by Bess McBride
“Yes, thank you, William, that was most kind of you.” Reggie turned to her “And how do you find your first morning in 1827, Phoebe? Did you sleep well?”
She looked up to see Mattie and William smiling at her and awaiting her response. She blushed and nodded. It wasn’t quite like talking to Reggie in private.
“Yes, thank you. I slept very well. The bed was exceedingly comfortable.”
Mattie hooted. “Oh, you are going to fit in!” she cried. “Exceedingly indeed!”
Phoebe grinned. “You like that, huh?”
Reggie looked toward William. “What is it that they find so amusing, pray tell?”
William laughed. “You will find that my wife finds it tiring to speak in our vernacular, Reggie, and she rarely does so in private. She does, however, attempt to conform when in the company of strangers who do not know her particular circumstances. It seems she is amused to find that Miss Warner is able to conjure up some particularly ‘old-fashioned,’ I think Mattie might say, colloquial speech as well. The women seem to be kindred spirits as well as compatriots.”
Phoebe and Mattie grinned and chuckled.
“I just had to channel some of those historical romance novels I loved so much. The lingo gets easier the longer I’m here though,” Mattie said. “I can’t remember if you said you read, Phoebe. Do you?”
“Oh, yes,” Phoebe replied. “I love historical romances.”
Mattie nodded. “I thought you might. So, who was your favorite historical novelist?”
“Well, Jane Austen, of course, but I absolutely love the works of I.C. Moon. Have you ever heard of her?”
Mattie’s fork clattered to her dish and she swung her head in William’s direction with a rounded “oh” shape to her mouth. William’s eyebrows shot up.
“I.C. Moon? Are you kidding? How did—” Mattie began. She was interrupted by John who knocked on the door and stepped in.
“Lord and Lady Hamilton have arrived and await you in the drawing room.”
Chapter Eleven
Reggie rose abruptly and straightened his waistcoat.
“If you wish to finish your breakfast, Mattie, I can attend to my father.”
“No, no, we’ll come. It might be better if we did. I didn’t know your mother was coming, William. Are you ready, Phoebe?”
Phoebe gulped and nodded. She had a sense of foreboding about this encounter, a feeling that the unexpectedly soft and lovely sensations of the Georgian era would soon be put to the test.
She followed Mattie into the drawing room. The men brought up the rear.
“Lady Hamilton. Lord Hamilton. How nice to see you. Will you stay for tea?” Mattie said.
“Yes, thank you, Mattie,” Lady Hamilton, a tall svelte blonde, said. “I should also like to see Amelia while I am here. Perhaps before we leave?”
“Certainly. I am sure she would love to see you as well.” Mattie pulled a bell rope near the wall.
William kissed his mother’s cheek and led her to the settee.
“Reggie, my boy!” Lord Hamilton boomed as he pulled his son into an embrace. He shared his son’s height, though his frame was bulkier. “I thought you had made good on your threat and left for America, but when Sebastian came home without you, I knew something was amiss. William was good enough to send me a message saying you were discovered yesterday late and brought here. Were you injured?”
Reggie shook his head. “No, Father, only rendered unconscious for a short period.” He gestured to Phoebe, who had been hiding by the door, to come forward. She approached on leaden feet.
Mattie jumped in.
“And here is my cousin, Miss Phoebe Warner, come to visit us from New York City.” She fixed Lady Hamilton with a challenging eye.
Lady Hamilton drew in a sharp breath and stared hard at Phoebe.
“I am delighted to meet you, Miss Warner. A cousin?” Phoebe couldn’t remember if Lady Hamilton knew that Mattie had traveled in time, and she hesitated to answer.
“Yes, she is, Lady Hamilton,” Mattie said with a straight face. “On my mother’s side.”
Lady Hamilton slid her eyes in Lord Hamilton’s direction with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Phoebe deduced that Lady Hamilton knew about Mattie, and therefore now Phoebe, but Lord Hamilton did not.
“Welcome to England, Miss Warner,” Lord Hamilton said almost dismissively. “And where have you been then for the past two days, Reggie? Why did you not return home last night?”
“I was found by a field hand, and he and his wife saw to me until I was well enough to travel again. They delivered me here...in their cart.”
“What field hand, pray tell?” Lord Hamilton bellowed. “Do not say they did not know who you were. Everyone knows you are my son. Why would they not return you to our house for proper medical attention? Give me his name at once, and I shall rectify this.”
“Nonsense, Father. I am well and recovered. Please say no more about it.”
“What is this nonsense of having clothing brought here? Your valet was packing as we left the house.”
“I am of a mind to sojourn with my brother, William, and Mrs. Sinclair for a while, Father.”
John arrived with the tea, and the room quieted. On his departure, Lord Hamilton blustered a bit more. Phoebe thought she saw genuine love and grief on the older man’s face, and perhaps hurt—hurt that Reggie wanted to leave in the first place, and hurt that he wasn’t returning home right away. She blamed herself. If she hadn’t begged Reggie to stay, he would have gone to his own house. That had been his original plan.
“Come, Jonathan, please sit and have some tea,” Lady Hamilton said. “Reggie is a grown man, and must do as he likes. Your other brother, Samuel, would like to see you, Reggie. He desired me to tell you he would visit you in the afternoon if that is convenient for you.”
Reggie’s cheeks bronzed. “Yes, of course. I would have come to see my brother as soon as possible.”
Phoebe dropped her eyes to the floor. She could have smacked herself. And she was keeping him from his brother as well. How selfish could she have been, whining about her fears and pushing to get her own way? She looked up to see Lady Hamilton studying her.
“Will join me on the settee, Miss Warner?” she asked.
Phoebe moved forward automatically, but as she walked she noted the tips of her sneakers popped out. She hesitated and moved to stand behind the chair in which Mattie sat.
“I hurt my back somehow and have to stand today. Thank you though.”
“A pity,” Lady Hamilton said. Mattie, no doubt in support, rose to stand beside Phoebe.
“Yes, we believe she injured herself traveling.”
Lady Hamilton gave Mattie a wry look, and Mattie gazed at her innocently.
“Traveling can be fraught with peril,” Lady Hamilton murmured. “And how did you travel to England, Miss Warner?”
“By ship, of course, Mother,” William replied with a warning lift of one eyebrow. He too looked toward Lord Hamilton, who seemed unaware of any undercurrent in the conversation.
“Well, of course,” Lord Hamilton agreed. “How else would she arrive, my dear?”
At his words, Lady Hamilton recollected herself, as if she had forgotten he was there.
“How long will you be staying, Miss Warner?” Her eyes slid to Reggie with a speculative glance.
“We do not know, Lady Hamilton. Perhaps a long while.” Mattie replied.
“I find it somewhat disconcerting that everyone feels they must answer for Miss Warner. Are you bashful, Miss Warner?” Lady Hamilton with a faint smile.
Phoebe took the bait.
“Just a bit, Lady Hamilton. I am not sure how long I will be staying.”
“When did you arrive?”
Phoebe glanced at Mattie who gave a slight shrug.
“Yesterday.”
“And then Reggie was found. What a busy day for the Ashton House, to be sure,” Lady Hamilton said dryly.
“Yes, indeed
,” William said with a lift of his lips.
“Then it follows that Reggie and Miss Warner met yesterday? Or this morning?” Lady Hamilton asked.
Phoebe looked at Reggie who watched his stepmother with narrowed eyes.
“Yesterday,” Reggie said tersely. “A most felicitous event. I was very pleased to meet the cousin of my sister-in-law.”
“Yes, I think that must be true. And an American, no less,” Lady Hamilton said, again with a dry note in her voice.
“Yes,” Reggie agreed.
“American,” Lord Hamilton repeated. “Yes, I am sure you are pleased, Reggie, given that you have stated you wish to emigrate there.”
Reggie sighed. “Not emigrate, Father. I said I wished to visit for an extended period of time. Not emigrate.”
“And are your plans still fixed in that direction?” he asked.
Reggie’s eyes narrowed. “I think this conversation might not be of interest to others, sir. Perhaps we could discuss this at another time. In answer to your question though, I shall remain in England for the present.”
“Good!” his father said. “Miss Warner, please find a happy medium between describing your country enough to satisfy my son’s curiosity, but not in such glowing terms that he must continue to harbor this desire to move to America.”
“Father!” Reggie sputtered. Lady Hamilton smiled but sobered on Lord Hamilton’s next words.
“Do not ‘Father’ me, my boy. Lady Hamilton has already lost her only daughter to America. We cannot continue to lose our children to foreign countries.”
“I think we have belabored this conversation long enough, particularly in front of a guest,” Reggie said firmly.
“Yes, I think so, too. Let’s bring Mia down to see her grandparents,” Mattie said.
“Capital!” Lord Hamilton said. “A jolly child.”
Lady Hamilton smiled, a genuine smile of affection unlike the unfailingly polite smile she’d worn up to now.
Mattie rang for John and asked him to have Jane bring Mia down.
Reggie startled Phoebe by moving quickly to her side. “I think we must leave the grandparents to visit with their grandchild. Would you care to take a walk in the gardens, Miss Warner?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Phoebe grabbed his arm and, ignoring Lady Hamilton’s sharp look, sailed out of the room with him. Once outside the door, she let her mouth drop and stared at Reggie, who grinned, but put a finger to his lips.
“This way, Miss Warner,” he said as he led her out the front door.
“Oh, my gosh, Reggie,” Phoebe said on a nervous giggle as soon as they cleared the house. “That was nerve wracking. She knows.”
“My stepmother? Yes, it would appear that she has correctly surmised that you are a time traveler like Mattie. William told me last night that Lady Hamilton knew about Mattie. This is all so novel to me, and yet I discover that the notion of time travel was not unheard of in this family. I am dumbfounded.”
They walked around the front of the house, which in daylight, still looked like one of the mansions in the I.C. Moon movies with its walls of golden sandstone. Was it possible they had filmed one of the movies here? She couldn’t remember. A myriad of windows with white-painted sills faced the front and sides, flanked by the ivy she’d noted the night before—emerald green now in daytime. The sun shone gently as she had imagined an English sun would.
Reggie led her back to the garden where she’d waited for him the night before. The wonderful smell she had previously noted emanated from roses, lots and lots of roses in bloom. A small fountain did indeed trickle in the middle of a circular stone pond.
Reggie bypassed the benches and continued to stroll along the garden path. Phoebe lifted her skirts and petticoat to keep them off the ground. She’d always wondered what women did with the hems of their dresses outside. Just let them trail in the dirt?
“Phoebe, do you still wear your sneakers? How is it that you may continue to wear your sneakers and I may not?” Reggie laughed.
She dropped her skirts.
“Oh, man, I’ve got to remember that I’ve got them on,” she said. “That’s why I was standing in the drawing room, couldn’t sit down. Mattie’s slippers are too small, so I had to keep wearing these. Cute with the dress, don’t ya think?”
“As cute as a button,” Reggie said with an admiring glance in her direction.
Phoebe’s heart brimmed with love.
“I sought an excuse to see you in private, Phoebe,” Reggie said.
“Is something wrong?” Phoebe asked. “Did I mess up in there?”
“No, not at all. You comported yourself very well, especially in light of my stepmother’s interrogation. I simply wished to be with you, that is all. As we were—without an audience.”
Phoebe tucked her arm in tighter and pressed closely to his side. “Me, too. Everyone has been so kind, but I feel happiest when I’m with you...alone.”
He covered her hand with his own. “Just so,” he murmured.
“Do you think your father knows? About the time traveling?”
Reggie shook his head. “I do not. My father could not remain silent regarding such knowledge. He is not a particularly discreet man, as you may have noticed.”
Phoebe laughed.
“No, but I’ll bet you’re never left in doubt about his feelings. He’s pretty open.”
“Open,” Reggie muttered. “Yes, that is a good word.”
“I have to say I prefer that to the polished front that Lady Hamilton puts on. She worries me.”
“In what way, Phoebe? For all her high-handed ways, my stepmother would never seek to harm you.”
“No, no, I don’t think she would do that. But...” Phoebe paused. “She doesn’t really seem to accept Mattie, and I think she probably won’t accept me...not that she needs to, of course.”
“But she most assuredly needs to accept you...as the woman whom I most admire in the world. For if it is within my power, if I can will it to be so, I will you to stay with me. I am completely besotted with you, Phoebe. I love you most dearly, and I do not wish to be parted from you...ever.”
Phoebe forgot all about Lady Hamilton as she felt herself swept up into an embrace. Reggie held her firmly but kissed her tenderly, and she returned his kiss with love.
“I love you too, Reggie. I really, really do,” she whispered against his lips. “No, I can’t be apart from you either. I just can’t imagine.”
Reggie lifted his head and smiled at her. “Miss Phoebe Warner, would you do me the honor of—”
The sound of a child’s laughter caught their ears, and they sprang apart. Mia toddled into the garden followed by her father, Mattie, and Lord and Lady Hamilton.
“Ah! You have found our guests, Mia,” William said. “Forgive our boisterous intrusion. Amelia insisted on running out to the garden, to the point of pounding on the front door. It is quite her favorite place on the estate.”
Phoebe caught Reggie’s eye and smiled regretfully before turning her attention to the group near the fountain. Mia reached over the basin of the stone fountain and splashed the water with her tiny hands, giggling and stomping her baby feet as she did so.
“Here you are, Reggie,” Lord Hamilton said. He came to stand beside his son.
Lady Hamilton looked from Reggie to Phoebe with narrowed eyes before seating herself on the bench to watch Mia play with the fountain. William, a knowing smile on his face, turned his attention to Mia, and Mattie joined him.
Thankfully, Mia became the center of attention for the next fifteen minutes as she played, and Phoebe was able to collect her thoughts with an occasional glance at Reggie. Had he been about to propose to her? After only two days? What was she supposed to do? Say?
Everything seemed so surreal in 1827—the palatial mansion in front of her, the clothing, the mannerisms, a proposal of marriage. Did things really move so quickly here? Shouldn’t she and Reggie “date” for a while? Get to know each other better?<
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She watched Reggie as he spoke to his father. She was crazily in love with him, there was no doubt about it. But she didn’t really know him very well. What if her Georgian hero had a dark side, a violent streak? What if he hid a crazy wife somewhere or a mistress? What if Reggie had a disease, not curable in the nineteenth century—tuberculosis or a venereal disease? Not everything in the nineteenth century was a pleasant Jane Austen novel. The Bronte sisters had already been born, if Phoebe’s memory served her correctly, and were well on their way to depicting gloomy, forbidden romances. Phoebe thought she remembered reading that they themselves had died of tuberculosis.
A shiver ran up her spine. She knew nothing about Reggie at all, and yet she felt so incredibly close to him—as if he were the other half of her. What she knew of him, she loved. But to give up her entire life to a virtual stranger?
She eyed Mattie who seemed very happy with her William. Reggie, similar to William in his aristocratic bearing and dashing looks, seemed wholesome and harmless. But two days?
Maybe she could avoid the subject for a while, stall if and when he brought it up. Besides, for all she knew, he might have been inviting her for a drive in his carriage. Perhaps she was overreacting. The tightness in her throat eased. Reggie—diseased, dishonest, dishonorable? Never!
Lady Hamilton rose and announced they would depart. As the group turned toward the front of the house, Reggie held out his arm and Phoebe took it. He bent his head to speak to her.
“We must continue our conversation at the earliest opportunity, my love. I wished most particularly to ask you a question.”
Phoebe bit her lip. “Umm...sure,” she replied.
She should have known Reggie would be attuned to every inflection in her voice. His brows came together.
“Is aught amiss, Phoebe? I watched you while the child played at the fountain. Your face registered many emotions, some of which I could not decipher. I hope that I have not frightened you with the ardency of my affections.”
Phoebe couldn’t help herself. “I love you, Reggie. What I know of you,” she whispered. “But we don’t know each other very well.”