Chapter Twelve
In the event of a death, it is imperative that you follow proper mourning protocol as respect to the dead. In the event of the loss of an immediate family member, such as a parent, it is expected that the immediate family wear solid black. No jewelry or hint of color should be visible. For six weeks he or she should be secluded from society and not attend any parties or balls in order to collect himself or herself without causing a scene of deep grief in such a public forum. The first three months are of deep mourning and shall consist of only solid black wear – black broadcloth suits for men and crepe dresses for ladies. After three months, the mourner may begin half-mourning and start to incorporate dull tones, signaling their slow return to society.
- Mary Smith, "Death and Mourning Etiquette," 1907
The doctor diagnosed me with the flu – not Mother's illness, thankfully. I spent the duration of that day in and out of sleep with Ethel bringing me cool rags, ice water, and buttered toast. The medicine the doctor prescribed me tasted like the acidic liquid I threw up when nothing was left in my stomach.
Henry visited me again the next day, despite my protestations. I told him I would visit him when I was well again but he waved his hand as if swatting a fly. We talked about everything except Penelope and the reason why he and I could not be together. We repeated this process for three days and each day he would try and prod it out of me. Each time I would find a way out of it. We didn't talk about anything in particular. He updated me on everyone's lives since I had left. Amos and Agnes Vreewold had gotten married three years ago but waited three years to have their first child – no one was sure why but many suspected the marriage was actually arranged by Amos's parents and they had waited those three years to actually consummate their marriage.
Henry told me of his younger sister, Prudie, who hadn't changed much. Her skin was still a translucent white from rarely leaving her room and kept to herself most of the time. The few times she has been out, he told, she updated her normally dark wardrobe to lighter, more acceptable tones. If she put in the effort, she really could be quite beautiful. She and Alice, Teddy's sister whom Henry once kissed, had become quite close at one party and have been seen together on multiple occasions since. The rest of Teddy's sisters – he was the only son – had all gone off and been married by now.
It was so strange to hear all these names again. Most of the time, I forgot most even existed. I hadn't thought of them in so long.
It was on the Saturday when I first began to feel slightly better and ate my first full meal, that the dresses Elizabeth had ordered the day Mother died were delivered.
"Oh, these are beautiful, Miss," Ethel exclaimed, holding them up in the afternoon light to examine each one.
"Too bad I won't be able to wear them for some time," I sighed. I still had weeks before I could even be out in public, as per mourning etiquette. I would be back in Europe by then anyways. Then it was another few months before I could wear anything other than black crepe. "Don't bother hanging them, Ethel. They'll need to be packed anyways."
"Packed?" she asked innocently. "Where are you going?"
"I'm afraid I can't stay here. I have a ticket for the fourteenth back to London."
"You're leaving?" She sounded quite sad to hear it. "But… what about Mr. Schoonmaker?" Her eyes widened. "Will he be going with you? Oh, that's so romantic!"
"No, no," I said, looking out the window myself and wanting nothing more than to be outside. "Henry won't be coming with me, even though he's said he would. He's built an empire here in New York. I can't be the one to take him away from all that."
Ethel sat on the bed, clutching a white and pale sky blue seersucker dress. "Perhaps he can build a new empire – in Europe, with you."
We both smiled at the thought. For a woman in her mid thirties, Ethel daydreamed like a young girl. I wanted to protect her dreams so I quickly changed the subject.
"Will the lawyer be coming tomorrow?" I asked.
Ethel stood and continued plucking out the new dresses. "No. Tomorrow is Sunday so he will be by on Monday."
The lawyer would be reading mother's last will and testament for the family. I didn't expect Mother to leave me with anything. Monday would also serve as the first time I had seen the family since my outburst at the funeral. I knew I would apologize on Monday then. I felt foolish now, after speaking with Henry and letting the days pass. Not even Aunt Edith, who lived just a few steps away, had seen me. I knew they were giving me space, and that's exactly what I had needed. I was so used to living far away from my family that, I guess, being so close to them again had gotten overwhelming. Instead of telling them calmly that I needed the space to think it all out, I blew up at them. It was childish and wrong, and needed to be made right again.
After eating a full supper, I slept soundly for the first time in days. When Sunday morning came, I told a surprised Ethel to tell Aunt Edith that I would be joining her at church. Finally feeling well enough, I got up from bed and wrapped my robe around myself before going downstairs to breakfast.
Aunt Edith's eyes bulged at the sight of me entering the kitchen.
"Diana!" she exclaimed. "It's so good to see you up. Are you feeling better? You sure do look it."
I took the seat beside her. "Much, thank you."
"Ethel says you want to join me at church? I think that's a wonderful idea."
"I figure as my last Sunday in the city, I may as well," I said calmly.
Aunt Edith's face fell slightly. "I'd almost forgotten you were leaving so soon."
I wanted to tell her it didn't feel soon. It already felt as though I had been back for seventeen years again.
"Elizabeth will be delighted to see you well again, too," Aunt Edith said, sipping the porridge topped with chopped strawberries and bananas that Ethel placed in front of her. "She's wanted to visit so many times but… well, you know, those kids can be quite a handful," she said, a bit sadly.
"Elizabeth will be there, too?" I asked. Ethel placed a bowl in front of me as well.
"Well, of course," she answered. "She goes every Sunday, you know. It's really the only time I get to see those two children of hers."
I swallowed the porridge, my heart beating slightly faster. I had planned on apologizing to both before the lawyer's visit on Monday – perhaps Aunt Edith sometime this Sunday since I was closer to her, both emotionally and physically – but if I saw Elizabeth before Monday, then it should be done sooner. I knew I needed to be done, but confrontation or its after-effects were never my strong suit.
"Have you thought any more about my proposal?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
"Which proposal, dear?"
I set my spoon down. "To come with me next week. Back to Europe."
"Oh," she said with a light, polite laugh. "I don't think I can. But thank you for your kind offer."
"You would love it! I've got this small apartment above the place I work. It'll be small but–"
"Diana," she said sternly, "I trust you'll accept my answer as final. I have lived the live you wish for me to have again but it was not the life I wanted to live. My former husband lived enough of that for the both of us, and my entire lifetime. I just wish to live a quiet life. Right here."
Shamed, I looked down at my food and stirred it mindlessly. She rarely ever spoke of her brief life married to a titled Spaniard, and to hear her say anything about him was quiet shocking. If she was bringing him up, then I must have really touched a nerve.
"Okay," I said quietly. "I'm sorry for bothering you so much."
"Oh, hush," Aunt Edith said, softly patting my hand. "I only meant that… Europe has no great memories for me like it does for you, young dear."
I wouldn't be so sure about that, I thought to myself but knew I could never say so out loud without her asking questions. I was getting enough of that from Henry.
At the quick thought of him, Aunt Edith asked, as if reading my mind, "Will the Mr. Schoonmaker be stopping by for visiting hour today, after church?"
I took a strawberry on my spoon and ate it. I took my time squeezing the juices out with my tongue and swallowing it before answering.
"I think he might. Which is good because I should really tell him that he does not need to visit any longer. People might get the wrong idea."
"Have I taught you nothing, Diana?" She turned to me fully now. She sounded completely wounded.
In surprise at her town, I dropped my spoon into the bowl where it clanked against the ceramic side.
"What?" I asked.
"The papers don't matter. What people think does not matter. Do you think it was easy to return here after getting divorced so young? Oh, my name was everywhere for weeks. I stayed indoors without ever stepping foot out of this house for months. I couldn't even receive. Even after my name was out of the papers and reader's eyes were glued to some other disaster happening to someone else, I could hear people whispering about me at parties or charity galas or even just walking out in the street. I had to learn one very tough piece of advice, which came from my brother, your father: No one is going to give tough skin to you – you need to go out in the world and build it for yourself. So I did. I stopped holding my head low and began to straighten up again. I held peoples' gazes when I heard them snicker in my direction. People are often frightened of a woman who can hold her own, for whatever reason. Once they realize you are not afraid, they see that all the stones they held in their hands to throw at you have turned to sand."
As beautiful as her soliloquy seemed, I had a difficult time trying to relate it to my own story. While it is true that divorces, especially ones followed by such a brief marriage, were indeed scandalous, breaking up a marriage that one should have no part in was something else entirely.
Back upstairs, Ethel once again helped me into my black mourning dress. I wasn't sure if it was out of mindlessness or caring for me, but she left the corset only slightly looser than it needed to be. Whichever reason, I was thankful. I still felt weak from my days spent in bed. I would always be slightly upset with myself for wasting such a large portion of my time back in New York being sick in bed but there was nothing I could do for it anymore.
As Ethel was finishing placing my hat on my head, Aunt Edith walked in holding something small in her hands.
"I figure since we are going to church, you might like this. I've been holding onto it for you in the hopes you would come back."
She extended her hand out to me and, with my hands already gloved in black lace, I took the item from her. I knew it immediately – it was the lapis-encrusted cross Henry had given to me out first time in his greenhouse; the night I truly knew he was my forever.
I turned over the gold and blue cross to look at the back, where my fingers traced the memorable words, "For my True Bride." It had originally belonged to his mother who had gotten it from his father as a gift. After his mother died, Henry had taken it and, years later, given it to me.
"Oh, I don't–" I began to say in protest.
"Stones to sand," Aunt Edith repeated. "Let this be your first act of you straightening up. No one will know but you that you are wearing it, but sometimes that's all that matters."
After a moment of reluctance, I gave the necklace to Ethel who put it around my neck. I tucked the cool metal into my dress, hidden away from everyone but me.
Thomas, our coachman, drove us to the church where only a few days prior, I had buried Mother. I told Aunt Edith that I would visit Mother after the service before we headed back to Gramercy. I figured I would take Elizabeth with me and apologize there.
It occurred to me then that I had not properly apologized to Aunt Edith yet. I turned to her and clasped her hand in mine.
"Aunt Edith," I started, "I wanted to say how very sorry I am for the way I acted at Mother's funeral and the days that followed. It was immature and childish of me to lash out the way I did."
She gave me a warm smile and gripped my hand tighter. "Oh, my child. There is nothing to apologize for. It is forgotten."
I didn't feel like it was fair to let me off as easily as she did, but I didn't protest it.
Once at the church, people were congregating around the entrance and greeting one another. Some rather lavish party must have happened the night before because the crowd seemed to be smaller than I remember and those who did show up looked only half awake and aware.
Through the crowd, I could see Elizabeth with her arm delicately slung through Teddy's. She was smiling watching Delores chase Evie, trying to put a hat on that I could only guess she, in a fuss, tore off. Evie's giggling would be heard even through to our carriage.
"Oh," Aunt Edith sighed happily beside me, looking out and seeing the young children. She didn't even wait for Thomas to help her out before exiting the carriage and enveloping first Evie and then Keller in her arms.
Elizabeth's eyes, I could feel, were on me as I slowly exited after Aunt Edith. I bit the inside of my cheek and clutched my hands together while looking at Aunt Edith smother the kids with kisses. I was trying to look anywhere but at Elizabeth.
"Diana!" I heard a familiar voice call. I quickly turned to see a gleaming-eyed Lina racing toward me. Grayson Hayes trailed behind her.
"Lina," I said, smiling and embracing her as she galloped up to me, "I didn't expect to see you here."
She took a step back after the hug and looked me up and down. I could see Grayson beside her doing just the same. My cheeks went hot as I tried, and failed, to forget our one fling.
"Elizabeth told me you fell ill after your mother's funeral, you poor thing. Are you much better now?"
"A great deal, thank you. It was just a quick bug – nothing for anyone to worry over," I replied. I could still feel Grayson's eyes on me so I looked at him as if to beg him to stop.
"Oh! Where are my manners? Diana, you remember Grayson Hayes, Penelope's brother?"
It was only out of courtesy that I extended my gloved hand for him to lightly brush his lips against my knuckles. I could only thank God that we were both wearing gloves, or else he would feel how clammy my palm was just then.
"Oh, of course," I answered and took my hand back perhaps a moment too soon. "He was sat next to you at the funeral as well, was he not?"
Lina's face went flushed red and saw her lips tighten, trying desperately to hide her girlish smile.
"Yes, well…" her voice trailed off and she glanced to Grace Church where many were beginning to file in. "Shall we?"
I glanced to see where my family had gone and saw them just ascending the church steps.
"If you don't mind, I think I ought to sit with Elizabeth and Aunt Edith," I said, beginning to turn away.
"Of course! Go, go – we can talk more later, girl-to-girl." She winked before turning to talk quickly to someone who had called her name.
Just as I began to walk up the steps, I felt someone lightly grab my elbow. I turned my head only slightly to see who it was and my eyes widened in shock at seeing Grayson looking up at me from a step below.
With a look of urgency in his eyes, he said in a low voice, "I really must speak with you."
I pulled my arm away from his grasp, worried someone would see. "You really shouldn't." My voice was only just above a whisper.
"It's not what you think. Or at least I don't think it is. Can I see you during visiting hours, after church?"
I looked over his head where Lina was talking animatedly with someone, completely oblivious to Grayson and me.
I sighed. "Fine," I said quickly, really just to let him let me go. I spun around then and filed into the church with everyone else. Elizabeth's curls and Aunt Edith's white pompadour were easy enough to spot – we were also the only people in the entire service wearing solid black. I sat beside Elizabeth and leaned over to her just as the service was beginning and everyone went quiet.
"Visit Mother with me after this, will you?" I said.
She turned her head to me and gave me an appreciative smile, probably over the fact that this was the first thing I had said to her in days. Since it was already too quiet in the church to verbally respond without it echoing to everyone's ears, she gave me a slow nod.
I barely listened to the service. It had been so long since I attended – perhaps since I was last in New York. Reverend Needlehouse was preaching something about forgiving your neighbors – how appropriate. I looked around me as casually as possible and saw most people with their heads bowed in what appeared to be prayer but what may as well have been sleep. I swore I even heard Aunt Edith give a little snore or two.
With an echoing, "Amen," people once again stood and began their everyday chatter and discussing whom they will be visiting with shortly. I looked at Elizabeth next to me and she nodded again to tell me silently that she would meet me at Mother's grave.
I tried to make my way through the throng as quickly as possible but everyone seemed to want to talk to me and ask about my travels. I gave the generic answer – it was all lovely and good and I would see them sometime later to talk more. The last part was a lie, of course, but it was said only out of courtesy. I could only hope they wouldn't take it too seriously as to call on us during visiting hours that day. I still didn't think I had the strength to pretend my life was as wonderful as I had made it seem to everyone.
Eventually, though, I was able to make it to Mother's grave. Her name was still plainly marked while it waited for her official headstone. The dirt was still freshly dug like the funeral was only yesterday. It still felt like yesterday.
Next to her name was Father's headstone, where his name greeted my eyes in large cursive lettering. I remembered, for the longest time, I had always wished that it had been Mother who went first instead of Father. I realized now how childish that was of me. No matter the order, it all hurt. It was only Elizabeth and I now. We were all that was left of that once-great family.
"You wanted to talk?" Elizabeth said, stepping up beside me. Her hands were folded demurely in front of her. We both had to squint our eyes in the early afternoon light despite our black hats.
"Yes," I said slowly. "I already spoke to Aunt Edith. I wanted to apologize for the way I acted at Mother's funeral. It was childish and wrong, I realize that now. I was caught off-guard, is all. It was a completely inappropriate time and venue to lash out at anyone, you especially. You were already hurting and I only caused more pain. I am so terribly sorry for that Lizzie."
She listened intently and never once tried to interrupt me as I spoke. The right side of her lips eventually raised into a small, crooked smile. I wondered for a moment if she was going to start laughing at me.
"Oh, Diana," she sighed. She looked down and pulled my twisted hands apart. She clasped them tightly. "You've grown so much since I last saw you. You are nearly a whole new person. Though nearly at the same time, you've remained the sweet, little girl I've always known. A part of me forgot that sweet part of you and that is why I didn't tell you about Henry and Penelope."
"I know and I'm sorry I kept swatting everyone down at just the mention of his name."
Elizabeth shook her head. "I should have known how much it would affect you when you saw him at the funeral and told you before, regardless. We were once so close, you and I. I used to know what you were thinking just by looking in your eyes – though you never would shy away from how you were truly feeling. It really would have saved us so much trouble if I had told you from the start, especially when you told me on your first night here that you were still in love with him."
I looked at our connected hands with a large, unhide-able grin on my face. Now that the trouble between us was gone, I could tell her what Henry had said when he visited.
"Lizzie… I know it's improper and you'll hate it but Henry visited me while I was ill," I said, low enough so only she could hear just in case anyone still lingered after the service.
Elizabeth's brows furrowed. "Improper?"
"Well, I was quite bedridden."
Her eyes widened in shock. "Di!" she said, scandalized. "How?"
"It was Aunt Edith!" I replied, just as shocked as she. "She told him to go up and visit me. But I'm glad she did. Liz… he told me he still fiercely loves me."
I saw her eyes brimming with moisture, as did mine. "Oh, I'm so happy for you, Di."
"He's offered again to divorce Penelope and come away with me to London."
Her smile faltered for a brief moment. She probably thought I didn't see it, but I did. "Well, that's so very… quick."
My eyes lowered. I should have known this would be her reaction. Elizabeth was always proper and did everything by the book. That is, until she faked her own death to run away with our old coachman, Will.
"I don't agree," I replied. "In fact, I think seven years is quite slow if you ask me."
We were each silent for a long minute. Elizabeth was looking me over, as if inspecting something. She sighed. "Come with me."
With our hands still clasped together, she led me further into the cemetery where the gravestones got smialler and smaller and less opulent. Even the grass became less green and more of a brown-yellow color that reminded me of desert grass. Eventually we stopped and I wondered if Elizabeth was about to share some secret too large that she had to make sure no living person would hear it. We were utterly alone back there and I shivered involuntarily at the eeriness of being surrounded by nothing but decaying bodies below us.
"I try to come here every day but it's become more difficult with the children being so restless lately. Some day soon I hope to bring Keller here to teach him the truth about everything. He's far too young to understand the weight of it all yet. He thinks his father is Teddy – I'm afraid to ruin that for him."
I was going to ask her what she was going on about until I followed her eyes to the ground where a small stone was laid with the words, "Will Keller" etched messily and underneath the name was etched similarly, "1879-1899."
"I've never seen it before," I said softly as if he was asleep and speaking too loud would wake him.
"He never had a funeral – a proper one, at least. I couldn't even see him buried because of the stories they told in the papers. I'm still ashamed that I went along with them. The world will never know how sweet of a person he really was – they only believe he's a monster who was obsessed with me and kidnapped me."
I took my hand out of hers and wrapped it instead around her thin waist.
"You had no choice, Lizzie. They would have destroyed you otherwise."
She looked at me then with an expression that ripped me in half. I hadn't seen so much pain in her face for a long, long time.
"They already did," she said. Then she turned to me and looked at me intensely. Whatever she was about to say next, she wanted me to listen carefully to every word. "Diana, I was wrong about what I said a moment ago. It isn't too fast for you and Henry. This city destroyed Will's life, and mine. If it wasn't for Teddy, I would have gone back out West the second I could. But you and Henry… the both of you have a chance to be happy – together, away from here. And all I've ever wanted is for you to be happy."
Something inside me filled like a balloon and I wondered for a brief moment if I would float away with the cool summer wind that blew just then. I didn't know it could be possible to feel this happy again. Elizabeth had given her blessing and all felt right. Of course, I would have to figure out just how Henry and I were going to do it all, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I had hope.