The Girl in the Attic by Wendy Reakes

Author:Wendy Reakes [Reakes, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2017-08-15T06:00:00+00:00

We never did think of a way to stack the furniture. Everything was too heavy for us to handle, so for now, we left the attic the way it was, hoping that if anyone happened to come up during the winter, they wouldn’t see my Bedouin tent, nor the cosiness contained therein.

That same day, Celia came back during late afternoon. “Everyone’s resting after the activities of the day,” she said.

“What happened?” How I loved to listen to Celia’s stories about the people down below. She was adept at storytelling and added lots of drama which I wasn’t sure were true or not, but I didn’t mind, Celia’s stories were my greatest means of entertainment whilst hiding in the attic above Wilbury House.

“We had guests,” Celia answered. “Seven people came back from church without notice to the cook. Unheard of in this house,” she added. “One of them was the vicar, which wasn’t too out of the ordinary since he sometimes comes back and doesn’t make much of a difference to the family when they sit down to their six-course lunch.” She raised up her eyebrows in deference; an expression she’d no doubt copied from her mother. “But the other six were from a family who live in nearby Frome.”

I shivered when I heard the name of the town. The black-haired lout had come from Frome and any association to the name was abhorrent to me.

“They said they were related…distant cousins or something,” Celia said, “and that they’d gone to the church in Mells by invitation of the vicar.” Celia shook her head. “Of course, the servants are not given any consideration and we had to suddenly bring out the best silverware and extend the table, which we’d already laid before going off to church. My mother accepted the situation fine, but ooh…the cook and the head footman were right livid.”

Celia had already told me about the family who lived in the house where I resided without their knowledge nor by invitation of any kind. The Earl was called His Lordship by the servants, but Celia had found out about their history from a footman called Lancelot.

Lord Wilbury had inherited the house and title from his father George, Celia had told me. “He had once cut off the son,” Celia had said with wide brown eyes, “Disinherited him after he went and did something bad. But then he forgave him when he got wed. Her name was…”

“Elizabeth,” I said quietly as I finished Celia’s sentence.

“How do you know?”

“Her things are up here next to George’s,” I said softly, respectful of her presence in the attic.

“Ah, yes. When George died…Lord Wilbury had George’s things put with Elizabeth’s in the attic.”

“But what of William?”

“Who?”

“The baby…William. What happened to him?”

Celia shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’ll find out, don’t you worry none, Marley.”

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