The Traitor's Stain (wattys 2019)

Chapter Forty-Two: Setauket, Long Island

The dinner party for Abraham's return home was only a few days after Noah's funeral. The Woodhulls offered to postpone it until next week, give Ophelia and everyone else in Setauket who'd cared deeply for Noah more time to mourn him before celebrating, but she'd talked them out of it: they'd nearly lost their son because of her, and the last thing she wanted to do was keep them from celebrating the fact that their son was returning to them. Alive.

However, the day of the dinner, she spent much of her time debating with herself over whether or not she would even go. She was happy - overjoyed, even - that Abraham was finally home. But... she wasn't certain that she could face him, yet. Face the man who'd nearly died trying to help her. Not so soon after they'd laid Noah to rest.

But, in the end, she decided to go. Constance needed a night of fun, without the thought of what had happened to her father hanging over her head like the executioner's axe. The parents of one of Constance's dear friends, Charlotte, had offered to watch her for the night. Ophelia knew that if she were to stay at home alone, the only thing she'd have to keep her company would be the thoughts of her husband, buried in some grave far away in Connecticut. Out of reach.

She needed to go; it was either that or face thoughts that threatened to drive her insane.

And so, she gave Beth the night off and headed for the Woodhulls.

The affair that night was simple. At least, as simple as any even planned by Mary Woodhull could possibly be. Those invited came in their best clothes, the silks shining in the candlelight. Ophelia felt out of place amid the bright, festive colors in her mourning dress, amid the laughter and the joy. People looked at her with pity, and others even avoided looking at her. As if the sight of the new widow would bring tragedy into their own lives.

That's what hurt almost as much as the fact that Noah was gone and never coming back. She hated the way everyone treated her like the plague, now. The way they were weary of her and her black dress. She knew that they probably didn't even realize they were doing it, and she didn't want to bring it up, make people more careful around her. The sooner people began treated her the same way they had, before, the better.

"Ophelia!" Mary said the moment she saw her. She walked over, wine glass in hand, and hugged her with one arm. Ophelia hugged her back. "Oh, it's so good of you to come! Have you had anything to eat? Drink?"

"Not yet, no," Ophelia said. "I just got here."

"Well, we can't have that." She lead her into the dining room, where the Woodhulls' servants had set out some drinks and desserts.

Abraham was standing in the far corner of the room, talking with Selah and Anna. He was smiling, but she couldn't help but notice how frail he still looked. Especially with the simple, wooden cane he now had.

Ophelia's heart sank when she saw the cane. "Is that..."

"Permanent?" Mary finished for her. "No: the bout of influenza took a lot of his strength from him; he's been bedridden. He's just got that cane until he gets his legs back underneath him."

Ophelia let out a sigh of relief.

That was about when Abraham saw her. He smiled and hobbled over. "Ophelia! Glad to see you could make it."

She smiled. "It's good to see you. How do you feel?"

"Well, I've been better," Abraham said. "What about you? I'm sorry that I couldn't be there for the service."

I'm sorry, too, Ophelia thought as she and Abraham walked back over to where Anna and Selah were. I'm sorry that I almost got you killed. I'm sorry that you spent so much time in a bed in a different city, that your family almost lost you like I just lost Noah.