My Dearest Josephine

5: Letters Locked Away

Polly was just finishing up in Derek's office. The office was the last room on the first floor that she needed to tidy up. Everything had been dusted, polished, folded, and organized. She scanned the room one last time to make sure that nothing seemed out of place. I do believe that's trash, Polly muttered to herself, seeing a few papers that were crumbled up and under the desk. She made her way over to them and picked them up. I'd better check if their contents are important. She smoothed the papers out on the desk, and skimmed through each one.

"You needn't worry about my finances," Polly read the words under her breath. It seemed like they were all letters. "I assure you, Father, that the foolish lies that you have heard- No, this doesn't seem like trash." She separated the paper from the others, and went on to read the next one.

"Ezra has told me that I needn't worry about the incident." She quickly decided that this letter would also be put away in the drawer.

"While on the topic of syphilis-" Polly dropped the letter in disgust. "Gracious. Lord Chester must have a much stronger stomach than I do."  

At least she didn't have to read anymore of that. She stacked the papers together and attempted to open the drawer. She found that it was locked, and not only that one, but all of them. As long as Polly had worked for Derek Chester, his drawers had never been locked. None that she recalled. What am I to do then?

She leaned against the wall and stared at a photograph of Josephine that Derek always kept on his desk. The picture was one Polly could never keep herself from looking at whenever she entered the room. Such a lovely woman. It's a shame what happened to her mother. Lady Chester had been through so much already; it seemed liked the death of her mother had been on cue. The marvelous thing about the photograph was that one would never guess by her expression that anything in her life had ever gone wrong. Polly herself could see no suffering or sadness in Josephine's eyes. She had always been fascinated by people's eyes.

Polly's gaze wandered from the photograph to the floor. Another letter was under the desk. She thought that was odd. Weren't there only three papers?

"My Dearest Josephine-" Polly read to herself.

She stopped reading at the sound of approaching footsteps. Polly's attention was now at the door. It was Derek who opened it. He smiled handsomely at her, and looked around the room with satisfaction.

"The room looks as fine as ever. Almost done here, Polly?" Derek asked her.

"Yes, Lord Chester." Polly held the letters in her hand. "But I found these letters under your desk. I tried to put them away, but all your drawers are locked, see? I didn't really know what else to do with them. What do you wish?"

Derek looked a fright. He froze and stared at Polly incredulously. His distress was clear by his expression. Polly wasn't  sure what was wrong with him. This sudden, severe fear that had overwhelmed him just now was unlike him. He could not give her an answer.

"Alright, Lord Chester?" She asked, worried for his own well-being. "You look as if you've seen a ghost," she tried to joke, "worse, even."

His fright was now gone. Only anger remained. "You can read!" Derek accused. He approached the maid quickly with a look in his eyes that Polly had never witnessed before. He had transformed completely before her; this was definitely not the man who had greeted her so warmly only minutes ago.

"Derek," Polly said, keeping her composure while under pressure. "I  can tell you this much-"

"Why did you do what was not asked of you?" Derek bellowed, cutting her off. Polly sensed a slight desperation in his tone, and that was never good. He grabbed her by the wrist and dug his hand into his pocket. What the hell is in his pocket?!

"What- Is this what has you so worked up?" Polly exclaimed, rolling her wrist around in his grip, hoping he would let go soon. "Of course I can't read! What might've made you think that?" She chuckled.

As soon as she laughed, she saw the change in Derek. He was more at ease now. Polly didn't know what just happened. Was he even himself anymore?

"How do you know that they're letters?" He asked, letting her go.

"Everyone knows what a letter looks like, Lord Chester." She chose and spoke her words cautiously.

Polly then saw his instant relief. She made sure that he couldn't see hers. He was a peculiar one; she had always thought so. But now she knew for certain that something was truly wrong with him. What would he have done to her if he found out that she could read? Better yet, she wondered what he would have done to her hand.

"I never thought I'd see you that angry at me." Polly tried not to spit out.

"I like my privacy, Polly. And I don't know what came over me then." Derek took out a key from his pocket and showed it to Polly. "You never know who's watching," he said. "And you can never be too careful."

Polly handed him the papers. "You're right about that much." She agreed.

She watched as he unlocked the bottom drawer. When it opened, she saw something that was never there before: Papers. There had to be hundreds of them in there. Was this a new obsession Derek had taken a fancy to?

"What do you write about?" She asked, truly curious.

Derek stuffed the letters inside the drawer, and locked it shut. "Everything." He said simply. She was disturbed then. "Are you done now?"

"Yes." Polly nodded. "I'm off to the next floor now." He watched her exit the room, making her uncomfortable. She hurried away.

"Goodnight, Polly." He called out, sitting down on his chair. "Let's put this little incident behind us."

"Goodnight to you, Lord Chester." Polly replied, never looking behind her.

Polly was clueless as to what was happening to him. Derek Chester was, of course, no simpleton and had never been a man of few words. That is why his response had surprised her so. She could only wonder what "everything" really was.