Okay, I’m back on track today. Here’s chapter nine in my little saga.
Chapter Nine
I was still sitting on the floor when someone started knocking. It was a light tapping. I ignored it. I didn’t want to talk or see anybody. Not yet at least. Thom had made my decision suddenly easier.
The knocking persisted.
“If I didn’t answer the first time that means I don’t want to talk,” I cried.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I have a wash basin for you, and Miss Beverly would like to see you in the kitchen,” a soft voice said from the other end.
I opened the door and saw Bridgette, our short maid. Her usually twinkling hazel eyes were sullen and focused toward the ground.
“Bridgette? What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing, ma’am.”
“You wear your emotions on your sleeve. So spill it, what’s wrong?”
“Is it true? About Thomas?” her meek little voice was barely above a whisper.
“I’m not sure, Bridgette.”
“He seemed so nice,” she continued.
“Yes, he did. Thank you for the water,” I took the pitcher and basin from her.
“Oh, yes. Sorry for rambling, ma’am,” she turned and quickly shuffled down the hall.
I poured the warm water into the bowl and washed myself. The warmth felt good against my clammy skin. I opted for a light blue day dress until dinner.
The kitchen was quiet except for Bev kneading more dough. She seemed to always be kneading some sort of dough. Flour was all over the table, her apron, and her face.
“You wanted to see me, Bev?”
“Come sit, child,” she smiled wiping off her hands and reaching under a towel for something.
She pulled out a bun that was still steaming and lathered it in butter. I climbed on to the stool that was near the table and grabbed the bread from her.
“I guess you heard all the commotion upstairs.”
“Yes, I did,” she said returning to the dough on the table.
“Is it true? Could any of that be true? He’s one of those monsters?”
“I know as much as you do,” she replied.
“I’m just so confused. He’s done a complete turn around since yesterday. If he is one of those monsters, what if he comes back?” I asked, picking off pieces of the bread and popping it into my mouth.
“Sweet girl, I am as surprised as you are about all of this. I never thought he was some monster. Do tell that Inspector friend of yours about it.”
I will.” I sat there and stared at her for a few minutes, “Hey, Bev?”
“What?”
“You’re Aunt Bev, aren’t you?”
She stopped with the bread and looked at me with a soft smile. She had the same eyes as my mother.
“Which means, William is….Uncle William?”
Her smile widened, “Your mother spilled the beans about the dark family secret didn’t she?”
I nodded.
“I knew you would figure it out eventually,” she said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, chewing on the bun.
“Not my place to tell you.”
“What do I do about all of this?” I asked.
“This is beyond my scope of ability.” she went to the stove and took the lid off a pot and stirred whatever was in it, “Now get upstairs and get dressed for dinner.”
“Yes, Aunt Bev.”
I took my bread and went to my room. She always made me feel like a little kid. I didn’t mind it though. She made me feel safe and right now, that was what I needed. To feel somewhat safe. Especially in my home.
John couldn’t get here fast enough.
