The Forgotten Room (35 page)

He must have tidied after she left. The sketches were gone from the floor, the Chinese cabinet closed, the bricks in their place above the mantel.

She half expected the mechanism to fail, but it didn't. When she pushed on the knight's shield, the bricks of the wall swung out as easily and soundlessly as though they had been waiting for her. Inside, she could see the sad remains of her mother's affair with Harry Pratt: the detective's report, his letter.

Before she could think better of it, Lucy thrust John's letter on top of the pile.

“I'm sorry, Mama,” she murmured to the empty room. “Sometimes it just doesn't work out, does it?”

Moonlight glinted off the knight's shield, just as it had, in those long-ago evenings, off the mural in her room.

There are consolations.
From very far away, Lucy heard her mother's voice, felt her arm around her, sitting with her, late at night, in a small bed a borough away.
Life doesn't always turn out the way you expect, but there are consolations.

For a moment, Lucy thought she smelled lavender, heard the crinkle of her mother's long, starched skirts, but then it was gone, and the room, once again, was still, its secrets hidden beneath a silver wash of moonlight.

“Good-bye,” Lucy said to no one in particular, and, closing the door, went downstairs to face the dawn.

S
EPTEMBER 1944

Kate

“Kate?”

I looked up when I realized that my name had been called more than twice. I blinked, trying to remember where I was and why, and with whom. Not that any of it mattered. Not that anything seemed to matter anymore.

“Kate, would you like another cigarette?”

I blinked again, trying to remember Dr. Greeley's first name, but couldn't. He'd probably be flattered if I called him Doctor even outside the hospital, so I didn't try very hard to recall it. I tapped my fingers on the top of his desk, then took a final drag on my cigarette before stabbing it out in a glass ashtray. “No. Thank you. I should be getting back to my patients.”

His hand slid up my arm and I didn't move away. Not that I had any intention of following through with any of his innuendoes, but I simply didn't have the energy to push his hand off me any more than I had the energy to eat or return Margie's calls.

Dr. Greeley leaned toward me with what could only be described as a leer. “It must be nice to have your room all to yourself again.”

I thought of the barren room at the top of the stairs, stripped again of its two extra beds and all of the extraneous furniture that had once given it a cozy atmosphere, and suppressed a shudder. Looking straight into his eyes, I said, “I sleep with a surgical knife and I know how to use it.”

His hand left my arm, allowing me to step away. His lips pressed together. “I'm a patient man, Kate, but even my patience has its limits.”

I opened the office door as I tried to think of something to say, and found myself staring into Nurse Hathaway's raised hand, her knuckles prepared to knock. She smiled brightly. “I was hoping to find you in here. Nobody seemed to know where you'd gone.”

I smiled back at her, using my eyes to thank her for rescuing me again. Ever since Cooper had left, she'd been keeping a protective watch over me, which was a good thing since I seemed to be a lost wanderer in the dark, running into walls, unsure of which direction to move. The only thing I could rely on was my medical training, my confidence as a doctor, and my ability to heal and nurture patients. It consoled me, almost reassured me that I'd made the right decision in allowing Cooper out of my life. Almost.

“Nurse Hathaway,” I said. “I was just leaving.”

“Perfect timing, then. You have a visitor.”

I felt something stir in my chest, and she must have seen something in my eyes, because her smile dimmed. “It's Mrs. Prunella Schuyler. She says she's a relative.”

I looked at her in surprise. “She's here? At the hospital?”

“Yes. I brought her to the patient consulting office to give you some privacy if you wanted to chat. Should I bring up some tea?”

“That would be lovely . . .”

“She doesn't have time,” Dr. Greeley said, looking at his watch. “She has rounds in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” I said, turning my back on him as I exited his office and walked down the hall to the same stained glass door of the office in which I'd sat when Margie had come to visit and tell me what she'd learned at the library about the Pratt family.

“She brought her maid,” Nurse Hathaway whispered. “So you won't be alone with her.”

I nodded my thanks, then pushed open the office door after a brief knock.

Mona had left off her white apron and mobcap, but she was wearing the same black dress of shiny and worn material. She smiled and stood as I entered.

“I told the missus that it would be the polite thing to do to give ye some advance warning, but she'd have none of it.”

Prunella scowled at the maid as she plucked off her gloves, finger by finger. “That is enough, Mona. You are excused for the next fifteen minutes.”

I held the door open to let the maid pass. “Go downstairs to the lobby. The nurse can show you where the coffee is, and there are some chairs down there, too.”

Prunella was dressed all in black, a crow against the crimson red upholstery of the small couch. A fox stole stared at me from its perch around her shoulders. She pressed a starched white linen handkerchief against her nose. “It is an abomination to see all these
people
in my father's mansion. He must be rolling over in his grave.” She said the word
people
with the same inflection I imagined she'd use for the word
rubbish
.

“This is a pleasant surprise, Aunt Prunella. I didn't expect to see you again so soon.”

She sniffed. “I grew tired of waiting for you to visit me. I might be
dead before you made time for me, so I am here instead. And I have something I need to tell you.”

“And I, you,” I said. “But first would you like a tour around the house to show you how it's all changed since you lived here?”

“Good heavens, no. It is quite enough to simply
smell
the changes from this room.”

Without waiting for her to grant me permission, I sat down on a chair opposite. “Aunt Prunella, were you aware of a hidden compartment behind a brick in the attic fireplace?”

Her eyes widened, but she shook her head. “No. Harry used the attic as his studio and never allowed me up there, and certainly never showed me any secret compartment. Of course, I
did
manage to sneak up there from time to time to see what he was up to and saw all of his canvases stacked along the wall. I inherited them, you know. Only because they weren't considered worth anything to auction.” She said this last softly, as if musing to herself. Glancing back at me, she said, “Why do you ask?”

“I found some letters hidden there, presumably by Harry. And a letter to my mother, Lucy. Olive's daughter.” I looked at her closely, but she never flinched—either from good breeding or because she already knew.
And an engagement ring,
I almost added but didn't. The pain and loss were still too fresh and real to me. I'd tell her one day. Just not today.

“Was there anything in there to tell us what happened to Harry?” she asked, leaning slightly forward.

“Not exactly, but a patient here, Captain Cooper Ravenel, and I stumbled upon some information quite by accident. We discovered that after Olive married my grandfather, Harry changed his name to Augustus Ravenel.”

Her eyes brightened with recognition. “Augustus. My father's
middle name was August, you know. And my brother—the eldest of the twins—was called Gus.”

“What happened to him?” I asked, immediately wishing I hadn't when I saw the color slip from her face.

“He died. In a barroom brawl.” She shook her head in distaste. “He died right before Harry left. It was all quite . . . unsavory.” She pressed her handkerchief to her lips as if wiping away a stain. “Do you know what happened after Harry left New York?”

“Just the basics, really. After a stint in Cuba, he moved to Charleston, where he became a renowned painter. He even had a few exhibits here in New York that my mother brought me to as a child, although at the time I never realized that Harry and Augustus were the same man.” I paused, watching as Prunella clenched and unclenched her fist on top of her cane. “Captain Ravenel is Harry's grandson.”

Her eyes glowed with a dim light. “Is Captain Ravenel still here? I would like to meet him. The last remaining Pratt.”

I swallowed, pressing back the tears that threatened every time I thought of him. “No. He was discharged last month and went back home to Charleston. He's getting married in November.”

She watched me closely, as if I'd given too much away, then relaxed back against the sofa, her face softening. “So Harry married and had children after all.”

“Yes. But he never forgot about Olive, nor she him.” I pulled the ruby necklace from inside my blouse. “That's how I came to own this. And the small miniature that Harry painted of Olive wearing this necklace was passed down from Harry to his son John and then to Cooper. Cooper showed it to me.”

Prunella examined the necklace carefully, then raised her eyes to meet mine. “You look so much like her, you know. And so did your mother. I saw it when Philip brought Lucy to meet me that first time. That's how I knew that Olive hadn't disappeared, too.”

She was silent for a moment as I digested her words, understanding that she'd known all along the connection between Lucy and Olive. She continued. “I never could determine how your mother managed to snare my stepson, although I was quite sure it had been deliberate. But I could never say anything because there was you. You were like the daughter I never had, so sweet and full of joy. I know I never showed it, but I always looked forward to your visits. It was the one bright spot in my rather bleak life.” Her lips curled up in a semblance of a smile.

“Olive didn't steal the necklace, did she?”

She looked down at her hands, well tended and soft. “No. I was upset. Vengeful, I suppose. You see, I imagined myself in love with her father.”

Her gaze bore into me, but I didn't flinch. I knew she would tell me more if I showed her that I wasn't appalled by her confession. That I wasn't there to judge her.

“But he rejected me for another. Not that I could blame him. I was a spoiled girl, who knew nothing of love. Of course he rejected me. But I was angry, unused to anybody telling me no. And when I saw that necklace on Olive, I couldn't believe that my brother would have given a maid, a
maid
, something so valuable, regardless of where it had come from.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don't know that part of the story?”

I shook my head.

“I might not have won the affections of Olive's father, but someone else had. You see, the necklace had been a gift from my mother's lover.” She paused. “Olive's father.”

I stood, too stunned to continue sitting still. “But why did Olive come to the mansion to work? I assumed she was educated, being an architect's daughter. Surely she had other options than being a maid in the mansion her father had designed and working for his lover.”

“Revenge, dear. Simple revenge. She wanted to ruin my father. But I was onto her and her plans. She would never be one of us. Her father was an elevated tradesman, after all.”

I began pacing the small room, wishing Cooper were here so I could tell him everything. But he wasn't. He was back in Charleston, planning for his wedding to Caroline in less than two months.

“So you figured out who Olive was and you must have threatened to tell Harry if she didn't leave. That's what you meant when you told me that you wished to see Harry again, to apologize for something awful you'd done to him.”

All my energy disappeared as I thought of how such a tiny thing as a lie could be like a pebble tossed in a pond, its ripples felt for decades. I collapsed back into my chair. “Is that what you came to tell me?”

She raised a regal eyebrow. “Partly. You will find, dear Kate, that as one gets older one tends to want to make amends. To fix old wrongs. Admitting my part in the Harry and Olive saga was just one of my sins for which I needed to atone. I am sure I will think of more. But mostly I wanted to pass on a piece of advice I wish somebody had told me when I was your age. It would have saved me quite a bit of heartache. Not that I would have listened, of course. But you're a woman, Kate. Much smarter than I was. Which is why I have hopes that you will take my advice to heart.”

To my surprise, she leaned her cane against the wall and reached out for my hands. I hesitated for just a moment before placing mine in hers. Her skin was cool and papery, as brittle as an autumn leaf. “Follow your heart. If you put your heart second and always follow your head, you will end up like me. Disappointment and regret are very lonely bedfellows.”

There was a brief tap on the door and Mona popped her head through the opening. “Are we ready yet, Mrs. Schuyler?”

“You took your time, didn't you? I hope you got your fill of coffee and cake, because you're not getting any when we get home.”

Mona's smile never dimmed as she picked up the cane and then helped Prunella stand.

I kissed Prunella's cheek. “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”

“Yes, well, next time do not make me come all the way out here to see you. You know where I live. And when your captain comes to visit you again, I want to meet him.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she and Mona were already bustling out of the room and toward the elevator. I said good-bye and watched them leave, Prunella staring straight ahead as if she were still the princess of the mansion.

I sat down in my chair again and stared at the wall for a long moment.
Disappointment and regret.
Could it be that in my desperation to avoid both I'd inadvertently embraced them, heading down the same path as Olive and Lucy? And Prunella. Had nobody learned anything?

I closed my eyes as my world shifted beneath my feet and something that felt like hope fluttered in my chest. Standing, I made my way out of the office, my feet confident of their direction for the first time in weeks.