Fixing To Die

“I can understand that,” An’gel said. “We talked a little about this already. Have you talked about this with Mary Turner? I mean, sat down and really discussed it with her?”

“I tried once, about six or seven months ago,” Henry Howard said. “She got so upset that I told her to forget it. I said I was just tired, and that it was all okay.”

“But it wasn’t okay, was it?” An’gel asked.

“No, it wasn’t,” he replied, obviously miserable. “Every day I get more tired of the same old grind, with no end in sight. We make a decent living out of the house, but we don’t get much time to enjoy ourselves. We never go anywhere other than out to dinner with friends every once in a while.

“I spent my junior year in college in England. Did you know that?” Henry Howard didn’t wait for an answer. “I loved every minute of it. I loved England, and I’ve wanted to go back ever since. But I’ve never had the opportunity. Mary Turner has never been, and I’d love to take her there and show her the places I visited.” He fell silent.

“But you can’t,” An’gel said gently.

Henry Howard sighed. “We could, during the time the house is closed to visitors every year. But Mary Turner won’t leave the house. She’s afraid of anything happening to the house and her not being here to take care of it. I have begged her to take a trip with me, but she won’t.”

To An’gel, it was beginning to sound like Mary Turner could have a slightly unhealthy attachment to the house, and if that were the case, then she could certainly understand Henry Howard’s frustration. That frustration could soon turn into bitterness, An’gel knew, and that could damage their marriage irreparably.

“Do you think I’m being selfish and unreasonable?” Henry Howard asked. “Mary Turner said I was.”

“It’s not unreasonable or selfish to want to take a vacation from your responsibilities,” An’gel said firmly.

“Thank you,” Henry Howard replied.

“What was it you were hoping to accomplish by making Mary Turner think there was a ghost in the French room?” An’gel asked. “Did you think she would be frightened enough that she would want to leave the house?”

Henry Howard shrugged. “Maybe. I think maybe I wanted her to start thinking that the house wasn’t as wonderful as she thinks it is. Anything to get her to reevaluate and see that we can’t sacrifice the rest of our lives for it.”

An’gel thought the whole idea was foolish, but now wasn’t the time to tell Henry Howard that. She suspected he already knew it anyway.

“Why the French room?” she asked.

“Because it’s like a shrine,” Henry Howard said. “Her father was as bad, if not worse, than Mary Turner is about that room. It has to be preserved as it is. You wouldn’t believe what we’ve spent on special dry cleaning and laundering for the linens and the draperies alone. Every year since we’ve been married.”

“Has Mary Turner explained why this room is so important to her?” An’gel asked. She knew it was filled with valuable furniture and objets d’art, but was that the only reason?

“She seems to think that if anything bad happens to the things in that room, she’ll lose the house,” Henry Howard said. “Like that room is a talisman of some sort against bad fortune.”

“So by making her think it was haunted by a ghost, you thought you might change her mind about the importance of the room?” An’gel asked. The idea seemed even more foolish now.

“Yes,” Henry Howard said. “I know it’s idiotic, but I’ve been desperate. I feel like I’m going to suffocate if I’m shackled to this place much longer.”

An’gel felt bad for him. He was obviously in severe distress, and if Mary Turner persisted in her devotion to the house, An’gel didn’t have much hope for the marriage. At some point Henry Howard would have had enough and simply walk away, she feared. Was that what Mary Turner really wanted?

“So it was you who came into the room while I was there and moved my dress and my nightgown?” An’gel asked.

Henry Howard had the grace to look embarrassed now, she noted. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“You didn’t really frighten me,” An’gel said, “though it was quite disconcerting. I’m not really comfortable with the idea of someone sneaking into my room while I’m sleeping and moving things around. I’m relieved that it wasn’t a ghost, however.”

“I’m really, really sorry,” Henry Howard said. “I guess I thought if I managed to get you spooked enough, you’d talk to Mary Turner. She thinks a lot of you, you know.”

“I’m flattered to hear that,” An’gel said. “But I have to say, I don’t think I would have advised her to sell the house because of your prank.”

Henry Howard nodded. “I see that now.”

“I’m not angry with you,” An’gel said. “I do want to know how you got in and out of the room without anyone seeing or suspecting.”

“Through the bathroom next door,” Henry Howard said.

An’gel blinked in surprise. She had pretty well given up on the idea of a secret door between the two rooms. “I knew it, I just knew it,” she muttered.