The Aviary (29 page)

“Mother!” she shouted as she entered the kitchen.

“Clara!”

Harriet clutched her daughter by both arms. “What’s
happening?” she asked, her face white. “Who else has been here?”

Ruby ran in from down the hall. “You found her? Ah, thank God!”

That’s when Clara saw that Ruby had found Jimmy Dooley’s gun. Jimmy himself was apparently awake and had found his voice, for he could now be heard pleading for help outside.

“Come,” Clara said. “We must make him be quiet and then I’ll explain.”

Her mother and Ruby were close on Clara’s heels. She could hear her mother exclaim as they spied the aviary. Jimmy Dooley was on his knees with his shirt halfway untucked, holding his head, and moistening his burned lips with his big tongue. Mr. Booth had pulled himself up and stood with his nose against the bars, shaking with rage.

“Let me out!” he cried. “Or I’ll see to it that you are both hanged!”

“Who
are
these men?” asked Harriet.

“That is Mr. Woodruff Booth,” Clara said, “and with him is the man who kidnapped the Glendoveer children.”

Her mother appeared dazed by the announcement. “No, Clara,” she said. “You didn’t.”

Ruby pressed forward until she stood face to face with Mr. Booth. “Is it you, sir? Are you Woodruff Booth?”

“Don’t look him in the eyes, Ruby! He’ll hypnotize you—”

Ruby looked up instead and saw George and his two siblings on top of the aviary’s roof. “Clara, where are the other birds?”

“Enough about the birds,” her mother snapped. “We’re all in a world of trouble here. That man is injured.”

“Your little girl burned him with lye,” said Mr. Booth.

“He threatened me with a gun!” countered Clara.

“She told us that she had papers signed by Cenelia Glendoveer that could put me, an innocent friend of the family, in jail,” said Mr. Booth. “She lured us here. It’s extortion, I tell you!”

“Should we believe that?” Ruby asked Clara.

Clara began to explain, but Mr. Booth kept interrupting.

“Talk to me, sir,” Harriet said. “I am Clara’s mother.”

Mr. Booth adjusted his spectacles and stood as straight as he was able. “Then you’ll want to know that your
daughter
told me that you and the cook were going to sell the incriminating document to a magazine!”

“Yes, I did, Mama,” Clara said. “It was for a good reason, though.”

Harriet’s hands crawled up to her forehead. “This is a nightmare. I can scarcely believe I’m awake.”

“But he’s admitted to the kidnapping, Mama!” said Clara. “And that man with him? He kept Elliot captive. He raised him on one of the Pincushion Islands and—”

“Nonsense,” said Mr. Booth. “What kind of mother are you? Can you not see that the girl is ill?”

Clara’s mother waved everyone quiet and paused for thought. “Ruby,” she said, “I need you to go into town and get the police.”

“And a doctor!” shouted Jimmy.

“No, Mama. Not yet!” Clara said.

Ruby pulled Harriet aside, and Clara stood close by. “Are you sure? Don’t you think we should get more of the story from Clara?”

“There is nothing else to be done,” Harriet said. “I can’t release these men by myself. For safety’s sake, we need the police. And then we’ll sort everything out.”

Clara had visions of the men being set free. They might even resort to killing Elliot just to rid themselves of any remaining evidence of the kidnapping. She broke in between the two women and implored them. “If you want to give Father a chance to return home, you have to listen to me. He’s on his way! What can I say to make you believe?”

Jimmy picked that moment to howl and rock back and forth, rubbing his eye.

“You see what a position we’re in, don’t you, Clara?” Ruby asked.

“Yes, but you must hold off. For Mrs. Glendoveer, Ruby!”

Abruptly, before Clara could react, Harriet reached into her daughter’s pinafore pocket and pulled out the aviary key.
“That,”
she said, pointing to the men inside the cage, “is also kidnapping. It’s a serious offense, and if we
don’t react quickly, it will be harder for us. Do you want Ruby and me to go to jail?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll go to jail!” Clara said.

Ruby pulled her into an embrace. “It doesn’t work that way, girl. We will be held responsible. And then what will become of you?”

Clara’s mother marched to the aviary. “Gentlemen, I’m going for the police. You will be released to them shortly.”

“At last!” exclaimed Booth.

Clara did not know what else to do. She was about to throw herself at her mother’s skirts when she heard a magisterial male voice ring out from the top of the aviary.

“HARRIET, DO NOT GO!”

Her shoulders dropped. She turned.

“Harriet, listen to your daughter. Wait!
Please.
”

Clara felt Ruby’s grip tighten around her and watched her mother’s eyes rise until she glimpsed the cockatoo, his sulfur crest spread like a fan and his wings stretched wide.

“Did the bird say that?” Harriet asked no one in particular.

“Indeed, he did,” said Ruby. “Oh, my stars and garters.”

Clara put out her arm, and George fluttered down to perch upon it.

Harriet glanced from Ruby to Clara. “Which one of you taught him to speak?”

“I did,” Clara said. “Or maybe I should say I helped him remember.”

“Damnation!” said Mr. Booth. “Are you going to listen to a cockatoo?”

“Quiet, Booth,” George said sternly. “Clara,” he resumed in his silky voice, “did you show your mother the gun?”

“No, George. How silly of me …”

“Would you get it for us, Ruby?” he asked, cocking his head.

Clara’s mother looked to be at a loss for words. Ruby, however, moved with alacrity. She was back with the gun in no time.

Clara ran her finger over the handle. “It’s here, Mama. See? It says ‘J. Dooley.’ And that man over there? He’s the one who kidnapped Father.”

“He raised Elliot as his own son,” George said. “Changed his name to Nevan—”

Harriet put her hand over her open mouth.

“Somebody get her a chair, please,” said George.

“I’ll help her into the house,” said Ruby.

Ruby got Harriet settled at the kitchen table, and Clara made a dash again for the door. “Peter! Helen!” she called. “Keep an eye on the men. Oh, and let us know if Frances and Arthur return.”

“Leave the door open!” George reminded her.

Ruby sat in a chair beside an unblinking Harriet Dooley. “Did you say Frances and Arthur?” she asked.

“They’re all here!” Clara told her. “Well, not all here now, but you know what I mean. The birds are the
Glendoveer children, Ruby. They’ve been with us this whole time.”

Ruby’s eyes shone. “So it’s true,” she said. She reached out her arm to George, who flew to her and bowed deeply. “You always were the prettiest of the lot,” she said. “I’d never have known you were a young man.”

“Don’t tell Peter,” Clara said. “He thinks
he’s
the prettiest.”

“I’m sorry!” her mother broke in. “There is no making sense of this for me. It’s not in my constitution to absorb whatever is going on here.”

Ruby reached over and stroked Harriet’s head. “But, dear, this is good news, don’t you see?”

She lifted her hands weakly and let them drop.

“Mama, we have nearly found Father. And he never meant to abandon us. Isn’t that cause for joy?” Clara studied her mother’s face for a gleam of happiness, but Harriet merely stared ahead. “Tell her, George,” she said. “Explain it to her.”

George started at the beginning—with the night of the kidnapping and his conviction that Mr. Booth had hypnotized the nanny before leaving for Berlin. He told her that he believed Elliot might well have been mesmerized too when he returned to Jimmy Dooley’s for proof; and now Frances and Arthur were on their way to break the spell and bring him home, if she had the patience to wait.

Clara could see her mother leaning forward, listening closely, losing her fear. George was like that, she thought.
When he spoke, his humanity shone through, and it was easy to forget about his outward form.

“My own childhood seems so long ago. And yet, you are much older than I am. May I ask,” said Harriet, “how did you do it? How did you endure those years in the cage?”

“I cannot say.” George took a breath. “There were long, cold nights when I felt sick with despair. Each of us did. But when we saw that one was not eating his food, or dropping feathers, or refusing to sing, the rest of us would gather round and chase away discouragement. We always kept hoping.”

“For what?” Harriet asked.

George spoke softly. “For Elliot. For release. For someone who would
believe.
”

Clara saw the tears spring to her mother’s eyes and felt a hand on her own. “And then there was Clara,” Harriet said.

Her mother gave her such a deep, appreciative gaze that Clara blushed.

“And now we have you, Harriet,” George said.

“I hope you’re including me as well, George!” Ruby said. “Have you forgotten how I worked my fingers to the bone for you? Digging up night crawlers and mucking out the cage and all that.”

“Our biggest thanks to you, Ruby,” George said. “And you shall be rewarded if our plans come off.”

Ruby folded her arms in satisfaction. “Keeping you alive and thriving is prize enough. I just wanted a little tip
of the hat, is all. Now I’m going to make some proper sandwiches for our guests out there. And, Clara, you go get some salve from the medicine cabinet for Mr. Dooley’s eye. Unless, that is, someone still wants to call the police.”

“No, Ruby,” said Harriet. “No police. The Glendoveer children have waited, and so can I.”

There was no bedtime for Clara that night. Ruby provided blankets for the men in the aviary and invited Peter and Helen inside to sit with them in the kitchen.

“Your mother wasn’t speaking to me this afternoon,” Ruby told Clara. “Do you know why?”

“Let me guess, Mama,” Clara said. “Ruby was impossible during the meeting at Mr. Merritt-Blenney’s.”

“She was not only impossible,” her mother said, “she was also embarrassing. At one point, she fell to the floor in the most artificial swoon. You could see her peeking at us. No one was fooled for a minute!”

Clara laughed. “Ooh, that was my suggestion, I’m afraid.”

“I thought you two were conspiring against me. In any case, we didn’t sell the house.”

Clara was glad. Anything that allowed them to hold on to the Glendoveer home and stay close to Daphne was good, in her opinion.

Ruby made endless pots of tea and brought out a big basket of mending to keep Harriet and herself busy. Clara took out her Hans Christian Andersen and read to them all until she strained her throat. Crickets sang and the late-night air so chilled the kitchen that Ruby gave the birds old tea towels to nest in. Candlelight drew long shadows across the kitchen table, and Clara could feel her chin drop to her chest.

“I’m not going to sleep,” she told her mother. “I’m going to rest.” And she laid her head down and dreamed.

The first moments of sleep took her to somewhere as dark and empty as an underground cave. She imagined she was waiting in an antechamber where she heard only the sound of a ticking clock. It wasn’t a bad place to wait, but it was impossible to tell if she was alone or if others sat with her in the dark. She was glad, then, to feel the slightest warming and sense the rising of the sun. A subtle glow radiated at the end of the chamber until she could make out a lovely room with little beds, a small school desk, and a white armoire.

The Glendoveers’ nursery!
she thought.

The room grew rosy, and Clara saw a woman sitting in a rocker. A baby bundled in a blanket cooed and reached up to Mrs. Glendoveer’s smiling face. To her right, on the floor, a beautiful fair-haired boy built an elaborate tower of
blocks. The older sister, her brows knit in concentration, sat on the window seat reading to her two young brothers, who poked at each other and laughed at something that amused them greatly. And in the middle of the room, a girl of four sang a little song to herself while twirling and hopping over the patterned carpet.

Clara waved to them but was unable to speak. She squinted, but the light in the room expanded until she could no longer see.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

Clara heard the sound of her own voice and awoke. Her first impression was that there was a blaze in the kitchen. With a blink, Clara’s vision adjusted, and she saw the source of the light: the flames on the candles were dancing! Some shot up several feet like fountains of fire.

“Extraordinary,” murmured Harriet.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Ruby said. “It must be Mrs. Glendoveer, mustn’t it, Clara?”

“Heavenly,” Clara replied.

The birds stood shoulder to shoulder, their heads bobbing in unison with each leap of the flames. George turned to Clara.

“He is here.”

The heavy rapping of the front door knocker made her jump. She saw her mother’s face first twist into anguish and then expand into elation in the span of a second.

All of them ran to the foyer—except those who could fly! Clara got to the door first, flipped the bolt, and tugged open the door.