A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3)

by Irina Shapiro

  **

  “Good God, what happened to you?!” Mrs. Mallory’s face froze in shock as Jonah pushed Finn through the door, helping him to a chair. “John, come quick,” she called through the open door, summoning her husband.

  “Well, well.” Mr. Mallory shook his head in dismay as he eyed Finn. “Do you need a doctor, son?”

  “I’ll be all right,” Finn whispered, desperate to lie down. He thought he might faint. His head was spinning, and there was a hollow feeling in his belly that had nothing to do with hunger.

  “Your head wound needs to be cleaned and bandaged. Just hold tight for a little while longer. Hannah, get me some warm water and a rag. I’ll need a strip of linen to bandage his head.” Mr. Mallory carefully examined Finn’s ribs while waiting for the water. He’d obviously done this before.

  “Does it hurt when I press here?” he asked, putting pressure on Finn’s ribs.

  “Yes,” Finn grunted.

  “You don’t seem to have any broken bones, but your head has been battered severely. I think you might be concussed. Can you see all right?” Finn tried to nod, but more stars appeared out of nowhere, cascading from the ceiling.

  “Who did this, Finn?” Mr. Mallory asked him quietly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you do.” Finn closed his eyes. He just needed to sleep a little. He was nearly there when Mr. Mallory’s voice summoned him back to consciousness.

  “You need to lie down as soon as possible,” Mr. Mallory said as he began to clean the back of Finn’s head. The rag came away all bloody, turning the water a murky red within minutes. Finn closed his eyes, letting Mr. Mallory take care of him. He could barely manage to stay awake. His eyes were closing of their own accord, and his thoughts were all muddled and fragmented.

  “There. That should do it. Now, let me help you to bed. Mrs. Mallory will bring you something to eat. You must be hungry.”

  Finn was just about to answer when Abbie walked into the house, a basket of eggs under her arm. Her mouth opened in shock as she saw Finn sitting at the table, his head wrapped in a linen bandage, his face barely recognizable. She let out a pitiful moan as she shoved the basket into Sarah’s hands and went to Finn.

  “Who did this to you, Finn? Who?” Abbie was on her knees in front of him, looking up into his face, her eyes full of tears.

  “Abbie, Finn needs to be in bed. You can talk to him later. Now, go and turn down his bed, while I help him up the stairs,” her father said.

  Mr. Mallory helped him up and gently laid him on the bed. Finn was out before his head hit the pillow, his battered body no longer able to take the pain.

  Chapter 33

  The room was lost in darkness by the time Finn finally woke up. Snippets of conversation and sounds of utensils on crockery reached his ears, but otherwise all was quiet. Finn’s tongue felt like flannel in his dry mouth, and his head throbbed painfully. He was just about to try getting up when Abbie appeared carrying a single candle. The flickering light illuminated her worried face as she sat on the edge of the bed, holding a cup to Finn’s dry lips.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Couldn’t be better,” Finn answered, grateful for the water she gave him.

  “The doctor was here. Pa sent Jonah to fetch him after you passed out. You slept right through his visit. He reckons you’ll be all right. You’re concussed as Pa suspected, and your nose is broken. You must have a devil of a headache. Dr. Hillard just happened to mention that Matthew Granville has a broken jaw. Any idea how he came by that?” Abbie was watching him suspiciously, her eyes pools of chocolaty brown.

  “None whatsoever.” Finn closed his eyes in an effort to discourage Abbie from asking any more questions. He didn’t want to admit that it had been Matthew who beat him to a pulp, partly because of his injured pride and partly to spare Abbie the guilt. She would feel awful if she knew she’d been responsible for the attack, although it really wasn’t her fault at all.

  “Finn, it was Matthew, wasn’t it? And it was all because of me.” Abbie took his hand, caressing it gently. “I’m so sorry, Finn. I never meant for this to happen.” She looked like she was about to cry, her eyes full of anguish.

  “Abbie, it wasn’t your fault. I humiliated him, and he paid me back in full. Think nothing of it. Anyhow, I would take a hundred beatings just to walk you home.” He tried to smile, but it hurt.

  “That’s an awfully high price to pay just for the pleasure of my company. Was it worth it?” Funny, Granville had asked him the same thing. Yes, it had been worth it. She was worth it.

  “It’s not too high of a price if you throw a few kisses into the bargain. I could use one right now.” Finn closed his eyes as Abbie’s lips brushed his, her breath sweet and warm.

  “You’re a surprising person, Finlay Whitfield,” she whispered into his ear, kissing his temple.

  Oh, you have no idea, he thought, enjoying the feel of her skin against his cheek.

  Chapter 34

  Valerie ignored Alec’s pouting as she got ready to go to the printer’s shop. Alec was still in a lot of pain; his ribs terribly bruised and aching every time he took a deep breath. There wasn’t much she could do, short of putting cold compresses on the area, not that they helped much. Alec had barely slept during the night, unable to get comfortable since he preferred sleeping on his stomach.

  “I’ll be back soon. I promise. Are you sure you’re not hungry?” she asked again, glancing at the beer and bread she’d brought him for breakfast.

  “No, I don’t want to eat. I’ll be all right,” he said, looking anything but. “Please be careful.”

  “I will. Try to get some sleep.”

  Valerie gave him a kiss and left the room. She was eager to pick up the broadsheets and start putting them up. She’d wait for Alec to do most of them, but the least she could do was put a few up within walking distance of the inn. Who knew? Maybe someone had seen Finn. If the printer had really seen Finn, then it was quite possible that other people had seen him as well. Maybe he’d gone into other shops. It was important to ask people while their memory was still fresh.

  The printer had her order ready and waiting by the time Valerie walked through the door. “So you haven’t found him yet?” he asked conversationally. “He hasn’t been back since, that I can tell you for certain. Good luck with your search.”

  Valerie took her packet of broadsheets and stepped out into the afternoon sun. She’d gotten some glue to put up the sheets, but had left it in the room. She’d have to go back. Valerie looked up and down the street. She had to admit that she was a little nervous to be out by herself after what happened yesterday. She hoped someone had helped the man they left bleeding in the alley. She sighed with relief as she reached the inn. It was very quiet as she walked in, being about ten o’clock. The midday crowd would start trickling in closer to noon, ready for a drink and a meal. The publican was washing out tankards and setting them on the draining board in readiness as he hummed a merry tune.

  “Good day to you, Mrs. Whitfield. All by yourself this morning? You best wait for that husband of yours to escort you. Heard there was a stabbing yesterday only a few streets over. Terrible business.” He sighed dramatically as he continued to clean the tankards.

  “Do they know who did it?” Valerie asked carefully.

  “They reckon Percival got into a drunken brawl with someone. The man has a reputation for brawling, especially with anyone he suspects of being a Royalist. Finally got his comeuppance, I’d say. His crony Bobby Mann is keeping mum. I suspect they’re more interested in robbing their victims than upholding the cause of liberty.”

  “Is he badly injured?” Valerie asked casually.

  “He was stabbed in the thigh and lost some blood, but he will recover. The only thing truly injured is his pride. I hear he’s never lost a fight. I don’t envy the poor sod who stabbed him.”

  Valerie felt her stomach clench, terrified that Bobby Mann and his friend would seek retribution
against Alec. She decided it was wise to change the subject before the innkeeper deduced that the person who stabbed Percival was none other than her husband. She’d washed out Alec’s coat last night and threw the bloody water out the window, but someone might have noticed something when they came in through the taproom. If their attackers found out where they were staying, they would no doubt come after Alec.

  “Mr. Clements, I wonder if I might put up a broadsheet here in the taproom. So many people come here; I thought it would be a good place.”

  “Well, now. That depends on the type of broadsheet you want to put up. Anti-British sentiment runs deep in my inn, so as long as you’re not going against that, feel free,” he said, trying to get a better look at Valerie’s packet. She pulled one out, handing it to the publican.

  “It’s nothing political. It’s a likeness of my son. He’s been missing for nearly two weeks. I was hoping someone might have seen him,” she said quietly, hating to repeat once again that Finn was missing. Every time she said it, she felt as if she lost him all over again.

  “He’s a fine-looking boy, your son. Doesn’t favor you much, does he?” said the innkeeper, studying the sheet. “I hope you find him. You are welcome to put it up with the others,” he said, gesturing to the wall by the door, already plastered with a dozen broadsheets. Most of them were yellowed with age, the ink faded from the sun falling on that side of the wall, but some were still relatively fresh, calling for people of Williamsburg to join the Continental Army and fight for their liberty. Valerie was just about to go upstairs for her pot of glue when Mr. Clements called out to her. “Let me see that sheet again, Mrs. Whitfield.”

  He set a tankard on the counter and dried his hands on his apron before taking the sheet from Valerie. Mr. Clements studied the drawing closely, holding it up to the light from the window. “I wouldn’t want to mislead you, Mrs. Whitfield, but I’m almost certain he was in here yesterday.”

  Valerie grabbed on to the counter, feelings slightly faint. “Where did he go? Who was he with?” she asked, praying that the man would have some answers, but the innkeeper shook his head, a look of pity on his homely face. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Whitfield, but I don’t know. I have a clear view of the door, so I saw him walking in, but then he got lost in the crowd. It gets busy here at noontime. I couldn’t see where he went, but let me ask my Bessie. She was serving yesterday on account of my wife being unwell.”

  Mr. Clements disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with his oldest daughter. The girl was about fifteen, with wide dark eyes and an impish smile. Valerie thought that the customers probably liked Bessie very much. She took the broadsheet from the counter, looking at it intently.

  “I seen him. He was at the table in the back with two other gentlemen. One was dressed like a farmer, but the other was one was wearing a good suit, although he had a face on him like sour milk,” Bessie announced, handing the sheet back to Valerie.

  “Do you know their names?” Valerie asked hopefully. At least she was getting somewhere.

  “No, sorry. They’re not regulars. I’ve seen the sour-looking one before, but don’t know his name. Sorry I couldn’t be more help. He is a handsome boy, your son. I noticed his green eyes. So lovely they were, just like emeralds.” She sighed at the memory, oblivious to Valerie’s disappointment.

  “Thank you, Bessie. If you see him again, will you tell him that his parents are looking for him and that we are staying right upstairs?"

  "Oh, I surely will, ma’am. I’ll look out for him. You can be sure of that,” she dimpled at Valerie, clearly expecting a coin.

  “I don’t have anything to give you now, but there’ll be a reward if he is found,” improvised Valerie in order to encourage the girl.

  “Is there now?” Bessie asked, well pleased. “I hope to be the one to claim it. Well, I have to go help Ma in the kitchen.”

  “That’s something, isn’t it?” Mr. Clements asked, gazing at Valerie. “He’ll turn up, your boy. Don’t get discouraged. So many young lads are running off to join the Army or the Militia these days. It’s bound to be hard on the parents, but it’s all in a good cause, I say.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Clements. You’ve been most helpful. I’ll just go up and tell my husband that you and Bessie recognized him. He’ll be glad to hear the news.”

  Valerie wasn’t sure how she felt. On the one hand, she was thrilled that three people in two days had recognized Finn. On the other hand, they must have missed him by minutes both at the print shop and at the inn. What were the chances they would come this close again? What if he left town? If she could only find out where he was staying. Valerie sighed as she went upstairs to share her news with Alec. If only they had something more concrete. Who were these men that Bessie had seen Finn with? How did he come to be with them, and what was their connection to the Committee of Secret Correspondence?

  Chapter 35

  Finn looked up from his perch on the stile. The pale orb of the moon was still visible in the cloudless sky as the sun held court on the other side, bringing much-needed warmth to the chilly October morning. The woods visible from the farm were ablaze with color, the leaves ranging from a pale yellow to a blood-red crimson. Another week or two and winter would already be in the air, especially in the early mornings when he reluctantly crawled out of bed, ready to start his chores before breakfast.

  This was the first time Finn had been allowed out of bed since the beating four days ago. Mrs. Mallory let him out for some fresh air, but forbade him to do any work. Finn was thankful to finally be feeling better. He was still sporting some colorful bruises on his face, but his vision was normal once again and the terrible headache that plagued him for the first few days finally went away. His ribs were still sore, but not nearly as painful as before, allowing him to fill his lungs with fresh morning air, which smelled of wood smoke, hay, and the tang of manure from the barn.

  The Mallorys had been really kind. They all took turns visiting him up in the loft and bringing him food and treats. Even Martha, who hardly took any notice of him, came up and brought him a cup of cider and a piece of freshly baked tart. Annie offered Finn her dolly so he wouldn’t feel sad, and Sarah read him a story. The best visits were, of course, from Abbie. She didn’t ply him with food, but she did kiss him when no one was about, and that was the best treat of all.

  Finn had finally given her the bracelet, watching her face as she examined it carefully. She caressed the smooth beads with her fingers, marveling at the lovely blue color of the stones. Finn didn’t know what they were called, but he’d seen many of his Indian friends wearing them in their amulets and woven into their braids. Abbie put on the bracelet and held out her wrist, admiring the effect before tucking it underneath her sleeve and out of sight. She was pleased, and that made Finn very happy.

  Finn slid off the stile, deciding to take a short walk. His legs felt wobbly from days of lying in bed, and he just needed to move around a bit. He’d walk to the woods and back. He never did check his traps, but he wouldn’t be going into the woods -- not today. Finn looked up at the lovely, nearly transparent moon, trying to recapture the dream that woke him during the night. He couldn’t recall any of the details, but something was nagging at him. He resolved to remember that part of the dream during the night, but naturally forgot what it was by the time he woke up in the morning.

  Abbie called out to him as he passed the barn, her blond curls framing her flushed face as she carried a pail of milk back to the house. He made a move to come and help her, but she waved him away, telling him that he wasn’t allowed to do any lifting yet. Finn felt odd, being on the farm but not doing any work. He had to earn his keep or Mr. Mallory might decide to get rid of him. Of course, at the back of his mind, Finn knew that Mr. Mallory would do no such thing. The older man knew who attacked Finn and why.

  Finn reached the tree line and found a stump to sit on. He’d just take a little break before walking back. He hadn’t expected to feel so tired. Suddenly, the
fragment of the dream came back to him, as if his mind was finally ready to surrender that little piece of lost memory. He’d dreamed of the night he found the time-travel device in Amelia’s old bedroom. He’d come home and was sneaking past the dining room, trying to avoid detection as he made for the stairs. He hadn’t been paying much attention to the conversation inside, but his mind must have registered it anyhow, snippets replaying in his sleep. Aunt Louisa had just been saying something about knowing their guest from her days in England as Finn tiptoed past the door.

  Finn stopped to digest this interesting piece of information. All this time he’d been asking himself how he got transported to the future, but he’d never asked why. And there were so many questions he should have asked. Had the man come to see Aunt Louisa? Why did he have a time-travel device, and had he used it to come to the future, or from the future? Were his parents aware of the fact that such a device existed? Why did Aunt Louisa, whom his mother had never spoken of much, suddenly arrive in Virginia without any warning, and where had she been before boarding a ship at Plymouth? Why did his mother never speak of her family, or her life before Yealm Castle? Who else had used the time-travel device before him? Was it just their guest, or had there been someone else?

  Finn got up and began walking again, his mind abuzz with questions. He didn’t want to jump to erroneous conclusions, but since he’d found the device in their home, obviously he wasn’t the first person to travel through time. He cast his mind over the entire family. His father, Charles and Kit were so clearly men of their time that he dismissed them very quickly. He’d never noticed anything in their behavior that gave him pause, not that he had been looking for anything. His mother and Aunt Louisa, on the other hand, sometimes surprised him. They said things that seemed a bit odd, especially when they thought no one was listening, and their views on religion and the role of women was a radical one, although they kept it to themselves most of the time. He’d always thought that they were more outspoken than other women, although he didn’t live with other women, so had no idea how they behaved in their own home.