Dr. Greeley leaned toward me with what could only be described as a leer. “It must be nice to have your room all to yourself again.”
I thought of the barren room at the top of the stairs, stripped again of its two extra beds and all of the extraneous furniture that had once given it a cozy atmosphere, and suppressed a shudder. Looking straight into his eyes, I said, “I sleep with a surgical knife and I know how to use it.”
His hand left my arm, allowing me to step away. His lips pressed together. “I’m a patient man, Kate, but even my patience has its limits.”
I opened the office door as I tried to think of something to say, and found myself staring into Nurse Hathaway’s raised hand, her knuckles prepared to knock. She smiled brightly. “I was hoping to find you in here. Nobody seemed to know where you’d gone.”
I smiled back at her, using my eyes to thank her for rescuing me again. Ever since Cooper had left, she’d been keeping a protective watch over me, which was a good thing since I seemed to be a lost wanderer in the dark, running into walls, unsure of which direction to move. The only thing I could rely on was my medical training, my confidence as a doctor, and my ability to heal and nurture patients. It consoled me, almost reassured me that I’d made the right decision in allowing Cooper out of my life. Almost.
“Nurse Hathaway,” I said. “I was just leaving.”
“Perfect timing, then. You have a visitor.”
I felt something stir in my chest, and she must have seen something in my eyes, because her smile dimmed. “It’s Mrs. Prunella Schuyler. She says she’s a relative.”
I looked at her in surprise. “She’s here? At the hospital?”
“Yes. I brought her to the patient consulting office to give you some privacy if you wanted to chat. Should I bring up some tea?”
“That would be lovely . . .”
“She doesn’t have time,” Dr. Greeley said, looking at his watch. “She has rounds in twenty minutes.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I said, turning my back on him as I exited his office and walked down the hall to the same stained glass door of the office in which I’d sat when Margie had come to visit and tell me what she’d learned at the library about the Pratt family.
“She brought her maid,” Nurse Hathaway whispered. “So you won’t be alone with her.”
I nodded my thanks, then pushed open the office door after a brief knock.
Mona had left off her white apron and mobcap, but she was wearing the same black dress of shiny and worn material. She smiled and stood as I entered.
“I told the missus that it would be the polite thing to do to give ye some advance warning, but she’d have none of it.”
Prunella scowled at the maid as she plucked off her gloves, finger by finger. “That is enough, Mona. You are excused for the next fifteen minutes.”
I held the door open to let the maid pass. “Go downstairs to the lobby. The nurse can show you where the coffee is, and there are some chairs down there, too.”
Prunella was dressed all in black, a crow against the crimson red upholstery of the small couch. A fox stole stared at me from its perch around her shoulders. She pressed a starched white linen handkerchief against her nose. “It is an abomination to see all these people in my father’s mansion. He must be rolling over in his grave.” She said the word people with the same inflection I imagined she’d use for the word rubbish.
“This is a pleasant surprise, Aunt Prunella. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
She sniffed. “I grew tired of waiting for you to visit me. I might be dead before you made time for me, so I am here instead. And I have something I need to tell you.”
“And I, you,” I said. “But first would you like a tour around the house to show you how it’s all changed since you lived here?”
“Good heavens, no. It is quite enough to simply smell the changes from this room.”
Without waiting for her to grant me permission, I sat down on a chair opposite. “Aunt Prunella, were you aware of a hidden compartment behind a brick in the attic fireplace?”
Her eyes widened, but she shook her head. “No. Harry used the attic as his studio and never allowed me up there, and certainly never showed me any secret compartment. Of course, I did manage to sneak up there from time to time to see what he was up to and saw all of his canvases stacked along the wall. I inherited them, you know. Only because they weren’t considered worth anything to auction.” She said this last softly, as if musing to herself. Glancing back at me, she said, “Why do you ask?”
“I found some letters hidden there, presumably by Harry. And a letter to my mother, Lucy. Olive’s daughter.” I looked at her closely, but she never flinched—either from good breeding or because she already knew. And an engagement ring, I almost added but didn’t. The pain and loss were still too fresh and real to me. I’d tell her one day. Just not today.