House of Silence

by Sarah Barthel

Genres: Historical Fiction; Historical Mysteries

Synopsis

Oak Park, Illinois, 1875. Isabelle Larkin’s future—like that of every young woman—hinges upon her choice of husband. She delights her mother by becoming engaged to Gregory Gallagher, who is charismatic, politically ambitious, and publicly devoted. But Isabelle’s visions of a happy, profitable match come to a halt when she witnesses her fiancé commit a horrific crime—and no one believes her. Gregory denies all, and Isabelle’s mother insists she marry as planned rather than drag them into scandal. Fearing for her life, Isabelle can think of only one escape: she feigns a mental breakdown that renders her mute, and is brought to Bellevue sanitarium. There she finds a friend in fellow patient Mary Todd Lincoln, committed after her husband’s assassination. In this unlikely refuge, the women become allies, even as Isabelle maintains a veneer of madness for her own protection. But sooner or later, she must reclaim her voice. And if she uses it to expose the truth, Isabelle risks far more than she could ever imagine. Weaving together a thread of finely tuned suspense with a fascinating setting and real-life figures, Sarah Barthel's debut is historical fiction at its most evocative and compelling.

Release date: December 27, 2016

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 272

Sample

It wasn’t fair that before my engagement party began, I was faced with choosing between my fiancé and my best friend. As I stood looking down at the crowd forming in the Town Hall’s entryway, my stomach rolled uneasily. At that very moment, Lucy, my best friend, was secretly marrying her love. Her logic made sense: With everyone celebrating at my party, she and Patrick would have no trouble sneaking a few towns over and pledging their lives to one another. Patrick was leaving for Montana in a few days, and they needed to be sure Lucy couldn’t be married off by her parents while he was gone. Which was wise, as Lucy’s mother was busy mingling with a variety of eligible gentlemen. The moment Patrick was out of the picture, she was prepared to pounce.

We were both being wise to secure the lives we wanted. My Gregory was the man I had always imagined marrying: charismatic, smart, and handsome. We would create a wonderful life together. I had put a lot of thought into my decision. Lucy had too, only her thoughts were more of love than practicalities. For example, how would her secret wedding impact our friendship? Gregory wanted to pursue politics, which was the main reason I accepted his proposal, but having close friends who eloped could ruin his chances for a nomination, let alone victory.

But, I could no sooner give up Lucy than I could give up air. It didn’t matter what crazy thing she decided to do. I’d support her through it just as she would me. Through a slit in the balcony’s curtain I examined the crowd and located her parents. Mrs. D’Havland wore a blue satin gown cut to the peak of fashion. However stubborn the D’Havlands were, they had impeccable taste. As I spied on her, she gestured toward the entrance and invited someone to join them. I waited for their guest to emerge into the crowd and sharply inhaled. Those bouncing blond ringlets gave her away before I saw her face. Lucy! What was she doing here?

I dropped the curtain and began pacing the small room. What had gone wrong? Lucy should be saying her vows, not celebrating my engagement! It was at such moments I missed Papa. The emptiness his death created left me breathless. Mother had fretted over our year of mourning, as I was without suitors when Father passed. No matter her argument, I refused to shorten my grief. If I had, I wouldn’t be standing here celebrating my engagement to Gregory. I smiled. Father would’ve liked my choice in husband. Had the fever not taken him, he’d have probably found a way for Lucy’s family to accept Patrick as well. The lining of my gloves scratched against my fingertips. I yanked them off.

Behind me the door opened, flooding light into the room. Mother glided toward me, her gown skimming the floor. I had never mastered her gracefulness. She stopped when she saw my gloves.

“They’re about to announce you. Why aren’t you ready?”

Leave it to Mother to turn what could’ve been a meaningful moment into one of ridicule. Of course, it must be some huge personal flaw that left me without gloves.

I pulled them back on and buttoned them closed at the wrist. “I’m ready,” I insisted.

Whether I was or not, the curtain pulled open and I stood before everyone. My dark purple gown had been selected not only because it highlighted my brown hair and eyes, but because it popped against the light green curtains and cream walls. Mother also insisted that purple would convey a regal tone to all who saw Gregory and me. Personally, I was happy with the gown more so because the alternative was an amber monstrosity. Thank goodness for small favors.

“May I present Oak Park’s own Isabelle Larkin and her fiancé, Gregory Gallagher.” Uncle Walter’s announcement made me catch my breath. The importance of this moment overwhelmed me. I was claiming Gregory as my own, forever. I’d never been shy, but I’d never made this kind of commitment before. I was stuck in place.

Gregory appeared beside me as if from nowhere. Taking my arm in his, he escorted me down the stairs as if it were the most natural thing in the world. To him, no doubt, it was. His blond hair put me in mind of a greased turkey, but I didn’t let it show upon my face. He was the one who asked Mother for advice on men’s hairstyles. As he met my eyes, his mustache twitched as he struggled to avoid a smile. True to form, he held to propriety and said nothing, but looked out over our guests. I followed his lead.

The moment we touched the marble floor, he led me to the center of the dance floor and grasped me in his arms. His hand was firm against my back as he prepared to lead me. The confidence in his grasp put butterflies in my stomach. We were the couple of the moment and he would make us shine. I lifted my skirt with my left hand as the band took their cue and began a waltz.

All worry for Lucy evaporated from my mind as he whispered in my ear, “Let us make all lovers jealous with this dance.”

Before I could reply we were twirling around the ballroom. Never before had such a smart-looking couple danced so gracefully. Ours would be a profitable marriage, for he had good instincts and I followed him well.

The music gave a final swell and then faded out. I pulled my eyes from Gregory’s and glanced around at the circle of friends that had formed around us. Their applause roared in my ears. In the front, mere steps from us, Senator Quincy’s wife whispered something to her husband as she gestured toward us. Mother stood beside them and gave me a pointed look.

“Kiss me,” I insisted.

Gregory grinned down at me. His breath tickled my ear as he whispered, “That may take the point a bit far. Your mother is already eyeing us.” I smiled despite myself. I knew these people better than he and tonight I’d draw the line of decorum.

“You have won my affection. Now it is time we capture the hearts of everyone else. Kiss me.”

His lips pressed against mine so quickly I didn’t have to mimic my surprise. I gasped as he pulled me close to him and purposefully melted my body against his. No doubt, to our guests we seemed ardent in our mutual affection, but I was too focused on appearing blissful to actually feel anything.

Gregory pulled away as quickly as he began. “She is a vision of beauty. I couldn’t help myself,” he announced as everyone clapped.

I had demanded his embrace, and still my face felt warm with embarrassment. Mother’s friends were surely taken up in Gregory’s desire of me and the romance of it all. Every family in town courted Gregory when he arrived and yet he chose me, a girl of twenty who was still mourning the loss of her father. Not only did he ignore other women, but he waited to call upon us until the mourning year had passed. I know those who lost men in the war noted his patience and would remember it. Slowly, we were gaining respect and status. I glimpsed at Mrs. Quincy’s wet eyes and broad smile and knew my trick had paid off.

Mother strode to our side, hushing the crowd. “I know your father would’ve joined me in wishing you every happiness, Isabelle.” It should’ve been Papa who spoke. For a moment, I thought I saw the same loss cross over her face, for she flushed and looked around as if he might appear and speak. Composing herself, she opened her mouth to continue, but was interrupted.

“Darling niece,” Uncle Walter declared. “May your loveliness shine joy upon you both for years to come.”

“As I’ve no living family to speak for me, I humbly thank you for welcoming me into your community and allowing me to meet this beautiful creature.” Gregory pulled me to his side.

“Isabelle, you are a woman of class and integrity. I only hope that one day I can claim to honestly deserve you. Until then, I shall do all I can to make you happy.”

Gregory’s cheeks flushed as he kissed my hand. Ladies around us sighed, but for once, I didn’t observe whose heart he’d inspired. I was too moved by the flutter of emotion inside myself to bother.

The orchestra struck up a new song and the floor around us quickly filled with couples and well-wishers.

“There are several gentlemen I’d like you to meet, Gregory,” Uncle Walter said, glancing toward a group of men across the room, including the president of our bank, our local congressman, and several others. Gregory’s eyes lit up. I was not so naïve as to ignore the influence Uncle Walter’s connections would have upon Gregory. Having a family member who was already in Washington would make our ambitions much easier to achieve.

“That is the point of this gathering.” Then, turning to me, he added, “Besides celebrating our engagement.”

Someone jostled my back. “Of course. Uncle Walter, take care of him.”

The two men laughed at my words.

“Join us?” Gregory tugged my arm gently.

Tempting as listening to Uncle Walter’s friends was, there were other people with whom I needed to visit.

Glancing around the room, I spied Lucy standing alone beside the tall stained glass window. “I think I’ll let you go uncover the secrets of Washington society. Lucy is waiting for me.”

Uncle Walter nodded. “Mr. Melton has some horse-breeding questions.”

Gregory laughed. “I’ll answer what I can. You know my folks died before I was old enough to learn much of the business, but any Kentuckian worth his salt has some horse-breeding knowledge. I think we are born with it.”

“No one would ask for more than that.” Uncle Walter clapped Gregory on the back and turned him toward the waiting circle of gentlemen.

Letting himself be led, Gregory glanced over his shoulder and promised, “I’ll find you soon.”

Once he was gone, I hurried across the dance floor to where I last saw Lucy. A few of the couples paused to wish me well, but I merely nodded. Lucy waited for me beside the rose garland and I refused to be waylaid.

Up close I could see the disappointment radiating off her. Doubtless no one else noticed how her handkerchief wasn’t exactly folded in her hand or that her smile pinched her cheeks.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” I blurted out as I took her hands in mine.

Lucy raised her finger to her lips, urging me to be quiet. “Patrick’s mother is ill and he needed to leave immediately to be with her.” She turned toward the window, where no one could watch us speak. “Now, I’ve nothing to prevent Mother from marrying me off.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “She’s already invited Mr. Stewart over for dinner next week.”

“Surely Patrick will return soon and you will wed. He’d not part with you for a moment longer than necessary.” I squeezed her hand.

“You don’t understand, Isabelle. Your mother loves Gregory. If you didn’t marry him, she’d probably do so herself. But Patrick is tainted by his father’s treason. So long as he remains here, that act will taint his life.” She paused, then met my eyes and continued. “Once he has a home and land, I plan to follow him west.”

“What?! No!” The words flew out of my mouth without caution. “I cannot imagine setting up house or raising children without you next door. Do you even know what you speak of? There are savages in the west who would sooner skin you than look at you. You can’t be serious.”

“I will not survive without him.” Lucy’s voice was soft, but firm. “You chose Gregory because his dreams match your own. Never have you mentioned love. I accept that is your choice. Now, please accept mine. I love Patrick and will make whatever sacrifice I must to maintain that love.”

Her shoulders squared as if she braced for some kind of impact, but I couldn’t yell at her. She had what everyone wishes for—the love of a good man. I’d not make her feel guilty for it.

“I hope Patrick knows how lucky he is to have you.” I pulled her into a hug.

“Oh, Izzy! Thank you. I was so worried you’d be angry. This is such a relief.”

Behind us, the orchestra struck a new tune. In the corner of my eye, couples switched partners and prepared for the polka.

“Lucy, I could never stay mad at you.” I paused, struggling with how much honesty I owed her. “You are my best friend. The last thing I want is for you to leave, but I can respect your choice.”

If she was going to elope, their move to Montana might actually prove to be positive. With so much distance between Lucy and me, Gregory would have no reason to prevent our friendship. That realization calmed my heart, even as it shamed my pride. Could I really let propriety dictate who our friends were?

Half listening to Lucy’s designs for her future house, I searched the crowd for Gregory. Locating Uncle Walter’s tall and wide physique was easy, but Gregory no longer stood with that group of men. I frowned and kept looking through the couples, wondering what had caught my fiancé’s attention over such influential gentlemen. Just as I was scowling at Mother’s flirtation with a stranger, I spied him. By the side door, he glanced back and forth as if looking for someone. I rose to my tiptoes and waved to him, hoping he’d find me quickly through the crowd. Instead, his unfocused eyes drifted over me, and before I could make another movement, he slipped out the door and onto the veranda.

Lucy stepped close beside me and clucked her tongue. “What on earth did he leave the party for? You can still feel the rain’s chill in the air. Surely no one is visiting outside tonight.” As she so often did, Lucy had voiced my thoughts perfectly.

“Perhaps he’s ill.” I bit my lip anxiously. “I have to make sure something isn’t wrong.”

Lucy nodded. “Of course you do. We’ll talk later.”

Skirting the edge of the dance floor, I made my way past the dancing couples and to the side door without anyone stopping me. The windows were fogged with the unusually cold weather. I pulled the door open, shuddered against the wet wind, and slipped outside.

The veranda was drenched from the afternoon’s rain, but it was deserted. Gregory was not there. Folding my arms around myself, I searched the wraparound porch, but still couldn’t find him. I was about to give him up for lost when I heard voices from behind the tall evergreen bushes. The wind blew and my eye was drawn to the hem of an ivory skirt billowing below the bushes.

“Gregory?” I called out. I’d no desire to intrude on a couple’s private moment if it wasn’t him. “Where are you?”

The voices halted. The skirt moved back toward the entrance to the gardens. As she stepped out I was surprised to see it was a woman in servant’s attire. Her hair was tied back in a low braid and her arms were covered with linen to protect her sleeves from stains. She was a washer girl. She bobbed her head to me, grasped her skirt, and rushed back toward the servants’ entrance.

A moment later another crunch of footsteps gained my attention. I turned my head back toward the lane and saw Gregory adjusting his cuff links as he gaily climbed the steps.

“Isabelle, what on earth are you doing outside?” He smiled up at me.

“I could ask you the same question.” I frowned. “Who was that girl?”

He glanced at the servants’ door and then shrugged at me. “She asked me for a private word. I didn’t see the harm in it. I was worried there was a problem and hoped to solve it without distracting you or your mother. But, alas, she thought I was someone she knew. It was a mistake. I’m so sorry I troubled you.”

Inhaling sharply, I asked, “Are you sure that was all it was? A . . . misunderstanding?” If it was that simple, why were they hiding in the garden? I wanted to question him harder, but the look on his face stole my confidence.

Gregory stepped back and glared at me. “Whatever else could it be? We must be missed. Let’s go back inside.” He took my hand, ignoring my obvious distaste of his attitude. When I didn’t move fast enough he gripped me harder and pulled me toward the door. “Let’s not make a scene. No one will think it strange we wanted a moment alone at our engagement party. Nevertheless, it is time to return.”

When we entered, the orchestra struck up a waltz and I glided in Gregory’s arms the rest of the night. Together, nothing could stop us.

With the engagement properly announced, Mother wasted no time planning the wedding. She probably had these appointments arranged for at least a month. The morning after the engagement party I had hoped to spend resting, but instead Mother dragged me from appointment to appointment until I was sure I’d smelled every flower in Illinois. It would have been fun if any of my opinions had been taken into consideration. I held my complaints, for we’d yet to undertake the most important task: the creation of the bridal gown. I could handle having roses instead of lilies and hiring a string quartet instead of a single violinist for the church, but the gown would be my taste.

After standing on the pedestal at the dressmaker’s for nearly two hours, I could hardly remember what design I wanted. Discarded fabric bolts lay in a pile, rejected. Miss Margaret, our seamstress, was pinning the beaded ivory fabric we had chosen for my shift. I tried to remain still, but it was taking so long the excitement was wearing thin. Even so, I did my best to watch Mother, who continually pointed out details to Abigail, our maid. Poor Abigail had been brought along to collect our packages and take them home before we had lunch with the ladies. It wasn’t a part of her duties, but Mother insisted that having her with us would turn people’s heads. In my opinion, we looked pompous, but I could only fight with Mother so often.

“I dare not lace her any tighter or I’ll crack a rib,” Miss Margaret explained while keeping a protective hand on my back.

Mother frowned and tapped her finger on her lips. She paced back and forth in front of me and clucked her tongue. “People must remember this wedding. It needs to be the social event of the year. For that to happen, Isabelle must be breathtaking.”

“But, Mother,” I said between the shallow breaths the lacing permitted. “Need I be breathless in order to be breathtaking? Or perhaps you wish my guests to remember this wedding due to the bride fainting.”

“Impertinence is not an enjoyable quality,” Mother declared. “And it is certainly not a quality that Gregory will put up with.”

I glared at her as Miss Margaret filled her mouth with pins for another adjustment. I knew that neither Senator Quincy nor Uncle Walter would be interested in Gregory’s career if he weren’t joining our family. Despite that, Mother’s words set off a warning alarm. Marriage would not gain me independence, but a husband I would be sworn to “love, honor, and obey.”

I made eye contact with Abigail in the mirror, imploring her to say something. Someone had to be on my side. After a moment she stepped forward and cleared her throat.

Abigail glanced from Mother to me, and the weight of what I was asking fell upon my shoulders. She couldn’t speak against Mother, not without consequences. Even so, Abigail walked to the far side of the room and flipped through a catalog on the side table.

“Pardon me, Miss Isabelle,” Abigail said, holding up the book. “But didn’t you ask me to remind you of a design you saw in Godey’s?”

“Oh my, yes. Thank you, Abigail. I nearly forgot!” Ignoring Miss Margaret, I stepped off the platform and rushed for the book in Abigail’s hand. She’d opened it to the fashion plate in the beginning, and her finger pointed to the center girl. The skirt had countless layers in varying lengths, each finished with a ruffled hem. The effect made the waist look smaller without seeming garish.

“See, Mother?” I handed her the book. “I thought, perhaps, this kind of skirt would look wonderful. See how the layers give the illusion of a tiny waist?”

Abigail took a bolt of fabric from Mother’s grasp and placed it back on the rack. Adjusting the book in her hands, Mother examined the gown. Her tongue clicked again and she tilted her head.

“Very well,” she relented. “However, the bodice on this is all wrong. This high cut is too matronly. Perhaps if we lowered it to here?” She pointed to just above my bosom. “And then. . .