Corner Of The Housetop: Buried Secrets

by Leen Elle

  Walking towards the door, Derek tossed back, "Good. Maybe she'll work herself right into a heart attack and stop being a bother to everyone."

  "Derek!"

  "Sorry, sorry. I'm going. See?"

  "You just better hope you get out there before Devon's finished his work," Beth called to him as he climbed the stairs. "If he finds that horse out there by herself, you know Mrs. Worthington will hear of it."

  "I'll be back to clean up as soon as I get the horse in," he answered.

  Ducking out the door and running behind the house and back over the lawn, Derek slowed when he saw Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth still in the corral, standing complacently by the back fence, her tail swinging contently back and forth as she chewed on a tuft of grass.

  "I ran for that?" Strolling down the hill, he began to hum to himself. The overcast day promised rain for the night. He only hoped it would be clear in the morning for the ride to church. He knew only too well that rain didn't stop Mrs. Worthington from climbing into her blue carriage and making the long, wet, bumpy trek to town. And with all the extra people….

  A flicker of hope lit in his chest. Maybe he would get to stay home. Smiling at the thought of an Anthony-free week, Derek said, "All right, God. You're supposed to answer prayers? Here's one for you. Make Mrs. Worthington let me stay home tomorrow."

  Unlocking the latch and opening the gate, Derek called, "You ready to go in, nag? Come on."

  Braying and shaking her head, Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth trotted to the farthest side of the corral and stood there, looking across at him defiantly.

  "Oh, you're gonna start having an attitude with me? Fine. Stay out here. Hope it does rain on you." With that, he started back across the yard.

  When he got back into the kitchen, Beth and Atty were just about in the same positions they'd been in when he left.

  "Are you both sure you're all right?"

  "Just tired, sir," Atty said. Her dark skin was ashy and graying around the edges of her face, and her eyes were half-lidded.

  Beth walked over to the hearth and pulled the swing arm around with the poker. "I put water on. Should be hot enough for you."

  As she finished speaking, the small bell by the stairs started ringing madly.

  "That is one sound I do not miss," Derek told them, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around the kettle's iron handle.

  Since he'd been old enough to clamor up onto a stool and rinse dishes for Beth, Derek had worked in the kitchen, cleaning and helping out. There were days in his youth when he thought the sound of that bell ringing every time Gabriel wanted a snack, or Mrs. Worthington wanted her teapot refilled, or Jonathan just wanted to see how many times he could make Beth run up and down the kitchen stairs, would drive him insane.

  Now, away from it, the resounding, scratchy, "Boy!" he was becoming accustomed to was taking the place of the little brass bell. But somehow it was just a little more bearable. It was easier to be ordered around by a person than it was a bell.

  Beth and Atty trudged up the stairs, trays in hand, to collect the lunch dishes. They returned, piling plates, glasses, silverware, and bowls next to the basin, then turned around and took the trays back up the stairs.

  How much did they eat? Derek wondered, putting the bowls and plates in the hot water.

  Walking back down the stairs with tureens, platters, and serving spoons, Beth and Atty left their trays on the counter and sat back down.

  "You tricked me," Derek accused, glaring at the mound of dishes.

  "I'll help you with them. It's just so much more work with the Smithfield's visiting, too."

  "You don't have to. I have nothing else to be doing right now." Setting to work, Derek washed and rinsed the dishes.

  Halfway through, Atty stood up and helped him dry and stack them to be put away. She looked as if just standing was a chore, forget having to lift the plates to wipe them with her towel.

  Casting a worried glance at her, Derek just continued his work. As tired as she looks, she'll probably sleep like the dead tonight, he thought.

  When the dishes were finished, Derek wiped his hands and brought the basin up the stairs to be dumped. On his way back in, he ran into Jonathan, who was just coming down the servant stairs.

  "I thought you weren't allowed in here," he said with a superior glare.

  "I'm helping Beth and Atty in the kitchen," he replied with an equally cool glare. "With all the extra people staying they can't be expected to keep up with cooking and cleaning on their own."

  Jonathan smirked. "Aren't you just the most helpful little child."

  "At least I'm not a lazy snob," he retorted. Before he could walk around him, Mrs. Smithfield came into the hallway.

  "Jonathan, dear, could you show me Hello there. I don't think we were introduced."

  Trapped by his good manners, Jonathan turned to his mother-in-law with a smile. "Mrs. Smithfield, this is Derek. He's my mother's stable boy. He's just up to the house helping with the meals."

  "It's very nice to meet you, ma'am," Derek said politely, his face reddening. He hoped she didn't hear his earlier comment.

  "You, as well. I think Catherine has mentioned you in a couple of her letters."

  Unsure of what to say to that, Derek just looked down at his hands, which were pruning from being in the dishwater.

  "We best let Derek get back to his work, shall we? I'll show you to your room so you can rest. The main stairs are just around here." With a final glare at the boy, Jonathan led Mrs. Smithfield up the hall to the grand wooden staircase.

  Oh no. It would never do to have her go up the narrow, dark, steep stairs. She'd fall and break her leg, Derek thought with annoyance. As soon as he'd thought it, however, he felt bad for being so snide. It wasn't her fault Jonathan was a jerk. He shouldn't take it out on her.

  When the basin had been dried and placed back on the counter by the door, Beth said, "Thank you, Derek."

  "You're welcome," he answered, putting the basin back on the counter. "I should go see if Lady's decided she wants to go in."

  "You still have that poor horse outside?"

  "She wanted to stay in the corral. I didn't want to upset her most royal highness by dragging her inside." Truth-be-told, he didn't feel like chasing her around the corral with the lead.

  Beth shook he head at him. "You need to take care of your own work before you run off and help with ours."

  "It's fine. Besides, I owe you anyway from the strawberry thing."

  Handing him a roll, she just shook her head again.

  "Thanks." Derek slipped out of the house without running into Mrs. Worthington, for which he was grateful. When he got back to the stables, Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth was still grazing contently, not giving him a second look as he approached. "You ready to go in now?"

  There were dark clouds gathering slowly, the blue sky turning dingy white with eminent rainfall. Swishing her tail at him, the mare turned her back on him and started nibbling at a new patch of grass. "All right. Suit yourself."

  Five minutes later, Derek was back on his bed, his book in his hand, his pencil hovering just about the pad of paper. Pulling his blanket around his shoulders, he scribbled a few lines.

  "Boy!"

  "Yeah?"

  "You leave Lady outside by herself?"

  "She didn't want to come in yet. I was just letting her stay out for a couple extra minutes."

  "Gon' rain soon!"

  Rolling his eyes, Derek set his things back down and sitting up. "If you want me to get her now, I will, but she's not going to be very happy about it."

  There was a deep grunt and then the shuffling of feet.

  "Was that a yes?"

  "I'll git her myself! Lazy…" As he walked out of the stable, Devon's muttering faded with him.

  Throwing himself back on his hay pile, Derek stared at the ceiling. A dark foreboding filled him once more. "Is this what I'm going to be reduced to for my entire life? Will I work here until I'm old, and grumpy, and annoying like that?"
/>
  From below him there came a mixture of unhappy snorting and muttered swears.

  I warned him. Derek opened his pad of paper and stared at his scratchy handwriting. What I need is someone to tell me how to pronounce them. As he continued to look at the letters, an idea formed in his mind. It was a wonderful idea, except for the fact that it would mean talking to Mrs. Worthington. If she would tell him even what one verse said, he could start learning the sounds of those letters….

  Shaking his head, Derek thought, No. There has to be some other way. Settling down in his bed, pulling his blanket farther up over his chest, he reopened his Bible and started copying the longest verse on the page.

  Outside the open window, rain began to fall in fat drops. The winds picked up and the cool breeze turned into warm gusts. Just as the sky was turning inky black, lightening crackled across the clouds.

  Lighting his lamp, Derek wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and hunched over his book, flipping the page in his notepad over and continuing to fill the page with meaningless words.

  Chapter Twelve

  "Boy!"

  Opening his eyes slowly, Derek looked over at the ladder. "What?" he called groggily.

  "Mrs. Worthington says you ain't goin' to church. Ain't enough room. But that don' mean you ain't gitting up! Git up and feed the horses 'for I got to take Blue out."

  No church? Sitting up, his sleepiness melting away, Derek laughed to himself. No church! It was probably the only time he'd ever stayed home on a Sunday morning. If there was another glorious, wonderful morning like this, he couldn't remember it. Getting up, Derek reveled in the fact that he didn't have to put on those awful pants and uncomfortable shirt for another whole week.

  He was humming as he climbed down the ladder. "It's a wonderful morning, isn't it, Blueberry?"

  The horse scuffed his feet, looking down at him blankly.

  "But you don't know the difference, do you? Well that's just fine." Pouring the pail of oats into his trough, Derek patted Blueberry's nose. As he gave Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth her breakfast, he smiled at her. "And a wonderful morning to you, too, my lady."

  "You gone mad, boy?"

  "No. I don't have to go to church." Grinning, he hung the pail in its place and grabbed his hat off the pile of grain bags by the door where he usually kept it. "What do you want for breakfast?"

  "Don' matter," Devon said moodily, taking Blueberry's lead down.

  Stepping out into the pale morning, Derek shoved his hands into his pockets, whistling contently as he strolled across the lawn.

  Gray clouds blocked the sun and whatever warmth that had come when the night's storm had faded. There was thickness to the air that promised a humid day, but for the moment, everything was perfect as far as Derek was concerned.

  When he walked through the door, Derek found himself face to face with Mrs. Worthington, who was coming up from the kitchen. Her face turned bright red in a matter of seconds and she began to sputter. "Wha You There had better be a very good reason you are in here." The presence of guests seemed to calm her usual screeching, but the loathing was still in her blue eyes.

  "Jonathan said I had to help with meals," he explained quickly, hoping Jonathan wouldn't walk in, too. "He said it took too long yesterday. Clean up, and all."

  Her rage seemed to subside for a moment before she leaned close to him, her nose inches from his. "You do as you're told, boy," she hissed, "but if I see you, you'll be in for it. Do you understand? No one sees you."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Derek. Are you going to join us for breakfast?"

  Turning quickly, her glare becoming a warm smile, Mrs. Worthington said, in an overly cheerful voice, "Catherine, dear, what are you doing downstairs?"

  "I felt better this morning so I thought I'd have breakfast with everyone." Her eyes were shining and her hair was braided beautifully. She was wearing a simple dress with long sleeves and a high collar. She looked perfect. Even her cheeks had a tinge of healthy pink.

  "I'm very glad to hear it." Mrs. Worthington took her arm and steered her into the dining room.

  Catherine looked questioningly over her shoulder at Derek and stopped for a moment, but was pushed along by the old woman's firm grip before she could restate her question.

  Poor girl. She should have stayed in bed, Derek thought, going down the stairs to the kitchen.

  "Oh, thank goodness it's you," Beth said. She was holding a frying pan. "I thought it was her, back again."

  "Evil is never fully dispelled," he replied darkly. "That's the first thing they teach you in church."

  "I'm serious. I almost threw this at you. On accident, of course."

  Smirking, Derek sauntered into the room. "Of course. Where's Atty?"

  "Sick. Couldn't even get out of bed, the poor thing."

  "This is too much work for just the two of you. You'll both be sick from exhaustion." Derek walked over to the cupboard and took out the large tray.

  "You're down here to help?"

  "Yeah. I sort of stuck myself here, but that's all right. And do you know why it's all right?"

  Putting her hands on her hips, Beth studied him for a second. "Hmm. I heard you talking to Missus Worthington. Why would talking to her put you in the mood to grin like that? I can't think of a thing. Why?"

  Grinning even more, he said, "I don't have to go to church. There won't be enough room in the carriage."

  "That would explain it." She handed him several plates. "Here."

  Setting toast and jam on the tray, Derek went around to the other side of the table and sat down. "Catherine looks better today," he said conversationally, spreading strawberry jam on a slice of bread.

  "Does she? That's good."

  Biting into his toast, he raised his eyebrows when Beth glared at him over her shoulder.

  "Those are for the family."

  "Bartholomew doesn't need two pieces. Have you seen how fat he is?"

  "Derek."

  "Sorry." Swallowing the last of his toast, Derek stood up and started putting bowls on the tray. A plate of biscuits and then a tureen of gravy. Some bacon. And, of course, some apple juice and a pitcher of milk.

  "Bring that up."

  "Yes, ma'am," he answered, still grinning.

  "And drop that smart attitude. Mrs. Worthington won't like you smiling around the dining room like that."

  Laughing at her stern expression, Derek walked quickly up the stairs. He felt comfortable being back in his usual place; going up and down the narrow, stone, kitchen stairs with an armload of food and dishes was as natural to him as breathing.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Worthington," he said, setting a plate of toast and a bowl in front of her.

  She smiled at him, looking oddly kind. There was no doubt in his mind that her good attitude came from the several guests seated around the table.

  "Hi, Derek!" Abigail yelled.

  "We're inside, darling," Mrs. Smithfield said calmly.

  In no softer a voice, the little girl said, "All right."

  "'Morning, Abigail," Derek answered with a smile, setting her breakfast in front of her.

  When all the dishes were set out and the food was on the table, Derek returned to the kitchen. "Now am I allowed to eat?"

  "There's more gravy in the pot." Beth handed him a plate with two biscuits and a couple strips of bacon.

  Pouring gravy over his plate, he asked, "So what do you do on Sunday when there's no one to yell at you and make sure you're doing your chores?"

  "Normally we do our chores. Since Missus Worthington Master Worthington's wife, Missus Worthington, not Missus Worthington has been here, we have a small Sunday service of our own. She reads out of her Bible and we talk about what it says. Usually it's just Atty and me who sit with her, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you wanted to join us. Or would that ruin your good, 'no church' mood?"

  The thought of spending a whole morning with Catherine just made the day even better. Smiling, Derek said, "Sure. It sounds like fu
n. I'm mainly happy because I don't have to put up with Anthony again."

  When he finished eating, Derek packed some of the leftover food into a basket for Devon. "I'm going to run this up to Devon, then I'll be back to help clear the dishes."

  "All right."

  Taking the basket and nearly skipping up the stairs, he walked out through the door just as the first few raindrops of a morning shower started falling. His gratitude at staying home multiplied yet again. There would never be a better day. No matter how good his life got, no day could possibly outdo this one.

  The next hour was filled with cleaning and the sound of people bustling around upstairs, getting ready to leave. The rain started in earnest and it was to the tapping tune of a summer storm that the Worthington-Smithfield entourage marched out to the carriage.

  When the dining room and kitchen were cleaned, Beth said, "Are you ready to go up and see Mrs. Worthington?"

  "Will you please call her something else?" Derek threw the wash towel into the laundry tub.

  "That's her name."

  Scowling, he jogged up the stairs. "So?"

  Chuckling, Beth followed him. They went up the main staircase and Beth knocked lightly on Catherine's door.

  "Come in."

  "Good morning, Mrs. Worthington."

  Laying in bed, Catherine had her Bible opened on her lap. "I'm glad you could come up. I thought you might be very busy."

  "Derek helped me, ma'am."

  Looking at him, her smile brightened even more. "Good morning, Derek."

  "'Morning, Miss Catherine." Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Derek waited, unsure of what to do with himself.

  "I thought we'd talk about Job. Do you know about him at all?"

  Beth shook her head.

  "Isn't he the one who lost everything? His sons and his house, and all?" Derek asked, recalling the lesson in which Mr. Millstone had mentioned poor, pitiful Job with extreme clarity.

  It had actually been the first Sunday after Jonathan returned from school for summer vacation. Acting as a deacon, he seemed to have felt it to be his own personal responsibility to make sure all the children in the class fully understood what "suffering" meant.

  "Mmm-hmm," Catherine said, nodding. "Job suffered a great deal. He suffered because God let Satan destroy everything he owned. And even as he is suffering, his friends are contending with him at points."