by Marie Silk
Ethan and Mary rushed to Abigail’s room to see her. Abigail lay still on the bed, unable to respond to Ethan’s cries to wake her. Ethan knelt beside the bed and held Abigail’s hand in his.
Abigail slowly opened her eyes after several minutes. “Ethan,” she murmured.
“Abigail,” he whispered hoarsely. “I never should have left you. Forgive me, please.”
“I am the one who is sorry, Ethan,” she responded. “I am dying.”
“No you are not, you will be alright. William will be here soon,” Ethan replied, his voice full of panic. “You will recover and we will be married on Saturday.”
“I wish we could,” she said. “It is too late now.”
“It is not too late. I will help you however I can. Just tell me what you need, and I will bring it for you,” he said frantically. “Do you want a drink of water? The others say you have had nothing all day.”
“I need my mother’s rosary,” she whispered. “It is in the top drawer.”
Ethan leapt from the floor to retrieve the rosary and gave it to Abigail with his hands shaking. “Anything else you need, I am here. Just tell me.”
“I must give confession,” she said weakly. Tears ran down the sides of her face. “There is a priest who lives near the Valentis.”
Ethan turned to hurry from the room until he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. “What does she need, Son?” asked his father’s voice.
“She is asking for a priest who lives up the road from the farmhouse,” Ethan replied, clutching his stomach in agony.
“I will get him. You stay with her,” his father told him. Ethan nodded gratefully and John hurried out of the house to the stable. He climbed on a horse and rode away to find the priest as quickly as possible.
Mrs. Price arranged for Louisa to stay in one of the upstairs rooms while the others were looking in on Abigail. Louisa felt helpless and wished that she could do something to assist the anguished family.
Mary was beside herself with worry. Ethan stayed kneeling by the bed as he talked with Abigail about the estate that he was inheriting. “There is a cheerful cottage that I think you would like to live in,” he explained. “And if you do not like the cottage, we can live in the house of course. It has fifty rooms.”
Abigail managed a smile. “I love you,” she whispered.
Ethan held her close against his chest as tears rolled down his face. “I love you, Abigail. Please—stay with me.”
“William is here,” Clara announced solemnly from the hallway. William soon came through the doorway of Abigail’s room. Ethan moved from Abigail’s bedside to make room for him. Clara and Mrs. Price retired to bed so they would not crowd the small room.
“Abigail,” William said gently to her. “When did the fever start?”
“Yesterday,” she answered wearily.
“I am trying to understand how you became ill when the others in the house have not. Is there anything you might have eaten, or a well you might have drank from, apart from the others ?” he asked urgently.
“I do not think so,” she replied. “You need not attend to me, William. There are others who need you more. I am dying.”
“I have seen countless cases of this fever, and many patients recover, Abigail,” he tried to assure her.
“But—I have seen my mother. She lives in a beautiful place in Heaven. She came to me and told me that everything would be alright.”
William felt his heart sink. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Just stay with us, Abigail. You are loved and needed here.”
John Smith walked through the door with Father Salvestro just before leaving for the outdoors to be sure he was not in anyone’s way. William looked up at the priest in confusion.
“Abigail has asked to give confession,” Ethan quietly explained to William.
“We should let her,” William answered, gently squeezing Abigail’s hand, and moving to make way for the priest.
Mary approached William in the upstairs hallway. “How bad is she? Please, tell me the truth.”
William could hardly answer her. When he finally did, his voice was shaking. “You should prepare yourself, Mary.”
“Dear God, no!” Mary cried in a whisper as she covered her face with her hands. “Is there anything we can do?”
“We can make her comfortable and try to get her to drink,” he replied. “And pray with all our strength that she lives through the night.”
Mary nodded and waited in sorrow as Abigail quietly gave her confession to the priest. After several minutes, the priest rose from her bedside and backed away.
“She is asking for you now, Mary,” Ethan said.
Mary went to kneel beside Abigail. “I am here. Is there anything I may do to help?”
“Mary,” Abigail smiled slightly, but her voice was weak. “I wish you to keep my dearest possession when I am gone—my mother’s rosary—if you don’t mind.”
Mary could not contain the tears that flowed freely as she gazed at the rosary that Abigail held. “It is beautiful,” she answered. “I hope that you may keep it for many years to come.” It took great effort for Mary to stand up. Her body felt heavier than it ever had with each strenuous step she took away from Abigail’s side. Ethan went back to be with Abigail while Mary met William in the hallway.
“She really believes that she is dying!” cried Mary in a whisper. “I cannot live without her.”
“I am sorry, Mary,” said William sadly. “This is the most terrible visit I have had to make. I came as soon as I was able, but I do not know of anything further I can do for her.” His sad eyes looked weary with dark circles underneath them. It was clear that he had not slept in days.
“I will show you to a bedroom where you can rest,” Mary said in a low voice. She led him to a nearby guest room.
“Thank you, Mary,” he said as he sat on the bed. He was asleep within seconds. Mary left quietly and returned to see Abigail. As she walked into the room, she could see Ethan pleading with the priest.
“Sir—Father, Abigail wishes to be married. Can you marry us now? I will convert. I will do anything I must, just tell me what I have to do to marry her tonight,” he said urgently.
Father Salvestro looked downcast at Ethan. “My heart is heavy for having to answer you that I am not permitted to marry you under the circumstances. Conversion is a process that cannot be accomplished in one night.”
Ethan dropped to his knees and wept into his hands while Mary and Father Salvestro looked on helplessly. The priest returned to Abigail as he thought about the final words he might say to her. “Abigail, do you wish to be married to this man tonight?” he asked about Ethan.
“I do wish it, Father. If only it were possible,” she replied in a whisper. “I can hear him crying.”
“Young man?” called the priest. Ethan quickly got to his feet and joined him. The priest continued, “There is a way you may be married tonight if it is what the both of you wish. I cannot marry you into the Church, but I can be a witness. If you declare yourselves now to be man and wife, and live together as married from this day forward, your marriage will be as lawful as the most elaborate ceremony could make it.”
“Truly?” Ethan asked hopefully. “Yes, I wish to declare it as you said.”
“Abigail, do you declare yourself to be this man’s wife?” asked the priest.
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“And Young Man, is this the woman you declare to be your wife?”
“She is,” Ethan answered.
“Then I am a witness to your declaration and agree that you are lawfully married.”
“But Father,” said Abigail worriedly. “Will we be married in the eyes of God?”
The priest held back the tears that threatened to release at any moment. “I believe you will be, Child,” he answered in a whisper.
Mary observed everything that was said while holding a handkerchief to her tear-stained face. The priest soon left the house and Ethan lay o
n the bed next to Abigail with his arm carefully draped around her waist. Mary left the room quietly and planned to cry herself to sleep that night, praying to see Abigail recovered the next day.
“Ethan,” Abigail said suddenly. “Tell William that I bought poundies from an Irish boy in the street. I have just remembered. Please tell William to be kind to the poor boy. His family has nothing.”
Ethan did not understand the importance of the words that she spoke to him, but he assured her that he would relay the message to William. Abigail then closed her eyes. She did not respond to Ethan any longer. Ethan panicked and called in an anguished voice so loud that it struck fear into the hearts of everyone in the house, “William!”
William awoke with a start and rushed to the room where Abigail was limp on the bed. He breathed in relief. “She still lives, but she is unconscious. When Abigail wakes again, give her water, if she will take it.”
“I will,” Ethan replied breathlessly, trying to recover from his fright. “She said to tell you that she bought poundies from a boy in town, and that you should be kind to him.”
“What does that mean?” William asked him.
“I did not understand her either,” Ethan answered helplessly.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” Bridget spoke timidly from the hallway. “Poundies are potatoes with gravy, Dr. Hamilton.”
A look of realization crossed William’s face. “She was trying to tell us what made her ill. I think that I know the boy of whom she speaks. I have not seen him the past several days, but I will see to it that his family is notified discreetly.”
Ethan nodded and lay down next to Abigail again. William left the room and closed the door behind him. Mary was waiting in the hallway with wide eyes.
“Is she—?”
“She still breathes, Mary, but the fever has not subsided,” William explained. “You should try to sleep. Tomorrow may be another long day.”
“I will not sleep tonight,” she answered. I have just ordered tea.”
“I see. I will stay up also, if you wish,” offered William. Mary led him to the upstairs sitting room where William stirred the fire. They sat in front of the fireplace and drank tea together, never saying a word of what they were thinking.
Chapter 12
Ethan awoke suddenly the next morning. Memories of the night before gradually came to his recollection. He could feel his eyes and face burning from his cries of heartbreak that did not cease until he fell asleep. He quickly reached out his arm to hold Abigail, but could no longer feel her lying next to him. Ethan sat up straight in bed and looked beside him. He could only see the bed sheet and pillow. Abigail was not there.
The door to the en-suite bathroom opened just then and Abigail stepped into the room. “Good morning,” she greeted cheerfully.
Ethan stared at her in astonishment while she climbed back into the bed. “How—how are you feeling?” he stammered.
“I feel better than I have in a long time,” she answered with a smile. “I had a lovely dream that you and I were married in this very room.”
“You are remembering what happened last night,” he told her, still amazed that Abigail seemed to be awake and in good spirits.
She clasped her hands together in delight. “Then it wasn’t only a dream! I did enjoy waking up beside you this morning.”
Ethan gazed at her lovingly and stroked her hair. “Are you sure you are alright? Is there anything that I can bring for you?”
“You had better not leave me just now,” she replied playfully. “I am your wife and I am still waiting for you to kiss me.” Abigail smiled as Ethan moved closer to her on the bed and soon held her in a passionate embrace.
In the upstairs sitting room, Mary awoke with a start to sunlight flowing in through the large windows. She was still on the settee next to William where they had both fallen asleep the night before. Mary stood up quickly and William opened his eyes. He looked around the room groggily until he remembered how he had gotten there.
“Should we check on Abigail?” Mary questioned him.
“Let us see if Ethan has left the room,” William answered. They quietly walked down the hallway toward the bedroom just in time to see Ethan emerge and close the door behind him. He appeared to be in a blissful daze. One look at Ethan caused William to chuckle. “Abigail is recovered,” he whispered to Mary.
“She is? How do you know?” Mary asked bewildered.
Ethan was smiling sheepishly as he approached Mary and William. “She is asking for breakfast,” he told them.
“I suggest you hurry,” William laughed. “Be sure that she drinks water today.” Ethan nodded and headed for the kitchen.
Mary sighed in relief. “Thank goodness she is alright. What a fright she gave us!”
“I am going to return to town now, Mary. I need to look in at the clinic and attempt to find the boy who might have caused the outbreak. I—I am happy that your friend is recovering. The only patients of mine who never woke again were the ones who reported visits from their departed relatives. When Abigail told me that she saw her mother—I nearly broke down, thinking of what it would do to you.”
“I am glad you did not tell me this last night, or I might have fainted. I believe that I will sleep well today knowing my dear friend is alright. When will I see you again?” Mary asked him.
“I am not sure,” William answered. “Abigail should be just fine as long as she continues to eat and drink.”
Mary nodded. “Thank you for coming here for Abigail. Will you telephone us when the outbreak is over?”
“I will,” he promised. “Goodbye, Mary.”
Everyone was able to breathe easy when the news of Abigail’s recovery spread through the house. Mrs. Price told Clara, who was still lying in bed. Clara reacted gratefully, but it looked as though her mother had more to say. “There is something else, Child,” Mrs. Price continued. “It is about your chauffeur. He was bothering the maids last night and I saw to it that he left the estate.”
Clara shrugged. “I did not like him much anyway,” she stated bluntly.
“I wonder if you would consider Mr. Valenti for the position. He is a good man, Clara—even if he is a Catholic.”
Clara looked up in surprise. “I never imagined that you would admit such a thing.”
Mrs. Price smiled bashfully. “I may be set in my ways, but on rare occasion it is possible for my mind to change.”
“It would be agreeable to me, if Phillip does not mind. Do you really think he would want to chauffeur for me?”
“I think he will do what he must to feed his family. I will speak with him after breakfast,” decided Mrs. Price.
Mary went to the gardens behind the house and found John Smith working away as usual. “The gardens are looking lovelier than they ever have. It is a shame there will not be a wedding this weekend,” she mentioned.
The pair of shears that John held in his hand dropped to the ground as he looked at Mary in horror. “She is—gone?”
“Oh! I thought that everyone had heard by now that Abigail has recovered. I am sorry to frighten you! I only meant that she and Ethan will not be married in the gardens as they planned. They were married the presence of the priest last night.”
John nodded in relief. “Good for them. I sure was worried for that sweet girl.”
“Um—Father—,” Mary said awkwardly. “Will you be happy living in the manor house with us?”
“I don’t know that I could. Too many memories. I have been thinking about Louisa’s idea of going West. I always wanted to be a cowboy, you know.”
Mary giggled. “I did not know. I do hope you join us for breakfast and tell us about your plans.”
John smiled. “If you insist, Miss Mary.”
Mary and John arrived at breakfast where Clara, Mrs. Price, and Louisa were already seated. Mary made introductions and Clara was pleased to be hostess to her first guest since she became Mistress of the house. Mary told them the wedding story of Abigail an
d Ethan from the night before. The ladies felt tears in their eyes as Mary recounted the details.
“It may be the most romantic wedding that I have ever heard of,” remarked Clara. “I planned to make Abigail’s wedding a grand affair, but the way it happened will surely be more memorable than any other wedding could have been. If only she had not been so ill, poor dear.”
“We should send word to the minister that we will not require his services after all,” Mary thought aloud. “I nearly forgot to ask—how was your time in New York, Clara?”
“It was marvelous,” Clara answered beaming. “I am in love with it already and I intend to go more often. I hope you will accompany me sometime, Mary.”
“I do have news of my own to tell you. I now understand why Father did not choose to recognize me in his last wishes. My Aunt Louisa has explained everything and transferred her estate to Ethan and me. It has a lovely manor house with spectacular gardens. I cannot wait to show it to you, Clara.”
“Mary, that is excellent news! I have felt guilty ever since Davenport House was settled upon me. I am relieved to know that you will have a grand house of your own,” Clara replied.
Louisa smiled shyly. “I am delighted that the manor house will be left in such deserving hands. I believe that my sister would be pleased to know that her children are well set up in life.”
John looked intently at Louisa from across the table. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Louisa returned his look and smiled.
After breakfast, Mrs. Price went into the kitchen to see her sister Catherine. “I have something to tell you, Sister,” she began. “I have crossed paths with the former cook of this house. She wishes to return. We made an agreement that in exchange for documents in her possession, I would reinstate her as cook for Davenport House.”
Catherine’s mouth hung open. “Why, I never! How could you agree to such a thing, Dorothy Price? I am your own sister and you would throw me out for a second-rate cook! What does Clara say? I will have a word with her this instant—”