“I had learned, too, the very remarkable fact, that the stem of the Usher race, all time-honored as it was, had put forth , at no period, any enduring branch; in other words, that the entire family lay in the direct line of descent, and had always, with very trifling and very temporary in variation, so lain.”
Chapter Seven
I managed to get out of the house one day for a few hours. For the last several months I had journeyed to the back of Usher Manor to attend to the ruinous garden. I don’t know what possessed me to suddenly take an interest in the garden. The garden had been dead long before I had even moved into the manor. But a few times a month, I would go out and find something to do with it, usually taking Letty with me who couldn’t understand my desire to dig around in the dirt. After a while, Richard would join us, but I suspected that Roderick found out about my revival of the garden and had sent Richard to spy on Letty and I. I think Roderick was still reeling from my attempt to escape and was determined to keep eyes on me in case I planned to run away again.
“Lady Madeline, the roses are starting to bloom,” Letty said.
“Yes,” I confirm, digging my hands into the ground to bury some seeds of azaleas.
Letty crossed her legs on the ground. “I honestly didn’t think you’d be able to get this garden living again,” she laughed.
Richard walked around the patch of garden that I had been working on for the last couple months, examining the leaves and ground. “It’s looking very beautiful, Lady Madeline. My old master never did anything to make this look appealing.”
I blinked at the mention of my grandfather, but kept silent as I continued to dig.
After about twenty minutes, I told Richard and Letty to go stand in the shade while I finished up. As I brushed the dirt from my hands, I heard a carriage in the distance.
“Who could that be?” I asked out loud. Letty and Richard followed me from behind as I made my way back to the front of Usher Manor.
I stood at the front of manor while I waited for the carriage to arrive. When it stopped, I saw a familiar face.
“Uncle Henry?”
Henry took his hat off as he approached me. “Madeline.” He said my name with no hint of pleasure. He sounded almost business-like.
I stuffed my dirty hands into my pockets, suddenly aware of how dirty I must have looked to him. “What are you doing here?”
He stared up above me to examine the manor. I knew he was dismayed at the disrepair. He finally looked back at me. “I’ve come to talk to you.”
“To me? Not Roderick?”
“I’d like to have nothing to do with your brother if that’s not a problem.”
I turned to look at Richard. “Make sure Roderick hasn’t heard my Uncle’s arrival. If he has, tell him I want to speak with Henry alone.” Richard gave me a slight bow before departing. “Letty, leave us.” Letty gave me a curtsey and she, too, is gone. It’s just me and Uncle Henry. “Do come in,” I said.
Henry followed me to the parlor. While we walked, I attempted to stuff my stray strands of hair back where they came from in an attempt to look more presentable.
“What do you want, Uncle?” I asked as soon as we sat down.
“Cutting right to the chase, aren’t you, my dear?” Henry said with an amused smile.
I placed my dirty hands on my lap. “We left each other on bad terms.”
He tapped his fingers on the armrest. “Yes, indeed.”
“So, what do you want?” I asked again.
Henry took a deep breath before speaking. “It’s about the letters. You’re mother’s letters.”
I sat up straighter. “The letters? What about them?” I never imagined that he’d want to discuss them with me.
“You asked me if they were from me. Yes.” He squared his jaw. “They are from me.”
From how he set his shoulders, I knew that he was tense. “I’ve still never read them,” I truthfully told him. His shoulders visibly relaxed. It was my turn now to take a breath before continuing. “Before my mother died, I would find her holding the letters. She always looked so sad.”
Something in my uncle’s eyes shifted. When he had first gotten out of the carriage he looked haughty and scornful. Now he seemed saddened and regretful.
I swallowed. “Henry, did you…” I struggled to say the next word. “love my mother?”
He looked up at me in surprise as if shocked that I had figured out his secret. “Yes,” he finally said, knowing that it was too late to deny what I had said.
I sat silently for a moment, too afraid to ask what I knew had to be said next. “Are you…are you…” I felt myself suddenly chill. “Are you my father?”
Henry actually laughed.
My face reddened in anger. “I did not know this was so amusing for you,” I spat.
Henry’s laughter settled enough for him to say, “That would be awfully cliché, wouldn’t it, my dear?”
“What?”
His laughter died and he settled back into his seat. “You are not my daughter. The first time I saw you, the day my father died, I knew in an instant that you’re mother had told me the truth.”
“But—” I started, finding myself lost. “You just admitted that the letters were from you.”
“And they are. But that does not mean I am your father. John was your father through and through. I still remain your uncle.”
“I am still confused.”
Henry sat forward in this seat, placing his hands in a steeple. “Then let me explain. Sometime before you were born, you’re father was working on a difficult case that required his full attention. He barely saw Maria for months at a time. I was still living in New York at the time. John told me to check on her and Roderick every now and then to make sure they were doing all right. So one night I went to the house. Maria was very lonely.” Henry smiled mischievously like a little boy. “Need I spell out the rest of the story for you, Madeline?”
I shook my head, feeling slightly ill. “She was your brother’s wife. And you were married.”
“Yes,” he said, sitting back in the chair, as if I had just stated something obvious. “It meant nothing at first. But overtime, I started to feel differently. We started writing letters to each other after your father won his case. We started figuring out that we had deeper feelings for each other.”
“This is why Roderick and my father hated you so much?” I guessed.
He nodded and I could see that he was biting the inside of his mouth. “Roderick was at home whenever I came over. He grew suspicious. He told his father naturally. But John didn’t hate you’re mother oddly enough. He blamed himself.” Henry harrumphed with disdain. “So like my brother to take blame into his own hands. John was getting great business at the time in his firm and he decided to let the…misdemeanor go out of concern for his and Maria’s reputation.”
I kept my eyes on Henry, waiting for him to continue.
“You came along sometime afterwards. Over and over I did the math, but I still wasn’t sure about you. Maria wrote me one final letter telling me you were John’s daughter. She was quite sure about that fact. And she told me to never speak to her again. She was happily married to my brother and that’s how she wanted it to stay.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what exactly I should have given him in response.
“Why should you be sorry?”
I shook my head. “Even though you did something horrible, you still loved her.”
“No need to get all sentimental about it,” he said.
I looked up at him again. “That is why you talked to me after my grandfather’s funeral. You wanted to examine me?”
“I always knew you were smart, Madeline. You don’t miss a thing. Yes, that’s why I talked to you. And you know how I realized you were not my daughter?” I shook my head. He answered monotonously, his eyes unblinking, “I felt nothing for you.”
Something about his statement turned my stomach. I felt my eyes pool with tears. But I did not cry. I don’t know what I expected him to say. And I don’t know why I felt the way I did. I had spent years expecting Henry to admit that he was my father. At first I had despised him if, in fact, he turned out to be my father. I had grown to hate him as much as Roderick hated him. But overtime, years after the death of my mother and father, I almost wished that Henry would be my father. I had grown lonely. I had fully expected him to say, “Yes, Madeline, you are my daughter.” And then I would no longer be lonely. Then maybe he could have taken me away from Usher Manor and Roderick. But even after he just told me that I am not his daughter, he disappointed me by saying that he had no feelings for me. I am just his brother’s daughter—his brother’s daughter whom he has always hated.
“You have never felt anything for me?” I struggled to say finally. “I am your niece.”
He smiled sadly. “You are just a reminder of what is not mine.”
I felt a single tear slide down my face. “Must you be so cruel?”
“I am sorry if I have made you cry.” I can tell he meant those words.
Through my blurred vision, it took me a while to realize that he has stood up. “I must be going, Madeline. I only came today because I felt you deserved to know the truth. It’s been paining me these last several years. It feels good to finally tell you.”
“I am your confessor,” I muttered with a wry smile.
“Goodbye, Madeline.” He started for the door.
I jumped up from my seat, wiping my eyes. “Will you not stay, Uncle. You’ve traveled all this way. I can have Mrs. Franklin make us some dinner and Richard can prepare a room for you.”
Henry looked down at his hat, his fingers playing with the brim. “I would prefer not to stay, Madeline.”
“Please. It is no—”
“No,” he said sharply, cutting me off. “This is the last time I shall speak to you, Madeline. Please do not seek me out.”
And then he is gone, leaving me in the parlor with a look of dismay and confusion. I am truly a lonely soul now. All I have now is Roderick for company. And the thought destroys me.