Candy Cane Murder (Hannah Swensen #9.5)(90)

“A lot of which was propaganda put out by Richard’s enemies.”

“And a lot of it was written quite a bit later, long after anyone who might have known the truth was dead,” agreed Miss Tilley.

“Which is not the case here,” said Lucy. “You were on the scene.”

“But it’s been so long,” said Miss Tilley.

“Why don’t we give it a try,” coaxed Lucy. “You might be surprised what you remember.”





Chapter


! Three #

Miss Tilley sat primly on the little Victorian sofa with her ankles neatly crossed and gazed out the window, collecting her memories. “Papa was a terribly difficult man to live with,” she began, rubbing the knobby knuckles of one age-spotted hand with the other. “He was always conscious of his position as a judge and believed his own behavior— and that of his family—had to be above reproach.”

“That’s understandable,” said Lucy, with a little smile. “If a judge is going to enforce the law he has to obey it, right?

Otherwise he’d be a hypocrite.”

“This went beyond obeying the law,” said Miss Tilley, speaking slowly, her gaze turned inward. “It was as if he believed he had received the rules for acceptable behavior from a Higher Power, rather like Moses receiving the Ten Commandments.” She gave a small, rueful smile. “Only there were a lot more than ten, and Mama and I, and my sister Harriet—she was named for Harriet Tubman—had to follow them to the letter. We all rose at six, except for Mama who got up earlier, and we had to be washed, and combed and dressed, with our beds made and our rooms tidied before breakfast, which was served in the dining room at six-thirty sharp.” She looked at Lucy. “From time to time Papa would conduct a surprise inspection and, oh dear, there was such a fuss if a CANDY CANES OF CHRISTMAS PAST

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slipper was left lying on the carpet or the windowsills were dusty.”

“What sort of fuss?” asked Lucy. “My mother says her father used to spank her with a hairbrush.”

“Nothing like that. No hairbrushes. It was worse, really.

We’d have to listen to a long lecture on irresponsibility and wickedness and ungratefulness and by the end I would feel absolutely worthless. And, of course, there’d be no breakfast for the sinner who would have to remain in her room to reflect on her crime until Papa decided—or remembered—to let her out.”

“He locked you in your room?”

“He didn’t have to. We simply didn’t dare leave until we’d received permission.”

Lucy, an only child who had always been able to convince her father to grant her every wish, found this hard to understand. “And what about your mother? Did he treat her like that, too?”

“Oh, yes. If Mama failed to live up to his expectations he would scold her, too.” She shook her head. “Looking back it all seems ridiculous. A piece of burnt toast was treated as if you’d burned down the house. It was all out of proportion, but we were so cowed we didn’t realize it. Except for Harriet.

She was always more rebellious than I and refused to give up her friends from school—Papa considered them unsuitable companions—even when he threatened to send her away to boarding school. She was convinced that he was too miserly to pay tuition and she was right. Papa predicted she would come to a bad end and I guess she did, at least in his book.

She ran away with a young man Papa did not approve of. He was a labor organizer and a big supporter of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and of course Papa believed Franklin Delano Roosevelt and his wife, Eleanor, were earthly embodiments of Satan himself.” She paused and licked her lips. “Especially Eleanor.”

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“My great grandfather Tobias thought that, too,” said Lucy. “What happened to Harriet?”

“I’m ashamed to say that I don’t know.”

Lucy was shocked. “You don’t know?”

“No. Papa disowned her and we never heard from her again.” She sighed. “It was a great sadness to my mother. In fact, it was right after Harriet eloped that Mama’s health began to fail and she became bedridden.

“I suspected she had tuberculosis and I knew she was terrified of being sent to a sanatorium. That’s what they did back in those days. They packed people off to the mountains and hoped the good clean air and lots of hearty food would cure them. Mama didn’t want to leave home so she insisted she had woman troubles because all you had to do was say that in those days and everyone changed the subject fast.”

Lucy couldn’t resist chuckling. “It’s not so different now, at least in my house.”

Miss Tilley shook her head. “No. I don’t imagine your home is anything like that. My parents’ house was a house of secrets. When you’re afraid the truth will get you in trouble, you lie. You hide things. Everything becomes dangerous, even ideas, so you keep them to yourself. That’s what happened to us. Mama, Papa, and I became strangers to each other, strangers living in the same house.”

The baby inside her kicked and Lucy placed her hands on her tummy. “A house of secrets and strangers,” she said.

“Exactly,” said Miss Tilley, with a little nod. “But it all changed when Papa hired a nurse to take care of Mama. He resisted for a long time, but when I fell ill, too, the doctor insisted. Papa didn’t like the idea, of course, especially when the doctor recommended a nurse who was obviously Italian.