Shades of the Past

by Sandra Heath

  “And so was your reluctance to answer my questions,” she replied candidly.

  He raised an eyebrow. “The direct approach?”

  “I see no point in beating about the bush. I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

  “Well, if you imagine I have some dark reason for withholding information, you’re wrong. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but the reason I’m reluctant to talk about Deveril House and the tunnel is that researching them led to my being mainly confined to a wheelchair for these past twenty years.”

  She was startled. “What happened?”

  Dolly returned with a tray of coffee, which she placed on a free corner of a table by Laura. “I’ll let you pour, my dear; Gulliver’s liable to spill it.” She looked at him. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No, that’s all, Dolly. Thank you.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Good-bye for now. Good-bye, Miss Reynolds.”

  Laura smiled at her. “Good-bye, Mrs. Frampton, I—I mean Mrs. Renwick, it was nice meeting you.”

  The woman smiled and then bustled out. A moment later the front door closed behind her, and as the sound echoed along the passage, Gulliver sighed. “There she goes, back to that miserable old codger of a husband.”

  Laura put her keys down and began to pour the coffee. “I’ll take it you don’t care for Mr. Renwick?”

  “He’s a mean-hearted, selfish, bad-tempered, dim-witted old curmudgeon,” Gulliver replied. “Still, I suppose it’s not my place to criticize; I gave up that right twenty years ago...”

  “By not proposing first?” she ventured shrewdly as she gave him a cup of coffee.

  “Something of the sort.” He pressed his lips together, then smiled a little ruefully. “The tunnel must bear the blame for that too, I fear.”

  “The tunnel? I don’t understand.”

  “Well, as I said just now, researching Deveril House and the tunnel was why I ended up in a wheelchair. I couldn’t ask Dolly to spend the rest of her life with an invalid. I wouldn’t change my mind, so she married Jim Renwick instead.”

  “What happened to you? Was there an accident?”

  “Yes. I was interested to see some shoring up ordered by Sir James Deveril back at the turn of the nineteenth century, so I rowed in to look and went smack into a roof fall. The boat capsized and I damaged my spine. I’ve been like this ever since.”

  She didn’t know whether to mention the 1818 accident after that, but decided she would. “Mr. Harcourt, was anyone hurt in the roof collapse of 1818?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  Well, that was something, she thought, then found herself asking him a very pointed question indeed. “Why were you so startled when you learned my name?”

  He laughed. “Startled? I don’t know what you mean, my dear.”

  “Come on, I think you know as well as I do that there was a Laura Reynolds at Deveril House in 1818; that’s why you were so rattled when you heard who I was.”

  “I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted.

  “Oh, yes, you do. I think you also know there was a Harcourt who was Sir Blair Deveril’s butler, a Dolly Frampton who was a widow in the village, and a traveling showman called Ha’penny Jack, Ron Sawyer’s ancestor, who was the butler’s rival for Dolly’s favors.”

  “My dear, there have been Harcourts, Framptons, and Sawyers hereabouts for centuries.” His tone was light, but his eyes were guarded.

  “Mr. Harcourt, why won’t you come clean? It’s driving me crazy that I can’t discuss all this with anyone, and here you are, knowing all about it, but refusing to talk.”

  “Please don’t presume to tell me what I do and don’t know, Miss Reynolds,” he replied quietly.

  “I’m sorry, but if you’d just be straight with me—”

  “There’s nothing to be straight about,” he interrupted.

  She put her coffee aside in frustration. “There is, I know there is! There’s something strange going on around here, and I’m certain you know all about it. What about Ron Sawyer’s great-grandfather, the canal watchman? He said he’d been back to Deveril House as it was? I know, and I think you do too, that he traveled back in time. I’ve been doing the same thing, going back to 1818 and becoming the other Laura Reynolds!”

  Gulliver’s cup slipped from his fingers, and shattered on the floor. She bent to retrieve the pieces, but he shook his head. “Leave it.”

  “But—”

  “Leave it. Miss Reynolds, and then please leave this house.”

  She straightened with a few pieces of china in her hands. ‘Tm sorry if I’ve upset you, but I think you know what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ve traveled in time too.”

  A nerve flickered at his temple. “Close the door on your way out,” he said quietly.

  “At least tell me where you saw the floor plan of the old house.”

  “There isn’t one.”

  “But you told the hotel receptionist—”

  “I asked you to leave, Miss Reynolds. Be so good as to do so.”

  She stared helplessly at him. “Please, Mr. Harcourt.”

  “Good-bye, Miss Reynolds.”

  She put the broken crockery on the tray, picked up the car keys, and left the cottage.

  But as she emerged from the porch, the scene on the village green brought her to a startled standstill. The Mercury Fair was setting up beneath sycamores that were suddenly in full leaf. There were people, wagons, booths, and animals everywhere, and the noise was tremendous, from hammering and shouting, to music and dogs barking. She saw acrobats, tightrope walkers, minstrels, puppeteers, a prizefighting ring, and a fortune-teller’s booth. Men were assembling a wooden roundabout with leather horses and little carriages, and gypsies led strings of ponies to a far corner of the green, where horse sales would be held.

  Laura realized the car keys had become reins in her hands. She was in her riding habit, and her horse was drinking from a water trough by the door of Lion Cottage. Excitement sharpened through her. Would she see Blair in a moment?

  But as she turned, the person she saw was Ha’penny Jack. The showman was peering angrily into one of the windows of Lion Cottage. It was the parlor window, and there, on a settle enjoying tea and smiles, were Harcourt the butler and Dolly Frampton. At least, she presumed it was Dolly, for the woman bore a distinct family resemblance to Dolly Renwick.

  Hooves approached, and on hearing the familiar barking of the spaniels she turned gladly. Blair was riding toward her, but her gladness on seeing him again was tinged with guilt, for if he should discover why she’d ridden to the village like this, he’d be very angry indeed. And rightly so.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The reason Laura felt so guilty was the note in her pocket. It was from Marianna to Stephen, now staying at the King’s Head, and was to be given to the Cirencester stagecoach that would shortly pass through the village. Blair’s cranberry coat was bright in the sunshine As he rode toward her, and she fervently wished she hadn’t become embroiled in this latest scrape. Arranged matches and unwilling brides might be anathema to the Laura of the future, but Regency Laura was much more accustomed and susceptible to such things.

  The atmosphere at Deveril House had been tense since Stephen had been thrown out, especially as Marianna refused to give any promise of obedience when the Handworths arrived in a few days’ time. Laura knew how difficult Blair’s position was, but she couldn’t help feeling for the illicit lovers, and so had been persuaded by Marianna’s tears to carry the letter.

  Blair reined in beside her. Sartorially he was as stylish and perfect as ever, but the shadows in his eyes told her of the strain he found in the situation with Marianna. He smiled at her. “You came to see the fair?”

  “Yes,” she lied, almost wishing he hadn’t smiled. She didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t simply that she was on Marianna’s errand; her whole existence here in the past was based on deceit and treachery. It was Blair she looked at, bu
t right now it was Miles Lowestoft’s cunningly loathsome face she saw...

  Blair dismounted. “We need to talk, Laura,” he said softly, his voice almost lost in the noise of the fair.

  Warm color touched her cheeks. “Yes, I know.”

  “You made your confession, but Marianna interrupted before I could finish mine.” He held her gaze. “When we made love in the library, I knew you weren’t Celina. The cognac made little difference, except perhaps to brush aside my inhibitions. Sober I wouldn’t have behaved as I did, but in my cups I gave in to the desire I’d felt for you since the night of the ball.”

  She lowered her eyes. “For me? Or for Celina?”

  “For you, Laura.” He took her hand and raised the palm gently to his lips. “I don’t look at you and see my late wife, nor do I see someone who is merely in my employ, I see the woman who has made me live again. Before you I hadn’t made love in two years, but you aroused me from that numb existence. You’ve changed me, and it doesn’t matter that we hardly know each other, only how we feel.”

  For a quivering moment she thought he would kiss her right there in the green in front of the entire village, but instead he said, “Shall we ride together?”

  “If you wish.”

  He lifted her onto the side saddle, then remounted and turned his horse toward Barge Lane. “We have time to ride in the valley before the weather changes,” he said, nodding toward the horizon, where storm clouds were beginning to loom.

  With the spaniels loping before them, they left the noise of the fair and rode down into the valley. If they’d looked back they’d have seen Estelle’s carriage drive slowly around from behind a cottage across the green, and halt at the top of the steep lane. Estelle quivered with loathing as she watched Laura. The redheaded harlot would soon pay for her sins!

  Laura and Blair rode on. The hedgerows cast cool shadows, and the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves made a pleasant sound. Honeysuckle and wild roses filled the air with fragrance, and skylarks tumbled joyously in the blue sky overhead. It was perfect and no words were needed as they made their way toward the Bargee’s Arms, past the valley track where Laura had met Miles, and turned across the front of the inn to follow the towpath toward the tunnel. At the culvert they followed the stream along the valley below Deveril House. There was something magical about the sound of the horses, the warmth of the sunshine, and, above all, about the undercurrents of emotion passing between the two riders. Laura felt as if this time, place and man, were her destiny.

  The gate appeared ahead, and as they reached the pool with its fringe of elderberry bushes, Blair reined in and dismounted. “This is one of my favorite places,” he said, tying both horses to a branch, then reaching up to help her alight.

  The scent of elderberry blossom was seductive, and the heavy cream flowers swayed as the soft breeze quickened slightly, presaging the approaching change in the weather. The spaniels lay down in the shade as Blair led her into the bushes, where no one could see. She reached up to unpin her hat, and her hair came loose from its pins and fell heavily over her shoulders. Blair looked away suddenly, and she knew he was thinking of Celina.

  Her heart lurched. “It is my likeness to Celina that makes me of interest to you, isn’t it?” she observed brokenly.

  “Shall I tell you the truth about Celina? She was sweet and submissive, and I adored her, but she wasn’t an angel and could even be unkind. If she wanted something really badly, nothing would stand in her way. She wanted me, and broke many rules to have me.”

  Laura was taken aback, for somehow she couldn’t imagine the mostly flawless Celina doing anything she shouldn’t.

  He removed his gloves and broke off some elder flowers, separating them between his fingers. “It wasn’t until after the marriage that I found out what she did in order to wear my ring, and by then it was too late. I didn’t completely regret marrying her, but I couldn’t approve of her actions. The shine of love was dimmed.”

  Laura was filled with curiosity. What on earth could Celina have done? Clearly it had shocked him, if not enough to fully destroy his love.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to explain further just yet, so he smiled. “All I want to say is that although you look like Celina, that’s as far as the resemblance goes. You, Laura, are honest, charming and sweet company. She often lacked charm and consideration, didn’t have your passion, and would never have instigated lovemaking. As to surrendering on a library desk... !” He smiled a little more, and shook his head.

  “Maybe she would have done, if the situation had arisen.”

  “Never. I accepted her as she was, a creature without fire, whereas you…you, Laura, are a vibrant flame.” Fragments of blossom clung to his fingers as he touched her face.

  There was seduction in his voice, and she closed her eyes. “Have we come here to make love?” she whispered.

  “It’s what I want to do more than anything in the world.”

  “It’s what I want too,” she breathed, feeling weak as his hand moved sensuously in her warm hair.

  He pulled her close, and their lips came together in a kiss that sent currents of molten gold through their veins. Her body ached with desire, and she had no thought of resisting. She succumbed to the erotic spell he cast over her. This man was everything, and as he began to unbutton her clothes, she was beckoned on by the promise of sexual delights beyond her dreams.

  It was cool as they lay naked on the grass, but their kisses threatened to scorch their flesh. His lips were tantalizing as he took one of her nipples into his mouth, sliding his tongue over it until myriad dizzying sensations of pleasure danced through her entire body. Her hands roamed over him, stroking, caressing, and exploring. She felt the broadness of his back, the slenderness of his waist, and the compactness of his firm buttocks. Her fingertips crept into the forest of hair at his groin, and enclosed the length of his erection. She closed her eyes as he pressed into her hand, and as she stroked him she was rewarded by his groan of pleasure. His mouth urgently sought hers in another kiss.

  Her eyes remained closed, but the sunlight dazzled her. She was vaguely aware of the grass, of the sweet scent of elder flowers, and of the clear water flowing close by, but they were all on the edge of her senses, for Blair dominated her consciousness. Her heart beat just for him, her body ached for him, and her spirit yearned to be with him for eternity. As he moved on top of her to invade the inner sanctum of her soul, she knew she’d defy fate, heaven, hell, even the rider of the pale horse, in order to be with him.

  She cried out with joy as he sank deep into her, iron hard with arousal. His thrusts were slow at first, to expertly build pleasure. Every inch of him took her closer to complete ecstasy. Then his own need intensified, and as he became more swift and urgent, their hearts beat in unison. He paused at the final moment to prolong the exquisite gratification, but then release carried them away on wave after wave of delight.

  The pleasure died away slowly as they clung to each other on the grass. They were still joined, and her parted lips moved against his shoulder. His skin was warm and damp, and she breathed in the perfume of his body.

  He bent his head to kiss her lips lingeringly, and then rolled gently aside to lie on his back and gaze up at the sky. “If time were to stop now, I would not complain,” he murmured.

  Oh, yes, let this moment go on forever... But time might snatch her away at any second, and fling her into the future existence she no longer wanted. She sat up thoughtfully, pushing her tangled hair back from her face. Her pink-tipped breasts were pert in the slightly cool breeze from the stream as she plucked a blade of grass and twirled it slowly between her fingers.

  He got up suddenly, his body smooth and perfect in the sunlight before he dove into the water. There was barely a sound as he cut into the surface, and the ripple reflections glanced off his skin as he glided underwater for a moment before coming up again and turning to smile at her.

  She went to join him. The coldness of the water made her brea
th catch, and she felt weeds brushing against her as she lowered herself to the shoulders. He swam over to her, catching her close to kiss her, and as the water flowed exhilaratingly around them both, he cupped her breasts in his hands and teased her nipples. More kisses followed, and soon she felt his long shaft rising against her as urgently as it had so short a while before. Their passion was so fierce that one act of love had barely touched it, and as he pressed her to the bank they were both oblivious to everything but their need for each other.

  The water’s chill was almost caressing as he made her his again there in the pool. The gratification was as intense, and he knew so well how to give pleasure that she floated on a tide of sensuality. She thought briefly of Celina. Poor Celina, never to have shared this side of him. Never to have experienced the ecstasy Laura Reynolds knew now...

  They remained in an embrace afterward, until the sound of voices warned them someone was nearby. They broke apart in the water to see two gamekeepers walking along the far bank, with no idea anyone was in the pool. The spaniels stood interestedly, and Blair hissed at them. “Sit!” They lay down again, but remained alert as they watched the other bank. Laura was relieved the elders afforded the pool such seclusion, so that the gamekeepers walked on without knowing what they’d so nearly interrupted. When it was safe, and of one accord, she and Blair left the water to put their clothes on.

  The air was cooling all the while, and the clouds that had earlier been a threat on the horizon had spread to make the sunlight watery. They dressed quickly, and Laura was glad her hair was only wet at the tips. Without a comb it was difficult to manage the heavy curls, but she contrived to assemble a reasonable knot, and then pinned her hat on again. After that she sat on the grass, watching Blair as he tied his neckcloth. Thoughts of Marianna and Stephen suddenly entered her head. “Blair, may I presume a little?”

  “I suspect I will not like what you’re about to say.”

  “It concerns Marianna and Stephen.”

  “Laura, if you’re going to plead on their behalf—”