Through the Mist: Restoration

by C. Renee Freeman

  As he helped her to her chair, she tried to remain calm. She was sitting in the same dining room where Beth took a ton of pictures the previous day. The crystal chandeliers she admired were now lit with a multitude of candles and looked just as beautiful as she imagined they would. Several silver candelabras that were carefully arranged on the table and sideboard provided soft light to the room.

  From the gleaming silver of the candelabras to the sparkling chandeliers, Tilly was amazed at the extravagance on display. Even the tapestries looked richer. Since they were over two hundred years younger, it seemed appropriate. The Greek banquet scene depicted in the tapestries was easier to see without the protective layer of Plexiglas, and the color was not muted. The vivid blues, greens, and gold practically glowed in the warm candlelight. The scene was breathtaking.

  The shift from one time to another gave Tilly a headache. She spotted a glass of wine in front of her and took a healthy gulp.

  She tilted her head to the side so she could see around the candelabras. Benjamin sat at the opposite end of the long table. He was too far away for conversation and, judging from the look on his face, did not seem inclined toward it.

  She surveyed in awe the vast spread of dishes in front of her. She spotted more food than one would find on the brunch buffet of that fancy hotel in Asheville, the one where Beth and Randall always celebrated their wedding anniversary.

  The butler, Mr. Murphy, marched into the room with three footmen. Dinner began with military-like precision when he announced the menu for the evening. The meats were a haunch of venison and a loin of pork. A variety of sauces were available for the other offerings of salmon, mutton, and chicken.

  One of the three smartly-dressed footmen ladled soup from a gleaming silver tureen in the center of the table into the most delicate bowls of china Tilly had ever seen. With great care, he handed the bowls to the other footmen, who ceremoniously placed them in front of Benjamin and her.

  “What is it?” she asked him. She hoped it was not a breach in protocol to ask questions about the menu.

  “Rabbit soup, milady,” the footman answered with a nod.

  Benjamin coughed and gingerly wiped the corner of his mouth. He barely concealed the smile on his lips. Tilly choose to ignore him.

  They ate the soup in silence. The footmen stood beside the tapestries, gazing fixedly at a spot on the wall. She found their presence unnerving.

  When they were finished with the soup, the bowls and tureen were whisked away under the watchful eye of Mr. Murphy. He supervised the pouring of the next varietal of wine, ensuring that not a drop touched the white table cloth. He instructed the footmen to serve the fish and complimented milord at the choice of accompanying sauce. He scowled at the men if they were too slow in bringing a serving of whatever morsel his liege desired. With so many bowls and plates of food spread across the table, one need only glance at the food, and Mr. Murphy made sure someone promptly brought it to one’s side.

  The rest of the meal was a blur for Tilly. She could not relax and enjoy the food under the dull look of the footmen or withering gaze of the butler. She nibbled at the endless offerings, wondering how someone did not gain lots of weight from eating so much food this late in the evening. Judging from the darkness outside, it had to be at least eight o’clock.

  She had no problems with the delicious wine, though, drinking more than she should. She noticed that Benjamin drank small amounts from each glass and did not drain his as she did. She should follow his example but found it difficult to do at that moment.

  When the footmen cleared the table, she thought the meal was over. She groaned inwardly when they returned with more food. This time, they brought trays of cheese and salad. It was delicious, but she was near the point of bursting. The previous dishes were so rich, unlike her usual diet. They weighed heavily in her stomach. Do they have antacids in this time? she thought, putting down her fork.

  The table was cleared again. The footmen delivered another round of savory dishes. They looked expectantly at her, ready to dole out whatever she liked upon her plate. She dared a glance down the long table at her host.

  Benjamin ate his food in silence. She was somewhat annoyed that he did not bother to make small talk or even look at her. And, she observed that he did not seem to suffer the ill effects of too many entrees. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the meal.

  Well, I cannot eat another bite, she decided. She placed her napkin upon the table and rose from her chair, surprising the footmen. They exchanged a worried glance. Would Mr. Murphy be angry with them? She hoped not.

  “Mr. Campbell, I thank you very much for your great hospitality,” she said, moving away from the table. “I fear my travels have made me most weary. I shall retire for the evening.”

  She attempted a weak curtsey and moved toward the door. She would have hurried back to her room but heard Benjamin walking behind her. She paused.

  He took her by the elbow and led her into the hallway. In hushed tones, he asked, “May I speak with you privately? I can come to your receiving room in an hour.”

  At her nod, he said in a louder voice, “I am sorry to hear you are tired from your journey. Please have a pleasant rest, madam.” He bowed deeply and returned to finish his dinner.

  ∞

  Once Tilly was in her room, she pulled the pins from her hair and let it cascade down her back. She was curious about why Benjamin wanted to speak with her. He seemed so distant during dinner.

  She could not ponder the matter further, for a maid knocked on her door. The servant was not the blue-eyed beauty who attended her earlier. This woman – or girl, to be more precise – was fair in complexion with dark brown eyes and hair. She kept her head down and spoke so softly that Tilly repeatedly asked her what she said.

  It seemed a lady expected a maid to attend her when she prepared for bed. The girl was sent to help. Tilly ruefully admitted she had no idea how she was supposed to remove a corset without assistance.

  Once in the dressing room, the maid disassembled Tilly in far less time than it would have taken by herself. She was happy when the girl presented her with a comfortable night gown. At least the bed clothes are not confining, she thought, slipping the garment over her head.

  She thanked the maid for her help and once again felt a bit elitist. She never had servants. It felt wrong not to thank them at the very minimum. It felt stranger still when the maid curtsied as she exited the room. Tilly did not feel worthy of a curtsey.

  Shaking her head, she knew she was ignorant about the ways of this age. She did not plan to be in 1801 long enough to learn any lessons.

  ∞

  Sometime later, Benjamin knocked upon Tilly’s door. She warily cracked open the door, then broke into a relieved smile upon seeing him.

  “I apologize for intruding upon your evening,” he said. Seeing her bedclothes, he blushed slightly. “I wanted to speak with you but see you have already prepared for bed. Please forgive me, madam.”

  Tilly rolled her eyes. She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room. She locked the door, fearing another maid would appear to tuck her into bed and read her a bedtime story. “Propriety be damned,” she said in frustration. “After all, it is your house. You should be able to do whatever you want.”

  It was clear from the expression on his face that he wanted to protest, but, to Tilly’s relief, he did not. She motioned for him to join her in the chairs beside the fireplace.

  “I would prefer it if you called me by my Christian name,” she said. She held up her hands. “I know it is not proper, but can we dispense with the formalities in private?”

  Benjamin nodded, a sly smile tugging on his lips. “Given our history, it seems fitting,” he said. He took a seat by the fireplace and stretched his long legs toward the fire. Undoing the knot around his neck, he sighed with pleasure.

  “Mrs. Munro – Tilly,” he said. “I am sorry we could not speak freely during our meal. The servants are always a concern, particularly Mr.
Murphy.”

  She sat in a chair opposite him. “Why is Mr. Murphy a concern?” she asked, curious.

  He seemed to struggle for the right response, which seemed odd to her. Finally, he relented and answered honestly, “He was hired by my father. He reports everything that happens in this castle to the man. I must be careful about what I say in front of him.”

  She was surprised. She assumed everyone in the castle was loyal to the “laird.” She said as much.

  “We do not use that term anymore,” he said, chuckling. “However, if we did, that title would have belonged to my brother Allan. I am the second son. I was never meant to be the master of the castle.”

  Tilly knew in the old days…or present, the first son inherited everything, leaving the rest of the children to find their way in life. “What were you supposed to do?” she asked.

  “I planned to be a soldier. Then, my brother died. My plans changed.”

  “How did he die?”

  A shadow fell upon Benjamin’s face. “He was murdered by the MacDonalds,” he said. His eyes bored into hers. “It is an infamous affair. I am surprised you are unaware of it.”

  “How would I know?” she asked defensively. “I told you that I am not of this time. It certainly was not mentioned during the tour.”

  “What tour?” he asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. “Have you been in my home before this day?”

  “Yes, I have. The castle is a tourist attraction in my time,” she said. She smiled at a memory. “Beth was so excited to see it. We were fortunate that the former groundskeeper, Mr. Douglas, gave us a personal tour. We saw all sorts of interesting things the general public could not see.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, not all of the rooms are available for viewing.”

  “No, they are not,” he mumbled absently.

  “What?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. She had a feeling Benjamin was not pleased about her prior visit but did not understand why.

  “Pray, forgive my interruption,” he said, waving his hand. “What did you see during your tour?”

  “Well, we saw a few rooms. The ones that impressed me the most were the guest library and state bedchamber,” she said. She paused, noting the serious expression upon his face. “Are you alright, Benjamin?”

  “Aye, I am well,” he said distractedly. He leaned forward. “You saw the state bedchamber? No one is allowed access to that chamber.”

  “Maybe no one can visit now. It has been fully restored in my time, so it is an important area of the castle.”

  Suddenly, she remembered something from the tour. “Oh, and what is up with your father’s bed?” she asked. “That is the gaudiest thing I have ever seen!”

  He stared at her for some time before he spoke. “You saw my father’s bed? Is that how you came to be here?”

  “What?!” she exclaimed in disbelief. “What the hell are you saying?” She had an inkling that he implied something unflattering, yet wanted to hear the words from his mouth.

  “I find the situation fascinating,” he commented, leaning back in the chair and tenting his fingers in front of his face. “You are a strange woman who appeared in the middle of the night. You claim no connection to ‘this time,’ as you say. You wore unusual clothes when I found you. And, now you tell me that you know the look of my father’s bed, even though his room is only seen by intimate relations. How extraordinary!”

  Tilly rose from her chair and angrily tossed another log on the fire. She grasped the poker in her hand, prodding the logs and sending orange sparks into the flue. She allowed the tears to tumble unchecked down her cheeks. “I know you do not believe me,” she sobbed. “I really am from the future. I know these things because it was all part of the tour.”

  She turned to face him, unconsciously clenching the poker. “I swear to you that I am nothing more than a lost person,” she said. “As soon as I can figure out how to leave this place, I will.”

  Benjamin joined her beside the fireplace. He carefully took the poker from her hand and returned it to the stand. “I am sorry that I made you cry, Tilly,” he said, brushing the tears from her cheeks.

  She shrugged and tried to turn away from him. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek and forced her to look at him. “Do you miss your family?” he asked. “I miss my dear Mary so much sometimes that I can hardly breathe.”

  She met his gaze. “I do, very much,” she whispered. “It feels as if a giant hole has opened in my chest. I don’t know if anything will ever fill it.”

  Despite her better judgment, she wrapped her arms around him. She felt such comfort whenever he held her. She pressed her face against the rough linen of his shirt and asked, “Does the pain ever go away?”

  He stroked her back and held her close to him, saying slowly, “I am told it will.” With a bitter chuckle, he added, “It certainly does not feel that way. Why do people fall in love when its loss is so devastating?”

  She had no answer for him. Instead, she held him tighter.

  They stood that way for many minutes, drawing comfort and strength from each other. Whatever the circumstances of their meeting, Tilly knew they both ached. In each other’s arms, perhaps they could enjoy a brief respite from the pain.

  It eventually became apparent, though, that the close proximity called to mind memories of their torrid first meeting. She felt a growing heat that had nothing to do with the fire by which they stood. And she could tell that he felt it too. Reluctantly, they pulled away from each other. Benjamin pressed her hand against his lips, bade her good night, and quietly slipped from the room.

  Once again, Tilly was left with the sensation that it was all a dream. She fervently hoped she would awake tomorrow to find herself in her comfy bed at Mrs. Douglas’ inn. And yet…she wished he had kissed her goodnight on the lips, not her hand.

  ∞

  Mrs. Keith rubbed her aching neck as she strode by the kitchen in the basement of the castle. She waved at the cook who grunted a greeting and returned to punching the unyielding bread dough. It had been a long, strange day.

  She checked the lock on the door to the hallway leading to the maids’ rooms. They were threatened with death if they did not keep that door locked, so she was happy to find that the women compiled. The last thing she needed was a pregnant servant.

  She unlocked the door to the hallway that lead to her own suite. She shared the area with Mr. Murphy, the butler. Their section of the basement was quite spacious and comfortable, a nod to their elevated rank among the other servants. They each had an office and private bedchamber, in addition to a shared receiving room. It was the most luxurious arrangement she had ever had in her many years of service, and she was most grateful for it.

  Naturally, the wine, spirits, china, and silver were kept in rooms along their private hallway. His Grace considered the contents to be too precious, so they were kept well away from the sticky fingers of unscrupulous staff. As she walked past the wine and spirit room, she noticed the door was open. Peering inside, she found Mr. Murphy taking inventory of the wine supply. “How are you this evening, sir?” she asked courteously.

  He frowned, placing a bottle of wine on the shelf. He lifted the candlestick from its resting place on a small, round table and moved toward the door. “I am most agitated, madam,” he replied. He closed the door and locked it.

  They moved toward the receiving room. “Milord asked you to attend our visitor,” he said, opening the door and gesturing for her to enter. “What can you tell me about her?”

  Mrs. Keith took her usual seat in a simple wooden chair beside the fireplace. She stretched her weary hands toward the fire and sighed contentedly as the heat eased the ache in her bones. “We did not converse beyond the usual civilities,” she answered. “She seems to be a pleasant woman.”

  Mr. Murphy placed the candlestick on the mantel and shook his head. “I do not like it,” he said. “Did you notice her peculiar appearance when she arrived? It was thoroughly disreputable.”r />
  She knew that guests would not enjoy the butler’s esteem unless they arrived in a splendid carriage and were members of the peerage. Despite his own lower rank, he believed himself superior to most people. It was why the servants resented him so much. “It is not for us to cast dispersions upon any guest milord brings to Castle Fion,” she said tactfully. “I am sure all will be explained in due time.”

  “His Grace would not approve,” he said, snorting derisively. “Let us hope her visit will be of short duration.”

  Mrs. Keith stared at the man and listened as he continued to grumble. The butler was a spy for Malcolm Campbell; everyone knew it. For Mrs. Munro’s sake, she hoped he was right about the length of the visit. It was best not to make an enemy of Mr. Murphy or Malcolm Campbell.

  Fourteen

  Tilly awoke the next morning and was startled to find that she had overslept. Even after the accident, she could not bring herself to sleep late. A habit had been formed. She spent too many years with the alarm always blaring too early every morning. If she didn’t get a jump on the day, how would she prepare everyone for theirs? John and Anna must go to school. Alex often left early in the morning so that he could meet with his staff. Those few precious moments before the rest of the house awakened were her only opportunity to enjoy a little peace.

  She stretched languorously in the bed before tossing back the bedspread. She tugged at the bed curtains that had successfully blocked the morning sun and probably contributed to her deep sleep. Squinting against the sudden appearance of light, she looked around the room and noticed that the same maid who attended her the previous evening stood silently in the doorway. Upon seeing that Tilly had awakened, the girl curtsied and strode to the bed, robe in hand. If she needed any reminder of her new reality, being greeted by a servant gave it to her. Back home, she began each morning in the empty bed of an empty house.

  Pushing that devastating thought out of her mind, she reluctantly allowed the girl to help her into the robe and guide her to the dressing room. She noticed that a warm blaze was already prepared in the room’s fireplace.