Charlock's Secret

by Leah Moyes

  My eyes followed his movements carefully. The details of the tragedy had never been revealed or shared. Pauline never once mentioned it in all of her tours. As I watched Merritt’s hands wringing in front of him, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know now either.

  “My friend, Ruben and I, proceeded to go fishing when Peter appeared behind me. I hollered at him to return—I thought he had. It wasn’t until I heard the splash, I realized he ignored my request. He had tried to cross the same log I passed moments before.”

  Tears slipped down his cheeks; mine followed suit. A large flash exploded from outside and lit up the room. Just enough to show the immense suffering on Merritt’s face. We now shared more than games or secrets; we shared the agony of guilt and regret. I reached out for his hand and held on.

  “Peter was caught by the rushing water, and by the time I got help, it was too late. If only I’d walked him home or let him sit with me, he would be 19 years old right now. Probably at Oxford or Cambridge, a budding parliamentarian, and following father’s footsteps in law. Whatever he would’ve done, he would’ve been great, but he is nothing. Nothing but bones, buried under a mound of dirt behind the manor and all because of me.”

  “Merritt,” I stood up next to him. “You can’t blame yourself.” My fingers slid from his hand to his face this time.

  “Guilt will rip you up and destroy you.” I rubbed his cheek and took a deep breath, allowing more air to enter my lungs. “I know because it’s been my companion for quite some time.”

  “I don’t understand,” Merritt questioned.

  I let my hand fall from his face. “I’m responsible for Jeff’s death.”

  “How?”

  “We were in a car accident.”

  Merritt’s eyebrows turned inward. “What’s a car accident?”

  I sighed. Being careful took its toll. Even after several months, I still forget to watch my words. “Where I come from, we have different types of transportation, and it was, uh, faster than a carriage . . .” I made it worse. Merritt’s face went blank. “Jeff died because of me.” I spit it out swiftly. Few people knew the truth.

  Merritt led me back to the chairs. I couldn’t believe I said it out loud. I have never said it out loud.

  “I distracted him and . . .” my words trailed off, unable to finish. My throat strained as I fought the desire to cry. “I’m the reason he’s dead. He would be alive if it weren’t for me.”

  Merritt held me. I buried my head in my hands. “We’d only been engaged for two months. He was the one I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. Now I’m alone, trying to move on, and I don’t want to.”

  I moved my hands and buried my face into his shoulder. We remained still for a long time.

  After many minutes, Merritt spoke. “I suppose we both must pursue a means to forgive ourselves.”

  I lifted my head and found his eyes. Mine felt puffy and sore, but the tears had stopped. “How do you suppose we do that?” I questioned.

  “I’m uncertain.” A flicker returned. “But, I believe the endeavor shouldn’t have to be braved alone.”

  I smiled. A warmth caressed my heart

  Nothing more was said. I’m not sure anything was necessary. Merritt and I grew closer in one night than anyone possibly could without being romantically attached. I entered foreign territory with the connection we shared but without a doubt, this became a night I could never forget.

  As the storm calmed, and the clock continued to chime with each passing hour, the weight of responsibility fell upon Merritt. “May I escort you back to your room now, Katharine, it’s nearly dawn, and . . .” He paused with trepidation.

  “What?”

  “Well, I fear your reputation could be at risk.”

  “I’ve never been concerned about my reputation, Merritt,” I teased, enjoying the freedom the night had brought me. He didn’t recognize the jest. “I’m only kidding, I know it’s been a long night, and I’m sorry I kept you up. You probably have obligations this morning.”

  “Actually,” He beamed naturally, almost relieved at my playfulness. “I’m assembling with the others shortly, for an engagement in the parlor.”

  “An engagement?”

  “A painting.”

  “A portrait?” I sat forward, excitedly.

  “Yes.”

  “With the family?” My eyes lit up. “Everyone? Your mom and dad, Lizzy, and Abby?”

  “Yes, all of us.” He smiled wider with the knowledge his answer brought me happiness. “Father retained an artist from the Royal Academy. A Mr. William Orchardson, Scottish, I believe. It has been far too long since our last one and with mum not—” He stopped short.

  “Your mom not what?”

  “Mum . . . not home often.” He mumbled. The way his countenance twisted led me to believe he knew more but didn’t elaborate. Based on my last visit with Mrs. Gilford, it would be hard not to take notice.

  “Miss Katharine,” Merritt continued, “your room?”

  “Thank you, Merritt, but I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer.”

  “Here?” He choked the word out.

  “Yes, in here.” I glanced around. Despite the size of the room, I felt comforted with the glow of the lights. I went to the closest canapé and sat down. More than long enough, the cushion exceeded the comfort of my sofa back home. Anything to keep me from my bedroom until all the darkness had dissipated.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. You don’t have to stay. Thank you very much for sharing this with me.” I laid my head on the soft decorated pillows and pulled my robe tightly around me. Merritt excused himself and grabbed a coverlet from his own room. Then tenderly placed it over me. I smiled my thanks, and he departed.

  By morning, the storm moved on, and only a light patter of rain lingered in its wake. I watched the natural light stream into the vast room, and float to the detailed ceiling above me. This was a perspective I’d never seen, even as the tour guide. I’d been so engrossed in the crystals, the shimmer, and the grandeur that I somehow missed the figurines. Etched into each corner, a heavenly angel pointed a finger towards the base of the chandelier where golden sun rays burst outward. It was as if the angels were presenting heaven.

  Smiling at the unusual beauty I’d been privileged to behold, my thoughts, once again, shifted to Jeff. I wanted to believe he was with me and watching over me. It was all I had.

  As the house stirred, I knew it would be awkward running around in my nightgown, well not necessarily uncomfortable for me, but definitely for others. I gathered up the quilt Merritt graciously let me borrow, and I slipped out to the stairs.

  As I recalled my earlier conversation with Merritt, I cracked open the foyer door, and there in full glory and elegance was the Gilford family. Stationed, exactly how they would be eternally enshrined. I could barely conceal my excitement. My eyes danced between them and the artist’s canvas. His gifted strokes preserved each person’s profile from the hair on their heads to the end of their toes. To witness history unfold was an unbelievable miracle for me.

  I remained entranced until the family agreed to a break, then I too pulled away and carefully slipped past the entrance and up the stairs towards my bedroom, still savoring the moment.

  Once on the mezzanine, Chelsa greeted me with surprise. “Miss, why are you out in your night rail?” Then pointed the direction I came from. “And why are you coming from . . ” Her stare went the length of my torso. She shook her head.

  I laughed and headed towards my room. Halfway down the hall, I realized the quilt remained tucked under my arm.

  “Chelsa, would you do me a favor, please?”

  “Yes, Miss.” She turned around to meet me again, and I handed her the quilt.

  “Would you please see that this is returned to Merritt's room?” Her eyes widened, and her lips formed a crooked smile. Of course, I didn't consider how that sounded coming out, despite the innocence of the request.

  “Y—yes, Miss.” She
reached for the quilt. When I turned around, I ran directly into Margaret.

  “Oh, excuse me,” I said, politely. A typical response to anyone I might run into. Only, once I realized it was Margaret, I quickly moved around her. I had no intention of conversing with her today.

  “Did I perceive you correctly?” She snapped tersely, frozen in place.

  “What?” I groaned, tired, and cranky.

  “Why would you have Merritt's coverlet in your possession?”

  “None of your business, Margaret,” I replied sharply. It wasn't a big deal and had I cared, I would have made sure she understood why, but I really didn't care.

  She huffed at my brashness. “You little—” she gritted her teeth, “bugger.”

  “Bugger?” I laughed aloud. “Harsh word from a so-called lady.”

  She scowled, “I tire of your temperament, Miss Katharine!”

  “You know what . . .” I growled. She picked the wrong day! “I’m tired of your snobbery. You’re such a bit—”

  “Good morning, Miss Margaret.” Abby bounded around the corner. She giggled innocently and curtsied, “Good morning, Miss Katharine.” I bit my lip and smiled.

  “Good morning, love.” I happily responded to Abby’s sweet greeting, then turned back to face the viper. “Stay out of my way, Margaret. I’m not one you want to mess with!”

  She huffed loudly. I wrinkled my lip the way a dog would before an attack and pretended to launch towards her with ferocious claws, then held back. She let out a startled cry and flew down the hall. The look on her face was worth the reprimand I might receive later, but I didn’t care. I could relive that gratifying scene in my head for quite some time and closed my bedroom door behind me.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Two days later, the magnificent portrait was revealed during tea. I could not take my eyes off of it. As others went about their socializing, I remained entranced in front of the picture. My hand brushed the edges of the gilded frame from side to side. I wanted to touch each brushstroke, each strand of hair, and minute detail but controlled myself. Watching the others as they marveled at the artwork in brief passes, I wanted to shake them. They did not understand how this very masterpiece will touch the hearts of their descendants for many years to come, including thousands of visitors to Charlock.

  “Where do you think mother will put it?” Merritt slid up next to me. I cautiously peered around to make sure his beloved was not laser beaming me from the other side of the room. Fortunately, she conversed with her back toward us. I sighed quietly. Not that I couldn’t handle her, it was more about not wanting to deal with her.

  “On the landing,” I answered. “She should put it in place of her grandparent’s picture. After all, it’s her house now.”

  “Interesting thought, Miss Katharine. That’s precisely what she said.”

  I returned his glowing smile. Since the boat ride, the Truth or Dare game, and the electric storm, our friendship reached new heights. Merritt had become much more comfortable around me. Though it was always in the shadow of his fiancé’s reach, it made the whole experience more gratifying.

  Later that night, I relaxed on the windowsill watching my favorite pastime play out. The sun would gradually descend, leaving a golden splinter behind and one by one the stars would form above, producing an unparalleled level of peace.

  Sometimes, I’d push my cheek against the chilled glass until it went numb, just to remind myself it was real, and I was still real.

  The faint sound of a door’s hinges opened and closed. My eyes flickered to the vibration that rippled on the window, then drew downward. I pressed closer in time to see a shadow dash from the house towards the garden.

  I ignored the previous two times, but now for a third time, my curiosity got the better of me. I quickly seized my robe and boots, and once assured the hall was clear, I fled down the back stairs. From what I’d seen, I believed Merritt was the culprit. What can be driving him to sneak out late at night and to where? I lit a lantern from the kitchen and stepped out into the cool night air.

  By the time I reached the edge of the gardens, his shadow disappeared. The urgency in his departure gave him a distant lead. Lifting the lantern up, I contemplated my next move. While I became familiar with the paths in the daylight, they appeared different at night. The skeletal branches and black hollows were eerily opposite from the bright, inviting trails in my leisure walks.

  Knowing full well this was none of my business, I hesitated. Do I have the courage to keep looking? Then pursued under intrigue. I suspected a cavalcade of secrets, but was I prepared for the answers if I found them?

  I explored further onto the grounds. Maybe he didn’t go too far. It wasn’t until I reached the river, that I realized my search emerged impractical. With the wind picking up, I feared it would douse my flame and leave me blind. I turned around and right into the face of a man much my senior. His approach came silently. The wrinkles around his mouth deepened in his scowl. With his hooded cloak and tattered appearance, I half expected him to open his mouth and bare sharp teeth. Forgetting how to scream, I sputtered for breath.

  “What yer doin’ here lassie?” He mumbled.

  I glanced around, assessing my ability to jump over the rocks and maneuver through tree branches to get away.

  “I ask’d yer a question.” He lifted his staff up and knocked my lantern to the ground. The light immediately went out.

  “She’s with me.” Merritt slid to my side and held my arm. A gasp tumbled from my lips.

  “Yer supos’d to come lone.” The cranky voice scolded.

  “I know, but she’s a friend.”

  My wide eyes shifted in the moonlight between Merritt and the troll before me. What is going on? Nothing in my curious imagination came to this possibility.

  “Fine,” he grumbled, “keep close.”

  With a tight grasp on my arm, Merritt fell into step behind the man. Though shock stiffened my legs, willing or not, I was going.

  We meandered down a rocky path, and towards a deeper part of the forest. A place I had never been to. Merritt adjusted a knapsack over one shoulder. It sounded heavy from the way it bounced against his back. Twice, he glanced behind, and both times I tried to catch his eye but failed.

  My mind whirled. What have I gotten myself into? What is Merritt involved in? What’s in the bag? Where are we going? Although I trusted Merritt, this mysterious behavior terrified me.

  We walked in silence, deep into the woods. Stepping down a steep ravine, we came to a stop at the shrouded entrance of a cavern. Merritt’s eyes finally met mine for a longer gaze. His hand slid from my arm to my fingers and squeezed.

  “It will be okay,” he whispered. Then followed up with a plea. “Don’t be spooked, and please don’t tell anyone about this.”

  The old man moved some shrubbery away and revealed an opening to which he pointed us through. I pulled my lips together and refused to take a breath, afraid the men could sense my fear.

  We stepped inside.

  The old man’s small lantern provided minimal light, and the moment my eyes fell upon them, I gasped. A man, woman, and child huddled on the dirt floor. Their black skin barely clothed, and they were drenched in sweat and blood. Restrictive iron chains circled their wrists and necks.

  Merritt stepped forward with one hand extended. “Please do not be afraid.” They cowered closer together. The woman and child whimpering while he continued. “We are here to help you.”

  Merritt placed the knapsack he carried onto the floor and opened it. He pulled a wool blanket out. Folded within, were a loaf of bread, some fruit, and a leather canteen. He handed them quickly to the people, then reached for a tool in his bag. When he pulled it out, the woman wailed.

  “Hush!” The old man grumbled. “It’ll cut yer chains.”

  Merritt turned to the black man. “Let me show you.” He motioned for him to offer his hand. He placed it against the ground while Merritt carefully maneuvered the blades aroun
d the iron and pushed until it finally weakened, then broke. The woman’s cries ceased.

  One by one, Merritt released the prisoners from their chains.

  “What can I do?” I offered.

  Merritt pointed to his knapsack. “You’ll find remedial supplies in there.”

  I reached in and located bandages and ointment. I went to the woman first. “May I help you?” She nodded, but terror never left her eyes. She held the boy close as I tenderly rubbed the ointment over her lacerations, both on her wrists and across her arms. The deeper wounds I bound with the bandages then moved onto the child next. He could not have been more than seven. The bones in his chest and shoulders protruded as if he were malnourished. It took everything I had to not weep in front of them.

  Once they were freed and their injuries addressed, Merritt gathered his empty sack and spoke cautiously. “They will be looking for you. You need to stay here for two days. Ration the food and water. I will come for you again at night and take you to the boat that will see to your freedom.”

  The man nodded. The woman reached for me and wrapped her thin arms around my neck. For a few seconds, I envisioned my mother trying to protect me. I touched her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  We stepped outside. The moon, well hidden by frayed clouds, made the night that much darker. The old man followed us out. Merritt turned to him and handed him a small bag of what sounded to be like coins.

  “You understand the significance of being discrete, correct?”

  “Yes, Gilford.” He grumbled and accompanied us through the woods for a spell. I didn’t know he vanished until I glanced behind me.

  “Merritt,” I whispered, unable to hold silent any longer. “What was that? What just happened?”

  He held my hand as we maneuvered the trail in near blackness, although he seemed to have no trouble knowing where to go.

  “They are slaves.”

  “Slaves?” My mind raced. I knew this time-period fell behind on many things, but slaves? I tried hard to recall my studies when Europe ceased to take part in that horrendous practice, but came up blank.