by Marie Silk
Chapter 3
The next morning at breakfast, Mary, Abigail, and Mrs. Price were at the dining table. “There is good news for you, Miss Mary,” Mrs. Price began. “We have a buyer for the carriage horses. I have already informed Ethan, and he will ready the horses for the buyer next week.”
“Wonderful, Mrs. Price. Have you informed Peter Ross of the change?” asked Mary.
“I have, Miss Mary. I offered him a months’ wages while he looks for new work,” she answered.
“I hope he does well. This is the difficult part about being owner of a house. I wish we never needed to let a servant go,” Mary said.
“You are kind to even think of a servants’ plight, Mary,” Abigail mentioned. “I am not sure that many Mistresses would think much of sending a servant away.”
“Please tell your fiance that he need not worry about being next,” Mary said playfully. “I would die if I did not have my horses. Dolly means as much to me as any person. I could not bear to be without her.”
“I am sure that Ethan will be glad to hear it. I plan to speak with him today,” said Abigail, looking at Mary.
“I hope all goes well,” Mary answered kindly.
“Post for you, Miss Mary,” announced Fiona, presenting a letter on a silver tray.
“It is from William,” Mary said excitedly. She opened the letter and began to read. “Oh dear. He writes that I should not come to the clinic due to an outbreak of fever.” Mary frowned. “I hope William does not catch it. Now I will be worried for him even more than usual.”
Abigail looked at Mary compassionately. “I am sorry for your disappointment, Mary. Perhaps it was a good thing that Clara needed the carriage today for the dressmaker. If you and I had gone to Yorktown as we planned, we may have missed William’s letter warning us not to visit the clinic.”
Mary sighed heavily. “Yes, I suppose it may have worked out for the better. William mentioned before that his telephone would be installed this week. I hope that he rings soon so that I may speak to him, since I cannot visit him in person. I think I will be in the library today to catch up on my reading. That way I will be near the telephone if William does ring.”
After breakfast, Abigail went to the stable to visit Ethan. She was surprised to see the carriage horses grazing in the pasture. “I thought that Clara had already left to Philadelphia,” she remarked confused.
“Peter Ross had the carriage ready for hours but Clara did not come out. We just let the horses in the pasture until she is ready to leave,” answered Ethan. He went to get a saddle for Amethyst, the horse that Abigail preferred to ride above the others.
“Wait…Ethan…I did not come to ride. I want to speak with you,” said Abigail timidly.
“What is it?” he asked in concern.
“I wonder if we should be planning what we will do for our wedding.”
“Oh,” said Ethan, looking down at the floor. “I am saving my wages so that I can buy a proper house for you. I do not know how long it will take.”
Abigail took his hand and looked into his eyes. “I am grateful to you, Ethan. But does this mean that you do not want to be married until a house can be bought?”
He gently put his arms around her. “I want to marry you now,” he whispered. “I did not want to ask a fine lady like you to live in a stable with me.”
Abigail sighed in relief. “Is that all it is? I am happy to live with you, if your father is agreeable to my staying here.”
“Are you certain, Abigail?” asked Ethan. “Why don’t I show you the apartment again. My pa is up there now. You should take a good look before you decide.”
They walked upstairs to the modest apartment. It was equipped with a small kitchen, small sitting room, bathroom, and two bedrooms. The ceilings were very low on the both sides where the A-framed roof slanted down. John Smith was asleep on one of the chairs in the sitting room. Ethan and Abigail tried to be quiet so they did not wake him. Ethan showed Abigail his bedroom from the doorway. There was a bed and a small chest of drawers. “Do you sleep on your bed or on the floor?” Abigail asked him with a giggle. She had found him sleeping on the floor once before in one of the most embarrassing moments of her life.
Ethan smiled and chuckled. “I do sleep on the floor. The bed is too soft for me. You might get the bed all to yourself.”
“I hope not,” Abigail said, then began to blush. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.” She covered her cheeks with her hands.
Ethan put his hands around her waist. He looked into her eyes intently, then looked toward her lips. Abigail held her breath in anticipation as he slowly leaned into her.
“Son?” interrupted the voice of John Smith. Both Ethan and Abigail jumped.
“I was just showing Abigail the apartment, Pa,” Ethan explained sheepishly. Abigail knew that her face was now redder than ever, but she thought it might be worse to cover it with her hands now.
“Good afternoon, Young Lady,” John Smith greeted.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith,” she replied. Ethan and Abigail seated themselves on the chairs in the sitting room.
“It is not as grand as Davenport House,” remarked John Smith. “But it suits us just fine.”
“It is a lovely apartment, Mr. Smith. I have shared a home this size with my ten brothers and sisters, so any home feels spacious after that.”
“You have ten brothers and sisters?” Ethan asked incredulously.
“I do. They live in Johnstown with my father. They are younger than I am,” explained Abigail.
“I don’t know what it is like to be crowded like that since I am an only child. I cannot imagine living with so many,” replied Ethan. John Smith abruptly stood up from his seat and went out the door.
Abigail looked at Ethan in dismay. “I hope I have not upset him,” she said worriedly.
“I do not see how you could have,” replied Ethan.
“Perhaps he does not want me to live here. I should have waited for you to ask him before I said anything,” suggested Abigail.
“I will talk to him, Abigail. I cannot imagine that is the reason. Pa is very fond of you. Do not worry,” Ethan said, holding her hand in his. “Everything will be alright.”
Mary was reading in the library when the room was suddenly filled with a loud ringing sound that startled her out of her chair. She picked herself off the floor while the ringing continued. She laughed when she realized what the sound was—the house’s first telephone ring since it had been installed. Mary awkwardly took the receiver in her hand and held it to her ear, hoping that she was doing it correctly. Then she realized that she did not know what to say.
“Davenport—House,” she stammered.
“Mary?” asked a familiar voice through the receiver.
“William! Good afternoon!” she greeted cheerfully. Her heart was racing at the sound of his voice.
“Good afternoon. Did you receive my message about avoiding the clinic?” William asked quickly.
“Yes, I received it just this morning. Are you alright?” asked Mary.
“I am alright. Is anyone at the house ill?”
“No, we are well,” Mary answered. She could hear William sighing in relief.
“I am glad to hear it. There is an outbreak in town. It looks like typhoid, but I have yet to determine the source. You should stay at the house until we get it contained, just in case.”
“We will. Thank you for warning us,” Mary answered.
“I look forward to seeing you again,” William said quietly.
“I look forward to it as well,” Mary replied.
“Goodbye, Mary”
“Goodbye, William.” Mary placed the receiver back in its cradle and could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was a thrilling sensation to hear the voice of the man she loved, even if she could not see him face to face. Mary’s expression was set in a smile for a long while afterward.
Abigail returned to the house, still worried that Ethan’s father did not want
her to live in the apartment. She walked up the grand staircase and observed one of the housemaids on the landing. “Bridget,” began Abigail. “Have you seen Clara today?”
“She is in her room, Miss Abigail,” replied Bridget. “She asked for her meals to be sent there for the rest of the day.”
“I see. Thank you, Bridget,” Abigail said politely. Bridget left for the servants’ stairs and Abigail stood awkwardly on the upstairs landing, wondering if she should check on Clara. Clara’s room was on the opposite side of the house from the other family bedrooms. Abigail took a deep breath and went to the staircase on the right, then down the long hallway to Clara’s bedroom. She knocked on the door.
“Come in,” called Clara in a distressed voice.
Abigail walked in to find Clara still in bed wearing her nightclothes. “Clara, are you ill?” she asked in concern.
Clara shook her head. “I just don’t want to see anyone,” she scowled.
“Oh, I am sorry. I will go,” Abigail apologized and turned for the door.
Clara began to cry loudly. “The wedding is off! I don’t want to face the others to tell them,” she spoke between sobs.
“Oh, Clara,” Abigail said compassionately. She gave Clara a handkerchief, then sat on a chair close to the bed. “I am terribly sorry. Has something happened? You do not need to tell me if you do not wish to.”
“Phillip came to the house last night to tell me that he is part of the Roman Catholic Church! Can you believe it?” Clara asked incredulously. When Abigail did not seem to react, Clara continued, “You do not look as surprised as I was.”
“Um—well, his family comes from Italy,” Abigail stammered.
“We cannot be married unless one of us converts,” Clara went on. “If he really loved me, he would convert, but he refuses. Our wedding can never happen.”
“I am sorry for your disappointment,” Abigail said softly. “Is there anything that I can do?”
“Just tell the others so that I do not have to. I am frightened to see my mother’s face when she finds out that I was engaged to a Catholic all this while.”
“I will tell them,” Abigail promised. She went out the door and could feel her heart sinking in her stomach. She felt badly for Phillip Valenti being rejected for the second time. It was not so long ago that Phillip had asked Abigail to marry him, but she declined because she was in love with Ethan. Her heart now ached for the young children who believed that they would have a new mother when Clara married into the family. Abigail wondered how Phillip would tell the children. She was not sure how she would tell the others in the house.
John Smith was not at the dinner table that night. Abigail became increasingly worried that he must be upset with her. Ethan gave her hand a gentle squeeze under the table to reassure her that everything was alright. Mary excitedly described her first telephone call with William. The others were quiet throughout the meal.
“Mrs. Price, did Clara say if she would be staying overnight in Philadelphia?” asked Mary curiously.
“She did not tell me, Miss Mary,” Mrs. Price answered.
“Um…Clara did not go to Philadelphia,” Abigail stated nervously.
“What do you mean? Where has she been all day?” asked Mary. Mrs. Price also looked on in surprise.
Abigail cleared her throat. “Clara is in her room.”
“She is not ill, is she?” asked Mary. “William has said that people are coming to the clinic with typhoid fever.” Mrs. Price held her hand over her heart when Mary mentioned it.
“Clara is not ill,” Abigail replied quickly to save Mrs. Price the worry. Abigail took a deep breath before she continued. “She has called off the wedding and does not wish to see anyone.”
The room was quiet as Mrs. Price and Mary looked at Abigail in shock. “Did she say why?” Mary finally asked.
Abigail looked down at her plate. She was terribly uncomfortable having to relay this information, but she had promised Clara. “They had a dispute, and have decided not to marry,” she explained quietly, hoping that she would not be asked any more questions. She felt Ethan squeeze her hand again and she did not know if it made her feel better or worse.
“Has the buyer asked anything more about the carriage horses before they decide, Mrs. Price?” Ethan asked, changing the subject.
“They seem certain of the sale. Only, they need a week before they will have the funds,” she answered him. “We are still able to purchase the automobile for the house while we are waiting.” Mrs. Price was distracted by the revelation about Clara’s broken engagement. Much to Abigail’s relief, no one said another word about Clara and Phillip Valenti at dinner that night.
Ethan had promised Abigail that he would talk to his father after dinner. He went to the apartment above the stable and seated himself across from where his father sat in silence. “Pa? Is everything alright?” he asked.
“I’m afraid not, Son,” answered John Smith.
“Abigail is worried that you might not want her to live in the apartment with us. Is that what is bothering you?” Ethan questioned nervously.
“Abigail is a fine young lady. I’ve thought so since the first time I saw her. I would not mind one bit if she lived here, if it is what you and she want,” he answered solemnly.
“She will be relieved to hear it, then. The thing is, you seemed upset when we spoke of the living arrangement earlier. Will you tell me what is wrong?” Ethan asked. His father was usually quiet and did not give much information. Ethan got used to him sometimes never answering at all.
“It was because of what you said about not having any brothers or sisters,” John Smith said quietly, feeling tears forming in his eyes. “Your ma always wanted a big family.”
“Oh. I am sorry about that, Pa. I know you would have if it were possible,” Ethan replied.
“You were not the only child,” John Smith said with a shaky voice.
Ethan looked straight ahead at his father in stunned silence. When Ethan found his voice, he asked, “Do you mean that I have brothers and sisters that I don’t know about?”
“You would, if not for my mistakes. I messed up bad, Son…before you were ever born. I lost my job and moved with your ma to Philadelphia. I got a job working for some men there. They were bad men, but I turned a blind eye to it because I needed the wages. I got arrested one night when your ma was near ready to deliver our first child. I left her with no money or food. It was all my fault.” Tears were now falling down his anguished face. “When she told me she lost the baby after that, I knew it was because of me. I should have been there to help. I spent the rest of my time with your ma trying to make up for it. But how could I make up for the loss of a child?” He buried his face in his hands as Ethan looked on silently.
“I’m sorry, Pa. I don’t know much about women and childbirth. But I’ve seen enough foals delivered to know that sometimes, there is nothing you can do. It is nobody’s fault,” Ethan said sadly.
“It was my fault. Your ma’s death was, too. I failed bad. The doctor kept saying he was too busy with other sick folks, but I should have hog-tied him and brought him to the house that is what it took. Sometimes now, I don’t even want to live anymore. When the old stable caught fire, I almost hoped it would take me with it. If you had not come to help me, I would have laid down right there in the fire and let the memories die with me. But I keep living for you. There is nothing else that keeps me going on this earth.”
Ethan was holding back his own tears. He did not know if there was anything he could say that might alleviate his father’s sorrow. “You did everything you could, I am sure.”
John Smith sighed heavily. “Now I have told you everything, Son. There is something more I must show you.” He kneeled to the floor in front of Maryanne’s hope chest and lifted the heavy wooden lid. He carefully moved the items around inside, then reached to the very bottom. “Your ma wrote me a letter on that day. She said I should hear what it says someday after you were grown. I have been sca
red all these years of what it might tell me. I watched her cry as she wrote it. I already know she blames me for not bringing the doctor quick enough. I know everything was my fault. I kept her last words tucked away, figuring they must be real bad if she couldn’t just tell me herself. She knew that I couldn’t read or write. Maybe she thought I would learn someday.” He solemnly handed Ethan a folded paper with writing on both sides.
“You want me to read it to you now, Pa?” Ethan asked uncertainly. He had not seen his father this distressed before, and he certainly did not want to make it worse.
John Smith took a deep breath and lowered himself onto the chair across from Ethan. “I think it’s time I hear what she says. That night the old stable caught fire, I was afraid her words to me would get lost forever. Perhaps I should not have waited this long. Just read it to me and keep reading, no matter how bad it gets. I deserve what she says about me.”
Ethan unfolded the letter and began to skim the page. He suddenly felt the hair on his neck standing up and chills running down his back and arms. Ethan abruptly turned the letter to see the other side. The color drained from his face as he continued to read in silence. He felt as though time had stopped, and he could not be sure if he was even breathing.
“What is it?” his father pleaded in an anguished voice. “I knew it must be bad! I knew I never deserved her love!”
Ethan did not hear anything his father said. The words on the page blurred together in front of his eyes. He was in another time and another place, in a world where their lives could never be the same. He finally snapped out of it to the cries of his father, who was now weeping uncontrollably as he stood up to leave the room. “Pa, wait!” Ethan told him quickly. “Ma never blamed you—it was never your fault! She didn’t want you to feel bad for any of it!”