by Marie Silk
“You’re here,” she said breathlessly, but her face radiating with joy. “You came back to me.”
Ethan kneeled beside the bed and leaned forward to kiss her. “I’m sorry I stayed away. I should have written you back. I never meant to worry you or make you think I didn’t care. The truth is, I love you with all my heart and only thought I was doing what’s best for us.”
Abigail took his hand. “Thank you for coming home,” she whispered. She weakly held the baby out for him to hold.
When Ethan took the baby into his arms, he gazed at the small face with wonder, and spoke quietly. “He is perfect, Abigail. He has not seen war or the terrible things in life. I'll do anything to ensure he never has to.” Abigail felt tears filling her eyes as she observed how gently he held the baby, and how proud he was to gaze upon the sleeping child in his arms.
At the farmhouse, Phillip was slumped over the kitchen table, holding his heads in his hands. He looked up suddenly when he heard the front door creak open. Serena stood alone in the open doorway. “Brother!” she exclaimed. She rushed to put her arms around him and kiss his tear-stained face. “How good to see you! Are the children alright?”
Phillip nodded and wiped his eyes. “The children are sleeping.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked in concern. “You’ve been crying.”
Phillip shook his head dismissively. “How was your visit with Angelina?”
Serena lowered her head. “I never saw her, and no one knows where she is. The whole family she lived with was taken by influenza, but Angelina was not found among the dead. I’ve searched, but I’ve run out of money and had no choice but to come back without her.”
“You can have what money I have left,” Phillip offered.
Serena looked hopeful. “Do you have one hundred dollars?”
Phillip groaned. “I probably have twenty. What do you need one hundred dollars for?”
“There’s an investigator for hire in Pittsburgh. The folks in town say he can find anyone. That’s why his fee is so high.”
“We’ll figure out something.” Phillip stood up and headed for his bedroom. Without turning to look at Serena, he said emotionally, “How did you do it? How did you walk away from your child, knowing you could never raise her yourself like it ought to be?”
Serena thought about it and answered in a low voice. “The only way I could bear it was knowing she was raised in a better life than I could give her. Even so…it has been dreadful for me to be without her. Now I fear I have lost her forever.” She could hear Phillip begin to cry from where he stood. “Brother, what happened when I was away?” But Phillip kept walking to his bedroom and closed the door behind him.
At the same time in Davenport House, Ethan left Abigail’s bedroom to find Clara, who was waiting in the hallway. “You were right,” he told her. “Thank you for coming to talk some sense into me.”
“I was glad to. You will be so busy with the new baby that you’ll forget you ever considered those things. Now, there is something for Abigail under the Christmas tree. Could you bring it up? You’ll know it when you see it,” she grinned.
Ethan went downstairs to the Christmas tree while Clara entered the bedroom to see the baby.
“Oh, he is just perfect,” Clara whispered as she held him in her arms. “Do you have a name for him yet?”
“I think so. I have to see if Ethan agrees to it first,” Abigail blushed.
Clara nodded confidently. “He will agree to anything you say, so long as it makes you happy.” She contentedly held and rocked the sleeping baby in her arms.
Just down the hallway, Mary awoke in her dark room to a warm hand being placed to her forehead. She looked up disoriented. “William? Are you really here?”
He stood over her in concern. “I’m here,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “The Red Cross has arrived at the clinic. I’m going to stay with you now.”
“I’m sorry about all this,” Mary said, beginning to weep. “I did everything I could to save the Randall baby yesterday. But the whole family might be gone by now.”
“I saw the Randalls in town. They and the baby looked fine,” William explained.
Mary put her hand to her heart. “Oh, thank God.”
“When did the fever start?” William asked, stroking her hair.
“Well, I suppose I’ve not had a fever yet. But I hurt all over, and I am ill at the thought of eating.”
William abruptly switched on the lamp on the bedside table. Mary squinted from the light and groaned. “I must look terrible just now. I’ve had no time to fix myself up while I’ve been ill.”
William studied her face and a smile slowly crossed his lips. “On the contrary, you look better than ever.” He reached out to stroke her cheek. “I don’t think you had influenza at all.”
Mary sat up in bed. “What do you mean? I felt dreadful all morning!”
William laughed heartily and kissed her face. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Mary gasped. “Do you really think—? Oh, I’m so embarrassed!” She covered her face with her hands and started crying again. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
William handed her a handkerchief. “I do. And I couldn’t be happier.”
Mary uncovered her face. “Then, I can go see Abigail and the baby!”
“Yes, you can,” William smiled. “But don’t leave just yet. I worried for you all day and now that I know you are alright, I just want to feel you next to me again.” He lay down beside her and draped his arm around her waist.
Mary relaxed next to him. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you—” she began, but William had already fallen asleep. Mary watched him for a moment and kissed his forehead. “Merry Christmas, William.”
Mary decided she could not wait a minute longer to see the baby and she quietly slipped out of the room. When she looked into Abigail’s bedroom, she found Clara proudly holding a bundle in her arms.
“I can’t believe I missed it!” groaned Mary.
“Mary,” Abigail smiled to see her. “Clara said you might have been ill. You must be feeling better.”
Mary sat next to Abigail on the bed and shook her head. “I’m embarrassed now. It was not influenza at all. Now I’m just sorry I missed the birth.”
Abigail took her hand. “I am glad you are here now.”
Clara gently handed Mary the baby. “Isn’t he just brilliant?”
“He is,” Mary agreed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Mary, you’re glowing,” Abigail remarked, giving Mary a knowing look.
“What is his name?” asked Mary.
“I’m waiting to speak with Ethan,” Abigail replied, just as Ethan came through the doorway with a heavy object. Abigail gasped when she saw what he carried with him. He carefully set it on the floor beside the bed.
“Merry Christmas, Abigail,” Clara told her.
Abigail gazed lovingly at the intricately carved wooden cradle that was wrapped in a big red bow. She turned to Clara. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Clara.”
Ethan walked around the bed to hold her hand. “Do you have a name for our son?”
Abigail looked bashful. “I’d like to name him Patrick, for the saint of Ireland. Only if you agree, of course.”
“It is a good name,” he replied, taking the baby to hold in his arms. “Should we see if he likes his new bed?”
Abigail nodded happily. Ethan laid the baby on the soft mattress and whispered to him, “Merry Christmas, Patrick, my perfect son.”
Clara and Mary left the room quietly. “I’m glad to see you well, Mary,” Clara told her.
Mary blushed. “Thank you. It turned out to be a lovelier Christmas than I ever could have imagined.”
Clara laughed. “And you have not even opened my gift to you! And the dinner has been put on hold. Come, let us go down to the Christmas tree and ensure everyone receives their presents and gets their dinner.”
In the servants’ quarters of the hou
se, Fiona quietly slipped through the kitchen and exited the door to the outside. She went to the stable and knocked on the door of Sam’s apartment. He smiled when he opened the door. “Hello, Fiona.”
“I have something wonderful to tell you. You are now the uncle of a fine baby boy,” she announced proudly.
Sam’s face broke out into a smile. “She had the baby?”
Fiona nodded and giggled in delight. “He is lovely. I am certain Miss Abigail would like you to see the new little one, but Mr. Ethan is in there with her now.”
“Abby will be happy now that he is here.”
“Yes, I believe she will be,” Fiona replied. Then she became nervous. “I have something for you—it’s a present.”
“That was nice of you,” he said. Fiona brought her hand around from behind her back and held a set of matching knit gloves, scarf, and hat. Sam grinned. “Did you make these?”
“I did, in my spare time,” she answered shyly.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Merry Christmas, Sam.” Fiona smiled at him and turned to leave.
“Wait,” he said. “I hoped I could get your opinion on something.” He quickly went into the apartment and returned with a small box. “Do you think Abby might like these?” he asked nervously. “I never know what to get for a girl’s present.”
Fiona admired the silver hair combs with butterfly engraving. “They are lovely, Sam. I’m sure she will like them.”
“Oh,” he smiled sheepishly. “In that case, I have something to confess. I really got these for you, but I didn’t know if you would like them.”
Fiona looked up hopefully. “Did you truly?”
Sam nodded and laughed. “I already gave Abby her present this morning.”
Fiona laughed too. “Thank you for this beautiful gift,” she told him. “I’ve never had something nice like this before.”
He smiled proudly. “I’m glad I chose right, then. You’ve been a real help to me this year, and I want you to have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.”
“Thank you, Sam,” she blushed. “But does this mean you will have to save for longer to buy the land from Miss Clara?”
He looked at her admiringly. “I don’t mind, Fiona. I can be patient. Some things in life are worth the wait.”
...excerpt from Book 6...
DAVENPORT HOUSE
House Secrets
M A R I E S I L K
“Abby…Abby, wake up.” Sam gently shook her awake.
“Sam? What are you doing here?” she asked sleepily. Abigail sat up in bed and immediately checked on the baby, who was sleeping peacefully beside her. She shielded the baby’s eyes while she switched on the bedside lamp. “What time is it?”
Sam did not answer. He looked at her with fear in his eyes. “I found Mr. Collins.”
“Had he gone missing?” she questioned. “I did not realize. Where is he now?”
“In the field behind the stable. I tried to rouse him, but—he’s dead, Abby.”
Abigail drew a sharp breath. “Was Ethan with you?”
“No, he slept in his room the whole night. I didn’t know what to do when I found Mr. Collins like that, so I came here to wake you. You know everyone in this house better than me. What do I do?”
“We must wake Clara and tell her there has been an accident. Mr. Collins will need to be carried inside so he may be laid out in the parlor. We will see to the burial when Clara is ready.”
“Abby,” Sam shook his head, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I don’t think it was an accident.”
…coming Winter of 2016…
About the Author
Marie Silk has enjoyed writing stories in many genres since childhood. She lives with her family in the United States and frequently travels the globe to learn more about the world and the people in it. Marie is inspired by history and the feats of humanity from ancient civilization to present day. She is the author of the Davenport House family saga.
For contact details and information on upcoming releases, please visit: MarieSilk.com.
Cover art by SelfPubBookCovers.com/Saphira
Copyright © 2016 by Marie Silk
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-09973352-5-5 (ebook)
Marie Silk Publishing
P.O. Box 873
Hayden ID 83835
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