Whispering Hearts Read online

  I looked toward the doorway. It sounded like someone had entered Wyndemere and was hurrying up the stairs. I thought there were at least two or three people talking.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Something,” she said. “But nothing that will disturb us. Harrison will see to it.”

  How protective, I thought. My father believed that love was compromise, but in my heart of hearts, I believed love was nurtured for a woman most when the man she loved wanted to do nothing more than keep her safe and satisfied. Maybe that was selfish. Maybe it was simply a reaction to my father’s insurmountable arrogance. He was truly lord of the manor, even if he had nothing like a manor, nothing like this.

  I looked at Samantha as she chose what she would eat, the delight in her eyes, the simplicity in her smile. There was a grace and innocence about her that I was sure had stolen Harrison Davenport’s heart. Perhaps he saw in her everything he had wished was in his mother. I didn’t have to be here long to sense that Samantha Davenport floated through this mansion like an independent spirit, with the power to make herself deaf and blind whenever she thought something might shatter the soft smile of pleasure that was as necessary to her existence as oxygen.

  The noise increased in the hallway. Suddenly, Mrs. Marlene came out of the kitchen and walked quickly through the dining room, a look of absolute terror on her face.

  “Something’s going on? Should we go see?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “Harrison will tell us if it’s important.”

  I was sure I heard a scream. Samantha ate and kept facing forward, but I detected a trembling starting in her body.

  “Was that your mother-in-law?”

  She didn’t answer. I turned to the dining-room doorway when I heard footsteps approaching. Dr. Davenport appeared.

  “I’m afraid my father has passed,” he said.

  “Oh!” Samantha cried, dropping her fork. She looked like she might topple.

  Dr. Davenport came in quickly to embrace her and turned to me. “I knew his heart muscle was weakening. Diabetes can lead to heart issues. My father was not one who would pay attention to the dietary issues, and he thought exercise was a waste of time.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  Samantha was sobbing almost in silence.

  He caressed her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “There’s nothing for you to do, sweetheart. Finish your dinner. I’m working on the arrangements. I’ve given my mother a sedative. She’ll remain in her room. Mrs. Cohen is attending to her.”

  Samantha wiped the tears from her cheeks with her napkin and looked up at him. “What will we do?” she asked, nodding toward me.

  “There’s no reason not to continue with our plans,” he said, which brought a soft smile to her lips. “The arrangements are in place, Emma. Samantha can accompany you to Dr. Bliskin’s office in the morning. I’m going back to see about my father,” he said. “The medical examiner will be here shortly.”

  “Aren’t you a medical examiner?” Samantha asked.

  “I’m the son. We have to have him to confirm cause of death. No worries, darling.”

  “Can I show Emma your office?”

  “Of course.”

  He kissed her again and left.

  She smiled. “Well, you heard him. There’s nothing we can do,” she said. “I feel so helpless at times like this. The best thing for us to do is stay out of everyone’s way. Harrison will have everything under control. He has that calmness, that control a heart surgeon must have, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, but I’m sure he’s quite upset,” I said. “It’s his father.” I looked at my food. My appetite had collapsed.

  “Oh, finish your dinner,” she said. “You heard Harrison. There’s nothing for us to do, and everything is still set. I’m sorry it happened the first night you’re here,” she added, and reached for some grapes. “Honestly,” she said, “I don’t eat this much.”

  She leaned in to whisper.

  “Someone might think I was pregnant.”

  ELEVEN

  I had been to funerals with my family, but I had never been in a house in which someone had just died, the corpse still there. Even though this was such a large house, the empty rooms and dark shadows seemed like a garden for flowers of gloom. Perhaps chased by similar feelings, Samantha moved me through the hallway quickly to her husband’s office. There was still some commotion behind us: the nurse hurrying up and down the stairs, Mrs. Marlene bringing something up on a tray, and Parker rushing in to get some orders from Dr. Davenport. In the background, we could hear an ambulance arriving, but Samantha didn’t look back to see what was happening, and from the way she was clinging to my hand, tugging me forward, it was clear she didn’t want me to, either.

  Her voice was thin, on the verge of cracking, as she rushed her words as well as her steps.

  “You will have the whole house to use, except Harrison’s office and my mother-in-law’s rooms, of course. She doesn’t like anyone but the maid in her bedroom. Even Harrison’s father rarely goes in there,” she said, as if nothing unusual was occurring at the moment.

  When I glanced at her, I saw there were tears in her eyes, but to me they were tears of panic.

  “We have a game room and an entertainment center, but I’m sure Dr. Bliskin is going to want you to take nice walks every day that it’s not raining. I’ll walk with you, of course. We’ll walk to the lake and back. During the early months, we can walk part of the path that goes for miles and miles and circles the lake. Harrison runs, you know. I think he’s run completely around the lake.”

  Best to ask no questions, I thought. Best to follow her lead.

  “He looks like he keeps fit.”

  “Oh, yes, he does. Speaking of that, Mrs. Marlene may be a little upset, but I’ve discussed another idea with Harrison.”

  “What idea?”

  “Bringing in a nutritionist to design the right things for you to eat. You don’t want to get too heavy, but you do want to eat everything that will help us have a very healthy baby. Right?” she asked as she opened the door to Dr. Davenport’s office.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I’ll follow the same diet so you don’t feel strange eating what no one else eats.”

  I looked at her to see if she was joking, but she was dead serious.

  We entered an immaculate large office that so far looked to me to be the most modern in furnishing and fixtures in the house. It was dominated by the large dark-oak desk before us, the top of which was clear except for a long yellow pad, a telephone, a pen stand, and some framed pictures. There was a tall black leather chair and a small desk lamp. Behind the desk were bay windows creating a small nook.

  To the right were shelves of books, many looking leather-bound, and the wall on the left was dominated by a beautifully framed large picture of Samantha in her wedding gown. In her hands she held a bridal bouquet of coral peonies paired with ranunculus, garden roses, and Queen Anne’s lace. My mummy loved all those flowers.

  The floor of the office was a charcoal-colored tile. At the right front of the desk was a comfortable-looking cushioned metal chair, and on the left, under the framed portrait, was a black leather settee with a small glass-surfaced coffee table, also silver metal. There were some medical magazines on it in a neat pile.

  “That’s a beautiful picture of you,” I said. “And a simply magnificent bouquet.”

  “Thank you. Elizabeth was in charge of all the floral arrangements. Give the devil her due. We had our wedding here at Wyndemere. I wish you could have seen it. Simon, Harrison’s father, had a dance floor built on the lawn, and there was a gazebo with an arch decorated with arrangements of the same flowers. We had two hundred and fifty guests and a full orchestra.” She stared up at herself. “My mother hired a designer for that dress, someone from New York City whom Elizabeth Davenport had recommended. I don’t want to tell you how much it cost. Probably equal to half my wardrobe.

  “The
Davenports insisted on contributing to the wedding because they wanted to invite an additional one hundred guests. Elizabeth claimed the event was equal to the budget of some states in the union.” She laughed. “Harrison was a little embarrassed by it all, but he put up with everything to please me more than to please his mother.”

  “That’s lace pearl, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, a one-of-a-kind design.”

  “It’s a beautiful dress.”

  “Thank you. I put it on sometimes just to relive that day. Harrison enjoys that. My mother-in-law thinks it’s ridiculous. She had her own wedding dress redone to create a gown she could wear at some charity ball.”

  “Really? Most women keep their wedding dress sacrosanct.”

  “Most women are not my mother-in-law,” she said. Then she paused, her expression finally reflecting what was happening in the house. “I shouldn’t speak ill of her right now. I’m sure she’s in a bad way. Despite how much she does by herself, she’s been married for nearly fifty years. Now she’s a queen without a king. When you see the rest of Wyndemere, you will see many portraits of them together, many framed photographs of them at important events with powerful politicians and celebrities. They were a very important social couple. And Simon was very good friends with my father. They did some business venture together, actually, before Harrison and I were married. My father looked up to Harrison’s as a sort of mentor.

  “My own father passed two years ago,” she quickly added. “He died from complications during an operation to remove a cancerous tumor on one of his lungs. Harrison wasn’t his doctor, of course. My father was a heavy smoker. He went from cigarettes during the day to cigars at night in his office.”

  “I’m sorry. What about your mother?”

  “She lives with her sister now. She sold her house and moved to Hudson, New York. My aunt lost her husband years before.” She looked at me like she’d remembered some unspoken instruction. “You haven’t told me much about your own family. How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  “Just an older sister, Julia. She’s a grade-school teacher.”

  “Oh. Are you close? I’m an only child.”

  “We were, but we drifted apart as we grew older. She saw herself as my second mum or something.”

  “How trying,” she said with a sigh. “Is she married?”

  “No.”

  “Is she as pretty as you?”

  “We have different looks,” I said.

  She smiled. “That’s one thing I noticed about you from the start.”

  “What?”

  “Your modesty. Harrison teases me and tells me I need lessons. I know I’m spoiled, but I love it,” she confessed sotto voce. “I think that happens when you’re an only child. I didn’t ask to be spoiled.”

  “Interesting how you and Dr. Davenport are both only children,” I said.

  She shook her head. “Oh, no. Harrison wasn’t always an only child. He had a sister, Holly. She died very young. She had a heart defect. I think that was what drove him to specialize in cardiac medicine.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “How could you? There aren’t any pictures displayed of her in the main part of the house, only in my in-laws’ rooms and Harrison’s bedroom. She died when she was six. He was nine and quite devoted to her. He has a picture of her here on his desk.”

  She stepped up to it and held the picture out to me.

  “What a beautiful little girl,” I said.

  “Yes.” She took it back quickly, giving me the feeling that Dr. Davenport didn’t want anyone seeing it, much less touching it. She set it exactly where it had been.

  “We don’t mention her. It resurrects deep sadness. Of course,” she said, gazing back at the doorway, “we’re back in the well of sorrow now, aren’t we? The house will be so dreary, but don’t worry. We’ll brighten things up when we can. Let’s go look at the library and the rest of the house, if you’re not too tired.”

  “I’m fine.”

  We left the office. I gazed down the dark hallway on my left. There were no lights on, but I could see it continued for some distance.

  “What’s down there?”

  “Oh, that leads to what was sort of the help’s quarters, but right now no one lives there.”

  Dr. Davenport was descending the stairway, talking to a much older man. He looked toward us, but Samantha turned us quickly into the library. It was quite large. She hadn’t been exaggerating about the number of books, either. I perused the bindings of some and rattled off which I had read. She had read none but vowed she would start reading now.

  “We’ll have so much time on our hands waiting for your test results and, of course, months and months afterward. Most afternoons, we’ll sit in here, have tea and Mrs. Marlene’s crumpets, if Dr. Bliskin says you can, and read for hours and hours.”

  I had the eerie impression that she would hover over me every moment of every day, and not simply to have companionship. I would become a ship carrying her precious cargo. She would watch anything and everything I put in my mouth and keep aware of everything I did that could even slightly jeopardize the pregnancy. I supposed I couldn’t blame her.

  “Harrison has come up with a wonderful plan to convince people I was the one who gave birth to our child.”

  “Oh?”

  “When I start to show, which I hope won’t be until the seventh month, I’m going to leave to visit a college friend of mine in Switzerland.” She leaned toward me. “That’s who you’ll be if anyone sees us these first two weeks. That makes it logical. I’ll leave, but I won’t stay away for two months. I’ll return secretly when you’re close to delivery. Isn’t that all brilliant?”

  “What do you mean when you say ‘when I start to show’?”

  “Oh. Well, I’ll have to mimic you, won’t I? Whatever you experience, I’ll experience, or pretend to, I mean. I’ve got to think like a pregnant woman, so when Harrison and I go out, people who meet us will be convinced I have a baby on the way.”

  “Where did you go to college? In case someone asks me.”

  “Bennington in Vermont. I know. We were in plays together,” she added.

  “Plays?” I smiled to myself.

  “Does that upset you?”

  “No. I was just remembering how Leo characterized all this as my being in a play. Actually, you’re the one who will be in the play. You’re the one who will be acting the part. I’ll be living it.”

  It was only after I said that last part that I realized what I’d done. Suddenly, she looked a little upset, even a little insulted.

  “I’ll live it, too. It won’t be just sympathy pains or something. It will be important for me to be mentally tied to my child.”

  “Yes, I guess it will. Of course,” I said. “That’s very wise.”

  She smiled. “I thought so. Nevertheless, I don’t want to think of you as simply someone in a mirror, someone to model myself after and imitate. I want to know as much about you as an individual as quickly as I can.” She sat on one of the two settees that faced each other. “And you’re always free to ask me anything about myself. We’ve got to become best friends quickly, almost lifelong best friends, so we can carry our story credibly. Do you mind?”

  “Absolutely not. I haven’t had a best friend for some time,” I said.

  Her smile warmed.

  She nodded for me to sit. She looked at the closed door when we could hear people in the entryway and on the stairs, not subduing their voices as much. Her face took on a look of abject fear. I thought she was having this conversation simply to do all she could to avoid confronting what was happening in the mansion, but when she turned back to me, I could see that she was sincerely curious about my upbringing and life in England.

  Surprisingly, as I described it, answering one question after another, I felt a little more homesick than I had when I was in the city. Perhaps that was because I was so busy then, my every hour seemingly taken up with work and so
lving problems as well as chasing my dream. Here, it would be the filling of time, almost like an inmate in a prison counting days and hours, despite all that the mansion and its grounds had to offer. I was still confined, and what I had surmised as to how it would be looked to be accurate. The implication was clear that when I began to show, I was going to be practically incarcerated so her secret could be kept intact. No contact with anyone but some of the trusted staff and Samantha, my every movement supervised, and every morsel I ate carefully prepared and served were what loomed before me. The isolation and the pregnancy would justify every penny they gave me.

  I asked her questions about her college life, and from her answers, I had the distinct impression she was never serious about finding a career. For her, it seemed more like a giant sorority. She had met Dr. Davenport during her spring break when she was a senior, and by the time she had graduated, they were engaged.

  “We were… how would you say… smitten with each other.”

  “Yes,” I said. For a moment, thinking about my frustrations in New York, I was envious, but I fought that back, shaking the hope for such a destiny out of my mind.

  “Let’s go look at the rest of the house,” she said when the house became silent. We had been talking nearly an hour.

  We went to every remaining room, even visiting the kitchen. Mrs. Marlene was gone, but Samantha wanted me to see how modern it was and how big their pantry was. According to her, Elizabeth Davenport would have a fit if something she wanted had not been properly stored.

  “She once had a tantrum because there were no Ritz crackers for her wine-and-cheese late-afternoon time. Parker had to rush into Hillsborough, the village, to get a box, and Mrs. Marlene was nearly brought to tears.

  “Harrison is constantly warning her about her high blood pressure. He says she’s a perfect example of someone being her own worst enemy, but she’s stubborn. What good is it to have a specialist for a son if you don’t listen to him?”

  She gave me a clear look of warning. I had better listen to him and my maternity doctor.