The ship burned for over an hour before finally beginning to sink, swallowed up by the inky-looking waters of the North Atlantic, and leaving an empty space where only a few moments ago the pyre had been. We all stood silently for a few moments, before the sails were unfurled again, and we began to move away from the scene of the disaster. Alec hoped to catch up with the Dawn within the next few days, and off-load some of the men and supplies. I fervently prayed that the ship had survived the storm, and longed to see its silhouette on the horizon. It wasn’t much, but it was nice to know that we weren’t completely alone amid the vast ocean.
Chapter 59
We finally docked in Jamestown, Virginia at the end of October, and I’d never been so happy to see land. It felt strange not to feel the deck moving beneath my feet, and to stand on solid ground once more. The Misty Dawn had docked a few days before us after waiting for us to catch up after the storm, and taking on half the men from Lady Violet and some of the supplies. To Alec’s great relief, Misty Dawn had not been damaged by the storm at all, having been ahead of us by about half a day and avoiding the storm altogether.
I never wanted to see another ship as long as I lived, and followed Alec down the wharf toward an inn. We would rest, get some real food, take much-needed baths, and await the carriage from Rosewood Manor, Uncle Thomas’ estate. I looked forward to meeting the rest of the family, but deep down, I worried that they would ask too many questions about my past.
Alec checked us into the only inn available and sent a messenger to the plantation. I hoped that we would have at least a full day to rest before anyone came to get us, giving us a few hours of much-needed privacy after being among people for nearly three months. We enjoyed a decadent supper in the inn’s dining room, then went directly upstairs to fall into a soft bed, desperate for rest. Alec and I shared a bed for the first time since leaving Plymouth, and I snuggled against him, enjoying the feel of him against my back. The berths had been too narrow to sleep together, and I sighed contentedly as his arms pulled me close and I sank into a deep sleep.
I would have slept on and on if Bridget hadn’t come by in the morning to bring Finn for his feeding. He’d enjoyed some mashed potatoes and mashed peas the night before, but I would still nurse him to supplement his diet until his first birthday. I sat up in bed, pulling down my nightdress and giving him what he wanted, trying not to disturb Alec. He was dead to the world and I wanted him to get his rest before moving on to the plantation.
Finn looked up at me with those round, green eyes and I felt a pang of sadness, thinking of his father. I wished that I could tell Finlay about our journey, and how big and strong his boy was. He was starting to crawl and was curious about everything, from the seagulls overhead to the bugs he saw crawling on the ground. He’d spent nearly half his life aboard a ship, and was now gazing at the world around him with eyes full of wonder. My eyes filled with tears as I thought of how proud Finlay would have been of his son, and wished that he could see him grow and thrive. I promised myself that I would tell Finn Jr. about his father when he was old enough, and keep Finlay’s memory alive for as long as I lived.
I leaned back against the pillows trying to find a more comfortable position, when there was an urgent knock at the door, and a boy erupted into the room throwing himself at the still sleeping Alec. The boy threw his arms around my husband’s neck, kissing his face and urging him to wake up. Alec’s arms went around Charlie, giving him a bear hug and kissing him back.
“Oh, Alec, I have waited and waited for you. I am so glad you are finally here. Is this baby Finn?” He gazed at Finn with wonder, then looked away in embarrassment seeing my exposed breast.
“I am sorry, Ma’am, I did not realize…” he stammered and turned away, his face beet red.
“It’s quite all right, Charles. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, trying not to laugh. Uncle Thomas had more decorum, and didn’t come bounding into our room. He waited patiently downstairs while we washed and dressed, and came down to greet him. I could see the resemblance between him and Alec and thought he must have been a very handsome man in his day. He was Alec’s father’s younger brother, and I put him somewhere at fifty-five. I could see the easy affection between Alec and his Uncle, and thought that if Tomas’ wife was half as charming as him, we would get on just fine. Lottie was waiting for us at home, having already prepared our rooms, and in the midst of cooking a feast to celebrate our arrival. It was nice to see that we were so eagerly awaited.
Uncle Thomas left us to have some breakfast and make ready, while he went out to supervise the unloading of cargo from Morning Star. It would take several days and be stored in his warehouse at the docks. I didn’t care about the ship or the cargo. I just wanted a bit more time to rest. Thankfully, the coach was comfortable and the ride less than an hour. The plantation sat on several acres of lush farmland, the house large and solid amid the trees that surrounded it. It was white, with black wooden shutters, and a wraparound porch that begged for a couple of rocking chairs and a pitcher of cold lemonade.
Lottie ran out to greet us and took possession of Finn before I even had a chance to get out of the carriage. She presented him with a carved wooden horse on four wheels, that he would be able to roll around on the floor or pull behind him once he started walking. Finn was in heaven, and I was grateful to her for her thoughtfulness. Lottie seemed warm and earthy and I liked her right away. I’m not sure what Alec said to Thomas, but no questions were asked of me, and I was welcomed with open arms.
I was happy to finally go up to bed. We were given comfortable rooms on the second floor, overlooking a lovely lake, its surface glittering in the moonlight. It was nice to be surrounded by family, and I enjoyed watching Charlie looking at Alec with love and awe, thrilled to see his brother again after five long years. Everyone drank a toast to Finlay’s memory, and I heard Lottie discreetly asking Alec if he’d heard from Rose. Alec shook his head sadly, not wanting to be reminded of his sister. I sat back surveying my surroundings. Yet another phase of my life was about to begin and I was ready to face it as long as Alec and Finn were at my side.
Chapter 60
Present Day
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Mr. Taylor asked conversationally, sitting down across from Louisa.
“No, I would like to know what happened, if you don’t mind.” Louisa was still clutching the clock in her hands, afraid to let go of her only leverage.
“All right. No tea.” Mr. Taylor took off his glasses and polished them on his sweater, nearly driving Louisa to an act of violence.
“Will you please quit stalling and tell me?” She didn’t mean to raise her voice at him, but she was losing her patience.
“I have been fascinated with the concept of time travel ever since I was a little boy. I didn’t have many friends, and I spent hours in my room playing with my knights and castles; staging elaborate battles, and wishing I could go back in time and be the hero I could never be in the present. I was good at science, and I studied physics and chemistry, hoping to find a way to do the impossible. It took me nearly thirty years, but I did it. I built a prototype that was able to take me back to the past, by turning the hands of the clock to the desired year.
I was beside myself with excitement, but the scientific community didn’t share my glee. They said there was no way to test the time GPS without using a human being, and it was far too dangerous. If they sent an animal, they’d have no way of knowing what happened to it, and there would be no way to bring it back. I was dismissed out of hand and ridiculed as a dreamer. No one really believed me, even though I had tried the GPS on myself, and had traveled back in time to the Crusades and the Roman Empire.
I admit, my prototype had problems, but it did work. I set out to build a new time travel device. It had to be smaller, easier to carry and hide. The cupid clock was big and heavy and not something you could just stroll around with. It could also break easily and leave you stranded in the past. I used the time travel techn
ology to build a much smaller timepiece, one that looked like a regular watch. I was even able to make it digital for more precise navigation. The second counter could be used to select the month of the year. My cupid became obsolete, but I couldn’t bear to destroy it, so I put it up on a high shelf where I could see it and remember that I had achieved my dream; even if other people did not believe me. No one was ever interested in the clock, so I became careless, forgetting about it half the time.
One day a young woman walked into the shop. She was pretty and talkative, and I was interested to hear about her life in Hungary. It was still behind the Iron Curtain in those days, and I wondered how she managed to get a student visa to come to England. She was the daughter of some high-ranking official who pulled some strings to get his daughter to study abroad. I don’t know what possessed me, but I told her about my time machine, about my dream. She was fascinated, and wanted to see the clock. I was foolish enough to show her. I suppose she didn’t believe me because she turned the hands before I had a chance to stop her.
She vanished before my very eyes, leaving the clock set to 3:43. I knew where she’d gone and I was going to follow her and bring her back, but I thought too long and the hunt for her had begun. The police would want to know where she’d been and I would have a lot of questions to answer. I might have even been charged with a crime, even though I didn’t send her to the past. She was the one who turned the hands.
Eventually, the trail went cold, and after a time people forgot about Erzsebet. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t think of her, and I eventually went to look for her. I couldn’t bring her back, but I could find out what happened to her. By the time I got there, she’d married Thomas Whitfield, who owned that castle on the hill, and was pregnant with her first child. She seemed happy enough, and I left her where she was without ever revealing my presence to her. Knowing she found love and family alleviated my guilt a little.
I should have destroyed the clock, but I couldn’t bring myself to destroy my creation. I just left it sitting there on the shelf, thinking that lightning didn’t strike in the same place twice. Thirty years went by before your sister walked into my shop. She was just looking for souvenirs, and I thought nothing of it as I went into the back room to make a cup of tea. How could I have known that she’d take down the clock and turn the hands? No one was ever interested in that ugly clock that always showed the wrong time, until her.
By the time I came out she was gone, and I saw the clock set to 4:05. She’d gone to the seventeenth century, and I was too much of a coward to go bring her back. After what happened to Erzsebet, I was afraid that the two stories would be linked and people would find out that I withheld the truth all those years ago. I just kept quiet and waited for it to go away, hoping that Valerie would fare no worse than Erzsebet.”
The old man looked at Louisa over his glasses, his eyes begging for her understanding. She was speechless. He’d known what happened to her sister all along, and not only didn’t tell anyone, but left her there alone and helpless to make a life for herself with no chance of coming back.
“Do you know what happened to her once she got there?” asked Louisa, her voice shaking with emotion.
“I went to check on her after about a month. She had gone up to the castle and met Erzsebet’s grandsons, Alexander and Finlay. They took her in and promptly fell head over heels in love with her. She is a pretty girl, your sister. I saw her at a Midsummer Night Ball. She was the life of the party, dancing and flirting, driving the brothers mad with lust. She saw me, but didn’t recognize me. She even laughed at my wig.” He looked a little offended by that and Luisa wanted to strangle the man.
“Did you ever find out what happened after?”
“I didn’t go back again, but I know my English history. We all learn about the Gunpowder Plot, and still celebrate Guy Fawkes Day. Valerie’s husband was a devout Catholic who became involved with the conspirators, helping them obtain gunpowder. He was arrested for treason and tortured. Finlay Whitfield died of his injuries before they had a chance to execute him. Your sister had a spare brother, and I assume she married him next. He would have taken care of her.”
That bit of reasoning fit very neatly into what Louisa already knew. Valerie had married Finlay, who died leaving her pregnant with his child, hence the name Finlay. She must have married Alexander, retaining the name Whitfield and had another child with him. At some point, they traveled to America where she had her portrait painted by Joseph Blackburn.
Valerie had obviously figured out it was the clock that functioned as a time travel device, and had either found the same clock somewhere along the way, or just asked the artist to include it in the painting to send a clue to the present; hoping against hope that Louisa might somehow, somewhere, come across the painting and make the connection. She felt suddenly exhausted. Guessing was one thing, but knowing what happened left her drained. She wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand she wanted to get her sister back, but on the other hand, Valerie had obviously found a life she never expected, and she would not return to the present without her children or her husband. Did she love him, or did she marry him simply to have protection and a father for her son? She would never know, but judging by the serene look in her sister’s eyes, it was safe to say that she was content with her lot.
Louisa put down the clock and rose to leave.
“No one will believe you anyway,” the old man said to her back. “Go back home and forget any of this ever happened. It’s best for everyone.” Louisa walked out of the shop without looking back.
Epilogue
May 1608
Alec fastened Finn’s sapphire necklace around my throat, and bent down to kiss my neck, his lips warm and soft against my skin. “Go on, Valerie. It is time.”
“This is just a colossal waste of time Alec; no one will ever see it.” I felt a sudden reluctance, but Alec gave me a gentle push towards the door.
“Sweetheart, you said yourself that your sister is an art restorer, and that this man, Blackburn will be regarded as a famous painter in your time. There are no guarantees, but this is your only way of sending any kind of message to the future. Louisa has a one in a million chance of coming across this painting, but it is a chance worth taking. Now take your sketch and go.”
He followed me out of the bedroom down the stairs, and went across the hall to visit with Uncle Thomas who was now bedridden and cantankerous, especially since his wife, Lottie, died in the spring. I could see Charles through the window, throwing a ball to two-year-old Finn who was toddling about, thrilled to be getting the attention of his fourteen-year-old uncle. I put a hand on my belly, wondering if the painter would notice that I was pregnant. Probably not. I was only four months along, and the folds of the gown hid my swelling stomach. I hoped it was a girl this time.
Joseph Blackburn was already in the salon that was to be used as a studio for the duration of his stay. His paints and brushes were meticulously laid out on a table covered with a canvas cloth, and he was wearing a paint splattered smock as he set up the canvas.
“Ah, Mrs. Whitfield. I am all ready for you, Ma’am. Please take a seat and make yourself comfortable.” Mr. Blackburn was a charming man, and I felt at ease in his company, although I knew that Alec would be popping in from time to time to make sure the man was not taking any liberties with his wife.
“Mr. Blackburn, before we begin... There’s something I would like you to paint into the portrait. It means quite a lot to me, and I want it in a place of prominence.”
“As you wish, Mrs. Whitfield,” he reached out a hand and took the sketch from me, unrolling it and holding it up for a better look.
“An interesting choice,” he said with a smile. “I will paint it on that table at your side where the morning light can fall on the Cupid.” I could see he was amused, but I didn’t care. I was sending a message through time.
An exerpt from A Leap of Faith:a sequel to
The Hands of Time -- Coming Soon
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br /> Prologue
The Present
Louisa sank to her knees in front of the newly erected gravestone, not caring about the mud left by last night’s rain. The morning was misty and cool, with raindrops sliding like tears off the surrounding trees, and onto the forest of wet gravestones below. There wasn’t a person in sight, leaving the cemetery eerily silent and sinister. Even the birds dared not sing. She rested her head against the rough, cool granite and ran her fingers reverently over the names of her parents, etched into the monument. It’s been a year; a whole year of grief, guilt and terrible loneliness. The date of death would have been the same for both of them, had her father not managed to hang on for a few more hours, surviving past midnight, therefore, dying a day later than her mother.
Thank God, Doug had been there to comfort her, and lead her sobbing from the Emergency Room of Lennox Hill Hospital on that terrible day. He made all the arrangements for the funeral, and contacted all the necessary people, leaving Louisa cocooned in her grief. But Doug was gone now too. He had accepted a transfer to the Shanghai office and left New York three months ago. In all fairness, he did ask her to come, but Louisa had refused. She had her own plans,and they would be much easier to carry out with Doug out of the way.
“Mom. Dad,” Louisa whispered, “I’ve come to say goodbye. I would never have contemplated this had you still been alive, but there’s no longer anything to hold me back. There’s no one left to stay for.”
Louisa had never told her parents the truth. She simply couldn’t find the words. Valerie wasn’t dead, as everyone believed her to be. Louisa had found her, quite by accident, in a painting that came to the museum from some estate sale in Virginia. The painting was dated 1608, but it was her sister - no doubt about it. There was another painting, from several years later, of Valerie’s children, Finlay and Louisa.
The Hands of Time Page 17