by Marie Silk
Back at Davenport House, Clara was gazing sorrowfully at the black uniform she used to wear when she worked as a maid. Her future suddenly seemed grimmer than it ever had in the past. She was sure that Mary must hate her, and Clara could not blame her for it. She wished that she could tell Mary how sorry she was, but she could not find her in the house all day, and was worried she would run into Mrs. Davenport if she looked further. Clara looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror, wondering what she had become. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her bedroom door.
“Mother!” Clara exclaimed in surprise. She was overcome with emotion and threw her arms around her mother.
“I am here, Child. Everything is going to be alright,” Mrs. Price consoled her. She still wore her hat and carried her traveling case as if she had just come through the front door.
“I regretted that I did not go with you, Mother. I feel like a prisoner here,” Clara cried. “Please tell me that you have come to take me away from this house.”
“I have not come to take you away. I have come to tell you that from this day forward, Davenport House belongs to you, and no one else.”
Clara looked skeptically at her mother. “I don’t understand. Has the trustee found a way for me to inherit?”
“Your father found a way for you to inherit,” Mrs. Price replied, handing Clara a document. “This is a petition to the Court of the Common Plea. Your father asked the court for permission to adopt you before he died. You had been made a legitimate child and heiress, only we did not know it,” Mrs. Price explained with tears in her eyes.
Clara gasped. “Where did you find this?”
“It is a long story, Child. But there is more. The Will of your father’s that was never found—Mrs. Malone has kept it with her all this while.”
“Why would she do such a thing?” asked Clara.
“Your father left you everything, Clara. Mrs. Malone believed that she protected Miss Mary by keeping the Master’s intentions hidden. I have seen the Will, and I left it with the trustee today. I also showed him this petition to the court. Mr. Morgan has confirmed it for his records. You never need worry about your place in this house again.”
Clara sat down on her bed in disbelief. “But Mother, this is dreadful. What about Mary? She will be devastated to hear this. She loved Father so dearly and will be hurt that he did not recognize her.”
“That is why Mrs. Malone kept the documents. She was afraid that Miss Mary would not receive her rightful inheritance. I am at a loss to explain it myself, especially after the Master told me that he would leave all to her. I do not know what changed his mind, but it is clear now that this is what your father wished. He must have had his reasons.”
Clara sighed. “I still feel for Mary. I wish that I could rejoice at this news you have given me tonight, but I do not know how I can be happy when Mary has lost everything. She was good to me when I never deserved it.”
Mrs. Price felt a wave of emotions wash over her and placed her hand over her heart. “Never have I been so proud of you as I am in this moment, Child. I know you will do what is right. Now…there is something further that I must do. Goodnight, Clara.”
Mrs. Price then went to the door of Mrs. Davenport’s bedroom. She swung the door open without knocking. “What is the meaning of this?” cried Mrs. Davenport from her bed. “Why have you returned? I will have you thrown out!”
“It is too late for your threats now, Margaret. The Master’s Will and petition to adopt Clara have reached the trustee. Everything now belongs to my daughter—and you are trespassing,” Mrs. Price said sternly.
“You are lying. No one could possibly have found his Will,” Mrs. Davenport sneered. “I searched the house from top to bottom and never found a thing.”
“It is because Mrs. Malone has had it in her possession all this while. She was displeased to hear that you have been released from jail, and has gone to the police with further testimony against you.”
The color drained from Mrs. Davenport’s face. “What has she said? It is only lies, I am sure.”
“That will be for the judge to decide. For now, I suggest that you run. You may not get far before you are made to pay for your crimes, but do not think that you will hide in my daughter’s house another moment.”
Mrs. Davenport began to pack her things into a traveling case. Mrs. Price left the room, feeling as though the heavy weight she carried for twenty-five years had vanished from her shoulders once and for all.
Chapter 10
Before breakfast the next morning, Clara went to the stable. “Ethan?” she called. She could see that he was opening the stalls to take the horses out to the pasture.
“Clara? What is it?” he asked.
“We cannot find Mary or Abigail. I wondered if you knew where they might be,” Clara answered worriedly.
“Oh,” he nodded. “They have moved in with me and Pa. They could not be around the Mistress any longer.”
“I see,” said Clara. “I really must speak with them. Are they in the apartment now?”
Ethan nodded in response. Clara went up the stairs behind the stable. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Mary answered the door and was surprised to see Clara there.
“Mary, I know what you must think of me,” began Clara. “I am terribly sorry for the trouble I have caused. I hope that someday you can forgive me. Have you truly left the house to live in this apartment?”
Mary nodded. “I could not stay in the house any longer. Mother tried to force me into a marriage.”
“I did not realize, Mary. I can assure you that Mrs. Davenport will not bother you at the house any longer. She has left the house for good.”
Mary raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How did you manage that?”
Clara was nervous as she continued. “Something has happened. The last Will that Father wrote has been found.” Clara looked at the floor. “He left everything to me. We discovered a document that proved he did adopt me through the court.”
Mary tried to hide her disappointment. “I—am happy for you, Clara.”
“Come back to the house, Mary. I want it to be your home as much as it is mine. Please, come live with me as my sister again. Abigail is welcome too, of course,” Clara offered sincerely.
Mary sighed. “Thank you, Clara. I will tell Abigail. I have much to tell you about…my family.”
Clara looked hopeful. “Does this mean you will come back to the house?”
Mary nodded. “I would be honored,” she replied. In the back of her mind, she could not understand why the man who she was raised to call Father would not have adopted her as well.
Mary and Abigail moved back into the house, and everyone hoped for a sense of normalcy to someday settle upon it. Mary felt awkward knowing that she was no longer in a position to give orders, and she became aware that her position in the house was at the mercy of Clara. It was a difficult adjustment the first several days, but Mary soon felt relief in knowing that the responsibility of the estate was no longer on her shoulders. Clara had kindly arranged for Mary to receive an income from the estate, as well as ownership of her favorite horse Dolly and the automobile that Mary had purchased. A sense of peace was felt over the house now that Mrs. Davenport had not been seen or heard from.
Clara and Mrs. Price began preparing for a trip to New York. Clara wanted to see the shops and watch a Broadway play before Abigail’s wedding to Ethan, which was planned for Saturday. Abigail intended to have a small ceremony in the gardens, then move into the apartment with Ethan and his father after the wedding. The house was buzzing with excitement in anticipation of the eventful week.
Abigail visited Ethan in the stable early in the morning. “Are you ready for Saturday?” she asked with a smile.
Ethan smiled back at her. “I can’t wait,” he answered. Abigail giggled as Ethan put his arms around her and lifted her up.
“Perhaps I should not leave you two in here without a chaperon,” Clara teased as s
he walked into the stable.
Abigail laughed while Ethan set her back down. “Are you leaving now, Clara?” she asked, observing that Clara was wearing traveling clothes and a hat.
“Yes, we are just going now. Mother is already in the car,” Clara answered cheerfully. “I wanted to see you together so that I may give you a wedding present early. I wish to give Amethyst and Silver to the both of you. I know you care for them dearly.”
Abigail gasped. “Clara, how wonderful!” she exclaimed, then went to embrace Clara. “What a lovely gesture. I never dreamed that I might have a horse of my own someday!”
Clara was beaming. “It is my pleasure. I must hurry to the car now.”
“I wish you a marvelous time in New York,” Abigail said sincerely. Clara left Abigail and Ethan in the stable, each smiling brightly.
Ethan patted Silver on the back. “That was generous of her,” he remarked. “I was not expecting that at all.”
“Clara has become a lovely lady. She is kind to me at the house and sees to it that I am paid an allowance, just as before,” said Abigail. “Oh Ethan, it brings me such happiness to know we will be married soon. It seems that it is truly happening, now that we have received our first wedding present.”
“Of course it is truly happening,” Ethan replied with a smile. “It is all I can think about my whole day.”
At the breakfast table, Abigail told Mary the news of her wedding present from Clara. Mary was pleased to hear of Clara’s generosity and kindness toward Abigail. The girls later changed into their riding clothes to take Dolly and Amethyst over the trails of the estate.
Clara and her mother arrived in New York where they checked into a suite at The Grand Hotel. The bellhop carried the ladies’ cases to the luxurious room. A large vase of flowers greeted them as they entered the doorway, and the fragrance of fresh roses filled the room. “So this is what a hotel is like!” exclaimed Clara. “Isn’t it fabulous? I am going to look through the window.”
Mrs. Price enjoyed watching her daughter take in the delights of the big city. Mrs. Price was becoming quite taken with them herself. Clara peered through the window overlooking the street. “I never dreamed that so many automobiles would be on the road. We hardly saw any carriages once we arrived in New York. I expect everyone must have their own automobile now.”
“They are more affordable than ever before,” Mrs. Price remarked. “It used to be that only the upper class could afford the cars.”
“Mother, are we at war?” Clara asked abruptly.
Mrs. Price sighed. “Not yet, Child. Why do you ask?”
“When we were in the hotel lobby, I heard some men speak of us being at war.”
“It is a source of contention for certain. The Secretary of State has just resigned his post because of it. He was under heavy pressure to support our involvement in the War, but he is a pacifist.”
“What is a pacifist?” Clara asked curiously.
“It is a person who does not believe in war,” her mother explained.
“Are we pacifists?”
“I have not decided. It seems necessary to avoid war at all costs in some circumstances, but necessary to fight in others. If we are going to join the War, it would mean that young men like Ethan and Mr. Valenti could die young, fighting for a cause they might never have believed in,” Mrs. Price replied.
“Oh, I hope they are not called to fight. It would be a terrible loss if something were to happen to Ethan or Phillip.”
Mrs. Price paused for a moment. “Clara, why have you decided against Phillip?” she asked carefully.
Clara sighed in disappointment. “It is for a reason that even you would understand, Mother. He is Catholic and wanted me to agree to raise our children that way.”
“Heavens,” Mrs. Price responded. “What a pity. He seemed to be a good man. You are still attractive, Child. I am certain that you will find a suitable husband in no time. I always wondered what you were thinking when you were with that stable boy.”
Clara gasped. “You knew about that?”
Mrs. Price raised her eyebrow. “You cannot imagine that I could miss such a thing. A housekeeper must know the maids’ whereabouts at all times. I saw everything that happened in the house. Well, almost everything. I was deceived by Margaret more than once…” she trailed off.
“How could you bear to serve her, after everything she had done to us?” Clara questioned.
“I did what I had to do. I could not have been hired elsewhere in my condition. I suppose I always hoped that once your father saw your face, he would realize his mistake and recognize you as his daughter. Margaret saw to it that you stayed out of his sight. She could see the resemblance, I am certain.”
“What made Father finally realize the truth? I don’t see why it would have taken him twenty-five years,” asked Clara.
Mrs. Price appeared perplexed. “It was mere weeks before his death. He approached me rather suddenly one day to declare his error. He apologized for being wrong about you all those years. I still wonder what happened that must have convinced him that Margaret was never to be trusted.”
At Davenport House, Fiona watched from a window as a motor car pulled up in the front drive. A woman who wore a long black dress and black veil stepped out of the car and walked to the door. Fiona could feel her heart pounding in her chest in fear that it was the former Mistress. But when Fiona answered the door, she could tell in an instant that this woman was not Mrs. Davenport. She was meek and soft spoken. She greeted Fiona nervously. “Good afternoon. I have come to see Mr. Davenport, if you please.”
Fiona was speechless for a moment. She never had a visitor inquire after the late Mr. Davenport until now. She hung her head in sorrow. “I am sorry, Madam, but the Master is no longer with us.”
“When did this happen?” the woman asked in a hoarse whisper.
“In April of this year, Madam.”
The woman was silent for a moment, then asked, “Does a man called John Smith still work on the estate?”
“John Smith is the groundskeeper. He lives above the stable, Madam. I will send for him,” Fiona offered.
“You need not trouble yourself. I will find him,” the woman responded quickly. She walked to the stable and gasped when she saw Ethan there. “John?” she asked uncertainly.
Ethan was perplexed to see the woman. When he first watched her approach in mourning attire, he was worried that Mrs. Davenport had returned. He soon realized that this lady could not be Mrs. Davenport, but there was something familiar about her that Ethan could not understand. “I am Ethan. You must be looking for my pa,” he answered her gently.
“The housekeeper told me that John Smith lives here,” the woman told him.
“He just went upstairs. I will show you the way, Madam,” Ethan offered, and he led the woman up the staircase. He opened the door and told his father that a visitor was asking for him. John came to the door.
“How may I help, Madam?” he greeted.
“John?” the woman asked.
“Louisa,” he responded, his voice catching in his throat. He stepped forward and gestured for her to enter the sitting room. His heart felt a familiar sinking at the way Louisa flinched when John extended his arm.
“Please, come into the sitting room,” he offered softly. Louisa nodded and seated herself in a chair. John left the door open to allow light into the dark little room. Ethan thought it better to excuse himself so that his father could speak with the visitor alone.
“I did not know that you had a son,” Louisa said to John. “He is very handsome. For a moment, I thought that I was looking at you twenty years ago.”
“Maryanne never told you of our son? I watched her write you letters all the time,” John said in surprise.
“I am afraid that only one of her letters ever reached me. It was when she wrote to tell me of her employment at this house. Father instructed for the servants to burn any correspondence from Maryanne as soon as it arrived. We would never h
ave known of her passing, if not for the notice in the newspaper,” Louisa explained sorrowfully.
“Have you lived with your father all this while?” John asked. Louisa nodded in response. John shook his head. “I hoped that you would have been married long ago, and gotten away from that man. If I thought you were still there—”
“It is in the past now,” Louisa interrupted him. “Father is dead. It is why I have come here.”
“You have come to see me?”
“I—I came to see Mr. Davenport. I did not know that you would still be here. But the housekeeper has told me that Mr. Davenport passed away in April. What happened, John?” Louisa asked anxiously.
John sighed. “It is a complicated matter. He was killed by his own son. The Master discovered that he had been deceived, and he changed his Will to recognize another heir. The way I understand it, the son was afraid to lose his inheritance and got to the Master before anything could change.”
“Oh John, I am worried that this may have been my fault! Earlier this year when my father was dying, I wrote a letter to Mr. Davenport. I explained to him that his daughter Mary was truly the daughter of my sister. He wrote back to inform me that his wife had deceived him about the child, and that he would make the appropriate arrangements for his heirs. I never dreamed that it would end like this, or I would never have written.”
John Smith was quiet. The sequence of events was beginning to make sense for the first time. “Why did you write to him?”
“It is because I have never married and—I have no heirs. I wished to find Mary and make her heiress to the manor house. It is what I told Mr. Davenport. I was unaware that you also had a son,” Louisa explained.
“Miss Mary will appreciate this news,” John replied. “We can talk about it later. For now, I am afraid that my sitting room is dimly lit and your veil prevents me from seeing your face. I can find somewhere to place your hat and veil, if you wish.”