“The one that can’t remember anything, of course.”
“This mention of Waterloo again – what is it you know of Waterloo, Alexandra? Have you dreamt about it?”
“It’s just a saying, isn’t it? Come now, Jack met his Waterloo with Alfred the not-so-great, didn’t he? And you and your pistols saved me from mine.” Alexandra put her forefinger to her lips as she became aware she’d said something ‘out of time’.
Fascinating, thought Laura. I wonder what’s been happening. I must get hold of those diaries. She did. As Adam opened the door for Alexandra, Laura whipped in and rushed upstairs to her old room where Alexandra now kept her journal. She remembered she’d soon have the opportunity to read all of them with Matt. Matt? Yes Matt! Keep remembering the things of the future, the life she must live, the life she had come to love.
Laura tucked herself away with the new, leather bound diary, sitting on the floor by the side of the bed near the desk, just like she used to do when this room had been hers. There was one change though – Alexandra now had a proper desk, not just a writing slope on a dresser. And so she should, thought Laura. Perhaps there would be news of Catherine, for she was nowhere to be seen. She’d have to read fast, skip bits; she mustn’t waste this precious time; nor forget what she had come to do.
‘Wednesday, 31st May – (Laura could not help but add aloud ‘In the Year of Our Lord 1815’.)
I’m having to write this on Thursday. So much happened, I simply didn’t get a chance to make notes. Father Fox spilled the beans. And how!’
Laura was amused. Unlike some entries, Alexandra was writing as if she were still Xandra in the twenty-first century. Golly, if anyone had seen this diary then, coupled with her ability to ‘see’ into the future, they would have branded Xandra a witch. Laura’s blood ran cold. What did Matt think of her?
She hurriedly read on, and learned of many things she had never known. She knew Jack was a troublemaker, but this bad? His behaviour was worse than she could have imagined. She chuckled where Alexandra described her jitsu. She’d obviously forgotten the proper name and was calling it ‘slinging’. Fair enough description and certainly no worse than some things she herself had been saying in the twenty-first century. Poor Jack – made to marry the awful Charlotte Carpenter. What a plan!
‘Thursday, June 1st
Heaven. This is it. This is what I have waited for all my life. Raffles – I can now believe in your God and his plan for our lives. The man is just fantastic! I have completely misjudged him. How can I have been so unreasonable?’
Laura was even more amused now. A quick flick back several days and Alexandra had been calling Adam a ‘lying toad’. She read on.
‘When I made it back to “Foxhills” on jolly Holly, oh what a loyal and faithful horse, I dashed up here to my room and snuggled into bed. Couldn’t sleep, of course, and, would you believe it? Adam slipped into my room. Totally unheard. Gave me such a start! A highwayman – in my room! The highwayman! The one who wears my ring round his neck and thinks I don’t know. He sat on the side of my bed! Ok, ok, I’m going to stop using these exclamation marks soon – but probably not yet. Oh the butterflies! Rabbles of the fluttering things. How I blushed. He was still in his highwayman’s gear. Black boots even, though now I could see they had the usual brown cuff at the top. I was transfixed – my eyes following his. Then he said ‘You honour me with your eyes’ and winked! Those very same words; said in that voice! Personal, all but a whisper, so seductive. It has haunted me almost daily since the hold-up and I can’t believe I’ve been living and breathing the same air as him. I’d been thinking Adam seemed familiar, but couldn’t work out how I could have known him before. And it turns out he was the drunkard lolling on the floor in the tavern. He was listening to everything. And he could see me peeping through the window. Adam – the highwayman – I can’t decide which persona I like best. Then, leaning towards me on my bed, he said, in his captivating voice, that from now on he might call me ‘Axe’ (or perhaps that wouldn’t have an ‘e’ on the end), anyway, he then said he ‘had the right to steal a kiss’.
And here, of all places, thought Laura, she’d gone into that damned squiggly stuff. For a few tender moments, Laura remembered those kisses he had given her; sweet pain. She could not in her wildest dreams have imagined that Adam had been a highwayman. Well, he wasn’t a proper one, of course, they were awful people. Perhaps Mr Leigh-Fox was right after all, Adam was wild. And he was wearing the silver ring round his neck. He had not forgotten her, he’d taken the ring from Alexandra, and he wore it. How close she felt to him. She must stop reading now. She’d be able to read more when she got back to Matt and then it wouldn’t be such terrible torture. Thank God for Matt. Keep thinking of him.
She hurried along to Catherine’s room; the room was empty. She took out a pale pink, silk scarf from her pocket and placed it under Catherine’s pillow. How else could she show she cared? She allowed herself a smile as she reflected on the joy it would bring to Catherine; a little mystery would go a long way with her.
Searching for Adam and Alexandra, Laura pushed open the music room door; it creaked. As there was no response, she slipped inside to find the two of them close in conversation in the morning room. Alexandra was speaking but Adam glanced in Laura’s direction. He was undoubtedly the most handsome man she had ever known and she flinched when she saw the sparkle soften to concern, as if he felt haunted. She’d never come again. Besides, Matt might not mind the loss of a toe, but suppose she now lost a foot?
Standing by the window, Alexandra was saying, “Was it not Cicero who said, ‘Cannot people realize how large an income is thrift.’” Adam smiled; those smile lines were so sexy, just like Matt’s. That’s it, Laura, think in modern English. Don’t lose a foot. She shuddered.
“I believe it is time to give thrift some help.”
“Adam, I am writing another book. We shall not be totally destitute.”
“My dearest Ax, this estate requires several thousand pounds a year.” Adam looked at Alexandra tenderly as she tried to hide her consternation. “I have never discussed finances with a lady before. Forgive me. I blame myself alone but I offer in mitigation the fact that you are not only loved by me, you are also the most understanding friend a man could have.”
Laura drew closer. Her task was impossible while they were together but Adam was still a magnet.
Adam’s conversation changed pace. “Alexandra, I have urgent business in London. May I borrow Holly?”
“Of course, but why? Have you sold…?”
“It is something I must do alone. It is vital you stay here and are not seen to be with me.”
“Why?”
“Trust me. It is for the benefit of your good reputation.”
Good, thought Laura, sounds like he’s become aware of the repercussions Alexandra’s ‘future memories’ might have.
Adam’s groom tapped on the window. Things must be really bad for servants to start tapping on windows; surely there was someone who could liaise for William? He tapped again and with his hands, drew the shape of a box. Laura remembered; it meant the carriage was ready. She took a long look at Alexandra, once the diffident Xandra, now glowing, radiant, loving and loved. It had worked out well for her.
Laura followed Adam through the house to the steps leading down to the carriage. Johnson was loading a trunk onto the back and pondering how best to mount guard over it. Was that a gun under his coat? William was taking the reins at the front and Laura saw clearly, no question about it, there was a shotgun beside him. Catherine’s Black and Holly were to pull the carriage. She must not go near them for they would surely remember her and the apples and the carrots and the… well, she had undoubtedly spoiled them. Adam climbed in and Johnson folded the steps and shut the door carefully. Laura was beside herself with panic. She didn’t fancy riding alongside William or standing with Johnson at the back. A chance appeared when Adam leaned out of the window and called to Alexandra, “Pray for this
dilapidated bone shaker to get me to London safely. I will be back as soon as I can.”
Catherine ran out to wave farewell too. “Be careful, Adam. Do you have your sword? That highwayman has not yet been caught.”
Alexandra linked her arm with Catherine’s. “Your brother is a match for any such villain. Do not concern yourself, he’ll soon return.”
Laura had climbed in the other side but didn’t have time to close the door before Adam turned around. “By Jove, even the doors don’t hold; I should never have sold the good carriage. A new one is undoubtedly required.”
Adam and his carriages! Just like Matt and his cars. A locked case lay on the seat opposite Adam – reason enough to sit next to him. He was like Matt. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? Matt being a direct descendant. Laura watched him settle into the padded leather seat. He leant forwards and tugged the case on to his lap, unlocked it and took out a black hide folder. With great care he closed the case but Laura had seen more gold coin and bank notes than she knew she was ever likely to see again. He pushed the case back to the opposite seat and began studying the folder’s contents. There were documents from the bank – the word ‘mortgage’ caught her eye and, as he shuffled them, she saw ‘short-term loan’. He had raised every penny possible. Laura peered at the deeds he was studying. He turned to a sheaf of papers, with lists of shares and copious notes on ‘what if…’ scenarios.
“She’s always right but am I right to stake everything…?” Laura sat completely rigid. It was said in examination, not in doubt, she decided. A moment later, Adam confidently confirmed her thought. “No other option. To win, it is!”
The sun, now progressing through the western sky, shone through the open window. Adam squinted; Laura studied his glowing, chestnut hair and thought his profile as fine as any chiselled by Michelangelo. She looked at the back of his neck; his hair needed a trim, too busy? Lack of staff? He took off the white cravat and flung it across the seat opposite then undid the top button on his white shirt. The sun glinted on the silver chain around his neck. Perhaps he would fall asleep soon. He was wearing the black coat he wore the last time she’d seen him when they had both lived in the same century. In the bright sunlight she realized it was well past its use-by date. Well done, Laura, keep remembering the twenty-first century lingo, come what may, she must return there.
Laura eventually dozed a little until the cobbled stones of the London streets roused her. She had forgotten the stench of London in Regency times and she pinched her nose to stop a sneeze. They had arrived at The Tabard, the coaching inn near London Bridge, and it was nearing midnight on Thursday, fifteenth of June, 1815.
Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Supper at the inn the night before had been nothing more than a chunk of bread, cheese, fried celery and some cold meats. Imagine, thought Laura, having to exist on such limited fare. She had once known no better, now she could choose from so much; there wasn’t real poverty any more, not like the poor beggars she could see from the bedroom window. She wished she’d thought to bring them something.
Sleep had been difficult too. Adam, naturally, had taken the bed and, disappointingly, it was far too narrow for Laura to squeeze alongside. She’d had to rest in the high-backed chair by the grate and all the offensive smells and night-time sounds of London poured through the half open window.
A serving girl brought him a jug of steaming water for the bowl. She watched as he took off his shirt. Oh lord, those muscles. What a fine body he had. Then she remembered what she was supposed to be doing and time could not be wasted just to admire… She moved closer, quietly coming up behind him. He turned, grabbed a cloth to dry himself, and pulled out a clean shirt from the trunk. She had missed her opportunity. Wherever he was going, he was intending to look smart.
After eggs, ham, and some freshly baked bread, Adam seemed keen to leave. Laura stayed at the table and ate everything that had been left, which wasn’t much. Unfortunately, she’d not seen one of the serving girls approach as she picked up a slice of ham. The girl ran screaming into the kitchen blabbering about the place being haunted. Laura scurried up the stairs to wait outside Adam’s door. She daren’t wait by the carriage in case he didn’t take it. He’d be unlikely to ride Holly or Black. Would he walk? No, the case was far too heavy and he’d not want it to be on show. A thought occurred to her, she’d find it difficult to follow him if he hired one of those wheeled Sedan Brouette things. They’d become unfashionable, so maybe she’d be all right. She could keep up with an ordinary sedan chair if he took one of those.
He did. Laura thought she might have to trot to keep up but it seemed almost as though she could glide; a worrying development. She’d grabbed some bread before leaving and threw the chunk at some scrawny children who, of a certainty, did not know where their next meal was coming from. Their despair was banished temporarily by disbelief as ‘flying bread’ appeared and fell at their feet.
She was relieved when Adam alighted by a coffee-house in bustling Fleet Street. She caught a glimpse of St Paul’s at the top of Ludgate Hill and remembered Matt reading something of Alexandra’s; she was doing well this time, she was not likely to lose a foot surely? Time was passing and she must act quickly. It shouldn’t be this difficult. She should have been more bold when he was dressing. She followed him inside where he took a table in the corner by a small window and ordered coffee. The walls were a coffee cream colour with chocolate brown highlights and small, brass-framed looking glasses – no, she must say mirrors. She’d love a cup of hot chocolate. It was still only noon but the premises were filling up and the gossip was all about Napoleon. People were swapping newspapers, pouring steaming beverages and generally sounding anxious.
A man cordially asked permission to join Adam at his table and called for some fresh coffee. He introduced himself. Nathan someone, not that it mattered, not in the overall scheme of things. Laura had tried to take advantage of Adam being distracted, but had failed again. “Just in need of a moment’s respite,” the man added in a friendly fashion, “Long journey up from the coast this morning.”
Adam nodded amiably, “You’ve made good time then.”
“Time is everything to me.”
Adam lifted his head from studying his papers; written all over his face was the look one gets when one knows someone but can’t quite remember who he is. “Forgive me, I think I should know you.”
“Let us say that in a few days time, you most probably will.”
Adam returned to studying the papers he’d been poring over in the carriage the previous evening. Laura stood close and parted his hair at the back of his neck. Adam swatted the imagined insect. A moment later, compelled, she lifted the silver chain. It would be visible while it touched his skin – she’d have to be quick and because he’d tucked it inside his cravat, she’d need to pull firmly.
A boy stood in the doorway and yelled, ‘Latest on Napoleon.’ The man opposite Adam turned, clicked his fingers and the boy brought a newspaper. This was her moment. In a flash she jerked it and pulled out the ring Xandra had made for her and looped it over his head. She had now retrieved the copy ring and she carefully put it on her finger. Adam ran his fingers around the top of his cravat. Distracted by his deliberations, he did not recognize his loss.
Laura looked at the set of papers that was absorbing his attention. They were lists of companies. He appeared to have graded them and allocated money. She looked across to the man opposite and moved so she could see what he was doing. Much the same sort of thing, it appeared. He had two headings.
1. News of victory
2. News of defeat
Surely for Adam it wasn’t a question of thinking, or waiting for news like the poor man sitting opposite? Adam knew the outcome. Was he still uncertain? Laura flitted alongside Adam’s table companion and looked at the columns marked ‘News of victory’. She compared them with Adam’s. Many were the same; Adam had researched thoroughly and made notes. She paus
ed. Hmm… if we win, the trade routes will open up again and the commodities that have been in short supply until now will be available again – oh I see. Of course, that meant that the alternatives might not be used any more. When Wellington defeated Napoleon, there would be a huge shift in company fortunes.
She was in danger of forgetting the very thing she had come for. She moved back behind Adam and slipped her diamond ring from her hand. His diamond ring. She threaded the chain through it and placed it around his neck. She had returned what was not rightfully hers.
He put his hand to his neck and found Laura’s original ring which he pulled out to view. So startled was he, that he overturned his coffee cup and had to call for a cloth. In seeking assistance, he caught sight of someone glancing over his table companion’s shoulder and attempting to see the information. Indicating the offender, Adam said quietly, “If your papers are confidential, sir, you may wish to view them more discreetly.”
Laura could do one more thing for him before leaving. Just in case he needed reassurance, she must sufficiently agitate him to get him to the stockbroker before his anxiety outweighed his faith. Into his ear she whispered, “For your unending charity, you have been granted precious knowledge. Go now and put it to good use.”
The colour drained from Adam’s face and he quickly tucked away the diamond ring. “I must take my leave of you, sir.”
The man opposite attempted a bow from the cramped position of his chair and responded, “I wish you well in these uncertain times.”
“I thank you, sir.” Then, unease conquered, he took up his case and stated, “I believe we shall win.”
“I await such tidings.” The man hesitated before he whispered, “Many will think otherwise. Prices will plummet – then is the time to buy. Remember timing is everything.” Adam’s curiosity was aroused: the battle was still raging but this stranger also seemed to think Wellington would win. The man tapped the table gently and continued in a confidential manner. “With a strong west wind, the news of Napoleon’s defeat will be delayed. Be sure to buy low, when others panic – and sell a short while after the official news of victory. Make your instructions to your broker very clear." There was a moment's pause before he added, "And explain to no one.”
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