Begun by Time

by Morgan O'Neill

  Returning from work, she opened the front door and stooped to retrieve mail the postman had dropped through the letter slot. She sifted through everything and was thrilled to see something from Jonnie among the envelopes. They wrote back and forth several times a week, and he’d given her carte blanche on plans for their wedding, so this was probably in reference to some of her ideas.

  She unsealed the envelope just as her mother came in, bursting with excitement.

  “Darling, I’ve secured St. Mary’s Parish, Leyton, for Sunday, 31 December, as you wished,” her mother said. “The secretary is pleased you chose the Brandons’ parish church, and suggested we check back this weekend to make an appointment to speak with the vicar.”

  Catherine hugged her. “Thank you so much for taking care of that. It should be beautiful with all the Twelfth Night decorations.”

  “Your Aunt Vivian wants to gift you some silk fabric she’s held onto since before the war. If you still insist on a dress suit instead of a gown, then it sounds as though she has enough material. She says it’s a lovely dove gray.”

  “Hmm…yes.” Catherine glanced up to see her mother smiling.

  “I see you’ve gotten a letter from Jonnie. I’ll leave you to it and pester you about a gown later.”

  Nodding, Catherine pulled the letter out of the envelope and read.

  Darling,

  I’ve twisted arms, begged, finagled, and I can report success! I’ve managed to get two days leave for the second weekend of July. Father will be away from London, so I thought perhaps you might come south? Your aunt is in Brighton, I believe, and I can catch a ride over from my location at Appledram. Will that work for you? I shall keep my fingers crossed.

  I must run, but send you my love.

  JB

  Delighted, Catherine clasped the note to her chest.

  Chapter Six

  Fatigued, Brandon ran a hand over his face and left the base hospital for some fresh air. Between patients, he needed a few minutes of exercise to get the blood flowing again. He stepped out and followed a path that wound behind the recovery and rehabilitation wings, toward an untended garden with woods beyond.

  It was warm in the sunshine, but the weather was still in transition from spring to summer and, as he passed into shade, a chill raised gooseflesh on his arms. He heard voices up ahead, a distant chorus of singing, but kept up his pace in hopes they would ignore his presence. He needed time alone.

  As he got closer to the woods, he could make out more of the lyrics. The tune was a folk song from ages past. His gaze strayed from the path toward the forest, which stood before him deep and dark, with huge, ancient trees. How had he missed this on his previous walks?

  And then he saw them. Two women and a man, all dressed in rough, old-fashioned clothing, picking mushrooms from the shady ground and singing as they labored.

  Their voices were strong, but hardly melodious.

  Heigh-ho, nobody home

  Meat, nor drink, nor money have I none.

  Still I will be merry.

  Rose, Rose, Rose red,

  Shall I ever see thee wed?

  I will marry at thy will, sire

  At thy will.

  Ding ding ding dong

  Wedding bells on an April morn

  Carve your name on a moss covered stone

  On a moss covered stone.

  Ding ding ding dong

  Funeral bells on a September morn

  Rose oh Rose is dead and gone, sire

  Dead and gone…

  The last words faded to wisps and lingered in the air like whispers. Rose…dead and gone, dead and gone.

  A sense of melancholy weighed on him, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he sucked in his breath and felt as though the ground had tilted beneath his feet. He was alone. Where were the singers? How could they have gotten away so quickly and quietly?

  Mouth open, he stared at the empty landscape a moment longer, then shivered with an icy dread. The big trees were gone. He looked down at the seasonal flowers, not a mushroom in sight. Not only had the forest changed and the people disappeared, but the actions of the threesome hadn’t been normal for spring. Mushroom picking? It made no sense at all.

  Brandon quickly left the shade and walked into the sunlight, the path taking him back toward his surgery. Regardless of the warmth of the sun on his skin, his chills went deeper, down to his very bones.

  First Hatfield House, now this. What the hell was happening to him?

  …

  The first streaks of dawn lit the morning sky, and Catherine’s heart beat a rapid rhythm as she finished packing. Their taxi would arrive in twenty minutes to take the family to Victoria Station, where they would catch an early train for Brighton. Catherine lugged her bag into the hallway, then returned to her room to put the final odds and ends into her train case.

  Less than ten hours before I see Jonnie, and this time we’ll have tonight and all day tomorrow together.

  She picked up the military portrait he’d given her and planted her lips on the glass cover. “Tonight, I shall give you a real kiss, my darling,” she promised. “I love you so much.”

  “Cathy!” her father bellowed.

  “Yes, Dad?”

  “I’m coming up for your baggage whether you’re ready or not.”

  Catherine grinned at her father’s false bluster and called back, “Everything is waiting for you at the top of the stairs.”

  She took one more look at the photograph of her handsome fiancé, hugged it, then placed it back on its shelf and hurried out the door.

  …

  Despite the strange incident in the woods near the base hospital, Brandon was determined to submerge his doubts and fears. So much was at stake. He would not let anything ruin his time with Catherine.

  Wearing his dress uniform, he arrived at the Victorian home of Catherine’s aunt at a quarter to six in the evening. When he knocked, the door immediately opened, and he was greeted by the beaming faces of Catherine and her parents.

  Catherine wore a new corduroy jacket and a fetching green hat which matched her eyes. Brandon made a mental note to compliment her about them when they were alone.

  “Do come in, my boy. Give me your kit.” George Hastings reached out and took his things. “You will be sleeping on the sofa in the library. If you need to freshen up, the washroom is next to the kitchen. Catherine’s bedroom is upstairs, tucked away safe next to ours.”

  A furious blush rose on Catherine’s face. “Hush, Dad. Jonnie would never presume—”

  “Of course he wouldn’t,” George said with a chuckle, “but he’s staying under the same roof, and I’d not be doing my duty as a father if I failed to put him on notice.”

  Brandon felt the flush of embarrassment as well. He cleared his throat. “Of course I’ll be on my very best behavior, sir, although you may be sure I’d never do anything to harm your daughter’s reputation. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

  Eager to change the subject, he reached inside his coat and withdrew a boxed corsage, which he presented to Catherine.

  It was rather simple, bearing a single white rosebud, but the tender look on Catherine’s face made him feel like he’d brought her a whole bouquet.

  “Thank you, Jonnie. It’s beautiful.”

  As her mother pinned it to the lapel of Catherine’s jacket, her aunt bustled into the foyer.

  “My, you’re a handsome fellow,” she said, smiling ear to ear. “Welcome to my home, Major Brandon. I’m Catherine’s Aunt Vivian.”

  “Enchanted. And thank you again for offering to let me stay with you.”

  “You are most welcome,” Vivian said.

  Brandon smiled. “I would be pleased if you all would accompany us this evening for supper.”

  His offer was met with indulgent smiles.

  “Thank you, but I’m certain you and Cathy will have a grand time on the town without us,” George said, and clapped him on the back. “I’ve given you enough tr
ouble for one night. My sister has cooked a splendid meal for three, and she’d have our hides if we ignored that fact.”

  Vivian playfully swatted him with a tea towel and everyone laughed.

  Catherine picked up her handbag, and they said their good-byes.

  They strolled together, enjoying the clean salt air wafting from the ocean. After the first turn in the road, Jonnie said, “I missed you, but I didn’t dare get too close with your father on high alert.”

  Catherine giggled. “He loves you, Jonnie, and knows you would never try anything. I think he’s just worried about losing his little girl.”

  “Who looks cracking, by the way. Your hat matches your eyes.”

  She touched the hat and grinned. “Yes, I love it. A gift from Aunt Vivi.”

  They arrived at King’s Road, overlooking the Brighton West Pier, and headed for the Colony Restaurant. Brandon asked to be seated outside, and they were soon installed and given menus. Although the weather was perfect, people were still very careful with their money, and there were few patrons inside, let alone on the veranda.

  Catherine studied the menu and then ordered the fish soup, followed by grilled Dover sole. Brandon also ordered the soup, along with a dozen oysters on the half shell and a serving of fried filet of haddock. He was famished.

  “Would you like wine, Catherine? They have it on the menu. It’s almost impossible to get it in London.”

  She leaned in and whispered, “Won’t it be frightfully expensive?”

  He grinned. “I don’t mind. I feel like celebrating.”

  She nodded. “Then, yes, please. I’d love it. Perhaps something sweet?”

  Her eyes twinkled as he asked the waiter to recommend a sweet white wine to accompany their meal. After the man made several suggestions, he settled on a 1929 Chateau d’Yquem. He guessed it was a fine wine, based on the waiter’s enthusiasm.

  Scanning the decor, Catherine said, “It has a crumbly sort of charm, hasn’t it?”

  “Originally, it was the home of a very rich woman, I’m told,” Brandon said, “but I suspect it was a bit more highly decorated at the time and filled up with Victorian luxuries. This looks rather Roaring Twenties, I think. Not the stuff of a rich heiress.”

  “I walked by this place many times as a child, but I’ve never eaten here before. I haven’t come down to Brighton much in the past year or so.” She sighed. “I still can’t believe the war is over, for Europe, anyway.”

  “It’ll be a long slog before we’re fully able to put it all behind us. Some of my patients are worried they’ll be shipped off to fight in the Pacific.”

  “How much longer will the war go on?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, darling, but sadly, I don’t believe it will be over anytime soon. But let’s speak of other things.”

  Catherine nodded, clearly glad for the change of subject. She told him more about the months she’d spent in Brighton during the early war years, when London was first bombed and children evacuated. Luckily, she didn’t have to stay with strangers, her aunt having a place for her.

  By the time she finished reminiscing, the slight breeze had stopped altogether, and they enjoyed the lingering summer warmth and evening sunshine while dining. The food was excellent, the wine superb, sweet and fruity and much to Catherine’s taste. For dessert, Brandon ordered treacle pudding with hot custard.

  Gradually, he realized Catherine had grown quiet. He took her hand. “Darling, what is it?”

  When she frowned, he felt a stab to his gut. Had she sensed something about his troubles?

  “What’s wrong, Catherine?”

  She shook her head, then nodded, as if torn. “Mummy wants… Would you mind terribly if I wore a silk suit to be married, instead of a traditional gown?”

  Taken by surprise, he smiled, relieved her concerns were so minor. “I don’t mind at all. Why are you worried about it?”

  “Mummy isn’t happy with my choice, but the expense seems such a waste.” She sighed. “Some girlfriends have been married in hand-down bridal gowns, but we don’t have anything like that saved in the family.”

  They paused while the waiter cleared the table. When he was gone, Brandon continued, “I’m fairly certain we don’t have anything you might use, either, but I could ask my father.”

  “No, no, thank you,” she replied. “I’d prefer the suit, actually, if you don’t mind.”

  He lifted her hand, turned it over, and kissed her open palm. “My darling, we shall be getting married. I hardly think your suit will be uppermost in my mind.”

  Catherine blushed deeply, then looked at him. Her gaze was steady, her eyes soft and full of promise. “I wish our wedding night was sooner.”

  Stunned by her admission and the look of desire in her eyes, it was all he could do to remain seated and properly dignified. He swallowed hard and motioned for the bill.

  Thankfully, Brandon had time to compose himself while he paid, although the little smile that kept playing across Catherine’s lovely lips remained a distraction. Soon, they were out on the boardwalk, strolling arm in arm and enjoying the lingering daylight as the sun slid toward the horizon.

  “Dearest?” he asked, and stopped to face her.

  She smiled up at him. “Yes?”

  “I’ve botched up something rather important, I’m afraid, and I’d like the opportunity to take another shot at it.”

  Catherine looked confused, but nodded. “I can’t imagine what that might be, but all right.”

  He fished in his pocket, then dropped to one knee and grinned at her.

  “Jonnie, you didn’t botch—”

  “Catherine,” he interrupted, “I must insist on doing this properly.”

  A crowd formed around them, awaiting the big moment. Catherine smiled and raised her eyebrows in anticipation. “Then, by all means, Major Brandon.”

  “Miss Catherine Hastings, I adore you. I love you with all my heart. Will you do me the very greatest of honors by agreeing to become my wife?”

  She was about to respond when he held out his hand and presented her with an antique engagement ring of rose gold and diamonds. Overcome with emotion, she covered her face, unable to staunch the sudden flow of tears.

  “Darling?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded.

  He gently drew her left hand down and slipped the ring on her finger. The crowd cheered, and Brandon stood and hugged her.

  “Do you like the ring?” he asked. “It belonged to my grandmother, but we can look for one all your own in a more modern style, if you’d prefer.”

  “I love it, and I love you, Jonnie. Such a precious family heirloom. Oh, I shall cherish this ring for everything it represents, for the rest of my life.”

  Just then, a photographer pushed his way to the front of the crowd, hailed them, and snapped their picture as they laughed and posed for the camera.

  Brandon gathered Catherine to him and held her close. The crowd, the noise, everything melted away as he kissed her, rich and full of promise, for the very first time.

  …

  Saturday passed in a blur of delightful discovery for Catherine. All five of them visited the Royal Pavilion in the morning, but her aunt peeled off and headed home by noon, pleading the need to get supper started. Her parents stayed a bit longer, then left them on their own.

  They shared a lunch of fish and chips, then spent some happy hours shopping and enjoying the view along Brighton Pier.

  The mood in the seaside town was cheerful and infectious. Hope and a brighter future dangled on the horizon and, for the first time in years, optimism filled the air.

  Catherine couldn’t keep her eyes off her beautiful ring. She wanted to know about Jonnie’s grandmother. “Tell me about her. Did you know her?”

  “Yes, her name was Marie Taylor. She met my Brandon grandfather in jail—”

  “Jail?” she interrupted, stunned.

  He grinned. “Grandfather was a young solicitor, and they were both involve
d in the early women’s suffragette movement. That particular day, she had been incarcerated for disturbing the peace, and he was her appointed counsel. Grandfather always said a thunderbolt called Marie struck him right there inside the jail, and he was never the same.”

  Catherine smiled. “That’s a wonderful story. I am so proud to wear this ring.”

  That evening they stayed in. She curled up beside Jonnie on a sofa in the lounge. They listened to the radio and made wedding plans while her father dozed, her aunt crocheted, and her mother read.

  “Do you know when your next leave will be?” she asked.

  “There’s no telling. We’re quite busy at the hospital, although that is tapering off a bit. Regardless, I’ll be out of here very early tomorrow. We’ll have to say our good-byes tonight.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re doing such important work, but I confess I get a trifle jealous of your patients from time to time. They get to see so much more of you than I do. I miss every moment we’re not together.”

  Jonnie chuckled and kissed the top of her head. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’ll be seeing quite a lot more of me than they’d ever hope to in a few months’ time.”

  Catherine’s hand flew to her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle a giggle. Her mother looked up from her book with a questioning eye, and her father chose that moment to let out a snort, which woke him and diverted her mother’s attention.

  “Lily, I think it’s time we were off to bed.” He looked pointedly at Jonnie.

  Catherine recognized the pronouncement as a strong suggestion she and Jonnie do the same, so he could see for himself they were well separated for the night.

  Jonnie got the hint, and they both stood. He thanked her aunt and said good-bye to everyone before leaving the room. In the hallway, just outside Jonnie’s temporary quarters, they stopped and he took her in his arms.

  He brushed a tendril of hair away from her forehead and kissed her brow. “I love you, Catherine. Sleep well. We’ll see each other soon, I promise.”