Chapter 21
Dr. Ellis brought over a bottle of medicine to the house, purgatives that left Thomas exhausted and even paler than before.
The mixture, Ellis explained with a touch of pride, was his own formulation, a mineral-based tonic that accelerated the expulsion
of digestive acids from the patient’s system.
“It’s just as I thought and the laboratory results proved your husband suffers from intestinal parasites,” he said. “It’s
affecting Mr. Stanton more severely than usual, but everyone’s different.”
“Parasites,” Caroline said, “you’re absolutely sure?”
“Yes, my dear,” he said, “the lab results are very definite so it’s nothing to worry your pretty head about. Your husband
will recover on his own, and for now, just make sure he stays in bed, eats only bland food, and drinks lots of liquids to
prevent dehydration. I’ll leave more laudanum so he can sleep.”
“Doctor, he’s in so much pain,” she said. “I didn’t think it would be so painful and I can’t bear it. Is there anything stronger
you can give him? The laudanum isn’t enough. I used to give my mother morphine injections during her final illness.”
“An injection of morphine?” he said. “It’s addictive, but for just a few days, it should be fine. It will allow him to sleep
comfortably.”
“Thomas, my dear,” Caroline said, leaning over him, “are you willing to take an injection?”
He groaned and doubled up. “Anything.”
The morphine was like a small miracle. Thomas’s body unclenched and he fell into a deep sleep. Dr. Ellis left some vials and
a syringe behind for Caroline. “Purgatives and some proper rest will help him get rid of the parasites.”
Thomas had been taking the medication for two days with no signs of improvement, but the doctor remained undaunted and very
certain. That made it easier for Caroline to turn down Mrs. Easton’s offer when she telephoned the older woman to explain
why she couldn’t go to the American Ladies Club board meeting. Mrs. Easton had inquired which doctor was treating Thomas.
“Dr. Ellis? You didn’t say Ellis, did you?” The woman sounded horrified. “Why, Caroline, he’s an old soak. Only good for prescribing
laudanum and medicinal tonics that are mostly alcohol. I’ll send you my own doctor.”
“According to the laboratory results, Thomas has a case of intestinal parasites,” Caroline said, “and my understanding is
that it’s the sort of thing people get over by themselves, with or without a doctor. It’s hit him harder than most people
but I’m sure he’ll be all right. Please don’t worry.”
When conscious, Thomas suffered terribly, groaning so loudly sometimes the sound of his pain echoed through the corridor.
She gave him Ellis’s tonic twice a day, washed down with lemon water. Then morphine to ease the pain and make him sleep.
Mason spent less time at home, often staying in the city for dinner. “I’m terribly busy these days,” he said, “since I’m also
doing Thomas’s work.”
Caroline guessed it was because Thomas’s illness distressed him.
Well, she no longer cared about Mason. It was actually very convenient to have him out of the house so that she could deal with other problems. She had been lying awake over her upcoming appointment with Grey, the days both dragging on and winging by too quickly. Grey could take all this away from her.
Which was so unfair because the thing was, she hadn’t actually planned to take over Caroline Vessey’s life.
Her parents had been in catastrophic debt. She learned this once they died, both at the same time and from the same undiagnosed
illness after a holiday. A holiday to Italy they couldn’t afford, as she learned while they were away and she saw for herself
the payment demands and bills that poured in. Her parents died leaving her next to nothing. She wrote to classmates from her
time at boarding school, girls she’d counted as friends.
Caroline Vessey, also recently orphaned, had been the only one to reply. In a gesture of empathy, Caroline offered to bring
her to New York and into the Dominic household as a companion. This offer almost didn’t succeed, thanks to Mrs. Dominic, who
gave in only because Caroline refused to leave the apartment unless she agreed.
Caroline Vessey considered her a friend, their bond forged as roommates during boarding school. Mrs. Dominic, however, considered
her merely another girl of good family come down in the world; the woman was not inclined to charity, not unless there were
social benefits involved. But for once, the timid and self-effacing young woman stood up to her aunt and insisted on giving
her former classmate a job. She stated firmly that she would pay the wages from her own trust fund.
“My aunt says you can be a maid,” Caroline said. She was almost in tears when they met at Grand Central Station in New York.
“But I won’t treat you as a maid, you know that.” From Caroline’s demeanor, anyone would’ve thought she was the supplicant
and not the other way around.
In the Dominics’ apartment, she lived in a closet-size room beside Caroline’s huge bedchamber.
She came to know the city well, often running errands because Caroline had developed a terror of leaving the huge apartment.
She soothed Caroline through her frequent fits of anxiety, calmed her before Mrs. Dominic’s parties, where Caroline was expected to shine and attract eligible suitors.
She helped Caroline get ready, rolling the fine straight hair into something approximating the latest style, selecting dresses and jewelry to flatter her pallid complexion, all the while making light of the guests who would be there, hoping laughter would dispel Caroline’s anxious expression long enough to get her through the evening.
Mrs. Dominic soon understood how much her pale, peculiar niece depended on this impoverished school friend, especially since Caroline often descended into hysterics at the thought of meeting new people.
How tired she became of all this, of being grateful for her small room, the hand-me-down clothes. For the first two years
in New York, she had moved through a fog of confusion and distress, humiliated by her changed circumstances. But now, after
four years, the numbness had subsided and it was getting harder not to snap at Caroline and her whining insecurities. You
have everything, she wanted to scream at the petulant mouth, the blinking eyes. Enjoy your life instead of hiding in your
room!
She was achingly aware of her dependence on the Dominics’ goodwill. Aware also of Mr. Dominic’s growing interest in her. During
the cross-country train journey, he managed to be in the carriage’s corridor whenever she walked through, placing himself
in her way so that she had to squeeze past him. She held herself in as much as possible to avoid pressing against his paunch,
but even so, his hands always brushed her hips even when there was ample room for them to pass each other without touching.
Perhaps things would change when they reached Seattle.
Mr. Dominic had bought a construction company there.
Seattle was expanding and housing could barely keep pace.
He planned to build a mansion in Seattle, a grand villa, so that Mrs. Dominic wouldn’t miss their Fifth Avenue apartment whenever they were out West.
She would take a look around when they arrived in Seattle. Somehow she would find a way to be free of the Dominics. After
all, she wasn’t without skills. Music, dancing, etiquette, which fork to use. How to manage a household of servants. She could
teach the daughters of social-climbing mothers all the social graces her expensive boarding school had provided. She was prepared
to do the work. She had learned some hard lessons after her parents died, sorting through the tangle of their debts on her
own.
In the meantime, however, she couldn’t complain and she still had to be careful. So on their journey, when Caroline came to
her compartment that night, she made lively conversation while they snuggled to keep warm. She made Caroline laugh, recalling
how they’d hidden Katherine van Dusen’s white stockings before a dance recital. They argued over which of their teachers had
been the worst, until finally Caroline yawned.
“Could you get me some water?” Caroline asked, already half asleep. “You know how I like to have water by my bed at night.”
“Of course,” she said, swinging her legs out of bed. She reached for her bathrobe, found Caroline’s fur coat instead, and
put her arms through it, felt the fine, luxurious mink warm her almost instantly. On the way back from the dining room, she
stumbled and fell, sprawling to her hands and knees, dropping the glass of water. The rail carriage shuddered. There was a
creaking sound, then a rumble, not of engines or thunder, but something deeper and slower and unfamiliar. She heard screams.
Then the world rolled over on its side, over and over, and then there was only oblivion.
And then Thomas found her.
Snowplows finally arrived, bringing more rescue workers and doctors.
Along with other survivors, she was carried to a railway carriage that had been set up as a hospital ward.
The train took them to Spokane, where she stayed in the hospital for a week.
The hospital was blessed with an active group of volunteers who turned up in force, women who supplemented the beleaguered staff, helping to feed and bathe survivors, keeping them company, praying with them or for them.
One of these volunteers now settled herself on a cane chair by the bed.
“I’m Helen Cannon, president of the hospital’s volunteer organization,” the woman said. She was well-dressed, a fur stole
pinned around her shoulders. “How’s your head today?”
“I still don’t remember much,” she said, “but I think my head hurts less than yesterday.”
“You were asleep earlier when Mr. Stanton came by,” Mrs. Cannon said. “He has never missed a day. He said to tell you he would
come by again in a few hours.”