The House of Secrets

by Elizabeth Blackwell

  Evelyn looked down at the floor. “Thank you.”

  She was safe. No matter what Alma might suspect, she would never risk a public scandal. Still, Evelyn kept her distance. She received stacks of condolence cards, many from people she’d never met, but there were few visitors. As if death were contagious, friends and neighbors stayed away. Evelyn curtly told Mrs. Trimble that her services were no longer required.

  “As you wish, ma’am.” The housekeeper’s face remained impassive as ever, oblivious to the tragedy her actions had caused.

  Mrs. Gower and Peggy remained, tending to Evelyn and offering occasional meals, which Evelyn barely ate. Her mother tried to convince her to move back to town.

  “You shouldn’t be here alone,” Katherine said.

  “I can’t leave,” Evelyn insisted. “Not until I hear from Will.”

  The only other person who came to the house was Lavinia, who informed Evelyn of the funeral plans and offered to lend her a black dress. When Lavinia announced that it would be best if she arrived at the funeral on her own rather than riding in the family carriage—an order that could only have come from Alma—she had the decency to look embarrassed. Evelyn agreed, then asked if she could see Beatrice. Lavinia shook her head decisively.

  “That wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  Alma had arranged for the funeral to be held at one of Baltimore’s largest churches, correctly predicting that hundreds would turn out to bid farewell to Charles Brewster. When Evelyn arrived, she was escorted to the front pew, where the rest of the family had already been seated. Alma stared at the altar straight in front of her, refusing to acknowledge Evelyn’s presence. Evelyn walked past her mother-in-law and Lavinia and sat down next to Winslow, who gave her a sympathetic nod.

  “A sad day,” he said. “We’re all that’s left of the clan now, I suppose.”

  The grand Brewster family didn’t even fill half a pew.

  “Shame about Will,” Winslow said.

  “What?” Evelyn’s voice rose with concern. “What happened to him?”

  Winslow looked confused. “I only meant, it’s terrible to think he knows nothing of his brother’s death. You don’t happen to know where he took off to, do you?”

  “I wish I did,” Evelyn said quietly. Winslow looked at her curiously.

  “You were always great friends, weren’t you?” he asked.

  Evelyn looked down at her hands, encased in black gloves. She knew something in her tone had already revealed too much.

  “Ah, well, it’s a shame Will felt the need to be so mysterious,” Winslow continued. “Lavinia has exhausted herself trying to find him.”

  Lavinia did appear to be on the verge of collapse. Evelyn had never felt close to her sister-in-law, but she felt a stab of sympathy. One of Lavinia’s brothers was dead. The other was missing. Grief had turned her active, capable mother to stone. If things had been different between them, Evelyn would have taken Lavinia’s hand. As it was, the gulf between them was too vast.

  The service passed in a haze of speeches and hymns. Evelyn shook hands with people at the back of the church afterward, then took her carriage home. She knew missing the reception at Alma’s was a scandalous breach of etiquette, but what more could the Brewsters do to her? She was already a pariah.

  The days dragged by, with no word from Will. Evelyn paced through the house, unwilling to leave in case a telegram or letter arrived. The world went on without her. Somewhere, Will was starting a new life while she lived like a prisoner. She hadn’t slept a full night since Charles’s death.

  One week after the funeral, Evelyn received a curt note from Alma, requesting her presence at a family conference to discuss Charles’s will. Evelyn approached the main house the next day with a combination of dread and anticipation. She didn’t expect Charles to leave her a fortune—he’d never been a generous man—but there would be some sort of settlement.

  Evelyn greeted the butler, Hayes, at the front door and walked down the long, high-ceilinged hallway. She passed the doorway to the dining room, where she’d gathered for so many family dinners. How many times had she passed through this hall with Charles, her heart racing at the thought of seeing Will again? Alma’s sitting room was at the end of the hall. Evelyn walked in and saw her mother-in-law, Lavinia and Winslow sitting in silence.

  “Ah, hello, Evelyn,” Winslow said in a weak imitation of his usual hearty greeting. Lavinia nodded silently. Alma turned away with a grimace, as if the sight of her daughter-in-law caused physical pain. Evelyn pulled up a wooden side chair and sat down opposite Alma.

  “Now that we’re all here, there are business matters to attend to,” Alma said. Her tone was as imperious as ever, but she looked as if duty alone was keeping her going. Her face, always sharp and thin, was now haggard, and her skin looked gray. Her once-haughty shoulders stooped forward. The brittle outer shell of Alma Brewster was crumbling away, revealing the old woman inside.

  “Winslow,” she began, “I am grateful to you for taking the reins at the office. Brewster Shipping must live on, as a legacy to my husband and son.”

  “Rest assured, it will,” Winslow said. “I sent the letter we discussed, introducing myself to the most important customers. Next week, I’ll go to New York and Philadelphia to smooth things over.”

  “Thank you,” Alma said. “It is a great relief to know the business is in good hands. Lavinia—are you still sorting through the correspondence?”

  “Yes, Mother. I’ve put aside those letters you should answer personally.”

  “Any of interest?”

  Lavinia nodded. “A letter from the governor arrived yesterday. Written in his own hand.”

  “How gratifying.” Alma stared straight ahead, lost in thought, as if she were gathering strength for the rest of the conversation. Then she turned to Evelyn.

  “No doubt you’re curious about the will,” she said coldly.

  Taken aback, Evelyn protested, “I never—”

  Alma waved a hand to silence her. “Due to your family background, our lawyers had some concerns about Charles’s will after his marriage.” More than likely, Evelyn guessed, it had been Alma who was concerned, not the lawyers. “The deed to your house remains in my name. Charles’s money and property were to be left to his heirs. In the unlikely event the marriage was childless—” she looked at Evelyn meaningfully, holding her responsible for this unfortunate result “—Charles’s fortune was to be left in trust to his nearest relative, his sister, Lavinia.”

  Evelyn refused to look away. The silence continued, becoming steadily more unbearable.

  Then, perhaps because she was disappointed by Evelyn’s lack of reaction, Alma spat out her next words. “You won’t get a penny.”

  Evelyn stood. Her immediate impulse was to run out of the room. Anything to escape Alma’s hatred. But running away would only confirm every suspicion the Brewsters had about her. Somehow, she must leave with dignity.

  “I have no interest in Charles’s money,” Evelyn said. “I never did.”

  “I have every right to insist you leave the house immediately,” Alma said.

  “Mother—” Lavinia began, looking frantically between Alma and Evelyn. “You wouldn’t put a widow out on the street.”

  “Thank you, Lavinia, but I would prefer to leave,” Evelyn said. “If I could ask for a day to put my things in order?”

  Alma nodded. “As of today, I will no longer be paying the servants’ wages,” she said. “Your accounts at the grocer’s and other shops have been closed.”

  “I would expect no less.” Evelyn struggled to keep her tone neutral. She addressed Lavinia. “Might I say goodbye to Beatrice before I leave? You know I care for her a great deal.”

  Before Lavinia had a chance to respond, Alma broke in. “You will stay away from my granddaughter. You’ve brought enough pain to this family.” Alma didn’t even look at Evelyn as she said the devastating words.

  “I’ll be gone tomorrow,” Evelyn said to Lavini
a, then walked out of the room. As she left the house, Evelyn’s hurt and anger faded. Instead, she felt pity. Alma had lost her favorite child, the one on whom she’d pinned all her hopes. Evelyn could start her life over, but Alma would never recover.

  Despite the biting wind, Evelyn decided to walk home over the open fields. She traced the route Will had followed so many times, pushing through the same tall grass to reach her garden. She watched her house grow steadily larger over the horizon, the house that was no longer hers. She arrived at the edge of the property, her feet moving more quickly across the clipped lawn. She approached the garden room and stepped inside. With the tree bare of leaves, it felt stark and empty.

  For a moment, she missed Will so intensely it hurt. She felt under the stone bench. Nothing, of course. It was ridiculous to think Will might have somehow left a note. He was across the country by now. But she’d sensed his presence here, in the place that had been theirs.

  Evelyn turned away from the bench and returned to the house. As she came through the parlor, Peggy rushed toward her.

  “Is it true? Are we being turned out?” she asked in a panicky voice.

  “I’m afraid so,” Evelyn said. “I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

  “I’m told I’ll have my wages paid tomorrow, then I’m on my own.”

  “I’m sure I could put in a good word with Lavinia,” Evelyn offered. “Perhaps she could use another girl on her staff.”

  Peggy shook her head. “Begging your pardon, but I have no interest in working for Mrs. Preston. Or at the main house. I thought I might find a position in Baltimore. Do you think I could do that? Would a city family hire someone like me?”

  “Of course they would. I’ll write you a letter of reference.”

  Peggy sniffed and blinked quickly, stifling tears. “It’s been a pleasure working for you, Mrs. Brewster. Where will you go?”

  “I’ll stay with my mother for now,” Evelyn told her. “Then, who knows?”

  “Will you need help with your things?”

  Evelyn shook her head. The bag she’d packed to run off with Will was still sitting in her bedroom. She could be gone in a matter of minutes. But she wanted one last night to make peace with what had happened here.

  “Mrs. Gower says to tell you she’ll prepare dinner tonight, then say her goodbyes,” Peggy said. “Oh—I almost forgot. This telegram came for you.”

  She handed Evelyn a Western Union envelope. Evelyn ripped into the paper and read the message eagerly.

  Meet me in San Francisco. Bay Hotel. Miss you desperately. Come soon. Will.

  San Francisco! Evelyn’s heart began to race. He made it sound so simple. She would have to travel across the country for days by herself to reach him. They had very little money, and faced an uncertain future. But none of it mattered. He missed her desperately. Evelyn had tried so hard to be strong. Now, she wondered how much longer she could hold on without him.

  “Good news?” Peggy asked.

  “Yes, very,” Evelyn said.

  “Time you were happy.” Understanding flashed briefly between them. Peggy might be flighty, but she was a good enough servant to keep her mistress’s secrets.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Evelyn walked through the empty house. So many terrible things had happened here, but now she could only remember the stolen moments with Will. Their kisses in the parlor downstairs. The feel of his body next to hers in her bedroom. The afternoons she’d sat in the conservatory, wondering if she would catch a glimpse of him passing through the garden. Her marriage and her husband had died in this house. But it was also the place where her love for Will had bloomed.

  She was drawn out of her memories by a knock on the front door. She answered it and saw Winslow and Beatrice standing on the porch.

  “Evelyn!” Winslow announced cheerfully, as if they were greeting each other at Sunday dinner. “Glad you’re still here.”

  Beatrice was pressed against her father’s side. She watched her aunt warily.

  Evelyn leaned over and opened her arms, and Beatrice fell into them.

  “Aunt Evelyn!” she said. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too,” Evelyn said. “I’m so happy to see you.” Standing up while keeping one arm around Beatrice’s shoulders, she said to Winslow, “Please come in.”

  Winslow looked quickly toward the front drive. “I’m afraid we don’t have much time,” he said. “It’s Lavinia, you see. She wouldn’t approve. I hope you understand.”

  Evelyn nodded.

  “It’s a secret!” Beatrice whispered, her eyes wide with excitement. “Daddy says I’m not to tell Mother we saw you!”

  “How exciting,” Evelyn said. “Secrets are fun, aren’t they?”

  “It’s awfully awkward,” Winslow said. “Lavinia feels bound to take her mother’s side, though I think Alma has treated you most unfairly.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Evelyn said, and she realized she meant it. Unlike Winslow, she no longer had to worry about living according to the Brewster code.

  “In any case, you and Beatrice share a special bond,” Winslow continued. “She deserves the chance to say goodbye.”

  Beatrice started crying, a few hiccups at first, then shuddering sobs. As Evelyn held the girl’s shaking body, she began to cry, too. She’d thought she could make a clean break with the Brewsters, but part of her would always worry about Beatrice. How could she ever be happy, growing up in this family?

  “Why do you have to leave?” Beatrice demanded.

  Evelyn struggled to find a way to make her niece understand. “It makes me too sad, staying here,” she said.

  “But I love this house!” Beatrice said. “It’s my favorite place in the whole world.”

  “Will you take care of it for me?” Evelyn asked.

  “I’ll write and tell you all about it,” Beatrice agreed. “Will you write to me, too?”

  Evelyn looked up at Winslow. He nodded.

  “Once I’m settled,” Evelyn said, “I’ll send a letter with my address. I promise.”

  “Perhaps Aunt Evelyn should send her letter to me, at the office,” Winslow suggested. “That way we can keep our secret.”

  “Ooh, yes,” Beatrice said. “A secret correspondence! Like in a book!”

  Evelyn brushed the tears from Beatrice’s cheeks. “I promise I won’t forget you.” The diamond on her wedding ring flashed in the sunlight. Evelyn took the ring off and pressed it into Beatrice’s hand. “Here,” she said. “Something to remember me by.”

  “Are you sure?” Winslow asked.

  “I don’t need it anymore,” Evelyn said.

  “Where will you be going?” Winslow asked.

  “California.” Evelyn couldn’t resist saying it aloud, feeling the way the letters rolled off her tongue.

  “That’s a long journey on your own!” Winslow protested. “Why ever would you feel the need…” His voice trailed off. At the same moment, Evelyn remembered something Will had said at the dinner table one evening, that if he had to live his life over again, he would start afresh in a place like California. Alma had accused him of being ridiculous, and Winslow had fretted about the unsavory types who settled in such remote areas. But Will had stood firm. Now, as Winslow looked at Evelyn, she blushed.

  “Ah—I see, of course,” he muttered. “Well, then, I hope you’ll give him my best.”

  Evelyn nodded.

  “Come,” Winslow said to Beatrice, taking his daughter’s arm. He reached into his coat pocket with his other hand. “Something for your journey,” he said. Evelyn took the thick envelope imprinted with the Brewster Shipping address. Had Charles left some sort of document for her at the office?

  “What is this?” Evelyn asked, but Winslow shook his head.

  “Save it for later,” he said. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Beatrice.” He turned to his daughter. “Come now.”

  Beatrice hugged and kissed Evelyn one last time before being gently pulled away by her father. Evelyn watched
Winslow lean down and talk to Beatrice as they made their way along the drive. Winslow might be pompous and boring, but he was a good father. Perhaps, with him, Beatrice stood a chance.

  Evelyn didn’t have time to open the envelope after they left. She was already late for lunch at her mother’s house, where she planned to spend the day before leaving for good. She slid the envelope into one of her bags, and it wasn’t until the next day, when she’d taken her seat on the train to Chicago, that she thought to open it. Inside, she found no documents and no letter. Simply a stack of ten dollar bills. Evelyn nervously shoved the money back into her bag, hoping no one had seen it. Peeking inside, she flipped through the bills. Winslow had given her a thousand dollars. Enough to begin a new life.

  SHE AND WILL COUNTED the money again, over and over, on that first rapturous night together in San Francisco.

  “Good old Winslow!” Will had exclaimed with a laugh. “Who ever thought I’d be saying that?”

  Already, there was something different about Will. The burden of the Brewster reputation had been lifted, thrown off like a scratchy, suffocating overcoat. Will’s face, always cheerful but calm, now lit up when he smiled, which he did almost continuously from the moment he spotted Evelyn in the hotel lobby. He’d introduced her to the desk clerk as his wife, then hurried her up the stairs to his room, kissing her neck and making her giggle with embarrassment and pleasure. His happiness was infectious.

  Their reunion upstairs was quick and intense. Freed from the fear of being caught, they came together with breathless relief. Afterward, they lay entwined, eagerly making plans for the future.

  “We’ll pay him back,” Will said.

  “Of course we will,” Evelyn said. “Once we get settled.”

  “Speaking of which,” Will said. He reached over to the bedside table and picked up a small velvet draw-string bag. “This is for you.”

  Evelyn pulled out a ring—a simple silver band.

  “It’s not much,” Will said. “Nothing to compare to that diamond Charles gave you. Still, I was hoping…”

  Evelyn slid the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly.