by Sandra Heath
“It’s stuck fast, and needs a man’s strength.”
“You have Stephen.”
“I don’t. He’s been injured, didn’t you know? I—I thought you’d have heard about the roof fall in the canal tunnel.”
Miles flicked his horse’s mane with a gloved hand. “Yes, but I didn’t know he was involved.”
“He’s been bedridden since.”
“Poor fellow,” Miles murmured insincerely.
“But he will get better.”
“Oh, good, I’m so glad,” was the acid response.
Laura hid her loathing. “Well, he’s too weak and unwell to leave his bed, which means he can’t open the safe, but you can.”
“Go to Deveril House? Are you mad?” he replied incredulously.
“You don’t understand. Soon Stephen and I will be the only ones there this afternoon. Everyone else, including Sir Blair and Miss Deveril, will be at the fair.”
He didn’t reply, for more villagers passed by. Laura found her glance moving unwillingly toward the bushes from where she knew Estelle had come when the painting came to life. For a moment there seemed to be the flutter of a black veil, but then it had gone. She’d imagined it.
“What is it?” Miles demanded, seeing the start she gave.
“I—I thought I saw someone over there by those bushes. A woman in black. Your wife,” she added, remembering the unpleasant confrontation she’d witnessed when the watercolor came to life.
The villagers were still passing as his eyes flew in the direction she looked, but there was nothing to see, and after a moment he turned back to her. “You imagined it, madam, because I promise you my wife will not approach you again; indeed, she is at this moment on her way back to Scotland.” He waited until the villagers were out of earshot, then spoke again. “Are you sure we’ll be alone at Deveril House this afternoon?”
He was taking the bait! “Yes. The servants have been at the fair since it started at dawn, and the Deverils will leave at about three. I am supposed to go with them, but will plead a headache at the last moment and stay behind to show you the safe. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to wait until Stephen has recovered?”
“I want the necklace as quickly as possible.”
“Then today is the best opportunity. “
He thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Very well, I’ll come to the house. What time do you suggest?”
“Everyone will definitely have gone by four.”
He leaned across suddenly to clamp steely fingers over her wrist. “You’d better be genuine in this, my dear, because if you aren’t...” He allowed his voice to trail away warningly.
Somehow she managed to meet his eyes. “Why would I lie to you? I wish to get away from this place, so believe me I’m telling the truth. Sir Blair still shows no interest in me, and all I want now is to go home to my family. I—I trust that when you have your necklace, you’ll honor your word? I know I haven’t succeeded with Sir Blair, but it isn’t because I haven’t tried, truly it isn’t.” Again her glance flew toward the bushes. It wasn’t her imagination after all, for although she couldn’t see anything, she could feel Estelle’s presence.
“I always honor my word,” he replied softly, releasing her wrist to suddenly put his fingers to her cheek. “You’re so like Celina, so very like her...”
“But I’m not her,” she reminded him a little uneasily.
“True. Nevertheless, you’d make a satisfactory substitute.”
She stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“That once I have the necklace, I’m of a mind to enjoy you a little before letting you go to your family.”
It was all she could do not to show her revulsion.
He took his hand away, “I see no point in prolonging this present meeting. I’ll come to the house at four.”
He urged his horse away, and she exhaled with slow relief. As he disappeared, her gaze returned to the bushes, and on impulse she rode toward them. There was no one there, but she saw a fragment of black gauze caught on a freshly broken twig. She glanced quickly around again, but the undergrowth was so dense Estelle could have been within a few feet of her and yet remain hidden. One thing was certain, Miles was wrong to think his wife was on her way back to Scotland! Shivering a little, she rode quickly away along the track.
She returned by way of the canal. The Bargee’s Arms was quiet, and there wasn’t anyone to be seen on the vessels moored along the canal. The breeze rippled the surface of the water as she followed the towpath, but as she entered the trees near the culvert, the air became perceptibly cooler, and there were fewer leafy shadows across the path.
Suddenly she saw the spruce fir, tall and startling by the cottage ruins. The spruce fir? But it shouldn’t be here yet, it hadn’t been planted! Nor should the rowing boat be lying rotting by the wall, or the cottage itself be ruined! Disbelief stabbed through her. She was in the future again!
The air seemed to spin sickeningly around her, and a frightened sob leapt to her lips as she began to fall from the saddle into an impenetrable darkness. She thought she heard Gulliver’s voice, but then pain swept nauseatingly over her, and she lost consciousness.
Chapter Twenty-one
Laura felt as if she were floating in a warm sea. It was a pleasant feeling, and her thoughts were muddled. Was she in the past, or the future? She was afraid to open her eyes, because she didn’t want to see her hotel room.
She heard the chink of a cup and saucer, a sound as familiar in 1818 as in modern times. Whose cup was it? She had to know. She looked, and could have wept with disappointment when she saw Jenny’s mother by her bed.
Mrs. Fitzgerald gave a relieved smile, and put her cup down. “At last! How are you feeling, my dear?”
“What—what happened?”
“Don’t you remember? Gulliver found you down by the tunnel.”
Laura remembered hearing Gulliver’s voice before she lost consciousness. But what was he doing on the towpath? Had he decided to go to the portal again?
Jenny’s mother continued. “He saw you walk along the path and then slip. You shook yourself up quite badly, so he made you sit quietly while he went back to the Bargee’s Arms for help. Ron Sawyer brought you back here in his car and we sent for the doctor, who wanted you to go to the hospital to be on the safe side, but you got yourself in such a state about it that he decided not to upset you even more. He said that as you hadn’t knocked your head or broken anything, he wouldn’t insist, so he just gave you something to make you sleep, and said he’d pop back this evening.”
“I’m sorry to cause such a fuss.”
“Oh, don’t apologize, my dear.” Mrs. Fitzgerald got up to tidy the bedclothes. “It’s strange how things happen. Gulliver only occasionally feels strong enough to use his walking sticks, and today he felt a sudden urge to leave his wheelchair and walk to the portal again. He’s so worried about you, he followed Ron’s car here in his wheelchair, and has refused to go home until he’s absolutely certain you’re all right.”
“He’s here now?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see him please?”
“Of course. I’ll get him now.” Mrs. Fitzgerald went to the door, then paused to smile back. “Jenny’s going to have two invalids to take care of when she gets here, isn’t she?”
“Two?”
“Well, you’re one as well for the time being.”
Laura returned the smile, but knew quite suddenly that by the time Jenny and Alun returned from Dijon, she’d be in the past forever! Her heartbeats quickened. How did she know? It was like gaining second sight, or looking into a crystal ball. Outwardly there’d still be a Laura Reynolds here in the future, but her twin would be permanently in the England of the past. Facing what, though? A life of happiness with Blair? Or a barren existence mourning his death? She wished she could be as certain of that as she was of being about to leave this modern world forever.
Mrs. Fitzgerald hurried away, and after what seemed an age Gulliv
er hobbled in on his walking sticks. He made his way clumsily to the bedside chair, and sank down thankfully, propping his sticks. Then he smiled at her. “How are you now, my dear?”
“Frustrated. I’m in the wrong century.”
“I know.”
She held his eyes. “Gulliver, when I go back next, I’ll never return here again,” she said quietly.
He was silent for a moment, and then said, “You seem very sure.”
“I am. Don’t ask me how because I can’t say, but there’s no doubt in my mind. I know it as certainly as I know night will follow day.”
He nodded. “I believe you.”
She looked at him. “Why did you go to the portal again today?” she asked then.
“Because I wondered if anything would happen.”
“If you went back again, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“So you’ve changed your mind, and want to go back again?”
He took a long breath. “I don’t know what I want, Laura. Since my accident I’ve been doing my damnedest to forget it, but you’ve made that impossible. Since we last spoke, I’ve done nothing but examine my feelings toward it all.”
“I guess you’re mad at me for dragging it all up again?”
“Not really.” He smiled.
“I’m glad. Gulliver, I’ve been thinking too. We know going back has something to do with sharing names with ancestors, but it’s like we suddenly became two people at once. Twins if you will, except our consciousness only remains with one.”
He smiled. “We fly in the face of reason,” he murmured.
“Just think, Gulliver, if you went back again now, you’d be able to walk again, and you’d be with Dolly.”
“Yes, but not the Dolly who’s here in the future, just an ancestor,” he reminded her.
“Whoever she is, in your previous life you loved her, and won her from Ha’penny Jack Sawyer.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Maybe you could come with me when I go back,” she said suddenly.
“Maybe, maybe not. We know one person can go, but as to whether two could...” He shrugged.
“Well, you want to, don’t you? You must have already decided that much or you wouldn’t have tried to get to the tunnel,” she said shrewdly.
“I admit it, but the truth has to be faced. What happened twenty years ago may be all I’ll ever experience.”
“Or it may not. I kept thinking I’d had my allotted number of adventures, but it always happened again. Now I know I’m going back for good.” She smiled. “It’s written somewhere on tablets of stone.”
“Thou shall return forever to Regency England?”
“Something like that.” She glanced toward the window, and for the first time realized the January afternoon had drawn in. Just how long had she been lying in this darned bed? What had been happening back in 1818 while she slept? She sat up quickly. “What time is it, Gulliver?”
“Twenty to four. Why?”
“Four is when Sir Miles Lowestoft is to come to the house! I need to be back there now!”
“My dear—”
“It’s important I return, I—” Her voice died away as a strange feeling crept slowly over her. Something was about to happen. Instinctively she turned to look at the bedroom wall, and a glad smile leapt to her lips, for the ballroom doors were there.
“Look, Gulliver!” she breathed.
He went a little pale.
She turned shining eyes toward him. “You can see them, so surely that means you can go through them? We can go together, I know we can!” She eased herself from the bed and stood very carefully, because she was still shaken from the fall, then she held her hand out to him. “Come with me, Gulliver, please”
He hesitated. “Laura, what if Blair Deveril is the man I saw dead? What’s there for you then?”
“Five minutes with him is worth a lifetime on my own.”
“You say that with such fervor, but when those five minutes are over…”
“That’s a chance I’m prepared to take.” Still she held out her hand. “Are you coming?”
Suddenly he reached for his walking sticks and rose unsteadily to his feet. “Take my arm, my dear, and let’s go before I turn chicken and start to cluck,” he muttered.
Together they approached the entrance to the past, and the doors swung open on the sunlit ballroom, but as they stepped through, Gulliver disappeared. She turned in confusion, for she’d expected him to stay with her, but then she remembered. Harcourt and all the servants were at the fair. She wasn’t alone, though, for Marianna and Stephen were with her, Stephen still looking pale, but much better than he had. They were all three waiting at the ballroom doors for Blair, and as she heard his familiar step across the landing, the clock in the hall below began to strike a quarter to four.
Blair wore a dark gray coat and cream breeches, and the diamond pin in his neckcloth glittered as he reached them. Laura pressed her hands nervously into the folds of her apricot floral gown, praying that all was going to end well, and that this new life would be one with him safe at her side. Tears stung her eyes, for until Blair Deveril she’d never realized how deep and fierce love could be.
His eyes were only for her, and he said nothing to the others as he took her hands. “If you wish to back out of this, you only have to say,” he said gently.
“I don’t want to back out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He turned to the others. “Are we all quite clear upon the plan?”
Stephen nodded. He looked tired but determined, his pallor disguised a little by the rich clover color of his coat. Marianna clung to his arm, her yellow lawn gown too cheerful for such a moment.
Blair saw how tense she was, and looked at Stephen. “Take her to her rooms, and make sure she stays there. Lowestoft mustn’t realize there’s anyone else in the house other than Laura and your supposedly bedridden self.”
Stephen began to obey, but then paused. “Just remember, I’ll be within hearing.” He patted his pocket, where one of Blair’s dueling pistols was primed and ready. Blair had the other.
When they’d gone, Blair took Laura in his arms and kissed her luxuriously on the lips. It was a slow kiss, gentle, loving, and complete. No words were needed. The house was very quiet. Outside, she could hear the cries of the peacocks and the barking of the spaniels in the kitchen garden, but here, in Blair’s arms, there was only the beating of their hearts.
After a long moment, he rested his cheek against her hair. “When you’ve brought Lowestoft to the library, just remember to stand well away from him; I don’t want you within his reach. If he poses any threat to you, no matter how small, I’ll stay my hand. But I’ll be in the room waiting, you may be sure of that.” He held her even closer. “I don’t like involving you any more than you already are, but I know him, he’ll be too much on his guard to be surprised before the library. Only when his attention is on the safe will he be fully exposed.”
“I’ll do everything you ask.”
“Just take care, my darling.”
She closed her eyes. And you, my love, and you…
He glanced around. “I’m so glad I’ve sold this house, and that soon the past will be behind us forever,” he said softly.
She kept her head bowed to hide the anguish that suddenly choked her.
They both heard a horse coming down the drive, and her heart missed a beat. Blair turned. “That must be Lowestoft!”
“I—I’m ready.”
Their eyes met, but before he could say anything more she turned to a nearby console table to pick up the reticule, which contained the fake necklace, because they knew there was a mark on the real one that Miles was bound to look for. They were taking a calculated risk that they would be able to prevent Miles from escaping with it.
Blair watched as she crossed toward the main hall. Suddenly he wanted to call her back. A sixth sense told him something was wrong. “Laur
a!” The name echoed after her, but she didn’t turn.
The horse had halted outside, so Blair went quickly to the library, where the fire had burned so low it was almost out. A few embers glowed in the draft from the open window, and the smell of paint and varnish was still strong, but didn’t overpower the lingering headiness of damp plaster.
Suddenly there was a soft step behind him. He whirled about, and his face changed. “You! What in God’s name—
He was silenced by a savage blow with a candlestick, and he knew a moment’s sickening pain before he pitched forward into unconsciousness.
The candlestick was tossed aside as his assailant quickly dragged a chair forward, concealed him with the dust sheet draped over it, then slipped silently out again.
Chapter Twenty-two
Laura led Miles up the staircase, and paused at the top. “You see? The house is completely deserted. Stephen’s in his bed on the next floor, and there’s absolutely no one else here.”
The black unicorn ring was very plain as Miles’ hand rested on the polished rail. “I’d be a fool to take your word.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“No, my dear, I don’t doubt you’d trick me if you could.”
“There is no trick.”
“You’d better mean it,” he replied coolly, taking out a pistol and leveling it at her. “This is just to make sure you know I mean business, my dear,” he said, but then thought he heard something. “What was that?”
“I—I didn’t hear anything.”
“If there’s someone else here…” His fingers dug in cruelly, and he pressed the pistol to her temple.
“I swear there isn’t!” she cried. “Just Stephen, and he can’t leave his room.”
To her relief he slowly lowered the gun, but he remained as taut as a bowstring. “Very well, let’s get on with it in case someone does choose to return. You have the paste necklace with you?”
“In my reticule,” she replied truthfully.
He continued to grip her arm as they crossed the landing to the library. There he hesitated in the doorway, glancing suspiciously at the ghostly dust sheets and clutter of decorators’ trappings. Celina’s portrait was in shadow, and he didn’t notice it as he pushed Laura over the threshold into the room.