Through the fog in her brain she heard Jasper calling her name but it wasn’t until the warmth of his body hit hers that she was able to bring herself back into focus.
“Grace.” She heard her name again. She wrenched her eyes away from the time-travelling device lying innocently on the floor before her and looked into Jasper’s concerned gaze.
“It’s the brooch.” The words tumbled from her lips, stumbling over each other in her eagerness to escape from her. “It brought me here. Spinning. The room. The eye. Spinning. Lights flickering.” The words stopped and she said with perfect clarity, “Is it yours?”
Jasper reached for the brooch. Grace tried to stop him. “No! Don’t touch it,” but it was too late, he already held it in his hand.
Nothing happened. The eye in the brooch stayed still and Jasper stayed where he belonged.
She cautiously peeked into his palm. “It was spinning before.” Her voice sounded annoyed. She sniffed loudly, badly needing to blow her nose. Now that she felt safe, she felt uncomfortable; her nose was plugged and her eyes were burning with unshed tears.
“Where did you find this?” Jasper asked in wonder. His mother had this made of his eye so he could be near her even when he was away at school. It was very unusual for someone to wear a ‘lover’s eye’ of a son, especially if that son was still alive. It was often whispered she was having an affair and the lover’s eye was that of her lover. But his parents’ marriage had been a love match and there was never any truth to the rumours.
The brooch had been missing since she died. Jasper hadn’t been able to find it amongst any of her jewellery and he hadn’t known where else to look.
“It was under the table at Kensington Manor. I picked it up just before I travelled here. I never even thought this was the key.”
Grace reached for his hand and took the brooch from him. The eye started to spin again and the brooch once again grew warm in her palm. She let out a small squeak and quickly dropped it back into his hand. The spinning instantly stopped.
“See, I’m not crazy after all,” she said with a laugh that did nothing to prove her statement.
They stared at the object for some minutes before Grace broke the silence: “Why’s it only spin when I touch it?”
“I’m unsure, Grace. But you’re the one who uses it for travelling through time; shouldn’t you know how it works?”
“I recognise the eye. It’s yours,” she said.
“I know, my mother had this made years ago so she could keep a piece of me when I wasn’t around.” Jasper turned it around and around in his hand, gently touching the jewels encrusting the outside.
“Think about it, Jasper. It’s your eye. Maybe whoever touches it, gets transported to you. That would explain why it doesn’t spin for you, you can’t exactly travel to where you already are, can you?”
“I suppose not, but my mother was never transported to me when she wore it.”
“Should I call your sister, maybe it’ll work for her.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, you don’t want her to accidently travel somewhere else, do you?”
“No. That would be horrible. I suppose we’ll never know.” Grace looked at the brooch lying in his hand and sighed. How could she be so stupid. Of course it was the brooch that got her here. She had forgotten all about the brooch after she put it in her reticule at the ball. Somehow it had ended up tangled in her shawl. She looked on the window seat and saw her bag open and tipped over, her lipstick, make-up and cell phone all fallen out.
Another thought struck her. “I can go home.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I’m sorry, my lord, but I regret to inform you Miss Lancaster has already left. Lady Harrison was looking for her this morning when she found the note she left behind. Lady Harrison said Miss Lancaster has gone and won’t be returning. I am terribly sorry you have missed her.”
Jasper’s world closed in around him as he listened to the words the old butler spoke. He thanked Hoskins through the shock that assaulted his body. Gone? She was gone? He shouldn’t have left last night, but the hurt and anger he felt when she said she could go home had blinded him. He had left as quickly as he could. He couldn’t take the look of joy on her face when she had uttered those words; a knife had plunged in and ripped out his heart. He now regretted storming out of the house in a rage, but he never thought she would just leave; without even saying goodbye, without allowing him to fight for her. The joy he felt last night in her arms was long gone now. All that was left was emptiness.
He turned away from his sister’s house, wishing to never see the place again. He spoke briefly to his footman, telling him to send word to the vicar and walked numbly away down the street, leaving his coach behind. He needed to be alone.
He wandered the streets for hours until his feet made their way to the church where he was supposed to be married today. It was as though they had a mind of their own. If he had a choice in the direction they walked, he would have walked all the way to Scotland before setting foot on the same street as this church. But here he was, all the same. As he drew closer, he became aware of the hustle and bustle of servants going in and out of the church carrying flowers and boxes piled so high they could barely see where they were going. If he didn’t know any better, there was a wedding here today. A knot formed in his stomach while he watched the preparations. It hadn’t taken long for someone to pounce on the vacancy left by his cancelled nuptials.
After a while the servants slowed to a trickle and the first of the carriages full of guests began to arrive. With a heavy heart he turned and walked back the way he had come. It was time to go home and pick up the pieces of his shattered life.
“Jasper!” A voice called from a carriage that pulled up alongside him. “I have been looking for you for hours. Where in the blazes have you been?” Philip Blade alighted from the vehicle dressed in formal attire, as if he was on the way to something important…like a wedding. “I found your coach at Harrison’s but no one seemed to know where you had gone. Miss Lancaster has been frantic that you wouldn’t show up.”
“Grace is gone,” Jasper stated to his friend. He turned away and continued walking as fast and as far away from the chapel as he could get.
“Wait!” Philip called out before chasing him down. “Jasper, wait, she’s here,” he called again before Jasper disappeared around the corner.
Philip’s huffed words stopped Jasper in his tracks. “What do you mean, here?” He turned around and stared hard into his friend’s eyes. Did he dare to hope? Joy and confusion both scrambled together in his heart. The breath caught in his chest and he felt light-headed, the world shifted under his feet as he waited for Philip to explain. He dared not get his hopes up; Hoskins said she was gone.
“Miss Lancaster is waiting at the chapel.” Philip had barely finished his sentence before Jasper was running full-tilt towards the church that just a few moments ago he wished to never see again.
Taking the steps two at a time Jasper crashed through the doors of the chapel and came to a skidding halt in front of the astonished eyes of the guests he had invited to celebrate today. Philip, who was close behind, ran into his back sending them both careening into Mrs Hillary Barrett’s lap.
“I do beg your pardon!” Mrs Barrett gasped in shock at having two fervid young men fall onto her legs. Her fingers dug into the skirt of her new dress to stop her hands from holding the men against her.
“Grace!” Jasper disentangled himself from Mrs Barrett’s skirts and charged through the church, shouting Grace’s name until, at last, she emerged from the vestibule in a vision of white. The crystals on her dress danced in the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows.
Grace paced the small room at the front of the church. Where was he, she wondered for the millionth time? She was the one supposed to be late, not the groom. As it was, she was here an hour early in anticipation of her wedding. She could hardly wait to see Jasper again…she needed to say
sorry too.
When he had left last night she’d been in shock from finding out she could go home. The last thing she expected was for him to storm out in anger that she didn’t understand. Now she was afraid she’d said the wrong thing. She was so excited she had unravelled the mystery of her time travel she didn’t think before blurting out she could go home. What a ninny. Now she was terrified he was so mad he wouldn’t show up for their wedding. Or maybe he didn’t feel he needed to marry her now. She could go home and he could marry Anne, like he planned. Her heart twisted at the thought. But he wouldn’t leave her standing here just waiting for him, would he? How on earth would she get the nerve to stand at the front of the church and announce that the groom was a no-show?
“He’ll be here,” Anne said, touching her shoulder. “He is a good man and he loves you dearly. I know, I saw him when Robin took you. He was frantic trying to find you. Grace, I’m so sorry for what happened. I didn’t think he would try to kill you but I did know Robin wanted me to marry Lord Bingham. I guess I should have seen it coming.”
“The men did. Jasper told me all about it on the way home yesterday. I told him it would have been helpful if they had let us know what was going on. I would never have left the house if I had known your brother hired Rupert to kill me! It’s not your fault, Anne. I don’t hold it against you at all. Besides, we would never have become friends if your brother didn’t suggest it to you, am I right? And I wouldn’t miss our friendship for anything.” Her mind wandered back to Jasper. “Where is he?”
“Robin? I thought they told you. They sent him to Australia. Lucky really, I thought for sure they would’ve hung him, but I think Lord Harrison spoke to the authorities. I just wish we could find Rupert. I hope he is not in any difficulty.”
“I’m sure Rupert can look after himself. He’s managed to stay alive all these years without our help. And I know about Robin. I meant Jasper. He should’ve been here by now.”
“I’m sure that he is on…” Anne stopped mid-sentence. “Do you hear that? What is it? It’s coming from the church.”
Grace listened hard. Her face cracked into a beaming smile when she heard Jasper calling her name. She picked up her skirts and rushed from the room.
“You’re late,” she said when his eyes met hers. “Where have you been? Philip and Neal have been looking everywhere for you. Did you forget?”
“Forget? How could I forget?” Jasper continued towards her up the aisle. When he finally had her at arm’s length he pulled her into a fierce embrace and whispered into her hair, “God, I love you.” He took a step back to look in her eyes. “I thought you went home. Hoskins said that you had gone.”
“You silly man.” Now he was here, her heart ceased its frantic beat and she found she was able to laugh again. “I only went shopping for your wedding present. Did he not show you the note I left your sister?”
Jasper blushed. He remembered Hoskins telling him Grace had left a note. “He said that you wouldn’t be coming back.”
“That’s right. I won’t be going back. I will be moving in with you…after the wedding.” She smiled up at him. His lips turned up at the edges and she saw relief and joy shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry for what I said last night. I didn’t mean I was going home, just that I could, if I wanted to.”
“So you don’t want to go back? Won’t you miss it?” He was still not willing to believe she was here to stay.
“I told you I loved you, didn’t I? What’s running water and central heating compared to having you?” she whispered just as his lips descended onto hers, his tongue sweeping urgently into her mouth. She ignored the gasps coming from every lip in the room and the vicar loudly clearing his throat; the passion for her man was overriding everything else.
It was only fitting they started their marriage with a scandal to rival the one which had brought them together.
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Doubting Abbey by Samantha Tonge
LORD EDWARD’S E-DIARY
Welcome to this blog. Your visit is appreciated. May I introduce myself – I am Lord Edward, the son of the Earl of Croxley. Our home, Applebridge Hall, is in the final of the Million Dollar Mansion competition. For regular updates of our progress, please do grace this blog with your presence.
Monday 27th August
7p.m. Good evening, readers. Finally I write my first entry. Do bear with me, as I am new to blogging, which I see as a modern twist on my ancestors’ habit of keeping journals. The programme-makers insist you will be interested in my thoughts on the competition, so I shall attempt to bring honesty and some perspective to this diary.
Honest thought number one? Chaos has descended. The film crews arrived again today—cue a refresher course on camera and sound procedures. A national tabloid interviewed Father. To my irritation, the photographer suggested we both wore monocles and borrowed a cluster of the Queen’s corgis. Regardless of the fact I don’t know Her Majesty, my response equalled “over my dead body”.
Some perspective? I await a phone call from my, um, dear cousin, Abigail Croxley who, I’m sure, will confirm her intention to join us imminently. How we intend to beat the other finalist, the Baron of Marwick Castle, is still top secret. However, here is an exclusive clue: my cousin’s cooking knowledge will be an instrumental part of our tactics. I am very much looking forward to seeing her.
Best bit of today? Right now, sitting by myself in our tranquil library.
Worst? Gaynor, the director, handing me a DVD of Pride and Prejudice, along with a frilly white shirt and breeches. I made it quite clear that I am a down-to-earth gentleman who will never, under any circumstances, resemble some sort of romantic hero like Mr Darcy.
Chapter 1
Abbey was born to sophistication, whereas I was more Barbara than Buckingham Palace Windsor. The two of us had just got back from a goodbye lunch with our Pizza Parlour colleagues, and were standing in front of the bathroom mirror. Having toasted each of our redundancies, I felt a bit tiddly, but still sharp enough to realize this idea was bonkers.
‘Look, Abbey, I don’t know what’s behind this plan, but seriously…’ I smiled ‘…wise up. I could never trick people into thinking I was you, a member of the aristocracy. Ask me to mimic a…a pop star or footballer’s wife, then I’d give it a shot, but even then I dunno if I could live a lie for very long.’ With a grin, I shrugged. ‘Run this idea past me again.’ Perhaps I’d misheard.
Abbey’s bottom lip quivered. ‘It’s…um, no joke, Gemma – please, pretend to be me. Just for two weeks.’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘Who else could I trust with such a mission?’
My jaw dropped. ‘Are you out of your mind? You know I’d flog all my make-up and fave shoes on eBay if it meant helping you get out of a scrape… But this? Abbey, mate…’ My eyes narrowed for a second. ‘Marcus next door hasn’t given you one of his funny-smelling cigarettes has he?’
‘Goodness, no!’ Abbey’s face broke into a smile. ‘Honestly, I quite understand your apprehension, but…’ She fiddled with the waistband of her skinny white trousers. ‘It’d only be for a fortnight and it is in a good cause.’ She took my hands and squeezed them. ‘Oh, please, Gemma. You’re the only person in the world who can pull this off. Remember when Laurence, the son of one of Mummy’s friends, stayed over a few weeks ago?’
Ooh, yeah. Hotter than Dad’s chilli con carne, he was, in that white scarf and tux.
‘He caught you fresh-faced in the morning,’ she said, ‘and insisted we looked terribly alike. If you dyed your brunette hair blonde, he joked we could pass as sisters, what with the same shape nose and blue eyes.’
‘He must have still had his beer goggles – or champers shades—on.’ I let my hands drop from her grip and looked down at my skimpy skirt, the streak of fake tan and high-heeled shoes. ‘Mind you…’ I giggled ‘…remember my first day at work?’
Abbey leant towards me and joined i
n the laughter. My chest glowed, glad to have cheered her up – but then it was funny, me being mistaken for her. Several members of staff had thought that Abbey – who already worked there – had suffered some sort of identity crisis and undergone a chavvy makeover. Or, in their opinion, makeunder. I should have been insulted at their relief when she’d turned up looking her usual sophisticated self.
‘Even the regular customers were fooled.’ I turned to the bathroom mirror for a moment. Personally, I couldn’t see a strong resemblance but time had taught me that the world at large occasionally considered us each other’s doppelganger.
Abbey’s grey-haired aunt came in, picked up a bottle of cleanser and passed it to me. ‘Do hurry up, Gemma – we only have ten days to complete your transformation.’
A bubble of laughter tickled the inside of my chest. Really? I mean, really? This wasn’t a wind-up? To humour them, I removed the make-up from half of my face. Minus one false eyelash and a cheek of bronzer, I resembled an unsymmetrical Picasso portrait.
I leant towards Abbey and whispered, ‘Come on, spill—tell me what this is really about and what she’s actually doing here.’
‘She has a name,’ said the old dear, who clearly had bionic hearing and a strict dinner lady stare.
‘How rude of me not to introduce my aunt formally,’ said Abbey with a sheepish smile at the old dear. ‘Gemma, this is Lady Constance Woodfold, my mother’s sister—she used to run her own finishing school.’
‘I’m sure you’ll look delightful without all that bronzer, Gemma,’ said Lady C (posh titles were too long to say in full, unless you were Lady Gaga). ‘Surely your mother would prefer to see your skin au naturel?’
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