Twenty-Four

Stephen and I retreated to the study after the children were sent to bed. There was a soft breeze from the windows, and a few moths flew in, to flap madly against the gas lights hanging from brackets on the wall. The building was old and didn’t yet have electricity. I removed my boots and curled my feet under me on the lumpy old sofa.

“But won’t Whitbread find out soon enough?” Stephen asked.

“I don’t know. Alden didn’t tell him he came home but then left again. He let him believe he stayed there. Whitbread’s known us for so long, he believed him. He would have expected Alden to tell him the truth. I believed him. It was only when I talked to Clara that I discovered what really happened. He didn’t lie, he just didn’t explain. I don’t think Whitbread would question it. Alden is taking advantage of his friendship. How can he do that? What has he become?”

Stephen rubbed his eyes, tired from a long, hot day I supposed. He deserved to get on that train with our children and head for the seashore for the summer. And so did I. Why should we all suffer because Alden was being a fool…or worse? It wasn’t fair. I should withdraw from the investigation, complete our packing, and leave on the train with my family. I sincerely wished I could.

“Will you tell him?” Stephen asked. Of course, he knew that would plague me. How could I not tell my good friend and mentor, Henry Whitbread, that my brother had lied by omission? And if I did, how could I watch as he arrested my brother for murdering two men in order to protect his mistress?

“Now he thinks that perhaps Alonzo Swift did it,” I said. And maybe Swift was guilty. I could no longer see the threads of what was happening at that film studio. I was blinded by all the illusions they projected. I told Stephen how Swift was hiding his family from the press.

Stephen snorted. “Four children? How does he hope to hide that? Besides, you said Selig and the other film people actually knew about it. Why kill to keep it a secret? It doesn’t make sense.”

“You don’t really think Alden did it, do you?”

He didn’t attempt to answer that. The question just hung there like the gas flame attracting the moths. I couldn’t shake off the doubts, but I was appalled that I could think such thoughts about my own brother. When had he changed so much that he would do something our father, the judge, would never have understood or forgiven? It would have broken our mother’s heart. He knew better. He’d been taught better. How could he go against everything he’d ever learned?

“Can Whitbread really believe that Alden would murder that man Hyde just to prevent him from censoring the films of Kathlyn Williams? Surely that’s absurd. Why did Alden need money?” Stephen asked. “It’s not like him to ask Clara for money. He’s always been so touchy about that.”

“Yes, but he lost his job. I don’t know, perhaps it’s to move to California with Kathlyn Williams. Although, asking Clara to fund their trip would be beyond the pale. Perhaps he has some crazy idea to fund a film himself. He said something about a deal with Col. Selig. He’d do anything to stay in with these film people. I don’t know why.”

“Perhaps he just wants to make a new start, Emily. It must have been a blow to lose his job. I know he’d feel that deeply. The film industry may give him a way to hide his disgrace. If he clothes the facts in the idea that he’ll go to California and be successful, it might make it more bearable for him. And it may be less painful to leave, than to stay and have to face Clara and the children with his failures. It’s hard on a man, Emily, to have to admit he can’t support his family.”

As usual, Stephen was more sympathetic than I could be. I felt too much pain, as if an organ had been ripped from me. Alden was my little brother. At his best, he was witty, charming, and fearless. He teased me and I rose to his bait every time, but I’d been proud of him. I remembered when he’d jumped into a roiling sea to take a lifeline to Clara and three other people. He’d made mistakes in the past, but I always thought he was strong enough to come back from them. This time, he was destroying even the memories of what he’d been for me. I wanted to take my own children and run away to Woods Hole. I wanted to deny all of it. I didn’t want to think that, if Alden could change so much that he was capable of such betrayal, perhaps I could change, as well. I looked at Stephen and wondered if I would ever decide to give him up for something I wanted more. Never. But I would have said never about Alden, too…until now.

“Stephen, you need to take Clara and the children to Woods Hole on Monday. I’ll come as soon as I can. I don’t know what will happen here. Whitbread will probably discover Alden lied and, if he doesn’t, I’ll try to get Alden to admit it to him. If Alden did kill those men, and if he’s charged in the end, I’ll make sure he has a lawyer. But we need to get the children away.”

§

The next day was Sunday. It was an unexpected relief to attend church services with my family and then finish the packing for their trip. I had a bit of a tussle with Lizzie about her desire to see the Wizard of Oz filmed and I had to reprimand her sharply. I think some of my anger with Alden was let loose on her. I dreaded the coming days that would take me once more to the Selig studios, now that I was sure it would end in the arrest and disgrace of my brother, my children’s uncle. After Lizzie’s bout of tears was over, Stephen took her to visit her cousin Penny, and returned with the news that he’d agreed she could stay the night at Clara and Alden’s house and meet us the next morning at the train station. We arranged a cart to pick up their luggage, then ours and our family, so Clara and her children would go by train and meet us at the station.

Stephen was always the peacemaker in our house and I grudgingly agreed to the plan. It was clear that my argument with Lizzie had left my husband and sons tiptoeing around, to avoid my wrath, and I genuinely felt sorry for that.

We sent the boys and Delia to bed early in preparation for the long trip. I felt myself becoming tense with the anticipation of their departure and my unwelcome task. I had to face Whitbread, knowing my brother had lied. Yet, I didn’t want to be the one to expose Alden. How could I do that? I wracked my brain for a way to avoid Whitbread until he discovered the truth himself. But would he, if I didn’t come forward? Clara would be gone, so he couldn’t ask her and, of course, he’d assume I’d tell him if I knew such a pertinent fact. But I couldn’t imagine how I could tell him. It would be so damaging to Alden.

Stephen and I sat in the study for some time in silence. Darkness was falling, but neither of us lit the gas. Finally, he rose and sat on the sofa beside me, putting his left arm on my shoulders. I was sitting with my arms crossed on my chest thinking furiously. He pulled one hand out with his own. “Emily, you have to leave this. You’ll make yourself ill.”

I pulled my arm away. “No. I have to stay. I have to see it through, even if Alden is arrested. I must. I can’t leave him, and I can’t leave Whitbread.”

“Emily, he’s your brother. Whitbread understands that. He wouldn’t force you to betray your brother. You know that.” Stephen withdrew his arm and sat back, frowning.

“How is it betrayal? Hasn’t Alden betrayed all of us? I’m so angry with him for leaving Clara like that. And lying to Whitbread. He’s the one who has to own up to it. I won’t let him get away with this. I’ll get him to tell Whitbread himself, or else I’ll have to.”

Stephen lowered his head, raised his eyebrows, and looked up at me with a quizzical expression. “Really? You would do that to your own brother?” He reminded me of a schoolmaster who’d caught a child in a lie. He knew me too well.

I threw up my hands. “What else can I do?” I asked. “I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?”

I rubbed my face with my hands. “It’s Alden,” I said, trying to stifle a sob. I thought of our parents—our father, who’d been killed in his study back in Boston, and our mother, by whose deathbed I sat, before returning to Chicago to refuse Stephen’s first proposal. I’d taken on their cares when they died. And I thought I could shoulder them alone, until Stephen convinced me otherwise. I felt I was failing my mother and father now. I should have curbed Alden. I should have seen this coming. He’d gone so far off course without me noticing and, with a pang, I realized I barely knew my younger sister, Rose, anymore. She had her own family in Boston.

“Emily, Alden’s a grown man. You must let him take responsibility for his actions. You cannot and should not try to protect him. And what about Clara? Isn’t Clara the one who needs your help now? Come to Woods Hole. Leave Alden to take care of himself. Clara’s the one we need to help through this. And Clara’s the one who can be helped by you.”

I pressed my face into his shoulder and his arms wrapped around me. He was right. Clara had a steep road ahead of her and she’d be looking to me for support, while Alden only scorned my efforts. I’d already failed with Alden, that was the truth, and it was too late to save him. He’d changed to be something our parents would not have recognized. I knew they would be heartsick, but there was nothing I could do. Now I needed to look after my own little family. Stephen was right. Alden had to be cut loose to make it on his own.

“But Whitbread,” I said.

“Emily, don’t you think Whitbread will know, when you don’t appear? He’s well able to conduct the investigation without you. Your absence will allow him to do his job, as he must. You trust him. You need to leave it to him.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll do it. I’ll leave with you.” Still burdened with guilt, I felt relief as we turned out the light and mounted the stairs. In a few days, we would all be at the seashore. It was a sorrow that Alden would not be with us, but Clara and the children would be, and they needed our help.