by Marie Silk
William was taken aback. “Um—there must be a misunderstanding. I only attend to my patients as they need medical care. If your fiance is a patient of mine, then I cannot be expected to neglect my duty.”
The man laughed incredulously. “She is no patient. You’ve been seen at her house, coming and going on several occasions. I have come to tell you to stop. I require her reputation to be intact.”
“This has to be a mistake. I do not know who your fiance is,” William answered flustered. “I only make house calls when there is a medical need.”
“Then I trust you have no reason to return to Davenport House. Mary Davenport and I are engaged to be married, and we intend to seal our union as soon as she is out of mourning. Good day, Doctor.” The man turned to leave the clinic. William was speechless and felt his chest tightening until he could hardly breath. His head was spinning as he clutched the cold handrail of the spiral staircase. He took each heavy step to his apartment above the clinic where he collapsed in his bed, rethinking all that he thought he knew.
Mary and Mrs. Davenport were the only ones in the dining room that night. Mrs. Davenport seemed to be eating heartily, but Mary stared blankly at her own plate, which remained as full as it was when it left the kitchen.
“Honestly, Mary, did you really think that I would poison you?” Mrs. Davenport asked suddenly. “It was I who took you in as an orphan and gave you this grand life. How could you think that I did not care for you?”
Mary could feel her heart sinking into her stomach. She had suspected Mrs. Davenport of attempting to poison her only months ago, but now Mary did not know what to think. Instead of answering the question, Mary asked one of her own. “If you cared for me, then how could you give the trustee those papers that leave me penniless?”
“Oh, do not be sore about that, Mary. You will have it all back eventually. When I am dead,” Mrs. Davenport added. “I could not stand idly by and watch the estate be mismanaged into ruin. The first thing you did was give half of it away to that stupid maid. Your spending has been frivolous ever since. You must imagine how difficult it was for me to see all of my years of hard work slowly come apart.”
Mary did not know how to argue with that. It was true that she had struggled with the finances ever since she became Mistress of Davenport House. “I was only doing what I thought Father would have wanted,” she replied honestly.
“He was never good with these decisions, either. But let us not think back about unpleasant things. I am going to change the subject to something more cheerful. It is time for you to be married. I have already arranged a match for you, and you may plan your wedding as elaborate as you wish.”
Mary looked up in disbelief. “You have arranged a match for me? Who?”
“Charles Squire. The Squire family estate is grand indeed. I am certain that you will like the house,” Mrs. Davenport stated confidently. “Do not look at me so hopelessly, Mary. Trust me that it is for the best. You and I are not so different, you know. We both may have turned our affections toward the town doctor, but let’s face it, a doctor’s wages cannot support ladies like us. We must be realistic.”
“You still speak of me as if I was your daughter,” Mary said in a low voice. “Yet you have taken steps to prove to Mr. Morgan that I am not.”
“That is only to Mr. Morgan. As far as society is concerned, I will still treat you as my daughter. You are fortunate. Not many orphans could dream of such a life.”
“I cannot imagine marrying a man who I do not even know,” Mary stated bluntly.
“You will have to trust me that it is better this way. Marrying for love might seem romantic at your age, but it can cause you more heartache than marrying a stranger. I hope that you never know the pain of loving a man who does not return your affection.”
Mary looked at her skeptically. “Do you mean to say that you truly loved Father?”
“Of course I did,” Mrs. Davenport snapped. “How could you question it? You cannot know what I suffered, being forced to live with his former lover, when he never cared for me as much as he did her. I used to be optimistic like you, Mary. Life has hardened me forever to the notion of marrying for love. You will thank me someday for arranging your marriage into the Squire family. It was no easy feat, and I am certain that even your father would be impressed.”
Mary wondered how much Mrs. Davenport knew. “But, who are my real parents?”
“Do not bother yourself with unpleasant things, Mary. I suspect that your mother was a working girl who needed to rid herself of a child in order to resume—that way of life. Lord only knows who your father may have been. I doubt that your mother would have been particular in her customers. I did not ask questions when I took you in, and I chose to turn a blind eye to the circumstances of your birth. Let us not worry about the details and we will continue to live as if you have always been a Davenport. You can thank me by entering gracefully into the marriage that I have arranged for you. It will benefit both of our families. No one need ever hear of the kind of woman your mother really was.”
Mary was seething as she jumped from her seat. “Do not dare speak about my mother again!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I do not want to be your daughter! Ever!” Mary stormed away, blinded by her tears and rage. Mrs. Davenport calmly ate her meal as if nothing had happened at all.
It was late that night when Mrs. Price arrived at Wilkes’ Boarding House in Lancaster. It was run by a widow called Mrs. Wilkes, and had several modest yet comfortable guest rooms. Mrs. Wilkes showed Mrs. Price to a small bedroom in the attic with only the flame of a candle to light the way. Mrs. Price was well prepared for living away from Davenport House. When Margaret Davenport was the Mistress, Mrs. Price always felt that her days as housekeeper were numbered. She saved the bulk of her wages for an occasion such as this. She settled into the room and changed into her nightclothes and bonnet. She then squinted her eyes in the dimly lit room to read the listings on the newspaper she brought with her. A great house in Lancaster was in want of a housekeeper. Mrs. Price planned to respond to the listing the next day.
In the servants’ lobby of Davenport House, the maids discussed the new arrangements and changes that would take place with Mrs. Davenport living in the house again. Fiona felt uncomfortable whenever Clara’s driver Stuart lurked near the maids. He would speak to them in a familiar way and called each of them “sweetheart”. He would also stand very close to them or intentionally brush against them in the hallways. Fiona did not feel like she had the authority to ask him to leave, but she did not want him to bother the maids, either. It was unheard of for a young female servant to have leadership over a male servant, so Fiona kept silent. After the staff meeting, Bridget followed Fiona into her bedroom. “I do not like that new chauffeur,” Bridget whispered. “The way he looks at me makes me feel ill.”
Fiona sighed. “I feel the same way about him. I have noticed that I feel relieved every time Miss Clara must order the car, for I know it means we will be rid of him for the day. With all of the changes in the house, I do not know if Miss Clara will need him so much anymore. I hope that Mrs. Davenport requires Stuart to drive her often. I do not like him living in the servants’ quarters with us while Mrs. Price is gone.”
Chapter 9
Abigail visited Mary’s bedroom the next morning. Mary told Abigail about her exchange with Mrs. Davenport the night before. The two girls opted to have their breakfast upstairs that day. “Mary, I have spoken with Ethan about your mother—um, Mrs. Davenport’s—return. Ethan’s father has kindly offered to let us move into their apartment with them. Ethan will give up his room for you and I to share.”
Mary’s eyes grew wide. “But there is not room for all four of us in such a small space,” she said in concern.
Abigail giggled. “I have lived in such a space with my family of thirteen. It is possible, Mary. Trust me.”
“Where will we put all of our things?” asked Mary.
“Perhaps you may pick out on
ly your favorite clothes to bring. You have not worn most of your dresses since you began mourning.”
Mary sighed. “I suppose it is improper for me to be in mourning for my father now, when my true father is alive. It must be bad luck for me to continue wearing black.”
“Whatever you decide, I am sure it will be the right decision. I only wanted to tell you of a chance to live away from the house. I know it is difficult with Mrs. Davenport staying,” Abigail offered gently.
Bridget brought in breakfast trays for Mary and Abigail. “Miss Mary,” she said. “The Mistress instructed me to tell you that Mr. Charles Squire will be arriving in the afternoon, and that you should be ready to be presented.”
“Thank you, Bridget,” Mary answered, sounding distressed.
After Bridget left the room, Abigail asked Mary, “Who is Charles Squire?”
Tears were forming in Mary’s eyes. “No one important. Come, help me choose which clothes to bring when I move in with my true family.”
Mrs. Price was seated at the breakfast table at Wilkes’ Boarding House. She felt a familiar sensation when the door to the kitchen was opened and the aroma filled the dining room. Mrs. Price was certain that she recognized the cooking. After breakfast, she excused herself from the table and asked if she might compliment the cook. Mrs. Wilkes was pleased to oblige and allowed Mrs. Price entry into the kitchen.
“Mrs. Malone?” called Mrs. Price as she entered the kitchen.
“Dorothy Price!” cried the former cook of Davenport House. “Good gracious, I never thought I would see anyone from the house again. Have you come to find me?”
“I had no idea that you would be here. I am staying as a guest until I find a new position. I am no longer employed by Davenport House,” she answered.
“What has happened?” asked Mrs. Malone. “The last I heard, you had gotten a promotion.”
“I had. But the former Mistress has returned and I cannot stay in the house any longer. She has arranged for Miss Mary to lose every penny of her inheritance!”
Mrs. Malone’s face turned red with anger. “How did that dreadful woman get out of jail?”
Mrs. Price was surprised at this reaction. “The evidence against her was apparently insufficient. Mrs. Davenport is now thought to be innocent.”
Mrs. Malone yanked off her apron and slammed it down on the butcher block table. “That woman doesn’t have an innocent bone in her body! She insisted that she be the one to take the Master his tea the last week I was employed at the house. I don’t know what she had going with that doctor, but they put something in the Master’s drink. I am sure of it!”
Mrs. Price’s eyes grew wide. “Then she did have a hand in poisoning him. Oh, Heavens! I have left my daughter and Miss Mary alone with that dangerous woman! What have I done?” Mrs. Price was frantic and looked as though she would leave for Davenport House that very minute.
“Wait!” cried Mrs. Malone. “Dorothy, before you go—I have something to show you. You might not like that I took it from the Master’s library. Just try to understand that I did it to protect Miss Mary. If she has already lost the house, then there is no need for me to conceal it any longer.”
Ethan helped Abigail and Mary move their things into his home above the stable. The ceiling was sharply slanted on one side of the small room. “I’m sorry it is not what you’re used to, Miss Mary,” Ethan said quietly.
Mary looked at him endearingly. “I do not think there is any need for you to address me that way anymore. I am your sister, and I am grateful to you for giving up your room for us.”
Ethan smiled sympathetically in response, then left the room so that Abigail and Mary could settle in. After he left the room, Mary whispered, “There is only one bed. I do not know how we will manage!”
Abigail giggled at her. “I once shared a bed this size with six of my siblings.”
Mary looked aghast. “How?”
“Well, three would lie here,” Abigail said as she pointed to the bed. “The other three would lie here, and I was in the middle. The trick was to lie very still and try not to fall off the bed.”
“I cannot tell if you are teasing me!” Mary exclaimed.
Abigail laughed. “It is the honest truth, Mary. Many people live like this, you know. The families who have grand houses like yours are the exception.”
Mary felt embarrassed. “I suppose I never thought of it. Please be patient with me while I do my best to adjust. It is a very different life for certain.”
“Of course, Mary,” Abigail replied. “Ethan said that he will cook for us tonight. You and I can make tomorrow’s dinner.”
Mary’s eyes grew wide. “Then you will have to be patient with me in the kitchen as well. I have never been in one before.” She sighed. “There is one thing I must do before I leave my house for good. In the past, I have encouraged William to visit as often as he could. I cannot receive him at the house now.”
Mary walked carefully into the grand library, looking around to make sure that no one saw her. She hoped that she would not run into Mrs. Davenport that day. She only wanted to telephone William before she began her new life above the stable. When William answered the phone, Mary suddenly felt awkward about what she had to say. “William? I have telephoned you to inform you that…my circumstances have changed,” she said hesitantly. She could hear William sigh into the phone.
“I know, Mary,” he replied.
“You do?” she asked in surprise. Mary was astonished and dismayed that word had already reached William about her lost inheritance.
“Yes—and I wish you the best,” he answered. It sounded as though the words pained him to speak.
“I am afraid that I cannot receive you at the house anymore, but I will still come to town to visit you,” she assured him.
“I am sorry, but I must be off the telephone now. It appears there has been another outbreak and new patients have just arrived. I wish you joy in your new life, and please be careful about coming into town. Goodbye, Mary.”
Mary could feel her heart sinking as she slowly replaced the receiver. William’s voice sounded as though he could not wait to be off the telephone with her. Mary suddenly realized that she must not be desirable anymore, now that she was poor and living like a servant. She sorrowfully left the library and walked away from the house, thinking that it would be for the last time.
Mrs. Squire and her son Charles arrived to Davenport House that afternoon as expected. Mrs. Davenport greeted them warmly in the Hall, then proceeded to take them on a tour throughout the house. Fiona set out tea in the drawing room after the tour. She stood by with Bridget as Mrs. Davenport, Charles Squire, and Mrs. Squire, were seated in the drawing room.
“There are one thousand acres total, with lovely woodlands and fields,” Mrs. Davenport was saying. “I assume that your son has found the library to his satisfaction. There are many rare and expensive books within the shelves.”
Charles Squire nodded then looked at his mother. “And where is the girl?” asked Mrs. Squire, seemingly bored.
Mrs. Davenport smiled. “Bridget, please summon Mary to the drawing room. Mrs. Squire, she is no longer a girl, but has blossomed into a beautiful woman since you saw her last. I am sure that Mary will meet with your enthusiastic approval.”
Bridget returned to the drawing room without Mary. “Forgive me, Madam, but I cannot find Miss Mary,” she reported nervously.
Mrs. Squire raised her eyebrow at Mrs. Davenport. “Remember our bargain, Margaret. If your daughter is not agreeable to this arrangement, we will not help you with the funds.”
“Oh, I am afraid there was only a miscommunication in our schedules today,” Mrs. Davenport said with a smile. “My daughter is honored to become part of your family.”
After the Squires left the house, Bridget whispered to Fiona on their way to the servants’ stairs. “I do not understand. The Mistress expressed that she intends to buy the house when it goes to auction. But when the Squires were here, she s
howed them the house as if she intends to sell it to them.”
Fiona sighed heavily. “I do not think it is the house that the Mistress intends to sell,” she replied. “Mrs. Davenport appears to be trading her daughter in marriage for the means to buy the house now, with the understanding that it will eventually belong to the Squires. I have heard that important families make these arrangements with their children.”
“But Miss Mary loves Dr. Hamilton!” Bridget protested. “I cannot believe that she will agree to this.”
“Perhaps it is why she was absent today,” Fiona replied. “None of us can be certain of what the future holds for us now.”
Mary and Abigail were settled into their new home. “Something is bothering me, Abigail. I telephoned William, and he has said that there is another fever outbreak in town. We should stay away for the time being. Somehow, William has already heard that I have lost the house. He said that he wished me well, but I had the feeling that he was uncomfortable speaking to me.”
“It is difficult to tell what a person is feeling when you cannot observe them in person,” reminded Abigail. “Perhaps he was only worried about the outbreak, and that is why you detected discomfort in his voice.”
Mary thought for a moment. “I hope that was it. But I cannot let go of the feeling that it was something else.”
“Ethan tells me that dinner will soon be ready,” Abigail said to Mary, hoping to take her mind off worries about William.
“Oh, thank you,” Mary said, looking up from the book she was holding. “What will you wear to dinner tonight?”
“I had not planned to change. I will wear what I am wearing now,” answered Abigail. “Our dinners here will not be the formal ones you are used to.”
Mary smiled. “Perhaps it is a relief that I need not dress differently for dinner. It does get tiring changing clothes all day long.”
Mary and Abigail sat at the small table with Ethan and John Smith. Each had a bowl of stew in front of them. Mary could find carrots and potatoes in the broth, but wondered if Ethan had forgotten to add the meat. She did not want to mention it and appear ungrateful. It was a different life than she was raised in, but the feeling of tranquility that settled upon the dining area was a feeling that she was glad to become used to.