Episode 16

Miss Eugenia ventured from the vestibule to the chamber opposite her door. The room served as parlor and library, and when a fire was in the fireplace, it was a pleasant place to be. But as no one was expected to inhabit the room that day—Mr. Berry being away at work and Phee usually either in her bedchamber or her auntie’s chambers—neither Miss Martin nor Mrs. Childers had bothered.

Miss Eugenia rubbed her arms and continued through the pocket doors in the back of the parlor to the dining chamber where Mrs. Childers kept a fire going. The kitchen was below the dining chamber, a half-story below ground level, with a short flight of steps up to the ground, then another flight up to the main floor of the residence. There was a dumbwaiter to bring food from the kitchen upstairs to the dining chamber.

Mrs. Childers slept in the room in front of the kitchen, accessible to the street by a half-flight of steps upward. Through her front entrance, Mrs. Childers journeyed to the various shops and markets in the village of Haverford. Deliveries were also made to this lower front entrance, as directed by a small sign in the small courtyard in front of the Berry rowhouse.

Miss Eugenia sat on the dining chair closest to the fire to rest. She was unaccustomed to walking more than a few steps and it tired her to go this far.

Hearing footsteps above her, Mrs. Childers scurried from the kitchen below, out to the back courtyard, then up the flight of steps to the dining chamber.

“Miss Eugenia, are you all right?” The cook’s forehead was wrinkled into deep creases, her right hand touching the older lady’s shoulder.

“Why would I not be?” There was a musical note in Miss Eugenia’s voice, indicating a hint of mirth amidst the seriousness by which the staff knew her. Mrs. Childers cocked her head sideways, and considered how she should answer. “Do not worry, Mrs. Childers, I have not taken leave of my senses. I was feeling surprisingly fit today, and as Miss Ophelia is immersed in a book, I thought I would see if the house has changed much since the last time I was here. I see it has not.”

Meanwhile, Phee was reading at a furious pace. She was uncertain when her auntie might have a change of heart. She recalled that Miss Charlotte was out on the lane, undetected when the two men had re-entered the residence.

But when she took up the book again, there was a jump to the next day. She thought her auntie should make a transition at that point. Or maybe indicate a break with a fancy mark. But then, she had not been asked to edit. She shrugged and continued.

At breakfast this morning, I stayed in my bedchamber for a while, although I dressed at dawn. At eight o’clock, a servant appeared at my half-open door and informed me breakfast was being served in the dining room. Once there, I kept my silence, as did the two men on opposite ends of the table. 

Mr. McQueen (I call him such today because he dressed English-styleformally) informed Judge Black that the Philadelphia newspaper is delivered on Tuesdays. “You will find it in the parlor,” he added.

Turning to me, he said, “Mrs. McQueen hopes you might come to her chambers once you finish breakfast.” 

I responded, “It is my delight to be of service in any way I am able.”

Judge Black sipped his tea and ate scones in silence. I asked to be excused once everyone finished. 

As I slipped into her room, I could barely make out where Zora was, because the shutters were closed and the curtains were drawn. As my eyes adjusted, I saw her propped up on her pillows. I assumed at first that she was asleep, but as I approached, I could hear her whisper, “Weak.”

The poor thing resembled a lost kitten after a drenching rain.

“Zora, I am so sorry. What if I talk, and you squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for no?” I considered what to say. I did not wish to tax her mind.

“Are you in pain?” I asked, placing my hand in hers as I seated myself on the carved walnut chair next to the bed. I felt a weak squeeze. Twice, I believe.

“Do you need anything?” Again, two weak squeezes. 

I was silent for a while and discovered I could reach a bedside table. There, a book enticed me. Just as I was considering it, Judge Black entered. 

“Goodness! Dark as night!” He walked to the window furthest away and opened the shutters and drapes. It is a luxury in this wilderness to have both. They help to keep the bugs at bay at night and light out in the morning.

Seeing me, he became more polite. “Forgive me, Miss Jones. I did not realize you were here.” The judge strode to his daughter’s side, across the bed from me.

“Zora?” he whispered. No answer. Then, louder, “Zora??”

She opened her eyes but said nothing. 

“This will not do,” declared the gentleman, red in the face. “A physician must come at once!” To me, he said, “We should get another opinion. Mr. McQueen tells me the one who before visited before is quite young. I hope he is in possession of the latest information the medical school could teach him. And that such knowledge outweighs his inexperience.”

“No need, Father.” Judge Black and I exchanged smiling glances. Her voice was stronger.

“I shall go for a walk,” I announced, “so you two may enjoy each other’s company.” But Zora asked if I would stay.

“There is something I need to say to both of you.” She squeezed my hand, stronger than before, attempting but failing to sit up. “The children must continue to know and be with their father.” She rested a moment, then added, “He loves them so.”

Judge Black’s face was devoid of expression. He makes an excellent judge, I thought.

“Please rest,” he said. He took her other hand and raised it to his lips as he bent over her. After a small peck, he left, his boots thumping down the hall, then the staircase, and out the door.