A House Out of Time
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Book III of the Time Travel Diaries
of
James Urquhart and Elizabeth Bicester
Copyright 2016 Bruce Macfarlane
Aldwick Publishing
www.aldwickpublishing.com
All rights reserved.
Dedication
To my Wife Julia
Contents
Dedication
Preface
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Other books by this author
About the Author
Preface
Here is the third book from the Time Travel Diaries of James Urquhart, minor science lecturer and occasional rambler, living in 2016’ and Elizabeth Bicester, lady of leisure of Hamgreen Lodge whom he stumbles upon at a cricket match in 1873.
In these extracts we find the intrepid couple have ‘retired’ to a life of ease in a new time-world in 2016 after helping the Martians save the Earth and their own planet. Unfortunately, after a while Elizabeth thought it would be a good idea to visit her ancestral home at Hamgreen to see what had become of it.
….Such is the curiosity of women.
Acknowledgements
Images & Illustrations.
Art work and photographs by author using digital manipulation PicsArt for Android and PaintShop Pro.
Book Cover:
Author’s own photo of sunset with PicsArt
Chapter 2 depiction of the house out of time -Old House, Cornwall
Chapter 4 The time capsule – Sculpture and Gordale Scar, Yorkshire
Chapter 7 “The Edge of Time”
Chapter 9 Depiction of Martian. Gargoyle – Wells Cathedral
Chapter 10 Sculpture West Dean plus Author’s own sunrise photo
Chapter 11 Martian spaceship plus Moon using PaintShop Pro
Chapter 12 Visigoth Church, Asturias
Chapter 14 North York Moors and carriage
Chapter 1
E
This new world which James and I share is a delight. He is back in his beloved college and I have a pleasurable occupation lecturing on, and helping to design, Victorian fashions.
Although there are many great upheavals in the world as we try to save our planets, everyone appears to be united in the belief that we have only two precious worlds and to survive we must look after them and each other. I sincerely hope we are in a time line where we can make it. The fact that the Martians are here with their ability to glimpse into the future gives me faith in this.
However, despite the comforts we enjoyed I found myself often drawn by the proximity of my home at Hamgreen to pay a visit and find out who resided there. Perhaps I had mentioned this too often to James using what he calls, rather unfairly, persistent repetition, for this morning just after breakfast he surprised me by offering to take me there. I agreed immediately.
"There's just one thing, though," he said, "I've been thinking about it as well and I've just spent a bit of time looking it up."
I had noticed while we were waiting for the tea to brew James had been studiously playing with his phone with a puzzled expression upon his face but I had presumed that, as usual, he was absorbed in understanding a new scientific wonder. Such studies would often keep him amused for an hour or so and were accompanied by much scribbling and mutterings followed by an excited presentation of his conclusions to which I always tried to convey a visage of considerable interest and understanding. On this occasion there was no need to affect such an expression. I ran over to him to examine his phone.
"What does it say?" For I wished to know what happened to my family.
"Nothing. It has no history. In fact, it's not even there!"
I did not understand. "Is there nothing? Not even a map or picture?"
"No."
"So in this world my home does not exist?"
"I didn't say that."
I looked into his eyes. I could see he was thinking the same as me. A distraction of a visit had become a necessity.
I came close and whispered, "Shall I pack the 'full gear' as you call it?"
"Yes, and don't forget those red stockings," he said putting his arm around my waist. I responded as expected.
"Why? Do you wish to wear them, James? I do not think you will look very fetching."
We quickly collected, or should I say I packed, what we needed including a selection of late Victorian clothes in case we entered my world again. James diplomatically decided to leave this to me and went for his carriage as he had come to realise through a number of rather embarrassing experiences that on the question of Victorian fashion I had an advantage.
He had bought a new leaf green, electric vehicle containing four red upholstered seats which he had purchased for a song at a railway auction. He thought they would remind me of my own time and indeed I found their comfort on long journeys did make me wish for a modern seat designed by someone who had some understanding of a lady’s posture. It was also fitted with a large luggage space at the rear which James said he thought, rather cheekily I must say, was sufficient even for my expectations. I have often wondered how lightly men travel but I have come to realise it is only possible if they have some dependence on another such as a dutiful lady companion to provide any items which they had not thought necessary on departure.
Once James had loaded the car and managed to close the lid with a little effort after removing the luggage twice and repacking it, we made ourselves as comfortable as possible in the carriage and fitted the harnesses. James examined the guidance system. In this world vehicles drove themselves and a manual operation was only required if a destination was not available.
"That's weird. Hamgreen doesn't exist on the GPS." he said, "Oh dear, I'll have to drive it myself."
He had the look of small boy with a new toy.
After various near shaves accompanied by minor expletives by James on the skills of other road users and a rather unfair remark on my map reading at one point, not to mention the horn blowing from passing carriages we arrived a little dishevelled at Hamgreen late in the afternoon.
My suggestion that as the guidance system contained our home address and therefore would not require manual intervention on our return was met with a little disappointment by James though he cheered up on my reminding him of his dexterity in avoiding a bus and wagon coming towards us on what turned out to be a one-way street.
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J.
I must admit my driving was a little rusty though Elizabeth was good enough not to comment too much. However, on two rather hairy occasions she did grab my arm rather tightly. She also appeared to have her eyes closed on much of the journey. This I'm sure led to the small altercation just outside Chichester on map reading and my misunderstanding of the directions 'left' and 'my other left'. The later apparently is Victorian for "turn right" and should be obvious to anyone with a modicum of sense.
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E.
We arrived at my home a little after three o'clock in the afternoon. A hundred years had passed since I'd last seen it and I felt a certain sense of foreboding for out of the corner of my eye as we turned off the road I saw, perched upon the remaining stone gate pillar, one of the familiar small winged creatures. James saw it too and we had a whispered conversation about its portent. B
ut when I looked again it had vanished. They always seemed to be with us, like guardians, although if they were, I did not understand their purpose.
We passed through the gate and drove slowly on to the gravelled courtyard. As we alighted from James' carriage the sun momentarily hid behind a cloud and my flesh felt a dampness in the warm summer air causing me to pull my shawl tightly across my shoulders. As I stood there I saw the old Lodge with the eyes of my childhood and absorbed its familiarity but then my maturity espied a certain neglect. It needed a coat of paint on the windows, a lime wash on the ashlar facade, and the gutters cleared of weeds, yet around the porch there was evidence of someone caring for the flowers.
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J.
The Martian was sitting almost motionlessly on the gate pillar. I had learnt to watch them out of the corner of my eye for if they saw you looking at them directly they often vanished. This one seemed to be gazing intently towards the lodge. I could see its wings, if that's what they were, gently fluttering or shimmering. But as I turned to Elizabeth and pointed towards it, the creature faded from view.
*What's it doing here?" she whispered.
"I don't know. We've not seen them near us since Newgrange. I wouldn’t be surprised if we're heading for another time split."
"Then we must stay close to each other. But be careful as we cross the gate, James. It may be a portal."
This brought me to my senses. I drove the car through the gate slowly, Elizabeth holding my arm. I felt no change. I looked behind and was reassured to see a car drive past the entrance along the road. We continued up the tree lined drive over a carpet of dying autumn red and orange leaves. It was enchantment itself but before I knew it we emerged into the gravelled court yard of the Lodge. I looked around. Everything seemed normal. Just another old dilapidated Georgian house buried in the woods of Sussex.
I parked the car in the centre of the courtyard and got out. Elizabeth took my hand and we walked towards the entrance. Although I’d visited Elizabeth’s house many times it was the first time I had really looked at its style and structure. The main porch was guarded by two Georgian pillars with very worn copies of Roman capitals almost hidden by the leaves of the Virginia creeper which had taken over much of the front wall. But the door frame, instead of fitting in with the eighteenth century fashion, was rounded in the Romanesque style. The studded wooden door was distinctly Medieval. At the bottom of the left pillar was a rather worn oval recess about six inches deep and underneath were some scratch marks which looked vaguely like letters. I said, "Do you know what this is?"
"No. I have always presumed a piece had been broken, perhaps by a carriage."
I bent down to have a look at the markings. I thought I could just make out V, Q or O and T. I drew her attention to it. She looked perplexed.
"Mmh. That is strange. I had not noticed that before. Maybe the servants or perhaps the scribblings of an ancestral child."
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E
On the approach to the door I sought and held James' hand for we were too aware that this place had been a time node and my fear of separation at such places always welled up in me. I sensed the same in James by the tightness of his grasp. The markings James had found were a mystery for I had lived here for most of my life and I am sure I would have noticed them. But as we stood up and mounted the stone steps to the door I heard the sound of bolts being withdrawn and the turning of keys. I held my breath waiting to see who resided in my home. The door slowly opened and revealed a blank grey translucent wall! I let out a small cry for first a hand then a lady’s dress appeared through the dark surface and then, there was my sister Flory standing in the porch. She did not look a day older than when I had left her after our visit to our father in 1873.
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Chapter 2
E.
We stood before my sister Flory in the court yard. At first I thought I saw fear in her eyes but it was merely the shock of recognition. "Oh, it is you, Elizabeth! Where is Father? Is he not with you?"
This was unexpected. We said we had not seen him since we last visited.
"So if you have not met him what brought you here?"
It was sometime since our last visit to my home. I could not recall the date but I remember it was full summer in 1873. I surmised therefore, that if we had arrived back in the same year, for Flory it was at least two months since we had last met. I held that thought and said, "It was a whim, Flory. I just wanted to see our home again."
I noticed her eyes were glancing up and down the drive. I wondered what she was looking for.
I said, "What is the matter, Flory? What can you see?"
"It is so different out here. The autumn colours have changed and it so warm as if summer has returned."
I heard James exclaim under his breath and squeeze my hand sharply. I realised a time portal was located within the doorway.
Flory, sensing our concern, came close to me and regarding our clothes whispered, "Have you come from the future?”
I said, “Yes and no. I cannot explain it but we believe we are in the future. We did not expect to find you here. We only wanted to find out what happened to you and our home.”
This I could see perplexed her for a moment then her eyes widened. “Oh, now I understand what has happened. This door has become a portal across time. You must come in quickly, both of you. I am not myself out here but be warned, inside it is early winter. Henry has the fire on in the drawing room."
We entered the hall. It was exactly as I had left it when we said goodbye to my father but the temperature had dropped alarmingly! Between outside and here there was evidently a time slip! I turned to the door and saw it shimmer and as she closed it I thought I glimpsed an autumn scene.
"Flory, what has happened? And what year is it here?"
Her words came tumbling out mixed with the emotion of fear.
“It is 1873. We were in our own world until a month ago then one morning I went out to the gate as usual with Lilly to collect the milk. The weather was unaccountably hot for late autumn. When we reached the gate there was no milk churn. Lilly said she would go up to the farm but just as we approached the road we were nearly run over by one of those contraptions of James!"
“Did it stop?” said James.
“We did not wait to find out. We ran as fast as we could back into the Lodge and told Henry. He did not believe us at first and went to see for himself. He quickly came back confirming what we had seen.”
"What did you do? It must have been frightening.”
"Yes, it was! Henry, poor brave man, decided to ride to the next village. I was not keen on this and wished to go with him but he refused my offer and said I must stay. However, I got him to agree to take Smethers and suggested they take the green road as from my experience in your time the carriages of James’ world are rarely seen there.”
I understood. I remembered due to another unaccountable error in map reading, for whom the responsibility has still not been quite resolved in one party’s view, James and I found ourselves in such a lane after what should have been a simple excursion to Stoughton. The farmer was very obliging with his tractor in rescuing us and so was James the next day in Chichester with a purchase of a new pair of evening shoes.
But to return to the subject. I asked Flory what had she discovered.
“Oh dear. I can hardly bring myself to tell you. They came across a group of strangely clad people with knapsacks who told them to give way. Henry was furious. He ordered them to get off his land and then chased half a dozen of them across a field. He then proceeded to the Farm, except…"
Flory had stopped speaking and covered her lips with her hand. I encouraged her to continue.
“Very well. But please believe us. He found the farm was not there! Just the ruins of the cow shed. This, he admitted, unnerved him and fearing for my safety returned to the Lodge.”
James said, “He shoul
dn't feel too bad. Faced with that I would have legged it as well.”
"But that is not all!" said Flory, “That evening there was a loud knock at the door. We both opened it. At first we saw nothing then Henry went for his gun and as we crossed the threshold we saw a strange carriage with a flashing blue light and a strangely uniformed man and a woman in trousers! They claimed they were police constables and they looked very nervous."
“I’m not surprised,” said James, “Seeing you two materialise through a blank wall must have frightened the hell out of them.”
"Be that as it may. They reprimanded us severely for chasing people across a field. I can tell you it took some effort to dissuade Henry from using his shotgun and to persuade him to offer an abject apology. But enough. Please come and see him. He is out of his time and at a loss. And Elizabeth, please cover yourself."
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J.
Having visited many old Georgian National Trust houses put back into the style of their origins I'd forgotten how much the Victorians had changed them. Gone was that airy Jane Austen look. Instead every space seemed to be utilised. There was hardly a place on the heavy, dark wooden, sideboards which wasn't cluttered with porcelain, and upturned glass jars of dead flowers and animals. The large round table in the centre with its massive lion feet was draped in a cover which I'm sure was thicker than my carpet at home and was covered in books, paper and pens. Between the dark crimsoned, peacock patterned, curtains a soft light came through the window which had just enough strength to give some illumination to most of the room. In the far corner below what looked like a number of ancestral portraits, all of which suggested that eating game pie was the only meal of choice, I noticed the obligatory upright piano. Except this one was covered in sheets of music suggesting at least someone in the house took an interest in it. The main feature though was the distinctly un-Victorian fire-place which would have found a welcome home in a castle keep. I remembered one windy winter night its ability to blow hot embers onto the blackened hearth rug and direct the heat anywhere but into the room had occupied much of the conversation.
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