by Gloria Gay
CHAPTER 7
“Time travel,” said Jestyn, “You must agree with me that there has never been an instance of actual proven time travel. Has there been one in your time?” Jane could see that Jestyn was extremely interested in this and believed all she had said to him. She realized that the more time she spent with him the more attracted she became to him. That he belonged to another era was a cruel joke.
“No,” Jane responded. Time travel is just a wish in our time. No one has ever accomplished it. But that doesn’t keep people from writing novels about it. I still find it hard to believe you’re real, Jestyn. I feel as though I will wake up from this and find it was all a dream.” Her hand instinctively went to the pendant that hung from her neck. She was protective of it. The pendant had brought her here; the pendant would take her back. She was certain of it, yet how? And in what manner was this to be accomplished?
Jestyn’s smile at her words was very appealing. Jane felt a stirring in her loins as she gazed at the blue eyes and dark hair of Jestyn in the flesh rather than his portrait. It was incredible that she was speaking to the young man who had posed for the portrait she had been so much drawn to. And she was surprised how much she wanted to feel his lips on hers!
Jane would have been surprised had she known his thoughts were the same as hers. She realized they had moved closer to each other as they talked. He had pulled his chair closer to her bed and she had pulled forward in the bed. She pulled back a little. She wasn’t going to set her heart up for heartbreak a second time.
“You also said you went on a tour of my house,” Jestyn said, jerking Jane back from unsettling thoughts and feelings.
“Yes. But we’re talking about your house in the year 2015. The National Trust, an institution that manages historical buildings, is in charge of it. But there is something I must tell you. During the first and second tours it was disclosed in the pamphlet they give out to tourists that you and Cedric died at the hands of highwaymen on returning from a masquerade ball!”
“What was the date on which that happened,” Jestyn asked.
“April 17, 1803, Jestyn.”
Jestyn and Jane looked deeply into each other’s eyes.
“Yesterday, April 17,” said Jestyn.
“The date was printed on the tour brochure. I remembered the date because April 18 is my friend, Cybil’s birthday and I had written a note to myself to buy her a birthday gift…”
“Did the pamphlet describe the area where it happened?” Jestyn asked.
“Yes, I remember it because of the name of the bridge, it’s a name that sticks in your mind – It was Mystic Bridge.”
“Jane,” Jestyn said slowly, “you flashed that lantern at my carriage a few feet from Mystic Bridge.”
After a long silence, Jestyn said: “Could it be that you were sent to the past to save Cedric and me?”
“The pamphlet said that the attack occurred near a large rock a few feet before the entrance to the bridge,” Jane said, her voice strained.
“There’s a large rock by the entrance to Mystic Bridge near where you tried to stop my carriage,” Jestyn said. “And there’s no rock on the other side of the bridge.
“I believe Ced and I owe you our lives.”
Jestyn shook his head and for a while they quietly pondered this.
Then Jestyn broke the silence. “Tell me more about the estate as it is in your time.”
“Well, in the latter part of the nineteenth century the estate had been in disrepair while the bankers and lawyers wrangled as to who the heirs were.
“During the decades that followed it was turned into a museum, a bank, a school. At the end of the nineteenth century, the management of your house was taken over by the National Trust and its rightful history was restored. The portraits of your family were recovered from a bank vault and much of the furniture that was still in the house, squirreled away in the attics, was placed back in the rooms.”
“I had been in England a few days when this happened, Jestyn. I had hardly shaken off the dust from the airport…”
“Airport?”
From her purse, Jane took out her airline stub and ticket jacket, where there was a picture of an American Airlines jet, and leaning over to Jestyn she explained the picture.
“This is an airplane. The airplane flies in the air much like a long carriage with wings and it lands at the airport. It carries a great many passengers.”
“Good Lord!”
Jestyn stared at the picture of the airplane for a long time.
“I am as astounded to being in the past as you are by seeing these things from the future,” Jane said. “I have never thought it possible to go to the past. Who would?
“Why did you come to Lydford with your mother when you were fourteen?”
My parents were born in England and Mom was pregnant with me when they moved to the United States and became citizens. When I decided to come here to Lydford, I did so because I felt it connected me in a way to my mother. I had always wanted to return and touch your portrait again. I felt it was a way to take me away from disquieting thoughts. You see, I had just recently lost both my parents in an accident and shortly after had broken my engagement.”
“Engagement?”
“Yes, my – uh – betrothal.”
“When I woke up and rather than being in Lydford touching your painting I was lying on a dirt road, I was astounded. I had a very eerie feeling, besides,” Jane went on. “I wondered if it was a troupe staging events for tourists.
“In fact, as I pondered my situation, looking around with my flashlight, I tried to make sense of it and couldn’t. I wondered if the tour people had sprayed me with a mist that made me lose consciousness or given Cybil and me something in our tea when we weren’t looking in order to rob us.
“Then I heard the sound of horses’ hooves and saw your carriage in the distance--and you know what happened next. Without thinking too clearly I wanted to stop your carriage. I needed for someone to tell me what was going on!
“And now that I find that is not so, I really wish I had been robbed and made to believe I was in another time. That at least I could deal with rather than being stuck in the past! ”
“Are you afraid you might not be able to return to your time?” Jestyn asked with great concern. He appeared worried that Jane might be trapped, as she feared, unable to return to the time she came from.
“Jestyn, the only connection I have to the moment I left my time is this pendant. This pendant, I think, holds the secret of my being able to go back to my time. Will you help me?”
“I will do everything in my power, Jane. But why do you believe I might be able to help you? You seem to know more about all this than I do.”
“Because this pendant was in your hand in the portrait, Jestyn. When you posed for the portrait, do you remember having it in your hand?”
“No, I am certain I did not have your pendant with me. May I see it?”
“Sure.” Jane removed the chain from around her neck from which hung the stone and handed it to Jestyn.
Jestyn took the pendant and stared intently at it for a while.
“Well, it’s as strange to me as if I looked at it for the first time,” he said.
“All my troubles started the moment I saw the pendant in your hand.” Jane laughed nervously. “It just drew me toward it and I touched your hand and felt it warm against mine!”
“I can assure you that I have never seen this pendant before, but if in your time you saw it in my hand, there must be a reference to it in my time. The answer might be in the journals of the estate and if not that, then we will seek out the artist that painted the portrait. Jane, I want to do everything in my power to help you return to your time.”
“Thank you, Jestyn. You’re right, the clue might lie with your ancestors. I must believe in something. I cannot live without hope, locked in the past!”
“Even though I’m certain I did not pose with it that does not mean that it was never pa
inted on the portrait,” Jestyn assured Jane. There must be a connection between that pendant and my estate. Perhaps we can find proof that the pendant was taken from my house, unbeknownst to us.”
“I hope so, Jestyn,” Jane said. “You’re my only hope of returning to my time!”
“I’m very glad you saw the pendant in my portrait, because otherwise I would not have met you, and you came back to save Cedric and me. But I realize that what you want most is to return to your time,” he added with a smile. “I will do everything in my power to help you. We will devise a plan, a plan that may give you hope of returning. I, too, want what is best for you. Although I would love for you to remain here I know you could never be as happy as you are in your own time.
“There are family journals in the library,” Jestyn said. “I don’t think those journals have been opened in decades. We may find reference of the pendant in one of them.
“I’m also very intrigued by all that you have shown me and what you have told me,” Jestyn added, “Nothing in my world can be of any surprise to you, since it is all in your history books. However, everything about your world is new and wondrous to me. You are new and wondrous. Had you arrived from the moon I would not have been more surprised. You are beautiful, besides.
“The more you tell me about the future the more it intrigues me. It would be amazing for me if I could visit it, at least for a short time.”
“All this is as new to me as my time would be to you,” Jane said. “I can hardly believe it. The experience of going back to the past is something that doesn’t lose its newness. I feel as though I am in the set of a movie that doesn’t end!”
“A what?” Jestyn was constantly puzzled at Jane’s words and expressions.
“A motion picture similar to the video clip I showed you in the cell phone; except motion pictures are a lot larger. They are similar to the plays you go to the theater to see, but they are just the images captured and shown on a screen.”
“That seems like magic to me,” said Jestyn.
“Are there any great historical events approaching at this time that are of importance to England?” he asked. “Our country has just declared war on France. Will it last long?”
“Many years of battles will follow, I’m afraid,” Jane said.
“Yes, I can believe that,” said Jestyn. “We must put a stop to Napoleon’s advance. He has us in his sights as the largest prize. I don’t know how he even manages to have the whole of France behind him in his criminal course. Intrigue in France is now as common as air. They say it’s dangerous to even to go to the baker’s.”
“A great leader rises to lead England to victory: Arthur Wellesley, the first Duke of Wellington,
“And how many years will the war last?” Jestyn’s voice was now tense.
“It’s hard to say exactly, with so many coalitions made and un-made” Jane said, trying to recall her college history. “I think it ends around 1815.”
“Will my country prevail?” Jestyn asked after a few moments of silence.
“Yes, it will, with the great battle of Waterloo,” Jane assured him. “But is it right for you to know these things?”
CHAPTER 8
“If you fear I will feel duty bound to inform the King or anyone else in government about this, you needn’t be concerned. Not only would I be thought of as a lunatic and put away, but in the chance in a million they would believe me, I would have interfered with the normal flow of history. Who knows, I might even cause worse catastrophes to befall us. No, Jane, better let things be as they will.”
“Very wise of you, Jestyn. In my time, there would be plenty of people who would want to take advantage, to buy stock, or whatever.”
A long silence ensued. Finally, Jestyn spoke.
“Yet you did disrupt my and Cedric’s murder.”
“What could it mean, Jestyn? Why was I able to do that?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps when you felt the warmth of my hand you felt a portent of what was to come. You said that Cedric and I were accosted by highwaymen beyond the bridge. Well, we turned back because of the accident you caused with your light and went back to Halensford’s house.”
“Then, for whatever reason,” said Jane. “I’m very glad I caused you to return to Lord Halensford’s estate.”
There was a sudden silence between them as they gazed at each other. Then Jestyn spoke.
“Please remember not to call me by my given name, when we are with the staff or in company, Jane. You have already aroused a lot of suspicion with your clothing. I have tried to explain away your clothing and manner of speaking by telling them you are from the Colonies, but I can tell they don’t really believe me.
“Well, I trust that together we might find a way for me to return to my time. If I came here then I can go back – through the same gate or whatever it was that opened up and sent me here, Jestyn.”
“Gate?”
“Gates or portals are what they call them in fiction. Time travel in my time only exists in fiction, Jestyn. That was why it took a lot to convince me that I was no longer in my time but had shifted into another era. A lot of books have been written about people going back to the past or on to the future across fictional ‘gates’. Hopefully, that fiction had some basis in truth and that there may actually have been real cases of people going back in time. We must find the way for me to leave your age. I’m convinced the answer lies in the pendant. Since the pendant brought me here, it must also have the power to take me back, if we can only find the clue that connects our pendant with that “gate” or whatever it is.”
“We shall look through the family’s diaries and journals, and we will find it,” he assured her. “We must have faith we can accomplish it together.
“The doctor has said you must remain here at least a week; you can’t leave your bed for three days. Please agree to abide by the doctor’s orders.” There was an earnest look in Jestyn’s eyes that made Jane smile warmly at him.
“Tell me more about your time, the future,” he asked with boyish eagerness that was most appealing to Jane. She was alarmed at how attracted she was becoming to the real version of Jestyn Greywick. And she could feel the same attraction toward her in him. Sadly, that road led nowhere.
Jane took her bag and dumped the contents of it on the bed.
“Here are the keys I use to drive my car, Jestyn. Are there any keys in your time that resemble these? And this cardkey is the key to my hotel.”
“A card for a key? How does it work?”
“You insert the card in a slot at the door and an electronic “eye” reads it. A tiny green light flashes, opening the door at the same time and you turn the handle and push the door as it opens. Not everything is opened by cardkeys, though. Regular keys are still used in most things. But hotels and some companies, at least, have adopted them.”
“Amazing! And what do these other more normal-looking keys open?”
Greywick handled the keys in wonder, turning them over in his hand.”
“This key is used to turn on the motor of an automobile – a horseless carriage, driven by fuel – gasoline, or as the English refer to it, petrol.”
Jestyn handled the keys for a long time, turning them this way and that.
“This is my driver’s license,” said Jane, handing him her license.
Jestyn ran his fingers over the license.
“Amazing,” he said. “Is this miniature painting of you?” Jestyn gazed at Jane’s photo.
“It’s a photograph, not a painting,” said Jane, leaning over to look at the photo with him. “This photo was taken with the camera that’s inside my cell phone. Here, I’ll show you. Look into the camera and smile. Jestyn did so and Jane took his photo. She then showed it to him.”
Jestyn shook his head as he gazed at his photo. “I shudder to think what would happen if anyone got a hold of this. You must remove that painting – uh – photograph of me from it. It would endanger you. People would think you’re trying to put a
hex on me. They explain anything that scares them or they cannot understand as ‘magic’ or sorcery. Witches and sorcerers are still persecuted.”
“I’ll erase it, Jestyn, if it makes you feel better,” Jane said, and showed him after she had erased his photo. She knew that no average person in town would be able to access that photo. They didn’t even have the bare basic skill to do so. They would be so afraid of technology they wouldn’t come near it with a ten-foot pole. Besides, if in the future she longed to see what Jestyn looked like in real life, she would be able to dig it out of the erased file. There was always a way to do so. But if it reassured him to have her erase his photo she would gladly do so now.
Jane went on digging in her large hand bag, “Oh, here’s a letter from a friend. Look, Jestyn, it has the date from the Post Office on it–see the year? 2015. And here is a receipt for a MasterCard purchase – again with a 2015 date.”
Jestyn took the letter and the receipt and stared at them, shaking his head.
Jane then handed him a credit card. Jestyn took it and ran his thumb over the engraved numbers. “This material–”
“Plastic,” answered Jane, “it’s a by-product of oil or other materials like carbon. And here is my recorder. I was recording my visit to see your portrait again,” said Jane as she pressed the button of the recorder. They both listened to Jane’s voice in the recorder.
“This is incredible! May I see the picture of the airplane again?”
“How do they go, these machines?” Greywick asked when Jane handed him the ticket sheath.
“They fly, like birds. They are large, streamlined cars made of metal that rise in the air. People travel in them. They are nothing like the first inventions of the airplane.”
“But, how do they rise in the air?”
“I know very little about it. I vaguely remember a high school teacher’s explanation that went something like this: the airplane gets in the air first by speeding on the runway against the wind. The pilot guides the movable flaps the airplane has on the tail and wings in order to aid the lift. Once it’s airborne, the airplane catches airstreams in the atmosphere that allow it to kind of surf these as would a surfer.