The House of Closed Doors (32 page)

“And what else does Mrs. Lombardi have to say?” Martin stretched his legs and yawned behind his hand. “You said that she had news.”

“Tess misses me dreadfully.” I sat down on the red velvet settee, feeling my shoulders slump in dejection. I also missed Tess. Although no great conversationalist, she had a way of saying droll and direct things that made me smile or gave me cause to reflect.

And my mood was not improved by the lack of useful employment in our well-run home. In truth, I was bored. I longed for real work. At the Poor Farm there had been a constant list of items of clothing or bed linen to be made or mended, and I had directed Tess and Edie in their work as well. My days had been full and lively, from the communal face-washing and bed-making in the morning to evening prayer. Despite the plain food, the bizarre behavior of some of the inmates and the lack of privacy that I had experienced there, I found that I missed my erstwhile place of confinement.

I ran my fingers over the very small ruffles on the front of my mourning dress and found myself wishing that I were wearing the cheap calico I had sewn myself for summer at the Farm. What good was my finery? I hardly dared go out in Victory for fear of people asking impertinent questions and staring hard at Sarah, trying to divine the identity of her father. It was fortunate that her baby fat obscured her features and that in most lights her eyes were still more blue than green. I was surprised that Martin had not yet made the connection with Jack; but I supposed that gentlemen did not pay close attention to the eyes of their male acquaintances.

“I am going to Chicago tomorrow and spending a few days there,” Martin announced, shifting his position so that he could draw his legs up and lean forward. “To look at winter wools, hats, all the furbelows of the season, you know. And I will make a point of calling on one of the police commissioners‌—‌State Street will probably be the closest.”

I felt a sudden jolt of fear and hope. “Are they likely to believe you? They may not even need to see me.”

“Perhaps. I really do not know. I have little experience in the realm of murder. Nell, however you may feel, please do not let your mood affect your Mama. Hiram will be off on his travels soon, is that not what Bet said? Even if you are finding life in Victory dull, you are reunited with your mother, and you must make the most of this time together.”

I nodded without speaking, looking at Martin from under my lashes. His face was grave. I knew what he thought, and I feared it too. Mama was getting worse.

FORTY-ONE

M
y stepfather’s face also held an expression of concern whenever he looked at Mama, but that did not stop him from setting off to North Carolina. He did, though, leave earlier than he had expected and promised to be back soon. For Mama’s sake I imprinted a cold kiss on his cheek as he took his leave of us.

And then he was gone, and Martin was away, and Mama and I sat and talked all day, mostly about Sarah. As active and wayward as my daughter was becoming, she seemed to behave more calmly when she sat on her grandmother’s lap. She would sit for several minutes at a time gazing solemnly into Mama’s eyes and then favor her with one of her dimpled, carefree smiles. When she was not with my mother, I had learned to read that smile as a forewarning of mischief; it often preceded a sudden lunge or, if she were on the floor, a surprisingly fast roll toward the object of her desires. If she could not get the object into her mouth, she would pull on it, hard. The long, fringed cloths that had previously been draped over all the tables had now been replaced with rectangles of damask, while my mother’s china knickknacks moved from the tables onto the shelves. And I had learned not to turn my back on my baby daughter for a second. She was, as Bet declared, “a rare ’un.”

And then, one morning, Mama found that she did not care to get out of bed. Bet was pinning her hat onto her bushy hair almost before the word “doctor” came out of my mouth.

“Shouldn’t you send Marie?” Respectable housekeepers did not run errands if they had a subordinate to do them.

“I’ll be quicker and a sight more persuasive.” Bet spoke rapidly as she fumbled with the buttons of her gloves. I nodded. As stout as Bet was, she could walk very fast, and no doctor would dare claim to her face that he was too busy to see Mama. “I’ll take the trail through the woods.” I listened to her boots clatter their way down to the gate, thinking only after she had gone that maybe she should have asked Mr. Drehler for a loan of his buggy. She was following the path my father had taken all those years ago.

“Bet has gone for the doctor,” I said as lightly as I could when, having tended to Sarah, I was able to return to Mama’s side.

She smiled her usual radiant smile, although her face was pale and her eyes tired. “Nell, you are such a goose. I am merely rather sleepy and stupid this morning. The hot weather does not suit me; I am sure that when the fall arrives I will feel much better.”

But the doctor shook his head at me when he left Mama’s room and closed the door. And Mama did not leave her bed the next day or the day after that.

M
y newfound status as an adult did not prevent me from flying for comfort into Martin’s arms when he came to see us. He held me tight to him for a brief moment and then pushed me gently away, dabbing at my cheeks with his large, clean handkerchief.

“She wanders in her mind.” My voice was hoarse with suppressed tears. “Sometimes she thinks my father is still alive.”

“Has anyone sent for Hiram?”

I shook my head. “We‌—‌we‌—‌he left no forwarding address at the store. Martin, I always thought he was going to North Carolina on store business, but they know nothing of the purpose of his travels. Only that he goes there often, usually when there is a large bill to be paid. What do you think it means?”

Martin was leading the way up the stairs toward my mother’s bedroom. He stopped at the door, looking down at me.

“It may mean nothing‌—‌or everything. Nell, he never gave himself away as a killer until you faced him down. Who knows what other secrets he may have?”

T
he cheerful expression that Martin had kept on his face faded as soon as he stepped out of my mother’s room and shut the door gently. “She’s settling to sleep.”

I bounced Sarah on my arm and shushed her. The loud crowing sounds she was making became soft gurgles, and I turned away from the door and led the way downstairs.

“I spoke to the police commissioner in Chicago,” said Martin as soon as he had shut the parlor door.

I nodded, but his words barely penetrated my brain. Just a few days ago it had seemed so important to bring Hiram to justice. Now all my energies were concentrated into one thought.
Please, Mama, get better. Do not leave me.

“He was interested in what I had to say and did not disbelieve me.” Martin seemed to be talking just for the sake of it. “He has no jurisdiction up here, you understand, but he says he will send a reliable man‌—‌not a police officer but some kind of private agent‌—‌to look into the matter.”

I felt a vague sense of relief. If the worst happened… if Mama… then there might be some hope left of staying safe from Hiram. If he thought I was friendless, what might he do? There was Martin, of course, but Hiram misjudged Martin. He held the opinion that most of the town’s menfolk had of my old friend and did not see the strength that hid behind Martin’s impeccable clothing and urbane manners. No, I did not think Hiram would give a thought to Martin if he decided to be rid of me and Sarah.

“So that is where things stand? We must simply wait?” It seemed that I was waiting all the time now. I spent hours at a stretch at Mama’s side, talking to her when she seemed lucid and listening to her vague mutterings, or her soft breathing, when she sank into torpor. Bet and I shifted her around in her bed, gave her sips of water or broth, and sat her on the chamber pot at regular intervals.

Bet suggested a nurse, but I refused quite angrily until she finally persuaded me to allow a woman to attend Mama at night. Marie was doing all of the cooking and cleaning now, so I suppose my meals were rather plain, but I did not take heed of them.

“I will be at your side as you wait, Nell.” Martin clasped my hand and squeezed it hard.

“Yes.” I tipped my head up to smile at Martin. “I am glad you are my friend, Martin. A better friend than I was to you when your mother… but of course I was indisposed.”

Despite our sadness, Martin’s face broke into a broad grin, and he reached out to stroke Sarah’s cheek. “Take comfort in your little indisposition,” he said. “She has brought great joy to your mother. It’s strange, isn’t it? The greatest gift you could have given her stemmed from your disgrace. It’s enough to make me start going to church.”

FORTY-TWO