The Usurper
After several years at sea, including four spent in the Union Navy, Captain Cooper Brooksmith returned to New England where he married his childhood sweetheart and took control of the family shipping business from his ailing father. Upon his parent's death, Cooper and his wife moved into the elegant Brooksmith Manor in New Bedford, Massachusetts.
Life on land suited the former sea captain. Not only did the family business prosper with him at the helm, but he was very much in love with his wife and happy in his marriage. His only disappointment was that his spouse, Hazel, was unable to conceive a child. Then, after two years of marriage, the Brooksmiths decided to take in the infant of an unwed mother. Aunt Hazel and Uncle Cooper, as they preferred to be called, doted on the child. Likewise, little Abby adored her guardians, who lavished love and attention on her. Furthermore, given the Brooksmith family's great wealth, the little girl wanted for nothing.
Only once, when she was seven years old, did Abby inquire about the identity of her real parents.
"Your mother was an unfortunate woman," Hazel explained, "too young to shoulder the responsibility of rearing a child. She wanted you to be raised by a loving family who could give you all the advantages she couldn't."
Abby was thoughtful for several moments, remembering the places her guardians had taken her, the gifts they had given her and the love they had always shown her.
"I'm glad my mother found you and Uncle Cooper," she finally concluded, kissing the older woman on the cheek.
Hazel felt her throat constrict as she blinked back her tears. She could not have loved Abby more if she were her own daughter.
* * *
When Abby was fourteen years old, Hazel announced that her sister, Mary Beth, would be arriving at Brooksmith Manor for an extended visit.
"I never knew you had a sister," the girl said with excitement.
"She's a good deal younger than I am," Hazel explained, "so we've never been very close. But she's sick and needs someone to take care of her. I can't very well refuse to help. She is family, after all."
Mary Beth arrived in New Bedford the following day.
"Thank you for letting me stay with you," she said. "You know I wouldn't have asked you to take me in if I had anywhere else to go."
"Don't be silly! You're always welcome here."
"Even though ...."
Mary Beth was temporarily silenced by the appearance of a young girl at the top of the staircase.
"Is that ...?"
"Yes, that's our ward," Hazel proudly declared. "Abby, come down and meet my sister."
"Hello, Aunt Mary Beth," the girl said with a polite curtsy. "I'm pleased to meet you."
"She's lovely," Mary Beth remarked.
Suddenly, the visitor's strength faltered and she swooned. Hazel and Abby led the sick woman to the parlor and sat her in a chair. Then Abby covered her with a warm quilt. The sickly woman smiled at the young girl, and a bond instantly developed between them.
Over the next several weeks, Mary Beth and Abby grew closer. The youngster came to love Aunt Hazel's sister, and the feeling was mutual. The developing relationship did not seem to bother Hazel. She was not jealous by nature, and she was delighted to see her sister fit so well into her family. A warm, nurturing person at heart, she readily assumed the role of mother to the two younger women.
"Are you two still awake?" she would ask whenever she went upstairs to kiss Abby goodnight and found the girl in her sister's room, giggling over some feminine foolishness.
"You sound like Mother used to," Mary Beth teased. "If you're not careful, you'll wind up old before your time."
"Well, one of us has to act like an adult," Hazel countered good-naturedly.
"Then let it be you," Mary Beth laughed, as she playfully tossed a pillow at her older sister.
"If you weren't sick, I'd put you over my knee like I used to when you were a child."
"You used to spank your sister?" Abby asked with disbelief.
"Occasionally," Hazel admitted. "You see, our mother was an invalid, and it was often left to me to mind my sister and brother."
"You have a brother, too?"
"I did," Hazel answered sadly. "He was killed at Gettysburg."
A poignant look passed between Hazel and her sister, one that the girl did not fully comprehend.
"I think I will go to sleep now," Mary Beth announced, all traces of her former playfulness gone.
By the following morning, however, the young woman's good spirits had returned. When Abby went downstairs to get a breakfast tray for the guest, she told her guardian the good news.
"She's upstairs singing. I wonder what was wrong with her last night. Do you think she misses your brother?"
"I'm sure she does, but there's more to it than that. The war was an awful time for people in the North as well as in the South. So many young men from New Bedford went off to fight and never came back."
"How come your sister never came to visit you before now?" the girl asked suddenly.
"During the war, the two of us went to stay with relatives in Boston. Once the fighting was over, I came back here and married your Uncle Cooper."
"And your sister stayed in Boston?"
"I believe so," Hazel replied, being deliberately evasive. "Neither of us likes to talk about that time in our lives, so I would suggest you don't mention the past to Mary Beth. It will only make her sad."
Abby heeded her aunt's advice. She limited her conversation to the newest fashions in Harper's Weekly and the latest gossip in New Bedford.
* * *
When the warm days of spring arrived, Mary Beth was well enough to play croquet with Abby on the side lawn of Brooksmith Manor. She also began taking her meals with the family in the dining room. While the girl was overjoyed to spend more time with her guardian's sister, Abby also feared that once Mary Beth's health returned, there would be no reason for her to stay in New Bedford. Once fully recovered, she would no doubt return to the life she had left behind.
It was the thought of her new friend leaving that led Abby to dream of finding her real parents. Perhaps they were now financially secure. They might even have more children. Somewhere Abby might have a sister or brother of her own. Consequently, as Mary Beth grew steadily stronger and more independent, Abby became more withdrawn.
It was Hazel who first noticed the change in her ward.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked, tenderly brushing a loose lock of hair from the girl's eyes.
"I've just been thinking about my mother."
The shocked expression on Hazel's face did not escape the girl.
"Please don't be offended. I love you and Uncle Cooper so much, but I can't help wondering about my real mother. I'd like to know if she ever misses me and wonders what has become of me."
"I'm sure your mother thinks about you," Hazel said, trying to hold her emotions in check.
"Do you know where she is? Or what her name is?"
This was the moment Hazel had dreaded for fourteen years.
Oh, why didn't I lie and say she was my own child? she thought.
"I can't remember. It was so long ago," Hazel sobbed.
Abby was immediately contrite.
"I'm sorry I upset you. Please forgive me."
The love that had existed for more than a decade drew the woman and girl together once again. They hugged each other, fiercely yet tenderly. Neither of them seemed to want to let go.
"To hell with the woman who gave birth to me," Abby declared passionately, her language taking Hazel by surprise. "You're my mother, and you always will be."
* * *
The weeks that followed were the happiest in Abby's life. She no longer dreamed of a "possible" family; rather, she enjoyed the one she had been given. During the mornings and afternoons, she spent time either at her lessons with Hazel or at games with Mary Beth, and in the evenings she played chess with Uncle Cooper or delighted him with her musical talent at the piano. Abby even stopped worrying that Mary Beth would leave them and return to Boston, for as long as she had Uncle Cooper and Aunt Hazel, she reasoned, she would be happy.
It was when the summer began to fade and the leaves on the trees donned their autumn finery that Abby's world crumbled. It began one morning at breakfast when she noticed the empty chair at the dining room table.
"Where is Aunt Mary Beth?" she asked.
A guarded look passed between the former sea captain and his wife.
"She's not feeling well this morning," Hazel answered.
"I'll take a tray up to her room," the girl volunteered.
Cooper laid his strong, masculine hand on the girl's small, delicate one and said, "I think she wants to be left alone today."
Abby pressed her guardians for an explanation.
"Why? What's the matter with her?"
"She usually gets this way at this time of year. Autumn brings out her melancholy nature."
Nearly fifteen years old, Abby was an educated, intelligent young woman. She knew that not all ailments were of the body, that some gripped the mind.
Later that morning, while her thoughts were supposed to be on Mr. Milton's Paradise Lost, Abby let her mind stray. A mental illness would explain some of the questions the girl had concerning Aunt Hazel's sister. She wondered—but thought it rude to ask—why such a beautiful woman, just over thirty years of age, was still unmarried, why she had no home of her own and why she had appeared seemingly out of nowhere on her sister's doorstep one day, sick and alone.
"Have you finished reading already?" Hazel asked when she saw her ward gazing out of the window instead of down at the book in her lap.
"No, I was just thinking."
"About what? Satan's expulsion from heaven, I hope."
"Why has Aunt Mary Beth never married?"
Hazel sighed. She saw no way out of her predicament. It was time for the truth to come out—or at least some of the truth.
"My sister was very young during the war, about your age, in fact. There was a boy, Ashley Babcock, whose family owned a farm in Lexington. He and my sister were good friends throughout their childhood. When the war came, he enlisted in the Union Army. My sister wrote to him while we were living in Boston, and the two decided to marry when he came home."
"He was killed, just like your brother, wasn't he?" Abby asked.
"He was only wounded, actually. But then he was taken prisoner. When Ashley returned to my sister after the surrender at Appomattox, he wasn't the same man. Either the Confederate prison or the war itself had a devastating effect on him."
"Did they get married?"
Hazel shook her head.
"Ashley felt he had nothing to offer a wife. He wanted to go west, to make some money—or so he said."
"So he went away and left her. Did she ever see him or hear from him again?"
"He didn't leave, after all. My sister was determined to hold on to him no matter what the cost. For months, she tried to delay his departure with one pretext or another. If I'd been there, I might have been able to talk some sense into her, but I was already married and living here at the time."
Guilt, long buried, resurfaced. Had Hazel taken better care of her sister, things might have turned out differently. But who was to say for certain?
"The next I heard from Mary Beth was a letter nearly a year later. She wrote to tell me that Ashley had hanged himself."
"Oh, no!"
"My sister was inconsolable. I wanted her to come live with us, but she chose to go away. She wanted to be far from all the agonizing memories New Bedford held for her."
"Did she stay in Boston?"
"No, she went to New York and then later to Philadelphia. I lost track of her after that until she sent me the letter telling me she was sick and asking if she could stay here until she got better."
"And she never fell in love again?"
"Apparently not. She still mourns Ashley. That's why she's so upset now. You see, today is the anniversary of his death."
* * *
Later that afternoon, Hazel went to her dressmakers for the final fitting of her new winter wardrobe. Abby decided to stay at home since she found it exceedingly boring to sit in a chair while the seamstress pinned linen pattern pieces to her aunt's figure.
"I want to sit in the garden and finish reading Milton," she told her guardian.
"That's an excellent idea. There won't be many more nice days left before winter."
While Abby sat amidst the chrysanthemums reading Paradise Lost, her thoughts again strayed to Mary Beth. She saw her as a sad, romantic heroine, right out of a Brontë novel. Hoping to bring a modicum of cheer to the woman's tragic life, Abby decided to pick some mums for her. She laid her book on the chair and walked into the potting shed for a pair of clippers. On the way out, she passed Uncle Cooper, who was returning home from work.
"What are you doing outside?" he asked.
"Aunt Hazel went to the dressmakers, so I decided to read in the garden. Now I want to pick a few mums for Aunt Mary Beth."
"That's sweet of you. I'm sure she'll love some."
Abby went into the garden and picked an armful of orange, yellow and purple mums. Then she went into the house and up the stairs, pausing in the hallway when she saw Mary Beth's bedroom door open.
She must be feeling better, the girl thought.
Smiling, Abby headed toward the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway, her smile frozen on her face at the sight of Mary Beth in Uncle Cooper's arms. The two appeared to be locked in a tender embrace, and Mary Beth kissed her sister's husband on the mouth.
Abby quietly fled the house. Outside, in a fit of rage at the thought of such betrayal, she tore the mums apart and scattered the petals around the garden.
"How dare she do that to her own sister?" Abby cried, laying all blame for the incident on Mary Beth, whom she suddenly saw as a usurper.
The full implications of the kiss then struck her. What if Hazel learned of it? Would she leave her husband or banish him from the house? Or—even worse—what if Uncle Cooper preferred the younger sister to his own wife? Either way, the marriage would end, and Abby's happy home would disappear.
"I wish she'd never come here," the girl cried, tightly clenching her fists. "I wish she'd died first."
Knowing that Hazel would be returning home soon, Abby tried to compose herself. She picked up the clippers and carried them back into the potting shed. On a shelf inside the small building, she saw the poison the gardener used to control the pests that preyed on the plants and flowers. Abby's smile returned, but it was not the smile of an innocent girl; rather, it was one laced with spite and malice.
* * *
The next day was even warmer than the previous one. Abby raced through her lessons, seemingly eager to go outside and enjoy the beautiful day.
"Why don't we have tea in the garden?" she asked her aunt. "It's so nice outside, and the cook made the most delicious-looking cakes this morning."
Abby's enthusiasm was infectious.
"That's a wonderful idea!" Hazel declared. "You and I can have a tea party like we used to when you were a little girl."
"Aunt Mary Beth must come, too," Abby insisted.
"Yes," Hazel agreed. "I'm sure my sister would enjoy it."
"Good. Then why don't you go upstairs and ask her while I get everything ready?"
When the two women went out into the garden, they were amazed at what Abby had done in such a short period of time. The table was set, and the tea and cakes were already placed at each setting.
"This chair is for you, Aunt Hazel," the girl cheerfully announced. "And this one for you, Aunt Mary Beth."
"Why, thank you, dear," the older of the two women remarked.
The younger said nothing, only smiled sadly.
Apparently, she's still in a melancholy mood, Abby thought, without sympathy.
"I'll pour," Hazel offered.
"No, allow me," Abby insisted.
"My, my! You're turning into quite a proper young lady. Cooper and I may not bother sending you to finishing school. Perhaps we'll simply marry you off to European royalty just as you are."
"Europe!" the girl laughed. "I wouldn't dream of leaving New Bedford. You'll just have to accept the fact that I'll be a spinster."
Mary Beth, hurt by the girl's thoughtless remark, wanted to leave the garden and return to the sanctuary of her bedroom, but she had not eaten the previous day, and the tea and cakes were so tempting.
* * *
Mary Beth did not appear at the dinner table that evening.
"Is she still upstairs crying?" Cooper asked his wife in a low voice so Abby could not hear. "Last evening she was quite bad. I tried to comfort her, but you know how she gets when she's around a man."
Hazel knew exactly what her husband meant. She had seen her sister throw herself at him—and other men—on more than one occasion. She knew Mary Beth meant nothing by her behavior, that it was only her loneliness that led her to such improper displays of affection. Certainly, Hazel was not jealous of her own sister. Besides, she trusted her husband completely. Cooper would never betray her, regardless of Mary Beth's halfhearted attempts to seduce him.
"I knocked on the door earlier. She told me she's not feeling well, an upset stomach or something."
Neither Cooper nor Hazel was alarmed. Most women—and Mary Beth in particular—occasionally suffered from female ailments, which were not normally discussed in mixed company. The couple never suspected that in the guest bedroom on the floor above, Mary Beth lay in her bed dying or that by morning she would be dead.
* * *
After the burial, the mourners gathered at Brooksmith Manor. Abby, who had stood at Hazel's side throughout the ordeal, offered what comfort she could. It tore the girl apart inside to know she had caused the pain and grief that tortured her guardian, but there was nothing else she could have done. Abby felt no guilt over Mary Beth's death, for she acted in defense of her family and to preserve her way of life.
When the mourners left, Hazel went upstairs to her room. A few moments later Abby took a tray up to her.
"I thought you might like some tea."
Hazel's tear-reddened eyes turned to her ward.
"You're so dear to me. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"No need to think about that. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here with you and Uncle Cooper forever."
When Abby turned to leave the room, her aunt called her back.
"Wait. There's something I must tell you, something I should have told you long ago."
"There's no need to discuss anything tonight. I'm sure it can wait until morning."
"No. It can't wait. If I don't tell you now, I may lose my courage and not tell you at all. I should have told you weeks ago, but I was afraid you wouldn't forgive me."
"Don't be silly. I could never be angry at you."
"I lied to you about your parents. I've known all along who they were. You're my sister's child, hers and Ashley Babcock's."
Abby vehemently denied her aunt's confession.
"No, that's not possible!"
"I believe Mary Beth hoped by allowing herself to get pregnant, Ashley would change his mind about leaving and marry her. But he didn't. All her pregnancy did was push him over the edge and make him kill himself."
"No, no! Stop it! I won't listen to another word."
"It's true. You are my sister's daughter. I'm your real aunt. Cooper and I wanted a child so badly, and we could give you all the advantages that Mary Beth couldn't. So we took you into our home. My sister was devastated over Ashley's death and couldn't bear thinking she'd driven him to suicide. But she did love you. It broke her heart to give you up."
Abby couldn't take any more. She escaped from her guardian's room and barricaded herself behind her own locked door. Cooper and Hazel both tried to coax her out but had no success.
* * *
The following morning, a shaken Abby appeared at breakfast. The dark circles under her red eyes attested to her lack of sleep.
"I'm sorry about ...," Hazel began.
"I don't want to talk about her!" Abby shouted, effectively silencing her aunt.
The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of the police, who wanted to speak with Captain Brooksmith and his wife. It was a matter of utmost importance, they claimed.
"I'm afraid the medical examiner has determined that your sister was poisoned, Mrs. Brooksmith," the detective announced. "Did she have any enemies that you are aware of?"
It was as though a leaden weight had fallen in Hazel's stomach. The tea and cakes! That had been the only food her sister had eaten before falling ill. If the police learned that fact, their suspicion would naturally fall on Abby.
"Was there someone who might have wanted your sister dead?"
Captain Brooksmith spoke for his wife.
"I assure you, officer, no one wanted to harm my sister-in-law."
"No one," Hazel quickly spoke, "except my sister herself."
Both Cooper and the police turned to her in surprise.
"You believe your sister might have wanted to end her own life?"
Hazel silently prayed for her sister's forgiveness, but her loyalties must be with the living.
"She was very depressed."
When Hazel completed her sad tale of the star-crossed romance of Mary Beth and Ashley Babcock, the police were fairly convinced that the dead woman had indeed taken her own life.
"One last question, Mrs. Brooksmith. What were your sister's actions on the last day you saw her?"
"She was quite upset. The day before she had locked herself in her room, crying. My ward and I arranged to have a tea party out in the garden, hoping to cheer her up, but she remained quiet and unresponsive. After the tea, she returned to her room. That was the last time anyone saw her alive."
After a cursory search of the property, the police found the poison in the potting shed, a short distance from the site of the ill-fated tea party.
"This must have been what she took," the detective said.
The police thanked the Brooksmiths and assured them that no further investigation would be necessary. When the door closed behind the two police officers, Hazel breathed a sigh of relief.
* * *
Hazel Brooksmith never voiced her suspicions concerning her sister's death to anyone—not even to her husband. No one in the household ever spoke of Mary Beth again. It was as though she had never reentered their lives. As for Abby, she turned down all offers of marriage, choosing to stay with her guardians in New Bedford. She remained at Brooksmith Manor long after her aunt and uncle died, living alone under the weight of guilt over her horrible deed and haunted by the memory of her poor, heartbroken mother.
This story was inspired by an event that was said to have occurred in Savannah, Georgia, at the Forsyth Park Inn.
I can't imagine whose teapot this is!
