I spied a ladder on the side. This wasn’t going to be too difficult.
Henley had already taken the clock out from the bag. I kissed him on the cheek and took it from him, before climbing under the caution tape and making my way toward the ladder.
“I’m sorry. This is a restricted area—” I heard as I descended into the pit.
“Miss!” The voice was coming closer.
As soon as my feet hit the bare dirt below, I started turning the clock.
Regency period. So 1815 would do, right?
I’d never get used to time traveling. The actual act was simple enough; a turn of the clock’s hands was all it took. But the world around me dissolving and a new world taking its place—now that I could never get used to.
I watched the colors of the objects around me soften. The sky was a blue sheet that ran into the white clouds like watercolor. The dirt of the ground seemed to melt off, softening as it turned into carpet beneath my feet. A different world came into view as new objects hardened in place.
Something sharp hit my chest, and I put my hands out to steady myself. A crash broke me out of the strange feeling of peace.
There were no words as I looked about at the many shards that encircled my bare feet.
“What in tarnation—”
At the sound of the foreign voice I looked down at my nakedness. Of course. My clothes hadn’t been invented yet. Quick. My eyes darted to a standing screen in the corner of the room. Four leaping steps across the carpet and I was behind it, bringing the clock with me.
“What’s going on?”
I peeked from the side of the screen. I had only meant to steal a glance—to see what I was up against—but instead my eyes locked onto two gray eyes staring back at me.
“Rebecca?”
At first I thought I had heard wrong. There was no way this stranger could know my name. He didn’t know where I came from. He didn’t know me.
“Rebecca Hatfield? Is that you?”
I took in the sight of the man in front of me.
He couldn’t have been that much older than me. Freshly shaved, curly hair combed back, neatly trimmed sideburns, and what looked like a type of necktie wrapped and secured at the base of his neck. I didn’t have to be near him to know that he smelled like a bouquet of meticulously picked flowers.
“Rebecca, come out here this instant,” he said. He stood tall in his long black jacket.
I looked down at my bare body behind the screen. “Um . . .” Something in the authoritativeness of his voice made me want to obey—it actually felt safe to obey—but my present situation made me unable.
The man also heard my hesitation and was reminded of my current situation.
“Uh, yes . . . I’ll, uh, send for Mrs. Becker. She’ll know what to do.” He actually had the decency to look embarrassed. Or at least that’s how I figured he was feeling as he took a sudden interest in his shoes.
He abruptly left without any indication of when or if he would be back.
Who was he? And how did he know my name?
I didn’t have much time to dwell on these questions before there was a knock on the door.
“Um . . . yes? Come in?” I said, placing the clock by my feet.
A woman in a brown pinstriped dress swept in. She brought with her a tower of boxes clutched to her chest. The woman sidestepped the broken shards of what I assume was a vase. She didn’t even glance down.
Bobbing a quick curtsey, she set the box down. “Ethel will see to your dressing today. I am afraid Lucy is not with us anymore.”
“Dead?” I automatically asked, as a young woman with wheat-blond hair scuttled in. I didn’t know what made me say it.
The older woman in the brown dress tried to look away as the corner of her mouth lifted.
“No. She simply sought new employment elsewhere,” the woman said, looking amused. “I’m afraid much has changed since your last visit, Miss Hatfield.”
My skin rose in little bumps being addressed that way. I must have traveled to a time and place where a former Miss Hatfield once was . . . But which Miss Hatfield? I had assumed all of them had been in the United States.
“Ethel, why don’t we dress Miss Hatfield in the deep-blue dress that was her favorite?” Mrs. Becker took the lid off of the box on top. Turning toward me she said, “I’m afraid the dress will be a bit wrinkled. It’s the best we could do without notice. We didn’t know you would be arriving . . . so soon.”
She looked to me, and I realized she was waiting for a response.
“Of course,” I said. “The blue dress will do.”
Ethel and Mrs. Becker continued to unpack white undergarments and the yards of blue fabric and ribbon that made up the dress. I tried to look around the room for the chest, but there was only so much I could see from my position behind the screen.
Ethel came behind the screen and started dressing me as Mrs. Becker edged toward the door.
Mrs. Becker paused. “Will that be all?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Very well. I shall leave you to your room.”
My room?
I was so preoccupied with what she might have meant by that that I had barely heard her when she had said, “I believe Mr. Percy will be in his study when you are ready.”
She slipped out, only barely glancing at the broken vase on the floor on her way out.
Blending into a time period was a lot like a child’s game of dress up. At times it felt juvenile, but I guess it was a testament to how little things changed in different times. Whatever the year was people didn’t really change. Sure, the fashions changed and people might speak a bit differently. But that was really it. People’s relationships with each other stayed the same. Their desires stayed the same. And for the most part, even their values stayed the same.
When I was finally wearing enough layers of undergarments to satisfy Ethel, she asked me in a quiet voice if I would like her to do my hair. I gave her a nod, and she led me to a vanity on the other side. She began poking and prodding at my hair as soon as I took a seat.
“Something simple will do,” I said, biting my lip. This wasn’t what I was here to do.
“Of course, Miss Hatfield.”
Ten minutes later, with my hair off the nape of my neck, Ethel led me back behind the screen to finish dressing me.
She lifted the top layer of the dress over me, and the blue fell around me. Ethel’s deft fingers buttoned my dress quickly and then flew down to rearrange my skirts. I looked down and the blue of the dress piled around me made me look like I was drowning at sea.
“Thank you, Ethel,” I said, giving her a nod to dismiss her.
Ethel crept out, barely turning her back to me.
When she had left and closed the doors behind her, I was finally left alone to take in the room.
It was a surprisingly big space. Yes, there weren’t too many objects or pieces of furniture, but that was to be expected of this time period.
There was a bed in the middle of the room. The covers were a blue that matched my dress. There were two wooden bedside tables, a dressing table with a mirror, and a chest with drawers on the far wall. I noticed there were no windows, but the high ceiling kept it from feeling stuffy.
A chest. Where would a wooden chest be?
I didn’t quite know how big it was. I didn’t have much to go by. It didn’t look too big in the photo.
I scanned the tops of the bedside tables. Nothing. They didn’t even have drawers that the chest could be in.
I pulled out the drawer of the bedside table on the left side. Empty.
Going over to the other side, I held my breath, expecting this drawer to be empty too.
I pulled the handle and the first thing my eyes saw was a Bible.
I picked it up, thinking I’d flip through it, but as soon as I lifted it, I saw there was something underneath. The chest.
It was wedged into the drawer so there was no space, but it was unmistakable. The same type
of wood. The same engravings.
I pried it out using my fingernails as leverage. The box opened so easily.
There was a rosary in the box, but I pushed it aside. It was of no interest to me. I came here for the letter. I grasped the paper at the bottom of the box.
Querida Emilia . . .
This was it.
Gripping it tight, I pocketed the letter.
This was all I had come here to do . . . and yet, there were still so many unanswered questions. Which Miss Hatfield’s life was this? Why was Juana’s letter here?
I walked out of the room, deciding one more conversation with Mr. Percy wouldn’t hurt. If anyone could answer these questions, it would likely be him.
Mrs. Becker had said that he’d be in his study, but where would that be? I didn’t even know if I was upstairs or downstairs currently. Wait . . . were there even multiple floors? No matter. I decided I would check the rooms nearby first.
The door next to my room was locked, so I moved on to the next door in the hallway. The doorknob turned easily, but upon peeking my head in, I saw love seats and a card table. A sitting room of some sort?
I moved down the hall door by door. Some rooms were locked. Others looked like dusty closet spaces or other bedrooms. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t find the study on this floor, when I neared a room with an open door.
“Yes. Yes. Certainly.”
I could hear voices—or rather, one voice—from the open door as I neared it.
“Of course I know that she’s a threat to herself . . . Yes, I know that it’s important to get her back,” Mr. Percy said.
I refrained from walking into the room because I wanted to hear more of the conversation. Who was he talking with? What was this about?
His voice got low. “I-I just don’t want it to go as it did last time. I know we had to force her to go, but watching it . . . it all but broke me.” There was a long pause. I couldn’t hear the other person, but I supposed there was a response. “Of course I know that. But she was going to be Mrs. Benjamin Percy. I was in love with her. I still am . . . I can’t help it. You forget that I almost married Rebecca.”
I faltered hearing my name . . . or rather one of the Miss Hatfields’. But what I heard next almost made me sick.
“She sounds as if she’s in one of her more reasonable moods today, so come tomorrow. Yes, she only broke one thing today. No tantrums yet, so far. Come tomorrow, then you can take her back to the asylum.”
He said it so casually that I almost missed it. The asylum. As in a mental institution. But in this time, I knew it was more of a prison than a hospital.
But he said he loved her—me. Then why was he doing such a thing?
And then it hit me. I knew which Rebecca Hatfield this was. The fiancé, the asylum . . . it all made sense.
I remembered the information that my Miss Hatfield—the sixth Miss Hatfield—had given me. It was the fourth Miss Hatfield who entered into an asylum because she asked her fiancé to accept her for what she’d become. She had told him everything and asked if he could still find it within himself to love her. Needless to say, he thought she carried bad blood and he helped them lock her away. It’s not clear exactly how she died, but I remembered my Miss Hatfield had told me the fourth had died in the asylum. She said it was probably the torture they put her through that ultimately did her in.
I shivered.
That’s why there was no former Miss Hatfield here. Or maybe the killer had something to do with this too? When a Miss Hatfield dies, she gets erased from time completely.
I had the letter now. I needed to go back.
Taking care not to make any noise, I walked quickly back down the hall into the room I had come from.
The clock was still where I had placed it on the floor behind the screen. Checking once more that the letter was in my pocket, I turned the hands of the clock.
When I looked up, all I saw was sky. There was no ceiling. To either side of me was dirt and mud.
I spotted the ladder to my left and started climbing before anyone who was part of the dig could stop me.
“Rebecca!” Henley ran over to me and helped me under the yellow tape. “Is everything all right? Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” I quickly patted my pocket to make sure the letter was still there. “I got it.”
I felt ridiculous in an ancient dress while Henley was in a T-shirt.
“Let’s start walking back.” Henley looked around as he put his arm around me. “What happened?”
I was about to tell him about Mr. Percy and how I had slipped into a former Miss Hatfield’s life, but that wasn’t what came out of my mouth.
“What would make you stop loving me?”
“Where did that come from?” Henley looked at me closely. “Did something happen?”
I shook my head. “Answer the question.”
“I don’t know . . . ,” he said slowly. “I don’t think anything you could do would make me unlove you. I don’t know if you can really even ‘unlove’ someone . . . You sure something didn’t happen?”
His arm felt warm around my shoulder like a cloak.
I didn’t want to worry him. I decided to drop the subject, and it was silent all the way back to our room.
“I don’t like this,” Henley said, pacing the room.
“I think that’s all you ever say nowadays,” I said.
Henley continued to walk back and forth. “Well, I don’t like feeling helpless.”
“And pacing is all you ever do.”
Henley stopped and faced me. “What else is there to do other than worry that we’ll be killed today?”
“We can do some research on this auction house you found.”
“Research? How?”
“The internet, silly. It’s an amazing contraption. Besides, we need to translate the letter I got. The internet can also translate.”
During my time with Miss Hatfield in the twenty-first century, I had gotten quite fond of computers and the wealth of information available on the internet.
“We just need to find a computer. We can ask Aaron at the front desk,” I offered.
Henley slowly nodded. He looked resigned.
“Now let’s get out of yesterday’s clothes,” I said. It was like leading a child by the hand.
Henley remained seated. “You should change, but these were the only clothes I bought.”
“Okay.” I pulled out the now rumpled black dress from the backpack.
As I began to change, I made a mental note to also ask Aaron to see the lost and found box, if they had one. There were bound to be articles of clothing left behind at a hostel like this, and maybe something would be Henley’s size.
“Ready,” I said.
Henley looked over. The way he sat hunched over, the gray in his face, the troubled look in his eyes—he looked tired.
I held out my hand, but he stood without taking it.
Henley grabbed the backpack with the clock in it, and I made sure I had the key to the room tucked away in the one flimsy pocket of my dress.
When I opened the door, there were two muffins on a paper plate set right outside for us.
Picking up the plate, I handed a muffin to Henley.
“At least breakfast was free,” I said, taking a bite out of mine.
“Blueberry,” Henley said with his mouth full. “My favorite.”
“I never knew that.”
“There are still things for you to learn about me,” he said as we rounded the corner.
Henley opened the white door at the end of the hallway for me.
“Good morning,” Aaron called from behind his desk as we walked into the tiny lobby. “I trust you slept well?”
“We did,” I was quick to say. I glanced at Henley’s haggard face and I wondered if I looked the same. I hadn’t had time to take a peek at myself in the bathroom mirror before we left. “Some jet lag, though.”
“I can imagine. Where are you both fro
m?”
“New York,” I said.
“The city?”
“Right in the middle of things.”
“I’ve always wanted to visit. But my partner’s actually more one for the country. Me, I’ve always been a city person.”
I tried to look interested.
“Anyway, can I help you with anything? Oh, let me give you two a map! We try to give all our guests these complimentary maps so you don’t have to buy something marked up in a tourist trap.” Aaron dug behind his desk.
A man in green horn-rimmed glasses walked out of the white door we had come from and passed us on his way toward the main door.
Aaron looked up from behind the desk just enough to call out, “Have a nice day, Eddie!”
Eddie waved as he exited the hostel.
I thought back to the scene I had woken up to. “Do you get many guests this time of year?” I asked.
“The weather’s finally nice, so yes, but it’s not quite the tourist season, so the rush of people hasn’t yet started. Even when we’re busy, though, this hostel’s small enough that I still remember everyone’s names. That, and I’m good at remembering names and faces.”
Henley perked up. “So you remember the faces of everyone who comes in here?”
“Proud to say I don’t forget a single one.”
I tried to think of a casual, nonchalant way of asking if anyone had come in last night, but Henley beat me to it.
“Did anyone come in last night?” he asked.
Well, that was blunt. Even for him.
“Last night, eh? No one after you two, except for Alanna and Peter a bit later. I was surprised no one went drinking last night. When I went to the pub, it was pretty empty . . . Why? Were you waiting for anyone?”
“We just found these delicious muffins outside our door and were wondering who put them there,” I said. “I noticed none of the other rooms had muffins waiting for them.”
That was reasonably smooth.
Aaron smiled. “That’s because Alanna and Peter took them to you. And I’m glad you enjoyed them. I bake them fresh every morning and put them out here at the front desk for people to take on their way out. They assumed the muffins would be all gone by the time you two got up, so they decided to leave them there for you. Wasn’t that nice of them?”
The Day Before Forever Page 7