by Marie Silk
John Smith clutched his chest and held onto the back of a chair before he crumpled to the floor. “Why did you not just tell me, Son?” he cried in agony. “I was ready to die!”
Ethan could feel his heart pounding once more. “Pa, this letter—it’s not what you think it is. It’s not what you think at all.”
Chapter 4
The next afternoon, Clara went into the library where her mother was going through the accounts. “I want a motor car,” Clara declared abruptly.
Mrs. Price looked up from the ledger. She felt sorry for her daughter’s broken heart, but was not about to mention the subject. She was curious about what had happened between Clara and Phillip, as any mother would be. “Very well, Child. I am certain we can arrange the purchase of a motor car at the end of the year.”
“I do not want to wait that long. Can’t I buy one now?” Clara asked impatiently.
“Much of your income has gone to your wardrobe. There is no money now, but if you are frugal in the coming months, you should be able to buy a car.”
“When is Mary getting one?” Clara asked with a scowl.
“I expect it will be this week,” answered Mrs. Price.
“I don’t see why Mary should have a car when I have to keep waiting.”
“Miss Mary manages her money differently than you. She has been planning this purchase for some time.”
“I don’t see how I can be so poor when I have received a great inheritance. Perhaps I will sell land from the estate and buy a car with the money,” Clara suggested. “I can’t stand to be in this miserable house another second.”
“I do not think it is wise to sell now, Child. The land is what brings your income,” Mrs. Price replied.
“I am not a child, and the land is not bringing income soon enough!” Clara cried angrily, storming away from the library in a huff. Mrs. Price sat bewildered at the desk, wondering exactly what had happened between the neighbor and her daughter.
Ethan and John Smith were not at the dinner table that night, and no one had seen Clara since her outburst in the library. Abigail, Mary, and Mrs. Price dined silently. “I wonder why Ethan is not at dinner tonight?” Mary thought aloud. “Did you see him today, Abigail?”
Abigail shook her head. “I have not seen him,” she answered quietly. She had gone to the stable several times that day, but Ethan was nowhere in sight. Abigail worried now more than ever that Ethan’s father must have objected to her, and that Ethan must not want to tell her.
Mary sat quietly, thinking of William and wishing that she had an excuse to telephone the clinic and speak to him once more. She hoped that he would call at any moment to tell her that the outbreak was over and that it was safe to visit him at the clinic. Mary noticed that her heart would ache with every hour that she waited for the phone to ring. She wondered if other families who had telephones ever felt this way. The ladies retired to bed that night with much to occupy their thoughts.
Abigail walked to the stable the next morning after breakfast. When she still did not see Ethan, she took a deep breath and walked up the stairs to the apartment above. She was just about to knock when she noticed a paper held against the doorstop with a stone. She picked up the paper and read the words on the page.
Miss Mary,
My pa and I are not feeling well. It might be a few days before we return to work. I am sorry.
Ethan
Abigail suddenly felt guilty for assuming that Ethan did not want to see her. Now she was worried for his health. She took the letter back to the house to show Mary, who furrowed her brow at the message. “How strange. I do not think that either of them has taken a day off for sickness before.”
“Then, this is the first time? I hope they are alright,” remarked Abigail.
“Oh dear, what if they have the fever that William warned us about? I should telephone the clinic now.” Mary went to the library telephone and told the number to the operator. Abigail stood close by. When William’s voice responded on the other end, Mary felt her heart fall into her stomach. “I am afraid that Ethan and his father have fallen ill,” she began. “Is there anything we can do for them?”
“Mary,” William’s voice said seriously. “Is anyone else at the house sick?”
“Not one of us,” Mary answered.
William sighed in relief. “The outbreak in town has been unpredictable. Just when I think that the fevers are fading, a new batch of patients arrive. I can’t trace where it is coming from. You must see to it that Ethan and John get clean food and water. The fever here is typhoid, I am sure of it. Call me if they get any worse or if anyone else gets sick, alright Mary?” His voice was low and weary, sounding as if he had not slept in days.
“Yes, I will telephone if they become worse. I hope you find the source,” said Mary.
“So do I. Mary, I must tell you goodbye now. I see more people walking into the clinic.” And with that, their conversation was over.
Abigail heard what William had said over the telephone and began to panic. Tears ran down her cheeks as she thought about Ethan. She remembered the dreadful typhoid outbreaks in Johnstown and how many had perished from the fever. “I will deliver meals to the apartment for them,” Abigail told Mary. “They must keep eating and drinking or they will lose their strength.” Abigail then went to the kitchen to explain to Catherine.
“Typhoid!” the red-faced cook exclaimed. “It ain’t from my cooking! I ain’t no Typhoid Mary!”
“No one has suspected you of being a Typhoid Mary. I only wanted to tell you of what is happening in town before you purchase more items for the kitchen,” Abigail said gently, trying to calm the high-strung cook.
“I see. Well, as long as you know it ain’t because of me. I made the cakes you asked for today,” Catherine replied reluctantly.
“Thank you, Catherine. You have reminded me that today is a little girl’s birthday,” said Abigail. She was grateful that she had something to do that would take her mind off of her worries over Ethan. Abigail arranged the cakes in a basket and included a large pink bow for Gabriella’s hair. She did not want to mention to Clara that she was going to visit the Valentis that day. She felt badly for the poor family and hoped to bring them a small amount of cheer for Gabriella’s birthday.
After Abigail left for the Valentis’ farmhouse, Clara quietly let herself into the library. She saw the newspaper on the desk and began to browse the classifieds. She found what she was looking for.
WANTED—LAND YORK COUNTY
Paying top dollar for farmland.
Sharp Agency Phone 555-Y
Clara went to the telephone and picked up the receiver, thinking about how thrilling the first ride in her own motor car would be, once she could purchase one from the sale of her land.
Abigail knocked on the door of the Valentis’ farmhouse. She was surprised when a woman answered the door. “May I help you, Miss?” asked the woman.
“Good afternoon. I am Abigail from Davenport House. I have brought a gift for Gabriella’s birthday,” she answered.
“Miss Abigail?” called Phillip’s voice from behind the woman. He seemed amazed that Abigail was there.
Abigail smiled. “Good afternoon, Phillip.”
Phillip walked out to greet her. “Allow me to introduce my sister, Serena. She has just come from Pittsburgh to help me with the little ones while I look for work.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Serena,” said Abigail.
“I am pleased to meet you, Miss,” replied Serena quietly. “The children are just sleeping now.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” whispered Abigail. “Please take this for your family to enjoy. Goodbye, Serena, Phillip.” Abigail handed them the basket and turned to head back to Davenport House.
“Abigail, just a moment, please,” called Phillip from behind her. She turned around to face Phillip while he closed the door to the farmhouse behind him. “I am surprised to see you. I did not expect that I would see anyone from the great house again. I imagin
e that Clara has told you by now…” Abigail looked embarrassed and nodded in response. Phillip tried to smile. “It was good of you to come today with the gifts. I have not forgotten your kindness, and I am glad that you still consider us friends.”
Abigail nodded again. “Phillip?” she began quietly. “I just want to tell you that…I understand.”
He looked into her eyes hopefully. “You do?”
“I understand what families like yours and mine have gone through. My mother warned me about being public with our faith. Although, with a surname of O’Connell and ten brothers and sisters, one could hardly wonder about me.”
“Then you are Irish Catholic,” Phillip Valenti chuckled. “You and I are not supposed to get along with each other, you know.”
Abigail giggled. “It is why I did not tell you my surname when we first met. But I am not worried anymore.”
“It is good to hear you say these words,” Phillip smiled. “Thank you.”
A man riding on horseback could be seen approaching the farmhouse just then. Abigail was astonished to see a familiar face from her past. “Father Salvestro!” she exclaimed happily.
The priest was an elderly man with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. He was just as surprised to see Abigail as she was to see him. “Abigail,” Father Salvestro greeted warmly. “I nearly did not recognize you. I am happy to see you looking so well.”
Abigail blushed at his remark. She realized that she must look quite different from when he knew her last—a poor girl in a shantytown where the immigrants were known to live. The priest had been generous to Abigail’s family and would bring them bread and sometimes gifts for Christmas. Today, Abigail wore an elegant pink afternoon dress and costly pearl necklace, her hair gracefully styled above her neck. “I am doing very well,” she responded. “I have been fortunate to gain the favor of a lady who has made me her companion. Are you visiting Yorktown?”
“I have relocated. I live just down this road now,” Father Salvestro explained.
“Oh my, then we are practically neighbors! I live just to the north at Davenport House.”
“Then I hope that I may see you often. I heard that Gabriella has a birthday and I found a dress that looks to be her size,” Father Salvestro explained.
“The children are sleeping just now. I will take the dress to the house if you wish, so that you may speak with Mr. Valenti,” Abigail offered, suddenly aware that she was keeping Phillip from his guest.
“Thank you, Child,” Father Salvestro replied. Abigail took the dress from him and went to the house while Phillip stayed to talk with the priest.
“Abigail is a wonderful young lady,” Father Salvestro told Phillip. “My heart is glad to see the fine choice you have made for a wife.”
“Oh—um—Father—” Phillip stammered. “I am sorry to say that it was not Abigail who I was going to marry. It was another lady at the house, but she lately had a change of heart. There will be no wedding.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” the priest said kindly. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn.”
After she left the dress with Serena, Abigail approached Phillip and Father Salvestro to say goodbye. “I must be returning to the house now,” she said. “I hope I will see you again, Father. Goodbye, Phillip.” The two men quietly watched Abigail walk away.
A shiny black motor car that Abigail had never seen before was parked in the drive when she returned to the house. A smartly dressed man stood near the car and appeared to be looking for someone. Abigail felt awkward as she approached. The man heard her coming and turned around to face her. “Good afternoon,” he greeted, tipping his hat. “Are you Miss Clara Davenport?”
“I am not, Sir. Would you like me to announce your arrival for Clara?”
The man looked her up and down. “She told me over the telephone that she would meet me outside the house,” he replied. As he was speaking, Clara emerged through the front door.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sharp,” she greeted pleasantly. Abigail felt uncomfortable standing there, so she excused herself to go into the house.
Franklin Sharp eyed Clara like she was a bakery display. “Aren’t you a pretty lady,” he commented, winking at her.
Clara was startled by his remark. “Thank you, Sir. Would you like to have a look at the estate?”
“Don’t have to. I’ve already seen the maps. I will give you top dollar on the acreage. Eight thousand dollars for all five hundred.”
Clara covered her heart with her hand. She had never heard of so large a sum of money in all her life. She tried to appear composed but she could barely breathe at the thought of being rich so quickly. “Mr. Sharp—I did not intend on selling my entire estate. Perhaps one hundred acres for two thousand dollars.” She could hardly believe that she was negotiating with a real estate man.
“I am sorry, Miss Davenport, but that is my final offer. I have already written a Bill of Sale and have the money here in this envelope. Take it or leave it,” Franklin Sharp said confidently.
Clara felt nervous as she looked at the envelope full of money. She did not want to sell all of her land, but was worried that this may be her only chance. “I might ask my mother what she thinks before I decide.”
Franklin Sharp shrugged. “I am on my way to look at another parcel now. My offer to you only lasts as long as I stand here.”
Clara could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She suddenly felt frightened that she must make the decision now or risk losing the offer forever.
“Suit yourself,” Franklin said as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the car.
“Wait!” cried Clara. “I will agree to your price, on the condition that you assist me with the purchasing of a motor car and hiring of a chauffeur. I do not know how to do so on my own.”
Franklin Sharp grinned widely. “I can arrange it. Just need your signature here, Miss Davenport.”
After seeing Clara with the stranger outside, Abigail went up the grand staircase and knocked on Mary’s bedroom door. “Mary, there is something I must speak to you about,” she said anxiously as she walked inside.
“What is it?” Mary asked in surprise.
“Has Clara explained to you why she will not marry Phillip?”
“I don’t think she has left her room or spoken to anyone. I am worried that she is sore at me,” Mary replied. “Even though I do not know why she would be.”
“I have just seen Clara meeting with a man outside,” said Abigail.
“What man? Why wasn’t he announced?”
“I do not know who he is. He told me that Clara telephoned him and instructed that he should meet her in front of the house.”
“How curious. I was not aware that Clara had left her room. I am certain she will explain to us later. Is that all you wished to tell me?” asked Mary.
“It is not what I came to tell you at all,” Abigail sighed and sat on a chair near Mary’s bed. “Clara said that she will not marry Phillip because he is Catholic.”
Mary gasped. “No wonder she has been upset! I cannot imagine what such a revelation must have been like for her.”
Abigail looked at her sorrowfully. “But Mary…I am also Catholic.”
Mary stared in disbelief. “It cannot be possible. You are nothing like a Catholic. My mother has told me of the dreadful things they have done. You are a good person.”
“It is true that I am Catholic. Phillip is also a good person, Mary. You may not believe some of the terrible things I have heard about Protestants…but I know that you would never do such things,” replied Abigail.
Mary took a deep breath. “Does Ethan know?”
Abigail shook her head sadly. “I did not think to tell him before. Then all of this happened with Clara and Phillip, and I have been in agony over whether Ethan will still want to marry me.”
Mary walked over to put her arms around Abigail. “I am sorry that I reacted poorly just now. I can see how worried you are to tell Ethan.” Mary paused for a moment to think. �
�Do you think that he will convert?” she whispered.
“I was never going to ask him to. I love him and want to be his wife. I know that I must tell him as soon as possible, but I do not know when he will be well enough to hear what I have to say,” Abigail explained in despair.
“Perhaps I may tell him for you when he recovers. It may be easier coming from me,” offered Mary.
Abigail tried to smile. “Thank you, Mary. If he no longer wishes to marry me, then I am afraid that I might die.”
Chapter 5
The next morning after breakfast, Fiona announced Phillip Valenti’s arrival from the Hall. Mrs. Price raised her eyebrow. She was not feeling favorable toward Phillip now that he was not marrying her daughter. Mrs. Price was still unaware of the reason. She approached Phillip and looked at him sternly.
“Good morning, Madam,” he greeted nervously.
“Why have you come here? I do not believe that Clara will see you.”
“I have come to speak with Miss Mary,” he answered quietly. Mrs. Price hid her surprise and quietly walked away.
Mary met with Phillip in the drawing room. She did not know him very well and was confused why he would come to see her today. “What may I do for you, Mr. Valenti?”
“I have heard that you are needing a chauffeur,” he started. “I am looking for work and I wish to be considered for the position.”
“Oh, I see. I do not have the automobile yet. I am having trouble arranging it all because the carriage horses will be sold soon.” Mary sat thoughtfully for a moment, her mind planning a solution. “Perhaps I do have work for you. Truthfully, I feel awkward asking because of your recent falling out with my sister. I do not know any other way to accomplish it, though.”
“I am sure that I can manage whatever it is for you, Miss Mary. I plan to make myself scarce around Clara,” he mentioned.
“Wait here a moment, please.” Mary briefly left the room and returned with a paper and envelope. “I would like for you to purchase an automobile for us. Our carriage driver will take you, then you may drive the car back to the house. Here is an advertisement for the car I would like. It is the same as my friend Nellie has. I have here seven hundred dollars.” Mary was hesitant to hand such a large amount of money to someone she did not know well. Abigail had called Phillip a good man, and Mary relied on that reference while she held out the envelope. “How soon will you be able to leave?”