Belmary House 4

by Cassidy Cayman

  With a sigh, she pulled herself back toward the desk. One more page.

  Chapter 10

  Dread struck Tilly the moment the cold wore away. Once again she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a grave error in judgment. How could she have stepped so blithely into the portal? The fact that it opened the moment she walked in the room should have been forbidding enough, and the sudden thought that the house had it out for her froze her to the spot. She reached out to where she knew there would be the window, and shaking off the last of the travel headache, opened her eyes.

  She wasn’t in 1814. The room was all wrong, too fancy and fussy. Pushing away her regret, she sighed with relief that it clearly wasn’t 1644 again and there were no bloodcurdling screams or low, terrifying sobs coming from down the hall. She’d had enough of that for ten lifetimes. She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, glad to see there were no cameras keeping track of her, and a quick perusal of the walls showed no electricity, either. She couldn’t yet decide if this was a good or a bad thing.

  The doorknob turned and she rolled to the other side of the bed, dropping to the floor and scooting under it, pleased to find it was clean and free of dust bunnies. She’d nearly choked to death in the horror time, hiding and trying to keep silent so whatever fiends lived there wouldn’t discover her.

  God, she really needed to figure out what was wrong with Ashford’s family if she ever made it back to him. Perhaps it would be for the best if they didn’t have children. The thought caused her a sharp pang and she edged closer to the bedskirts to try and peek out just as a hand pulled it away, revealing her hiding place with a victorious yelp.

  “I knew it,” a familiar voice said. “I told you I felt it opening, even from downstairs. Miss Jacobs, it is delightful to see you.”

  Thomas Adkins reached under the bed to help her out and she scrambled to her feet to hug him. Taking his face in her hands so she could study him to make sure he wasn’t hurt, she babbled, “Thomas, you can’t know how happy I am to see you. Are you hurt? How did you get in here? How long have you been here? Are you hungry? I have some food in my bag, let me get it for you.”

  He disentangled himself, his cheeks bright red from her fluttering attention. “I must say, Miss Jacobs, I can know how happy you feel, as I feel much the same.” He stopped her from furiously rummaging in her bag. “That’s quite all right, we’ve just eaten some lovely roast chicken. In fact, you should come down with us and have some as well.”

  Her mind reeled at his calm words. If he wasn’t in their proper time, shouldn’t he have been hiding out? She noticed he was clean, not a speck of grime on him, and looked far neater than he usually did, without anything wrinkled or hanging askew. Even his glasses perched evenly on the bridge of his thin nose. He looked well-rested and goodness gracious, had he gained weight? When she’d been wrestling rats for a moldy crust of bread, he was apparently living the good life in this mysterious time.

  She realized they weren’t alone in the room and she blinked in confusion to find Thomas tugging a young woman forward to meet her. She looked a mix of sullen and wary, there was deep-rooted fear in her hazel eyes, and a yellowing bruise beside one of them. Her scraped back brown hair matched her clothes, which were clean but ill-fitting, gaping slightly at the bodice and hanging loosely around her bony elbows, where Tilly saw another aging bruise, this one clearly showing finger marks where she’d been roughly grabbed.

  “Have you made a friend, Thomas?” she asked, more confused than ever.

  The girl bobbed a clumsy curtsy as Thomas introduced her as Farrah Lawson.

  “The portal has been just mad,” he continued. “It’s opened at least six times since I arrived here but wouldn’t let me in any of them, and get this, Miss Jacobs, Farrah here popped out three weeks ago. It hasn’t let her through again, either.”

  “Whoa, wait, you’re from another time as well?” Tilly had to sit down, she was so thrown by this news. Guilt and fresh worries assailed her as she wrung her hands, unable to look up at them. “Oh, what did I do?”

  “We’ve never really understood how it works,” Thomas said soothingly. “It might not have been your fault at all. Perhaps it was never really closed properly.” He didn’t look like he believed what he was saying, but she appreciated the effort.

  With a sigh, she asked what year Farrah had come from.

  “From 1984,” she said after a slight pause. “I guess that’s about when you’re from as well?” She didn’t look happy about it, as if Tilly might know her somehow.

  “No, that’s before I was born, but definitely closer than this, I’m sure. I’ve watched plenty of movies from that time. We’ll get you back, I swear it,” Tilly told her, stomach heaving at what she’d done.

  If she ever made it back to Ashford he’d be justified in never speaking to her again. He’d have to start searching for portal victims, getting them back to their proper times, when he thought he’d finally been freed from that life.

  “It’s quite all right,” she said, nose slightly in the air. “I don’t care if I never go back.”

  Thomas grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze and Tilly notice her stiffen but she didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to go back, Farrah. Mrs. Hedley’s already said you’re welcome here if we can’t make it back to my time.”

  Tilly was further astounded by this manly display from Thomas and shook her head, wondering if the bruises had something to do with why Farrah didn’t want to go back to her own time, or if it was Thomas himself. That set something off in her, like a motherly protective instinct. At that precise moment, she didn’t know much, but she knew in her heart that Farrah wasn’t good enough for sweet Thomas.

  “What year are we in?” she asked wearily, thinking that was something she’d be able to understand.

  “1889,” Thomas answered promptly. “The servants here know about us, they’re great admirers of our Lord Ashford and have been treating us exceedingly well. So, we can move about fairly freely. The current Lord Ashford is a bit of a useless sot, begging your pardon Miss Jacobs.”

  “Why are you begging my pardon for the current lord?” she asked, rubbing her temple. The pain was gone but her head still felt like it was spinning.

  Thomas colored to the roots of his floppy, light brown hair and blinked several times before answering. “Well, I suppose I was assuming that he was related to you, since, er, your cousin told me you and our Lord Ashford— which would mean this one was your—” Thomas paused to do math in his head. “Perhaps your great-grandchild?”

  “Oh merciful heavens, I thought they were only horrible before Julian. Is it just a bad bloodline?”

  “Certainly not,” Thomas said, deeply offended on his master’s behalf. “A few bounders over the course of hundreds of years, that’s bound to be normal, right?”

  “I suppose so,” she agreed. “I hope so, anyway. We’re still too far forward, but I’m glad we’re together at least. And if you say it’s safe here ...”

  Though she was trying to be positive, she was so disappointed she would have cried if Farrah wasn’t staring at her with those suspicious eyes. She was also tired to her bones. She’d gone from a time that was dangerous and frightening to Dex’s time that was safe but unwelcoming. If they were accepted here and out of harm’s way, they could make a life. She wouldn’t burden anyone with her failures, and they wouldn’t have to worry about their safety. That was something at least.

  Thomas must have seen her slowly mentally giving up. “You belong in 1814,” he said in a rush of passion. “Miss Jacobs, you do want to go back, don’t you? Lord Ashford is very sorry for his part in the misunderstanding, I’m sure of it, as he’s promised to have my hide if I don’t bring you back. And of course, I want you to go back as well. Not just because of my hide, you see. He’s better with you than without you, much kinder.”

  Tilly almost snorted at that, as she’d never seen Ashford treat Thomas very nicely when she’d been around, but then
again he’d been pretty unpleasant to her in the beginning, too. It hadn’t stopped her from falling hopelessly in love with him. Ashford was rigid sometimes because of his circumstances, but in his heart, and when he was able to relax and stop worrying about everything, he could be downright delightful. She guessed Thomas was able to see that side of him enough to have become so fiercely loyal as he was.

  “I do want to get back,” she assured him. “But if the portal won’t take us—”

  As if to taunt her, a sudden drop in temperature signaled the damn thing opening again. They looked at one another, wide-eyed with terror, until Thomas resolutely grabbed both their hands and tugged them toward the corner. Tilly almost screamed a protest. Was he insane? They needed to discuss this, think it through. She’d barely come out and needed a second to catch her breath. She got shoved roughly into the wall and closed her eyes, waiting for the odd sensation of getting swallowed up in time. It never came and after a moment, Thomas swore, then quickly begged her pardon.

  “We’ll keep trying,” he said, clearly trying to keep up morale, though Tilly could see how frustrated he was.

  “Does it feel like it might be toying with us?” Tilly asked, not caring how paranoid she sounded. “Or with me? Why’d it bring me here but not let me in just now?”

  “You’re the one who messed about with it in the first place, aren’t you?” Farrah asked in such a manner it made Tilly want to defend herself, but she knew she had no defense as it was a completely true statement.

  She knew the girl probably wasn’t being snide, just offering up a hypothesis, but it unaccountably hurt her feelings. She’d grown used to everyone kow-towing to her as the soon-to-be lady of the manor and forgot what good old-fashioned modern bluntness felt like.

  “I could try and force it open with the spell I used when I … left. It let me in just fine then.” She forced herself not to scowl at Farrah’s raised eyebrow of disdain.

  “If you’ll forgive me, I don’t think that’s wise,” Thomas said, giving the corner of the room a truly filthy look. “We don’t want to make it angrier.”

  “Okay, let’s stop assuming it has emotions,” she said. “That’s too scary to deal with right now. But we know it’s messed up, maybe to the point it’s unusable.”

  “Yes, that’s well established,” Farrah said. “It’s been opening almost nonstop for weeks now, but won’t let anyone through.”

  “There’s other ways to travel,” Tilly said forcefully, causing Thomas to gasp.

  “Do you mean the wicked spells?”

  “They’re not all wicked. That’s how Ashford and I got back last time, remember? Liam Wodge got us back.” She paced back and forth, wending her way around the two, who didn’t seem impressed with her line of thinking. “I memorized the words, but there’s some dried herbs or plants involved, and I don’t know what they are.”

  Thomas looked sheepish, his eyes darting left and right and his cheeks looking like they might explode into flames. “I know what they are,” he blurted.

  “You do? That’s great, Thomas.” Tilly squeezed his arm excitedly. This was the best news she’d heard in days. “I can’t believe Ashford let you in on something like that. In fact, I’m surprised he knew. He hates all that.”

  “Ah, well, he didn’t exactly let me in on it, as you say. I’ve learned a lot over the years using unconventional means.”

  Farrah snorted. “You snooped?”

  “And it’s a good thing you did,” Tilly hurried to assure him before he could get remorseful and not give up the information. It was clear he didn’t like the idea of using the spell, but if the portal had it out for her, they were out of options.

  “I wouldn’t get too excited,” he said. “They’re extremely rare. After you and Lord Ashford returned, I admit I was fascinated by it, even though it frightened me. I thought if we could master this other means of travel, it would make everything so much more convenient. No more waiting around on the schedule. But Lord Ashford and Mr. Povest both flatly refused to tell me anything, so I started, er, doing my own research. I found out two of the plants come from the Orient and one is so rare it only grows in a tiny area of Moldavia.”

  Her stomach sank with both disappointment and fear. Moldavia was where Kostya’s evil family hailed from, so it was likely they had their hand in developing the spell in the first place. Even though it had safely taken her through time before, that was when it was administered by someone powerful and well-practiced. She glanced at the corner again, and once again the portal fired itself up.

  They all three groaned in unison. “I hate that bloody thing,” Farrah murmured. No one jumped up, and after a moment the room temperature returned to normal. They stopped glaring at it and stared at each other dolefully.

  “I like it in this time.” Farrah plopped onto the bed and folded her arms petulantly. Thomas quickly followed her lead and perched himself on the opposite edge, both feet planted on the floor for propriety. “Why do we need to keep trying?” she whined.

  Tilly felt like she was losing control. She knew Thomas wanted to get back— he had a family who loved him and on top of that he was dedicated to Ashford and their research. But it was becoming clear to her that he was smitten with Farrah and Tilly feared he might be swayed into giving up just when he’d convinced her not to. She swallowed hard, knowing it was time to exert some Ashfordesque bossiness.

  “I am supposed to marry the Lord Ashford of 1814,” she said imperiously, trying to keep the guilt that it was all her fault from showing. “The current lord is related to me somehow, but only if I get back. If I don’t, he might cease to exist, along with everyone who comes after him. For all we know this house might end up a brothel.”

  Farrah’s face paled and she blinked rapidly, but she got herself back to her blank disdain in a hurry. “That makes no sense. He’s here right now, how can he just disappear? Everything’s fine the way it is.”

  Tilly wanted to strangle her, but focused on Thomas instead, hoping she could scare some sense into him. “That presupposes that I get back in time and marry Ashford and we have the necessary children to warrant this cozy existence.”

  “She’s right,” Thomas said. “There’s too much we don’t know about time travel to risk not trying to get back.” His voice rose. “In fact, I don’t think we have any other choice but to succeed or everything we know might disappear.”

  Tilly hadn’t meant to scare him that badly, and his agitation made her heart race with a newfound desperation. A minute ago she’d only wanted to get back to secure her own happiness, but her impassioned speech made her realize the time crunch they were under.

  “I can get your plants,” Farrah said after a tense moment of silence. She shrugged when Tilly and Thomas looked at her agog. “I know a guy.”

  ***

  Tilly sat in the kitchen, eating a piece of roast chicken and trying to keep the savory juices from dripping onto her newly acquired day dress. As usual, she was enamored by the beauty and intricacy of it, way more ruffles and frills than the Regency era gowns she’d grown used to. The dark navy silk and tiny seed pearl trims were stunning, and even though she was packed into it to the point she could barely swallow a bite, she was grateful the servants had been able to get it for her so quickly. The housekeeper, Mrs. Hedley, bustled about, offering her bread and jam and a plate of fresh fruit. She had wrapped her in a massive motherly hug when she found out who Tilly was.

  “I can’t believe I have the great pleasure of meeting our dear Lord Ashford’s one and only,” she’d said, wiping tears from her eyes.

  Tilly had glanced at Thomas, who shook his head slightly. Apparently he hadn’t told the entire story as to why they were all stranded there, and she decided to keep any confessions to herself. It felt good to have someone happy to see her after such a long time, and the woman’s positivity was infectious.

  Farrah had gone to change into something more suitable for walking and Tilly pounced on the opportunity to speak freely
with Thomas. She looked over at Mrs. Hedley, who was engrossed in sharpening a knife, and leaned across the table to speak quietly.

  “What do you know about Farrah?” she asked. “How can she know anyone in this time?”

  “The poor dear came through about three weeks ago,” Mrs. Hedley piped in without looking up from her task. “The bruises are mostly faded now, but she was purple and black on every bit of her face, and her shoulder was all out of joint. Our Robbie popped it back in for her and she’s been on the mend since. Loves to gad about town, even without a chaperone. I daresay she knows a great deal more about London than I do, and I was born here.”

  Tilly raised an eyebrow at Thomas, who shrugged. Apparently Mrs. Hedley had extremely good hearing, and her tone suggested she didn’t want anyone speaking ill about Farrah. Tilly felt a little guilty for inwardly judging her, but still something didn’t set right about her.

  “But how’d she get in the house in her own time? In that room?”

  “There was a big party that night,” Farrah said, appearing in the kitchen with her fresh walking dress on, no longer looking like a servant. Her face was resigned, as if she was used to being under suspicion. Tilly felt a blush of remorse creeping up and ducked her head toward her plate. “I was the entertainment,” she finished briskly. After a long and terribly awkward pause, she added in a dead tone, “Things got a bit out of hand. It was a rather wild party. I ran into that room to hide when their attention, ah, turned elsewhere. And now I’m here.”

  Okay, so she had been a stripper, or at worst, a prostitute and had been badly abused at some sort of hedonistic party at the house. Tilly felt worse than ever for thinking badly about her, and a new sense of guilt washed over her. Hadn’t she said she came from the early 1980s? Tilly remembered a story Dex had told her about a drunken, gambling earl from around that time. He’d sold all the paintings and replaced them with forgeries to help pay his debts. It was his fault the house had been lost from their family in the first place, and he’d successfully ended the Alexander line. Was that one of her and Ashford’s great-great-great grandchildren? If she got back, no, when she got back, she was going to have to have a serious discussion with him about their terrible progeny.