With questions already crowding her thoughts, Gertrude asked the first one to pop front and center. “But why lift a finger today?”
Mrs. Davenport bit her lip. “I’m not sure. It just seemed like something I needed to do to begin making amends for the actions of my past.”
Reverend Perry suddenly stepped from the shadows, moving to stand directly in front of the pew they were sitting in. “Forgive me for chiming in, Mrs. Davenport, but I’ve been considering your actions with the window. It occurred to me that you may very well have been trying to dust away something unpleasant from your life, using a window you once refused to clean as a symbolic way to cleanse you of the guilt you obviously feel about that unpleasantness.”
Blowing out a breath, Mrs. Davenport tilted her head. “Perhaps, or it’s more likely I was hoping God would be a touch more forgiving of the careless disregard I’ve had for the life I’ve been given if I began trying to be less selfish.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve never once considered doing a menial task, and while I know that polishing a pane of glass seems like an absolutely ridiculous way for me to earn some forgiveness, it was the only gesture I could think of after I arrived here today.” She nodded Gertrude’s way. “I was a little distraught, you see, after learning my demands had finally seen you arrested, but I wasn’t brave enough to come after you—yet another flaw in my character I’m certainly going to need to address.”
Reverend Perry smiled. “I doubt you’re as flawed as you’ve come to believe, Mrs. Davenport. And since it does seem as if you’ve missed a good majority of the messages we address here on any given Sunday, even while you’ve attended services frequently, do know that God forgives easily. All you need to do is ask Him for that forgiveness.”
“You’re a good man, Reverend Perry,” Mrs. Davenport said. “But I’m afraid I don’t believe God forgives that easily, which means I need to make amends for the many, many grievances I’ve caused over the decades, brought about because of my spoiled and willful attitude.”
“Admitting one’s faults is said to be the first step into accepting responsibility for them,” Reverend Perry said with a small smile. “As for God’s forgiveness, that’s a subject we’ll certainly return to when you’re in a different frame of mind, but do know that He’ll forgive you anything.”
“Will He forgive me for ruining my marriage even if the man I married was not the man he projected himself to be before I agreed to marry him?”
Reverend Perry nodded. “He will.”
Instead of seeming relieved about that, Mrs. Davenport turned her gaze to the stained-glass window, pursed her lips, then nodded, just once. “Since this does seem to be the time to disclose my many past misdeeds, allow me to begin by saying that while my husband was a dictatorial beast, it was my choice to pursue him and convince him to marry me. Roy, that’s my husband’s name, was a very handsome gentleman. And after I noticed him at a ball, and arranged to become introduced to him, I then pursued him somewhat determinedly, allowing him no room to misinterpret my desire to become his wife.”
Mrs. Davenport’s eyes turned distant. “I didn’t know for quite some time that he was more interested in my father’s money than he was in me. I was blinded by first love, and because my father never refused me anything, he offered Roy a proposal he couldn’t refuse. Before I knew it, I was married to the gentleman of my dreams, or so I thought, looking forward to a lovely life, one where my husband and I would, of course, rule society one day and enjoy a romance that would earn me the envy of all my peers.”
A distinct rustle of paper from behind them drew Gertrude’s attention. Turning, she found that while she’d been listening to Mrs. Davenport, Agent McParland had stolen closer and was now sitting directly behind them, eavesdropping on their conversation no less while he perused the small notepad balanced on his knees, pen in hand. Lifting his head, he looked unconcerned that he’d been caught in the act, as he sent the briefest of nods Gertrude’s way.
“At least we know where she came by her money” was all he said before he bent his head to his notes again and added something to the page.
Not wanting to distract Mrs. Davenport, who didn’t appear to realize Agent McParland was listening, Gertrude sent the detective a narrowing of her eyes, an action he missed because he was still looking through his notes. Returning her attention to Mrs. Davenport, Gertrude cleared her throat.
“Did your husband haveanytype of fortune to speak of?” she asked.
Mrs. Davenport released an unladylike snort. “Roy barely had two pennies to rub together, although no one knew that at the time. The Davenport family was well respected in New York and had some tenuous ties to wealthy relatives in England. But I later learned the New York Davenports were always short on cash, which meant they were always on the lookout for ways to plump up the family coffers.”
She picked a small piece of lint off her sleeve. “I was exactly the plump pigeon Roy was looking for: a woman from a society family, although not one of the more established society families since our money was relatively new due to the ingenuity of my father, who married my society mother to become respectable. Roy was perfectly happy to help himself to that new money, though, even if he was disappointed to discover my father made the bulk of his fortune through trade.”
Lifting her head, Mrs. Davenport frowned. “Roy was very attentive at first, showering me with presents, although he always seemed to buy items for himself at the same time. But then, after we’d been married for about six months, he began to distance himself from me, spending his time at his gentlemen clubs, or sailing the boats he bought with the money my father settled on us after our vows were spoken.”
“I imagine his inattentive attitude didn’t sit well with you,” Gertrude said.
The barest hint of a smile flickered across Mrs. Davenport’s face. “Indeed, and I admit I began to act rather outlandishly to gain his attention, my bad behavior drawing him back to the city to save the good Davenport name time and time again. Roy eventually decided I needed a child to settle me down, and about a year after he made that decision, my darling daughter Jane entered the world.”
“But her birth didn’t save your marriage?” Gertrude asked when Mrs. Davenport stopped talking, obviously lost in memories as her eyes turned bright with unshed tears.
Blinking, and then blinking again, Mrs. Davenport shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Roy didn’t care for babies, finding the crying annoying, so even though we had nannies to attend to Jane whenever she turned fussy, he soon found excuses to quit our house whenever he could. Before too long, he’d returned to his neglectful ways, while picking up some unfortunate habits, most of those habits keeping him in the company of women who did not travel within society. Whispers soon began winding their way through town, and I decided that to draw him back to me, and have him abandon his many mistresses, I’d have to begin misbehaving again to attract his attention.”
She dashed a tear from her cheek. “I’d decided Roy was truly attracted to ladies who didn’t mind their manners, and because of that, I’m afraid I began to dress in unusual fashions, drank to excess, and adopted a flirtatious attitude with the gentlemen I encountered at society events. Unfortunately, none of that drew Roy’s attention, but unwilling to admit defeat even though I wasn’t certain I even wanted Roy back with me at that point, I turned to using Jane as a pawn in the game I was determined to win.”
“This game didn’t involve a murder, did it?” Agent McParland asked over the pew, his question causing dead silence to settle over the church as Gertrude, along with Mrs. Davenport, turned in the pew and found Agent McParland casting a hard look Mrs. Davenport’s way.
Before Mrs. Davenport could answer, though, Temperance, who’d somehow managed to take a seat right next to Agent McParland without Gertrude noticing, swatted him on the arm, and then swatted him again. “Honestly, Agent McParland, what in the world is the matter with you? Mrs. Davenport does not have the look of a murderer about her, and your question was completely beyond the pale. Why, if you ask me, I think the disappointment you’ve recently experienced over the Manhattan Beach Hotel being robbed while the Pinkerton Agency was on the case has clouded your common sense.”
Agent McParland turned the intensity of his glare on Temperance, who didn’t so much as flinch. “While I will admit the Pinkerton Agency has suffered embarrassment over allowing a thief to get the better of us that night, I’m not acting beyond the pale by questioning Mrs. Davenport in such a direct manner. She’s behaved suspiciously for years, and because of that, I feel justified in asking her what happened to her husband, and wondering if that husband could have come to a sticky end at the hands of his admittedly disillusioned wife.”
“Did I miss the explanation as towhywe have a Pinkerton in our midst?” Mrs. Davenport suddenly asked.
“We’ll get to that later,” Harrison said as he stood, moved into the pew where Agent McParland was sitting, took a seat directly next to the man, then sent the agent a rather dangerous look. That look, unsurprisingly, didn’t appear to bother Agent McParland in the least, although he did settle into silence.
“I didn’t kill my husband,” Mrs. Davenport said, turning front and center again. “For all I know, he’s alive and well, living a life of leisure on the money he took from me.”
Gertrude leaned toward Mrs. Davenport. “I’m not certain I understand how it came to be that you lost track of your husband, and forgive me for being so forward, but did you lose track of Jane as well?”
