by Marie Silk
Mary smiled and went to hug him. “Thank you for sending Fiona. It means the world to me.”
“Of course,” he said, kissing her hair. “I’m sorry I was not more understanding about you needing help.”
“How did you manage to come home at this time of day?” asked Mary.
William took a deep breath. “There are things we need to discuss that can’t wait any longer.”
She sat down with him on a bale of hay in the stable. “I’m listening.”
“The board of directors offered me the position at the hospital. It would mean a regular salary but I’ll be required to work late often.”
Mary shrugged. “I guess we are already used to that. Violet and I will come visit you in town as much as we can.”
“But Mary, I fear we are strangers already. I’ve neglected you and our baby, and I’m very sorry for it.”
“You needn’t be sorry. I understand.”
William swallowed painfully. “You can tell me anything. No matter how bad it is. I just want you to be honest with me.”
She looked at him curiously. “How have I not been honest with you?”
“About the new hospital. I know you went there.”
Mary stood up from the haystack. “William, I already swore to you that I never stepped foot inside that hospital. Why don’t you believe me?”
William clutched his stomach in agony. “The police showed me the patient register at the hospital. The last page was torn from it and missing.” William pulled the paper from his pocket and held it out to her. “So tell me what I should think about this.”
Mary skimmed the page and sucked her breath in sharply when she read her name. “I don’t know why my name is on here or who could have written it. Is that why you took the page from the register? Because you thought I was somehow involved and you were trying to protect me?”
William looked at her in disbelief. “I didn’t take the page, Mary. Sam found it—in your car.”
“My car?” Mary sat back down on the hay. “This is terrible.”
William’s voice cracked emotionally. “I just need you to tell me the truth! If you went to the hospital that night, just tell me. I can’t tell you how badly I want to throw this paper into the fire and forget that I ever saw it!”
“But I am telling the truth!” she insisted. “William, someone must be trying to implicate me! After our conversation yesterday, I went to my jewelry box for my gold bracelet to wear, and it was gone!”
“You think someone wrote your name on this paper, put it in your car, and stole your bracelet?”
“It has to be,” cried Mary. “There is no other possible explanation!”
“Who could have access to the house to do such a thing?” William questioned. He was desperate to believe that Mary had been framed.
A sudden look of realization crossed Mary’s face. “It was her! It was Mrs. Davenport! She was in our house! Oh, I just knew we couldn’t trust her!”
“That woman is even more despicable than I imagined if she could put her daughter in a situation like this,” William said bitterly. “I think we should explain to the police right away. Then I can take the job at the hospital with a clear conscience. Clara can attest that you were at the house with her all night, can’t she?”
Mary thought back and frowned. “That was the day Clara went to Pittsburgh. I did not see her until the next morning.”
“Then the servants can confirm that you were here at the house,” William said.
Mary furrowed her brow. “I—I don’t know. It’s the strangest thing, but now I can’t remember anything about that day…only that Clara left for Pittsburgh. I must have been here. Oh William, I’ve been such a wreck lately. I can hardly think straight anymore!”
William looked at her with guilt. “I spoke to Abigail on the telephone. She said you are still in pain from the birth. Is that true?”
Mary looked away from him and nodded. “I never wanted you to feel bad about it or think you did something wrong during the operation. But I’ve learned something about myself…something that Mrs. Davenport said when she was here. She explained that I was a weak child and that I was slow to heal from injuries. She said it was a condition that she took me to specialist doctors for. It’s why I faint sometimes. And it’s why the incision from the birth never healed over.”
“It can’t be possible, Mary,” William said. “That was months and months ago. It has to be an infection. Let me look.”
Mary shook her head. “It’s bad, William. I don’t want you to see what I look like.”
“You should be healed by now. It’s scaring me that you’re saying you haven’t.”
Mary closed her eyes and leaned back against the hay stack while William lifted her dress to view the scar. He exhaled deeply in distress and gingerly put her dress back down. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said with his head in his hands. “I would have done anything to make sure you were able to rest.” He lifted her up from the haystack and carried her away from the stable.
“What are you doing?” asked Mary, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I can walk back to the house.”
William continued to carry her to the house and up the front steps. “I’m going to close down the clinic. I’ll take time off before I accept the new position—while we figure out how to help you with your condition. I have a doctor friend in Philadelphia who knows about this sort of thing.”
Mary did not want to argue. She felt great relief in knowing that she could rest in bed without having to feel guilty. William carried her to their bedroom and laid her on the bed. He then lay down beside her. “How painful is it, Mary?” he asked. “I’m going to get you medicine to lessen your symptoms, but I don’t want to give too much or too little.”
“Does it have to be with a needle?” Mary asked squeamishly. “I’m terrified of needles.”
“No, it does not need to be an injection,” he said.
As they spoke of it, the gruesome memory of a recent injection suddenly began to surface in Mary’s thoughts. She sat up straight in bed and began to breathe so fast that she was gasping for air. William tried to get her to lie down, but she pushed his hands away. “Oh no, what have I done?” she whispered, her eyes wide with terror. “I thought they were only nightmares—but it was real!”
“What are you saying?” he asked, feeling his own heart pounding rapidly.
Mary turned to him, shaking in fright. “I went to the hospital that night, William! I was there! It was gone from my memory until only this moment! Oh dear God, what have I done—I think it was me who killed him!”
Chapter 14
Mary felt her eyelids slowly open. She looked around the room that was now dark except for the light from the fire. William was no longer beside her. Mary tried to sit up.
“Don’t try to get up just now, dear,” said Abigail’s gentle voice from the corner of the room. Mary felt the pillows being straightened behind her head. “You fainted hours ago.”
“Where’s William?” Mary asked.
“He had to go to the clinic but he should be back shortly,” Abigail told her. She handed her a teacup and saucer. “I’ve made you some chamomile tea.”
Mary set the saucer on the nightstand. “Abigail, I may need your promise to take care of Violet…for good.”
“Try to rest, Mary,” Abigail whispered. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m afraid I might be going to jail. Did William tell you what happened?”
Abigail poured herself a cup of tea. “There’s not a soul in this house who would believe you did any such thing. You must rest and clear your mind now.”
William entered the bedroom a few moments later. He placed several bottles of pills on the nightstand. “What are those?” Mary asked.
“They are to help with the pain and help you sleep. We will try only one at a time until we know how your body responds.”
“Do you have to get back to the clinic now?”
“I don�
��t have to get back, Mary. The clinic is closed until further notice. I locked the doors and put a sign in the window directing patients to the hospital instead. I’m going to stay here at the house while you recover.”
“I remember why I went to the hospital that night,” Mary said mournfully. “I’m sorry, William. I should have listened to you about Twilight Sleep. I just wanted to feel what life was like without the pain…I thought it could help me sleep and not hurt so much.”
William shook his head. “That’s why you never remembered going into the hospital that night.”
“I still can’t remember all of it,” Mary admitted. “I know I went in to ask for the treatment—but I don’t know what happened after that. I don’t even remember how I got home that night.”
“You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time, dear,” said Abigail. “If you can’t remember what happened, then there is no use worrying about it now.”
“Of course I am worried. I was there the same night the doctor turned up dead. I’m worried what I might be truly capable of.”
“This is my fault,” said William, his voice full of pain. “I should have told you from the beginning why I don’t like Twilight Sleep. It’s what killed my sister Violet. She had the injection while she was in labor…they tied her to the bed like an animal because she struggled to get away…and she was never the same after that day. The baby did not survive the distress. My sister followed in death not long afterward. I resent that my last memories of her were in such a state. I can’t believe you went through that nightmare, Mary. I’m sorry.”
There was a knock at the door just then. William opened the door to see Mrs. Spencer. “The detective is here and asks to speak with you, Dr. Hamilton.”
William exchanged bewildered glances with Mary and Abigail. “I’ll be right there,” he said to the housekeeper, then gently closed the door. “Did someone call the police?”
Abigail shook her head. “No one here could have.”
“All right—I’ll just go downstairs and see what he wants,” William tried to say calmly, but the ladies heard the anxiety in his words.
“Abigail, I have to tell them I was there that night,” Mary whispered after William left.
“You’ll do no such thing.”
“What if they suspect William?”
Abigail put her hand over Mary’s. “We must pray that is not what’s happening downstairs right now.” They waited and prayed for William to come through the door and tell them that everything would be all right.
The bedroom door opened slowly, but it wasn’t William who came through. It was Ethan. “Abigail, Mary, there you are. William just said to tell Mary not to worry, but he is going down to the police station. What’s going on?”
Mary started to cry. Abigail tried to console her. “Now Mary, we don’t know that it’s anything terrible. He may only be going for a short while as a formality. It does us no use to worry when we don’t even know what is happening.”
“I want you to call Clara to come here. She deserves to know what is happening. Please bring her in so I may tell all of you everything.”
Clara’s mouth hung open as Mary relayed the events of that night, but she did not hesitate to tell Mary exactly what she thought. “Don’t even think about trying to turn yourself in, Mary,” Clara declared sternly. “Just this morning there was an article in the gossip column—the one I said you wouldn’t like—about Dr. Jones and his former cellmate. The convict escaped the prison the same day as the murder. You probably did nothing more than take the injection and go home straight after. The convict could have gotten the doctor after that.”
“I wish I could be sure of that, Clara,” Mary said. “But the police have my bracelet and who knows what other kind of evidence they may have that I was there. I think it’s best to go tell them the truth.”
“You mustn’t think of doing anything until William comes back,” Abigail pleaded. “Mary, you are not well. You’re not thinking clearly!”
Mary turned her head to see Violet stirring in the cradle. Mary broke out in tears when she thought of what might happen to her once she walked through the doors of the police station.
Clara turned to leave the room. Ethan stood at the door and opened it for her. “Don’t let her leave this room,” Clara said. “There’s something I have to do.” Ethan nodded and closed the door behind her.
Clara went downstairs to the library and sat in front of the telephone at the desk. She made a call to the Yorktown Inn. “Margaret? It’s me, Clara. I think you should know what Mary is planning to do.”
Chapter 15
Phillip Valenti sat at his kitchen table in the early morning hours. He gazed at his mother’s ring that seemed so small in his hand.
“Are you getting married, Papa?” Gabriella’s voice said from behind him.
Phillip immediately closed his hand over the ring. “I thought you were still sleeping,” he said.
“I was, but Donnie kicked me, so now I’m awake.” She sat across from him at the table. “Who are you going to give the ring to?” she questioned.
“This is your grandmother’s ring. It is very old and has been in the family for many years. She put it in my pocket when I wasn’t looking, so I have to return it to her.”
“Did Grandma want you to give it to Miss Clara?”
Phillip sighed and evaded the question. “Why would your grandmother do that?”
“Because she saw how pretty and nice Miss Clara is.”
Phillip chuckled and opened his hand to show her. “What do you think?”
She gasped at the sight of the ring. “Oh, it’s lovely, Papa. Can I keep it?”
He laughed harder this time. “Maybe someday, when you are much much older.”
“How much older?”
Phillip shrugged. “Perhaps when you are thirty or forty years old and getting married.”
“Thirty or forty!” she exclaimed. “Aren’t grownups dead by then?”
“Gabriella Maria,” he said, giving her a look. “It’s too early for you to be up.”
“Are you going to give the ring to Miss Clara?” she persisted.
“Go back to sleep, young lady,” he said with a groan. “I will speak to you about it later.”
At Davenport House, Mary was getting ready to leave for the police station. Abigail pleaded with her to stay in bed.
“I must know why William never returned last night,” Mary said.
“Then let Ethan go to the police station and find out,” she urged.
“I need to go and see for myself what is happening, Abigail.” Mary took her hat and gloves and left the room.
Clara, Ethan, and Abigail followed her outside and tried to talk her out of it. To everyone’s surprise, a car drove up to the house and parked in front, blocking Mary’s car from being able to leave. Mrs. Davenport climbed out.
Mary groaned. “What is she doing here?”
Mrs. Davenport walked up to Mary with her new silver cane. “Mary, I’ve heard what you plan to do and I am here to stop you. I did not work so hard to give you this grand life only for you to throw it all away!”
“You are the last person on earth who could understand what’s going on,” Mary said.
“What I don’t understand is how you could do something so foolish and abandon your family. I’ve been in jail before, Mary. It is hell on earth and don’t think for a second I will let you see inside its walls for as long as I’m alive.” The others dared not speak up, for it was the first time they agreed with Mrs. Davenport and hoped that she could convince Mary to listen to her.
“I don’t want to go to prison,” Mary replied. “I have a paper the police are looking for, and if I don’t turn it in, I can never have a clear conscience. It’s none of your concern.”
Mrs. Davenport stomped her cane into the gravel. “It’s every bit of my concern! Who do you think drove you home that night when you could not even walk on your own? Who do you think dressed you in your ni
ghtclothes and put you into bed?”
Mary was aghast. “What are you saying?”
“I was there, Mary. My hotel room looks into the windows of the hospital. I watched you go in, and then,” she shuddered. “The rest is unspeakable.”
“If you know what happened, you must tell me!”
“Trust me, you don’t want to hear this,” she said, looking around at the others.
“I have to know,” said Mary. “It’s the only thing I will ever ask of you again!”
Mrs. Davenport looked pained to explain it. She took a reluctant breath before she began. “Dr. Jones grabbed you by the shoulders…I watched as you struggled to get free from his grasp. I remembered the letter you showed me from your mother and I knew what he was capable of. I ran into the hospital just as he was shackling you to a bed by your wrists! I didn’t know what you were doing there or what he had drugged you with. You screamed at him to let you go, and when he did not...” Mrs. Davenport took another deep breath, “...I broke my cane over the back of his head. Then I pulled you out of the hospital as quickly as I could. I thought it best that no one knew we had been there that night. I got rid of my broken cane and took you home.”
Mary’s heart sank. “You took the page from the register.”
Mrs. Davenport breathed in frustration. “I meant to burn that paper, but in my haste I was only concerned about getting you back into the house unnoticed.”
No one said a word as they imagined the horror of the situation. They all looked at Mary, who was speechless. Mrs. Davenport finally broke the silence. “Well Mary, now you have something real to tell the police when you go. I certainly wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing while my daughter was being tortured by an evil man. But better me than you to go to prison for killing a man. I don’t suppose I have much time left anyway.”
Mary could not look her in the eye, still feeling uncertain about what to believe. “How did my car get back to the house?”
“I drove you here in it, Mary.”
“Then how did you get back to town?”
Mrs. Davenport scoffed. “What do you think? I walked!”