The Blueprint
April 29, 2025 – Fredericksburg, Virginia
Eli returned from his truck carrying a leather portfolio, the afternoon sun catching the brass corners as he climbed the porch steps. "I think you'll find these interesting," he said, carefully extracting yellowed blueprints from protective sleeves.
The paper whispered against itself as he unfolded the documents across the antique desk, releasing the faint scent of old archives and careful preservation
“Here it is.” Eli’s fingers tracing the faded lines with reverence. “The original 1858 plans,” he said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of excitement he couldn't quite conceal. "These were in the Merriweather family archives. My great-grandfather kept meticulous records of all the properties he had connections to."
Amelia leaned forward and ran her fingers along the paper, admiring the draftsmanship. The paper felt fragile beneath her touch despite what was obviously careful preservation.
"Look at these notations—it appears as though all of the joist and support beams have been documented," she murmured, examining every detail of the two-story structure. "Hmm…” she leaned in closer to look at something.
Eli said nothing. He patiently waited for her to finish her thought and let him in on what she was studying.
"This doesn't match," Amelia said as she reached for her notebook.
She flipped to the page where she'd recorded measurements during her earlier exploration. "The eastern wall dimensions are… wrong. According to these blueprints, there should be an additional eight feet of interior space."
Eli leaned closer, his shoulder nearly touching hers. "Are you certain?"
"I had my suspicions, and I measured twice." She placed her notebook beside the blueprint, comparing figures. "The exterior matches exactly with these plans, but the rooms on the east side are significantly smaller than what’s shown on the blueprints."
A barely perceptible change came over Eli's expression—a tightening around his eyes, a subtle shift in his breathing.
"What do you think it means?" he asked, his tone deliberately casual.
Amelia traced the eastern wall with her pen. "There's a space unaccounted for—running the entire length of the house between the study and the eastern exterior wall. Almost like a corridor, or perhaps..." She paused, considering. "A crawlspace."
"Hidden storage, perhaps," Eli suggested, though something in his voice suggested he already knew more than he was letting on. "Not uncommon in houses of this era. Particularly during wartime."
Amelia studied his face. "You don't seem surprised."
He met her gaze steadily. "Historical preservation is full of architectural curiosities. I've documented several properties with concealed spaces such as this one —priest holes, smuggling compartments, hiding places for valuables during military occupations."
"Or places to store things someone didn't want found,".
She hesitated, to share what she'd documented during the past few days would be a risk, her cautious inner academic said, and she had already been burned once… on the other hand, she reflected, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
"I found some journal entries from Eleanor.” She said, “ She documented botanical specimens and made various medical observations. I've been wondering where the actual samples might be."
“Really?” Eli's attention sharpened. "What kind of observations?"
"She seemed to be assisting Dr. Merriweather with documenting unusual cases during the war. Tracking symptoms, to an extent even preparing medical solutions." Amelia watched Eli carefully as she spoke. "She wrote about preserving plant samples, even tissue cultures in some cases. But I haven't found any physical specimens in the main collection."
"Hmm, you know, those samples could still exist," Eli said thoughtfully. "Historical artifacts sometimes survive in unexpected ways when properly preserved."
"After 160 years? That is highly unlikely."
"Not if they were properly preserved. James Merriweathers is known for having experimented during the war, and developed sophisticated preservation techniques for his specimens, if miss ___ truly worked with him..." Eli's eyes took on an almost feverish gleam. "If those samples were sealed in a controlled environment—a space specifically designed for long-term preservation, there might be more than just dust behind those walls.."
Amelia glanced back at the blueprint, seeing it with fresh eyes. "Eleanor might even have created this space herself. Her journals mentioned her spending much time with Sarah Everett, Charle’s wife, while the men were away during the war, due to family obligations. They might have lived together for a time." she thought back to the pages she had most recently recorded, “I cannot be sure, of course, but for how things were going in the autumn of ‘61 it seems a logical assumption to make. ”
Then she quickly backtracked, “which I’d have to confirm, of course”
"If that happened though, it would make sense," Eli nodded. "Women left behind during the conflict often made significant modifications to protect valuables or create safe spaces."
Amelia returned to the blueprints, studying the eastern wall specifications more carefully. "These ventilation notations… do they look unusual for the period—could they have created some sort of climate control system?"
He nodded, “By the 1800s, they had already figured out that thick walls could hold out heat, and high ceilings, like what you might have in there, would let the warm air rise, keeping the lower air cooler. Not to mention they were already using cupolas to allow hot air to escape.”
“I know for a fact that the Merriweathers were experimenting with preservation environments as early as the 1850s," Eli explained, leaning in to examine the markings. "Temperature stabilization, humidity control—techniques that wouldn't become standard in scientific preservation for another fifty years."
"So this could have been designed as a preservation space," Amelia mused, leaning closer to examine the fine details of the ventilation markings. "Or even have been made into one later." She straightened up, pulling off her glasses to rub her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Eleanor's journals suggest she was meticulous about documenting her work and, considering what I found, I was surprised to find nothing more than paper in storage."
"Are you alright?" Eli asked, suddenly concerned.
"Just a headache. Probably from squinting at faded handwriting for days," she replied.
"You should take a break. And stay hydrated," he advised, watching her with unexpected attentiveness. "Have you been around anyone who's sick lately?"
"Hasn’t everybody?” she joked, rubbing at her temples in slow circles. “But I’m fine. It’s just, you know, an occupational hazard."
As if to mock her, the phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, frowning at the screen and quickly lowering the system light. "Ah, it looks like Harvard's medical school has suspended in-person classes after faculty members were hospitalized with this new flu strain. And Princeton's history department is quarantined after a faculty meeting where multiple professors were exposed." She looked up at Eli. "They're calling it the 'academic flu' now because it seems to be hitting universities particularly hard."
She scrolled through her notifications. "My department chair says Boston University is converting all classes to remote learning for the rest of the term."
"You were around these people before you came here?" Eli asked, a note of alarm in his voice.
"There were a few cases before I left," Amelia admitted. "Nothing serious, and nobody I truly frequented. You know how isolated we academic types can be."
Eli studied her with increased concern. "Maybe we should take a break. You're looking a bit pale."
"I'm fine, truly" Amelia insisted, turning back to the blueprints. "If my numbers are correct, the hidden space would run the full length of the eastern wall. That's nearly twenty feet of concealed area."
"Plenty of room for a significant collection," Eli agreed, the tightness of his mouth still showing concern, but accepting her change of topic he set the blueprints aside and moved toward the eastern side of the study, where an imposing bookcase dominated the wall. "If there's a hidden space, there must be an entrance somewhere."
Amelia followed, watching as he ran his hands along the ornate wainscoting, examining the seams where wood met plaster. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for.
"You've done this before," she said, not a question.
"People out in these parts,” he replied without looking at her. “They hid things they didn't want the occupying armies to find."
"And what exactly are you expecting to find?"
Eli paused, his hand resting on a section of paneling. "Historical treasures, I imagine. Documents, artifacts—things that would tell us more about what happened here during the war."
Amelia moved closer to the shelves, examining how they connected to the surrounding structure. Her gaze snagged onto something, “What about here?” she pointed, “ The wood tone is slightly different from the other built-ins."
Eli joined her, studying the craftsmanship with knowing eyes. "These joinery techniques are consistent with hidden door construction. See how the seams align with the decorative elements? It disguises the break lines."
Amelia stepped back, surveying the entire wall with new understanding. “Wait then, if it really ends up being some sort of preservation area, we need to follow proper protocols so we don’t destroy anything—or kill ourselves in the process. I didn’t bring my gas monitor or any PPE, did you?.”
His answer was cut short by her phone chiming with an incoming call. The screen displayed her department chair's name and she made the universal gesture for ‘sorry’ and ‘really gotta take this’.
"Dr. Saunders," she answered, stepping away from Eli. "Yes, I've been following the campus updates."
As she listened, her expression grew increasingly troubled. "A faculty death? Who?... Martin? That's—yes, I understand. No, I'll stay in Virginia until... Yes, a research leave is fine. Please keep me updated."
She ended the call, her hand slightly unsteady as she set the phone down.
"Bad news?" Eli asked, though his tone suggested he already anticipated the answer.
"A professor died at my university. Martin Winters from the English Department." Amelia's voice was tight. "Forty-two, excellent health, no pre-existing conditions. They're extending campus closures indefinitely."
"I'm sorry," Eli said with sincerity.
Amelia nodded, rubbing her temple again, composing herself. "I'd like to begin tomorrow. First thing in the morning, when I'm fresh."
"Of course," Eli agreed.
Amelia returned to the blueprints, studying them with renewed focus. "We'll need specialized equipment. Thermal imaging might help detect temperature variations in the wall structure. Gas detectors for us, and—”
“I can get us everything we need. I have some of it already, and for what I miss, well, I’ll get it through the Merriweather Foundation," Eli offered. "Ground-penetrating radar, infrared cameras—tools designed for non-invasive archaeological investigation. Just get me a list of what you need for the biological specimens, in case they are actually there.”
"The Merriweather Foundation?" Amelia hadn't heard him mention this before.
"A family trust dedicated to historical preservation and medical research," he explained. "Similar to how Thomas established the Everett trust to protect this property, James did the same thing."
“Okay, so your family has maintained an interest in both history and medicine for generations," Amelia thought about it. “Interesting mix.”
"Some callings persist through time," Eli said simply.
“Yes, well," she said, closing her notebook. "Equipment permitting, I’d like to begin tomorrow. If there's a hidden space containing Eleanor's specimens, we’ll need to be careful. Approach its discovery methodically.” Curiosity drew her in. She knew she had to resist that urge and be patient, but that was always the hard part of the job.
"Of course," Eli agreed, though something in his demeanor suggested he would have preferred immediate action. "Once I have that list, I'll arrange for the equipment to be delivered."
As they prepared to leave the study, Amelia paused at the desk where Eleanor's letters lay in their archival sleeves. "If our theories are right, and Eleanor truly went to extraordinary lengths to preserve her work—building a hidden repository–who was it for?" Amelia asked, looking directly at him. "For history? For science? For further study?"
Eli met her gaze, and for a moment, the careful mask of the local historian seemed to slip. "Perhaps for all of us."
AUTHOR’S NOTES
I used to write home improvement shows, but I never got to write about the things we’re delving into here.
So is the whole preservation even possible? I’ll say this much about it. If my grandpa had been around back then, he would have figured something like that out.
Heck, he would have probably gotten central heat and air up and running for the whole house! 😂
Something I wouldn’t have ever thought about years ago was the air quality of a room. But in the past seven or so years, I have been filming in tunnels and areas where that stuff comes into play.
It’s hugely important to check the air before you enter a possible sealed room. Now this room (if it exists), might have airflow, but Amelia knows to not trust “it should” or “it does”. So she pumped the brakes to make sure they lived to see what may or may not be in there.
Until next week, stay safe out there.
Joe
© 2025 E.M. di V. - writing as Morgan A. Drake & Joe Gillis. All rights reserved.