from her as he always had, wise, dependable, strong. Her touchstone. Tears sprang up at the thought, and she touched the heels of her hands to her eyes to press them away.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She sniffled and laughed at the same time. “Oh, yes, fine. I was just thinking of how many times you and I have sat together in this kitchen. How many times you gave me courage when I was afraid. Now you’re doing it again. You’re giving me courage.”
“I don’t give you courage,” Blake said. “You have plenty of that on your own.”
“Confidence, then.”
“Yes, I suppose you could say that. I’ve always had confidence in you.”
“Even now, Blake? Do you have confidence in this, too?” Her voice was a little unsteady, and more tears threatened.
He put out his hand to briefly touch hers. “I do, sweetheart. I have all the confidence in the world.”
Ramona was in her element. Now six months pregnant, dressed in flowing lavender satin, she gave orders like a queen—or perhaps like a general. Florists, caterers, the string quartet she had hired, two waiters in formal wear who would assist Thelma and Leona and Loena, all marched here and there at her commands. Benedict Hall was transformed. Branches of viburnum with delicate pink flowers bloomed in tall vases on the stairs, bowls of winter roses filled the dining room, and evergreen garlands festooned the hall. A spectacular arrangement of forsythia and winter jasmine, lovingly created by the Chinese florist from the Public Market, waited in the large parlor to be the backdrop for the ceremony.
Allison, pink-cheeked with excitement, dashed up and down the main staircase with updates for the bride while Margot hid in her bedroom, away from the fuss. While she and Frank were on their honeymoon journey, taking the train south to California so he could show her March Field, Leona and Loena would move all her things, and his, waiting in modest cartons beside her wardrobe, to the far end of the hall, the large bedroom at the back of the house. It had its own bath and a small balcony facing south over the garden. They would use the back staircase most of the time, for convenience, but Blake had assured Margot the servants wouldn’t find that a problem.
Father had moved Margot’s telephone to their new bedroom, but he apologized to Frank for it. “Rings at all hours,” he warned his son-in-law to be. “You’ll see being married to a doctor has its drawbacks.”
Frank had said, “Yes, sir,” and Margot flashed him a look that made him smile.
Her gown—her wedding gown, the very idea of which still amazed her—hung now in front of her wardrobe, the tissue stripped away, the folds carefully draped to avoid wrinkling. It seemed to her a wonder of stitches and beads and buttons. There was no veil, because the idea of it made Margot shudder. “It’s so medieval,” she had complained. “Pretending the bridegroom has never seen the bride.”
Ramona sniffed. “Mine was beautiful,” she said. “With a coronet of pearls to hold it.”
“Ramona, you were beautiful,” Margot said with sincerity. “The veil suited you perfectly. But can you see me in a coronet of pearls?”
They had been in the fitting room of the bridal department of Frederick & Nelson. The saleswoman looked disapproving, but both Ramona and Allison had dissolved in giggles. Allison said, “You have to admit it, Cousin Ramona. Let’s just keep her from wearing a stethoscope.” At that they all laughed, while the saleswoman, a tape measure in her hands and lengths of white satin hanging everywhere, waited for the Benedict women to return to the serious matter at hand.
They had, of course, eventually, but there had been much more laughter and a great deal of arguing, mostly between Ramona and Allison. Margot had cleared the whole day for the exercise, so she stood as patiently as she could while the saleswoman measured her, Ramona fingered fabrics and frowned over beads and laces, and Allison brought an assortment of prêt-à-porter gowns for Margot to consider.
As it was winter, and an afternoon wedding, they settled on a gown with long net sleeves, a dropped waist, and an exquisitely hand-beaded bodice. Margot pleaded with Ramona and Allison to spare her the train, and they had agreed on an ankle-length hem, with white silk stockings and white peau de soie shoes with a modest heel. There was no coronet, but there were tiny pearls on the headband that Margot would wear over her freshly shingled hair.
It was Allison’s task, on the day, to help Margot into her dress and make sure everything was in place. When it was time, she came dashing up the stairs for the dozenth time. “He’s here!” she gushed. “Major Parrish is here, and he looks divine!”
“Did you think he wouldn’t come?” Margot asked, laughing.
Allison laughed, too. It was a day for laughing. For happiness.
Margot could hardly recognize Allison as the same wan, gaunt creature who had arrived at Benedict Hall in the autumn. She had gained some weight, though no one could call her plump. Her skin had regained the dewiness appropriate to her youth, and her hair looked full and healthy. She dutifully presented
herself every week at the clinic so Margot could check her blood pressure and her temperature and listen to her heart, but her real healing, Margot was convinced, had been effected by Hattie. It wasn’t just food. It was Hattie’s affection, freely offered without criticism or demands, that had made the difference for a lonely, unloved girl.
The only blemish on this day had been the argument about the guest list. Edith Benedict had roused herself just enough to oversee this element of a Benedict wedding, and she had objected with surprising energy to the inclusion of Sarah Church.
“She’s my colleague, Mother,” Margot had said. “We’ve been working together since Blake’s accident.”
“You can’t put a Negro on your invitation list, Margot. You just can’t. It would make everyone uncomfortable.”
“Then everyone can just stay away,” Margot had said irritably. Of all the things to catch her mother’s attention! It was enough to make her want to elope.
It was Blake who solved the problem. He came to Margot at breakfast the next day, bowed, and asked to speak with her. When she followed him out into the hall, he said, “I hope you’ll forgive me, Dr. Margot, but I heard your argument with Mrs. Edith yesterday. I took the liberty of telephoning Nurse Church.”
“You did? Why?”
“Because I felt certain she would be just as uncomfortable at receiving your wedding invitation as Mrs. Edith believes the other guests would be. I was correct, as it happens.”
“She won’t come?”
“She would prefer not to have to refuse.”
“But, Blake—she’s my friend! I don’t have many women friends.”
“She is both your friend and your admirer. I know that.” He gave her a gentle smile, and nodded his head toward the dining room, where the family was gathered. “She will be happier—and Mrs. Edith will—if you can manage to let this one go, Dr. Margot. If you could see your way to letting this issue pass, I think it would be the wise thing to do.”
Margot had pressed her lips together in exasperation, but she knew Blake had everyone’s best interests at heart. In the end, though it galled her, she did as he suggested. Sarah Church didn’t receive an invitation to the wedding. In fact, as Margot perused the list later, she saw that most of the people who would attend were ones she barely knew, friends of her parents, business associates of her father’s. There were a few people from the hospital. Angela Rossi would come, and Matron Cardwell.
And of course, there were Frank’s parents. Margot had met them briefly the day before, work-worn, cheerful people. Frank’s father shook her hand, and called her Doctor. Frank’s mother embraced her, though shyly, as if uncertain whether such a demonstration would be welcome. They were a bit awed by the magnificence of Benedict Hall and the number of servants who kept popping in and out of the dining room and the small parlor, but Ramona, as hostess, was gracious and unpretentious. They seemed to relax after a time.
When she and Frank had said good night, and Blake had driven the Parrishes off to the Alexis Hotel, she said, “I’m going to love them, Frank. I’m sure of it.”
“And they will love you.” He kissed her greedily, and said in a husky voice, “Tomorrow, Margot. Finally.”
She kissed him back. “Tomorrow!”
And now, at last, the day had arrived. Allison helped her into her gown, and combed her hair before slipping on the pearl-encrusted headband. Margot submitted to her young cousin’s deft fingers as she applied a bit of powder, a touch of lipstick, a dab of perfume. She put on the peau de soie shoes, smoothed the skirt of her dress, and turned to the mirror to face her reflection.
She said, “Good God, Allison, who is that woman?”
“Why, I believe that’s Mrs. Frank Parrish,” Allison said with a giggle, and Margot giggled with her.
CHAPTER 29
Blake met them at the train station with a formal, “Welcome home, Dr. Margot. Major Parrish.”
Margot and Frank, grinning like children, could only just restrain themselves from hugging him right there in the center of King Street Station. Blake said, “You both look very well.”
“Blake, it was marvelous!” Margot said. “So relaxing. I think every honeymoon should begin with a train journey.”
“I gather you enjoyed yourselves, then.”
“More than I could have imagined!” she said. “I can’t remember the last vacation I took.”
“That might be because you haven’t taken one in years.”
Frank insisted on helping Blake with their bags, and Margot thought Blake was indulging him, under the circumstances. When they were on their way up the hill to Broadway, she leaned forward from the backseat. “Blake, Frank took me up in an airplane! One of the Jennys, at March Field. It was absolutely the most exciting thing I’ve ever done.”
“That sounds wonderful. I envy you,” Blake said in his dignified way.
“Would you like to fly, Blake?” Frank asked. “I could arrange that.”
Blake drew a breath to answer, but Margot burst out, “Now, don’t say no automatically. Think about this, Blake. It’s the most amazing experience—the wind in your face, and the wings vibrating around you—it’s like being a bird! You just leave everything behind, all the silly things people think are so important. Everything’s tiny and far away, and none of it seems to matter very much at all.”
She could see the curve of Blake’s cheek, and she knew he was smiling. “Very well, Dr. Margot. I won’t say no. If Major Parrish finds it convenient sometime . . .”
“It would be my pleasure, Blake,” Frank said. He found Margot’s hand and held it. “I think I’ve become the Boeing Airplane Company’s expert on the Flying Jennys.”
The staff was waiting when they reached Benedict Hall. The day was typically Seattle, weak shafts of March sunshine illuminating a misting rain. All three maids stood under the shelter of the porch roof, and Hattie, in a freshly ironed apron and wearing an enormous smile, stood with them. Ramona was there, her pregnancy evident even from the street, and Allison, bouncing on her toes with excitement. Only Edith was missing, but Margot hardly noticed. She had become used to her mother’s absences.
Blake stopped in front of the house and got out, leaning on his cane, to open the back doors of the Essex. When Frank said, “Let me get the bags, Blake,” he shook his head.
“No, sir. I’ll bring them in from the garage, Major Parrish, and see they’re carried up to your rooms. You go and say hello to the family.”
They were soon all seated in the small parlor, and Hattie sent Loena in with a tea tray. Margot and Frank handed out the gifts they’d brought, including a silk scarf for each of the maids, which they sent back to the kitchen with Loena.
“Your wedding gifts are stowed in the large parlor, Margot,” Ramona said. “You and Frank can open them when you have time. I had thank-you cards printed for you, but not too many, in case you don’t like the paper I chose.”
“Thank you, Ramona. I’m sure I’ll love it. I don’t have any idea how to do that sort of thing.”
“Actually, I wasn’t sure . . . they’re printed in the names of Major and Mrs. Frank Parrish. Was that all right?”
Margot smiled at Frank, and reached across to touch Ramona’s hand. “Perfect,” she said. “It’s just perfect. I’ll be Dr. Benedict when I’m working, but Mrs. Parrish everywhere else.”
“Well,” Ramona said, relieved, smiling. “That sounds like a sensible arrangement. Good for you, Margot!”
Margot picked up her teacup and eyed her sister-in-law over the rim. “You look really good, Ramona. You’re feeling well?”
“Perfect! Two and a half months to go. We’re doing up the room next to ours as a nursery. It’s big enough so the nurse will be able to sleep in there, too.”
“Goodness! Benedict Hall is going to have a huge staff.”
“Yes, but Blake says it’s fine. We’ve kept Thelma on, as you saw, to help Hattie.”
“Good.” Margot glanced at Frank. “Leona went up to u
npack for us. I hope that was all right with you.”
“Takes some getting used to,” he said. “But I’m sure she’ll make a better job of it than I usually do.”
Margot set her cup down. “Is Mother all right?” she asked Ramona.
Ramona’s smile faded, and she linked her hands over her swelling abdomen. “Something happened,” she said. “Just this morning, actually. I don’t know what it was.”
“Really? She seemed to enjoy the wedding. It brought her out of herself a bit, and I thought perhaps she was getting better.”
“I did, too, or at least I hoped so. But this morning—she was in your old room, after breakfast, helping the twins to clear out the last of your things, and—I don’t know what it was. Leona said she had something in her hands, and she went into Preston’s room and locked the door. She hasn’t come out.”
Margot’s mouth went dry, and her heart began to pound. She rose, and tried to smooth the creases from the skirt of her traveling dress. “I think I’d better go up.” Frank started to get up, too, but she waved him back. “No, you stay. Tell Allison about the seals we saw from the train.”
Anxiety churned in her stomach as she climbed the staircase. Where had she left it? She had just jammed it into a bottom drawer after that terrible night, when she was too tired to think, too emotionally drained to plan anything, and then she had forgotten all about it. There had been the rather lovely Christmas, with the excitement of her engagement. She had been busy all of January with the Women and Infants Clinic, her own clinic on Post Street, and the wedding preparations. She had spent every spare moment with Frank, going to her bedroom only to sleep or to change. Frank had repaired the gouged-out hole in the footings of her clinic, and the shrubs were budding now, stretching their branches up toward the wintry sun. They would soon hide the foundation.
Hall of Secrets (A Benedict Hall Novel) Page 34