As I watched fascinated I felt myself begin to fall towards it until I realised it was the effect of magnification. In a moment England filled the mirror. Then, by further instructions, he first displayed the electrical cables by which his world was powered then superimposed the electric telegraphic net.
“Look, a node in West Sussex,” he said. “I’ll magnify it.”
I felt myself falling again at an impossible speed towards Sussex.
“James! Slow down, you are making me giddy! But wait, look at those lines converging on Midhurst. Can we go closer?”
James moved a lever and I could see that the lines converged near the ruins of the old Cowdray House. By further magnification the ruins of old Cowdray House filled the view.
“Gosh, this must have been a beautiful place before it was ruined. It’s either Elizabethan or Jacobean. Do you know its history?”
“I know the house was burnt down. My grandmother remembered the great fire. She said there was a great curse on the family. Apparently one of the ancestors removed relics from Battle Abbey and a monk cursed him saying, ‘Your line will end in fire and water.’
“And only 200 years later it burnt down. And what about the water? Did the owner drown in a fire bucket or too much water in his gin?”
I reminded him that in his illuminated cocooned world, ghouls, ghosts and phantoms may seem to be entertainment for children’s minds but in my world of flickering candles, rattling window panes and black nights only occasionally illuminated by a flickering moon, the ‘other’ world was much closer.
“Yes, you're right, Elizabeth. I remember we were in bed in an old house in Norfolk where because of the antics of a single rat we were quite willing to believe the ‘other’ world and all its creatures were waiting for us outside.”
“James, you might think curses are old-fashioned, but the Viscount died on the Rhine Falls two weeks later and his sister’s two sons were drowned in the sea near Aldwick.”
“My god! I can see how that curse became famous. I must pay more attention to my grandma.”
“Yes, James. By the way, you said we - was it you and Jill in the bed?”
“What! Oh er, No! ... Ah, another world. Look, Elizabeth, the lines don't intersect on the house but between the bend on the River Rother and that old church. I’ll get a map.”
Although he changed the subject quickly, I was gratified that he looked suitably embarrassed. He opened the map.
“See here,” he said. “It’s an old Norman castle just on the bend of the Rother. The lines intersect here.”
I looked up to him and he misinterpreted my regard as an inquisition. He took my hand.
“I have a past, Elizabeth.”
I took a great risk. I looked him in the eye and reaching for his hand and holding it tightly I said, “And so do I, James.”
His smile and kiss lifted a great burden from me.
“Now,” he said, returning quickly and cautiously to the matter in hand, for I had no wish at this stage to indulge in the subject. “What do you know about the castle, Elizabeth?”
I tried to remember what my governess had told me during our history lessons. “I think they were built after the conquest, like Chichester, Arundel and Bamber.”
“I’ll look it up. No, nothing. But wait a sec. Look who lived in Midhurst! H.G. Wells. That’s too much of a coincidence.”
“I do not know him.”
“Oh, he’s very famous. Let’s have a look. Ah! He’s after your time. He was only seven years old when I met you.”
“What is he famous for?”
“He wrote a story about a man who invented a time machine.”
---~---
J.
By independent enquiry we had arrived back at Marco. I had seen at Manchester his time machine and the amount of equipment needed to power it and that led me to the conclusion that a vast amount of power was required. I thought if I looked at a map of the power distribution and the comms network I would be able to trace its origin. There were many nodes around the country but I did not expect to see one in Midhurst, a place not normally known as a hotbed of advanced science and engineering.
The icing on the cake was, however, H.G. Wells and his Time Machine. He must have met Marco or collaborated with him. What was interesting was whether his fictional story was actually a record of some of Marco’s exploits. Then I thought about his other science-fiction novels. His history of the future, The Shape of Things to Come. Was this the real future or just one of many? As for his War of the Worlds ...
Meanwhile since Elizabeth’s arrival we have spent much time trying to impart as much knowledge as possible on the last hundred years. With regard to her ability to absorb information Elizabeth was full of surprises. Yesterday she had asked me if I could explain Maxwell’s equations to her. As their derivation usually required both my neurons I did not expect it to go well. However, when I showed her the equations she became very excited and was soon extracting and writing down everything I knew on tensors and field equations. In her best copperplate they looked like a work of art. Apparently, I discovered, Elizabeth was quite good at maths and had spent the previous year at Girton College studying part of the new Mathematical Trypos. Jokes about Girton girls and the difficulties in climbing the guardian walls or getting passed the porters were, however, not well received and I was reminded I should concentrate on how difficult it had been for a girl to get a man’s education rather than their availability for recreation. Although I noticed an enquiry about ‘recreation’ caused an immediate change in topic and suggested someone liked to ‘party’.
Unfortunately, any further conversation on that topic was stopped by her placing Einstein’s deceptively simple equation in front of me and asking me to explain and derive each term. We got to bed quite late. The intense concentration of a Victorian’s brain, devoid of the distractions of TV and media sites, was quite exhausting.
---~---
E.
He was very kind and considerate in his explanations of the field equations which required understanding a significant amount of new algebraic notations. I hope he did not regard me as too much of a dunce and if I ever meet my tutor Miss Emily Davies again I hope she would be proud of me. I think I may have complained too much about how my writing had suffered with his automatic pens for he has found and given me a 'fountain pen'; it has improved my copperplate significantly though I must remember not to keep reaching for a non-existent ink pot while I am writing.
But I must return to the subject. The nexus of electricity and telegraphy over the castle must indicate the presence of Marco’s time engine or at least its origin. I asked him for his opinion to which he replied.
“Well, there's only one way to find out.”
---~---
Chapter Nine
J.
What was left of the castle, which apparently stood on a mound called St Ann’s Hill, were various courses of wall about half a meter high covered in ancient oak trees and scrub. We found no recent excavations or evidence of secret tunnels. However, I had no doubt there was something underneath because a little app on my phone which measured crude magnetic variations showed significant anomalies as we traversed the centre of the Hill.
We went back into Midhurst and decided to look for H.G. Wells’ house. It was situated in North Street and for confirmation there was one of those blue plaques recording his digs there. We also found the old chemistry shop on Church Hill.
By now it was getting late in the day and we agreed that we should stay overnight in Midhurst so we could spend the following day exploring. There was an old coaching inn opposite the church and we decided to book in there. I asked Elizabeth if she wanted a separate room, but she said she would rather have her honour compromised then be left alone in a world she barely knew. And besides no one here knew of her reputation. I didn’t argue.
Our room was very olde-worlde. Typical tourist’s four-poster, sofa and an old telly on top of a brown chest of drawers.
The leaded glass windows looked out to the church across the road. There were two internal doors. One led to the ensuite bathroom. The other was a part of the original building, very narrow and only about 5ft high. It seemed locked but after giving the handle a good hefty twist I got it open. There was a waft of damp air. I opened it further and to my surprise I saw a stone passage.
“Elizabeth, come here. Look what I’ve found.”
“Gosh, do you think it is a priest’s hole? I believe the early dukes were staunch defenders of the Catholic Church and at one point there were dozens of what were called recusants living in Midhurst.”
“Recusants?”
“Catholics, James. You know, people who were not Anglican like the Dukes of Norfolk at Arundel, or have you forgotten how religious our country has been? Even in my mother’s time there were still restrictions placed on Catholics. By the way, do you have a religion?”
I thought it best not to be flippant with someone who possibly had gone to church every Sunday all her life.
“My father’s family were Scottish Presbyterians and socialists and I was christened in an Anglican church, which I believe my grandfather regarded as a papist. So the best I can say, Elizabeth, on the subject of religious belief is that I am very confused.”
“You have my sympathy. I have friends who through love have married Catholics and it caused no end of family squabbles. Anyway, what shall we do with this passage? I presume from my past experience with you we are about to explore it.”
Not wishing to disappoint Elizabeth by having my unasked-for accolade of Captain Intrepid questioned, we descended the steps using an LED torch I kept in the car and my phone compass. I was hoping to record the route, for no other reason than if we got lost, but my phone’s GPS was useless. The walls were lined with rough local sandstone bricks. There was green moss on parts of the passage, indicating that it had been illuminated. After about ten metres it turned right, which I surmised was in the direction of the church. The passage floor had human track marks indicating perhaps recent use. After about fifty metres there was a passage on the left. We followed it until we reached a nailed door. It was locked but I could just see through the key latch what looked like the church crypt. We went back down to the passage and continued. After a while I could hear a faint hum. Suddenly I noticed a light on the ceiling connected by wire to a switch on the wall. I tried the switch and a row of lamps lit up the passage in front of us, at the end of which was a door. I turned off the lamps and continued cautiously. I held Elizabeth’s hand tightly, hoping she would think it was for her support and not mine. Another ten metres and we arrived at a steel door. I decided to push it and to my surprise it opened easily.
---~---
E.
This was the first time I had travelled with him on my own.
After many trials I had selected clothing which conformed to his world’s fashion but gave me some pretence of modesty. Jill had tried to persuade me to wear trousers, but I felt that they gave away too much of my shape and left virtually nothing for the imagination. Jill, I was pleased to say, agreed and said that a good figure and close-fitting trousers did draw frequent though sometimes unwarranted attention and had the disadvantage of reminding one of failed promises to undertake a regime. I had not reached this conclusion yet as I was still enjoying the liberation from the corset and dare I say by my observation of many modern ladies I had some way to go before I need worry about refusing the offer of cake.
After exploring the castle ruins and the old town of Midhurst James reserved a room at the coaching inn at Midhurst. The proprietor had done his best to preserve its character in a way in which someone of James’ era would regard as Victorian. He had persuaded me that we should reserve only one room for the night and I was surprised how little persuasion I needed, though I insisted that I must pretend we were married to preserve some semblance of a reputation, and so I saw for the first time my name recorded as Elizabeth Urquhart.
The passage that we had discovered led us to a metalled door which James easily opened, to reveal a hewn cavern. In the centre stood a large plinth surrounded by electric contraptions with large dials and levers. Rows of little green and red lights winked on and off on black and gold metallic boxes attached by hundreds of electrical cables. Across one wall I noticed there were clocks, dials and levers connected by brass and copper pipes and in the centre of the room a large rotating globe of our world with dials showing what looked like dates and times.
In a corner an elderly gentleman stood over a desk regarding a black mirror intently.
---~---
J.
I recognised H.G. Wells from his photographs as I walked slowly towards him. He turned and before he could speak I said, “Hello, Mr Wells. What year is it?”
He looked at us with less surprise than I expected.
“1895 sir, but I can tell by your clothing you are from the future, though your companion has the air of someone closer to my time.”
There was only one question I could ask of H. G. Wells.
“So you do have a time machine?”
“No, I do not have such a machine, but I am acquainted with someone who does. And who, sir, are you?”
“I'm James Urquhart and this is my wife, Elizabeth. We're looking for a Mr Batalia who had a time machine.”
Elizabeth turned to me but said nothing and gripped my hand more tightly.
“And newly married it seems, or maybe incognito?”
Before I could reply he continued, “Mr Batalia has disappeared and so has his machine, but before he left he told me what he had seen. It was very interesting. In fact, so interesting that I have recorded and published his story as a fictional novel.”
I knew which of his novels this was.
“And what he told you, do you believe him?”
“He said he had a contraption for travelling through time which he would demonstrate to me if I was interested.”
“How?”
“He appeared at the chemist’s shop where work in town and asked me if I would like to see something that would be of great interest to me and my future. I must confess I was attracted to his proposition as I felt I was at an impasse in my life. He brought me here and showed me his contraption and told me of his time travels. Then he entered his machine and disappeared.”
“Did he mention anything about us?”
“No, he did not sir. Why, what interest do you have in him?”
I stalled as I needed to understand why he was here.
“He brought my wife and me together. But why did you think it was a time machine? It could have been a conjuring trick.”
“Before he went I asked him if I could publish his memoirs in the form of a novel. He agreed, then went to a desk and retrieved a plain package which he gave to me on the condition I should not open it until I had published. I agreed. I returned here today after visiting my publisher Mr Heineman in London and opened the package.”
He showed me the contents. As I had already guessed it was his Time Machine novel.
---~---
E.
I was a little shocked when James announced we were married but I understood his motive a little too late.
I suggested in a whisper to him, but with some humour I might add, for I did not want to pre-empt a possible event to my liking, that in my time it was taken as good manners to ask a lady first and wait until a satisfactory reply was received before announcing they were married. In fact, even a wedding ceremony was regarded in some circles as a prerequisite.
He replied in the same humour that he was profusely sorry but he thought it would preserve my honour and if the occasion to propose ever arose he would go down on one knee and ask for my hand in the most traditional way. To which I drew attention to the fact that up to that point I had not realised my honour was in question. Feeling one of his innuendos on honour and marriage coming on I pressed my finger gently to his lips.
However, I could also see that Mr Wells was more con
cerned about his discovery of time travel than our relationship. James pursued with further questions.
“Mr Wells, do you know where Mr Maxwell is?”
“Mr Batalia wanted to meet him. Why, have you met him, Mr Urquhart?”
“I last saw him at Hamgreen but that was in my time.”
“Mr Batalia was very concerned about Mr Maxwell, for he believes he holds the key to time travel. Do you know how the time machine works?”
“I’ve used it, Mr Wells, but I’m more interested to know why you are here.”
He looked at us a little sheepishly, like a child who had been caught in the cake tin.
“My curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see if I could time travel myself, but I am at a loss with these computational machines.”
Then James said, “Perhaps we can help. Do you know what these dials and levels do?”
“I believe they control the travelling of the vehicle through time. See these dials, I think they show dates. I think they are the chronological locations of the vehicles. I have discovered that by manipulating these levers and slides the dates can be changed. Watch.”
He lifted a lever and began to slide a knob along a slot. The year on one of the dials changed from 1895 to 1874.
“Then by manipulating this Vernier I can home in on a particular date in the year.” On adjacent three dials the month, date and hour moved to 3rd of April 1874.
“So, these dials could show the year and day where the time vehicle could be,” I said.
“Or,” he said, “one is for the time vehicle, another for this chamber and the third is for the world above us. Did you see any dials like this on the time machine, Mr Wells?”
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