Hall of Secrets (A Benedict Hall Novel) (30 page)

C
HAPTER
29

Blake met them at the train station with a formal, “Welcome home, Dr. Margot. Major Parrish.”

Margot and Frank, grinning like children, could only just restrain themselves from hugging him right there in the center of King Street Station. Blake said, “You both look very well.”

“Blake, it was marvelous!” Margot said. “So relaxing. I think every honeymoon should begin with a train journey.”

“I gather you enjoyed yourselves, then.”

“More than I could have imagined!” she said. “I can’t remember the last vacation I took.”

“That might be because you haven’t taken one in years.”

Frank insisted on helping Blake with their bags, and Margot thought Blake was indulging him, under the circumstances. When they were on their way up the hill to Broadway, she leaned forward from the backseat. “Blake, Frank took me up in an airplane! One of the Jennys, at March Field. It was absolutely the most exciting thing I’ve ever done.”

“That sounds wonderful. I envy you,” Blake said in his dignified way.

“Would you like to fly, Blake?” Frank asked. “I could arrange that.”

Blake drew a breath to answer, but Margot burst out, “Now, don’t say no automatically. Think about this, Blake. It’s the most amazing experience—the wind in your face, and the wings vibrating around you—it’s like being a bird! You just leave everything behind, all the silly things people think are so important. Everything’s tiny and far away, and none of it seems to matter very much at all.”

She could see the curve of Blake’s cheek, and she knew he was smiling. “Very well, Dr. Margot. I won’t say no. If Major Parrish finds it convenient sometime . . .”

“It would be my pleasure, Blake,” Frank said. He found Margot’s hand and held it. “I think I’ve become the Boeing Airplane Company’s expert on the Flying Jennys.”

The staff was waiting when they reached Benedict Hall. The day was typically Seattle, weak shafts of March sunshine illuminating a misting rain. All three maids stood under the shelter of the porch roof, and Hattie, in a freshly ironed apron and wearing an enormous smile, stood with them. Ramona was there, her pregnancy evident even from the street, and Allison, bouncing on her toes with excitement. Only Edith was missing, but Margot hardly noticed. She had become used to her mother’s absences.

Blake stopped in front of the house and got out, leaning on his cane, to open the back doors of the Essex. When Frank said, “Let me get the bags, Blake,” he shook his head.

“No, sir. I’ll bring them in from the garage, Major Parrish, and see they’re carried up to your rooms. You go and say hello to the family.”

They were soon all seated in the small parlor, and Hattie sent Loena in with a tea tray. Margot and Frank handed out the gifts they’d brought, including a silk scarf for each of the maids, which they sent back to the kitchen with Loena.

“Your wedding gifts are stowed in the large parlor, Margot,” Ramona said. “You and Frank can open them when you have time. I had thank-you cards printed for you, but not too many, in case you don’t like the paper I chose.”

“Thank you, Ramona. I’m sure I’ll love it. I don’t have any idea how to do that sort of thing.”

“Actually, I wasn’t sure . . . they’re printed in the names of Major and Mrs. Frank Parrish. Was that all right?”

Margot smiled at Frank, and reached across to touch Ramona’s hand. “Perfect,” she said. “It’s just perfect. I’ll be Dr. Benedict when I’m working, but Mrs. Parrish everywhere else.”

“Well,” Ramona said, relieved, smiling. “That sounds like a sensible arrangement. Good for you, Margot!”

Margot picked up her teacup and eyed her sister-in-law over the rim. “You look really good, Ramona. You’re feeling well?”

“Perfect! Two and a half months to go. We’re doing up the room next to ours as a nursery. It’s big enough so the nurse will be able to sleep in there, too.”

“Goodness! Benedict Hall is going to have a huge staff.”

“Yes, but Blake says it’s fine. We’ve kept Thelma on, as you saw, to help Hattie.”

“Good.” Margot glanced at Frank. “Leona went up to unpack for us. I hope that was all right with you.”

“Takes some getting used to,” he said. “But I’m sure she’ll make a better job of it than I usually do.”

Margot set her cup down. “Is Mother all right?” she asked Ramona.

Ramona’s smile faded, and she linked her hands over her swelling abdomen. “Something happened,” she said. “Just this morning, actually. I don’t know what it was.”

“Really? She seemed to enjoy the wedding. It brought her out of herself a bit, and I thought perhaps she was getting better.”

“I did, too, or at least I hoped so. But this morning—she was in your old room, after breakfast, helping the twins to clear out the last of your things, and—I don’t know what it was. Leona said she had something in her hands, and she went into Preston’s room and locked the door. She hasn’t come out.”

Margot’s mouth went dry, and her heart began to pound. She rose, and tried to smooth the creases from the skirt of her traveling dress. “I think I’d better go up.” Frank started to get up, too, but she waved him back. “No, you stay. Tell Allison about the seals we saw from the train.”

Anxiety churned in her stomach as she climbed the staircase. Where had she left it? She had just jammed it into a bottom drawer after that terrible night, when she was too tired to think, too emotionally drained to plan anything, and then she had forgotten all about it. There had been the rather lovely Christmas, with the excitement of her engagement. She had been busy all of January with the Women and Infants Clinic, her own clinic on Post Street, and the wedding preparations. She had spent every spare moment with Frank, going to her bedroom only to sleep or to change. Frank had repaired the gouged-out hole in the footings of her clinic, and the shrubs were budding now, stretching their branches up toward the wintry sun. They would soon hide the foundation.

Preston had been on her mind, of course. She planned a visit to Western State Hospital after she had seen to things at her clinic, picked up rounds again at Seattle General. She had written to Dr. Keller explaining her concerns about Preston’s medication, requesting that someone have a look at his scars, but she thought it would be best to follow up in person.

But the sapphire—she had put the stone out of her mind. She had forgotten all about it.

She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders before knocking on Preston’s door. “Mother? It’s Margot. We’re home, Frank and I.” She raised her hand to knock again.

The door flew open before her knuckles struck the wood. Edith stood before her, wild-eyed, graying hair disheveled, cheeks flaming. She stood taller than she had in months, and her voice rang out in a way it hadn’t in more than a year. “What have you done to Preston?” she demanded.

Margot said, “What? What do you mean, Mother?”

Edith held out the chunk of concrete, lifting it up in her two hands so the half-buried sapphire gleamed blue in the light from the hall. Edith’s eyes blazed a matching blue fire. “Where is he, Margot? Why are you hiding my son from me?”

Margot slumped against the doorjamb. She couldn’t think how to answer.

 

Within the hour they were on their way to the hospital. A terse telephone call to Dickson’s office had brought him swiftly home, and he was closeted with Edith for no more than ten minutes before emerging with a thunderous expression to tell Blake they would be taking the Essex out again. Margot made another telephone call, but she had to put her father on before obtaining permission to see Preston immediately.

Dickson said, “You don’t have to come, daughter.”

“I do,” she said. “If Mother—that is, you might need me.” She had her medical bag, and after Frank helped her with her coat and she had put on her hat and gloves, she carried it with her to the waiting automobile. Dread made her stomach roil.

Frank repeated, “Margot, I can come with you.”

“No, darling,” she said. “Father and I can manage. You go on to the Red Barn.”

“Be careful, Margot.”

She nodded. “I will. It’s Mother I’m worried about.”

Edith was so frantic to depart, once she heard where Preston was, that it took both Margot and Dickson to persuade her to take the time to put on her coat and gloves. In the backseat of the Essex, she sat twisting her hands together and asking, over and over, “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dickson said, glancing at Margot above Edith’s head, “He’s terribly scarred, Edith. You will hardly know him. We thought—in your fragile state—”

“My state,” she said in a brittle voice, “has been fragile because everyone said my son was dead, but I knew, I
knew
. You’ve all been lying to me, deceiving me!”

“No, Mother,” Margot said, a little more loudly than she intended. “That’s not true. We didn’t know Preston was alive until just before Christmas.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Edith, calm yourself. Try to listen,” Dickson said

She shook her head, and twisted and twisted her hands. “I don’t understand. He was burned; he’s been suffering. He needs me, and you didn’t
tell
me!”

It did no good to explain that Preston hadn’t wanted her to know. It seemed pointless to relate the story of that long night when he had seized Allison and nearly killed his sister and himself. Edith talked on and on, asking, pleading, accusing, and by the time they reached the hospital, Margot was debating with herself over whether she should give her mother a sedative before she saw Preston. This time she kept her medical bag with her as they crossed the grounds of the hospital and went up the steps between the sandstone pillars.

Edith finally fell silent when they stepped inside the echoing entrance hall. Margot wanted to hold her arm, to steady her, but Edith wriggled free and watched with fierce attention as Dickson walked to the office and spoke to the secretary there. A moment later Dr. Keller himself, with Mr. Small in attendance, came out to escort them. They went up in the elevator and emerged onto the ward, where a nurse—a different one this time, younger, less mild in her speech and movements—came to meet them.

“We’ll bring the patient to you,” the nurse said, with a gesture to Mr. Small.

Edith said, “No! No, I want to go to his room.”

“Mother,” Margot warned. “I want to prepare you for—”

Edith turned on her with a sound so much like a cat’s hiss that Margot fell back a step before she could catch herself. “Haven’t you done
enough?
” her mother cried. “Haven’t you caused
enough
trouble, Margot?”

Margot was aware of Dr. Keller’s attention on them, and the nurse was poised, one hand in the air, as if she might need to seize someone or something. Mr. Small, stolid and silent, folded his arms, watching and listening.

Dickson, with a weary sigh, put his arm around his wife. “All right, Edith,” he said. “That’s enough, now. It’s not Margot’s fault. You mustn’t speak to her that way.”

Edith pulled away from him. “You always take her side, Dickson. Now leave me alone. I want to see my son.”

There seemed to be nothing for it but to allow her, with the nurse at her side and Dr. Keller and Mr. Small just behind, to walk down the long corridor. The ward was oddly silent today, and Margot suspected the sedatives had been increased when Keller learned they were coming. She heard mumbled voices here and there, an occasional querulous call, but that was all. She and her father came last, and Margot wished she didn’t have to go at all. Keller had no medical bag with him, but she kept hers close, thinking of what she might be able to do if her mother fainted, or had hysterics, or, God forbid, suffered a breakdown when she saw Preston’s scarred face.

The nurse lifted the heavy ring of keys at her waist and sifted through them for the correct one. Edith fidgeted impatiently beside her, calling, “Preston? Preston, are you there?”

Margot heard, from inside the cell, her brother give a prolonged groan of recognition. The lock clicked, and the nurse began to pull the door open. Edith started to push past her, and Margot, alarmed, took two long strides, to go into the cell with her mother whether she wanted her there or not. It was going to be a ghastly shock. Edith had never been good at shocks.

The door was open. Edith stepped through and stopped abruptly, one hand pressed over her mouth, gazing at Preston. He was standing by the barred window, the weak sunlight falling full on his disfigured face, the ridges and whorls of his burn scars, the distortion of his mouth, the absence of his eyebrows and most of his hair.

He said, “Mother. Oh, God.”

Edith said, in a tone of pure grief, “Oh, Preston. Preston, son. My poor, poor darling.” She put out both her arms, crossed the cell, and took Preston in her arms. She cradled his head and caressed his scarred skull, murmuring over and over, “Oh, my poor darling. How awful for you. My poor, poor darling.”

C
HAPTER
30

Allison didn’t know for certain how long she’d been asleep. It was still dark when she heard footsteps in the hall and on the stairs, doors opening and closing. Light showed beneath her bedroom door, punctuated by moving shadows as people walked to and fro. She sat up, wondering what was happening. A moment later she heard Margot’s deep, calm voice, and Cousin Dick answering her. Someone groaned, a sound that seemed louder because of the strange hour.

Ramona! The baby!

She scrambled out of bed and seized her dressing gown from its hook. She found her slippers with difficulty, one buried deep under the bed and the other tossed under her dressing table, and she opened her door to listen.

Downstairs, Cousin Dick was speaking on the hall telephone. From Ramona’s bedroom, she heard Margot and Ramona talking in normal voices, as if the groan of a few minutes before hadn’t happened. From the other big bedroom, where Uncle Dickson and Aunt Edith slept, there was no sound, but below stairs, she heard the muted bang of the kitchen door, and knew that someone had roused Blake.

Allison moved tentatively to the door of Ramona’s bedroom. She had never actually been in it, but she could see the end of a big bed with a dark comforter on it, and catch a glimpse of Margot’s back as she bent forward. Allison rapped gently on the open door. “Cousin Ramona? Cousin Margot? Is there anything I can do?”

Margot straightened and beckoned to her. “Oh, yes, come in, Allison. You can sit with Ramona while I go and get dressed. Her labor’s started, but it’s going to be some time yet before baby comes.” She did something with her hands, and Allison realized she had been wearing surgical gloves, which she was now stripping off. “I’ll be right back.”

Ramona, in a nest of pillows, smiled a bit palely at Allison, and patted the bed beside her. “Do come sit with me, Allison. I’ve just had a few pains, and Margot says I’m in for a bit of a wait.”

“Did it—do they hurt a lot?” Allison said, sinking down beside Ramona.

“Yes!” Ramona said, on a ghost of a laugh. “Yes, they hurt, but I keep thinking how much I want the baby, and . . .” She winced and pressed her lips together. Color rose in her face and receded almost as quickly, and the same groan Allison had heard earlier came from her, a deep sound she wouldn’t have thought Ramona, so delicate and feminine, could produce. A moment later the pain seemed to pass. Ramona breathed a sigh and lay back on her pillows.

Allison tried to imagine her mother going through this, riding a pain like that without crying out or screaming or weeping, but she couldn’t do it. She took Ramona’s hand in hers, not knowing what else to do. “You’re so brave,” she whispered.

“Oh, no,” Ramona said. “Not brave at all. I’m really frightened, Allison. But this is what women do, isn’t it? Everyone else has done it, and I can, too.” She closed her eyes and breathed carefully in, then out. “Whew. This is going to be hard work.”

“Is Dr. Creedy coming?”

“He’s busy with an emergency at the hospital. And in the meantime, I have Margot. Thank goodness.”

“Oh, yes. I think Margot must be the best doctor in the whole city!”

She knew Ramona had chosen to have her baby at home, in Benedict Hall, instead of going to the hospital. Margot thought it was a good idea, as long as there were no complications—whatever those might be—and apparently Dr. Creedy didn’t mind, either. Ramona had confided to Allison that she didn’t want to have her baby at the hospital because she had heard so many stories of babies getting mixed up. Allison didn’t think that sounded right, but she didn’t say anything. She wanted Ramona—all of them—to trust her. Instead, wondering about the issue, she had gone to Hattie.

She had fallen into the habit of taking all her embarrassing questions to Hattie. When her monthlies reappeared, she asked Hattie where to get supplies, and Hattie accompanied her to Bartell’s on the streetcar so she could buy Lister’s Towels. When she wanted to get rid of the plaid frock and two others that had always been too tight, she asked Hattie if she knew of someone who could use them. Hattie took them from her, and said she would take them to the jumble sale at the church. When she was trying to understand the Women and Infants Clinic, it was Hattie who explained that Cousin Margot and that pretty Sarah Church were teaching poor women how not to have babies, and when Allison frowned and asked how you could do that, Hattie explained it to her in succinct and specific terms. Allison had blushed hotly, over and over, but she didn’t mind that too much in front of Hattie. She tried not to think about Cousin Margot and Major Parrish on their honeymoon, and what that must be like, but sometimes it bothered her. Hattie only patted her shoulder and said not to worry, that when it was her time and she met a man she really loved, it would all sort itself out.

To the question of babies getting mixed up in the hospital, Hattie only chuckled and shook her head. “There are lots of good reasons to have babies at home, though,” she said. “It helps that we’re here to take care of Mrs. Ramona when her time comes.”

And now, here it was. Here was Cousin Ramona, about to give birth. It was exciting, and it was scary. And it must be messy, because Margot brought in a basin and a stack of clean towels and an enormous sheet she spread over the bed, tucking it under Ramona and covering the pillows. She also had her medical bag, but when she saw Ramona looking at it, she said, “Just a precaution, Ramona. You’re doing beautifully, and baby’s head is down, just as we want it. Everything looks perfect.”

Much better than being in a hospital, Allison was sure. Hospitals were so cold and noisy and impersonal. Here, in Ramona’s pretty bedroom with its thick velvet curtains and family pictures arranged on the bureau, surely here she could concentrate on what she needed to do.

When the next pain came, Ramona scowled, closed her eyes, and emitted that deep groan again. She gripped Allison’s hand, and Allison gripped back, breathing and scowling just as Ramona did. When the pain passed, Ramona sighed and asked for water. Allison looked a question at Margot, who nodded. “Just a sip,” she said. “We don’t want anything extra in there with baby just now.”

 

Allison went down to breakfast at Margot’s urging. She found everyone at the table. Uncle Dickson was reading his paper, as usual, though he looked up anxiously when Allison came in. Aunt Edith was nibbling at her breakfast and looking as if she wasn’t quite sure what was happening. Frank was just finishing his coffee, but Dick was pushing with his fork at the stack of griddle cakes on his plate, and it didn’t look as if he had eaten anything. He jumped when Allison appeared, as if he was ready to fly up the stairs at a moment’s notice.

Allison sat down next to him, in Ramona’s usual chair, and Thelma set a plate in front of her while Loena poured her coffee. When the servants had left the room, Allison said, “Don’t worry, Cousin Dick. Margot says Ramona’s doing fine.”

Uncle Dickson said, “Good, good. I’m glad you’re lending a hand, Allison. Good girl.”

“It’s just taking so long!” Dick groaned. He gave up pretending to eat his breakfast, laying down his fork and slumping in his chair. “Should it take so long?”

Aunt Edith said, “What, dear? Do you need more coffee?”

“Mother!” Dick exclaimed.

Allison said, “Aunt Edith, Cousin Ramona is having her baby. It started last night.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Edith said and put a bite of griddle cake in her mouth.

Frank wrinkled his nose at Allison and gave a slight shrug, but Dick blew out an anxious breath and rubbed his forehead with his palm.

Uncle Dickson folded his paper and laid it beside his plate. “You were a long time coming, too, Dick,” he said. He smiled at his eldest son, and Allison felt a twinge of envy at the affection between them. Uncle Dickson went on, “I walked the floor for hours, waiting to hear something from upstairs.” He pointed at the ceiling. “Right up there, they were, in our bedroom, your mother, her maid, and the doctor. I thought I’d go mad with worry, and in the middle of everything the doctor came down and ate a leisurely luncheon as if nothing at all were happening. I still remember,” he added with a laugh, “that ham sandwich he was having. For months afterward I couldn’t look at a ham sandwich!”

“Margot says she’ll stay with Cousin Ramona until Dr. Creedy comes,” Allison offered.

“Why isn’t he here now?” Dick demanded. Allison had never heard him sound so querulous. It made her feel very grown-up and important that she was sitting with Cousin Ramona when her own husband wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near her. She had thought the whole thing would be upsetting, but it seemed marvelous instead, an important task, a life-changing event, and it was all being handled by women.

She said, “Cousin Margot spoke to Dr. Creedy on the telephone. He has to do a surgery, evidently, but Margot said she would stay.” She unfolded her napkin and said with pride, “Margot and I have been with Cousin Ramona all night.”

Frank nodded appreciation of this.

Uncle Dickson said, “Very good, my dear. I’m sure you’re a great help.” He pushed back his chair and stood up. “I’ll be off, Dick. Telephone me when you have some news.”

Allison was just coming out of the dining room when she heard Margot, from the head of the stairs, calling her name. She drew a swift breath and dashed up the staircase. “Is everything all right?” she whispered when she reached the second floor. “Is Ramona—?”

Margot was just pulling on a pair of fresh surgical gloves, and Allison saw that her dress was spattered with water, as if she had been washing her hands. “We’re going to have a baby soon,” she said, without alarm. “I don’t think Ramona is waiting for Dr. Creedy.”

“Oh! Oh!” Allison cried. She started toward the bedroom, then stopped. “What—what do I do?”

“You don’t have to help,” Margot said, snapping the gloves down over her forearms. “But if you think you’ll be all right, it would be nice for Ramona to have you there.”

“I’ll be all right,” Allison said, and though her nerves quivered at the mystery of what was to come, she was certain it was true. If Ramona could do this, and Margot could help her, how could she do any less?

“Go and let Hattie know first, will you, please? Hattie will know what we need.”

Allison did as she asked, hurrying down the staircase once more to knock on the kitchen door. “Hattie,” she said breathlessly, “Cousin Margot says the baby is coming!”

“Oh, my Lord,” Hattie exclaimed. She tossed the dish towel she was holding over the edge of the sink. “Leona, Loena, you’ll do these dishes and clear the dining room. I’m going to collect a few things and go on up to Mrs. Ramona.”

Allison flew back up the stairs and met Margot in the hall. “We’re here,” she said breathlessly. “That is, Hattie’s on her way.
I’m
here.”

“Excellent,” Margot said, with a calm that amazed Allison. Her own heart was beating like a drum in her chest, and her hands trembled with nerves. Margot said, “Now, Allison, we still have some time. Just remember, if you feel faint, move away from the bed. Get to a chair, or—” She smiled to soften her words. “Or just faint on the floor! We’ll pick you up, but we don’t want you toppling over onto Ramona.”

Allison said, with confidence, “Oh, I won’t feel faint. I promise.” She hurried to the head of the bed, where Ramona lay panting and perspiring. “Cousin Ramona, I’m right here! Give me your hand, and squeeze all you like. We’re going to have a baby!”

 

Just as Margot had said, there was some time to go. Ramona alternated between drowsing and mumbling words that didn’t always make sense, but which Allison and Hattie answered just the same. When the pains came, Ramona came fully alert, her eyes narrowed, her face contorting and her breathing fast and shallow. She often made the deep groan Allison had first noticed, but when the pain passed, she relaxed, exhaling, closing her eyes while Allison bathed her forehead with a water and vinegar solution Hattie had prepared.

Near lunchtime, Margot went down to the dining room, leaving Allison and Hattie to keep Ramona company. When Margot returned, she sent Hattie down. “Leona’s doing very well with ham-and-cheese sandwiches, Hattie, so you go and have some. Allison, you, too. I’ll be with Ramona.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Allison said. “In case the baby comes while I’m not here!”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Margot said.

Ramona whispered, “I’m ready now!”

Margot chuckled and patted her thigh. She examined her again and said, “Soon, now, Ramona. I know you’re getting tired, but you’re doing very well. It won’t be much longer.” She waved Allison out, indicating ten minutes with her raised fingers. Allison gave Ramona’s hand a last pat and hurried down the staircase.

She found Dick there. He jumped to his feet when he saw her, and she gave him her best reassuring smile. “Cousin Margot says everything’s going well, Cousin Dick. It will happen soon, she says.”

“Thank God,” he muttered. He looked haggard, his cheeks flushed but his lips pinched at the corners.

Allison considered him, her head tipped to one side. “I think Cousin Ramona looks better than you do just now,” she said.

He rewarded her with a laugh. “It’s so hard just waiting,” he said. He was at the table, a half-eaten sandwich on a plate in front of him. “If only there was something I could
do
.”

“Why not go out and buy some flowers?” Allison suggested. “Cousin Ramona would love that, once the baby is here.”

Dick said, “Allison, that’s a damned good idea,” and was gone from the dining room almost before she realized she had given an adult her advice, and he had actually taken it.

She was just finishing her own sandwich when Hattie came in. “Miss Allison, Miss Margot wants you.” In a good imitation of Dick’s speedy retreat, Allison was up from the table and dashing up the stairs almost before Hattie finished speaking.