A White Room (16 page)

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Authors: Stephanie Carroll

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Literary, #Literary Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Romance, #Women's Fiction, #New Adult & College, #Nonfiction

BOOK: A White Room
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I flung off the coverings and leapt from the bed. In nothing but my thin nightgown, I felt a slight chill as I tiptoed to the door. I put my ear to it but heard nothing but my own heart thumping. I had no choice. I turned the handle and gently opened the door a crack.

I heard John ask, “Another? When? Who?”

I peered through the crack. They were almost to the end of the hall.

“I really can’t say. She is a woman of some stature. I don’t want to risk saying. She seemed to hint at it, but I can’t be sure.”

“Did you inform Marcellus?”

“No. I’m not going to accuse anyone until I’m certain, especially not to Marcellus. He would pounce like a rabid dog.”

“I gather it’s his line of work that makes him like that,” John said.

“The way he questions these women, it’s invasive and cruel. Most are young and scared, but by the time he’s done, they’re even more damaged. He treats this like it’s a damn witch hunt. I don’t see how the police department and the circuit judge would condone such methods, especially when…well, never mind.”

“Walter? It’s just me. Client privilege.”

“I’m not sure. It could just be a rumor, but I heard he left Chicago because of his methods. Apparently, he went too far.”

“Really? That can’t be. How would he have gotten this position?”

“Mr. Coddington. They knew each other, and Mr. Coddington has more than enough influence and connections to help Marcellus acquire the position. I’m sure he thinks Marcellus’ results are worth looking over his past indiscrepancies. He always gets the dying confession.”

“What do you mean by ‘too far’?”

“I don’t know, something about forcing a signature, threatening people into confessing. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“That is serious. It can’t be true.” John continued, but they began down the stairs. I crept out the door and scurried down the hall like a sly feline. I slowed and stopped next to the room with the keeper and the dead boy. Despite the closed door, in my mind the woman rotated toward me and lifted her finger to her lips, and I heard, “Shhh.” I glanced in her direction and then focused on listening.

Walter continued, “Mr. Coddington assumes these people are petty criminals, but it’s not that simple.”

I could hear their voices become lower, and I crept after them. They had to discuss my diagnosis eventually, in John’s library, certainly. I could hide just outside the door.

“I’d say something myself, but I’m afraid Mr. Coddington’s opinion of me might make things worse,” John said. “Have you spoken to your father about it?”

“No. He’s a stubborn man. He would take my objection to how we handle it as my attempt to condone the crime. I can’t stand it, but I can’t do a thing about it.” A pause. “Another topic, St. Louis.”

“Oh. It will probably be another excuse for Mr. Coddington to berate me and it’ll give my father the opportunity to do the same. I’ll sit in on Mr. Coddington’s cases and meet Mr. Hawtrey and the GOS board.”

“Quite a respectable assignment.”

“I know. I should be honored…and I am. I know how critical these visits are for Mr. Coddington.”

They turned again, and I followed, carefully balancing my weight with each step. I expected the walls to move, but they remained still.

“You know this might be Mr. Coddington’s way of showing his approval,” Walter said.

“Does that mean I have finally earned a good report from your father?”

“I can’t confirm it.”

“Walter, you know you really helped me out with him.”

“Having lived in the man’s house, I understand how difficult he is to satisfy. I still haven’t figured out how to convince him of my value.”

“My father is the same way.”

“I have to stick by his decisions even if I disagree.”

“How’s that?”

They rounded the final turn. Quiet but swift, I crept to the last corner. They were on the ground floor and inches from John’s library.

Walter continued. “There’s new information out there, new criteria to consider, new techniques, new tools. It’s a new century, for God’s sakes. He refuses to progress.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t.”

“Not while it’s his practice and not my own.” Walter huffed. “If I tried, I’d regret it. He’d make sure of it.”

“And what of your other dilemma? Would he hear of that?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I couldn’t, not yet.”

“But I thought you said—”

“My mother despises every woman in this town, and when it comes to such matters, he defers to her.”

“I see.”

Walter sighed. “If she knew, she’d—I honestly don’t know what she’d do.”

“That bad?”

“That bad.”

Then I heard nothing more. They had gone into the library! Suddenly the walls contracted quick and hard. My heart leapt, and I jumped. I tried to regain my footing, tilted, and placed one foot in front of the other, but I couldn’t maintain my balance and I tripped, losing my grip on the corner. I tumbled forward with a thud, a bump, another thud, and a final slap. I landed partially on the bottom step and partially on the floor. I let out a groan and looked up to see John and Walter standing stunned directly in front of me, hand gestures frozen in place. Perhaps they hadn’t gone into the library. We all just stared at one another at first. Then the two men regained their composure and quickly dipped down to assist me. “Emeline, what happened?”

“Uh—I—” I stuttered as they lifted me off the floor, my nightgown disheveled.

“What are you doing?” John asked.

“Are you all right?” Walter asked.

“Um—forgive me.” My eyes bounced to and fro. “I—I just—”

They each held an arm, and I whipped my head back and forth, pleading with each of them.

“I just wanted—” I hesitated.

“Emeline?” John said.

“We need to get her back upstairs,” Walter said.

“What’s wrong with me?” I shouted.

They stopped, stunned again. Walter hesitated. “You just need some rest, that’s all. We should take you—”

“Please.”

Walter released my arm and stepped in front of me, putting his hands out the way lion tamers do. “Calm down, Emeline. You have overextended yourself, that’s all.”

My eyes darted from Walter to John. “I am not hysterical.” I reached out to Walter, desperate. “I’m not crazy. I’m not hysterical.”

“No, Emeline. No one is saying that,” Walter said, guiding my hand down. “You are going to be just fine. You need bed rest, no stimulation.”

“Behavior like this isn’t helping you either,” John said.

“But—I—”

“Let’s get you back upstairs.” Walter extended his hand toward the stairs, and I submitted. I had been tamed.

They left me in the room again. I squeezed my eyelids shut. They opened to tears. Why did I care what they thought? I wouldn’t be here much longer. I couldn’t go with John to St. Louis, but James would come for me. He would come. The beast grinned at me from its dark room. James would come.

Thirteen

May 1901

W
alter had condemned me to bed rest, to prolonged motionlessness. He even insisted I not visit the outhouse but use the chamber pot at all times. I had hoped Mrs. Schwab could be my primary caretaker, but John unexpectedly decided her condition made her too delicate and unreliable so he dismissed her. Instead, I would endure a parade of mortification from Margaret, Ella, and Francis. I assumed he would add Ida, and my dignity would have no hope, but instead Walter had recommended Miss Olivia Urswick. I was thrilled. I might have been locked up, but when James arrived I would be free, and this was the woman who could reveal how to survive beyond the walls of obligation.

Perhaps I could have welcomed Walter’s recommendation to rest if, after John left, the house’s modesty hadn’t deteriorated. I heard them scuffling behind closed doors. I detected scraping on the walls. I sensed the little girl skipping and twirling. I had expected such disturbances, but I had not expected beings elsewhere in the house to reach me in my room. The basement called for me to toil in its darkness. The furniture in the parlor twisted and coiled, cheering in my absence. The wolf stalked and waited for me just outside. Everything felt like a bright light stinging my eyes, but in my mind. I wondered how long until one of the furnishings would gain enough strength to open the door and seize what was left of my sanity.

I thought I could make out footsteps a few times and sat up stiff and stared at the doorknob. In the afternoon I heard the steps again, but not those of two feet. It sounded like several. A table? They were louder than the others I had heard and approached with definite intent. I shot up and drew the blanket to my chin. The doorknob jiggled. The door creaked and slowly swung open. They were really coming for me.

“Emeline?” Francis entered, Ella following.

I sighed and lowered the blanket, grateful to behold a human rather than a disgruntled love seat, but I was mortified to be seen in such a state by these two women.

“How are you?” Francis grinned.

I tried to hide my hair by pushing the tangles and waves behind my shoulders. I imagined how I looked in my disheveled nightgown, my hair hanging in tangles to my waist and my body loose without a corset.

The two women must have worn their finest afternoon toilettes for the occasion. Francis glowed in tangerine silk, and although it was customary for older women to wear darker shades and heavier fabrics, Ella wafted in canary-colored chiffon. “We’ll be staying here for a few nights to make sure you have everything you need.”

They’d been scheduled to arrive that morning. “I am aware.”

The two women stood at the foot of the bed without removing their gloves or hats, which were spruced up with feather plumes and silk rosettes.

Francis maneuvered around the bed and handed me a white envelope. “I have your post.”

“The post is for John, I’m sure,” I said with a nasty inflection.

Francis responded in kind. “I can read, dear.”

I placed the item in my lap.

“No one answered the door when we rang. Has your handmaid gone to town?”

“John didn’t think it fit for Mrs. Schwab to continue working in her condition.”

“Oh,” Ella said. “Are you going to be all right without someone here at all times?”

“We cannot stay all the time,” Francis said. “We have our own duties to tend to.”

I clenched my teeth. “I’ll be fine.”

“You must be frazzled about the house?” Francis focused on something above my eyes, presumably my hair. “I don’t see how it could be beneficial to your health to wallow in disarray.”

“We will help you, Emeline,” Ella said. “We won’t let any dust settle.”

I paused, allowing my indignation to fill the room.

Francis simpered. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of—”

“Are you both well today?” I interrupted.

They looked puzzled.

“Yes,” Ella said. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Do I not look well?” I feigned aloofness.

Francis crinkled her nose. “I hope you remember we are taking time away from our responsibilities and our families to help you.”

I squinted.

Ella glared at her daughter, but Francis ignored her, so Ella softened her expression and looked back at me. “How do you think you will do in the evenings? We might not be able to return until late.”

“I will be fine.”

“We should go downstairs. Dr. Bradbridge said we mustn’t overstimulate you,” Francis said. “And that is obviously easy to do.”

I bit my cheek. “Wonderful, because I have no desire to keep company with the likes of you.”

“How dare you?” She took a step forward.

“Francis.” Ella stepped in front of her.

Francis hesitated and abruptly spun and stamped out.

Ella stuttered. “Uh—don’t worry about anything, Emeline. I’ll fetch you something to eat.” She followed her daughter out.

I lowered my eyes to the envelope Francis had handed me and saw the return address. It was from James.

I ripped open the envelope and yanked out the letter. I had been waiting since March, and it was now May. It’s going to say he’s on his way, I beamed inside my head
.
I rapidly unfolded the stationery and held it up, shaking with excitement:

My dearest Emma,
Forgive me for taking so long to respond to your correspondence. A whirlwind lifted my world up and spun it into chaos after you left. I started working and moved into the boardinghouse but quickly realized I could afford my own apartment with a little encouragement from the Dorrs.

Now I understood why he hadn’t written. He was settling into things and he’d even found an apartment so he could take care of me.

I would have stayed in the boardinghouse, but I needed a place to call my own because I won’t be living alone much longer. I’m so excited Emma, I’m engaged to be married!

I exhaled slowly. I squeezed the letter and continued.

She is the most genteel and beautiful woman I have ever met. The Dorrs introduced us. You will love her, Emma, I promise you. She looks forward to meeting you.

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