much less the husband? Questions seemed to be floating around me like fluffy dandelions, more with every passing moment as we drove out of the city.
I smiled at Samantha and nodded. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how much I was helping her. She was escaping her fears and holding on to her beauty and her youth. She would be a mother, yes, but one with a nanny. The birth of her child would make almost no change in her life. She might even love him or her the way she once loved one of her precious dolls.
Yes, I thought, despite what you wish, how different we really are.
Between the two of us, there wasn’t a moment of silence for practically the entire trip. Dr. Davenport spoke to Parker but rarely turned around to look at us unless Samantha brought him into the conversation to confirm something she had said about Wyndemere. I thought she was exaggerating with her descriptions. It sounded more like an English castle, but when we were approaching it and the lake, I realized that if anything, she had understated what their home was.
The house itself was a nineteenth-century Gothic Revival. Dr. Davenport confirmed that the house was over fifteen thousand square feet. It had a dark-gray stone face, with louvered vinyl black shutters, towering brick chimneys, and gargoyles like the ones I had seen in pictures of Notre Dame in Paris. There was elaborate outside lighting, but night had fallen, and the hedges and fountains were silhouetted against an inky backdrop. As we turned into the driveway, I could see that the land rolled down toward the lake, a glimmering slice of silver.
“I can’t wait until you see it all in daylight,” Samantha said. “Right after breakfast, we’ll take a walk to the lake.”
“No,” Dr. Davenport said. “Right after breakfast, Emma will be going with me to see Franklin.”
“Oh. Of course. How silly of me,” Samantha said. “But there’ll be time to take walks later, right, Harrison?”
“She’ll take many walks, I’m sure. Franklin will want that.”
Samantha grimaced, as if my reason for being here was primarily to be her friend and only as a side purpose was I here to carry her and Dr. Davenport’s baby.
Dr. Davenport turned to her and smiled. “Don’t overwhelm her, darling. Elizabeth will take care of that,” he said.
“Oh, and will she,” Samantha said, laughing.
How strange, I thought. He refers to his mother by her given name.
We pulled up to the front entrance. Dr. Davenport stepped out, but Samantha didn’t move until Parker came around to open her door and then mine. He fetched my suitcase, and we all approached the grand, large wooden front doors with their embossed figurines that depicted two sprawling trees. Dr. Davenport opened the door and stepped back. He glanced at me, to see my reaction to all this, I’m sure.
I had been to castles that had belonged to wealthy noblemen and relatives of the king, but I was still impressed with Wyndemere’s elegant beige foyer with a Louis XVI console. The main entrance had an open staircase, molded cornices, and a red-marble fireplace.
“You’ll be in the bedroom nearest to ours,” Samantha said.
“Why don’t you take her there, freshen up, and we’ll see about some light dinner?” Dr. Davenport said. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Marlene.”
“She’s our cook,” Samantha quickly added. “We can take it from here, Parker.” She reached for my suitcase.
“Oh, I can carry that,” I said.
“Nonsense. Anyway, it’s so small. I can manage.”
Then why couldn’t I? I wondered. Did she already see me as pregnant? I let her have the small suitcase.
“You should see the suitcases my mother-in-law has with her, even for a few days of travel. Besides, you’re a visitor, and we have to treat you in the manner the Davenports treat their guests. For a while, anyway,” she added, smiling.
“I’ll speak to Mrs. Marlene and then be in my office,” Dr. Davenport said.
“That, our bedroom, and the dining room are practically the only rooms in this mansion he uses, but mainly his office,” Samantha said with feigned disapproval. “It’s not difficult to find him.”
He laughed and started away.
Before we reached the second step on the stairway, a woman I would soon know was Elizabeth Davenport stepped out of the living room. She was in a floral lace high-low cocktail dress with a string of small diamonds around her neck and matching diamond earrings. Her dyed brown hair looked so sprayed that you would need a comb with steel