Charlock's Secret

by Leah Moyes

  Rushing to free myself of any encumbrance, I slipped out of my gown. I eagerly tore both the corset at the seams and a hole in the stockings. Glancing around at my options, I would have given anything for my yoga pants at this very moment, but the most reasonable item found, was the new nightgown Ana had left me. I threw my robe over it and grabbed the quilt off the bed.

  Without a plan in mind, I headed for the back stairs once again, and somehow my legs led me to the river. It was the one place I needed to get to, the one place I could clear my head—my favorite hiding spot.

  Luckily, in my trek, the illumination from the house and grounds guided my passage and offered an effortless path. The small patch of grass well-hidden between the perimeter of the woods and the water’s edge was my private piece of heaven. Tucked away near a canopied wall of vines, I had claimed it over a month ago. One would think such a place in the wild might be frightening, but at this moment, anger outweighed any possible fear.

  Fuming thoughts raged through my head. I first screamed at God. I didn’t even know if there really was a God, but if the church’s pastor was correct, the almighty would be the only one right now that could hear me. I cursed his name. His distorted idea of happiness and the choice he made to take the only man I ever loved away from me. He stole the living breath from Jeff and left me to suffer alone.

  I can never forgive him.

  I peered up to a blackened sky. One by one, stars appeared until the entire ceiling seemed to pulsate as diamonds. Where is he? I wondered. Can Jeff see me, feel me, or hear me?

  Scanning the glassy water nearby, I marveled at the reflection of the moon as it shone directly dead center. It was on a night exactly like this, that Jeff went down on one knee and proposed. I buried my head into the blanket. It didn’t matter if I was in Arizona or England, sorrow and emptiness found me. Tears that had been carefully held back, spilled freely down my cheeks, and for the second time this evening, I cried.

  Within the hour, my sobs were swallowed up by crackling explosions. My body shook to the boom and pop of colorful fireworks overhead. The massive display was the concluding trademark of each successful Gilford ball.

  It was over.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I awoke the next morning to a deer sipping water from the river. I wasn’t entirely sure who was more startled—me, or the animal. The only animals I woke up to in New York, were sewer rats, and in Arizona, it was the scorpions and cockroaches I encountered.

  Despite the changing color of autumn, the sun shone brightly above. Lucky for me, the air was not as crisp as it could’ve been with the climate change in September. I lingered long in my sanctuary since there was no rush to return. The household was given this one day off as a thank you for the hard efforts achieved from a triumphant night. However, for many, it only meant double duty tomorrow.

  While I reflected on the ball, I grew increasingly upset over my cowardly actions. I was a city girl. I never ran from anything! Why now do I cower and retreat every time someone looks at me wrong or raises their voice? But this wasn't just anyone . . . it was Merritt. We were friends. He always understood my differences. He even seemed to accept it or laugh at my stupidity, and above all, remained a gentleman. He was playful and silly with his sisters, tender and loving towards his mother, and filled with respect and obedience to his father. What did I do or say to make him that upset?

  I replayed the night over in my head. He was teaching me how to dance. It was amazing. Then I congratulated him on his engagement . . . to Johnna. Johnna. I know that I have voiced her name tour after tour; it was always Merritt and Johnna. Maybe that is a pet name for Margaret? But why would he get upset when I said it? I must’ve changed things somehow . . . with me being here. I must’ve altered the outcome. What have I done? Maybe Johnna was the original governess? Then when I arrived and took her place, I stopped Merritt from falling in love with her.

  I could barely breathe. What if I changed history! Could that really happen? What else have I screwed up?

  Blood drained from my face. Pulling the blanket back over my head, I curled on the grass. How can I fix this? How can I fix anything? I don't even know how to get back to 2010. Much less, unravel the trouble I’ve caused here.

  I delayed outside another hour but failed to conjure up any ideas or plans that made any sense. As I shuffled slowly up the path that led back to the house, my heart remained heavy. Here, I thought Merritt was out of line and all along, I’m the one that interfered with his life. Look at who he’s left with—Margaret. The poor boy is desperate. No, that makes little sense. At 23, his prospects couldn't possibly be that slim, not for him. Something doesn't smell kosher, and it's up to me to make this right.

  I approached the back door with hesitation, then set my jaw and entered. Whatever lies ahead, I needed to show myself I could do this. Instantly, Lizzy met me with her usual unbridled spirit. So much, it nearly busted out of her perfectly petite form.

  “Where have you be—?” She stopped cold and gave me a shocking glance over. Instinctively I reached up to my hair and felt grass and sticks popping out in all directions. My messy half unfurled bun hung to one side.

  I smiled.

  “Did you catch a kip outside?” She nearly choked on the words.

  “Um, ya . . . I did,” I laughed. “I mean, I didn't plan on it, I simply fell asleep, but it was nice.”

  She rolled her eyes, grabbed my arm in hers and lovingly guided me to the stairs. “How am I supposed to find you a respectable suitor, if you run out on the only ball we host, and then sleep outside like a wild animal?” She was trying to come across annoyed, but she couldn't conceal the lift in her voice.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzy.” My lips jutted out in a pout.

  She giggled aloud. “Oh my, you are—” Her voice trailed to a stop. Initially, we failed to see that someone had blocked our way up the main stairs until it was too late.

  “Ugh,” Margaret groaned. She placed both of her hands on her slender waist and drew my attention to her womanly curves. “Lizzy, dear—” her face twisted in obvious jealousy of our closeness, “—you don't have lessons, remember?” She tirelessly inspected my frazzled appearance then continued, “The servants have the day off.” Her black eyes zeroed in on mine, her snobbery flowed thick.

  Servant? I whispered under my breath. I'll show you, master and servant. If only I’d met her in a back alley on my turf somewhere. My knuckles popped. Lizzy sensed my body tighten under her grasp.

  “How can I be of assistance to you, Margaret?” Lizzy showed maturity beyond her years with the calmness in her voice.

  “I want to ride . . .” the she-devil whined and floated to the nearest mirror. A three-quarter-length gold plated frame became her target as she brushed her hair off her flawless forehead. Turning to the side, she admired her own profile. “I'm brassed-off,” she moaned, and puckered her lips in a full sulk.

  I gagged, recognizing her game. It was one that she probably used often on an unsuspecting Merritt; whose kindness allowed it to happen.

  “Merritt left me to hunt.” Margaret smoothed out her dress. Then glanced over as if she remembered her audience. “Come ride with me, little sister.” She reached for her hand and physically detached it from mine. Lizzy's reaction to her sentiments was not missed. With wide eyes, she appeared to crack a smile. Lizzy told me they had only met a few days ago, yet, Margaret flaunted this unbreakable bond.

  “Abagale will go,” Lizzy suggested politely. Margaret ignored the closeness between us and boldly wedged her body through. With one smooth swoop, she flung her hair in my face and linked her own arm to Lizzy's. In a matter of seconds, she led her down the hall and away from me. Lizzy turned back with an apologetic look but respectfully continued.

  My body held still in place. I would’ve never let that happen a couple of years ago. Maggie would’ve been pulling splinters out of her teeth if she had any teeth left. I turned to that same mirror Margaret ogled over, but it somehow lost its enc
hantment because a lowly sad woman stared back. Who have I become? I pulled a stray wildflower pressed against the bosom of my nightgown and rolled it between my fingers. I didn’t know this person anymore. I needed to find Katharine. Actually, I need to find Kat! I cannot live life here or in my century as a sleepwalker. Something had to change . . . and soon.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next day, Lizzy joined me after her noonday ride. She explained that Margaret would be a guest at the house for the next several weeks, making wedding plans.

  “I hope you find that agreeable, Miss Katharine?”

  “Why would it matter what I think?”

  “I suppose it doesn’t.” Elizabeth lovingly reached for my hand and walked with me, “It just seemed like your relations were less than gracious.”

  “She’s a . . . what do you call them . . . a scrubber?”

  Lizzy’s mouth fell open. She used that term once before, and her mother nearly backhanded her for it. She covered her mouth and muffled a giggle as we walked down the hall.

  “I don’t think she’s what Merritt wants,” I spoke candidly.

  “I don’t believe you understand, Katharine. Merritt—” Lizzy stopped herself. Despite my apparent lack of comprehension, she refrained from elaboration. “Margaret will be family soon. We must be kind.”

  Lizzy really didn’t have a choice, but I did. However, out of my love for the family, I agreed to control myself . . . for now.

  “Life will get rather busy soon,” Lizzy added. “Margaret’s parents will arrive on the first of October.”

  “Her parents? Here?”

  “Yes. There's a wedding to plan. Since it’s a half day's journey by carriage back to her own estate, they will reside here until the ceremony. The pre-ceremony festivities alone, encompass a week, it’s customary for a Gilford nuptial.”

  When we finally reached the quietness of her room, I felt bold enough to ask. “Does Merritt love her?”

  Lizzy hesitated. She seemed consumed in her thoughts.

  “From what I have seen . . .” she said as we sat on the edge of the bed together, “I believe he does.”

  My heart sank. Not because I remotely believed I had a chance to win his heart, or even if my heart was capable, but because he seemed duped. There was something about Margaret that didn’t sit right with me and even though I didn’t know Merritt well enough to distinguish his emotions, genuine love was hard to miss.

  Even centuries apart, I knew scheming women hadn’t changed. Merritt was a typical guy. Well, not exactly typical, but he was, I'm sure, attracted to her goddess-like features —long beautiful hair, flawless complexion, full red lips, deep mysterious eyes, and her nearly perfect figure. What guy wouldn't fall for that? Her looks would eventually go, right? Then what? There must be more to a relationship than physical attraction.

  When I first met Jeff, I had no idea he came from money. He drove an old Chevy truck, wore tank tops and board shorts, and lived on cheap takeout. He was unlike anyone I’d ever met, humble, intelligent, and kind to everyone. Before we became exclusive though, there was this one girl who seemed to appear everywhere he was. She was beautiful and smart. Though I recognized how cunning and deceptive she was right away, Jeff seemed unaware of it. Her manipulative efforts to win his affection failed. The more he paid attention to me, the more conniving she got. Somehow, the memory of this girl reminded me of Margaret.

  “Katharine? What are you thinking about?” Lizzy put her arm around me as my eyes glossed over.

  “Is it Merritt?” She continued.

  “Um,” My delay lengthened. I wanted to tell her about Jeff. It had been way too long since I talked about him, and I feared with each passing day, his memory—our memory would fade, and that scared me to death. “I—” the words struggled to come forth.

  “Lizzzzzy?” The wail emerged from the hall like a bleating goat. “Lizzzzzy.” Margaret's face appeared through the door frame. How convenient. My corresponding eye roll was blatant.

  “Oh,” she cried with fake surprise as she saw Lizzy comforting me on her bed. “Are you allowed to be in the private quarters?” Margaret probed shrewdly, “I mean . . . under such casual circumstances?”

  Lizzy spoke quickly. “She’s my friend, Margaret, and we are merely conversing.” She said it politely, but in a way, any normal person would have seen it as a clue to leave. Not Margaret, she acted as though the world only revolved around her.

  She sauntered over to the other side of Lizzy and maneuvered her behind awkwardly onto the end of the bed. The silence that followed should have been the other clue.

  “Pray tell, what might you girls be nattering about?” She emphasized the word girls. Lizzy being sweet and innocent, felt no harm in sharing.

  “We were talking about Merritt.”

  This immediately piqued Margaret's interest. Her form stiffened. “Oh, really? What about Merritt?” Her eyes flashed to mine. Lizzy didn’t see the quiet strike launched my direction, but I expected it. Not that I was all that and a bag of chips back home. It was a territory thing. Something I was fairly familiar with.

  “She—” Lizzy answered, but I cut her off.

  “I was telling Lizzy how stunning you both looked together at the ball.”

  Lizzy's nose crinkled. Margaret's lips pressed into a tight, thin line. I was sure she didn't buy it, but she moved on. “Yes, we were the crème de la crème.” She smiled. “He did faun all over me, didn't he?” She gloated.

  “Congratulations on the engagement.” My accolades were more like condolences for the groom, but she didn’t appear to notice my monotony.

  “Merritt will make a decent husband.” Lizzy’s chortle caused her to miss what Margaret mumbled next. “He’ll never be—”

  I only caught part of it. The words were too soft for clarification. “What did you say?” My inquiry came with an edge of boldness. “I’m sorry I didn’t quite hear you.”

  The wasp’s eyes squinted my direction. Her mouth pulled again as she spoke. “Father insists the wedding should be prompt. Merritt’s delay until next month is imprudent. 15 October is much too prolonged and most inconvenient.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you said?” I pushed, quite enjoying the tension I caused.

  “He had to issue the banns, Margaret. It takes three weeks.” Lizzy defended.

  I shifted my attention back to Lizzy and lightened my tone. “What’s the banns?” The term was foreign to me.

  “It’s the notification of an intent to marry,” Margaret whined.

  “Read in the parish, in case someone makes a protest,” Lizzy added.

  “Which no one would dare.” Margaret snapped quickly. She even turned my direction when she said it.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Merritt wasn’t wrapped around Margaret’s delicate finger after all . . . but why rush? Most weddings took months to prepare, not a month. Could she be? There’s no way! I nearly gagged at the suggestion of possible intimacy, though Merritt disappeared often at night. No, despite Margaret’s unfailing beauty, he didn’t come across as a man fervent with a desire to bed her. Nothing made sense.

  “Speaking of the wedding, Lizzy . . .” Margaret grabbed Lizzy's hand and lifted her to her feet unexpectedly. “My dear sister, you must help me with the arrangements. Your opinion on the delicacies is vital, and Merritt is hunting . . . again. A behavior that will be remedied soon enough. Please come and assist me?”

  Lizzy stammered, “I—what about Miss Katharine?”

  “Katharine?” She glanced back at me. Her struggle to hide her repulsion didn’t go unnoticed. “It's your day off, remember. Go do something—” She was searching for the right word when a smirk formed. “Unservantly.” She scoffed as though she was the one who freed me from bondage.

  There was a sudden rush of heat through my body. A nerve was triggered, but before I could react, Margaret swept Lizzy out the door.

  I’ve dealt with girls like Margaret before, and I didn’t think twi
ce about them, but she burrowed under my skin like a tick. Maybe it was because Merritt seemed inexperienced. Could he possibly be that naïve? Suddenly, Lizzy's face appeared before mine. She gave me a quick hug and whispered in my ear, “I love you, Miss Katharine, I’m sorry.” Then she disappeared once again.

  I ventured outside. Drawn to the hypnotic lure of the outdoors, mostly for fresh air and the sense of freedom it offered, but it also became my refuge when I wanted to think or be alone. I hiked the back trail to the river; the flowers were overgrown, and wild but smelled divine. Divine? Did I just say divine? I’d never live that one down back home. Home . . . wherever home was. Was this to be my new reality? Would I ever figure out why this happened or ever return?

  I stopped walking when the barking dogs became louder than my thoughts. Glancing over near the edge of the forest, a dozen beagles ran for the clearing. They celebrated their success with uncontrollable energy. My position remained still knowing the horses would follow suit. I sincerely hoped the height of the brush would conceal me adequately from their view.

  Once the horses appeared, I was naturally drawn to their presentation. They rode in majestic precision back towards the house. A fresh kill of pheasants was gripped proudly in the men’s hands. Although part of the pack, Merritt stood out on his chocolate stallion. His horse, “Captain”, had been his companion for most of his life.

  As the entourage passed, Merritt noticed me. I had not intended to stare, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away, and it seemed neither could he. A much gentler look settled across his visage than what I’d seen the night of the ball, almost sullen, possibly apologetic. Maybe the hunt made him human again somehow. My response was knowingly harsh, but I’d never seen him react that way to me or anyone. It caught me off guard and weighed heavily on my mind.

  He trotted past me slowly but picked up speed once more when his father's voice quipped for his attention. However, as he approached the pack, he quickly turned once more and galloped back in my direction. He didn't get off his horse but tipped his hat courteously as he came to a stop.