by Marie Silk
Mary gulped. “It must have been very painful without your cane,” she said, though she now wanted to forget the night she tried so hard to remember only hours ago.
“Yes it was,” Mrs. Davenport said, wincing from the memory. “Now that I have told you truth of it all, I hope that you would honor a final request from me. I would very much like to see my granddaughter. It’s the only chance I will have again.”
Mary’s lip quivered as she answered her barely above a whisper. “She’s upstairs in my room. I will show you to her.”
Fiona was astonished when Mary entered the bedroom with Mrs. Davenport. “I’ll just go downstairs for a bit,” she said quietly, handing Violet to Mary.
Mary turned the baby to face Mrs. Davenport, who seemed to be mesmerized by the sight of her.
“She looks just like you, Mary,” she said in wonder. “But what are those marks on her legs?”
Mary looked at Violet and frowned. “They’ve been there for awhile. I wasn’t sure what it was but she seems to be fine.”
“Now this is just how you were as an infant. Those are bruises that have never healed. You must take her to the specialists in Philadelphia. If they diagnose her in time, it could save her life.”
Mary blinked back tears and nodded. She watched Mrs. Davenport walk over to the nightstand and inspect the bottles of medicine that William brought from the clinic. She held one up in the air for Mary to see. “You mustn’t take these, Mary. You are allergic.” She set the bottle on the windowsill to set it apart from the others.
Mary looked down at the floor. “Thank you,” she said humbly.
Jimmy appeared in the doorway just then. “Grandmother!” he said excitedly, running to hug her.
Mrs. Davenport patted him on the back. Showing affection was never her strong point, but Jimmy did not seem to mind.
“Are you still feeling ill?” he asked.
Mrs. Davenport glanced at Mary then back at Jimmy. “Don’t worry about me, dear. Now I have to get back to town. I might be leaving for a long while. I want you to promise to behave yourself and be respectful of your Mistress and everyone else in the house.”
“Yes Ma’am,” he said. He turned to Mary and smiled. “Now you have met my grandmother! She is the one who told me all about the house.”
Mary nodded and managed a smile. She then saw something in his eyes that brought tears to hers. She saw his resemblance to the man who was a father to her.
Mrs. Davenport left the room and descended the grand staircase for the last time. Clara took her arm and helped her down the stairs with her cane. “I’ve thought of installing an elevator someday,” Clara told her.
Abigail entered Mary’s bedroom where Mary still stood in a daze. “Are you just going to let her leave, Mary?” she asked about Mrs. Davenport. “You know that any of us would have done the same if we saw our own child being attacked.”
“I know I would have, Abigail,” Mary said, drying her eyes with a handkerchief. “I'm so confused—but I think this is the first time in my life that I've understood her as a mother.” Perhaps being a mother myself has helped me see.”
Abigail took the baby from Mary’s arms. “Go to her, Mary. Tell her how you feel.”
Mary hurried down the stairs and out the front door. “Wait! Mother!” she called.
Mrs. Davenport turned around to face her. “What is it, Mary?”
Mary wrung her hands together nervously. “There was a time when I thought you belonged in jail, but I believe now that I was mistaken. I am sorry. The police won’t hear anything from me about that night.”
“What about the rest of them?” Mrs. Davenport asked, pointing to the others with her cane.
“I think they understand that you were doing what you could to protect me,” she said quietly. “For all we know, you did save my life that night. When I found out years ago that I was not your real daughter, I was certain you never cared for me. But I see now that you have been trying to help me my whole life, in your own way, as if you were my real mother. I can’t say I agree with the way you have done things, but I would still like to hear more from you about the doctor visits from when I was younger. I think I need to know...for Violet’s sake as well as my own. Will you come back into the house for tea and we can talk about it?”
“Are you sure?”
Mary nodded. “I’m sure.” She took her mother’s arm and led her up the stairs to Davenport House.
The telephone in the library was ringing when Mary entered the house. “It might be William,” she said to Mrs. Davenport, then hurried to the telephone. “Hello?”
“Mary, thank goodness you’re home,” William’s voice said on the other end. “I telephoned as soon as I could.”
“What happened? You’ve had me worried to death!”
“The police wanted me to help with another body they found. They’re attributing both the deaths to an escaped convict in the area.”
Mary breathed in relief. “Thank goodness. William, I know that it wasn’t me who was responsible for Dr. Jones.”
“I never thought it could have been,” William answered. “I am glad you believe it for yourself.”
“When are you coming home? There is much more to the story that I’d like to tell you.”
“I’ll be home in a few hours, Mary. I spoke to the hospital director this morning and asked for a change in the contract. I will take the position under the condition that Twilight Sleep is never offered in my hospital. The director agreed to the change.”
Mary felt a wave of peace wash over her. “That’s wonderful, William.”
“I know it’s been a while since I last said this, but I think that everything is going to be all right for us.”
Mary smiled. “I think so too. I’ll see you soon.”
Clara slipped away from the house to visit Phillip Valenti and explain to him all that happened.
Phillip whistled. “There’s certainly never a dull moment in the house, is there?”
“Not as long as I’ve lived in it, at least,” she said with a laugh. Then she began to feel shy. “Phillip, I wonder if you might like to come to dinner at the house. Regularly, I mean. The trip to Pittsburgh made me realize how much I enjoy your company and—hope to see you more often.”
“I’d like to see you more often too,” he admitted.
Clara blushed and looked at the ground. “I’m glad, because I don’t want to leave just now,” she said.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, Clara. Always.” Phillip fumbled nervously in his pocket while he thought about what to say. “Do you want to see what my mother gave me to give to you?” He showed Clara the family ring.
“Goodness,” Clara said, her heart beating wildly. “Does your mother know I’m not Catholic?”
Phillip chuckled. “I told her you weren’t, but she still slipped the ring into my pocket when I wasn’t looking. I also told her that you don’t think of me that way.”
Clara stared at him quietly and hoped he would be the first to voice his feelings. She was too nervous to say anything herself. To her relief, Phillip continued, “I keep thinking about that day we spent in Pittsburgh. It felt so nice to be with you that I don’t want to send this ring back to my mother. The more I think about it, the more I hope you’ll consider wearing it and starting over with me.”
Clara covered her red face with her hands.
Phillip grew more serious. “But there is something I need to tell you before you answer. I know you’ve been betrayed in the past by men who didn’t tell you their secrets, but I won’t be one of them. Clara, you should brace yourself, because there are only four people in the world who know about this including me, and you’ll be the fifth.”
Clara nodded solemnly. “I’m listening.” Phillip told her his secret, just as he said he would, but Clara could not believe her ears. “I should get back to the house now,” she said quietly.
“All right, Clara. I understand if it’s too much to think a
bout.”
A little while later in the upstairs sitting room, Abigail joined Clara for tea while Mary and Mrs. Davenport occupied the drawing room. “Thank goodness all of that is settled!” Abigail said, sounding exasperated. “Ethan and I are heading back to the manor house now that we know everything will be all right with Mary.”
“Abigail, I’ve been meaning to thank you for helping me when I was suffering from brain fever. You’ve shown me such kindness throughout all the years since the very day we met. Sometimes I don’t know how I could have lived without you.”
Abigail beamed. “That’s the best compliment anyone has ever paid me. Thank you, Clara. I really hope that you’ll come visit us at the manor house sometime. The gardens are exquisite and the house is lovely. I think you would enjoy it.”
Clara smiled but seemed to have something pressing on her mind. “Abigail, can I ask you something? What is it like being married to a Protestant?”
Abigail stifled a giggle. “I suppose I never think of it as being married to a Protestant. I only think of it as being married to Ethan. We are very happy together and Ethan agreed to raise Patrick as Catholic.” She noticed Clara’s expression change suddenly. “What is it?”
“Phillip told me something—honestly I don’t know what to think of it. I wasn’t sure if it could be true.” She looked Abigail in the eye. “It involves Patrick.”
Abigail looked down at her lap and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She cleared her throat and spoke quietly. “Phillip is a good man. Whatever he said to you—I’m sure was the truth.”
“Then you already know what he told me.”
Abigail nodded but continued to look at her lap. “Ethan and I can’t have any children,” she confessed. “We’ve tried, but the War took everything from us. We must simply remember to keep going no matter how difficult it is at times. And we are grateful to have been blessed with a son before it became impossible for us.”
“I see,” Clara said gently. “I’m sorry that I had to ask about it, Abigail. I know it was painful for you to say these things just now.”
Abigail looked up at Clara. “Phillip must think very highly of you to have confided our situation.”
“I suppose we had a chance to bond recently on a trip to Pittsburgh.” Clara paused and smiled to remember it. “I met his parents there. The whole time I was visiting his family’s house, I thought back to when Phillip asked me to marry him years ago. I regretted that I never gave us a chance, especially now that I know what a good man and father he is. It was wonderful to feel like part of his family—but I wasn’t sure what to think when he told me about Patrick. Now that I’ve spoken to you, I remember the circumstances of those days. I still believe you are two of the most honest and faithful people that I know.”
Abigail smiled gratefully. “Thank you for saying so, Clara.”
Clara continued in a quiet voice, “And now, after everything that’s happened and after all that we’ve been through, Phillip has asked me to marry him again. Can you believe it?”
Abigail gasped. “Is that why you asked me what it’s like to be married to a Protestant?”
Clara felt her face turn pink as she nodded. “I just wondered if it could work—if Phillip could be truly happy with me, and I with him.”
“I think the two of you could be very happy indeed,” replied Abigail. “Have you answered him yet?”
“Not yet,” Clara said with a smile. “But now I know what I’m going to say!”
Abigail laughed when Clara stood up suddenly and exited the sitting room. She knew where Clara was heading.
At the Valenti’s farmhouse, Phillip was preparing lunch with the freshly cleaned cook stove. Gabriella was sitting at the table and ready to begin eating, but Donnie sat in front of the window facing the garden. “Papa, Miss Clara is coming again,” he said.
“She is?” Phillip hastily washed his hands and left the kitchen to look out the window.
“You forgot to close the firebox!” Gabriella called after him. Phillip turned back to close it but Gabriella beat him to it. “Miss Clara must have distracted you, Papa.”
“Thank you for closing it,” he said, feeling flustered and embarrassed. “I’m going to change my clothes. Tell Miss Clara that I will be out in a minute, all right?”
She nodded at him. “Are you going to wear your fancy clothes?”
“Yes, Gabriella Maria,” he said. “I’m going to wear my fancy clothes.”
The children directed Clara to the sofa while she waited. When Phillip emerged from the hallway, he was wearing his suit and had freshly combed hair. He whispered something to his children and they disappeared out the back door. “I’m glad to see you,” he said nervously to Clara.
“I’m glad to see you too. I have a question to ask you,” Clara said just as nervously.
“Sure, I’m listening,” he said.
“I might not be able to have children.”
“That wasn’t a question,” he teased. The playfulness in his voice made Clara feel at ease.
“Does it change your mind?” she asked.
“I’m not going to change my mind, Clara.” He opened his hand to reveal the family ring. “Are you going to change yours?”
Clara felt a calming presence settle upon her as she allowed him to slip the ring over her finger. She wondered if it was her mother watching proudly from above. “I’m not going to change my mind, Phillip,” she answered. “This is the most certain I’ve felt about anything in my life.”
Epilogue
Jimmy Davenport, Clara’s beloved nephew and heir, moved to an upstairs room as one of the family. Mrs. Davenport resigned from her job at the newspaper in order to spend her final days with her grandchildren. Her dying wish to be buried beside her late husband was granted by Clara Valenti, Mistress of the house. Mary, Abigail, Clara, and Serena proudly exercised their right to vote in the presidential election of 1920.
Davenport Estate flourished under the new plans. It went on to become a place of refuge when Hard Times came upon America, just as Mrs. Davenport had forewarned. Jimmy grew up to become known in the community as an honorable man who was always good to his servants…for he followed in the footsteps of the great men and women who went before him at Davenport House.
THE END
From the Author
Blessings to all who have made it with me this far! I am grateful for your time and investment in the lives of these characters who I will dearly miss, now that the series has ended. It is due to your kind support that the Davenport House series grew to be eight books long instead of only the first two. I cannot thank you enough! There were so many twists and turns that sometimes even I did not know where the story was going to go. Some of my favorite scenes were never planned, but rather came to me while I was arranging the chapters. The scene with Clara and Phillip going to Pittsburgh together is one example. The subtleties of this romance seemed to naturally weave their way into the story all along, and I hope you enjoyed how it came together in the end. I wish you well today and always.
Cordially,
Marie Silk
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