A Rip in Time (Out of Time #7)

by Monique Martin

  “Very good, sir. Dinner is at eight, the gong will ring at seven.”

  “Have the other guests arrived?” he asked.

  “You are the first,” Jeeves said.

  Simon nodded and Jeeves waited to make sure there were no other questions before he waved his hand and a tall, slender footman appeared and escorted them to their rooms—a rather expansive and very elegant suite.

  “My name is Edward,” the footman said as other servants deposited their ridiculously overstuffed trunks in their room. “I am at your service as your valet for the duration of your stay. Simply ring for me here,” he said as he gestured toward a velvet rope that hung near the doorway.

  “And if Lady Cross should need a lady’s maid or anything at all,” he continued, “Eleanor will be pleased to serve.”

  Simon thanked him and the young man bowed. George had thought of everything. He knew they hadn’t traveled with a valet and maid, as would be customary for a couple with his status, and had delicately given them the option.

  Elizabeth came back into the sitting room from the bedroom holding a bottle of champagne. “Good ol’ George.”

  Simon met her halfway and took the bottle. It was a fine vintage, but he set it aside.

  Elizabeth pouted and he took her in his arms. “Two glasses of that and I’ll have to carry you down to dinner.”

  She laughed. “George would like that.”

  “I’m sure he would, but we have to pace ourselves and cannot let—”

  “Our guard down,” she finished for him. “I know.”

  He kissed her forehead. “It won’t be long now.”

  She hmm’d against his chest. “When this is all over, we are going to Hawaii or Tahiti or somewhere and sleeping on the beach for a week.”

  “Agreed.”

  He let go of her and pulled out his pocket watch. It was just now four. “We still have a few hours before we need to dress for dinner. Why don’t you lie down? I’ll keep watch.”

  Elizabeth nodded and took a step toward the bedroom before turning back to him. “I sleep better with you next to me.”

  He wanted to protest, but the words wouldn’t come.

  She held out her hand. “They’re not even here yet. You’re watching an empty house.”

  He hesitated, but realized she was right, and stepped forward taking her hand.

  “For a few hours,” he said.

  “Just you and me.”

  ~~~

  Elizabeth woke with a start and sat up in bed. Next to her, Simon did the same. They’d fallen asleep in their clothes nearly as soon as they’d lain down, but something had startled them both awake.

  Simon checked his pocket watch. “Quarter past seven. Slept right through the gong. We’d better dress.”

  Elizabeth nodded and slipped off the bed, and as she did, they both heard the door to the suite next to theirs close with a bit too much force. Elizabeth went toward the door to their rooms to investigate, Simon close behind.

  In the hallway, they could hear raised voices. Elizabeth cracked their door open and listened.

  “Then you should have stayed in London,” Graham said, his voice choked with anger.

  “You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you?” Vale bit back.

  Graham took a quick step toward her, but Vale held her ground defiantly. Graham paused and her eyes shifted away from him, catching sight of Simon and Elizabeth. Graham’s gaze followed hers.

  He cleared his throat and smoothed down his dinner jacket before shooting Vale a final look.

  Caught watching them, Simon and Elizabeth stepped out into the hallway, apologetic expressions on their faces.

  Graham plastered on a smile and for the first time Elizabeth felt uneasy with him. It wasn’t that he’d tried to cover their argument and pretend everything was all right. Everyone did that once in a while. It was how well he did that. His smile was effortless. He shifted from anger to pleasant nonchalance in a heartbeat, as if he could just flip a switch.

  “Sorry about that,” Graham said, striding toward them, hand extended. “I heard you two would be here. I’m so glad.”

  Simon shook Graham’s hand.

  Vale’s expression remained icy and her eyes darted to Graham, clearly not finished with their argument.

  Graham eyed Simon and cocked his head to the side. “Is dinner casual?”

  “Oh,” Simon said, looking down at his clothes. “No, we’re running a bit behind.”

  “We won’t keep you then,” Graham said and turned to Vale. “Shall we?”

  She glared at him, and then back to Simon and Elizabeth before nodding and leaving without him.

  “We’ll see you downstairs,” Graham said as he caught up to Vale and headed down the hall to the stairs.

  Simon and Elizabeth slipped back into their rooms.

  “Now what do you think that was all about?” Elizabeth asked.

  Simon looked back at the door. “I don’t know. But things are starting to look a bit frayed around the edges, aren’t they?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I’d be more than frayed if I were Graham.”

  Simon began to unbutton his shirt. “I wish he’d taken our advice and left here when we told him about Vale’s letter.”

  “I know I wouldn’t spend a minute more with her than I had to.”

  Simon sighed. “He’s obsessed with the Ripper case. Beyond all good sense.”

  “I’m starting to think he’s as crazy as she is,” Elizabeth said, and then added off of Simon’s curious look. “Well, not that crazy. She’s cornered the market on that brand of nuts.”

  Simon looked thoughtfully back toward the door. “Let’s hope so.”

  ~~~

  Marie ate her food as she always did, as if it were the last she’d ever see. She washed down an enormous mouthful of fried haddock with the last third of her beer.

  It would have been impressive, Victor thought, if it weren’t so very sad. The meals they shared together were some of the few she got, he was sure. The rest of the time it was stale bread and bits of cheese. Meat was a luxury and vegetables non-existent.

  He watched her as she scraped the last bits from her meal into a pile, not willing to waste even the smallest crumb.

  He pointed at her plate. “Another?”

  She grinned and spoke with a mouth half-full. “I couldn’t.”

  She swallowed and put her hands on her stomach. “Stuffed like a Christmas goose.”

  She eyed her glass though and he knew the silent request. He took her glass and his, and moved to the bar for two more. She drank too much. They all drank too much, but it was the only pleasure here, leaden though it was in the end.

  Victor leaned his elbows against the bar as the barman drew two more pints. The pub was busy as usual, but the noise and the stink didn’t bother him anymore. He barely noticed them.

  That was a bad sign, he thought. But hardly surprising considering he’d been there almost a month. He’d been on long assignments before. The greatest risk was always complacency. Becoming comfortable, accustomed, meant losing his edge, not seeing the things he needed to see. Not being the man he needed to be.

  He’d learned that lesson the hard way just outside of Paris during the war. It was easy to become one of them, to forget why he was there. Their cause was just and they were the sort of men and women he could fight alongside and be proud to die with. However, despite sabotaging convoys and tapping phones, he was not there to fight their enemy. He shared their food, he smoked their cigarettes, but he was not one of them.

  He’d lost sight of that then and it had nearly cost a good man his life. He vowed that that would never happen again. And in the years since, he’d kept that promise. With everything at stake here, now was not the time to break it. He was not here to interfere in their lives or to become part of them.

  The barman placed two beers in front him, he took them and turned back to their table. Marie smiled at him.

  No matter how much they might ne
ed him to.

  ~~~

  She was never eating again. The dinner had been equal parts amazing and disgusting. The sole was delicious. The calf’s head would fuel nightmares and indigestion for days to come. Elizabeth could still see it staring at her.

  Her stomach burbled again and she turned her head to see if it had woken Simon. His eyes stayed closed though and his breathing was deep and rhythmic.

  Poor him. She could only imagine how tired he was. He’d only been half-joking earlier when he’d said he’d stand guard. She knew he did that most nights. Unwilling to leave them as vulnerable as they would be in sleep, he allowed himself only cat naps. Even for a master of the sleepless night like Simon, doing that for several weeks was a few weeks too many.

  From the looks of it, his body had finally convinced his mind to shut the heck up and let it rest. Afraid she might wake him and needing something to settle her upset stomach, she carefully slipped out of bed. Simon rolled his head to the side, but didn’t wake. Elizabeth grabbed her robe and tiptoed out of the room.

  The house was dark except for a few low-burning gas lamps in the halls. She managed to get downstairs, but had no idea where the kitchen was. One of the grandfather clocks sounded three chimes. Her stomach gurgled in response.

  It was late, but maybe someone would still be up in the servants’ quarters and could help her find something. Of course, she had no idea where the servants quarters were either. But she’d seen enough Masterpiece Theater to know they were downstairs. Somewhere.

  Quietly, she padded along through the halls. The house was enormous though and the servants’ quarters were well hidden. She started to backtrack when she noticed a light coming from a doorway. The distinct odor of cigar wafted down the hall to her. Maybe it was George. He’d help.

  She retied the sash to her robe and made her way toward the light. She peeked inside, but couldn’t see anyone. Easing the already ajar door open a bit more, she stuck her head in.

  All she could see was a curl of smoke drifting up over the back of a large wingback chair near the fireplace.

  “George?”

  Dr. Blackwood’s large, mustached face appeared around the edge of the chair. His bushy eyebrows shot up and after a moment’s surprise, he stood. “Lady Cross.”

  “I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said, already starting to back out of the room.

  “No, no,” he said, a sleepy, indulgent smile coming to his face. “I see I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.”

  He held out his glass in question.

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  His eyes took her in, quickly, clinically, before he finished his drink in one long draw. “You don’t mind if I indulge, do you?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer and was already moving toward the drink cart.

  “It might not be the best medicine for sleeplessness,” he said as he poured himself another glass, “but it is the most pleasant.”

  He turned back and eyed her again. “Or the second most,” he said softly, almost to himself as his eyes drifted over her. They were heavy with drink and something else she couldn’t name and didn’t quite want to.

  Although her robe was as tightly wrapped around her as possible, and her nightclothes thick, she still felt naked under his gaze. She tugged at the edges of her robe and wrapped her arms around waist.

  His gaze drifted back up to her face then and he seemed to come back to himself and cleared his throat as he looked away.

  Elizabeth repressed a shiver. She’d overheard two maids talking about the doctor the other day, one warning the other to avoid being alone with him, and here she was doing just that.

  He walked slowly, and bit wobbly back to his chair. “You’re not suffering from one of Miss Vale’s headaches, are you?”

  The way he said headaches made it sound like a euphemism. But for what?

  Despite her fear, Elizabeth stepped further into the room. He was drunk, which was creepy, but it was also good, she realized. Between that and his weight, she could get away from him if she had to, as long as she kept a safe distance between them.

  She walked around to stand behind the chair opposite his.

  “Did you give Katherine something to help with her headaches?”

  The doctor looked down into his glass. “She’s very clever, that one.”

  Oh, she is that, Elizabeth thought. But what made the doctor think so?

  His head lolled slightly to the side and he caught it, jerking it back up into position. His eyes were getting glossier, his focus waning and Elizabeth eased around to the front of the chair.

  She moved closer to him and leaned down slightly. “Has she done something?”

  Slowly, he lifted his gaze up to her. “Why are women such vile creatures?”

  Taken aback, Elizabeth took a step away.

  He looked at her and whispered hoarsely, “Why do we need you so badly?”

  Elizabeth couldn’t stop the shiver that overtook her body. The doctor looked at her again, and started to reach out for her, but was interrupted by a voice at the door.

  “Doctor?” It was Roderick, the doctor’s valet, standing in the doorway to the study.

  Elizabeth tensed, but tried to look casual. If Lizzy Stride were to be believed, Roderick was not above doing the doctor’s dirty work and she didn’t want to give him any cause to do any now.

  He came in, shooting Elizabeth a cold look, and addressed the doctor the way one would a child.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “Time for bed, I think, sir.”

  The doctor grunted. His eyes shifted to Elizabeth briefly as Roderick helped him out of his chair.

  They stopped at the entrance to the room and doctor turned and bowed sloppily. “Good night, my dear.”

  With an imperious wave, he stumbled down the hall. Roderick paused before following after him and shot her a look that said in no uncertain terms—whatever happened here, you’d be wise to keep your mouth shut.

  Her stomach churned again, but this time it wasn’t because of dinner.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  SIMON’S LUNGS BURNED. HIS legs ached and his mouth was bone dry. He hadn’t felt so damned good in ages. He’d nearly forgotten how good it felt to run himself ragged on the pitch. Simon had been reluctant to play, but between Elizabeth’s encouragement and George’s refusal to accept any other outcome, he’d finally agreed. And now, he was glad he had. He’d been a tolerable cricket player in his youth, and it was nice to know he hadn’t forgotten everything.

  Of course, that was twenty years ago, as his aching back would testify and re-testify with vigor tomorrow. Even as out of practice he was, he’d done fairly well. He was no match for young Almovar and the twins from Brighton, but he held his own.

  Despite his pride, he was relieved when the final wicket of the morning was taken. Due to a general lack of fitness and perhaps too much alcohol the previous night, the next innings, and the match, were called off. It was just as well. He wasn’t sure he could have made his ground for another run if his life depended on it.

  Sweat trickled down his forehead into his eyes and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

  “Excellent stuff!” a tall, gangly man called Masters said as the teams shook hands. “You have the makings of a fine batsman.”

  Simon smiled his thanks. The day had been pleasant. Blackwood was blessedly absent. Apparently, he was spending the morning recuperating from his evening.

  The thought of Blackwood though soured Simon’s mood, and he instinctively sought out Elizabeth. She looked very much at home and quite lovely in her white dress and broad-rimmed sunhat. She waved to him from a spot in a canvas recliner in the impromptu stands that had been set-up on the edge of one the estate’s lush lawns.

  As he grew near, she grinned up at him, handing him a towel and a glass of lemonade.

  “Did we win?” she asked.

  Simon laughed. “It’s not over. I doubt it ever will be. Roxbury’s team w
as trouncing us.”

  George passed by and clapped Simon on the back. “Well, to be fair. I think without Lord Willingham you never had a chance.”

  Lord Willingham was a round little man who’d given up in the first innings and taken a nap by a large oak tree somewhere in the general vicinity of his cow corner position.

  “Someone go make sure he’s alive, will you?” Roxbury called out, pointing to the still napping Willingham.

  Simon wiped his forehead and neck with the towel, and drank half of his lemonade without taking a breath.

  Elizabeth’s smile grew even broader. “We should do this more often.”

  Simon snorted. “A pick-up game of cricket?”

  She stepped close to him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this relaxed.”

  He nodded and flipped the towel around his neck. “I wish I—”

  “Good game,” Graham said, coming around to shake hands.

  “Match,” Simon corrected him.

  Graham shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ll never get it all straight. I was never much for team sports.”

  “You did very well,” Simon said with a smile behind his lemonade glass. “For an American.”

  Graham laughed and then turned back to where Katherine Vale had been sitting. She’d left barely an hour into the contest.

  “She’s been getting worse,” he said quietly. “Katherine.”

  Simon felt fresh tension join the soreness in his muscles. “How so?”

  Graham frowned and shook his head. “It’s like she’s a different person somehow.”

  Simon and Elizabeth exchanged worried glances.

  “What do you mean?”

  Graham sighed. “At first I thought it was because of those memory lapses.”

  Several weeks ago, Graham had asked Simon if he’d been experiencing any peculiar omissions in his memory. He’d considered lying, but Graham was astute and if Vale was suffering from them, it could work to their advantage. She was, and so was Graham.

  “But it’s more than that,” Graham continued. “It’s the way she looks at me sometimes. I’m not the nervous type, but it’s unsettling.”