Intertwine (House of Oak Book 1)

by Nichole Van

  Her own face. Serene, happy, incandescent. Gazing out as if she held the world in her hands.

  Both of them. Together.

  All painted with Spunto’s careful detail. Each minute feature delicately rendered.

  Emme glanced to the left of the locket case. She read the inscription.

  To E,

  throughout all time,

  heart of my soul,

  your F

  Puzzled, Emme looked up.

  “Still with the F?” she asked.

  “Oh yes,” he replied softly and raised a hand to stroke her cheek in wonder. “That was the most important detail of all.”

  “Really? The most important?”

  James nodded. Leaned forward. Rested his forehead against hers.

  “Indeed. Because I am truly your . . .”

  He paused and smiled.

  Then whispered one word.

  There are moments in life that sear into the soul. Brief witnesses of something larger.

  When so many threads collapse into one. Coalesce into a single beautiful truth.

  This was one of those moments.

  Emme gasped and let out a muffled sob and pulled him fiercely to her and kissed him.

  Kissed him until people cat-called and whistled. Kissed him until shadows stretched and purpled. Kissed him knowing she would never, ever let him go.

  Kissed him as that one perfect whispered word echoed in her soul.

  Forever.

  Epilogue

  Happily-ever-after began on March 20, 2013 around 7:12 pm.

  Though Emry Knight née Wilde generally considered it more of a continuation of her already blissful happiness rather than any real beginning.

  Of course, her brother Marc, her mother and new sister, Georgiana, completely agreed.

  Emme’s best friend, Jasmine, had merely smirked knowingly, stating she had always believed in this divinely mystical union of predestined souls. Emme’s new husband—dreamy in full Regency gentleman’s dress in colors of cream and tan—asserted that ‘mystical’ was far too tame a word to describe the depth of his love for her.

  It all happened one beautiful evening on a secluded beach outside Nassau in the Bahamas.

  Marc had walked her along the sand toward James, all broad smiles, his eyes full of wonder and promise. Georgiana as her maid of honor at his side, healthy and glowing. Emme had worn an ivory high-waisted Empire dress of flowing chiffon with a wildflower wreath in her hair. The new locket glinted around her neck.

  Drawing near James, Marc had placed her hand in his, smiling as he pecked Emme’s cheek, telling James to care for her. James, for his part, had merely nodded, his eyes too full of emotion to speak.

  They had said their vows over the lap of waves and the rustle of palm fronds, the sun skimming the horizon and bathing them all in golden haze. Promising to have and hold and honor, though Emme secretly added the words live and love and laugh, as well. Afterward, Jasmine—still dabbing at her eyes—had hinted at little Knights in their future.

  It had been another perfectly perfect moment. But with James around, Emme had sort of given up counting perfect moments. There were too many of them.

  Emme had thought nothing could be more delicious than James in full Regency dress. But then, that first week after coming through the portal, he had walked out in a pair of Marc’s designer jeans, a tight t-shirt and sunglasses.

  Emme had melted into a little puddle on the spot. It was the closest Emme had ever come to a full-on swoon.

  Life with James had most certainly not been boring. They spent nearly all their time in a constant whirlwind of travel. Moving almost nonstop from one new place to another. James’ curiosity seemed insatiable at times. He loved different people and different places, loved exploring the nuance of culture.

  Marc had secured documentation for James and Georgiana. Emme had chosen not to ask him for too many details. His only comment had been that money could buy just about anything and that he had acquired everything legally. Sort of. Again, Emme wisely chose not to ask questions.

  To Emme’s dismay, she still experienced the occasional traveling disaster. But somehow they were never as bad with James. He always found the unexpected to be thrilling, forcing her to see the fun in the situation (Look, Emme, grubs! Who knew they could be so tasty?). Marc had also been teaching marital art forms to James. While James, for his part, had helped Marc add ‘fencing master’ to his resume.

  Emme was still trying to figure out what to do with her last name. She had always intended to just hyphenate when she got married, but Marc had been the first to realize that would make her Emry Wilde-Knight. Which was not exactly the professional vibe she was going for in a last name. And Marc, being Marc, couldn’t just let it slip by. The jokes were still on-going, many of which had made even James blush.

  This balmy October day found them outside Escalante, Utah, exploring the red rock canyons of the southwestern United States.

  “Wow, this is really high . . . not looking down . . . tell me I can do this.”

  “You can do this.”

  “Okay, now say it in your sexiest I-was-born-a-nineteenth-century-aristocrat voice . . . with extra gravitas.”

  James chuckled.

  “Emme, my dearest love, you are the bravest woman I know. You can do this, darling.”

  Silence.

  “Oh . . . wow . . . it’s sooooo high. . . .”

  Emme swallowed and forced herself not to look down. Marc snapped the rope below, causing it to jump slightly in her hand.

  “Marcus David Wilde!” she shrieked.

  “I think you’re going to have to throw her over,” Marc called up to James.

  “That doesn’t seem particularly sporting,” James yelled down to him. “Though how long before the harness starts to chafe?”

  Marc shook his head. “C’mon, Ems. Just do it,” he called up. “I would hate to show James the video. You know the one I’m talking about. When you were twelve and still liked My Little Pony but also had a crush on Jason Hawks and you pretended to kiss . . .”

  That did it.

  Marc stopped talking as Emme walked backward over the edge, rappelling smoothly down the red sandstone cliff, Marc’s laugh following her all the way.

  “Works every time,” he said with a chuckle as she landed at his feet. “You really should’ve destroyed that video when you had the chance.”

  Emme just glared mock-daggers at him.

  “Marc, what is My Little Pony?” James called down. “And why would Emme want to crush this Jason Hawks?”

  Marc laughed even harder. Emme shook her head and then smiled ruefully, watching as James clipped in and slid easily down the rope to join them.

  The narrow slot canyon glowed burnished orange, washed and sculpted from eons of water and wind. Sunlight filtered slowly down its steep walls, nearly fifty feet high but only two feet wide.

  James slipped an arm around her as Marc coiled rope behind them.

  “What was that you asked me earlier? If I had claustra . . .?” James trailed off, trying to remember.

  “Claustrophobia,” Emme helpfully prompted. “It’s a fear of enclosed spaces.”

  James paused, considering the idea for a moment. And then shook his head.

  “No, I can’t say this place makes me feel anything other than awestruck.”

  He looked around at the narrow undulating canyon walls. Nature scrubbed of life. Raw and elemental. Just rock and sand and wind, twisting, bending, coiling around each other. The reddish walls blushed with vibrant color.

  “You were right. This is breathtakingly unique. Who could have imagined that such a place existed?”

  Emme nodded. “I can think of few places that are as opposite Duir Cottage in lush green England than the slot canyons of the American desert southwest.”

  “Yes, though I am glad that Georgiana enjoys life in Herefordshire. Her last message indicated that she is doing well. I wish she could really love 21st century
life.”

  “Not everyone is as adaptable as you,” she said, giving him a small hug.

  “True,” James let out a wondrous sigh. “I never knew such contentment was possible. It’s as if the entire universe has finally righted itself for me. I have never felt so complete, so much myself.”

  Emme laughed and kissed his cheek fondly.

  “Come now, something must have surprised you.”

  “Well, of course a great number of things have surprised me. And I still may never forgive you for not telling me about football.”

  “Seriously, Emme!” Marc said, coming to stand next to them, rope coiled over his shoulder. “You really have a shocking tendency to ignore the important things in life. By the way, Bronco kick-off on ESPN is in less than three hours. So we should really keep going. I think there is an arch just around the next bend, and I want to savor every inch of this canyon. It’s too amazing to do otherwise.”

  This pretty much summed up how Emme felt. As she turned down the narrow canyon, she vowed to treasure every moment of life together with James.

  Upcoming Books

  The House of Oak series will eventually feature four books (and perhaps a prequel novella showing how the locket was sent on its way to the US, but I haven’t firmed that up yet).

  As of this writing, the books in the series will be:

  Intertwine (James and Emme)

  Divine (Georgiana and Sebastian—coming November 2014)

  Clandestine (Marc and Kit—coming Spring 2015)

  Refine (Linwood and, yes, Jasmine—coming Summer 2015)

  Read a preview of Georgiana’s book, Divine

  Author's Note

  When writing a story where most of the action occurs in the past, I have incorporated some aspects of historical truth and then taken literary liberties. Allow me to sort through some of it for you.

  Let’s start with historical facts. Tuberculosis was (and quite frankly, still is) a terrible disease. By some estimates, TB caused up to 25% of all deaths in the early 19th century. Though deadly, the disease was not a fast killer. It can sit latent in the body for decades before becoming active. Once active, victims succumbed over a period of months and sometimes years. But once the disease set in, death was generally inevitable. Only a small fraction managed to fight off the infection. Dr. James Carson, who I mention in passing, was an early researcher working in Liverpool in the early 19th century. Though many treatments were posited and tried over the centuries, it wasn’t until the advent of antibiotics in the 1940s that TB stopped being such a widespread killer.

  On a happier topic, gooseberry clubs and competitions were an actual craze in early 19th century Britain. Sir Henry’s obsession was rooted in very real historical fact. (You can’t make this stuff up, people.) Curry was widely eaten and The Jane Austen Cookbook (by Maggie Black and Deirdre Le Faye) contains a recipe for curry from Austen’s own household. Speaking of Jane Austen, I must apologize for pushing the publication date of Pride and Prejudice earlier to accommodate my plot. The book wasn’t actually published until January 1813.

  Other interesting historical facts. The little story about Baron Berwick marrying a popular London courtesan is absolutely true. Thomas Hill, Baron Berwick, did marry Sophia Dubochet on February 8th, 1812 (though I may have taken liberties when explaining why he did). And Napoleon did indeed begin his ill-advised invasion of Russia in late June 1812.

  Emme’s traveling disasters are actually also reality. All of Emme’s 21st century disasters have happened to my parents. They were held up by pirates on the Cozumel ferry, stranded in Hungary when the Icelandic volcano erupted, stuck without luggage in Guatemala during terrible floods, quarantined when the swine flu hit Mexico, interrogated by the TSA for being terrorists, and so many others that I didn’t list. They are the original traveling disasters.

  Things I completely made up: the town of Marfield, all the estates listed in the book and Giovanni Spunto. My apologies if you went looking for them. I also recognize that Emme’s amnesia and recovery is a stretch of medical possibility. I prefer to think of it as something that fate decreed for her.

  As with all books, this one couldn’t have been written without help and support from those around me.

  For starters, I would like to thank all of my fellow photography friends and fans. Over the years, you have given me friendship, support and a much needed artistic outlet. I still love everything about photography—that exhilarating creation of breathtaking, show-stopping images. But thank you for giving me the confidence to branch out into a different artistic field, expressing many of the same dramatic concepts in writing.

  To my beta readers—Jefra Linn, Monica Winder, Lyndsie Campbell, Kelly Crawford, Kristin Villano, Solomon Campbell and Annette Evans—thank you for your helpful ideas and support. Thank you especially for sending me messages of encouragement when the doubt-demons hit. Also, an extra large thank you to Norma Melzer for her fantastic copy editing skills.

  I owe a huge shout-out to Lois Brown, author extraordinaire, for lending your valuable experience and expertise to the manuscript. Your editing wisdom and overall brilliance was greatly appreciated.

  Most importantly, I need to give a wet, sloppy kiss to Erin Rodabough. Without you, my dearest friend, this book would have never happened—best. writing. buddy. ever! Thank you for your encouragement, brilliant insights, clever editing and just all-around awesomeness. As I have said over and over, a book is only as good as its editor is insightful. And you, my friend, have that amazing ability to hone in and provide solutions to all sorts of writing problems. Not to mention that you are just all-around fun to hang with. Thirty years later and we’re still trading manuscripts. Love that what began as two little girls writing stories in your gabled bedroom has morphed into this.

  Thank you to Andrew, Austenne and Kian for your patience and lending your mother to this project. Though you didn’t mind eating all that take-out pizza and cold cereal for dinner as much as you should.

  And finally, no words can express my love and appreciation for Dave. I would say you are the wind beneath my wings (but then, let’s face it, I would have to listen to you make wind-whistling sounds every time I walked by), so let me just say thank you for your support. For always looking me in the eye and saying ‘I know you can do it,’ no matter how hare-brained the idea. I consider myself beyond blessed to travel through life with you at my side.

  Reading Group Questions

  Oh yes, this book has reading group questions.

  Why?

  Well, the English professor in me couldn’t let this book go to press without making it vaguely educational. And obviously your reading group would show excellent taste by selecting this book—reading groups don’t always have to be about the classics and Oprah’s Book Club. Sometimes you just need a shameless don’t-judge-me read. And any book that has reading group questions has to have redeeming literary qualities, right? So you’re totally justified in assigning it.

  You’re welcome.

  1. "You are eternal in both directions. If you look far enough into the past, you'll find the future there." This is my paraphrase of a quote by Paul Tillich that I used as a philosophical basis for the book. Thoughts? Have you ever felt this way about your own life?

  2. As a writer, I feel that the look of words on the page can communicate meaning as well. Therefore, I deliberately used line breaks, non-traditional punctuation and visual cues to help convey tone and cadence. Did you find this helped as a reader, making your reading flow more easily? Why or why not?

  3. When writing historical fiction, as a writer you face a conundrum. Do you stay completely true to the language of the period, knowing that it will feel stilted and perhaps boring to many readers? Or do you relax the language and allow it to be more modern, therefore making it more engaging to present-day readers (but not entirely historically accurate)? How well do you feel this book deals with the differences between modern and early 19th-century English?

  4. Co
nsidering Albert Einstein’s Theory of Relativity (yes, I really just went there), one could argue that time is merely a construct of our limited understanding of the universe. Based on this, did you like the visual metaphor of all events being present, occurring simultaneously on a vast cosmic ocean? Could all things be present?

  5. Alright, let’s cast the movie of the book. (Cause hey, we can dream big, right?) Who plays Emme? James? Etc. In the movie version, what aspects of the book should be thrown out, condensed or altered? Also, what should the theme love song be?

  6. Are we having fun yet?

  7. What came first, the locket’s creation or Emme finding the locket? How do you feel about these ‘chicken or the egg’ situations that often occur in time travel novels?

  8. As an author, I do have plans (as of this writing) to redeem Linwood in the last book of this series. Can this be done? Could he actually change enough to become the hero in his own novel and get the girl? Is he truly a bad person or just a product of his environment? Please feel free to email any good ideas you come up with!

  9. I chose to self-publish this book and never considered seeking a publisher for it (long story why . . . you can email me for that explanation too). How do you feel about the indie self-pub book market? Are you more or less likely to read a book that has been self-published? Do you even notice/care if a book is self-published?

  Turn the page for a preview of

  Divine

  House of Oak Book 2

  Georgiana's story and the next book in the House of Oak series.

  Divine

  House of Oak Book 2

  The ballroom

  Stratton Hall

  Warwickshire

  March 10, 1808

  Sebastian Carew was a man without a heart.

  Not that he didn't have one in the conventional sense. There was definitely an organ in his chest that beat a steady rhythm, and friends regularly described him as good-humored and courteous.