Charlock's Secret

by Leah Moyes

  “I—I did, thank you.”

  Not a bad start for my return, although he looked at me funny when I asked if it was okay for me to ride up front with him versus the back of the Lincoln. That was until I showed him the white barf bag I gripped tightly in my hands, then he was most happy to accommodate.

  When we rounded the final corner and Charlock came into full view, a smile stretched across my face. I felt the same way I had when invited back for dinner that one last night with Merritt and the girls. It felt like a second home to me. Although I had not forgotten the reason for my return and that I must not allow my emotions to go too far. It was, of course, in the process of sadly being abandoned by the last remaining male Gilford descendant.

  In an instant, Gretchen met me at the door.

  “Oh, Miss, we’re pleased you’ve returned.”

  I hugged her happily and returned the sentiments. Reaching for her hand, I placed a small bronze Statue of Liberty in it. “If you ever go to New York, you’re welcome to stay with my family. We’d love to have you.”

  Gretchen gripped the small souvenir and giggled. “Maybe someday.”

  While she eagerly helped me get my things to my room, she babbled more than ever. I caught only some of what she said, most notably the part where she mentioned Mr. Gilford was here the whole time.

  “Mr. Gilford . . . Trenton, Mr. Gilford?” I questioned, surprised. “He never left the house the entire time?”

  “No, Miss.”

  “Why not?”

  “I'm not sure.” Gretchen stopped after she pulled the covers back on the bed. “It’s strange, he was all over the house, poking in cupboards, drawers, spent a lot of time in the bedchambers and gardens too.”

  “Well, it is his house still,” I said as I hung my clothes up. “Maybe he wants to make sure he didn't overlook some hidden treasure somewhere before he sold the place.”

  “He isn't—”

  “Gretchen.” Trenton stood in the doorway. I turned his direction, embarrassed, hoping he hadn’t heard my last comment. He continued, “thank you for helping Kat get settled in. She’s probably tired and wants to rest before dinner.” He smiled like before I told him my secret. I tilted my head in confusion. He wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I didn't even think he owned a pair. I tried not to make my scan obvious, but they seemed to fit him well. Gretchen excused herself with another sly giggle.

  “How was your flight?”

  My mouth fell partway open. “I, uh, it was long.” I blinked. “Thank you for the driver, I wasn't expecting that.”

  “No trouble at all.” He still grinned. “I would’ve done that for you on the way out, had you let me.”

  “Y—you look different.” I stuttered.

  “Good or bad?” His smile deflated halfway.

  “Well, good . . . I don't think you’ve ever looked bad—” I can't believe I just said that. “I mean you seem . . . different before I left and now you, uh,” I couldn’t get a logical sentence out.

  “Yes . . . definitely different.” The grin on his face led me to believe he found my response amusing.

  “I thought you had urgent business in London while I was away. Gretchen said you were here the whole time. Did something go wrong?” I stepped towards him. “I wouldn't have left had I known you had to stay and take care of things yourself.”

  He laughed. His hand gently motioned up and down. “Relax, everything went fine, don’t stress about it.”

  Relax? Don’t stress? My face went blank. I know I’d only been gone two weeks, but something happened, something changed. I wiped my forehead and tried to make sense of our conversation.

  His hand moved to my shoulder, and he tenderly squeezed. “We can talk over dinner. I have much to tell you. Get some rest, and please join me at the entry hall at 7 o’clock.”

  You would think I could’ve slept wonderfully back in this bed, but every time I tried to fall asleep, I was thinking! Thinking about Charlock Manor, the Gilford family, dinner, and him! Thinking about what he wanted to tell me, thinking about what might’ve happened that caused him to change so much in such a short time. Thinking about what to wear . . .

  Exhausted and wound up at the same time, I surrendered and took a long hot bath instead. Standing over the choices laid out from my suitcase, I selected an aqua-colored summer dress. The short-hemmed skirt with thick straps had never been worn before. Though I purchased it in Arizona before the job, I’d never found a reason to wear the dress . . . until now. A pair of simple beige heels complemented it perfectly. Glancing at my reflection, my mind continued to whirl. Why am I so concerned about my appearance? It’s only dinner, right? Placing a barrette to hold back my bangs, I let my hair fall loosely to my shoulders. Brushing a slight amount of mascara on my already jet-black eyelashes, and a thin layer of gloss across my lips, I took one last look in the mirror and headed out, both pleased and anxious at the same time.

  When I reached the foyer, Trenton entered from the library and met me with a smile. He wore a tan button-up shirt, dinner jacket and slacks, but no tie. The first couple buttons on his shirt were loose, revealing his neck. I fought to bring my eyes back to his face.

  “You look lovely.” He spoke so casually, it erased my awkwardness. “Thank you for joining me.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, and you don’t look so bad yourself.” My response came too quickly. I pressed my disobedient lips together and cursed myself silently. Do not let his charm fool you into forgetting what happened before you left! I stiffened.

  Trenton extended his arm and waited. I studied it and then analyzed him. His expression showed nothing but kindness. I had no reason to believe his intentions were insincere. I placed my arm through his as he led me towards the back and onto the veranda. Once outside, a lone table was decorated elegantly, lit only by candlelight and deeply romantic. I halted quickly.

  Trenton turned my direction. “Is there a problem?”

  I remained silent. Many thoughts ran madly through my head at that very moment. Why is he being so nice? Doesn’t he remember our last conversation? I practically recited it by heart now, having played it over and over in my head in New York. And why so romantic? I thought something sparked between us before, but it was . . . well I'm not sure what it was. Maybe imagined like the rest of my experience here at Charlock.

  “Kat?”

  “Um,” I stammered, “I'm not sure if this is a good idea.”

  One eyebrow arched. “It's only dinner,” he whispered.

  “Dinner?” I questioned, speaking louder than expected. “Look at you! And the table . . . candles . . . ”

  “Me?” His fingers rested against his chest.

  My eyelashes fluttered, and I quickly brought my eyes back to his. “Yes.” And waved my free hand up and down his torso. “This casual, sexy look!”

  He smiled wider, “you approve?”

  “No, well yes, but why? I don't get it. I don’t understand.”

  “I'm sorry.” The gentleness in his voice was not mistaken. “I’m not—um, this is—” He stammered, then took a long sigh. “I know my actions are confusing and I can be excessive at times . . .”

  My eyes lifted to his confession.

  He stared hard. “I have some excellent news and wanted to share it with you. This is a celebration dinner . . . nothing more.”

  I studied him carefully. Underneath his relaxed bangs, his emerald eyes glowed, prompting a certain truthfulness, and while I was no mind reader, he appeared to be sincere.

  I pulled my lips tight then nodded, “dinner it is.”

  He led me the remaining distance in silence and pulled out my chair for me. A steady stream of delicacies complemented the breathtaking china, silver, and crystal that adorned the table. The embellishment came as a welcomed distraction since I struggled to start a conversation with this most attractive man who sat across from me. No doubt, the chilly, heartless man I’d been introduced to five months ago, had vanished, but did I know who the
real Trenton Gilford was?

  It wasn’t until after the salad and partway through our main course, Trenton spoke up. “I’m glad you came back.” A tender piece of lamb dangled on his fork as he continued, “I was concerned you wouldn't.”

  I set my glass down without taking a sip, “Don’t you remember what happened?”

  His eyes fell to his plate.

  “We didn’t exactly have a positive farewell after I . . .” I couldn’t say the words, afraid the very conversation about time travel would spoil the evening, not to mention revive my humiliation.

  “Yes, Kat, I remember. Can you forgive me for the way I treated you?” His eyes peered back up to mine. His tone only expelled a softness I craved. “I haven't been the best, well . . . friend to you.”

  I wiped my mouth with my linen napkin and placed it back on my lap while I contemplated a response. “I considered staying in the states.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Not necessarily because of you, or our differences, but mostly because I recognized the importance of family and how much I miss them. I don't want to be away like I’ve been in the past.”

  Trenton’s countenance dropped. I watched curiously as he seemed to dwell on my words. “I’ve never felt that longing you speak of. Since I can remember, others raised me. A nurse, governess, or nuns at my boarding school. When I attended university, I avoided coming home for the holidays. I don’t know my parents all that well.”

  “That breaks my heart,” I whispered. “Who—who do you have? Who do you share your joys, sadness, or accomplishments with?”

  He smiled halfway. “I’m not alone, Kat. I have some of the most loyal friends a man can have. I consider them to be more like my family.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to your parents?”

  He seemed to be calculating it in his head. “A year, at least.”

  “You should call them.”

  He bit his bottom lip. “Yes, you’re right. I guess it’s never too late.”

  “It can be.” I choked.

  Trenton’s eyes fell apologetic. “Yes . . .it can. I’m sorry.” He gazed out across the lowly lit gardens.

  “I know business is important to you.” I let my guard down and relaxed in the conversation. It was refreshing to speak openly again. “But it should never be more important than family. Though you know little of your immediate family, there is a legacy of Gilfords before them. You’re so blessed to have such a rich history.”

  “I know.” He nodded. “That's part of the reason I didn't leave. For the first time, I canceled all of my meetings for those two weeks you were gone. It was frightening at first.”

  I chuckled at his confession, but it probably was the most alarming thing he’d ever done.

  “I didn’t know what to do.” He continued, “then when I allowed myself to become part of something bigger—the house, the grounds—it felt good, strange but good.”

  “How?” Intrigued, I leaned forward.

  The energy that he projected increased by the second. He met my lean and narrowed the gap. The green in his eyes lit up as I’d never seen before. “That's the thing, Kat.” He shook his head. “It's this place. I left here when I was eight. I haven't spent a decent amount of time here ever, until now. I—I’ve been entranced.” His exhale warmed my skin. “There is something about this place. Something . . . ”

  “Magical?” I said with a grin. Finally, Trenton Gilford is smitten by Charlock’s charm.

  “Yes, magical.” He returned my smile.

  “I'm sorry it took you this long to figure that out . . .” My lips pulled into a frown. “Now that it's too late with the sale and all.”

  He held his finger up as if he wanted me to wait and pulled something out from under the table. I recognized the cover immediately—Merritt's journal.

  “I canceled the sale!” He slipped in slyly. My eyes were focused on the book, but my mind repeated the words over and over. “Canceled the sale . . . canceled the sale”.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Trenton moved swiftly past his comment. It appeared to be the least important news he wanted to share.

  “I want you to read this.” He announced eagerly. “There are several pages bookmarked.” He pointed out the small torn pieces of paper holding their spots. I had wanted to get my hands on this since the moment he showed it to me in the library, but I hadn't seen it anywhere since.

  “Right now?” I asked, hoping his answer would be yes. He nodded. I grasped it gently and pressed it to my nose. Longing to smell even the slightest bit of Merritt on it, I inhaled gingerly, but only an old leather scent surfaced. I opened it to the first marked page . . .

  25 June 1878,

  The girls have a new governess. Her name is Katharine, she is American and a tad peculiar. She came about in a highly extraordinary way, including an alarming fall down the stairs. The girls adore her, and I am humored by her. She is forward with her thoughts and it offends some, but I find this fascinating. Her most recent conjecture occurred after church today with Josiah Abbott. While I am bound by the agreement my father made for his sister’s hand, I do not have to tolerate his insinuating implications. It was Katharine who wittingly put him in his place, then quickly dismissed him. There is something about her I am drawn to and I believe this may be the beginning of a pleasing friendship.

  26 July 1878

  I taught Abby how to play cricket this afternoon, contrary to what some may believe to be a boisterous discourse and should not be commonplace conduct for any woman. Impropriety not something I would allow to infiltrate my responsibilities, but it is merely a game! Clear conception of the argument would attest that social opportunities involving sports can only enhance communal leisure and pleasure for all . . . men and women alike. Besides, she has a most suitable bowling arm. Afterward, I spoke briefly with Miss Katharine on the veranda. She seemed weighted in thought but elevated to delight at the foreknowledge of the upcoming ball. On the outside, Miss Katharine seems coarse and uncouth, but as I labor for the truth, I see a cloaked version of vulnerability and sincerity well-guarded. It will be my challenge to ascertain her true character.

  23 August 1878,

  Mum is in her element. The preparation for this year's ball is above remarkable.

  Naturally, it will be the grandest event in the county once again. However, the most astounding affair occurred yesterday when Miss Katharine arranged for the four of us to retire from our labor momentarily and picnic in the country. It had been ages since we had that much time to relax and converse. Once mum finally agreed to unwind, it was most enjoyable. The girls shared what they are learning in their studies and mum was impressed with their increasing knowledge. I surprised them all when I presented the engagement ring, I plan to present to Margaret the night of the ball. It's a stunning jewel, but pales in comparison to Miss Abbott's beauty.

  My upper lip curled.

  06 September 1878,

  The Ball was an exceptional success . . . for the most part. Announcing the engagement was a highlight of the evening. Miss Abbott comes from a well-positioned family and a dowry of 2,000 annual pounds. My father has blessed me with this arrangement and while she highly favors herself around others, I believe it is simply her upbringing in wealth that could be faulted for that. I am confident that she will find a need for selfless service amongst the poor, especially the more time she spends with mum and her many charities. I know in time I will find reason to love her. She knows I do not love her, and I believe she does not love me either, but we are both bound by honor and duty and will follow through as required.

  Unfortunately. I am responsible for the only black mark of the night. I had relieved Elizabeth from her intentions of teaching Miss Katharine how to dance. How someone of her countenance has lacked this ability until now is incomprehensible, but truth. I only meant to remedy the situation. It was, nonetheless, an unparalleled feeling of being near this compelling woman shortly before I became betrothed. While I never intended more than f
riendship, she is most amiable, and will no doubt enter her own arrangement the moment she allows herself to. As we were dancing, she mentioned the name Johnna. A name I had forced out of my memory several years ago. I could barely control my astonishment; much less my temper and I frightened her to tears. I am profoundly ashamed for my actions and while I suggested and attempted to meet with her to reconcile after supper tonight, Miss Abbott kept my attention entirely focused her direction until the moment we bid goodnight. I will not rest until I have rectified this wrong, but I sense a small bit of angst from Miss Abbott each time I mention the name Katharine, therefore, as to not upset my affianced, I will have to resolve this unpleasant development at a later time.

  “So that is what happened . . .”

  I read silently, but when I commented aloud, Trenton's face lit up with curiosity. I couldn't pull my eyes from the pages to explain. He would have to wait.

  10 September 1878,

  I experienced the most enjoyable leisure today with Miss Katharine at the river. Lizzy had located me forthwith in a panic over Miss Katharine’s sudden departure from class. I was at liberty to search her whereabouts and found her forlorn in the woods. She is a woman of mystery. Her lips speak plainly, but her eyes reveal a deeper torment. She is suffering. I convinced her to join me on the water. It was most peaceful for us both. She is quite witty and strange, an unusual mix of personality, but unquestionably delightful. She taught me a game called, “Truth or Dare” one I had not been acquainted with but found . . . most agreeable. I was obliged to play but wound up sharing a dark secret. An enigma I have not yet revealed to even my wife to be. Yet I persevered and returned the favor. Miss Katharine in the most pleasing manner played a unique composition on the pianoforte this evening. I had not heard this arrangement before, but it was captivating, nonetheless. I do however fear retaliation; it seems this game is unremitting.