A Bridge Through Time: (Time Travel)

by Gloria Gay

  “The shields are very impressive – and so heavy looking,” said Jane. She glanced at the paneled walls and read the different plaques under the warrior shields. “Is that really Sir Walter Raleigh’s shield?”

  “Yes it is,” said Jestyn. “Mols is an ancient coffeehouse that has been here forever.”

  There was a nice view of the river and they both gazed at the water for a few moments, in silence, enjoying each other’s company. The place was almost empty.

  “Each time we are some place,” Jane said leaning toward him, “the thought that we are to go to another place after it gives me a warm feeling, like the thought that we are to go to Broderick’s next. But then I think of the time when there will not be a next place I will be going to with you. I cannot bear the grief that brings me.”

  Jestyn moved his hand closer to Jane’s so that their fingers touched, discreetly, protected by the overhanging blossoms of a low bowl of roses on the table. Sparks of pleasure quivered along Jane’s arm with the contact and she looked into Jestyn’s eyes, unshed tears making her sparkling blue eyes even brighter. Their legs, under the long tablecloth, also touched.

  “Don’t think of that for now, darling,” Jestyn said quickly and asked, “what are ices called in your time?”

  “They’re called ice cream, and there are hundreds of flavors, world-wide.”

  Would she ever drink coffee or eat ice cream in her time without recalling these moments?

  “What’s your favorite flavor?” Jestyn asked.

  “Well, I have several – chocolate, vanilla and strawberry are at the very top. But there’s hundreds of flavors now, even bacon and avocado.”

  “Even through the ages, those three hold up pretty good, don’t they?” Jestyn asked with a laugh.

  “Children love flavors like Rocky Road, Chocolate Chip, Cookie Dough…”

  “Rocky Road? I could bet that would have been a favorite with Cedric and me when we were children. What is it made of?”

  “Marshmallows, walnuts – something like that.”

  “Maybe I’ll reinvent it now and give it to my nephews and nieces as a birthday surprise.”

  “How tall is the tallest building in the world?” Jestyn asked.

  “I don’t know exactly – probably a hundred and twenty-five stories. It’s in Thailand or Malaysia. I’m not sure of that, either. Some reporter, huh?”

  “Some beautiful reporter,” Jestyn said.

  CHAPTER 14

  “I just saw Lord and Lady Millthorpe coming into the shop,” Jestyn told Jane. “It will not be possible for us to avoid them, I’m afraid. I can’t believe it’s just by luck they coincided on our journey to Exeter.

  “I don’t think it’s by chance they’re here, Jes,” Jane glanced at the entrance where the Millthorpes were speaking to a waiter. “She probably has spies reporting to her about our every move – when she’s not wrapping boxes with rats to send me.”

  “Shh,” Jestyn warned. “We cannot hint we suspect her. Be especially careful, darling.” His voice had changed so that Jane felt the tension in it. They let go of each other’s hands and moved their legs apart under the table, even though they were hidden by the tablecloth.

  The Millthorpes walked toward them. And although Jane and Jestyn had let go of each other’s hands before the Millthorpes had reached their table, the woman glanced down at their hands that were close together on the cloth.

  “Greetings, Greywick!” Wilma directed her greeting only to Jestyn.

  Jestyn stood up and kissed the air over Lady Millthorpe’s proffered hand.

  He then turned to the man: “Roswell, what a coincidence. How are you?”

  Jane stiffened as two pairs of eyes scrutinized her. She was uncertain as to how she should handle the meeting. She glanced at Jestyn. Jestyn nodded, almost imperceptibly, giving Jane a cue as to what she should do. Jane then nodded to each in turn. Hell would freeze over before she curtsied to the woman.

  Jane saw that Lord Millthorpe was making as if to reach for her hand so she awkwardly extended it to him. Lord Millthorpe then kissed her hand. Jane forced herself not to snatch her hand away.

  “A pleasure Miss Fielder.”

  Lady Millthorpe tapped Greywick on the shoulder with her fan.

  “Greywick, how tiresome of you not to let us know you were coming to Exeter. We could have come together in the carriage or arranged to meet. I just sent you an invitation to our ball.”

  “May we expect you and Miss Fielder at our ball?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid Miss Fielder may not be up to balls at the moment, Wilma,” said Jestyn. “She has not yet recovered from her injuries.” Jestyn removed Jane’s walking cane from a chair so that Lady Millthorpe could sit at the table.

  “Do change your mind and make a special effort to attend, Miss Fielder,” said Lady Millthorpe, “I have it on good authority – Dr. Lenn, no less – that healing is helped by partaking of amusing distractions. Do you not feel this to be so?”

  Lady Millthorpe looked to Jane like the well-endowed women in paintings by Gainsborough or Rembrandt, with her generous waist laced by a strangling corset. No wonder women of her generation had such good posture – there was no other choice, given the whale bone corsets they wore. Slumping would have made it hard to breathe.

  Lady Millthorpe was sitting upward as straight as a rod in an attractive emerald walking dress and military-looking spencer with matching plumed hat. She had titian hair, and large green eyes and a pointed chin that was a tat too long for beauty. She was now flirting openly with Jestyn even though she was getting no response from him.

  Jane smiled agreeably at Lady Millthorpe. From Lady Millthorpe’s attitude toward Jestyn, Jane could see that she still carried a pretty heavy torch for him. In fact she seemed the sort that carried the torch for a lifetime, no matter whom she married. She forced herself not to grimace.

  From the first moment Jane had been introduced to her, she had felt Lady Millthorpe’s jealous eyes raking her over in a way that she could not confuse. She felt bad vibes like darts from the woman and was glad she wouldn’t be here to receive any more of them.

  “I can’t contradict that, my lady. It is sound advice,” Jane said carefully, trying to sound like a lady of Lady Millthorpe’s era would sound. “This little excursion to Exeter with Mr. Greywick and his Aunt Florinda has helped my spirits. But as to dancing, well I’m certain I will not be able to partake of that for a long time.”

  “Ah, my dear, I do not expect you to dance, although there is nothing like exercise for the healing of sprains, I am told. But sitting on the sidelines as you are doing now and viewing the dancing might be beneficial to you. Besides, it’s in two weeks’ time. By then you will no doubt have healed. Do I have your word that you will at least consider it if by the night of the ball you are feeling better?”

  Jane glanced at Greywick.

  “I shall be happy to take Miss Fielder and Aunt Florinda to your ball, Wilma, if Miss Fielder decides she is well enough to attend.”

  Lady Millthorpe looked Jane over carefully, her huge green eyes making Jane nervous as they slid over Jane’s blue flowered muslin with blue spencer jacket and on to Jane’s chip bonnet and blue gloves. “And you, Miss Fielder, do I have your word you will consider attending my ball with Jestyn and his Aunt Florinda?”

  “Yes, Lady Millthorpe, You have my word I will consider it.” Consider to dump it in the round file, Jane thought. The woman knew Jestyn would not attend her ball without Jane so her eagerness to have Jane attend was all due to securing Jestyn’s attendance. It was amazing that she could sit here chatting after sending Jane the gift rat.

  “That pleases me,” Lady Millthorpe replied, “And speaking of your Aunt Florinda, how is the old dear?” She turned toward Jestyn.

  “She is in perfect health and right now enjoying a restoring nap at the Blue Ridges Inn,” Greywick replied.

  “Ah,” said Lady Millthorpe, “and how do you like living in that place, New
York, Miss Fielder?”

  “Have you been to America, my lady?” Jane asked sweetly.

  “Good heavens no! I hear heathens have the run of the streets, as well as all sort of wild creatures…”

  “Yes – there certainly are heathens and wild creatures running wild in New York streets.” Jane replied.

  “There are some ruffians running wild in our London streets as well, my lady,” said Greywick.

  “I had an encounter with one of ‘em last week,” said Lord Millthorpe loudly, speaking for the first time. “Caned him so hard all he was hoping for was to get away from me.”

  Jane looked with great interest as Lord Millthorpe recounted his encounter with someone with whom he seemed to have had a dispute. Millthorpe looked like a man who spoke with great flourish even when recounting inconsequential things, and in a theatrical manner that called attention to him even from other tables nearby.

  “You were lucky, sir, to have bested your opponent,” said Jane politely, glad that Lady Millthorpe’s peeled grape eyes were now on her husband, instead.

  “Ah, Miss Fielder,” he said, and apparently encouraged by Jane’s words expanded on another recounting of it, the second time making his participation in it even more glorious and courageous than the first.

  “I heard Miss Fielder was wearing a strange pair of breeches when she was taken to Lord Halensford’s house,” Lady Millthorpe interrupted her husband when it appeared he was going to launch into yet a third recounting of his scuffle, “But of course I couldn’t credit it, unless I am advised it was true. Was it?” Lady Millthorpe turned first to Jane and then to Jestyn.”

  “Miss Fielder attended a masquerade…” Jestyn began vaguely.

  “And ladies are allowed to wear breeches to masquerade balls in the Colonies, Miss Fielder?” she turned her probing eyes toward Jane.

  “It has been known to happen,” Jane answered, her eyes steady on Lady Millthorpe’s.

  “It may do for the Colonies, Miss Fielder,” said Lady Millthorpe, “but I would advise you not to wear men’s breeches here. It will get you into a great deal of trouble.”

  “I am leaving shortly,” said Jane in a cold voice, “so it does not really matter.”

  “Everything matters in these parts, Miss Fielder. Let me give you some valuable advice: do not give people who have age-old superstitions a reason to suspect you.”

  “What would they suspect me of, Lady Millthorpe?”

  “Witchcraft.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “I say, m’dear” interrupted Lord Millthorpe, “you’re scaring Miss Fielder.”

  “I am not easily scared,” said Jane, her look still steady on Lady Millthorpe.

  “That would be your first mistake, Miss Fielder.”

  “I’m afraid I must beg you to excuse me, my lady,” Jane said suddenly, standing up. “I have developed a dreadful headache that is being made worse by talk.”

  Jane had had enough of the Millthorpes and saw no reason to extend her stay at the Mols Coffee House when the pleasure she had experienced there had ended when the Millthorpes had appeared.

  “Of course,” Lady Millthorpe said, with a sharp look toward Lord Millthorpe.

  “Thank you so much, my lady. It was wonderful meeting you, of course, and thank you for your understanding,” Jane said sweetly.

  Jestyn took Jane’s arm and ushered her out of the place.

  Lord Millthorpe stood up awkwardly and almost toppled the square table and Jane caught a look from Lady Millthorpe that could not be mistaken. Jane could tell Lady Millthorpe had taken offense by Jane’s sudden departure.

  “Of all the–” Lady Millthorpe said when Jestyn and Jane were out of earshot.

  “Can’t expect breeding from a woman bred among heathens,” Millthorpe said soothingly to his wife. “Don’t take it so hard, m’dear; it can affect your health, what!”

  “It already has,” said Lady Millthorpe, her pointed chin trembling. “Too late for that; and that peasant girl will find out soon who she has tangled with.”

  “She’s of no consequence, m’dear,” said Millthorpe, trying to placate her, “Do not exalt her by giving her your notice.”

  “I’m going to give her my notice all right,” said Lady Millthorpe. “Those two were blatantly making lovey eyes at each other right in front of us!”

  “They’re both unmarried…” Millthorpe began, “…surely…”

  “Surely nothing!” Lady Millthorpe said, her voice trembling with rage. “That woman is beneath my contempt. She’s not a suitable match for Greywick. She is strange, as strange as the witches that were burned in this region. I have been in close contact with Mrs. Claye, the Halensford housekeeper. She told me alarming things about Miss Fielding. She believes her to be a witch.”

  “Surely not,” said her husband, “not for a hundred years has the area seen anything of the sort…”

  “I will make certain Jestyn does not become entangled with her,” said Lady Millthorpe, a shudder in her voice.

  “She said she’s returning to the Colonies, did you not hear her?”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute!” Lady Millthorpe hissed. “She’s out to get Jestyn and I will not stand for it!”

  Lord Millthorpe shook his head in resignation. He was well aware of his wife’s real reason for her opposition. The passion she still held for Greywick was obvious not only to Millthorpe but to his friends, as well.

  “Didn’t you hear that she has plans to return to the Colonies as soon as her limb is healed?” asked her husband, trying one last time to convince his wife.

  “She has no plans of the sort,” said his wife. “I know what kind of plans that vixen has – plans to ensnare Jestyn in her web.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “That has to be the most unpleasant woman I’ve met in a decade,” said Jane to Jestyn when they were out of their earshot. “That poor hen-pecked Lord Millthorpe. He must rue the day she crossed his path.”

  “I agree with you, Jane. Although I don’t think they present too much of a problem to you,” he added with a laugh, “You cut short Wilma’s questions very ably.”

  “I deal with people like her very often in my line of work, Jestyn,” Jane said with an exasperated sigh. “But I’m glad I won’t be here to be the recipient of her attention. There can’t be anything good coming from her. And she seems fixated on me. I feel so uncomfortable in her orbit – and it’s really because she’s still in love with you. Jealous women, especially someone like her can be very dangerous.”

  “I agree that she can be dangerous. It’s not a good thing to make an enemy of Wilma, darling. I had a taste of her machinations at one time.”

  “She seems obsessed with you, more than in love, Jestyn,” said Jane. “Her husband seems like her puppet, too.”

  “Yes, but he’s not a schemer like she is,” Jestyn agreed, “He muddles through harmlessly, except when she embroils him in her schemes.”

  “What kind of schemes?”

  “I believe Rosswell hadn’t the least idea of marrying Wilma. He was in love with a very nice girl, a neighbor to the south of his estate but–”

  “But Wilma schemed him out of the match and got herself married to him, instead,” Jane guessed, shaking her head.

  “Yes.”

  “What a snake. That poor girl engaged to Rosswell before – she hadn’t a chance against that bug-eyed tarantula.”

  “Yes,” Jestyn agreed, smiling widely at Jane’s description of Wilma. “Mary Capenelle was in love with Roswell, unlikely as it would seem. Rosswell is a blustery sort of fellow, as you had a taste of today, but he is harmless. They made a good couple and would have had a placid, happy marriage.”

  “I couldn’t get him to stop his version of that scuffle he had with someone,” Jane said.

  “I heard a very different version of his assault from an eyewitness, Jane, for it happened late at night in front of White’s. And I can assure you,” he added, laughing, “tha
t Lord Millthorpe did not fare as well as he described nor his opponent as badly as he would lead us to believe.”

  “Lord Millthorpe would have recounted the episode a couple more times if we had allowed him to, and with each time he would appear more courageous,” said Jane with a smile.

  “Are they close friends of yours?”

  “Good Lord, no, thankfully, mere acquaintances,” said Jestyn, “although Wilma is constantly pressing for the friendship to be more than what it is. We must be on guard when in Wilma’s presence, though.”

  “I’ll follow your advice faithfully,” Jane said with a laugh and told him how she had thought he was exaggerating when he warned her not to confide anything to Mrs. Claye. “Later on, when I experienced Mrs. Claye’s dominant nature on myself I thought that rather than exaggerate you had not warned me enough!

  “She would have strung me up like Joan of Arc if she’d had the chance when she saw my pants. What an unpleasant woman. The minute you left the bedroom she showered me with dirty looks.”

  “Mrs. Claye has no power, but she can influence others by repeating gossip. Wilma, on the other hand has power in the region, so you should be on guard with her. Be careful of Lord Millthorpe, too, for he’s completely ruled by his wife. Thankfully he’s more inclined to be absorbed with his gaming and debts.”

  “I shall remember that, Jestyn. It’s a good thing I’ll have very little contact with either of them before I leave for I wouldn’t go to that ball they’re giving to save my life. Other than that I don’t think there would be another occasion to meet them.” Jane sighed of relief.

  “She’s got a combination of a grudge and a grand passion for you that’s pretty awful to watch,” Jane added. “I don’t know how Lord Millthorpe puts up with it. But then he looks like putty in her hands.”

  “Tell me about the customs of your time, Jane. Is, for instance, the way we address each other, too formal for your time?”

  “Yes. People are often on a first name basis right from the start, especially in America. In England there’s more formality, though.”