The Time Baroness (The Time Mistress Series)

by Georgina Young-Ellis

  “I think you are probably stronger and quicker if that is what you mean.”

  “Good,” he said.

  “But I do not know how to drive a carriage,” she worried.

  “You do not have to drive it, just hold the horses there. If anyone threatening approaches you, put them to sleep. We should both have some of the elixir on us. Also, we shall situate you far enough away so that you will not seem suspicious.”

  “But not too far.”

  “Agreed.”

  Once all of the details were worked out, Cassandra went back to her hotel to send a note to Ben. There was one waiting there from him, a worried missive, wondering if she was all right. She replied:

  My Dearest Ben,

  I am so sorry to have caused you concern. I am indeed, quite ill— worse than before. I am determined to go briefly to see James this morning, and then must stay in and should not receive visitors—I especially do not want to infect you. I will send word the moment I am on the mend for I loathe to be without you so long.

  Yours,

  Cassandra

  That sent, she changed into a simpler dress and had herself driven out to Millbank. She and James whispered in French to not be understood by the guards and other prisoners (they both knew enough to communicate basically – Virtual Enhanced Learning Environments in many languages were part of all time travelers’ training). She told him about their plan and about the dissolving mist for the player. He was excited and scared. James was also concerned how she would get to the device. The lawyers had told them it was still kept at the central police station quite near Covent Garden. She’d have to go there, she said, but not until he was safely through the portal exit. She told him to expect them around three in the morning and snuck his pocket watch to him to keep track of the time.

  She went to the window, which was about shoulder height, to determine exactly where his cell was situated. She looked up and noticed a flagpole, sticking out from the roof of the building, flying the Union Jack. His window was five down and three to the left of the pole. They’d have to get it right. She told him to tie a white cloth to the bars, which were set just inside a pane of glass. It would not be seen from the guard’s station, but Nick would be able to detect it when he got close enough. Then she kissed her son goodbye and left.

  She went back to the hotel to rest. When she got there, there was a little bouquet of autumn flowers waiting for her from Ben with a get well wish. God, he’s sweet, she thought. I may never find another one like him. But now wasn’t the time to think about it. She was able to sleep for a few hours, eat some supper, and calm herself at the piano.

  A knock sounded on her suite door two full hours before she expected Nick. Her maid went to answer it, and in a moment came into the parlor to announce the visitor.

  “A Sir Frederick Collins is here to see you, ma’am.”

  Cassandra was dumbstruck. Sir Frederick Collins? she thought. The Baronet of Sorrel Hall? It couldn’t be!

  “Please, show him in,” Cassandra replied,

  A moment later, a short, stout man with spectacles and a smattering of wispy gray and black hair stood before her. He had moved into the room with great purpose and importance, but the moment he registered Cassandra’s face, he stopped as if uncertain how to proceed. “G-good evening, Mrs. Franklin,” he stammered. “I am Sir Frederick Collins, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Cassandra was infinitely surprised to finally be meeting the Baronet so unexpectedly, but she composed herself and moved forward with all the grace she could muster, extending her hand to him and smiling. “Sir Frederick! What an immense honor it is to meet you face to face. Please, won’t you sit down?” She gestured to a small divan by the fire.

  “Um, yes, thank you,” he said, not taking his eyes off of her.

  “Would you care for a sherry?” she offered.

  “Um, no, no, that will not be necessary, I am here, well, rather, that is…I am here on business.”

  “Sir Frederick,” she began, feeling as if perhaps the purpose of his visit was not going to be to her liking, and hoping to distract him. “Before you share the reason for your honoring me this meeting, let me say that I could not be more in debt to you for allowing me to inhabit, truly, one of the most beautiful and elegant homes I have ever in my life been privileged to see. Sorrel Hall has been a veritable heaven to me. Yes, absolute heaven. From the moment I arrived there last January, I have felt that living there was like having my own little piece of paradise. Your and Lady Collins’ exquisite taste in décor, your painstaking upkeep of the house and property, your expert staff, have been a joy to my existence each and every day. How can I ever thank you for agreeing to let me reside there this past year?”

  The man opened his mouth to speak, closed it, thought for a moment and took a breath. “Well! My goodness. I am so happy that everything has met so much with your approval.”

  “Beyond that,” Cassandra gushed, “Really, beyond that.”

  “I see, well, um—” He was still staring at her, transfixed. “I only came to say that—”

  “Sir Frederick, are you sure I cannot offer you that sherry?”

  “Oh,” he chuckled nervously, “Maybe after all—”

  Cassandra leapt up and rang a bell. “Oh good, I am so glad. On a chilly night like this, there is nothing like it to warm the spirit.”

  The maid entered. “Regina, could you please bring Sir Frederick a glass of the finest sherry?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she replied, and scurried off.

  “Now, my dear sir,” Cassandra smiled warmly, “won’t you please tell me what brings you here this evening?” She sat back in the chair opposite him.

  “Well, I…yes.” He cleared his throat and lifted his chin. “I, that is, my wife, that is, we are anxious over this business with your son, to be quite frank.”

  Cassandra’s look turned to one of eager concern. “Oh, yes,” she said. “I am sure you have read of it in the papers. I am so very distressed, as you might imagine. Of course, the whole thing is simply a misunderstanding. You know, in America, things are very different. There are many mysteries as yet unsolved, stemming from the native peoples and their ways.”

  She rose and walked back and forth before the fire, aware that he was observing her figure as she did so. “I am afraid that my son was curious and got mixed up with those who were experimenting with certain objects and theories. I really do not understand it myself.” She went to sit dangerously close to him on the divan and gazed into his eyes. “But I am sure it will be all straightened out in the trial. I know that Lady Charles is a reasonable person, as we all are, and this whole matter will be laid to rest.”

  “I do c-certainly hope so,” he managed to spit out, “because my wife is concerned about our good name, and that of Sorrel Hall, being connected with a scandal, you know.”

  “Of course. But we are all educated, rational people. Sometimes there is the seemingly inexplicable, but in the end, there is always a logical reason for everything.”

  Regina came in with the sherry, and Sir Frederick took it from her and slugged down a large gulp.

  Cassandra lowered her eyes. “I guess this is a good time to tell you, that I will not be requiring the use of Sorrel Hall after January, but I hope that you will be good enough to let me finish out my year’s lease as our attorneys agreed upon. And, as a gesture of good will, I would like to now offer you an additional half-year’s rental payment, for your kindness and understanding in this matter. This has been a difficult time for me, and knowing that I have Sorrel Hall to return to when this whole mess is over, is of infinite comfort. I hope you will not refuse me. I feel it is the least I can do for you and Lady Collins, since you have already been so very generous with me.” She looked up at him again, deeply into his eyes.

  His mouth fell open. “Why, thank you, Mrs. Franklin, that is a most exceptional offer. I am sure my wife will be pleased.”

  “Very good, then.” Cassandra
rose. Nick was expected at ten, and she wanted this man gone. “When shall I have the money delivered to you?”

  “Whenever it is convenient, I mean, really it is no rush, you know. I am in London for another two weeks on some other business.”

  “All right then,” said Cassandra smiling, “you shall have it in a day or two.” She gently took his arm and began walking him toward the parlor door. She leaned in close to him so he could breathe the mild perfume of her soap. He was shorter than her, so his eyes were positioned to easily take in her modest cleavage.

  “Thank you so much for this delightful visit,” she said. “It has done my heart good to finally meet the man to whom I owe so much of my happiness at Sorrel Hall. I do hope we have the opportunity to meet again.”

  “Yes, I hope so too,” he breathed, looking directly at her breasts. “It has been a delight.”

  She let go of his arm and offered him her hand to kiss. “If you do not mind,” she said, “please leave your address with the clerk downstairs.”

  “Oh, yes, yes,” he said, and he placed a slobbery kiss on her hand.

  “By the way,” she couldn’t help but ask, “how on earth did you know where to find me?”

  “Oh, you know,” he mumbled. “My attorneys, they have their, ahem, ways.”

  “Of course,” she laughed. “Well good evening.” She smiled enchantingly as she slowly closed the door on him, he looking her up and down one last time. She heard Regina helping him with his things, and finally, the outer door closed.

  She wiped her hand on her dress. She was not pleased with herself for the disgusting display of feminine wiles, but the performance had been necessary. And of course, the mention of the attorneys and the few hundred pounds didn’t hurt either. She took a deep breath. She needed to focus on what lay ahead. She shivered at what she knew she and Nick had to do.

  Nick arrived on time, and they spent a couple of hours going over and over the plan. Finally, Cassandra realized there was a snag. What was she going to do with the horses after Nick and James went through the portal exit? But Nick had thought about it. It required Cassandra driving the carriage a few blocks to his store. He had already alerted his shop boy, who was slightly slow-witted, that a lady would bring the horses to the shop early in the morning and ring the bell, and that he was to take the horses and carriage to the stable house. The boy would not ask her any questions. They decided that they would leave for Millbank early, so she could practice driving on the empty streets.

  Nick left the hotel around midnight, taking his set of black clothes with him. Cassandra pretended to go to bed, so Regina wouldn’t think anything was strange and would go to sleep herself.

  At one-thirty, she dressed in her black gown, grabbed her sleep potion, and added it to the satchel of necessities. She crept out of the suite, downstairs, and past the dozing desk clerk. Nick was waiting for her a little ways up the block with his small, enclosed carriage, pulled by only two horses. He was sitting up on the driver’s bench and Cassandra climbed on to join him.

  Once out of the center of the city, he stopped the carriage and she took the reins. After ten minutes or so, she got the hang of starting, stopping, and turning well enough so she thought she could handle it alone. Nick drove the rest of the way and parked in a humble neighborhood within sight of the prison, but where the carriage could not be seen by the guards. They hugged each other for luck. Nick put on his hood, took the satchel, which now also contained the clothing for James, and headed toward the prison. They were already on the same side of the facility as James’ cell.

  First Nick extracted the sound blocking machine, activated it, and put it back in the satchel where it would continue to obscure all sound for twenty feet. He used the setting that allowed for no one outside of the radius to hear his actions or speech, though he was able to hear both within and without that same radius. As he approached the outer wall of Millbank, he removed the balled-up ladder and grasped a bud on two ends of string, letting the small sphere drop to the ground and unroll. He held it at arm’s length, pinched the buds, and the string instantly sprang into an impossibly skinny ladder of fifteen feet, stiff and unbendable. Nick placed it against the wall and began to climb. Though the rungs were only a half an inch wide, they were strong as iron and tacky to the touch. He was on top of the wall in a moment, satchel in hand. He deactivated the ladder, pulled it up, activated it again on the other side of the wall, and climbed down, finally reinstating it to the satchel.

  Staying low, he crept up to the building, keeping the flagpole in sight. It was a dark night, and he had to assume the guards were asleep. They had lanterns at their posts, but the feeble candlelight only penetrated a few feet. Once up against the building, and being careful to avoid the first floor windows, he looked up to locate James’. He counted five down and three over from the flag pole, which glimmered faintly at the top of the building. There was just enough starlight to dimly reflect on it and the windows of the prison.

  He activated the ladder again and climbed up. The white rag was tied to the bar. He rapped quietly on the window, and James came up to it and waved. Nick motioned him to move back from the window. Secure that his actions couldn’t be detected by ear, he removed the V-FOG, attached it to the glass, where it stuck by suction, and activated it by pressing a tiny switch on the side. Within a few seconds, the glass began to vibrate violently. Nick backed a few rungs down and turned his face away. The glass shattered with a pop and glass rained over him. He heard the V-FOG clatter down the ladder and reached out to catch it. He then scurried back up and attached it to the bars with a wire fastener. He activated it again, and again he moved down and out of the way. This time, the shaking created a great grinding noise. The bars fell out of the window in one piece as he swung around to the back of the ladder just in time to avoid being hit. They landed on the ground with thud and the V-FOG deactivated itself. He scrambled back up, threw the black clothing in to James and motioned him to hurry. James put the clothes on over what he was wearing and donned the hood.

  “Grab the sheets off your bed!” whispered Nick.

  “What? Why?” replied James.

  “Just do it!”

  James pulled off the rough cotton sheets and, standing on a chair, stuffed them out the window. Nick threw them to the ground. The only thing James took from his cell was his journal and his pocket watch, which he snatched up and stuffed into his shirt. He then clambered out the window, while Nick climbed down the ladder before him.

  Just as they reached the ground, Nick put out his hand to stop James. A guard was coming around the side of the building on his rounds, lantern swinging. They stood still, but it was clear that he would collide with them if he didn’t see them first. Nick reached in the satchel and pulled out a bottle of sleep elixir. The guard moved to within the sound-proofed area and spotted two black-clad figures, hovering before him like phantoms. Horror stricken, he shouted with alarm, and blew hard on his whistle, though it was unheard by anyone. As he stood uselessly blowing, Nick ran up to him, grabbed his arm, and touched him on his exposed wrist with the sleep elixir. The guard tried to wrench away, but James went to Nick’s aid, and they both wrestled the large man to the ground, James kicking over the lantern to extinguish it.

  The guard struggled wildly, but not for long. His strength soon began to ebb and within two minutes was fast asleep. Nick grabbed up the sheets and quickly tied them together. He nodded at James, and they ran across the yard to the wall. They easily scaled the ladder up one side and down the other. Nick left the bundle of sheets at the bottom of the wall. James cocked his head inquisitively.

  “Let them figure it out,” Nick whispered. “At least they can imagine that you used them in some way to get over the wall.”

  The two men then continued noiselessly to the carriage, where Cassandra sat shivering with cold and anxiety. The men removed their hoods, and Nick helped Cassandra down off the bench and into the coach with her son.

  Nick drove while Cass
andra sat inside with James, clinging to him and weeping for joy. James was tense, worried that they wouldn’t get to the portal exit before they were apprehended. But the streets were bare. It would probably be past daybreak before anyone noticed the sleeping guard or looked in on James’ cell. They left the sound blocker engaged until they were well into the center of town.

  Once they approached the area around Covent Garden, the wheels began rattling away on the cobblestone streets. Nick pulled up in front of the alleyway. Cassandra and James could just make out, through the carriage windows, the sleeping figures of some ragged men at the far end of the alley. There was the faintest light in the sky.

  Nick came around to open the door. He was holding a cello case by the handle.

  “What is that?” asked Cassandra.

  “My cello.”

  “I know it is a—”

  “I could not leave it behind, so I stuck it in the luggage compartment of the carriage. It is the only thing I am taking back with me.”

  “Of course,” she smiled.

  “Hurry now,” he said, turning to James. “We have to be careful, though, not to wake the beggars.”

  “Good-bye, my sweetheart,” said Cassandra and clasped her son in her arms.

  “Mom, I am so sorry—” he began.

  “Shhh,” she replied, “I love you so much. You are my boy, and nothing else matters. I am glad we experienced this together.”

  He hugged and kissed her. “Mom, be careful. Promise me you will be careful. Are you sure you will be all right?”

  “Yes. I am going to the police station now. I will just pretend to be an addled woman. You will have to trust, until you see me on January twelfth, that I will be fine. I have Ben to take care of me.”

  “But you promise you will come back? You will not stay here for love, will you?”

  “I promise, James. Nothing is more important than you.”