12. Percival

12

Percival

I went first to Mr. Sullivan's apartment in the city, but his staff informed me that he'd returned to his house in Litchfield. Hearing this, I immediately bought a train ticket and headed north. A cab took me to the grand estate, dropping me at the front entrance. A butler answered the door.

"Good afternoon, I'm Dr. Percival Bancroft, here to see Mr. Sullivan. He's not expecting me."

The butler glared at me for a moment before asking me to wait in the foyer. "I'll see if he's available."

He returned minutes later, asking me to follow him into the library. To my surprise, it was not Mr. Sullivan waiting for me but Mrs. Sullivan. She was slight and fair and had this way of looking at me that seemed as if she were bracing herself for a punch in the face. I'd seen women like this before during my work. They were the wives of men who hit them or verbally lacerated them.

"Forgive me for calling on you unannounced," I said after introducing myself.

"You're Estelle's friend." Mrs. Sullivan nodded, looking me up and down. "I met your mother the other day. You favor her."

"I've heard that before."

"Please sit. May I offer you tea?"

"No, thank you. I don't want to cause any trouble."

"What can I do for you?"

"Stella's been arrested for the murder of my wife, Mary Bancroft."

"Your wife's dead?"

I told her what had happened and the subsequent suspicion that had come our way. "They're under the impression that there is something untoward between Stella and me, which is patently untrue. They've arrested Stella for the murder of my wife." I figured it was best to say it as plainly as possible. "I've come to let you know, as well as ask your husband a few questions."

"He's out hunting today." She folded her hands together in her lap in the same way I'd seen Stella do on occasion. "What would you like to ask him?"

"Stella's under the impression he may have ordered the death of my wife."

Mrs. Sullivan's bottom lip quivered. "Why would he do that? What possible motive would he have? He doesn't know you or your wife. Late wife."

"As I'm sure you're aware, there's a history between your family and Mary's. Stella believes he wants to make sure the death of Mr. Price is not linked back to him somehow. Are you aware he's having my family followed?"

"It's rather like him, isn't it?" She looked away, but not before I saw the deep pain reflected in her eyes.

"They're going to hang her for this, and she's innocent."

"How can you be so sure of her innocence?" She peered at me with an expression of curiosity but also skepticism.

"None of it makes sense. She was with my family during the time in question. My mother, my daughter, and our entire staff know it. As far as hiring someone to do it—like your husband would do—it would require money, of which she has none." I badly wanted to lambaste her for how hard it had been for Stella since she'd left this house. How good it would feel to chastise her for abandoning her daughter.

"It was her idea." Mrs. Sullivan wrung her hands. "To give the baby away, I mean. I think."

"Is that true?"

"Yes. No one made her do it. No one's ever been able to make Estelle do anything she didn't want to do. Estelle knew her decision was the right one for the baby. My daughter Mauve was made to be a mother. Estelle knew that."

"Do you not have any guilt at all?" I couldn't help but ask the question. "She almost died. Multiple times. Are your motherly instincts intact, Mrs. Sullivan?"

"Believe me, Dr. Bancroft, I have the guilt of a thousand mothers upon my shoulders. But I've been punished for my mistakes, I can assure you. I've been left with no one."

"Other than your husband."

"As I said, no one." The tone of her voice took me aback. I'm not sure I'd heard such utter despair in another's tone ever in my life. I hoped never to witness it again, for it made my heart ache, even as the anger toward this woman who would have let her own daughter die on the streets of New York City remained.

"They think the two of you are in love," Mrs. Sullivan said. "And that's the reason she wanted your wife dead?"

"That seems to be it, yes."

"Are you in love with her?"

I didn't answer for a moment, completely flummoxed by her direct question. My instinct was to brush it away with a dismissive gesture, but something else took over instead. For whatever reason, it was suddenly important that Stella's mother knew her daughter was loved. They may have discarded her, but my family had welcomed her into our lives with open arms. "My mother and daughter love her. And I love her too. However, you must believe me when I say we have remained chaste."

"Because you're married?"

"That's correct."

"She told me the same thing, which I found hard to believe then as I do now. Yet you seem to be an extraordinary man, Dr. Bancroft. But tell me, are you broken up about your wife's death, or does it come as a convenience to you?"

"The mother of my child has suffered greatly over the years, which grieves me no end. And yes, her death allows me a second chance at happiness with someone else. But I could never hurt another human being, especially one I loved with all my heart. It is hardest to say goodbye to those who we know have suffered so on earth. Now I must do so."

"That is so. I hope you believe she's now free and without suffering."

"I pray it is true," I said.

"I'll let my husband know you called upon us and the unfortunate news of Estelle's arrest. But I cannot promise he will do anything. That's why you've come, isn't it? For money for her defense?"

"I'm happy to take care of that," I said. "It's not money I came for but answers."

"I know my husband better than anyone, and although he's guilty of many heinous crimes, he would not have a young, very sick woman killed. If he did so, he would certainly not frame his own daughter for the murder. Is that what she thinks?"

"To be perfectly frank, she's in such a state of confusion and fear that she has no idea what to think. Mrs. Sullivan, she's gone through so much, lost so much. This is just another blow to her already tragic life."

"Don't you think I know that?"

I shrugged.

"I'll do what I can to rectify the situation." Mrs. Sullivan stood. "After all this is done, I wish you a happy life with my daughter. I hope you can make a new family."

I rose to my feet as well. "My daughter loves her and wishes very much for us to marry."

"She doesn't know her mother, then?"

"I'm afraid not," I said. "She's been too sick for me to expose Clara. It was never certain what she might do or say. She was violent, or I might have been able to take care of her myself."

"I'm sorry for your troubles, Dr. Bancroft. Truly, I am. Please, keep me informed."

"I'll do that. Would you let your husband know I'm still interested in speaking with him?"

Framed in the doorway, she hesitated, her fingers worrying the sleeve of her dress. "I would be remiss if I didn't advise you to stay away from my husband. He's like a lion. Challenge brings out the worst in him. I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"I'll take that under advisement. Thank you for your time."

"Take care of yourself. And my daughter, God willing." The butler had appeared, hovering just a few feet away. "James, will you have one of the staff take Dr. Bancroft back to the train station?"

"Right away, ma'am." James hurried off.

"Good day, Dr. Bancroft."

I bade her farewell and headed out of the grand front entrance to wait for either a car or a carriage, hoping it wouldn't take long, as it was cold and I was anxious to return to my mother and Clara. Mother had been beside herself when I told her what had happened. She would be pacing the floor. The sooner I returned, the better.