“You will do very nicely,” she told it, undoing the sturdy clip and carefully placing her loot inside. It shut with a reassuring snap, and the plum-and-gold carpet felt both soft and strong. It would not look out of place, and there was room in it for more of her traveling necessities.
Once back in the vintage room she set about putting together a new outfit. Liam was going to get what he could from a costume hire shop, but she would need a change of clothing. She needed one that looked a little finer, but also was better suited to the warm summer weather. She would have to spend a good portion of her money on new clothes when she arrived, which would at least give her the perfect excuse to go back to the dress shop. If the bride’s wedding gown—her wedding gown—was being made there, it was a good place to have in common with the young woman. Xanthe could only hope the proprietor would regard her more favorably if she had no dog with her this time, and money to spend. With increasing frustration she realized there wasn’t much that would look more authentic than the pieces she had already found. She took some strings of fake pearls that should pass as there wouldn’t have been such convincing imitations at that time. A chiffon scarf would do as an insert to another low-cut cotton narrow-striped maxi dress in cream and peach, with another silk one cinching the thing in just below the bust. She tried it on and studied her reflection in one of the remaining mirrors. She experienced a brief shudder at the memory of Mistress Merton emerging from her reflection to terrify her. Could that all have happened only a few months ago? So much in her life had changed since then. So much about herself. There was no time to dwell on what she might have done differently. Remembering how important gloves would be, even in hot weather, she rifled through a box of accessories and found two leather pairs, one white and the other pale blue with buttons at the cuffs. As she secured the final items in her bag she decided she would leave her other one behind, transferring everything into the more convincing carpet bag before she entered the blind house. There was one further thing she had at last decided about: She would take Spinners with her. She would need it now more than ever. She felt that she had only just begun to understand its workings and to be able to learn from it. The thought of being parted from it was dreadful. It was so much a part of who she was now. She knew there was a risk, taking it to within Fairfax’s reach, yet that too seemed to be necessary. If the Spinners book was what he was after—and she was increasingly sure this was the case—better that she draw him closer to her, not send him back to her own time in search of it while she wasn’t there. She would take the astrolabe from him and destroy it. Beyond that, she would have to assess the situation and think on her feet.
* * *
The following day Liam went to Devises to the costume hire shop they had found on the internet the night before. The plan was that he should get them an outfit each, with some extra bits and pieces for authenticity. Already Xanthe was blessing the fact that she did not have to do everything by herself and in secret anymore. In the kitchen she filled Flora in on the details of the tactics she and Liam had devised. She had scrambled some eggs and set the plates of food on the table as her mother poured strong black coffee.
“Here you go, Mum. Try not to completely smother it in brown sauce.” She sat down in the chair opposite and ground black pepper over her breakfast. “You will eat properly while I’m away, won’t you? You’ll have to break the habits of a lifetime and go to the supermarket. There’s not enough in the fridge to last until market day.”
“Xanthe, love, I am a grown woman living in a town that exists largely to persuade people to eat. I won’t starve in a few days.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. How long we’ll be gone. It feels so strange to be able to say that.”
“Strange but good,” said Flora, gently pushing Pie’s paws off her lap and passing the wagging dog a toast crust to nibble. “It’s so much better that there will be two of you. He’ll be such a help.”
“I hope so. It takes a bit of getting used to, being in a different time.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I felt that and I was only there a few minutes.”
“I need him to be less, well, less Liam. He’s a bit exuberant for the era.”
Flora laughed. “Bet he’s never been called that before!”
“We are going to stay at the tearooms and put it about that Mistress Flyte is our aunt. We’ve come to Bradford-on-Avon to escape the heat and stink of London in the summer. Maybe take the spa waters at Bath.”
“I’m surprised Liam agreed to you being brother and sister. Thought he might prefer you pretending to be husband and wife.”
“He did suggest it.”
“You weren’t keen?”
She shook her head as she ate her breakfast, ignoring the questioning expression on her mother’s face. “I need to get close to Fairfax’s fiancée. It’s easier for me to do that as an unmarried woman. We’ll have more in common, be in similar circles, wear the same sorts of things. Lots of that changes once you’re married. The etiquette is a minefield.”
“Oh dear, how will you remember it all? I’m sure I’d get it wrong.”
“My tactic has always been to follow the lead of others, watch what they are doing and copy that. And try not to draw attention to myself. Which didn’t really work when I was presenting myself as a minstrel,” she added, thinking of her performance at the birthday celebrations of Clara Lovewell. On that occasion, a few months and several centuries earlier, she had used a rousing, bawdy song which had proved hugely popular. It had upped the tempo of the evening, kicking off dancing, which Xanthe narrowly escaped. To be found unable to join in the popular dance of the day would have marked her out as strange indeed, particularly given her cover story of being a player and a minstrel in a theatrical troupe.
“But you’re not going to be a singer this time?”
“A well-brought-up young lady from a prosperous family wouldn’t be making money doing anything, but … and this is the helpful thing really … all girls were encouraged to be accomplished. They had to be able to sing, play the piano, paint, do needlework…”
“I hope nobody asks you to sew anything,” said Flora, feeding Pie another bite of toast.
“It’s unlikely. But I can offer to sing. So can Liam, if it comes to it. Or he can accompany me. He’s pretty competent on the keyboards, after all. I found a song we can use and we’ve been practicing it every chance we’ve had.”
Flora was thoughtful for a moment and then said, “I envy you both. Such an adventure.”
“You’ve been so brilliant about all this, Mum. So trusting, after all the times I’ve lied to you … and you believed me when I told you the whole story, I think, even before I took you through the blind house.”
“Antiques have been singing to you since you were eight, love. You’ve been able to tell me things about their history that no one else could have known any other way. Maybe, after all, it’s not such a leap for me to make to imagine those same objects drawing you back to their own day and the origins of their story.”
Xanthe studied her expression. “I don’t want you to spend the time I’m away worrying about me. That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“My magical daughter? With her trusty sidekick? Why would I worry? Any more toast going? Pie seems to have eaten most of mine.”
After their meal Xanthe went downstairs to open the shop and look for a couple more valuables to take in lieu of money. She had been reluctant to take more good stock, but Flora had insisted, saying it was better to have too much than too little, and that she could always bring it back if she didn’t need it. As she hunted for suitable pieces she served customers and chatted to browsers, all the while pondering the madness of doing such normal things when she was about to do something so extraordinary. There were one or two early browsers and three customers who bought a set of four flower paintings, a Royal Albert china trio of plate, cup, and saucer, and a small wooden milking stool. When the doorbell rang again Xan
the turned with her professional smile already in place only to find Gerri elbowing her way through the door, a pile of vintage clothes over one arm and her hands full with a tray of chocolate flapjacks.
“Morning!” She kicked the door shut behind her with a perfectly polished Mary Jane shoe, her full 1940s skirt swirling as she did so.
“Gerri, you are a vision. Nailed the vintage look again, new clothes for the shop, and treats. I don’t know how you do it.”
“My mother always told me I was a hectic child who had to be doing three things at once. I suppose I’ve never lost the habit.”
“Please don’t, it’s our gain. Here, let me help you with those.” Xanthe took the flapjacks and followed Gerri through to the vintage clothes room.
“You’ve managed to get rid of the smell of smoke,” Gerri said, setting down the things she’d brought. “It’s really fine in here. It’s a wonder there wasn’t more damage. Are you any closer to finding out what caused it?”
Xanthe hesitated, then said vaguely, “Oh, they think probably an electrical fault. We’re getting someone in to check the wiring out. Wow, that’s a lovely jacket you’ve found there.”
“Isn’t it?” Gerri held up the garment of soft green silk, beautifully tailored and slim fitting. “It’s small, but will look fabulous on the right person. And there’s a midi skirt to match, see? Emporio Armani.”
“Wherever did you find it?”
“A friend of my mother’s is downsizing her house and was having a clear-out. It gave me an idea: Why don’t we advertise a sort of wardrobe clearance service?”
“You mean, house clearance but specifically for clothes? D’you think people would go for that?”
“Decluttering is all the rage. People get daunted by the stuff they’ve collected. Not to mention embarrassed about all the impulse buys they’ve never worn. If we offer a small payment for the good pieces they’ll feel better about the whole thing.”
“You might be onto something. Mum could put an ad together for the local paper, maybe some fliers in the shop and on the town notice board.”
“Shall we tell her about it over a flapjack? My mum’s watching the tea shop for ten minutes for me.”
“Actually, I’m a bit pushed for time. Can we talk about it again when I get back?”
“You’re going away again? Looks like you’ll be moving back to London at this rate, all these gigs.”
“What? Oh, no. Just a couple of days up north. Another antiques fair…” She trailed off unconvincingly and was relieved to be interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
She was about to go back into the shop when they heard brisk footsteps and Liam called out, “Xanthe, you there? Wait till you see what I found. The boy done good. Plunging neckline for you and the tightest of tight breeches for me. Oh, hi, Gerri.” He stopped in the doorway, costumes held aloft.
Xanthe opened her mouth to say something but Liam beat her to it.
“We’re going to a fancy dress party,” he blurted out.
“Oh? That’s … lovely. Xanthe, you’re full of surprises today. Is it before or after the antiques fair?”
To which Liam answered “before” and Xanthe answered “after” at exactly the same moment.
Gerri laughed, taking one of her own flapjacks from the tray and shaking her head as she moved toward the door. “Well, well, well. Seems like you two have got lots going on.” She grinned, giving them a knowing look. “I’ll leave you to it then. See you when you get back,” she said with a wave.
“Bye, Gerri, and thanks!” Xanthe called after her.
“Ouch,” said Liam as they heard the shop door close.
“Now she thinks we’re off on a romantic mini break that involves dressing up,” she groaned.
“It was all I could think of. I’m not used to having to lie on the spot like that.”
“Welcome to my world,” she said, helping herself to a flapjack and biting into it hungrily. “At least I don’t have to lie to you and Mum anymore.”
“It must have been tough. Never mind. You’ve got me to help now. And you are going to love the gear I found us.”
“Plunging neckline?”
* * *
By lunchtime all preparations were in place and there was just one thing Xanthe needed to do before they could leave. Once she had finished packing, she headed for The Feathers. She found Harley in the kitchen. When he saw her he hurried forward.
“Come away upstairs, lassie. They can manage without me for five minutes,” he said, ignoring the stern look from Annie that said otherwise.
“No, it’s OK. You’re in the middle of the lunchtime rush. I just wanted to see you before I left.”
“Did you bring me the book to look after? I’ve been thinking about a safe place to put it ever since you said you’d like me to guard it for you.”
“Actually no, I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to take it with me.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? If you’re right and it’s what Fairfax wants, it’s a big risk to take it to his very door.”
“It is, but I think it’s a necessary one. I need it, Harley. I feel … uneasy being parted from it. And the times it has shown me most is when I’ve been back in the past with it. I can study it there more effectively than here. I need its help. And, well, it might just be I can use it to trap Fairfax somehow.”
Harley let out a low whistle. “It’s up to you, lassie.”
“You think it’s the wrong thing to do?”
He gave a shrug. “Maybe you should keep it with you. Keep it close. Just promise me you won’t let Fairfax get his filthy hands on it.”
“I promise. Thanks, Harley. I couldn’t do all this without you, you know that?”
“I know nothing of the sort, but I’m happy to play my part, however small.”
Xanthe gave him a hug, laughing at the thought of such a bear of a man ever doing anything in a small way. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and left, feeling that with both Harley and Flora working as the home team while she and Liam were traveling, they were all a little bit safer.
11
Liam stood in the kitchen, arms akimbo, evidently delighted with his costume.
“Well, what d’you think?” he asked.
“I think it looks like fancy dress because that’s what it is.”
“Not impressed, then?”
“It’ll do until we can buy something better.”
“Looks fine to me,” he muttered, smoothing down the velvet of his cutaway red jacket. “What’s wrong with it?”
“For a start, the color,” she told him. “The Napoleonic wars had just finished. People had got beyond celebration into a bit of somber realization that half the country’s male population and half its wealth had gone into years of fighting. France and America, according to my intensive googling. Most men wore dark blues, blacks, and browns. Also, that … thing at your neck.”
“My spotty cravat?”
“Should be white. And starched. And your breeches are more eighteenth century than nineteenth, with those bows, dear God.”
“I promise you, it was the best Devises had to offer. Does the hat at least meet with your approval?” he asked, briefly raising and repositioning his black hat. It had a deep crown and a narrow brim and was not hugely different from the one Samuel used to wear.
Xanthe tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the dressmakers and tailors as soon as we arrive. We’ll stick to our story that our trunk was lost on the journey up from London, so we need new clothes while we are visiting our aunt.”
“It’s great we’ve got a place to stay with your friend.”
She nodded, trying to ignore the persistent thought that Mistress Flyte was not going to approve of her taking Liam. She’d just have to persuade her it was a sensible idea and hope that, when it came to it, she would support them in their plan.
Flora came into the kitchen and held out a silver chain. “Here, love, take this one too. It’s pretty good
quality and an easy thing to sell, I should imagine.”
“Mum, I already have so much stuff.…”
“Just take it,” she repeated, closing her daughter’s fingers around the cool links.
Xanthe gave Flora a long hug and then quickly pulled away, not wanting to make parting more difficult for either of them. She nodded, smiled, and left the kitchen before either of them had time to get emotional. They both knew this trip back was likely to take some time, though neither knew exactly how long.
Liam paused as he passed Flora, taking a moment to say a few reassuring words, until Xanthe called from the bottom of the stairs, urging him to get a move on.
At the entrance to the blind house they quickly ran through a checklist of everything they needed to have with them. As she held it, she felt the wedding dress tremble and heard its song, high and clear above the whispered entreaties of the souls that called to her from distant times.
She looked at Liam. “Ready?” she asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” he said.
She took his hand and led him into the darkness.
“Do you know where we’re going to end up?” he asked, a slight catch in his voice giving away the nervousness he was otherwise successfully concealing.
“That’s the one thing I can’t be a hundred percent sure of, but I’m working on it,” she told him.
“Reassuring,” he muttered.
“Hush now. I need to concentrate. I’m going to try something slightly different.”
“Again…”
“Liam … Here, come closer.” She let him encircle her with one arm while she held his other hand, the wedding gown clasped between them, the carpet bag over his shoulder. “Close your eyes,” she said, reasoning that he would be more likely to keep quiet and stay focused that way. She ignored the cries and pleas of those who felt her presence in the blind house. She wondered briefly at what point Fairfax would detect her traveling and whether or not he would be able to sense Liam also. As she let the dress pull her she recited the words she had learned from Spinners, adding a request that she be taken to Mistress Flyte and none other. Over and over she said the words, softly but firmly, her mind set, her will strong. Moments later the sensation of falling became noticeable. She squeezed Liam’s hand and together they plummeted down through the centuries.
The Garden of Promises and Lies Page 15