Monday, June 21, 2010

Clue in the Attic

Another beginning of a book we tried with three of us. We were each going to write a paragraph and see what we could come up with. My sister Bev was not at all comfortable with it because she says she is not a writer even thought she does write beautiful poetry and is very talented. It is a book that I will finish on my own unless I can talk Billie Williams into continuing the adventure with me. I thought you would all like a look at the fist part of Clue in the Attic.

CLUE IN THE LIBRARY
By Janice S. Kaat
Billie Williams
Beverly Teetzen

Fiona Windimere gazed up at the row upon row of books lining the shelves of Lord Greenwhich's library. This morning she had been a servant girl, working for Mr. Beezlie, and tonight she was the owner of this mansion. The look of pure hate Mr. Beezlie had sent her after the reading of the will, still made Fiona's skin prick. She looked again at the slip of paper the lawyer had handed her. Why would Lord Greenwhich insist on her reading Green Sleeves and where in all these books would it be? A sound from above made her look up. A book slowly slid forward and tumbled off the shelf.
The little mouse almost fell off the shelf with the book. She wondered, was he part of a plan or was it just coincidence. Fiona picked the book up from the floor and read the title "Cause of Death," was emblazoned on the cover. Why on earth did she figure it would be "Green Sleeves," her mind must be working overtime. Fiona browsed the shelf. On the one side of the now empty space was "Ann of Green Gables," on the other "Green Hornet Mysteries." As she perused the shelf she noticed, all the books on that shelf had the word green somewhere in the title. But was it a book Lord Greenwhich had in mind or was it the words "green sleeves" - as she eyed the cover of "Gone With the Wind," Scarlett graced the cover in her green drapery turned dress, the green sleeves billowing from the frock. Fiona sat in the high back chair and pondered the note. Each word, the way it was placed, she turned the paper over. A map, a diagram of sorts indicating.... What she wondered?
Fiona yawned. Glancing at her watch she was surprised to find it after midnight. The diagram still made no sense after careful study and she hoped that a good night sleep might help her see it differently in the morning. She turned the paper over once more to glance at the note. Something puzzled her about the wording but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Oh well, maybe in the morning. Laying the paper down she turned to go upstairs. After a few steps she hesitated and turned back to pick up the paper and took it upstairs with her.
Sleep refused to come. The note bore a hole in her subconscious mind. Something about this whole thing puzzled her. Why her? Why had Lord Greenwhich left her this mansion? Were there treasures hidden somewhere? Was that what the note was all about? The picture of a trunk on the note, she had seen that some where, but where? It had to be when she was cleaning one day. Yes, now she remembered. It was in the attic. She'd have to check that out in the morning. Fiona threw back the covers and flicked on the light. She studied the note again. It still didn't make any sense. Her mind must have gone to sleep, even if she couldn't. Something told her to take the note to bed with her. She slipped it under the pillow, and flicked off the light. The creaking of the floor boards made her catch her breath. She heard the shuffle of footsteps in the hall and a beam of light shown from underneath her bedroom door.
Fiona slipped out of bed and waited behind her bedroom door. As the foot falls paused at her door she held her breath. She knew every sound in the Old Greenwhich place. She should, she had been living there since she was born. Her mother had worked there right up to the day she died and Fiona recognized the walk behind the footfalls that were paused at her door. Soon, they moved on. She pulled her heavy robe from the closet and slid into it and then her corduroy slippers as she listened. The attic door squeaked as it opened. He was going for the trunk, the one place she thought the answer to Lord Greenwhich's clue might be.
Hurrying over to her closet she slipped in, slid open the secret panel and cautiously climbed the ladder-like stairs to the attic. What was it he wanted besides the trunk? Her breathing was labored. She worried he might hear her as she watched through the peep hole she had discovered as she played spy as a child. How many eons ago that seemed now. So many things had happened.
She watched as he put something into a carpet and wrapped it around it. He picked up the picture shaped package and headed back down stairs. She would ask him for his keys back tomorrow, he had no reason to need a key. No longer frightened, only curious as to what he needed to steal - she wondered what he couldn't comfortably ask her to give him. There weren't many things in the old mansion she wanted. Most of it had become fixtures to her. She never saw them anymore. When you live in a place for thirty some years and nothing changes, the only thing you notice is when something disappears. Fiona had a good idea of what it was Dorchester took from the attic. What she wanted to know now was why?
Carefully, she crawled back down the ladder stairs and back through the closet to her room. No sense in trying to sleep now. She was too angry at the arrogance of the intruder. Perhaps she would have all the locks changed. That would be easier than trying to get all the keys back that may be floating around. She was determined her safety and security would not be compromised by greed or revenge.
She pulled her journal from her writing desk drawer, flicked on the lamp so she could write. The lamp shade glowed and eerie green against the picture of her mother on the wall above the desk. "Okay mom, talk to me. What did Lord Greenwhich mean - reread Green sleeves?" She needed a copy of the will, she needed the exact words. She continued to write as words flowed from her pen. The mystery, the clues, pushed to the back of her mind for the moment, she wrote about Lord Greenwhich. Had he really died of natural causes? Did Dorchester have a hand in his death? Perhaps an autopsy would be in order, but first she needed proof. She made a list of things she needed to do first thing tomorrow. Find the book Green Sleeves or at least read the part in the will that mentions it, learn when Lord Greenwhich gave the lawyer that note. Was the hand writing really Lord Greenwhich's? She had so many questions.
Rising from her desk to prepare for the day ahead, Fiona again remembered the look of pure hate Mr. Beezlie had sent her after the reading of the will. That he was not pleased with her inheritance was obvious. Why? Had he been hoping that Dorchester would inherit the place, therein securing his continuing employment or had he hoped to inherit the Old Greenwhich place himself? Fiona sure wished she had someone she could talk openly with. Having no other family left since her mother died, she didn't know who she could turn to. Funny how in the past it had never bothered her that she didn't know who her father was and even if he was still alive. It was one thing her mother always refused to talk about, except to always say, "Some day, if the time is right, then we will talk.” Well, now she would never know but she sure wished for a father right now that she could talk to.
Fiona decided to go back to the library before going into town to talk with the lawyer. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but somehow she felt the answer to the riddle was in the library. When she entered the library she saw a book on the floor. "Stupid mouse," she said to the books on the shelf. Bending over to pick it up she noticed the title was the "Green Hornet". Green, Lord Greenwhich must have had something about green. She flipped through the book and her eyes fell on certain words that were underlined. This was a thought of another color. She wondered if there was some importance to it all. Going back to the beginning of the book, she fanned through it slowly, and every time she saw an underlined word she wrote it down on a pad of paper. It was like a line of poetry. The words read: Back panel is gate to upward climb. Now what did that mean? Did all these books have words underlined in them? Was it talking about the back panel in her wardrobe that led to the secret staircase?
This is all giving me a dastardly migraine - I can no longer worry my head over this until I can't see straight. I must go out to the garden where I can let my mind work on its own while I spend my time and energy accomplishing something worthy of my effort. All this clue stuff is for Agatha Christie or Hercoute Perot -- I need fresh air and sunshine. Fiona gathered her wide brimmed straw hat and a pair of gloves she used for the garden. Perhaps a bouquet of flowers would cheer her gloomy mood. She slipped out the service entrance door into the kitchen garden. Perhaps a few herbs and vegetables would ease her tattered soul. She snipped here and there, pulled here and there - "Weeds," she said in a huff. "If you aren't on top of them they take over."
"I'm working as fast as I can Ma'am. This garden was nearly let to go to ruin. Look here by the mulberry tree. You couldn't even sit on the bench and admire the view. Oh I'm sorry. I know you must be Mistress Fiona Windimere, Lord Greenwhich hired me to be your gardener only recently."
"And your name would be?" Fiona questioned. Though she rarely blushed, the dashing young man stammering to catch his words on the fly made her feel as though she should. She straightened her hat and her skirt in her embarrassment - Why am I acting like a blabbering school girl, she thought and turned from his direct eye contact pretending she needed one more flower for her basket.
"Verdant, Ma'am," he said wiping his hand on his trousers and offering his hand. "Mark Verdant."
She offered her gloved hand and was forced to look deep into those disturbing dark eyes. "Fine, carry on." she said as she hurried away back into the mansion and safety.
Setting her basket of flowers down, Fiona's thoughts were still on the young man she had just met. Shaking her head as if to clear all thought of him, she decided it was time to visit the lawyer. Maybe the short walk would help to clear her mind and she just might find the answers to a few of her questions. Entering her room to fetch her shawl, she spied the note on her desk. Picking it up, she slipped the note into her pocket so she could study it on her walk to the lawyer’s office. The first line of the note seemed etched in her mind, "Within the cover's you shall find, words that always seem to rhyme". She couldn't help but wonder if somehow the words she stumbled on earlier had to fit into some pattern with the lines of the note.
"Within the cover's you shall find, words that always seem to rhyme".
"Back panel is gate to upward climb".
An idea was starting to form in her mind. She would visit the lawyer and then return to the library to check out her hunch.
Fiona took a short cut through her back yard to a path that ran along the river. She did not pass unnoticed.
"Where are you going, Miss?" the gardener asked.
"I'm just out for a walk."
"It is improper for a young lady to be off by herself. Would you like to be escorted?"
"No, thanks, I've been this way before. Besides, you have work to do. Carry on."
She smiled as she turned her back on him. It's improper for a young lady to be off by herself. Humph, little he knew about her. She knew these back ways like she knew how to climb the stairs. She'd heard it all before. Just like it was improper for her mother to have her and not be married. So, she had been an improper thing since the day she was born. Who cared? Men! They were all alike. Thought they knew what was best at all times, and they were the ones that messed things up.
Anyway, how could she study the note if she wasn't alone? She took it from her pocket and looked at the words and the little drawings. "Reread green sleeves." Was there a book by that name? Or did it mean something else? Was there something in a painting? The picture of the chest she understood. But in the other corner was a key and right underneath it were the words, "Within the covers you shall find, words that always seem to rhyme." Was that a real key, or did it mean that the key to the whole mystery was inside the covers of the books? Fiona was so intent on looking at the note that she wasn't watching where she was going and ran right into someone. She looked up into the eyes of Dorchester.
“I didn’t mean to startle you Miss Windimere,” Dorchester said reaching out to stop her from falling head first into the briars that lined the path in that particular part of the trail.
“I, I never expected to run into another soul on this path. I’m fine. Please unhand me.” She said with a pout pulling the corners of her mouth down, like a child who was trying to be grown up after having made a faux pas. She brushed at her dress as though he had soiled it by touching her. This amused him.
He immediately dropped his arm. In the other she noticed he carried several books. “I was returning these. They are part of my father’s collection. He loaned them to me months ago with the admonition that I should re-read “The Green – something. Never could remember what he said. Nonetheless, I have no use or place to keep these. You should have them I expect since he wanted you to have everything.” He passed the books to her. “I’ll be on my way then.” He hesitated looking at her standing there waif like, he couldn’t tell if in confusion or perhaps loneliness. “Are you going into town? And if so, would it be presumptuous of me to offer myself as your escort?”
Fiona accepted his offer. “Allow me to carry the books at least until we part company than,” he said as he retrieved them from her grasp. “Another matter that I wanted to discuss with you is,” he said clearing his throat. “I have some paintings I should like to take from the estate if it meets with your approval,” a look of concern clouding his face.
“You know anything you wish to retrieve from the mansion is totally acceptable. He was your father. I’m sure all the things there mean more to you than to me. Tell me which paintings you want and I will have Mr. Beezlie set them aside for you.”
“There is one called Green Sleeves that I am particularly fond of. Eight ladies in the picture and seven in nearly white dresses, but your beautiful mother is the center of the group dressed in a gown the color of her emerald eyes. She was a stunning woman your mother, and father loved that painting. I would choose that if you allow it.”
And a servant to your family, she wanted to reply. Why would he want the picture? She never realized it was her mother in that picture; she must have been a mere girl when that was painted. “And what of the others you choose to have?” she asked.
There is one painted from on the green, from the south of the green that is. It’s before the old mansion began to show the rigors of what the war had done. I believe there are seven all together. They are all in the attic. I can come by next week to retrieve them if you will be so kind as to allow it.”
“They belong to you Mr. Greenwhich, more than me. Come when you will. Thank you for the company, but I am at my journey’s end.” She said reaching for the books. She wanted to ask him what he had taken from the attic the other night. Why hadn’t he taken all the pictures he wanted then? Perhaps he couldn’t carry them all at once. But, why not ask for that one too as he asked for the others now? She thought better of the idea.
As he passed the books back to her a slip of paper fluttered to the ground from between them. He hastily retrieved it. “Oh this, by Loreena McKennitt—I believe it was your mother’s favorite.”
Fiona glanced at the parchment’s neat calligraphy in a woman’s delicate hand writing. The top of the page titled “Green Sleeves”. She wanted to immediately read the verse, but didn’t dare in front of Dorchester. She hurried into the lawyer’s office leaving him in the street staring after her. Her hands trembled as she read the page.
Loreena McKennitt - Greensleeves
Alas my love you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously;
And I have loved you oh so long
Delighting in your company.
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves my heart of gold
Greensleeves was my heart of joy
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.
I have been ready at your hand
To grant whatever thou would'st crave;
I have waged both life and land
Your love and goodwill for to have.
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold
Greensleeves was my heart of joy
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.
Thy petticoat of sendle white
With gold embroidered gorgeously;
Thy petticoat of silk and white
And these I bought thee gladly.
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves my heart of gold
Greensleeves was my heart of joy
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.
At the end, signed in a strong male signature
Your slave forever my darling emerald eyes, DBG
She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. What was the implication – what were the things she was becoming privy to?
“Won’t you come in,” the lawyer said breaking her thoughts from the poem and the quandary that was beginning to pull perspiration from her in embarrassing dampness. Was that the Green Sleeves Lord Greenwhich had meant? Who was DBG? Better yet who was Emerald Eyes? She quickly folded the parchment and slipped it back into one of the books and followed the lawyer into his office.

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