An Unnatural Situation
Clinton Holsworthy reeled with shock and grief when his young wife died. In the year 1890, it was estimated that only one in a hundred women died in childbirth. Although the odds were in her favor, Sybil Holsworthy turned out to be the one fatality.
"What went wrong?" he challenged the attending physician. "You assured me my wife would get the best medical care."
The obstetrician, one of the finest in Boston, had no satisfactory answer for him.
"Your wife was a delicate woman. Giving birth to one child would have been a strain on her, but two! It was obviously more than her body could bear."
Sybil's death left Clinton a widowed father of two infant girls. Most men in his situation would have married again, if not for love or companionship, then to provide a suitable stepmother for their daughters. But Holsworthy had been deeply in love with his late wife and swore no one would ever take her place. As for the little girls, the grieving father doted on them. Rather than seeing them as a burden or an unwanted responsibility, he considered them his salvation. They were all that he had left of his beloved Sybil. As a consequence, the multimillionaire financier proved to be an uncommonly protective father.
By the time Daphne and Mercedes Holsworthy were six years old, it was apparent to everyone that the sisters would grow up to become exceedingly beautiful women. Their hair was the same shade of red as their mother's, their eyes the same color green. The girls' strong likeness to their mother was a great source of pride and pleasure for their father. It also filled him with a sense of awe and spiritual comfort. He had only to look at his daughters to appreciate the mystery of life and the ongoing cycle of birth, death and renewal.
Given all the love and attention the man showered on his children, it was only natural that Daphne and Mercedes adore their father. There was only one problem: there were two of them and only one of him. This gave birth to a fierce rivalry between the sisters. Such feelings are not uncommon between siblings, but the natural bond that often exists between twins appeared to be absent in Clinton's daughters.
When the Holsworthy sisters blossomed into womanhood, the people of Covington naturally assumed they would wed wealthy young men and take their rightful place in society. Yet for Daphne and Mercedes, there were no debutante balls or grand tours of Europe. Worse, not long after their twentieth birthday, Clinton suffered a stroke that left him partially paralyzed. It looked as though the girls were doomed to spinsterhood and a life devoted to caring for their father.
* * *
"It ain't natural," declared Hetty Everhart, the town's most notorious gossip. "Two young women cooped up in that big old house with no one but a crippled old man for company."
"Surely you don't think there's something immoral going on?" asked Myrtle Snow, owner of the combination general store and post office.
Shrugging her shoulders, Hetty replied, "Who knows? Rich people don't have the same values we do."
"Maybe Clinton Holsworthy will have another stroke—God forgive me for saying so! With him gone, those two girls could lead a more normal life."
"Normal?" Hetty echoed. "When old Holsworthy dies, they'll inherit more than ten million dollars. What kind of normal life can they hope to have?"
The two women laughed, but Myrtle detected a hint of envy beneath Hetty's middle-class socialism.
Meanwhile, in the dry goods aisle of the general store, a stranger in town, a traveling salesman who had hoped to convince Mrs. Snow to stock his employer's brand of laundry soap, was paying close attention to the women's conversation.
Gage McIver was a successful salesman, due in no small part to his boyishly handsome face and innate charm. While his good looks had no effect on male customers, they seldom failed on women. He waited until Hetty left the store before approaching Myrtle.
"Good day, madam," he said, his blue eyes twinkling and his smile accentuating his dimples.
"What can I do for you, young man?" the shopkeeper asked, unconsciously softening her voice.
The salesman placed his sample case on the counter and began his pitch. It was another easy sale since he had sold Myrtle on himself before he even opened the lid of his sample case.
As he was writing the necessary information in his order book, Gage casually asked, "Do you know where I can find a Mr. Clinton Holsworthy? He's next on my list of sales calls."
"Yes, I do," Myrtle replied. "He lives in the grand mansion on the corner of Ocean and Atlantic Avenues, but I don't think he'll be interested in purchasing laundry soap."
"Doesn't he own the grocery store over in Fairfield?"
"Heavens, no! He was a banker before his stroke. Now he's an invalid."
"It seems someone has given me the wrong information," Gage said, making a convincing pretense of crossing a name out of his book.
After concluding his business with Myrtle, the salesman left the store and traveled to Fairfield where he rented a cheap, furnished room above a barber shop. He removed his bankbook from his suitcase and checked the balance. He did not have much money, but it would have to do until he had successfully courted and married one of the Holsworthy sisters.
* * *
It had been a long, cold winter, but thankfully spring arrived at last. Daphne rolled her father's wheelchair outside onto the veranda so he could nap in the warm sun and fresh air.
"Would you like me to read to you, Father?" the devoted daughter asked.
"That would be nice, my dear."
Daphne went into the house and returned momentarily with a leatherbound volume of British poetry. Her father had always enjoyed the writings of Shelley and Byron, but before long, Clinton Holsworthy nodded his head and dozed off.
Daphne closed the book and placed a blanket over his legs. Then she walked to the garden and began removing the dead leaves that had settled around her mother's rose bushes during the winter.
"Kneeling in the dirt is not a suitable position for a goddess."
The young woman was startled by the voice that came from the wooded area adjacent to her father's property.
"I'm sorry," Gage declared, with his no-fail smile. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
Daphne's heart fluttered, and her pale complexion darkened with a maidenly blush. She knew that propriety forbade her from conversing with a man to whom she had not been introduced, but there was no one nearby to chastise her for a lapse in judgment. Besides, she found the stranger irresistibly attractive.
"Who are you, sir, and what are you doing sneaking around in the woods?"
Her tone was imperious, but her eyes were bright with amusement.
"I could lie and tell you I lost my way, but I won't. The truth is I've heard rumors that the fairest face in all New England could be found in this garden."
Although Daphne was not what people considered a worldly girl, she was no fool either. She knew not to trust a handsome man with a gift for flattery, yet there was something different about the amiable stranger, something that drew her out of her emotional shell.
"I can't imagine where you heard such a thing," she laughed, enjoying the playful banter.
"A muse told me."
"A muse? You're a poet then. Perhaps I've read some of your work. What is your name?"
"'What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"
Daphne clapped her hands in mock applause.
"Well done, Mr. Shakespeare, or may I call you William?"
"You may call me Romeo, if I may call you the fair Juliet."
Daphne's smile granted her consent.
* * *
A week later, Gage McIver waited in the copse of trees for Daphne to appear. Since their first encounter, they met each day when Holsworthy took his midday nap. That afternoon, however, his young Juliet was nowhere in sight.
"There you are!" Gage said with relief when she finally walked into the garden. "I was afraid you were going to stand me up today."
When the woman's face registered surprise and fear, the salesman realized his mistake.
"You're not Daphne, are you?"
"No. I'm her sister, Mercedes."
"You look just like her," he said and then laughed with embarrassment. "How stupid of me! You're twins; of course, you look alike."
Mercedes relaxed, and her face lost the look of a frightened doe. Upon closer examination, Gage spotted subtle differences between the twins. Daphne's eyes were alive with humor and passion, while Mercedes' were soft and somewhat sad. Daphne was a spirited young woman who could bewitch a man with little effort. Mercedes, on the other hand, appeared to be shy and vulnerable.
In Daphne's absence, Gage was drawn into conversation with her sister. There was no playful exchange as with Daphne, but Mercedes could speak intelligently on a wide range of subjects.
Thus, the handsome salesman developed a close relationship with both sisters.
* * *
With his money running out, Gage was faced with a difficult decision: to which of the twins should he propose? He would be happy to marry either sister, but if he proposed to one and was rejected, would the other feel angry at being his second choice?
The decision was taken out of his hands, however, when one afternoon, while Gage was sitting in the garden holding Mercedes' hand, Clinton woke up early from his nap and rolled himself outside onto the veranda. When the possessive father saw his daughter alone with a man, he lost his temper.
"Mercedes!" he barked angrily. "Get back inside the house!"
Daphne, the more spirited of the twins, might have objected. She might even have defiantly refused to go inside. Mercedes, on the other hand, was submissive and obedient and immediately did as she was told.
"You are not welcome here, young man," the wealthy financier told the young suitor. "Go now and don't ever come back."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir. Mercedes and I have become good friends. In fact, I've grown quite fond of both your daughters."
Holsworthy's eyes hardened, and his hands tightly gripped the arms of his wheelchair.
"You are never to set foot on my property again. Is that clear?"
"No, sir. Despite your objections, I intend to marry your daughter."
Holsworthy did not ask which of his daughters McIver intended to marry, since the young man's desires were irrelevant to him.
"I've seen fortune hunters like you before, handsome young men eager to ally themselves with a rich family. I assure you, you won't succeed here."
* * *
Gage returned to the garden the following day at his usual time, but neither of the sisters was there.
"That damned old man!" he cursed as he returned to his rented room in Fairfield. "He thinks he owns those girls. Well, he's not going to keep me away, not if I have anything to say about it!"
When no one met him again the following day, he boldly walked up to the house and knocked on the door. He had spent too much time courting the twins to be turned away empty-handed.
It was Daphne who answered.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, nervously glancing over her shoulder to see if her father was nearby. "I can't see you anymore. Father forbids it."
"Must you always do as he tells you?"
"Of course. He's my father."
"And I want to be your husband."
Gage would have said the same thing had Mercedes answered the door.
Daphne's smile returned.
"Husband? You want to marry me?"
"You seem surprised; don't you know I love you?"
"And what about my sister?"
It was a question Gage had dreaded, but one for which he had prepared an answer.
"Naturally, I admire her. She's a beautiful girl; she looks just like you. But as wonderful as she is, she's not you. You're the one I love."
His reply seemed to satisfy the young woman.
"What are we going to do about my father?" she asked conspiratorially. "He'll never give his consent."
"Then we'll marry without it. You're of age. Legally, he can't stop you from marrying."
"No, but I can disown her and leave her without a penny!" a stern voice declared from the hallway.
"Father!"
"We don't need your money," Gage bluffed.
Holsworthy laughed harshly.
"No? Your suit looks a bit threadbare to me. Are you certain you're financially able to take on a wife?"
Daphne stepped in before the argument escalated.
"I think you should leave now," she told Gage. "Come. I'll show you out."
When the two lovebirds were out of Holsworthy's earshot, the girl threw herself into the young man's arms and whispered, "Give my father some time. I'm sure he'll come around."
But McIver could not afford to wait much longer. He was nearly broke.
* * *
The peace of the mansion on the corner of Ocean and Atlantic was shattered by Mercedes' scream, but there was no one to hear her, for she was alone in the house with her father's dead body. She phoned the only person, other than her father, she had ever trusted: Dr. Harmon Ewell, her mother's brother.
At his niece's summons, Dr. Ewell left the hospital and hurried to the mansion. When he walked into the house, he found his brother-in-law's corpse slumped forward in his wheelchair. Someone had hit him on the head with a blunt object with enough force to kill him.
"What happened?" Ewell asked after a cursory examination of the body.
It was Daphne, not Mercedes, who replied.
"I came home and found him like this. Father must have surprised a burglar who then hit him over the head with that bookend," she explained, pointing to the murder weapon.
Dr. Ewell did not accept his niece's version of events. A robber was not likely to enter a house in broad daylight, especially when someone was at home. And even if the culprit were foolhardy enough to do so, why would he kill an unarmed man confined to a wheelchair? Clinton Holsworthy was not likely to have apprehended the thief.
"I've heard rumors that a stranger has been lurking around the woods out back. Perhaps he ...."
"No!" Daphne cried, immediately jumping to Gage's defense. "That man is my fiancé. He wouldn't have hurt my father."
Dr. Ewell was flabbergasted. His brother-in-law had never allowed his daughters to have even casual friendships with men.
"Did your father know about your betrothal?" he asked with suspicion.
"Of course. Gage is a fine young man. When he asked for my hand, my father gave us his blessing."
Ewell knew his niece was lying, but her attempts to protect the man she loved stirred his heart.
"I doubt the police will believe your burglar story. They're more likely to suspect your father was killed because he was opposed to the marriage."
The thought of Gage being accused of her father's murder and possibly being executed for the crime devastated the young woman. She collapsed onto the floor and sobbed pitifully.
"Shhh! Don't cry," her uncle comforted her.
"Can't you help us? You're a doctor. Surely there's something you can do."
"I suppose we could make Clinton's death look like an accident."
Daphne threw her arms around Harmon's neck and hugged him tightly.
"I knew I could count on you!" she cried with gratitude. "I don't know how I can ever thank you."
"You can help me move your father's body to the foot of the stairs."
Once the corpse was placed in a more convincing position, Dr. Ewell took the wheelchair up to the second-floor landing and staged the crime scene to make it appear as though Holsworthy had accidentally fallen down the stairs and struck his head.
Fortunately, for everyone's sake, the police believed the doctor's explanation of events.
* * *
Word of Clinton Holsworthy's tragic death quickly spread through Covington, thanks to Hetty Everhart, the town gossip.
"Those poor girls!" Myrtle Snow declared.
"I say it's a blessing in disguise. Now they can get out of that house and into the world as the good Lord intended. I always said it wasn't natural the way their father cut them off from outside contacts."
Yet Hetty had not expected the girls' liberation to be so scandalous. Less than a week after her father's body was interred, Daphne married Gage McIver. In deference to the bride's recent loss, the couple elected to have a small, private ceremony, attended only by the bride's uncle.
Gage was surprised that Mercedes was not present. Perhaps she was jealous, he thought. Yet once the minister pronounced the couple man and wife—thereby drastically improving the groom's financial situation—his sister-in-law's feelings no longer mattered. When the former salesman moved into the Holsworthy mansion following the wedding, however, he was stunned to learn that Clinton had left his money to his brother-in-law, not to his daughters.
"There must be a mistake," Gage told the lawyers when he learned the details of the will. "Daphne and Mercedes are his children. They stayed in that house at his side all those years. They even nursed him back to health after his stroke. How could he have cut them both out of his will?"
"Mr. Holsworthy trusted his brother-in-law to see that his daughters would always be taken care of," the attorney explained.
The fact that Harmon Ewell had control over Daphne's finances stuck in her husband's craw.
"I am quite capable of looking after my wife and her money," he insisted.
The lawyer knew a cad when he saw one and was anxious to be rid of the bounder.
"Your ability to care for your wife is not germane to the issue. Mr. Holsworthy was of sound mind when that will was drawn up, so I fully intend to honor my client's wishes regarding the disposition of his estate."
Upon leaving the lawyer's office, Gage returned home in an angry, sullen mood. He had hoped his marriage would secure his future, but it did nothing of the sort. Rather than having a private source of funds, he would have to beg an allowance from his wife's uncle in order to get by.
When he walked into the house, no one was there to greet him. Daphne was out on the veranda reading a book, and Mercedes, who had apparently still not accepted her sister's marriage, had taken up residence on the third floor. Gage went into Holsworthy's study and helped himself to the dead man's best brandy.
"I didn't know you were home," his wife said.
"I just got back."
He downed his drink in one swallow and poured himself another.
"I want you to do me a favor," he continued. "I want you to invite your uncle to dinner. There's something I need to discuss with him."
"Certainly. When did you want to see him?"
"Tonight, if you can arrange it."
As usual, Daphne had no difficulty getting her uncle to do her bidding.
* * *
Gage waited until after the meal was over to speak with the doctor. While the housekeeper cleared away the dinner dishes, the two men went into the study.
"I asked my wife to invite you here tonight," Gage informed his guest. "I need to talk to you concerning a personal matter."
"You're not ill, are you?" Ewell inquired.
"No. I don't want to speak to you in your capacity as a physician but as the executor of my father-in-law's estate."
Ewell raised an eyebrow but remained silent. He had suspected that the man was only interested in his niece's money but prayed he was wrong.
"I gave up my job to marry Daphne," Gage claimed. "It may take me some time to find another. I was hoping you could help me out financially."
"Of course," the doctor readily agreed. "It's the least I can do for my niece's husband."
He reached into his pocket, took out a pen, wrote a name and phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to Gage.
"That's Mr. Donaldson's number. He does all the hiring at the hospital. I'm sure he can find a suitable position for you."
Gage suppressed his anger and swallowed his pride.
"I wasn't asking you for a job. I need money. I can't very well go around in these old clothes. I must dress in a style befitting Daphne's husband."
"I don't believe my niece cares one way or another how you dress."
"Look, Doctor, I'm broke, and my wife's father had millions. I don't see why I can't have a weekly stipend for my personal use."
"You look like a strong, healthy young man. You're also smart and quite personable. Therefore, I don't believe you'll have any difficulty obtaining gainful employment. There's no reason you should be forced to accept charity from your wife."
It was not easy for Gage to control the fury that raged within him, but somehow, he managed to do so.
"Was there anything else?" Harmon asked.
The young man shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.
"Good. Now that we've come to an understanding about my niece's inheritance, I trust there'll be no more requests for money."
* * *
Out of economic necessity, Gage was forced to take a job selling farm equipment. It was easy work, but he hated having to be in anyone's employ. At the end of each workday, he returned to the mansion, but he felt no joy in living there. It was not his home; it was his wife's, and he felt like a boarder.
Daphne could not comprehend why her husband had transformed from an ardent suitor to a moody, withdrawn stranger. Like many wives who feel insecure and unloved, she began to nag her husband, accusing him of not paying enough attention to her and not appreciating the things she did for him.
Between the tedium of his job and the disharmony at home—not to mention the humiliation he felt whenever he encountered Harmon Ewell—Gage was a miserable man. He was also a desperate one, eager to rectify the mistake he had made in marrying and get on with his life.
As the end of summer neared, he devised a plan to do just that.
* * *
One rainy, chilly autumn afternoon, Gage came home early, walked into the parlor and started a fire.
"Things were slow at work," he told his wife, "and I thought it would be nice for us to spend some time together. I don't suppose we have any apple cider left?"
Gage acted the part of the loving husband, all the while biding his time. He waited until Daphne left the room to get her shawl. Then he took the packet of sleeping powder out of his pocket, sprinkled the drug into his wife's mug and stirred the cider until the powder dissolved.
If the sleeping draught had an unpleasant taste, his wife did not notice it, or perhaps the spices in the cider masked it. Either way, Daphne finished the mug of cider, unaware that her husband had doctored it. Twenty minutes later, she was sound asleep.
Her husband moved quickly. He went first to her dresser, took out her jewelry and stuffed it into a pillowcase. Then he took her silver comb and brush set, her father's gold watch and her mother's wedding ring. While Daphne slept peacefully on the sofa, he searched the rooms on the first and second floors, stealing all the small valuables he could find. Careful not to make any noise to alert his sister-in-law, he walked down the third-floor hall to the attic steps.
When Gage opened the door at the top of the staircase, he had expected to find himself in a large, open area, used primarily for storage. Instead, he walked into a spare bedroom, probably once used by servants. He was about to leave when he spied a young child lying asleep on a canopy bed.
Why on earth is a child being kept hidden in the attic? he wondered.
There was only one possible explanation. One of the sisters, most likely the sad, vulnerable Mercedes, had given birth out of wedlock and was keeping her offspring hidden on the top floor of the house, far away from the prying eyes and wagging tongues of her Covington neighbors.
Gage did not hear the footsteps on the stairs, so he was taken by surprise when his wife came through the door.
"Daphne?"
The unsuspecting husband never saw the blow coming.
* * *
Dr. Harmon Ewell was just finishing his rounds at the hospital when he received his niece's urgent call. He sighed, wondering how long he could postpone the inevitable. Sooner or later, he would have to do something about her. Clinton Holsworthy had been a sick old man who would not have lived much longer. Gage McIver—well, he was a blackguard who had intended to take advantage of his niece, so Ewell felt he had deserved what he got. As for the first time, that had been an accident. But with each subsequent death, his niece became less remorseful and more likely to resort to violence again.
"Where is he?" Ewell asked when he entered the Holsworthy mansion.
"In the attic."
Ewell nodded and walked toward the staircase.
"Uncle Harmon," Daphne called. "I don't know if he's dead or just unconscious."
* * *
Gage opened his eyes and winced at the sharp pain in his head. The last thing he remembered was seeing his wife come through the door with the bookend in her hand. His anger flared, and he resolved to teach her a lesson before he left the house for good.
He tried to stand, but dizziness swept over him. He pitched forward onto the bed, next to the child.
Gage's screams startled Dr. Ewell and Daphne who were on their way to the attic. Not only was his niece's husband not dead, the doctor realized, but he was also no longer unconscious.
"Stay behind me," Harmon cautioned, even though he suspected his niece was far more dangerous than her husband.
* * *
Gage backed away from the bed until he bumped against the wall. Suddenly, his wife and her uncle burst into the room. The doctor stopped and stared in horror at the body on the bed.
"Who is she?" Gage cried.
The body was nearly unrecognizable, but Harmon immediately surmised the dead child's identity.
"That's my niece, Daphne."
* * *
Once Mercedes had been sedated, Dr. Ewell bandaged Gage McIver's head.
"You knew your niece was crazy, yet you did nothing. You might have at least warned me! She could have killed me!"
The doctor agreed, but in his own defense, he added, "I didn't believe you were in any real danger. She loves you."
"She loved her father, too. That didn't stop her from killing him, though, did it?"
Harmon knew Gage's anger was justified. He should have had his niece committed years ago.
"And what about Daphne? You must have known Mercedes killed her sister."
"Clinton and I believed the girl's drowning was an accident."
"Then why didn't you report it? Why the charade? Why did Mercedes pretend to be both girls all these years?"
Dr. Ewell turned his head away, as though by doing so he would not have to face the truth.
"It was my brother-in-law's decision. It was no secret that Mercedes was jealous of her sister, that she wanted her father all to herself. The police were bound to suspect her. Clinton had lost both his wife and Daphne. He certainly didn't want to risk losing Mercedes, too."
Gage shuddered at the memory of the child's decomposed corpse lying on the canopy bed in the attic. He could understand a father wanting to protect his remaining child, but he could not fathom why the man had not buried the dead girl's body, why he had tried to preserve it. Had he been so possessive of his daughters that he would want to hold on to them even beyond the grave?
* * *
Hetty Everhart went into the general store and post office to pick up her mail and pass on the latest gossip.
"I hear Doc Ewell is going to lose his medical license," she announced.
"He's getting off easy," Myrtle Snow replied. "He ought to go to jail for aiding and abetting."
"Or for being an accessory after the fact."
"At least that handsome young man made it out of the house alive," Myrtle said, remembering Gage's blue eyes and his infectious smile.
"What I'd like to know," Hetty said, "is who gets all that money now? Daphne is dead, and Mercedes will more than likely spend the rest of her life in Danvers State Lunatic Asylum. Does McIver get it or will Dr. Ewell keep it?"
"I don't know," Myrtle replied. "We'll just have to wait and see. Either way, I don't suppose that money will do anybody any good."
"That just goes to show you that the rich have their problems, too," Hetty concluded as she opened the door to leave. "As I said on more than one occasion, it was unnatural, those girls living alone in the house with a sick old man. And I was right, wasn't I?"
Salem doesn't think it's unnatural for cats to play with blue stuffed mice.
