by Marie Silk
Fiona hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. “Can I tell Miss Abigail what you have told me—that you won’t sign up? She will be cheered by the news.”
“Of course you can tell her. Abby needs to hear something that will make her happy,” Sam laughed, “even if it’s something I might get in trouble for!”
The following weeks were tense at the house. Lawrence and Clara attended dinner together every night, but behaved as strangers. William moved back into the clinic following an outbreak of influenza that threatened to be worse than the last. The ladies of the house prayed daily for relief to come to the nation, and on the thirtieth day of September, a glimpse of hope appeared at the house.
Clara burst into the upstairs sitting room where Mary and Abigail were having tea. “You’ll never believe it! Oh, it is the most wonderful news!” she cried.
“What is it?” giggled Mary. “Tell us already.”
Clara laughed. “I still can’t believe it myself, but our President has moved for support of the votes for women! We might all be voting in the next election!”
“How wonderful,” said Abigail. “Your efforts have finally paid off, Clara. Well done!”
Clara beamed. “This is great news for not only the women of today, but for our daughters and granddaughters! I am going to tell the maids. We will celebrate tonight!” Clara hurried out of the room.
Mary turned to Abigail. “What do you think, Abigail? Would you like to vote?”
But Abigail stared blankly toward the window. “Mary, something is happening. I’m in terrible pain all of a sudden.”
“Oh dear. Let’s get you to bed.” Mary helped Abigail to the bedroom.
“I feel a terrible tightening just here,” Abigail groaned. “I’m afraid!” She doubled over and cried out loudly.
“You must relax as much as you can. I am going to get you some water.” When Mary returned from the kitchen, Abigail smiled weakly.
“The pain has stopped,” she said, struggling to sit up straight. “It was agony for those few minutes. I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry to worry you.”
Mary sat next to Abigail on the bed and felt a sense of dread. “I would like to examine you just to be sure.”
Abigail agreed, but could soon detect the anguish in Mary’s expression. “What is it?”
“It’s far too early for the baby to come,” she told her solemnly. “But it seems your body may not be strong enough to keep the baby in. You will need to stay in bed for the next several months.”
Abigail swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you think I will lose it?”
“We must hope and pray that does not happen,” Mary answered. “But you can no longer be on your feet. It would only make it worse.”
“If you say so, Mary,” Abigail replied sadly. “But do you think we could move my bed near the window first? I want to be able to see when Ethan returns to the house. Oh dear, and Clara wants to celebrate tonight.”
“I will have the maids move the bed. You just rest for now. And don’t worry, I will explain to Clara.”
The months went by slowly for Abigail, who lay in bed, watching the window and hoping for a sign of Ethan’s return. Mary walked into the bedroom one day, smiling and crying at the same time. “Abigail, I have some news. It is very exciting, but you must relax as best you can while I tell it to you.”
“Is it about Ethan?” she asked quickly.
“No, dear. I’m sorry,” Mary said, reaching out to stroke her hair.
“Oh,” Abigail frowned. “What is the news?”
“It is the War,” Mary told her emotionally. “Germany has signed a peace agreement, and—the War is finally over!”
Chapter 14
Thanksgiving Day, 1918
“How are you feeling today, Abigail?” Mary asked kindly while she brought a tray of tea to the bedroom.
“I will feel better if Ethan comes today. I begged him to come to the dinner, even though I cannot dine downstairs with you.”
“I wish you could,” said Mary. “Clara has invited all of the servants to dine with us at the table. She said we have the end of the War to be thankful for and should celebrate together.”
Abigail gasped at the sound of a car driving up to the house. She held her breath and looked out the window, then let out a sigh. “Mary, William is here.”
“He is? I haven’t seen him in ages! Thank goodness he has come today!” She felt guilty when she looked at Abigail. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“You don’t need to be sorry, Mary. I’m glad for you. I hope William may stay for a night at least.”
“I will be back with your Thanksgiving meal when it is ready,” she told Abigail, then hurried downstairs to see William. She ran to him and hugged him close.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he whispered in her ear.
Mary had tears of joy. “How wonderful that you have come today. What a surprise!”
“I will have to go right back tomorrow morning, but I couldn’t go another day without seeing you,” he told her, kissing her face all over. “Let’s go in now and see if dinner is ready. I’m famished!”
The maids were giddy over being able to dine with the family. Each wore her Sunday best to the dining room. The table was set elegantly with many rows of silver candlesticks. A buffet was laid out with oyster soup, stuffed turkey, potatoes, rum punch, and seemingly endless assortment of pies. “Take a seat in whichever place you’d like,” Clara instructed everyone cheerfully.
“It’s a splendid dinner, Clara. You have outdone yourself,” Lawrence said kindly.
Clara looked into his eyes and smiled. She was glad that Lawrence was amiable for the dinner, even though the two of them had barely spoken in months. “Thank you, Lawrence. Happy Thanksgiving.”
Sam was in line behind Fiona at the buffet. “Fiona,” he said quietly. “Is it alright if I sit next to you at dinner?”
Fiona was glad she was facing away from him so that he could not see how red her face had become. “Yes, of course,” she said over her shoulder. She took her plate and waited for Sam to finish getting his. Then they found two seats together at the table and chose their places there.
When everyone had finished being seated, Clara tapped a fork against her wine glass. “Today we give thanks that we have survived the most difficult year that our country has known since the War of the Rebellion. Let us celebrate life and abundance and be thankful that we have made it this far! There is plenty of food, so don’t be shy if you would like a second helping.”
William laughed. “How about a third helping?”
Clara grinned. “You should not be shy about a third helping, Dr. Hamilton, especially since you have been away saving so many lives. We might not have a town anymore if not for you, and we are thankful to you for your efforts.”
Sam turned to Fiona. “I’m thankful for you,” he said. “You’ve been a great friend…helped me get through a bad time.”
“I’m thankful you never had to go to War,” Fiona replied shyly. “Thank goodness they never came for you.” She felt her heart flutter when Sam took her hand under the table and held it gently. She was afraid to try to eat from her plate because she knew it would mean she had to let go of his hand. Instead she was content to watch the others, who were having a merry time.
Abigail did not touch the tray of dinner that was brought to her upstairs room. She watched through the window, trying her best to ignore the sinking feeling that this would be another holiday season without her husband.
The snow began to fall heavy. Fires crackled in every room, but it was difficult to keep up with the chill that was felt off every window. Abigail watched the snowflakes from her bed, growing more uncomfortable every day from the heaviness of her belly. Mary walked in to check on her. “I have to attend a birth now, even though I just returned from one,” she giggled. “It is not too far, so I decided to take Dolly.” She looked at Abigail’s belly and shook her head. “I really think it will be any day now. Haven
’t you felt anything happening?”
“Not yet, Mary. You will be the first to know if I do,” Abigail replied. “Is William coming for Christmas dinner tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid not. Apparently, this outbreak is worse than the one we had in the springtime. William is waiting for help from the Red Cross. None of us know how long it will be before they arrive in Yorktown.”
Abigail smiled at Mary. “You mustn’t worry, Mary. I have a feeling that the Red Cross will arrive just in time.”
Mary spent more hours at the birth than she was expecting, and was not able to leave until the next morning. After she had finished attending the new mother, she packed her medical kit into one of her saddlebags, but began to feel dizzy and weak. “What’s happening to me?” she whispered as she felt a sudden turning in her stomach. She climbed onto Dolly and nudged her with the sides of her boots. As Dolly trotted along, Mary could feel herself becoming ill. She pulled on the reigns and dismounted just in time to feel herself purging into the snow. She took deep breaths and tried to steady herself, but suddenly recalled that the house she had been to the previous day had a child who was ill. “Oh no,” she said under her breath. She climbed back onto Dolly and made her way to the house as quickly as she could.
She dismounted shortly before reaching the stable. Sam came out to meet her. “Are you alright, Mrs. Hamilton?”
“Stay away, Sam. I’m not alright. I believe I have the influenza,” she explained, her voice catching in her throat.
Sam backed away and waited for her to go into the house before he took Dolly to the stable. Mary went straight into the library and telephoned the clinic. “William, I’m sorry to bother you. The house I attended yesterday had a child who was ill. I have just remembered it, but now I am feeling dreadful. It hurts me to even move.”
“Alright, Mary,” William said, choking on his words. “Go to your bedroom and do not let anyone in the house come near you.”
Mary felt tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, William.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Many have recovered from this illness, so do not give up hope. I will be there as soon as I can.”
“I love you,” she said tearfully.
“I love you, Mary. Goodbye.”
Mary took each heavy step up the staircase, grasping the rail for support. When she made it to her bedroom, she found a red ribbon and tied it onto the doorknob to warn the staff. She then lay on her bed and blacked out.
Clara felt her heart sink when she saw the ribbon on Mary’s door. “Mary,” she called, knocking softly on the door. “Mary, are you alright?” When no answer came, she hurried downstairs to the servants’ quarters and addressed the maids. “Mary has marked her door to show that she is suffering from influenza. No one is to enter her room under any circumstances. When you bring a tray for her, leave it just outside the door, but do not take it inside. Mr. Collins has telephoned to say that he will not be attending Christmas dinner after all, and with Abigail confined to her room...the dinner will be put on hold until further notice. I have given permission for Mrs. Malone to visit her family until the New Year, and I don’t imagine we will require much cooking while the men are away and the ladies are confined to their rooms. Be sure to remember about Mary’s illness—it is of utmost importance that it not be allowed to spread in this house.”
The maids nodded worriedly. Clara returned up the stairs to a loud cry coming from Abigail’s room. She hurried inside to find her wailing on the bed. “Is the baby coming?”
“No,” Abigail sobbed. “Ethan cannot forgive me, and this anguish is my punishment. Or else he has died and that is why he will not return my letters. Either way, he is never coming back!”
“You must calm yourself, dear. If there was anything I could do for you—”
“Clara, will you go to him?” she pleaded. “Just be sure he is still alive. I’m afraid something has happened to him!”
“I will go to him,” Clara said, trying to calm her down. “You just stay here and rest. Tell the maids if you need anything.”
Abigail sighed in relief. “Thank you, Clara. You are a dear friend. Thank you for going to see him.” Clara put on her coat, then she and Sam began the snowy drive to the ranch in Yorktown.
Ethan was grooming the horses in one of the buildings. He was stunned to see Clara walk inside. He felt as though his heart stopped. “Has something happened to Abigail?”
“So you do care for her,” Clara said in a scolding tone. “Do you know how many days she has waited in agony for you to come home?”
“I can’t go back, Clara.” He took a deep breath and continued with a shaking voice, “I’ve decided to give Abigail a divorce.”
Clara gasped. “Ethan, you wouldn’t!” She was too shocked to say more.
Ethan looked away from her and explained quietly, “People have come to expect divorce now. They blame the War. It’s not as shameful as it once was…”
“If you are going to tell me it’s because you don’t love Abigail anymore, then I won’t believe it. I saw how worried you were to see me when you thought something might have happened to her.”
“Of course I love her, Clara. It is why I will give her the divorce. Then she can be free to be happy with someone else.”
“You speak as if you are doing her a favor, when in truth she is heartbroken at home, believing you are staying away because you can’t forgive her.”
“That’s not it at all,” Ethan sighed. “I’m worried I will hurt her.”
“Then how could you even suggest a divorce? She is Catholic anyway, she doesn’t believe in it. If you tell her that you want a divorce now, it will not just hurt her. It will cripple her forever.”
Ethan looked helplessly at Clara. “Then I don’t know what to do.”
“Come home to Abigail. She needs you desperately. If you could see how anguished she was when you did not come for Thanksgiving or return any of her letters…”
“I couldn’t read them,” Ethan confessed. “I knew that if I did, I would come rushing back to her—but I’m afraid of hurting her. The War messed up my mind, Clara. William had to stop me from hurting her one night. I didn’t know what I was doing. William said we had to sleep separately or I might really harm her. Abigail deserves a chance with someone she doesn’t have to be afraid of. I hoped that if I stayed away, it would be like I never came back, when she was better off without me.”
“I didn’t realize that was the reason you left,” she replied sadly. “There must be a solution that is not divorce. What about the baby?”
Ethan looked mortified. “Abigail is pregnant?”
“You didn’t know?” she cried impatiently. “She’s due to have the baby at any minute!”
He clutched his chest in sorrow. “And you’re sure she still wants me?”
“Yes!” Clara exclaimed. “It’s why I’m here. Come home, even if it is only for an hour. She will feel better the instant she sees that you still care for her. If you are worried about sleeping near her in the house, you can move into the stable apartment with Sam.”
Ethan looked at her mournfully. “Please, take me to her.”
“There’s something else you should know,” Clara remembered emotionally. “Mary is not well. She has tied a red ribbon on her bedroom door.”
Ethan’s face crumpled. “Let’s hurry.” They climbed into the car with Sam and drove away from Yorktown.
At the house, Fiona was startled by Abigail loudly calling for her. “Fiona, help!” she cried.
Fiona rushed up the stairs to find Abigail leaning over the bed in pain. “Is the baby coming?”
“Yes! Has Mary returned? I need her to come now!”
Fiona ran to Mary’s bedroom, but stopped suddenly when she saw the ribbon on the doorknob. She returned hastily to Abigail’s side. “Miss Mary cannot come. Should I telephone Dr. Hamilton?”
“There isn’t time for him to come,” cried Abigail. “Go fetch Mrs. Malone.”
> “She has already left for the holiday. There is only me and the two maids!”
Abigail cried out in pain as she held onto the bed. “Then go get Phillip. He will help.”
Fiona’s eyes grew wide. “You want me to bring Mr. Valenti?”
“Yes, tell him to come now!” she urged, and cried out again.
Fiona ran to the farmhouse and breathlessly told Phillip that Abigail was having the baby. He stared at her in disbelief. “Are you sure she asked for me?”
“Yes, she insisted that you come. Clara and Mary cannot help her, and I don’t know what to do!”
Phillip turned to tell Gabriella that he was leaving for a little while, then he hurried with Fiona back to the house. When he got to Abigail’s bedroom, she was already on the bed, crying in pain, and beginning to push. “Bring linens, a pot of water, and a ball of twine,” he told Fiona. She left the room to gather the items.
“I can feel it being born!” Abigail moaned.
Phillip rushed to her and caught the baby in his shaking hands. The cord was wound tight around the baby’s neck and its face began to turn blue. When Fiona returned to the room, Phillip was unwrapping the cord and breathing into the baby’s mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Abigail pleaded. “Has my child lived?”
Phillip continued to breathe into the baby’s mouth and Fiona watched in dismay. It seemed like hours, but it was only moments before the shrill cry of a newborn began echoing from the walls. Phillip placed the baby into Abigail’s arms and attended to her until the cord could be tied off with the twine.
When Ethan entered the house, he heard the shrieking cry of the baby. He ran upstairs to Abigail’s room, where Phillip and Fiona were there with her. The room went quiet. Ethan stared at Phillip in silence. The tension was felt by all, since neither Ethan nor Phillip expected to see the other at that moment. When Fiona spoke to Ethan, it jolted them back into reality. “I begged him to come help. The baby wouldn’t breathe and Mr. Valenti saved his life.”
It seemed as if everyone held their breath as they waited for what might happen next. Ethan finally stepped toward Phillip and slowly extended his hand. Neither of them said a word as they shook hands, the same as they did in the War, before everything changed for everyone. After shaking hands, Phillip quietly left the room and Ethan turned to Abigail.