Corner Of The Housetop: Buried Secrets

by Leen Elle

  Looks like Mrs. Worthington is getting to her, too, he thought, swallowing the last of his roll. Poor thing. After being use to someone sweet like Catherine, it must be hard working for a wench like her.

  "Jonathan sent me for Catherine's lunch. Is it ready?"

  "Yes, sir." Turning away from her rolls, Atty put several covered plates along with a fresh roll and a glass of milk on a large tray and held it out to him.

  "Thanks."

  "Thank you, sir."

  As Derek walked up the stairs he heard the sharp clicking of Mrs. Worthington's shoes on the hard floor above. He stopped, listening for her to pass before entering the hall. Certainly if he'd been ordered inside to get something for Catherine she couldn't get mad at him; but he wasn't going to take a chance. When the steps disappeared back up the hall, he slipped out the door and hurried around to the porch. He was glad to see that Jonathan was gone.

  "Thank you ever so much," Catherine said as he set her tray on the bench beside her. Somehow when she said, "ever so much," it wasn't annoying like it was when Aniline Clayton said it.

  "You're welcome. The roll is still hot. Just came out of the oven."

  "It smells wonderful."

  As much as Derek knew he should have gone back to picking strawberries, he managed to push the guilty voice away and leaned against the railing, chatting with Catherine as she ate. She looked much better. Her face was smoother and her eyes were bright. She seemed almost back to her old self. If it weren't for the dark circles under her eyes and the disheveled state of her hair, Derek would have sworn she wasn't sick at all.

  Before he knew what was happening, Derek found himself telling her about nearly dropping the platform of junk on Blueberry. "I missed him by a mile," he explained at the concern in her eyes," but Devon was so angry. He was literally hopping mad."

  Laughing, Catherine looked even more like herself. "I haven't seen him very much. Just once or twice out the window."

  "He's a good, old guy. A little up-tight, but I like him."

  "He's the one you're apprenticing with, right?"

  Caught off guard at being called an apprentice, Derek decided it was a much more impressive title than "servant," and agreed with her. He was, after all, learning how to take care of horses. He was as good as an apprentice. Turning the conversation away from himself, he asked, "Do you ride?"

  "I like to, but I never get much of a chance. Jonathan and I don't own a horse of our own since we live right in the city, but our neighbors have a farm with stables a few miles south. I like going out to it with Emma."

  "Does your family own a farm, too?"

  "Oh, no! The anticipation of seeing my parents here is almost over-whelming. I don't think they've ever left New York except for when we lived in Richmond."

  "You're from New York?"

  Nodding, Catherine said, "I was raised there. We moved so I could go to the same school mother had. She didn't want me to be so far away, though. As soon as I finished, they moved back home."

  "So you and Jonathan met in school?"

  Laughing a little, she said, "We met out of school, actually. It was the weekend and I was having lunch with my friend, Emma. He was away from his school with a couple of his friends. He still claims they only stopped to talk to us because Arthur Merchant wanted to talk to Em. I think Jonathan just wanted to talk to me but was too shy to come over by himself." She was smiling warmly, her eyes twinkling with the fond memory.

  Jonathan, shy? It didn't seem to fit in Derek's mind.

  "Of course, when they were trying to sneak back into school they were caught, so I didn't see him for the longest time afterwards. It was at least six months because he was restricted from leaving the grounds for two months and then it was just time to start the winter holidays."

  "Sounds like he got into a lot of trouble at school."

  "I don't know. But his school was our brother institution and you could look down from the top floor classrooms and see into their director's office. Jonathan was in there more than once when I happened to glance down during lessons."

  Derek chuckled a little, trying to imagine someone lecturing Jonathan. He would pay to see something like that. "I'm sure Mrs. Worthington can't know about him getting into any trouble. She thinks he's perfect."

  Catherine laughed again. "So does my mother! But it makes her feel better to think I married the only good man left in the world, so I don't tell her the truth. She'll like seeing him again."

  "Are you going to visit them?"

  "No. Actually, they're coming here for a visit. With my brother and sister. Jonathan is just sending the reply letter to let them know he'll meet them when they get off the train."

  Derek was very surprised at the news. Tipping his head, crossing his arms over his chest, he asked, "When are they getting here?"

  "Not for another five days. I can hardly wait. I haven't seen them since our wedding."

  After thinking about those terrible weeks, he said, "I don't remember meeting them there."

  "Really? I'm surprised Jonathan didn't introduce you."

  I'm not. I'm surprised he wanted me there at all.

  "Have you been standing there all this time?"

  Looking over, Derek saw Beth pushing the handcart of strawberry-filled crate tops across the dirt drive. Oh no. He dropped his arms and stood up straight. "Sorry! I was just "

  "Don't bother. Just get down here and help me with these."

  "All right." Turning back to Catherine, he said, "It was good talking with you. Glad you're feeling better," before running down the steps and taking over pushing the heavy cart. He glanced over his shoulder as he rounded the corner and caught a smile on Catherine's face.

  Smiling to himself, he waited by the door for Beth to get Atty. When they were both back, he handed the strawberry trays off to them so they could bring them down to the kitchen.

  When all the berries were downstairs, Beth came back up and wiped out the handcart quickly. "I hope you had a wonderful conversation with Missus Worthington."

  Derek almost winced. He hating hearing Catherine called that. "Yes, I did."

  "Good. I'm glad it was worth it because we ate your share of lunch and I'm not putting together a special plate just for you. You can eat at dinner. And put that away." She pushed the cart towards him, then she went inside and closed the door.

  Though he couldn't blame her for being angry, he also couldn't be bothered with it. She was right. His conversation with Catherine had been worth it. Very much so. He felt like he could live off of nothing by Catherine; food and sleep seemed of very little importance when he thought of her smile.

  Laughing at himself as he pushed cart across the lawn, he said, "You're in a bad way, my friend." As he entered the stable a minute later, he expected to run into Devon, hopping mad again.

  Instead, the man was just pouring food into the horses' troughs. "Good lunch, boy?" he asked.

  "I didn't end up eating," he answered unaffectedly.

  "I'm sure."

  "Sorry I didn't come back. Jonathan started ordering me around, making me get Miss Catherine a drink, and then her lunch.…" He let his voice trail off, hoping it sounded like it must have a taken a very long time.

  "Hmm," was all he said as he walked down and got the lead off the wall. Devon started hooking it to Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's bridle.

  "I'll take her out."

  "I'm already doin' it."

  Left standing by himself, Derek couldn't decide what to do. He couldn't see a way to make it up to them: Devon was stubborn and Beth was in the house. Sighing, he climbed up to the loft and sat on his bed. Glancing down, he noticed huge, red stains from kneeling on strawberries on the knees of his pants. Had they been there the whole time he was talking to Catherine? Humiliation washed over him.

  She must think I'm such a kid, he thought with a groan. If there was anything that could make him feel worse than having left Devon and Beth to do all that work alone, it was thinking that he'd made a fool of
himself in front of the most beautiful woman in the world.

  As he sat there in the soft warmth of the early summer day, the voice from his dream came back to him. It was a quiet, soft voice. The girl from the painting's voice. She was wearing apple blossoms in her braided hair and her dress was white as snow. He remembered how she'd run ahead of him, calling back through the tall grass, "Find me. Come and find me." She'd laughed. She wasn't scared by the forest or the night sounds. She just sort of laughed and called to him.

  "Derek, come and find me."

  Derek shook his head. It was just a weird dream. A very weird dream, but only a dream, nonetheless.

  Taking his Bible, and his paper and pencil out of his chest, Derek flipped his book open to some page in the middle and started copying down the first verse his eyes landed on.

  Chapter Ten

  "Boy!"

  "What!" Derek made no pretenses at politeness. This had to be the millionth time Devon had yelled at him.

  Shuffling over, his feet scuffing the dirt on the ground, the old man glared up at Derek through squinted eyes. His leathery face was contorted in thought as if he'd forgotten what exactly he'd wanted in the first place. "When you're done with that you need to go up the house. Got cleaning Mrs. Worthington wants you to do."

  With a sigh, Derek went back to hammering in the new latch on the corral gate. With the beginning of summer came the usual maintenance; and with the imminent visit of the Smithfield's came extra chores and spotless detailing of every inch of the plantation house and grounds. It was only the second day after Jonathan sent the return letter and Mrs. Worthington was already acting as if Catherine's family would be arriving in minutes.

  As he went to put the hammer away, Derek outlined what he'd done in the past few days: changed the rusted hardware on all the buildings, trimmed the hedges back (again), clipped the grass, painted the shed, cleaned out the carriage house and detailed the carriage and wagon, oiled all the hinges in all the buildings (even the ones that weren't squeaking), cleaned out the rest of the loft, weeded the gardens and transplanted bushes from the back garden to the side of the house and the area by the pond.

  "What else can she possibly have for me to do?" he wondered, kicking his shoes off by the side door and walking through the hall, into the sitting room. "You wanted me, Mrs. Worthington?"

  "Yes. There's washing to be done in the kitchen. You'll help Beth with that today. And I want the fields tidied. Especially around the stables and up through the riding paths."

  "Yes, ma'am." Looking away from Mrs. Worthington, Derek caught Jonathan's eye. He was staring at the boy, his lips drawn in a frown. "Was there something you wanted me to do?" he asked, trying his hardest not to sound too annoyed.

  Jonathan stared for a moment longer before saying, "No."

  Glancing at Mrs. Worthington once more before leaving, Derek saw an uncharacteristically flustered old woman. Her eyes were round and her mouth, usually set in a grim line, hung open slightly. She was looking at Jonathan as if he'd mutated into some hideous creature before her very eyes and was beginning to slowly devour her favorite house plant.

  Wonder what she's got into her head now, he thought, walking down the hall to the kitchen stairs. Doubtlessly, he would hear all about it from her later when she'd gotten tired of keeping her obvious anger to herself.

  "Beth?"

  "Under here."

  Tipping his head to the side as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Derek bit his lip for a second, studying the scene before him. Beth was half under the small, wooden table, the broom flailing back and forth as if she were trying to sweep. "Umm, why don't you move the table to do that?"

  "I dropped something and I was just picking it up."

  Skeptical, he leaned against the counter. "Mrs. Worthington says I am to help you clean."

  Standing up, her hair falling out of its usually tight bun, she said, "There isn't much to help with. I've been working down here all day."

  "What's left?"

  "Laundry needs to be taken up and washed and hung. And the lunch and breakfast dishes are still there."

  "Do you want me to do the dishes, or washing?"

  With a smile, Beth said, "The wash tub is right over there."

  Should have just said I'd do the dishes, he thought, walking over to pick up the full wash tub from under the laundry chute.

  The days of cleaning went by quickly. Furniture was moved and floors were scrubbed. Two more beds were put into the guest bedroom and Atty's worn mattress was pushed into Derek's old bedroom with Beth's. Furniture was moved around in each room to accommodate the tighter quarters. All of the walls were washed and the baseboards were scrubbed.

  Derek insisted on doing his old room. With the shifting of furniture he didn't want to risk anyone finding his secret store box. It wasn't exactly his room any more, but he still liked knowing he had his own little spot in the house that Mrs. Worthington and Jonathan couldn't get at. He was a little sad when Jonathan directed him to move the standing cupboard so it covered his hidden compartment in the baseboard, but better that than it being found out, he consoled himself.

  By the end of the week, Derek smelled permanently of soap and wash water. He was so tired of scrubbing, clipping, watering, and pruning that he didn't think he wanted to clean or tidy anything ever again. When Friday came there was no more to be done. Everything was polished, right down to the horses getting new shoes.

  With nothing to do outside, Derek had spent the rainy morning curled up under his blanket, his Bible open in his lap, his paper propped against a crate board. He had gone through and found the longest three verses he could and was in the middle of copying them down. His penmanship was nearly perfect and he could write fairly quickly. The next step in his plan was to get Devon to teach him how to read the letters he'd taught himself to write.

  There was only one flaw in his great plan: Devon held a grudge very badly. He still wasn't speaking to him other than to bark orders or tell him he wasn't doing something the right way. He was taking his time forgetting about the day in the strawberry patch.

  On the morning the Smithfield's were to arrive, Derek took advantage of Devon's distraction with breakfast and sneaked up to the loft. He was there only long enough to pull his ledger and pencil out of his chest before his escape was interrupted.

  "Derek!"

  Jumping more at being called by his name than at Jonathan's voice, Derek looked over the edge of the loft floor. "What is it?"

  Jonathan was opening Blueberry's gate and leading him out of the stall. "We're going to pick up the Smithfield's now. When we get back you'll be in charge of bringing their things in."

  "How long are you going to be gone?"

  "A couple hours, most likely. They'll want to get something to eat in town after the long train ride."

  "All right."

  "Make sure everything in their room is cleaned and dusted."

  "All right."

  "And don't wake Catherine when you go in."

  "All right."

  Jonathan glared up at him. "Don't be smart. Get down here."

  Rolling his eyes, Derek set his book and pad by his bed and climbed down the ladder. He suppressed a sigh and took the lead Jonathan held out to him and following him out the door.

  The morning was overcast and there was a comfortable breeze. The lazy warbling of birds filtered out between the trees. It was as typical a spring morning in Virginia as ever anyone had seen.

  When they got to the porch, Jonathan turned up the steps and marched into the house without looking back at Derek.

  Leading Blueberry to the carriage house, Derek muttered, "Wonder what he's rushing around for." When the horse was hitched up to the carriage, Derek patted his nose and started back towards the stables.

  "Boy!"

  Sigh.

  Devon shuffled towards him, his eyes squinted. "You gon' finish your work now?"

  "I did finish. I don't have anything to do until they get back from town
."

  Scrunching up his face and glaring at Derek steadily, Devon grunted something under his breath before walking passed him, down the hill, and stomping up the white steps and into the house.

  "Crazy old man," Derek muttered, shaking his head.

  As he walked the rest of the way to the stables, Derek began to think about his master plan to learn to read. Ignoring Lady Sarah Mary-Ruth's agitated snorts, he climbed up the ladder to the loft then flopped down on his bed.

  "Ouch!"

  He rolled off the books and set them on the floor. Looking at them for a moment, a sense of hopelessness washed over him. He suddenly saw himself as an ancient, white-bearded man hunched over a pile of papers covered in useless scribbles and meaningless combinations of letters.

  "Pointless, that's what you are," he told his Bible. Whatever Mrs. Worthington and his father saw in it was something far above him.

  Stretching, Derek lied back down, nuzzling his shoulders back into the warm hay. The cooler air blew in through the open window at the end of the loft, sending a chill down his spine and raising bumps on his flesh. As he breathed in the clean smell of summer and dry hay, an irresistible sleepiness overtook him.

  The hay suddenly felt cool and reedy, like long grass that had been swaying in an early fall wind only moments before. Derek was staring through a leafy canopy, shifting patches of sky and light winking at him as the branches of the forest that had grown up around him moved with a breeze he could not feel….

  "Derek."

  It was her voice again.

  "Derek. Find me."

  Looking around, Derek found the trees gone. He was sitting in the middle of grass so tall and thick, he could barely see the sky. Where he could see it, the sky was dark and there wasn't a star to be seen. If the moon had ever existed in the inky blackness that hung over him, it had left forever. The shadows that shifted through the webs of angular patches of midnight were thick. It was obvious that this world had never seen the sun.