Read Online A White Room by Stephanie Carroll - Free Book Online Page B

but he never brought it up again, always having too much work and not a moment to spare, not even to play a game or tell me something about himself. So I focused on improving myself, hopefully to his liking. Or I read.
    The redundancy was dreadful. No task accomplished was really an accomplishment. I cleaned things that would just get dirty again. I baked things that we consumed. Nothing had lasting value; I had to redo everything, over and over. Perhaps I might have felt a sense of purpose if the drudgery had ended with a smile on his face, but every day began and concluded the same way. John would emerge from the library unaware that my cheer was in spite of my efforts, the tedium, and how depressed it all made me.
    “How was your day?” I would ask.
    “Hmm?” He would say, refusing to look away from his read.
    “Did your day go well?”
    He might stab a bit of food with his fork, hold it up to his mouth, and pause for a moment. “I like it.”
    “John, I asked you how your day went?”
    “What?” he would ask. “Oh—um—fine.”

Five
    March 1901
    J ohn, Mr. Marcellus Rippring, and Dr. Walter Bradbridge reclined in the parlor, which was dimly lit by lamps and glowing remnants of a fire. Thick cigar smoke billowed above their heads, but John puffed a cigarette. They were celebrating some success story that had brought the three of them together. They toasted one another and occasionally roared with laughter.
    This was the first time I’d met anyone John worked with. Dr. Walter Bradbridge was son of Dr. Benedict Bradbridge, one of the most important clients Mr. Coddington’s office represented. John had informed me that Mrs. Margaret Bradbridge, wife to the senior physician and mother to the younger, determined a lady’s place in Labellum, so it was of great importance that I make a good impression on any Bradbridge I might meet. Walter Bradbridge looked young for a physician. He had a gentle disposition and a round face with puffy red cheeks. I observed him as I entered the parlor to bring them refreshments. He reclined in a high-backed chair and chatted cheerfully.
    I knew I shouldn’t listen to their conversation, but I had an overwhelming desire to know what all the excitement was about. How I longed to hear something interesting after spending so much time alone. How I longed to be spoken to. I took my time as I brought them coffee, filled their whiskies and brandies, and served desserts.
    “You were impressive today.” John raised his glass to the young doctor.
    “Thank you,” Walter said. “You as well. I’m glad you came and not Mr. Coddington.”
    “You didn’t panic. Others have not had the strength.”
    Walter chuckled. “I suppose it helped that my father had repeated over and over and over that the day I stumbled upon this to contact the authorities and my lawyer without question.”
    I placed a tray on the side table. It was filled with liquors, coffee, peppermint cakes, and a crystal bowl of candied plums. I’d purchased the cakes for my own callers, but it seemed that John’s parents didn’t know as many people in Labellum as I had anticipated so I didn’t have a day of introduction. Further, Mr. Coddington and his wife didn’t seem to care to send letters of introduction. I felt quite ill toward John’s employer, who had yet to introduce himself and who worked John as if he were some sort of load-bearing animal.
    John continued. “We knew it would happen sooner or later.”
    Marcellus lurched forward, snatched a candied plum and popped it into his mouth. He slouched to the side, and his knobby shoulders looked lopsided. Marcellus worked as a detective for the Labellum Police Department. It seemed odd for such a small department to have its own detective when the rest of its staff consisted of only a sheriff, a deputy, and one or two patrolmen, all of whom worked out of the local jailhouse. As he chewed noisily, his open mouth exposed plum and saliva. He was tall and slender,