Vanished

It was late that afternoon when John Taylor finished interviewing the help for the second time, and asked to see Malcolm. He wasn't surprised by what he'd heard till then, because she'd warned him, but he still didn't like it. They painted a portrait of a woman who was different from the one he'd seen the night of the kidnapping. A woman who was weak and indulged and frightened and always hiding. Miss Griffin had said that Mrs. Patterson was too nervous, too anxious, and that it wasn't healthy for the boy. In fact, she was so nervous sometimes, she didn't even want to see him, and it had taken her quite a long time to adjust to him in the beginning. At first, she had hardly shown any interest in him at all, as though she wasn't even sure if she wanted him. And it was only lately that she'd been spending time with him, “in between her headaches.”

And when he'd last spoken to Edith she had called her a spoiled brat, and intimated that she could have said worse, that she spent so much on clothes it was a wonder she didn't ruin her husband. She said she spent all her time napping or resting, and didn't spend any time running the house, which was just as well, because no one would have listened. They all worked for Mister Patterson, she made very clear, and had since before “shed” been there. And she even blamed the loss of her job now on Marielle and not Malcolm.

The housekeeper said almost nothing, and said she knew very little of Mrs. Patterson's habits. She made it equally clear that Mrs. Patterson herself was of no interest. Only Mister Patterson mattered.

Only Betty had a few kind things to say. And Haverford seemed to feel sorry for her, although he wouldn't say why, and he refused to open up to John Taylor. And of course, when they last interviewed him, Patrick the driver continued his tale about her “boyfriend,” which Taylor suggested he keep to himself, as there was more to it than he knew and he could very easily find himself a material witness, which, for a moment at least, seemed to frighten him into silence.

But the picture Taylor got was one of a woman who was universally disliked for reasons he couldn't fathom. She was the outcast she had described herself to be, in her own house, and very few of the people who supposedly worked for her seemed to know or like her. He got the feeling that she was withdrawn from all of them, and he suspected correctly that she was very lonely. It was still puzzling him when he walked into the library to see Malcolm, and he mentioned it while Haverford brought them each a cup of coffee.

“Why is it,” he put a spoonful of sugar in and left it black as he glanced up at Malcolm, “that so many of your servants seem to dislike her?” He saw Haverford watching him, but the old butler said nothing.

Malcolm let out a long sigh and stared out the window. “She's not a strong person, you know …she's weak, and frightened, and perhaps they sense it. She's had,” he seemed to hesitate, “ahh …mental problems, shall we say … in the past …and she still suffers from terrible headaches.”

“That's no reason to hate her.” They all seemed to have so little regard for Marielle as a person, as though she didn't count, as though she didn't exist, as though they worked for him and not for her and wanted everyone to know it. And John Taylor couldn't help wondering if Malcolm had set it up that way, to keep her powerless in her own house. She seemed to have absolutely no control over anyone, not her child, or her staff, and certainly not her husband. Even Miss Griffin had admitted that she'd never followed Mrs. Patterson's orders. She took her orders, as she put it, from the boy's father. But when he asked her why, she couldn't explain it, except to say that Marielle was weak and didn't know her own mind, but that didn't make sense to him. She didn't seem weak when he talked to her. She made sense, she was intelligent, and polite, and even if she had headaches, that didn't make her crazy. But that was the feeling he was getting now, that they all thought she was a little “off,” as though her mind and her judgment couldn't be trusted. And he couldn't help wondering what had made them think that.

“I don't think anyone hates her here. What a terrible thing to say.” Malcolm smiled benignly, but then he looked at him almost sadly. “She's not a strong girl, and she's had terrible problems. Who's to say that she will even be able to endure the shock of all this? This could be the last straw in an already very tenuous picture.”

“Is that what you think?” Taylor knew he was onto something, but he wasn't sure what. And there was something else he wanted to know. But he was saving that for later. “Is that what you're telling me?” Taylor pressed. “That she's crazy?”

“Of course not.” Malcolm looked outraged at the insult to his wife. “I'm telling you she's fragile.”