Evelyn couldn’t have explained how grateful she was that there was electricity out here. She huddled into the borrowed down parka for warmth, tugging at the dorky wool hunter’s cap she had chosen from a box full of dorky hats. A vicious wind whipped through her and she was sure her bones would break from the cold. Hoping his tall frame would block some of the wind, she tried to huddle as closely to Sam as she could, who walked as nonchalantly as though he were strolling on the beach.
They made a quick detour at the bottom of the path, where the courtyard opened onto a garden, and then continued further down into a vast stretch of overgrown lawns. Sam went into a little shed and rummaged around.
“There’s a lake down there,” Piper said morosely, pointing into the distance. “With ducks and swans.”
Evelyn took Piper by the hand and led her a few feet from the shed.
“Piper, what’s really going on? Are you all right?” She looked meaningfully at the shed. “Does he have some sort of—is he coercing you in some way?”
“Sam?” Piper blinked several times. “No, he’s trying to help. You’ll see.”
Sam emerged from the shed with a large lantern and two flashlights. He handed each of the girls a flashlight and then grimly continued down the path.
“Where are we going?” Evelyn asked.
Piper sighed. “The mausoleum,” she said. “The family crypt.”
As they made their way down the lawn, Piper tried to explain further.
When she had first arrived in Scotland, her great-grandmother’s estate was in turmoil. Fenella Glen Frasier Al-Abbhed had spent the last three years of her life living mostly in Saudi Arabia with her second husband, with only a few visits back home to Scotland. The manor’s caretaker was old and feeble and had died four months ago, having no relatives to leave the job to, and no friends at all since he was kind of a mean old man.
“A right crotchety old sod,” Sam put in helpfully. “He used to throw clods of manure at the kids who cut across the grounds to play in the woods. My wee cousin caught one in the face last year.”
Fenella probably meant to hire a new caretaker but then became ill enough to know the end was near for her, and she spent her last days tracking down her long lost great-granddaughter and setting it up so Piper would inherit everything.
While she lived in Saudi Arabia with her beloved husband, it never felt like home to her there, and she decided that in the end she wanted to spend eternity with her own ancestors on the land that had been in her family for hundreds of years, rather than in the parched desert of her husband’s people. Her ashes had finally arrived the week before, and after having a memorial service for her in the village for everyone there to pay their respects, Piper was to take her remains to the family crypt and put them in Fenella’s allotted space, along with something of hers that was meaningful.
“She wrote in the letter that I should choose between a gold signet ring and this necklace,” Piper dug into the necklines of her many layers of clothing and pulled out a large oval ruby set in burnished gold filigree, hanging on a heavy gold chain. Evelyn inspected it with her flashlight while trying not to blind Piper. It was gorgeous. “And then put whatever I didn’t want to keep down with her in the crypt. Oh, here we are.”
They stopped in front of a surprisingly nondescript and not creepy white limestone building with a water stained wooden door, barred and locked with a rusty old padlock that was nearly as big as Evelyn’s head. Piper pulled a skeleton key that was half the length of her arm out of her jacket sleeve and handed it to Sam, who began to work it creakily into the lock.
Once inside, he lit the battery powered lantern and set it on the floor. The small building was just an entryway leading down a flight of stone steps.
Of course we’re going underground, Evelyn thought. I’ll bet a week’s wages this place doesn’t have electricity either.
Sam held the lantern aloft, locating a box of matches, and began lighting the candles that were in the wall sconces as if in answer to her thoughts.
“You guys, this is a hilarious prank, okay? If I start laughing really hard and admit you got me, can we please just go back to the house?”
Evelyn took a few hopeful steps toward the mausoleum door. Piper put her face in her hands and made a muffled sound. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head at Evelyn and started down the stairs.
The walls and floor were made of stone. When Evelyn glanced fearfully above her, expecting to see foot thick cobwebs, bats, and possibly giant centipedes, she was surprised to find a smooth white limestone ceiling. As they walked, Sam lit candles. The wall sconces had polished metal backs so the light reflected, throwing shadows all over the place and making it just slightly less scary than a horror movie.
Piper stopped in front of a space that had a blank brass plaque marking it, below which was a ledge hollowed into the wall, that held Fenella’s signet ring and a piece of tightly rolled paper tied with a faded blue ribbon.
“That’s Fenella’s spot. It had her first married name, but I thought she’d want it changed to include her second one as well. That’s an old love letter from Najeer.” She pointed to the little scroll.
The next spot had Piper’s grandma’s name on the little plaque, but the hollowed out area was empty.
“It’s honorary,” Piper explained. “I guess Fenella kept track of her until she died, then had the plaque made. It’s so sad there isn’t any keepsake. I have a little coin purse of hers I could maybe put out here. I hardly remember her. She never said anything about her life here. My mom used to obsess about it.”
They continued further into the crypt, going down another short flight of stairs. The second room had more decorations, tall metal urns, stone carvings, alarmingly realistic marble statues. Piper paused in front of a bust of a scholarly looking man. The carving was so detailed, Evelyn felt she was looking at an actual living person, albeit extremely pale.
“I was related to this guy,” Piper said and laughed.
Evelyn saw that the dates of most of the graves in this room were from the mid to late eighteen hundreds. Piper patted the bust and continued deeper into the bowels of the crypt, continuing to try to explain.
After the memorial service for Fenella in the village, she’d decided to take her down here on her own and have a little private ceremony to try to somehow bond to the memory of her great-grandmother who she never knew anything about.
Fenella had written several letters to Piper before she died, trying to tell a bit about herself, trying to explain things Piper might need to know about the various properties she was about to inherit. In one letter she’d written down all her most treasured books and poems, hoping that Piper would read them someday if she hadn’t already. Never having been much of a reader, Piper felt guilty and bought every book on the list from Sam’s shop, and picked out some of the poems to read in front of Fenella’s final resting place. Then she placed the keepsakes and sat quietly for a while, trying to see if Fenella’s spirit would reach out to her. She didn’t, so Piper decided to explore.
“I spent hours down here. I read every inscription that was in English and not completely worn away, studied every bust and carving. Maybe it was wrong, but I tried on all the jewelry that got left down here.” Piper was starting to sound slightly hysterical as she explained, walking faster and gesticulating wildly. “I mean, I’m related to a lot of these people. I wanted to see if they would ...” She trailed off and shrugged.
They were at the entrance to another room. The inscriptions on most of the stones were faded. Evelyn was able to make out some of the dates in this room were in the sixteen and seventeen hundreds. Almost every tomb had a bust or intricately carved death mask in front of it. There were several deadly looking swords and a strange looking axe mounted on the wall above one tomb. A marble plinth displayed a bust of its occupant, below it were crossed gauntlets. Piper stopped in front of the bust and turned to Evelyn, her eyes gleaming with tears.
“I am not re
lated to this one,” she said, standing awkwardly, holding out her hand in front of the bust as if she were a game show hostess proudly displaying a prize.
Evelyn strode forward, leaning over to get a good look at the bust and gasped, backing up abruptly as if it was going to yell at her.
“Recognize him, then?” Sam asked, causing her to jump again, he’d been silent for so long.
She nodded slowly, feeling sick and unable to comprehend. It was the berserk Highlander from the secret passage. She leaned closer to the faded carving in the stone monument. Illegible dates, some writing she couldn’t read because it wasn’t in English and then a name. Lachlan Osgur Kentigern Ferguson.
Sam put his hand under her elbow in case she fainted.
“How is this possible?” she demanded, jerking her arm away and glaring at him.
She saw Piper standing forlornly by the bust, staring blankly into the candlelight, and became overcome with rage. She whirled on Sam and punched him hard in the shoulder. He was solidly built and covered in layers of thick wool and just closed his eyes in long-suffering silence for a moment, waiting to see why she was punching him.
“Is this some sort of joke on the American who inherited your dumb village’s precious castle? Are you trying to drive her crazy and get her to leave so she won’t turn this dump into a shopping center?”
She punched him again but this time he caught her fist and held it.
“Evelyn, this isn’t a Scooby Doo episode,” he said calmly.
She punched him with her left fist. He rolled his eyes.
“Stop, Evie, it’s not a joke. It’s not.” Piper grabbed her free hand and squeezed it. She started laughing and Evelyn stared at her. “Sorry,” she said, stopping abruptly. “It’s so awful, though.”
She pointed back at Lachlan Ferguson’s bust. “That guy is in my house. He time traveled to my house and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Chapter 7
Evelyn sat at Piper’s desk, staring blankly at all the books Piper was pushing in front of her. Sam made a pot of coffee, and while it smelled nice, she couldn’t make herself take a sip, afraid the bitter liquid would burn a hole into her already churning stomach. She’d kept repeating that she didn’t understand and Piper kept agreeing that none of them did, and that was why she was there.
Piper showed her pages and pages and pages of text that she’d highlighted from books such as ‘Physics of the Impossible’ and ‘Time Travel in Einstein’s Universe’. There were also books about alternate universes and multiple universes and other things that made Evelyn’s head feel like it was about to explode.
“You see?” Piper said, pointing to some more highlighted words that ran together in a black and neon pink blur. “According to this, to these distinguished scientists, it’s hypothetically possible.”
“But how?” Evelyn said, for what seemed the hundredth time.
“We don’t know,” Piper said. “As far as we know it never actually has happened, at least not in any documented instance. I mean, not documented in a way that anyone believes.”
“What do you mean, that anyone believes?”
Piper and Sam exchanged a look.
“Well, you know how you love reading those time travel romance novels?” Piper said.
Evelyn smothered a gasp and glanced at Sam, feeling her cheeks start to burn. How could Piper out her like that? Her passion for time travel novels was a well guarded secret. Instead of looking away in disgust, however, Sam was staring at her earnestly.
“Do you think that maybe any of the stories you’ve read could possibly have happened in real life, and that the author was telling an actual account, but was too scared no one would believe it?” he asked.
“Are you serious?” Evelyn felt as if she were struggling against a never ending tide. Her eyes were burning with tiredness, her chest tight from anxiety.
“We’re serious,” Piper yelled, then closed her eyes. “We’re really serious,” she said more quietly. “You saw him, upstairs. He just appeared there, in the tower room, that apparently used to be for holding prisoners.” Her voice was rising again, and Sam reached over and patted her arm.
“Wait, he was a prisoner? Is he dangerous?” Evelyn turned to Sam, thinking about the axe Lachlan had been holding. “You talked to him, but I didn’t understand what you were saying.”
“If he speaks English, he hasn’t yet. I was speaking Gaelic to him. I told him you were here to help him get back.”
“What? Why did you tell him that?”
Another look passed between Sam and Piper.
“We’re hoping it’s true.” He shrugged. “And yes, he was a prisoner, but that was common back then, for warring clans to take hostages and then ransom them back to their people. I don’t think he’s dangerous. Not to us, anyway.”
“Well, that’s comforting.”
“Evie, do you think any of the books you’ve read can help us figure out how he got here and how we might get him back?” Piper wrung her small, pale hands.
Evelyn was so tired she couldn’t think of her own middle name, let alone the countless time travel romances, adventures, and mysteries she’d ever read. Then there was all the nerdier science fiction stuff on top of that. Most of the books had well thought out and believable explanations for why one would end up in another time.
“I don’t think so,” she stammered. “That would be crazy.”
They stared at her and she put her head down on the desk in defeat. It seemed that no amount of denial, or repeatedly asking them if they were serious was going to change the current situation. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a wavery shaft of early morning sunlight trying to peek through the curtains of the library window. She’d been up all night.
“I’m tired,” she said.
Piper pushed up her sleeve and squinted at her watch. Sighing, she pulled Sam out of the room and spoke quietly to him for a minute before returning to the room. Evelyn had almost dozed off while they were gone.
“Come on, Evie. You should get some sleep. We’ve had a few days to get used to this. I forgot how shocking it really is. You can help us figure this out later.”
Evelyn wanted to beg Piper to please tell her how she was supposed to help. Had she really flown her out here because she liked silly, impossibly unrealistic novels? As Evelyn climbed onto the mountain of a bed and sank into the down pillows, Piper stood at the bedside looking hopeful.
She’s nuts if she thinks I’m going to be able to come up with anything, Evelyn thought, but took pity on her friend.
“Give me six hours, okay?” She was already drifting off. Piper was just a wavy mirage, nodding and moving her mouth, patting her on the head, and then mercifully leaving the room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Evelyn woke to the delicious aroma of bacon and toast, then felt a distinct lowering of the thick fluffy mattress she had slept on so deeply.
Not at home, she thought with some trepidation. Not my bed. Her eyes flew open and she sat straight up, almost knocking Piper to the floor. She’d crawled onto the bed bearing a huge silver tray containing two covered silver serving dishes, a blue and white china teapot, two dainty eggshell porcelain teacups and a basket of what had to be scones.
“Morning,” Piper said, smiling with forced cheer. “Or afternoon, I guess.”
“Crap, Piper, why’d you let me sleep so long?” Evelyn said grumpily, looking at the elaborate round ormolu clock on the bedside table, which showed that it was a little after one.
Piper shrugged and lifted the lids off the serving dishes, revealing about a pound of perfectly fried bacon and two gorgeous omelets. There was a little bowl of whipped butter and another bowl of strawberry jam, a curl of lemon peel placed delicately on top of the mound of jam. Piper took a piece of bacon, while Evelyn smeared a scone liberally with butter and jam, cramming half of it into her mouth. She didn’t think she’d ever been so hungry in her life.
“What happened to you?” Evelyn asked, m
otioning to the lavish spread.
Piper looked slightly embarrassed. “There’s a housekeeper. She cooks, too.”
“Nice.”
They ate in companionable silence, until the weird sense of anxiety crept completely over her again and Evelyn could no longer ignore it.
She swallowed the last bite of bacon and took a sip of tea, then sighed. “I didn’t dream any of that, did I?”
Piper shook her head. “Sorry, no.”
Evelyn scooted off the bed and threw open her suitcase, realizing how inane her clothing choices were. She held up her sparkly mini for Piper to laugh at, which she did.
“Hey, what’s the deal with Sam?”
“Sam? He’s from the village. He knows a lot about this place. He’s been helping me catalog everything so I can open it to tourists.”
“Was that his idea?” Evelyn was immediately suspicious.
“No, Evie. God. People used to tour the grounds back when Fenella lived here full time, but I thought it would be nice to fix up the ground floor and let people tour that, too. It would really help the village, which is super cute by the way. Sam’s shop is great.”
“Uh huh. He’s super cute too, no?”
Piper looked shocked at this statement and had to actually think about it. “I guess so, yeah. If you like that type.”
“If you mean the dictionary definition of hot guy, then yeah, that type.” Evelyn pulled out a pair of jeans and sat down next to her suitcase to look at Piper to see if she was telling the truth.
“He’s really nice, but - kind of nerdy.” Piper pulled a guilty face. “You know I like a bad boy.”
“Nerdy? You’re crazy.”
“You like him,” Piper said with a look of delight. She rubbed her hands together like an evil scientist with plans for world domination. “That’s brilliant. He’s perfect for you.”
“You can stop that train of thought, right now,” Evelyn said, then held up her jeans in defeat. “This is all I brought that might hold up to this god awful weather.”
Piper shook her head and pointed to the wardrobe.
Lost Highlander Page 5