Davenport House 7: Hard Times Read online

  “How is the dinner for the rehearsal coming along, Fiona?” she asked.

  “Very well, Madam,” Fiona answered. “It will be a fine dinner indeed.”

  “Perfect,” Clara said, then she walked past the servants with Abigail following behind. As they went up the grand staircase, Clara told her, “I think I am going to lie down in my room and rest for awhile. It will be a long night and I want to be sure I look refreshed.”

  “I will tell the others that you are not to be disturbed,” Abigail replied. Clara retired to her bedroom for the day and Abigail went to her own room where Mary still lay on the bed.

  “Oh good, I hoped you would still be in bed when we returned. How are you?” Abigail asked.

  “I will be all right. Was Joe—?” Mary started to ask but Abigail shook her head.

  “When we got to the cottage, it was clear he was not there. Clara wants to continue with the rehearsal dinner tonight anyway.”

  “Oh dear. Should we stop her? Surely Joe would have sent word by now if he was delayed. He can’t still be coming, can he?” asked Mary.

  Abigail looked at her sadly. “I don’t think there will be a wedding, Mary.”

  Mary looked down at her lap. “I’ve almost thought about hiding the newspapers from Clara. Word is bound to get out, and that gossip writer is merciless. Clara would never recover after being publicly disgraced, especially with how hard she’s worked to rise in society. I am surprised we have not seen an article about Clara already…but it just makes me more nervous by the day.”

  “I think everyone here is more nervous by the day. The minister will be here tonight for the rehearsal unless Clara calls to cancel—but I don’t believe she will,” Abigail added in a whisper.

  Downstairs in the servants’ quarters, Jane was in the kitchen conversing with the cook. “What are we going to do with all this food if there’s not going to be a wedding?” she asked. Fiona and Mrs. Spencer walked into the kitchen just in time to hear Jane’s question.

  “Mrs. Spencer, how would you like to answer Jane? She will be taking orders from you soon enough,” Fiona said to her.

  Mrs. Spencer nodded and turned to the others in the kitchen. “What happens with all the food will be for the Mistress to decide,” she said gently to Jane. “It is not our job to wonder about what happens with the wedding, but only to see that Miss Clara is as happy and comfortable as possible. Now, these trays need to go upstairs to the ballroom. The tables have already been decorated.”

  Jane took two trays into her hands. “Yes, Mrs. Spencer,” she said.

  “Nicely done,” Fiona said with a smile to the new housekeeper.

  Mrs. Malone looked as though she had something to say about what was happening in the house, but she held her peace as she had learned to do over the years. The servants continued to ready the house for the wedding rehearsal and dinner that evening.

  When Serena arrived at the house with Gabriella, Fiona led them to the ballroom. “What a glorious room!” Gabriella shouted. “Is this where Miss Clara is getting married?”

  Fiona quietly left the room while Serena answered Gabriella. “It’s a wonderful room, isn’t it?”

  “Is it time to eat yet? I smell food,” Gabriella said.

  “I think we should sit in one of these chairs and stay quiet until we’re told to do something,” Serena replied.

  Upstairs in the house, Abigail knocked on Clara’s door. Jane, who was attending Clara that night, opened the door and exited the room. Abigail walked in hesitantly when she saw Clara sitting at her vanity table, still wearing her nightgown. “Clara, the minister is here. Serena and Gabriella are here too.”

  Clara’s lips quivered as she turned to look at Abigail. “They’re all downstairs waiting? Everyone?”

  It pained her to answer. “Everyone except for the groom.”

  Clara looked down at her vanity table. “I told Jane not to bother helping me dress tonight. I’m making a fool of myself, aren’t I? He’s not coming. Everyone knows it.”

  Abigail pulled up a chair to sit beside her. “I’m terribly sorry, Clara. I don’t understand what’s happened, but it is he who is the fool. Not you.”

  “What am I going to do, Abigail?” she asked, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t go down there and see everyone.”

  “And no one could expect you to. Don’t worry, dear. I will go downstairs and explain. You needn’t see anyone just now. Weddings get canceled all the time, you know.” Abigail rose from her chair.

  Clara groaned pathetically. “But no one has failed more times at getting married than I have. Mary must be embarrassed to live in the same house as me. I ruin everything.”

  Abigail leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Why don’t you lie down and rest. I will tell the servants that you decided to have dinner in your room.”

  “I’m not hungry, Abigail.”

  “Then the tray will be here in case you change your mind,” Abigail told her, then left the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

  When Abigail entered the ballroom downstairs, everyone looked at her expectantly. “I am sorry to announce that there will be no rehearsal taking place tonight. The wedding has been canceled.”

  Serena raised her eyebrows in surprise, but when she looked around the room at Mary and the others, she realized that she was the only one caught off guard. Fiona showed the minister to the door apologetically, but he seemed to be understanding.

  “I hope Clara will be all right,” Serena said to Mary after the minister left. “I am sorry to hear this news.”

  “I am sorry, too,” Mary admitted.

  “Should I stay to help with Violet tonight?” Serena questioned.

  “William is with her upstairs right now. He is not in the wedding party so he came home to be with her during the rehearsal dinner.”

  Serena hesitated for a moment. “Mary—um—if the wedding is not going to carry on as planned, then I wonder if I might have tomorrow to prepare for our journey to Pittsburgh. I was going to wait until after the wedding of course, but I am anxious to see my family again. I won’t take tomorrow off if it’s too much trouble, though.”

  Mary managed a smile. “You should go, Serena. I know how important it is to you.”

  “Thank you, Mary. I am truly grateful that you gave me employment. Lord knows our little family needed it. I hope you find someone to replace me very soon.”

  “I will pray for your safe travels with Angelina,” Mary said, holding back a yawn. “Serena, I’m feeling quite tired now and think I will retire early. Goodnight and have a lovely time with your parents.” Mary left the ballroom for the grand staircase.

  “I’m sorry about this,” Abigail told Serena and Gabriella. “I’ve just asked the servants to put the dinner into baskets for you to take home.”

  “That was kind of you, Abigail. Thank you,” Serena told her.

  “Thank you, Miss Abigail. We haven’t had good food in a long time. I’m starved!” Gabriella said honestly.

  “Well we can’t have you starving now, can we,” Abigail replied playfully.

  Serena spoke up. “Abigail, before I leave, I want to tell you that I am going to leave for Pittsburgh earlier than I anticipated. I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to see you again.”

  Abigail smiled at Serena and hugged her. “You may write to me any time. I want to hear how everything goes.”

  “I will write,” promised Serena. “Goodbye, Abigail.”

  “Goodbye.”

  The next day, the house was quiet. The servants took down the wedding decorations. Abigail cared for the babies while also taking charge of the house and instructing the servants. Clara stayed in her room, but peered out periodically throughout the day. She looked out just as the new housekeeper was walking past her door. “Mrs. Spencer?” Clara called after her.

  “Yes, Madam?” Mrs. Spencer answered eagerly.

  Clara handed her a paper. “You know the townspeople better than the o
ther servants. I would like you to personally see to it that my instructions here are followed to the letter.”

  Mrs. Spencer read over the list. “I’d be happy to, Madam. Is there anything else I may do for you?”

  “Just one thing,” Clara answered sadly, her voice breaking with emotion. “I don’t want to see anyone today. Except for—well if Joe comes back—I want to see him. But please tell the others that I am not to be disturbed.”

  “I will set your dinner tray on the console table just outside your door,” Mrs. Spencer said.

  Clara nodded while she looked at the floor, then she closed her bedroom door. Mrs. Spencer went downstairs with the list from Clara and overheard Abigail speaking to Fiona.

  “I will telephone the florist and caterers to explain that everything must be canceled,” she way saying.

  Mrs. Spencer spoke up. “Beg your pardon, Miss Abigail, but Miss Clara has given me instructions not to cancel the florist and catering services.”

  “Oh?” Abigail responded in surprise.

  “It’s all right, I will manage everything myself,” Mrs. Spencer assured her.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Spencer,” Abigail said, beginning to feel relief that her own duties might be lessened.

  “Miss Clara also asks—” Mrs. Spencer proceeded, “—that no one visit her room today or disturb her in any way—unless it’s Mr. Joe coming back.”

  “Yes, I see,” Abigail answered slowly.

  “I’ll inform the others,” Fiona said, stifling a yawn.

  “Why don’t you go home now, Fiona. I can take everything from here,” Mrs. Spencer offered.

  Fiona smiled gratefully and prepared to go home to her cabin. Abigail went upstairs to continue tending to the children, and Mrs. Spencer took care of everything else, just as she said she would.

  Later that evening, Mary went downstairs to the library to find a different book to read. She was startled to find Clara sitting in the dark on the floor of the library. “Clara—I didn’t realize you were in here. Is there anything I may do for you?”

  Clara did not answer. She appeared to be staring at the inside of the iron vault where important documents and valuables were stored. Mary wondered if she should say anything more since it appeared that Clara would rather be alone. Mary quietly chose a book and turned to leave the library. She heard the sound of the vault closing behind her, then Clara’s voice speaking. “Oh hello, Mary. I was just checking something.”

  Mary turned to look at her, but Clara stared straight ahead as if in a daze. She walked past Mary and went up the staircase to her room. Mary went up the staircase herself and hoped that Clara would be all right the next day—the day the wedding had been scheduled to take place.

  The next morning, Abigail went to Mary’s room to help care for Violet. “Mary, you look exhausted,” she remarked. “Didn’t you get any sleep last night?”

  Mary closed her book and tried to answer, but a yawn escaped instead. “I’m afraid I was never able to fall asleep,” she answered, but felt guilty that Abigail was doing all the work while she lay in bed. “I can take her today, Abigail. I must get used to it anyway now that Serena won’t be coming back and you’re leaving tomorrow.”

  Abigail held the baby out to Mary. “It’s no trouble at all,” Abigail assured her. “Ethan is caring for little Patrick in our room, and I do miss holding a baby this small.”

  When Mary took Violet from Abigail’s arms, she winced in pain. “Oh dear. I fear that I really injured myself yesterday when I helped Clara from her chair.”

  “Let me see how your healing is progressing. We should make sure that none of the stitches came open.”

  Mary nodded while Abigail placed the baby back into the cradle. Abigail sighed in disappointment when she checked Mary. “The bruising looks worse today. You must stay in bed and not do anything strenuous. Have you spoken to William yet?”

  “No,” Mary said timidly. “I know that I should, I just hoped it would be better now that I am resting more. I only wish the pain was not so bad that it kept me up all night.”

  “I’m going to make you some herbal tea that will help you sleep,” Abigail told her. “And don’t even think about going downstairs to the dining room today. The maids will bring your meals to you.”

  “If you insist,” Mary acquiesced. After drinking the herbal tea, Mary slept through the afternoon while Abigail cared for the children. As dinnertime neared, Abigail plopped down on her bed from exhaustion. “I’m so glad the little ones are finally asleep,” she said to Ethan. “Is this what it’s like to have two babies? I don’t know how my mother managed it with eleven of us.”

  Ethan chuckled. “I thought you said you wanted to have at least as many children as your mother.”

  Abigail crossed her arms over her chest playfully. “Perhaps I’ve changed my mind.” There was a knock at Abigail’s door just then. She rose from the bed and opened the door to see Mrs. Spencer. When Abigail saw the newspaper she held in her arm, she grew instantly nervous. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Spencer?”

  “I thought you might like to know that Miss Clara was in the newspaper today,” she answered.

  Abigail felt her heart sink and took the paper from the housekeeper. “Thank you for telling me,” she whispered. Mrs. Spencer nodded and left down the hallway. Abigail closed the door and read the paper quickly.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Ethan.

  Abigail’s heart raced as she skimmed over the article in the gossip column, but her frown slowly changed to an astounded smile. “Oh—it’s nothing like I thought it would be at all. It’s actually quite good!” She gave the paper to Ethan to read.

  WAS CLARA DAVENPORT BEHIND THE YORKTOWN GIFT BASKETS?

  Rumor has it that the anonymous donor behind numerous gifts of meals and flower arrangements was none other than Clara Davenport of Davenport House. Families of servicemen and war widows across the county were surprised by gift baskets of fine foods and flower bouquets delivered straight to their doors yesterday evening. Rather than let anything from her canceled event go to waste, Miss Davenport seems to have made lemons into lemonade for the good of the town.

  Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’ll be! Clara will be glad to see this.”

  “I must show her this minute,” Abigail said excitedly. “Oh dear, but she said she does not want to see anyone. Perhaps I can slide the paper under her door so she is not disturbed.” Abigail left the room and went to Clara’s bedroom door down the hallway. She saw the untouched lunch tray that was set on the console table by the door. Abigail thought about laying the newspaper next to the tray, but noticed that Clara’s bedroom door was ajar. From the doorway, Abigail could see the canopy bed neatly made in the center of the room, but Clara was nowhere in sight. Jane approached from the servants’ stairs just then and removed the lunch tray from the console table. “Is Clara downstairs?” Abigail asked her.

  “Miss Clara hasn’t left her room,” Jane answered.

  “Then you haven’t gone in to make her bed?”

  “Miss Clara gave strict instructions to be left alone. No one has been in her room or seen her since last night.”

  “I see. Thank you, Jane,” Abigail said, and she watched Jane walk away with the tray. Her heart pounded as she pushed the door the rest of the way open. “Clara?” she called, tiptoeing into the bedroom. She looked through the large windows on the other side of the room and could see that Clara’s car was still parked in the driveway. Her gaze then settled upon a white envelope that lay against a pillow on the bed. Abigail had a feeling of dread as she picked up the envelope and read the words on the outside.

  Dear Mary,

  I pray that you and God will forgive me for the committing the unforgivable.

  Clara

  Abigail hurried back to Ethan with the envelope. “I think something terrible is happening,” she sputtered. “Clara is not in her room and the servants haven’t seen her. She left this addressed to Mary.”

&nbs
p; Ethan read the words on the envelope and immediately opened it to read the papers inside. He looked at Abigail solemnly. “It’s her Last Will and Testament. We need to find her before she does anything.” Ethan searched the house for Clara while Abigail went outside to find her brother Sam.

  The rainy day was rapidly turning dark and stormy. Sam was busy returning the horses to the stable.

  “Sam, have you seen Clara?” Abigail asked him frantically.

  “Miss Clara told me she was taking a walk this morning before it started raining,” he answered. “She’s not back yet?”

  “No she hasn’t come back and I am worried for her. Which way did she go?”

  Sam pointed in the direction of the woods. “Let’s take the horses and find her quick. The weather is getting bad real fast.” The sound of crackling thunder startled both of them as they saddled the horses.

  Ethan came running out to the stable just then. “She’s not in the house,” he shouted over the sound of the pouring rain.

  “Sam said that she went for a walk this morning and never came back,” cried Abigail. “She went through the woods.”

  Ethan quickly saddled a horse for himself. “Sam, go see if you can find her at Joe’s house. I’ll take the trail through the woods. Abigail, stay with the children. You shouldn’t be out here in this storm.” He could see how distraught she was when he told her to stay behind. “Don’t worry, me and Sam will find her even if it takes all night.” He rode off into the rain while Abigail returned to the house.

  Ethan remembered to search at the family cemetery where Clara’s mother and father were buried. He found barefoot prints in the mud near the graves that led back into the woods. The thunder roared around him and the rain drenched him down to his boots. He rode to the end of the estate where a barbed wire fence surrounded the perimeter. He was about to turn back, but his gaze caught a piece of material on the fence, flapping in the wind. When Ethan got closer, he realized the material was fabric from Clara’s dress. It was stained with blood. Ethan felt sick to his stomach as he looked around him, doing his best to guess where to go next. He went with his instinct and left his horse in a nearby outbuilding so he could climb over the barbed wire. On the other side of the fence was a hill that led down to a rushing river. Something in Ethan’s heart told him that Clara would be there. His boots slid in the mud as he made his way down the hill to the bank of the river. It was dark, but he could see a figure sitting on the ground near the water. It was Clara, soaked in rain and mud.