“I thought you’d like a portrait of your two favorite daughters,” said Miss Helen.
Mr. Frick closed his palm over the image briefly, then held it up for the entire table to see.
Mrs. Frick looked as if she were about to be sick.
“You are so incredibly thoughtless,” said Mr. Childs. “Why on earth would you desecrate that with your ugly mug?”
Miss Helen spoke through gritted teeth. “See, Father? That’s what I’ve had to put up with my whole life. You understand why I did it, right? To please you.”
Mr. Childs didn’t back down. “You’re only concerned with the will. Don’t pretend it’s anything else.”
“Childs!” Mrs. Frick had found her voice again. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”
Mr. Frick sat back in his chair, watching with what Lillian was sure was amusement the disruption unfolding around him. His beastly mistreatment of his children this afternoon didn’t square up with the softhearted man she’d met in the art gallery that late night, who was so tearfully proud and protective of Miss Helen. Late at night, among his treasures, was probably the only place he allowed himself to show any hint of compassion.
“Now we see what lies behind all of your flattery,” intoned Mr. Frick. “Both of you”—he pointed at Miss Helen and then at Mr. Childs—“ought to be ashamed. Martha would never have behaved so abominably. You’ll just have to wait, won’t you? Then again, patience was never your strength, either of you.”
He rose, but then sat down again, hard, one hand to his belly.
“What is it, Father, another attack?” Miss Helen placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Help me to my sitting room, Helen, would you?”
Mr. Childs rose to assist, but his sister called to Lillian. “Take his other arm, Miss Lilly.”
They brought him to the elevator and up to the second floor. By the time he reached the doorway to the sitting room he was looking a little less pale. He sat on the sofa, staring up at the coffered ceiling with a vacant expression on his face while Miss Helen fetched him a glass of water.
“Thank you, my love,” he said when she returned and knelt down at his feet, watching him drink and then holding the glass out for Lillian to take.
“Of course, Papsie. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
He put his hand on her cheek. “It’s a beautiful miniature. I will treasure it always. I do wish you could have grown up with Martha as your big sister. She had such a gentle nature. She might have tempered yours.”
The man knew exactly where to place the knife and turn it.
“I admonished Martha for two years, stop crying, stop complaining.” Even though Mr. Frick’s eyes stayed on Miss Helen, she was no longer his focus; he’d disappeared into the memory of another daughter. “We didn’t know what she’d done. I thought she was being obstinate. It was my fault.”
“No, it wasn’t. You didn’t know,” Miss Helen assured him.
“I told them not to operate, to practice homeopathy, which I had great faith in. But what if I’d let them fix her properly? She might have improved, and those four terrible years of suffering would not have happened. In the end, she couldn’t eat, couldn’t drink, she wasted away. She could barely speak or breathe, she was so overcome with pain, her body riddled with sepsis. I gave her my hand to bite.” He held out the hand with the scar Lillian had noticed that night in the art gallery. “You see?”
“I know, Papsie,” said Miss Helen. “You did what you could. It was a different time, we didn’t have X-ray machines, or proper medicine.”
“That was when your mother became ill with her neuralgia. I shouldn’t be so cruel. You’ll tell her I’m sorry, won’t you?”
“You can tell her yourself. She’s fine, we’re all fine.”
“You’re a good girl.”
Miss Helen smiled liked she’d been blessed by the pope.
Even with all their money, the family had been afflicted by tragedy that reverberated down the generations. Martha’s death had made them all their worst selves: Mrs. Frick fragile and ill, Mr. Frick cruel, their son desperate to cause trouble, and Miss Helen far too eager to please.
Downstairs, the doorbell chimed.
“It must be Mr. Danforth,” said Miss Helen. “See to him, Lilly. Have him return tomorrow.”
In all the fuss, Lillian had forgotten he was expected. She found him walking down the main hallway, looking confused.