West From Fair Hill
Faith Elizabeth Cummings
Copyright © 2014 Faith Elizabeth Cummings
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
1
Sheila Scott sat in her library, alone and yet preoccupied. She was not used to being home during the day, and did not like it. Alan Scott, her architect husband, was at his office, and ordinarily, Sheila would have been out doing something to pass the time. The important thing was to be seen, and to be seen doing good works. Usually, she was doing just that. She was a popular person in Newport, Vermont because she was rich, and everyone looked to her to lend prestige to his or her events or endeavors by her presence or her wealth. Usually, this was something she rarely thought about. It was how things were done, and more importantly, how things were done her way. However, today she sat in silence, looking about her listlessly. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and each shelf was full of books, but most of them were seldom if ever read. They had been here all her life, and she made sure that the servants kept them clean and in order, but Alan was the only one who ever took one from the shelves and opened it. Sheila had no interest in reading or any other pursuit that could be done alone.
Her eyes focused on the window near which she sat and she realized that the weather matched her mood. It was raining hard and the streets were running with water. The carriages were driven slowly but expertly by coachmen, who knew how to navigate the mud and water that sought to mire their wheels and make it hard going for the horses who drew them. This was the second day of the rain and Sheila wondered as she looked out, if it would ever stop. She was glad, at least for a moment, that she had no plans for the day. At least she would not have to put a gown in jeopardy going out into this muck.
She rang the bell on the table beside her and a servant came in to see what she needed.
“Would you like your tea, ma’am?” she asked.
“Yes, Lavinia, and please light the fire. I feel a bit of a chill in here today. It must be the rain.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll light the fire and then get your tea.” She went about the task efficiently, and quietly, as Sheila liked, and soon a cheerful blaze was warming the room, adding its light to the dismal day. Lavinia brought the tea tray and lit a lamp to give Sheila more light near- by.
“Thank you, Lavinia,” she said flatly, as Lavinia finished her tasks.
“Yes, ma’am, you’re welcome. She left the room and closed the door behind her. Sheila poured herself a cup of tea and added milk and sugar, and then nibbled on one of the small cakes on a plate near the teapot. She was not hungry, but it tasted good with the hot tea. She realized that she had not eaten much for the past few days, and wondered what was going on with her usually healthy appetite.
When she finished the tea, she settled back in her chair and was overtaken by a lassitude she had never known. She drifted off to sleep in her chair, something she had never done before, and was still there hours later when Alan came home from work.
Lavinia told him about it when he came inside, dripping from the rain and trying not to track mud on the carpets.
“She fell asleep this morning and we couldn’t wake her at lunch time, sir, so we covered her and left her to sleep where she was.”
Alan went to the library, concerned for Sheila, as this was so unusual. He found her still asleep. He carried her upstairs to her room and asked Lavinia to settle her comfortably in bed. Then he left the house and went to get Doc Wilson from Fair Hill. There were many fine physicians in Newport, he knew, but he was well acquainted with Doc Wilson and liked his steady manner. He trusted that Doc Wilson would give Sheila the best care he could. If he could not, he would recommend someone in town.
He found the doctor in his office, but free of patients.
“My wife seems to be ill, and I wondered if you could come and see her.,” he explained as they sat together in the office.
“Sure, I can come. Does she have a physician in Newport?” Doc asked, reaching for his coat and hat. “No, Sheila is never ill and she doesn’t see a doctor regularly. So when this happened, I thought of you.
They left the office and returned to the estate. When they entered the bedroom where she lay, Sheila was a bit more awake, but seemed disoriented, and could not focus on either man.
“I have never seen her like this.” Lavinia said as she gave them room at the bedside.
“Sheila, I’ve brought the doctor to see you.” Alan told her, taking her hand.
Sheila looked up at him, but his words did not register and her face remained Blank. Doc began to examine her quietly, and she made no protest. She was weak, listless, and almost unaware of her surroundings.
“I don’t find anything physically wrong, Alan, but I believe she is very depressed,” he said after he had finished. “Is she behaving in any way out of the ordinary?”
“She hasn’t been eating well, and she doesn’t normally sleep during the day.” Alan replied.
“That’s classic for a severe depression. Is she sleeping well at night?”
“I don’t know. We don’t sleep together.”
“Okay, well, I’m not sure how much I can help without her being able to talk, but I will come by every day and try and make some progress with her.” doc offered.
“I would appreciate the help, Doc,” Alan agreed. He had felt at ease with this man ever since he had taken his niece up to Fair Hill in 1887.
Now it was 1899, and Alan and Doc had spent a great deal of time together.
“I’ll be glad to come.” Doc agreed as they left the room and Sheila fell asleep again.
He was true to his word, and came the next afternoon. He tried to talk to Sheila and sometimes got a word or two in reply, but more often, his comments or questions were met with silence. Still he came every day, sometimes talking to her quietly and getting terse answers that had little or no feeling behind them. Sometimes, he did not talk and they sat together in silence, neither feeling particularly uncomfortable. Sheila began to look forward to his visits despite herself. Though she did not say anything to Alan about that, she began to talk a little more, hesitantly at first, and then more as the weeks passed. However, her physical condition remained much the same. Often, when doc arrived, he found her sleeping and gently woke her with a touch on her arm or a quiet word. He expected anger at these times, but was usually met with a bland look or a simple “Oh, it’s you.” Sheila had never spoken his name or title, but he knew she knew who he was, if not where he lived. He also knew that, if she were aware that he was from Fair Hill, she probably would not allow him in the house, much less to talk to her. Therefore, he kept that bit of information to himself.
One winter day, as they sat in the library, being warmed by a cheerful fire, he spoke out of the silence that had enveloped them.
“Mrs. Scott, how would you feel about having a companion here with you? She could be someone to talk to and keep you more occupied
.”
“You come almost every day,” she answered, a bit more lucid than usual.
“Yes, I do, and I would probably keep coming now and then to see how you are. However, I mean someone who could be here when I cannot. I am a doctor and I have other patients.”
“Yes, of course,” she answered, as if she should have known that.
“You are very important to me though,” he added, putting a light hand over hers. “I want you to have the care you need.
“Because we’re able to pay for it,” was her quiet comment.
“I’m not charging you anything for these visits, Sheila,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You must be charging Alan, then,” she said, looking away absently.
He moved into her line of sight, so that she could not look away from his face, then spoke again.
“I’m not charging either of you anything.”
“Why?” she asked, unable to meet his gaze.
“Because I don’t need to.” I truly want to help you.”
“I don’t need charity,” she snapped, a bit of her old fire returning.
“No, this is not charity. This is just care,” he answered.
Sheila knew her face showed confusion. She clearly did not understand what he was saying.
“I know that many people have looked to you for what they could get from you. That is one of the problems with being wealthy. People don’t need you for yourself but only what you can give them.” ‘I don’t feel that way. I have all I need, and so does the friend that I am thinking of bringing to you. She doesn’t need anything from you either except friendship.”
“I make it a point not to have friends,” she Admitted.
“Well, that may be why you’re in the situation you’re in now.” Doc said practically. “You may have to change that way of thinking in order to get well again.”
“I’m not sick. I’m just tired.” She said, with a deep sigh.
“All right, I’ll accept that for now.” May I bring this friend to meet you?”
“Yes,” she agreed, having the feeling that, if she did not, he would keep asking until she gave in. Doc knew she was giving in to end the discussion, but he also knew that this might be the way to get beyond her barriers and reach the crux of the problem.
The next time he arrived, he was not alone. Molly O’Connor was with him, and she carried a small bag with a few things. Alan showed her to a guest room near Sheila’s, while Doc went to the library to talk to Sheila.
“I have brought your new companion,” he said as they enjoyed the fire.
Sheila watched the flames for a moment or two in silence, and then spoke.
“Where is she?”
“Alan took her up to her room to put her things away, and then they’ll be down.” Doc replied.
They waited in silence until Alan and Molly entered the library. Molly took a chair near Sheila and spoke quietly.
“My name is Molly,” she said gently, a warm smile lighting her face. Sheila thought she looked very motherly and kind. She was sure that it would not take long for Molly to give up on her, and return to wherever she came from.
“I don’t really know what you think you can accomplish,” She couldn’t help saying.
“Well, we’ll see how things go and if either of us isn’t happy, then I’ll leave.” Molly said. “But I hope you will give me at least a month or so to see how it goes.”
Sheila said nothing, but her face remained passive.
They all sat together then, enjoying the fire and entering into the silence. The only sounds were the crackling fire and the clock on the mantelpiece. Molly looked about her surreptitiously, unused to such luxury, and unsure how she felt about it. She had decided not to use plain speech, even though it went against her Quaker beliefs. The goal was to get close to Sheila and help her regain her emotional stability. Molly knew she could not do that if Sheila surmised that she was from Fair Hill. She knew, from the previous situation with Barbara, that Sheila hated Fair Hill and all that it stood for. Therefore, for now, she would keep her origins a secret.
“Is anyone ready for lunch?” Alan finally said out of the stillness. Sheila was startled by his voice and Molly covered her hand with a work-worn one to soothe her. The door opened as she did so and Lavinia stood in the doorway.
“Lunch is served in the dining room,” she said looking at Sheila.
“Thank you, Lavinia,” Sheila said quietly and they all went to the dining room. Molly noticed that Sheila ate little, though she seemed to like what she ate.
“Are you not hungry, or would you like something else?” she asked after Sheila put down her fork, having eaten only a few bites.
“Nothing tastes good these days,” she said listlessly. “I just eat because I know the doctor wants me to.” Doc chuckled a little, and handed her the fork again.
“Doc wants you to eat more than a few bites.” He said half teasing. “You’ll feel better if you eat.”
After lunch, Sheila went to her room to rest and the other three gathered in the library again, to discuss the situation.
2
“Molly, if you knew her better, you’d realize what a drastic change has come over her.” Alan began, as they seated themselves around the fire.
“I heard plenty about her a few years ago when she was trying to keep Barbara from joining the meeting or getting interested in Paul. And we all know how well that worked.” Doc and Alan laughed at her joke.
“Yes, she never quite got over that one. She didn’t want Barbara here, but she didn’t want her in Fair Hill either.” Doc agreed. “But now it seems she’s lost all her will to live. I cannot quite figure out what must have happened. Did you and she have any earth shaking discussions before this happened, Alan?”
“No, we very seldom talked about anything. It has been that way for years now. She doesn’t want to hear from me most of the time.”
“Why is that?” Molly ventured to ask. “You two must have had some feeling for one another when you married.”
“I think she married me because her father wanted her to, and she wanted to keep the money in the family. I loved her when we married and I still do. But it’s much harder now since she wants nothing to do with me.” he admitted sadly.
“Maybe this will bring her to her senses,” Molly suggested. “Maybe she’ll realize what she really needs is a strong marriage and someone who loves her for herself and not her money.”
“That would be a miracle, and one that I would welcome.” he agreed. “I’ve been praying for that for a long time.”
“Then I will pray for it too.” She told him gently.
Alan turned to Doc again. “What usually causes this kind of illness?” he asked.
“Usually, it can be traced to some event or some physical illness. That is why I asked if you and she had had any arguments or big discussions. Something must have surfaced to make her so unhappy and incapacitated. It is almost as if she is fearful and is expecting some kind of punishment at times. Even minimally raised voices startle her and she seems to prefer silence to any talk. She is very withdrawn and seems to want to hide herself from the rest of the world. It seems there is some kind of shame or guilt that is weighing on her. However, she has not told me anything, and I cannot get her to talk enough to ask questions. I have the feeling that even if I asked, she would not tell me. I’m not even sure if she herself knows what’s going on.”
“She was always so outgoing, the center of everything here.” Alan mused.
“I think that was a cover, Alan, that has been stripped away somehow. She has nothing now to protect her.”
“I’m sure Alan could protect her,” Molly put in.
“Yes, physically, he could. But not emotionally. She’s dealing with something deep down, and it is too much for her to bear so she is not facing it. But whatever it is has caught up with her, despite her efforts to keep it hidden.”
“Do you think it’s the lack of children?” Alan asked qui
etly.
“It could be that, at least in part. But I think it’s something more.” Doc said musingly. “I just can’t figure out what.”
They sat on for a while, talking of other things; all of them hoping that spring would come soon, as then perhaps Sheila would feel better.
“The grounds here are so beautiful, I can imagine they are very enjoyable in the spring,” Molly began. However, her last word was drowned out by a scream and then running footsteps that stopped outside the closed library door. The door opened before anyone could rise, and Lavinia ran in, breathless and pale.
“Mr. Scott, Mrs. Scott is gone! I stepped out for a few minutes, once she was asleep, and when I came back her room was empty and the window was open.”
They all followed her up to Sheila’s room, where they found things just as she had said.
“Do you think she jumped, sir?” Lavinia asked in frightened tones.
“No, Lavinia, she probably climbed down from that tree.” Alan said, pointing to a tree whose branches touched the window. The tree was old and the branches were thick and strong. “This was her room when she was a child and she probably used that tree often,” he added. He closed the window as a strong, cold breeze was springing up, bringing snow and cold air into the room.
“Looks like we’re going to have a storm,” Doc said putting on his coat. “I think we’d better go look for her.”
The doctor left the room, followed by Alan, and after he got his coat, they left the house.
Molly remained in Sheila’s room, praying for a safe return for all of them, and hoping Sheila would be all right.
It took them a half hour to find her, but finally they did. She was huddled in the summerhouse, shaking with cold and wrapped in a blanket. She was unconscious or seemed to be, so Doc lifted her in strong arms and carried her back to the house. He took her upstairs to her room, and she was soon settled in bed again, with hot bricks to warm her feet, and heavy quilts tucked around her. Molly was the one to undress her and tuck her in, wrapping her warmly and making sure that the hot bricks were brought up from the kitchen. She sat in a chair near Sheila’s bed, determined to be there when, or if she woke.
West From Fair Hill (A Refuge in Fair Hill Book 3) Page 1