Charlock's Secret

by Leah Moyes

  “Yes, slaves.”

  “It hasn’t ended here?”

  “Legally it has. The Abolition Act of 1833 was ratified to end it, but unfortunately, not everyone complied.” Merritt led me over a stream. “A great deal of human trade still occurs.”

  “If it’s against the law, don’t they have rights? Shouldn't someone protect them? Police, lawyers, politicians?”

  “There are some who continue to fight, but if the slave owner is a person of high standing . . . many a blind eye is turned when wealth is a factor.”

  “But why you, Merritt? Your parents are decent people, wouldn’t they help and join your cause? Why must you sneak around to help?”

  “Katharine, there is much you don’t understand. These people are my parent’s associates, colleagues, and friends. If my involvement were ever disclosed, it would cause great harm. Not only to me but my family as well.”

  Troubled by this discovery, and the realization of what I witnessed, my heart ached, and I fell silent. I had no idea such practices continued to exist in Britain. We reached the garden within minutes.

  At the edge, I pulled Merritt’s hand back to stop him. I knew we could never speak this plainly inside. “What happens when you get married, Merritt?”

  “There will be no amendment.”

  “Margaret would never agree to your helping, and she might think you have taken on a lover if you try to disappear at night.” This being the very thing I assumed at first. “What are you going to do then?”

  “I will not cease, Katharine. You saw their faces and bound their wounds. They are not commodities. If I don’t make an effort, who will?”

  My heart swelled, and tears rested at the corners of my eyes. “That’s why you asked about Uncle Tom’s Cabin and President Hayes.”

  “Yes. I cannot live a life of affluence with no influence.”

  It was precisely the answer I hoped he would give but feared for his future. I didn’t know Margaret well, but well enough to know she’d never agree to this endeavor.

  “Merritt, you’re a good, honorable man.” I reached up and patted his cheek.

  In my research, the books, even Pauline’s stories, nothing anywhere suggested Merritt’s involvement with slaves. He was saving lives, and none of his descendants even knew about it.

  We said our goodbyes before we entered the back door. In fact, Merritt waited until I climbed the stairs before he moved. Once, I was comfortably back in bed, I laid awake thinking about all that happened tonight. Had I been given a thousand guesses why he snuck out at night, I would have never considered this.

  The images of the frightened family continued to haunt me in the darkness of my room. As traumatic as my challenges have been, it was in no comparison to what I’d seen. Human beings, chained and whipped, forced to labor at the hands of another, and fleeing for their very lives. Merritt’s actions tonight and presumably previous nights showed more morality and compassion than anyone I have ever met, present-day included.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  October 1878

  “Katharinnnne,” Lizzy moaned, lingering on the “n” in my name as long as she could while she flung her petite frame across a settee. “I tire of studies today.” She whined to my laugh. We’d only started a short two hours ago. “Let's make off and do something amusing!” She pressed her nose against the window. “It grieves me to the soul to wither inside with our first day of sunshine in three days!” She baited me, full well knowing my love for the outdoors.

  Typical teenager, I thought. Funny how, centuries apart, youthful tactics never change. And what came as even more of a surprise was the adult, almost parent role I slipped into as I taught these girls each day. Not only academically, but in some ways, I helped develop them into well-rounded young women as well.

  Since my talk with Mrs. Gilford a couple of weeks ago, she had dropped in unannounced more often, but seemed pleased with what she saw. However, she herself appeared to grow weaker and paler by the day. I was sure she’d been infected by now. Yet as contagious as diphtheria was rumored to be, no one else showed any signs of similar symptoms. I wondered if they had misdiagnosed her. A common malady with medical care, as primeval as it was. Regardless, it was merely a matter of time. The knowledge I held about her future continued to weigh heavily.

  This made me think of my own parents often. When I went away to college, I learned to value their influence, support, and love a lot more. Even though I never doubted how they felt about me, I took it for granted as all kids do, but now it surfaced much clearer. Here, I was in a situation where I couldn’t pick up a phone and simply call home, and on more than one occasion, could’ve used advice or a shoulder to cry on.

  I could only imagine what they must think after all this time has passed. Early October now, with no contact for four months. I wondered if they believed the worst or even knew what to believe Mom wouldn’t give up until she had answers. Even with the help of Scotland Yard or the US Embassy, they would never find me. How could they? I couldn’t find me either.

  “Helloooo . . .” Lizzy moved to my face and pushed her nose directly next to mine. “Did you hear me?” She apparently repeated herself.

  “What?” I asked with a hurried shake of my head. “Forgive me, what did you say?”

  “I’m the one who’s seeking diversion and you . . .” she laughed, “are the one who is wool-gathering.” She grabbed my hand and gently set the book I held down on top of the desk. She then snatched Abby's hand with her free one and pulled us not so reluctantly out of the house and onto the grounds.

  “Lizzy,” I tried to protest. “I’m supposed to be teaching you, that is what your parents hired me for.” I still allowed her to drag me in the general direction of a large patch of wildflowers near the edge of the woods. Glancing into the trees, I had not forgotten the last time I entered. It was the night with Merritt, the cranky old hermit, and the slaves. The experience had imprinted in my soul.

  “You are teaching me . . . horticulture today,” she laughed again. Then let go of us and spun carelessly around in the sunshine until she fell dizzy to the earth. Giggling, Abby, and I laid next to her in the pale stalks that swayed for miles. Now, this had to be heaven. How could you not fall in love with this place, with this family or with this life? Okay, so I may not be a perfect fit considering I royally bombed the ball, and I can be excessively awkward in the social settings, but Lizzy, Abby, and Merritt seemed to love me for who I am and not for what I can offer them. It felt good, and as a light breeze caressed my cheeks, I recognized my transformation. I no longer experienced the twinge of anger, hatred, or revenge. Could I possibly be starting to heal?

  Everything at Charlock was perfect. Except for the habitually gloomy skies and, of course, the arrival of the “dark lord”. So, I watched a lot of science-fiction when I was younger, but I bet Margaret would have striking similarities to an evil emperor had she been wearing a hooded cloak as well. That image brought a wide smile to my already spirited grin.

  As I stretched and relaxed, the sun beat down wonderfully for an autumn day. Unusually warm for October, it reminded me of Arizona. There are those who would say the southwest was too hot or brown for them, and aside from the triple digits in the summer, it became my oxygen. I loved to go outside of a heavily air-conditioned restaurant and stand there long enough to feel the direct heat of the sun thaw me. The temperature would never reach that high here, but a day like today could not go unnoticed.

  Daydreaming, I laid on the ground, soaking up what seemed to be a flawless moment when the flutter of a butterfly’s wing tickled my arm. Fascinated with the spontaneous visit from this beautiful creature, I watched with delight as the bright blue insect danced around my head, seemingly unafraid. Then suddenly fled to the hum of an unusual vibration.

  I froze.

  Initially, I didn’t recognize it as the sound of heavy hooves connecting with the ground until the thump grew louder and closer, and the steady pounding amplified against
the back of my head.

  Startled, I launched my body forward and thrust my face against my knees, instinctively covering my head with my arms. The tall grass kept me well hidden, until my catapult alerted the approaching horses.

  The first horse leaped backward with a deafening squeal, terrified from my sudden appearance. His front hooves dramatically flew in the air as he tossed his rider violently to the ground. The second horse screeched to a stop, then trotted restlessly in circles, but the rider remained intact.

  “For heaven’s sake!” Came the shriek from the very “vice” I’d been thinking of. Her screaming never ceased as her horse paced uneasily. “What wild fit of folly provoked you?” Her tone scaling an octave higher than what I thought was humanly possible.

  My mind blurred with confusion as I attempted to sort things out. If Margaret is the rider on the second horse . . . who is on the first? Oh No!

  I scrambled up to find Merritt flat on his back and motionless. Rushing to his side, I made a quick assessment. His situation appeared dire. I leaned in, placing my ear over his mouth, waiting for breath. Nothing!

  One of my mother’s requirements, when I turned thirteen and eager to babysit my cousins, was to take a course in First Aid/CPR. I maintained it through the years and only used it once at a fraternity party, although I regretted it afterward being that the guy I “saved” threw up all over me once he regained consciousness.

  I untied his sash and checked for a pulse on his neck, then his wrist. Nothing! My own chest rose and fell in fear. What if it’s too late? What if he’s already dead? I shook my head angrily, knowing these next few minutes would be the most critical.

  “Margaret! Go get help!” I shouted as she circled around me. She showed no intention of getting down from her horse and continued to scream nonsense in the most aggravating tone you can imagine. I repeated myself, only louder, “Merritt needs help! Go!”

  By this time, Lizzy and Abby, who had wandered off towards the river while I daydreamed, rushed back upon hearing the horrible commotion. They both cried hysterically at Merritt’s side.

  “Merritt! Wake up!” Lizzy tried to shake him awake.

  I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Please, Lizzy, go to the house and get help.” I forced my voice to stay even as I spoke, “Abby, go with your sister.”

  I swiftly unbuttoned his shirt; afraid the extra layer of material might make it difficult for me to locate the correct spot. Margaret’s incessant screams amplified somewhere behind me, but I focused only on Merritt. I cupped his neck in my hands and moved his chin upwards to open his airway. Bending over, I gave him the first of two breaths.

  The moment my lips covered his, my thoughts turned only to save him. Far from a romantic kiss, it was more like sucking on the entire mouth to force air in, but it was the appearance that escalated everything.

  At that very instant, Margaret launched off her perch and landed with a thud at his side. “Get away from him!” She shrieked and dove forward to push me out of the way.

  “Margaret! He’s not breathing!” I pleaded, “I need to help him!”

  “Don’t touch him!” She seethed. Her eyes filled with vicious rage. She aggressively maneuvered her body between us and to keep me at a distance, dug her long fingernails deep into my hands.

  “You don’t understand. We have very little time.” I stared hard, but she didn’t budge. I couldn’t wait any longer. It had been over a minute since I gave the first rescue breaths. If any more time passed, Merritt’s life was in jeopardy.

  I pushed forward, but Margaret pushed back. My fist curled and popped her eye. I think it stunned me as much as it did her, only I enjoyed it more. She fell forcefully to her backside. Her mouth wide open as her trembling hands massaged the wound.

  I leaned forward to resume the rescue breaths. I located the point on his rib cage, where I began the flat handed compressions. I pumped downward, putting as much weight on the spot as I could. A slight cracking sound exploded. I knew that broken ribs could be part of the effort but continued.

  Two more breaths.

  Margaret inched toward me again. I shot her a brief look to send the message that a second round of blows would come if she continued. She froze in place.

  I counted desperately upwards with each compression, “thirteen—fourteen—fifteen . . . come on Merritt!” I cried through exasperated breaths.

  The elder Mr. Gilford appeared at full speed in my peripheral vision. Two men accompanied him. I ignored the astonished audience that approached and blew two more breaths into Merritt’s lungs before I started another set of compressions. Halfway through, he gasped, choked, and heaved as the small group gathered around. To say they were the least bit shocked as they tried to grasp what they had or hadn’t seen, is an understatement. I turned him to his side as he vomited. Then backed up, watching, and waiting for Merritt’s color to restore. It was slightly paler, but an enormous improvement over the chalky blue that first appeared.

  Mr. Gilford leaned down and touched his face, then rolled him to his back as each gentleman reached for a limb to carry him back to the house. He moaned in pain, but at least, for now, a sound transpired. Margaret didn’t even look at me as she trailed behind them. Her hand still nursed the bump that would soon turn into a deep blue souvenir.

  Not one word of thanks was uttered. Exhausted, I fell back to the ground. My arms lay limp across my torso, not an ounce of energy remained. The sweat on my cheeks now mixed with a fresh collection of tears. Merritt, I almost lost Merritt! The reality of those words haunted me.

  Sniffling, I faced the clear blue sky above and the same radiant sunshine I worshipped before this tragedy began. Only now, instead of the joy I felt, a profound emptiness emerged and, once again, I felt the tender sting of sadness strike.

  By the time I gathered the strength to go back to the house, the sun had dipped low behind the trees. Upon my entry, no sound could be heard. That was alarming, considering the numbers that occupy or work at the manor.

  Has Merritt died? The very thought of losing someone else who meant so much to me loomed unbearably. What have I done? Did I change history once more? Did I finish the Gilford name in one fail swoop of foolishness? My stomach churned violently as I somehow found my way to my room. I wished profusely that today was the day I could wake up or return to reality. I needed whatever kept me here to finally release its captive claws.

  After washing my face, a bold knock resonated on my bedroom door. The pounding continued with persistence until I opened it. Lifting my candle cautiously, it cast a shadow across the face of the elder Mr. Gilford. His expression stricken in a manner I’d never seen before.

  “Is . . .” I could barely choke out the words. “Is Merritt alive?”

  He inhaled. “Yes.” Then cleared his throat as he continued, “my personal physician has been attending him. He will survive, but his injuries are extensive.”

  “Oh, my,” relief filled my soul that Merritt had survived, though Mr. Gilford’s behavior suggested he was not finished.

  He tugged on the hem of his jacket and exhaled loudly. “I’m disappointed in you, Miss Shelton.” My jaw plunged in astonishment as he harshly carried on, “Miss Abbott recounted the events that occurred prior to my arrival.”

  Miss Abbott? Who’s Miss Abbott? My forehead creased.

  “How could you intentionally harm Merritt after all we have afforded you?”

  “What?” I cried aloud. My face heated with confusion.

  “I am quite anguished over the matter. You deliberately prevented her from assisting him. Then put your hands upon her violently.” His eyebrows met in the middle. Every part of his face curled in anger. “You have caused her great harm and placed Merritt’s life in grave danger.”

  My eyes went wide. Miss Abbott is Margaret?

  My hand rubbed my forehead. That explains why Merritt didn’t say her last name when he introduced her to me at the ball. She’s the arrangement that Josiah referred to . . . and why he threa
tened me. It all makes sense now!

  “Mr. Gilford,” I defended forcefully, “I would never harm Merritt! I tried to—” My brashness caused him to pull backward, but he ignored my outburst and cut me off.

  “That is quite enough!”

  As I waited for him to continue, I glanced down at the chicken scratches that bared dried blood on the back of my hands. Margaret’s efforts to stop me from saving his son resulted in my own considerable damage. I had no regrets. If I hadn’t hit her to get her out of the way, he really would be dead.

  Mr. Gilford spoke his next words, meticulously, “We hired you to teach, not to play. I regret to inform you that you are relieved of your duties straightaway and must resign from this house by morning. I have already sent word to the agency for a swift replacement.”

  I stared, as if this was a cruel joke, I could hardly comprehend what I heard.

  “Here are your wages owed.” He handed me a handful of coins. “You may claim one dress. Considering you possessed nothing when you arrived, this is a generous accord. You are henceforth cut off from this manor never to return.”

  My eyes burned hot with anger, and my shoulders wilted in defeat as he turned and walked away. I just saved his son’s life, and that was the thanks I got? I slammed the door and crumpled to the floor. If I hated that woman before, I could not describe the absolute loathing I felt building inside of me. If I had the strength, I would have torn through the house and strangled her on sight without an ounce of regret.

  What am I going to do now? With nothing left to lose, no family, no support, and no knowledge of how to return to the future, I hit rock bottom.

  I sat motionless against the door. What in the world did I do to deserve such a sentence of everlasting hell? I should’ve listened to Kelly; I should’ve listened to my mom! Where am I going to go?

  Whether or not I had an education, I was now homeless. Obviously, not welcome back here and alone to face the unknown. I knew very little about the country or the people, but one thing was certain about nineteenth-century England . . . treatment of single, penniless women was beyond dismal, it was a death sentence.