by Marie Silk
“I am glad for you,” Abigail replied. “Did you wish to see me about something?”
Phillip took a deep breath and sat on a chair near the door. “I’ve never told you about that day. The day I got this injury.”
Abigail looked at him compassionately. “You did tell me the night you had the whiskey. You said that Ethan saved you from the Germans.”
“Yes…yes that’s true…” he said. “It was bad, Abigail. The only reason I’m alive today is because he pulled me out. But then…then he had to go back in. It would be a miracle for anyone to survive that battlefield. It was the fifth day of September.”
Abigail’s chin began to tremble. “Do you believe he died that day?” Phillip nodded. Abigail looked down at the quilt on her lap. “I see.” Tears began to fall and Phillip handed her a handkerchief from the top of the bedside table. She then asked emotionally, “Will you come to my husband’s memorial service?”
“I’ll be there,” he replied, choking the words out. Phillip quietly left the room and met Mary and Clara on the upstairs landing. “She’ll have the memorial service.”
Mary and Clara breathed in relief. “Thank you, Mr. Valenti,” Mary said sincerely. “This means the world to my family and me.”
“I think you should know his last words on that day,” Phillip told her. “He made me swear to take care of you and Abigail. You were on his heart until the very end. If there’s anything you ever need, I’m here for you.”
Mary hugged Phillip, her tears falling on his shoulder as she whimpered, “Thank you.”
Abigail remained alone in her room, gazing mournfully at the small wooden carving that she held. She knew in her heart that she could not bear to spend the holidays at Davenport House...knowing that her husband was never coming back.
PART II
In the seasons that followed, the world faced a new crisis that proved worse than the War. An outbreak of Spanish Flu, together with the shortage of medical staff, was felt dreadfully by all. Many ladies on the home front were compelled to join the Red Cross in an effort to preserve what was left of the nation. It was with the Red Cross that Abigail found escape from her grief for many months...but a timely letter from Mary was enough to persuade her that a noble cause awaited her back at Davenport House...
Chapter 8
Spring of 1918, Davenport House
“This is going to be a grand party, I see,” Mary said to Clara while admiring the decorations in the Hall.
“I was born to plan parties,” Clara stated with confidence. “It is also how I make up for not having the big wedding I always wanted.”
“I’m sorry about that, Clara. Any idea of when Lawrence will be home?”
Clara shrugged. “He is still with his mother. I’ve offered to travel to Pittsburgh so that I can help too, but he insists it is too dangerous right now.”
“He may be right about that. The outbreak is worse than I have ever seen it. William said there are not enough undertakers in the country to keep up, and he has forbidden any pregnant women from entering the clinic.”
“The county is fortunate to have a capable midwife now,” Clara said.
Mary smiled. “I suppose I began just in time. I can hardly keep up with the births. I’m only glad that Abigail is returning tomorrow. I need all the help I can get!”
“I wonder how she is doing,” Clara said quietly. “None of us expected her to leave so soon after Ethan’s service.”
“Her letters sound cheerful enough. I think it has done her well to be away and feel useful,” Mary replied. “Staying busy is all that keeps my mind off how grieved I am for my brother. When I go to bed at night, all the tears that I hold back during the day suddenly come out.”
Clara put her hand on Mary’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that William cannot be here now. We can only pray for the end of this terrible outbreak so we may move forward with our lives.”
Sam was in the stable tending the horses when Fiona arrived breathlessly. “There is a letter in the post for you today,” she said, handing him the envelope. “I can read it with you tonight, but I have to get back to the house now. Miss Clara is planning a great party for your sister’s homecoming.”
Sam grinned as she scurried away. “Thank you, Fiona. Good luck with the party!”
Late that night after everyone had gone to bed, Fiona heard a soft knock at her bedroom door. She climbed out of bed and turned on the bedside lamp, then opened her door a little ways. “Sam? What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I never got to hear what the letter says,” he whispered back.
“I got so busy today that I forgot about it,” Fiona replied. “I’ll get dressed and meet you in the kitchen.”
Sam was nervously pacing in the kitchen when Fiona came to him. “I know I shouldn’t be here at this time of night, but I got scared. It doesn’t look like Jenny’s other letters.”
Fiona took the letter from Sam and noticed that it was not Jenny’s handwriting. “You’re right, it doesn’t look like the others,” she said, carefully opening the envelope. Her heart sank when she saw the enclosed lock of hair and the words that accompanied it. “Sam…it is from Jenny’s father.” He nodded sadly and waited for her to read.
Samuel,
Our hearts are heavy, for influenza has entered our home and taken Jenny to be with our Lord. She asked us to send this lock of hair for you to remember her by. Our family looks forward to the day when we can all be together again in Heaven. I’m sorry, Son.
Gary
Fiona gave it back to Sam. “I’m terribly sorry,” she said quietly.
“It’s my fault,” Sam muttered. “It shouldn’t have taken me so long to get our house built. If I’d just worked harder…she would be here with me now…”
“It could never have been your fault,” Fiona responded.
Sam buried his head in his hands. “Why did I take so long? If only I hadn’t—” his words were muffled between cries. Fiona went to the cupboard to get a glass of water for Sam, but when she turned around, he was no longer there. Fiona poured the water into the sink and returned the glass to the cupboard before going back to bed. She silently lay in bed looking up at the ceiling while tears rolled down the sides of her face.
The next morning, Phillip drove Clara to the train station to meet Abigail. “I wonder if she’ll even recognize us in these ghastly things,” Clara remarked, referring to the gauze masks they wore to cover their mouth and nose.
“She’ll likely be wearing one too,” Phillip replied. “At least, I hope she is.” The people in town wore identical gauze masks to prevent the spread of influenza. The ones who had no mask held handkerchiefs to cover their faces.
They arrived at the station just as Abigail was stepping off the train with her traveling case in hand. Clara waved at her. “Abigail! Over here!”
Abigail walked over to hug Clara while Phillip took her traveling case. “Welcome home, dear,” Clara greeted.
“Thank you, Clara. I am glad to be coming home.” She turned to Phillip. “You look well. Your leg must be healed by now.”
“Healed enough to drive again, and that’s good enough for me,” he answered shyly.
They climbed into the car and soon arrived at Davenport House, where they could finally remove the gauze masks. The house was decorated with streamers, balloons, and colorful flower arrangements. A large banner read:
WELCOME HOME ABIGAIL
Abigail could not help but laugh. “You did not go through all of this trouble just for me,” she said.
Clara beamed. “Are you kidding? It was the most fun I’ve had in ages!”
Mary walked through the front door just then. “Abigail!” she exclaimed, hugging her friend tightly.
“Let us go to the drawing room while we catch up,” Clara said. Tea and cakes were set out on a lace tablecloth in the center.
“How did you enjoy worknig with the Red Cross?” Mary asked her.
Abiga
il managed a smile. “It was rewarding at times, and difficult at other times,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m looking forward to delivering babies with you from now on.”
“You came just in time. I have five women who are sure to deliver by the end of the week.”
“Oh dear, I will do my best,” Abigail giggled. “The last time I attended a birth was when my mother delivered my little sister. I don’t remember much of it.”
“You’ll be an expert in no time,” Mary assured her. “I lost count of the births I attended after a hundred.”
“Oh, let’s not talk about work right now,” Clara said. “We are going to have a lovely party tonight in honor of Abigail coming home. I asked Mrs. Malone to make your favorite dishes and we will all wear our best dresses.”
Before the party started that night, Abigail walked to the Valentis’ farmhouse. Phillip answered the door in surprise. “Abigail,” he said. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, Phillip. I bought these delightful ribbons in Philadelphia for Serena. I thought she might like to wear them to the party tonight.”
“Oh—um—I guess you haven’t heard. Serena never came back.”
“What do you mean? Is she alright?”
“She telephoned the house saying she needed more time in Pittsburgh, and that’s when she found out that I had come back home. I guess she decided to stay with Angelina.”
Abigail smiled. “That’s understandable.” She noticed that Phillip was still in his day clothes. “Aren’t you coming to my party? Clara intends to make a spectacle of me, you know.”
Phillip laughed nervously. “I know, but…I have the children…”
“You must bring them! I am always cheered to see their faces. Please bring them tonight.”
“I’ll send them over just as soon as I can get them ready.”
“Then, you won’t be coming too?” Abigail asked in confusion. Phillip hesitated to answer. Abigail sensed awkwardness between them. “What is it? Why don’t you want to come?”
Phillip cringed. “It’s just that—I started to remember some of the things I said to you the night you were here—I’ve been embarrassed ever since. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Oh—that,” Abigail sputtered, beginning to feel embarrassed herself. You need not worry about any of that. It was I who made you drink a full bottle of whiskey. I haven’t given it a second thought. Please, say that you will come to the party tonight.”
“If you want me to be there, I’ll be there,” he acquiesced.
In the servants’ quarters of the house, Sam asked the cook for a plate of dinner to take back with him to the stable. She looked at him quizzically. “Why aren’t you up there for the party? It’s for your own sister.”
Nora overheard and scoffed. “He must not have been invited. He’s been moping around since yesterday. He wouldn’t own anything fancy enough to wear up there anyway.”
“That’s enough, Nora,” Fiona scolded. “It’s Sam’s business whether he attends the party or not. Now take this tray to the banquet table.” Nora obeyed and Sam left the kitchen quietly. Fiona noticed that he left before Mrs. Malone could serve up a plate for him.
Upstairs in the library, the telephone began to ring. Mary was called to a birth and had to leave. The next telephone call was for Clara from Lawrence. Clara sat in the library near the phone. “Lawrence, I am still waiting on the money. Haven’t you sent it yet?”
“I’m sorry, my dear. I’ll send it first thing tomorrow,” he replied distractedly.
Clara breathed in frustration. “You’ve been saying that since last year. I’m losing hope.” The other end was quiet. “Lawrence, if you spent the money, then just say so. I think it’s lovely that you bought me jewelry, but I already have more than enough necklaces.”
“What jewelry are you talking about?”
Clara heaved a sigh. “I saw the diamond necklace in the bureau. I know it must have been terribly expensive. Why don’t you just sell the necklace and send me the money.”
“Oh—that necklace. I’m sorry, my dear, but I did not buy it for you. It was for my mother. She never got to have nice things, you know, so I wished her to have it. She’s wearing it as we speak. I can’t ask for it back now.”
“No, I suppose you can’t,” Clara groaned. “Will you be coming home soon?”
“I’ll be there before you know it, Clara. Goodbye, my dear.” Clara hung up the phone in disappointment. Fiona was standing near the doorway of the library and had overheard every word.
In the drawing room, the Valenti children were asking Abigail many questions. Phillip finally intervened. “Gabriella, Donnie, that’s enough questions for Miss Abigail in one night. Why don’t you go and have some cake.”
“Hooray!” the children said in unison, and scrambled to the banquet table.
Abigail laughed. “Thank you for bringing the children. They have made this party the perfect homecoming for me.”
Phillip pulled up a chair next to her. “I heard that you returned to assist Mary in midwifery,” he said.
“I did. Mary had to leave tonight but insisted that I stay for my party. I am nervous about the first time I will be present to deliver a child,” she told him. “I have butterflies every time I think of it.”
Phillip chuckled. “It’s not hard at all. If I can do it, you can too.”
Abigail looked at him with wide eyes. “You’ve helped with a birth before?”
Phillip laughed again. “Who do you think delivered Gabriella and Donnie?”
“I did not realize.”
“Sofia had them so fast, there was never time to wait for a midwife. Gabriella came out nice and easy. But Donnie…he was the one who gave us a scare.”
“What happened?”
“When Donnie came out, the cord was wrapped around his neck real tight. He turned blue,” Phillip shuddered to remember it.
“What did you do?”
“I unwrapped the cord and breathed into his mouth. It happened so fast, but it was instinct. I just had to get him to breathe again.”
“Goodness. Well, you have done a fine job with Donnie. He is healthy and happy now.”
Clara walked into the room just then. “I’m sorry I had to desert you for the telephone call, Abigail.”
“It’s alright, Clara. Thank you for having this lovely party for me. I am having a good time.”
“It is my pleasure,” replied Clara. She looked toward the banquet table. “Oh dear, the children have already gotten a piece of cake! I was too late to serve it properly. Goodness, they do not even have a plate!” Abigail and Phillip laughed as they watched the children joyfully eat the cake they held in their hands.
Later that night, Fiona went to the stable and knocked on the door to the apartment above. Sam opened the door and looked at his feet sadly. “I don’t think I can talk right now, Fiona.”
“I didn’t come to talk, only I noticed you never took a helping of dinner from Mrs. Malone. I brought some leftovers from the banquet tonight, and some cake, if you would like it.” Fiona held out a tin for Sam.
“I am grateful,” he said, taking the tin from her.
“Goodnight, Sam.”
“Goodnight.”
Chapter 9
The following day, Clara summoned Fiona to meet her in the library. “Close the door behind you, Fiona,” she told her solemnly.
“What did you need to see me about, Miss Clara?” she asked.
“The reason I called you in is because one of the maids has complained about you. It seems quite serious,” Clara began.
“Oh?” Fiona said nervously. “I know that Nora does not like me much.”
“It was not Nora. It was Jane. That’s why I am taking the matter more seriously.”
Fiona could feel her heart beating wildly. She could not imagine what Jane could have said to her.
Clara continued, “Did Sam come to your bedroom after everyone had retired for the night?”
Fiona’s eyes g
rew wide. “He did—Miss Clara—but it wasn’t like that!” she stammered.
“What happened?”
Fiona took a deep breath while she tried to think of how she would answer. “You see, no one really knows except Miss Abigail, but Sam never learned to read. I’ve been reading him the letters that his fiance sends him from Johnstown.”
“I see. It does not seem a good reason for him to be visiting you in the middle of the night, though,” Clara replied.
“It only happened that one night because it was an emergency. I meant to read the letter earlier in the day, but became busy and forgot. Sam observed that the note was not written in her hand, and he worried it might be bad news.”
“Was it?”
Fiona nodded. “She has died of influenza, Miss Clara.”
“How terrible. I had no idea Sam was engaged,” Clara said.
“He keeps these things to himself, Miss Clara. I haven’t said a word of this to anyone except for you just now.”
“I knew there would be a reasonable explanation. I was going to speak with Sam after meeting with you today, but I no longer think it is necessary. However, you will need to give Jane an explanation. She should not have to worry about men coming into the servants’ quarters at night.”
“Yes, Miss Clara. I’ll be sure to get it sorted with her.”
“Very good. Thank you for telling me the truth. I would rather that everyone is honest with me than forcing me to guess whether or not they can be trusted.”
Fiona held her breath while a sinking feeling washed over her. She remained there awkwardly, staring at Clara as if the words would burst forth at any moment. Clara looked at her curiously. “What is it?”
“Oh Miss Clara, there is something you should know about Mr. Collins, but I don’t know how to say it!”
“My husband? What do you mean? Fiona, I beg of you to tell me whatever it is that you know.”
Fiona looked at the floor. “Do you remember when my sister left the house? It was because Mr. Collins wanted her to be with him in another room after you had gone to sleep.”