“Come to bed,” Hugo finally said as he pulled me to my feet and handed me my shift. “I’m exhausted.”
Hugo tucked me in, gave me a tender kiss, and then climbed in on the other side next to Michael. I smiled as I saw him breathe in the child’s sweet smell. Hugo kissed the top of Michael’s head, then leaned over and kissed Valentine. He gave me a tired smile before falling into a deep sleep. I began to drift as my mind finally let go and allowed me to rest.
Chapter 20
Frances stared at Archie in mute incomprehension. Was he making a joke at her expense? No, he couldn’t be. Archie looked deadly serious as he related his conversation with Hugo. Silent tears began to fall as the reality of the situation finally began to sink in. They were leaving. Forever. There would be no letters, no visits, and no connection of any sort. Archie pulled Frances against his chest and stroked her hair, gentling her the way he would one of his horses.
“It will be all right, Franny. We’ll miss them, but it’s you and me now, and that’s all we really need.”
“No,” Frances shook her head against him. “No.” Archie kissed the top of her head.
“Franny, they don’t have much of a choice. They would stay if they could; you know that.”
“The children,” Frances sobbed.
“I know you’ll miss the children, but they’ll be better off where they are going. They’ll have better chances of survival, and grand opportunities. Or so Hugo says,” Archie added, unable to picture the world Hugo spoke of so eloquently. It all sounded like some laudanum-induced dream, a landscape full of sound and color, and strange machines, which would dissipate as soon as the drug wore off.
Frances drew away from her husband and looked up at him, her tear-stained face a picture of misery. “And what of us, Archie? What will we do without them? Where will we live?”
“We can do anything we want, my love. Hugo owes me some wages, and I have some money put by. We’ll have enough for a fresh start. We can stay here in Surrey, or we can go to London or Paris. You loved it in France. We can buy a little farmhouse somewhere and just live off the land. What do you think of that?”
“I think that’s the most fanciful idea you’ve ever had,” Frances replied, smiling despite the tears. “I’ve never met a man less suited to farming than you, Archie.”
Archie smiled guiltily. She was right; he hated farming. He found it to be tedious, backbreaking, and utterly boring. The most exciting thing to happen to a farmer, and not in a good way, was the loss of crop, or a sickness among the animals.
“You love it, Archie, the intrigue and danger of serving Lord Everly,” Frances observed.
“I do not,” Archie protested half-heartedly.
“You do. You come alive when something is brewing. You are not a man content with dull manual labor. If you were, you’d move back home and run your father’s farm. His health is failing, and he’s hardly in a position to keep the farm going for much longer. But you need adventure and excitement. You’d die a little each day if running the farm was your whole life. And so would I,” Frances added, shuddering with disgust. Spending her days cooking, mending, and looking after the animals was not a life she could embrace happily.
Archie gave Frances a perplexed look. Did he really crave excitement that much? He supposed he did. Frances was right; he did come alive when something was afoot. He enjoyed the anticipation, the planning, and the pounding of blood in his veins when there was even a hint of danger. Archie was born to be a soldier, his father said that often enough, but Horatio Hicks had forbidden his son to take up arms after he’d witnessed the slaughter of the Civil War in his youth.
“What about the New World then?” Archie asked, suddenly excited by the idea. “We can sail to Virginia, or Massachusetts Colony and start afresh. They need men like me there. They need men who can wield a sword as well as plant a crop. There are attacks from the Native Indians. I hear they are fierce warriors,” Archie said, his voice full of awe.
“Good grief,” Frances exclaimed as she pushed Archie away. “Are you mad? I am not going to America to be surrounded by Puritans or slaughtered by Indians, Archibald Hicks, so you can just put that brilliant idea out of your mind.”
Frances turned her back to Archie and pretended to go to sleep. Archie moved closer to her and pressed himself against her back as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. “Come here, Franny,” he whispered in her ear. “We don’t have to go to the Colonies, but we can pretend that I am a savage and have captured a beautiful white woman and taken her prisoner. Hmm, what will I do with her?” he asked playfully as he pressed his hard length against her back, moving his hips provocatively. Frances giggled and turned to face Archie.
“You really are a terrible rascal,” she said as she pulled him toward her for a kiss.
Chapter 21
Archie watched silently as shifting shadows passed over Frances’s sleeping face. Even in repose, she looked tense and unhappy, her eyes moving rapidly beneath the lids. He thought that making love to her would help her relax, but the impending separation from the Everlys was uppermost in her mind. He couldn’t blame her. He didn’t feel the same emotional dependence on Hugo as Frances felt toward Neve, but he would feel bereft once they’d gone, he knew that.
Archie turned onto his back and stared at the embroidered canopy, his eyes unseeing. He’d meant to tell Franny of Hugo’s offer, but somehow the words didn’t come. What if she wished to go with them? As her husband, he had every right to make the decision for them both, but he’d promised himself that he would never behave like a tyrant, and meant to keep his word. If Frances wanted to go, he’d have to at least consider the possibility.
The very idea was exciting and disturbing at the same time. Hugo regaled Archie with tales of the future as they walked toward Everly Manor this evening. Archie was fascinated by descriptions of machines and computers, and horrified by stories of modern warfare. To think that soldiers no longer fought face to face, but from a distance, killing thousands without ever engaging them man to man. Archie tried to picture a gun that shot dozens of bullets at the same time, one after the other. Or a missile. To shoot a weapon that would detonate countless miles away with exact precision boggled the mind. How was such a thing possible?
Hugo said that people no longer used horses for travel, but rather as a quaint tourist attraction. Tired old horses pulled old-fashioned carriages for the amusement of middle-aged couples and small children around a park, while everyday people traveled in metal capsules propelled by motors that accelerated to impossible speeds. And they’d been to the moon! “Impossible!” Archie groaned as he turned over again, unable to get comfortable. There was a part of him that would like to see all these amazing things for himself, but he couldn’t honestly consider the possibility.
Archie knew himself well enough to realize that the one thing holding him back was fear; not of the unknown, but of the known. He knew one thing for certain — in the future Hugo had described there was no place for someone like him. What would he do? How would he support his family? He had no skills beyond sword-fighting, and Hugo mentioned that swords were obsolete. Men no longer wore weapons at all, except those who enforced the law and those in the military, and they were weapons the likes of which Archie had never seen.
Archie knew how to farm, but to do that, he’d need funds to buy land, livestock, and equipment. He had some money put by, but would that be enough to ensure a livelihood in this strange new world? And Hugo did mention something about the need for identity papers. That had been a big problem when Hugo had gone to the future the last time; he didn’t officially exist. Archie scoffed at the idea. Why would anyone want to be written up that way? A man was entitled to his privacy, and his secrets. He had no wish to be a number, or a name on some government list where someone would know all there was to know about him. He liked his relative anonymity, liked the freedom to choose his own path.
Frances might feel differently though. Hugo had sp
oken of amazing scientific advances, things Archie couldn’t begin to wrap his head around, but he said that modern medicine was miraculous. Frances wanted a child so desperately. Perhaps those future physicians could help her conceive. But that would require funds and identity papers as well. No one would accept two people who might as well have dropped from the moon.
Archie gave up on sleep, and slid quietly out of bed, so as not to disturb Frances. He pulled on his breeches and a shirt, and went downstairs, his bare feet making virtually no sound on the wooden floors. Two candles burned in the dining parlor, one at the head, and one at the foot of the coffin. Hugo sat in the corner, lost in darkness.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked as Archie sat down next to him.
“No, too much on my mind. What about you?”
“Same. I thought I’d keep Max company before his final journey. I can’t help but feel responsible for his death.”
Archie shrugged, although the movement was lost in the dim light of the room. “He made his choices, just as you made yours. Stop blaming yourself for other people’s decisions. You didn’t kill Max any more than you killed your sister.”
“No, I suppose not,” Hugo agreed reluctantly.
Hugo was a born leader, Archie knew that, and as a leader, he tended to imagine himself responsible for the people who came into his sphere, whether he was or not. Hugo likely felt responsible for him as well, but Archie was a grown man. He could take care of himself. He was young and strong, and would have no difficulty finding new employment.
“We’ll be all right, you know,” Archie said. “You needn’t worry about us.”
“I know you will, but I will miss you. In this life, a man should consider himself lucky if he knows one person he can truly trust. I’ve been blessed to have known you and Bradford. I can’t help wondering if I’ll ever meet anyone who will be as genuine or trustworthy.”
“Are you going to tell Master Nash where you’re going?” Archie asked.
“No. I trust Brad with my life, but there’s no need to burden him with this knowledge. Let him believe that I’m dead. It will be easier for him that way. Brad has a life here, a family, and an estate. This is where he was born, and where he will die. Why shatter his view of the world with something he can never really understand?”
“So, why have you told me?”
“You are different, Archie. Your understanding of the world is more fluid. You’ve seen and done more than Brad, and you’ve blood on your hands. Brad is still something of an innocent, who believes in good and evil, God and the Devil. You know there’s much in between, as does Frances. Few men have experienced as much suffering as that girl has. I wanted to give you both a chance at a better life, and a safer future.”
When Archie remained silent, Hugo continued. “Archie, I will explain to you where the passage is and how it works. I know you don’t require the knowledge, but just in case.”
“In case of what?”
Hugo shrugged. They both knew they’d never see each other again.
Chapter 22
I woke at dawn. I felt unusually languid, having enjoyed a night of uninterrupted sleep. My sleep had been fitful and plagued by bad dreams, but last night, I was finally able to rest, safe in the knowledge that Hugo was home. The children were still asleep, their breathing even and deep, but Hugo was already up and fully dressed. He was writing something, but looked up when I softly called his name.
“No one can know I’m here,” he whispered, “least of all the children. I’ll bide in Archie’s room until the children are dressed and at breakfast.”
I nodded. Hugo would fill me in later, but for now, I had to follow his instructions. With Max lying in state downstairs and believed by the servants to be Hugo, explaining his presence would be somewhat difficult. I lay back down as Hugo slipped out of the room. The children would sleep for at least another hour, and then I would take them downstairs and leave them in the care of Frances. In the meantime, I could just savor my contentment.
A few minutes later Valentine sat up, looking about frantically. Her face glowed with expectation, but then her features crumpled as she glared at me with disappointment.
“What is it? Did you have a bad dream?” I asked as I pulled her into a hug. Valentine pushed me away, her eyes full of suspicion.
“Where is he?” she demanded. “Where is Papa?”
“What do you mean?” I asked carefully.
“Papa was here. I know it. I heard his voice, and he kissed me while I slept.”
“Darling, Papa is not here, but Archie is. He’s downstairs having breakfast. He came home last night.”
Valentine shook her head stubbornly. “I know Papa was here. I felt him.”
I glanced away. I hated lying to my daughter, but I couldn’t tell her the truth, not yet. First, I needed to find out what Hugo had planned. Having Valentine or Michael blurt something out could ruin everything.
“Papa will be back soon,” I promised, hoping that no one had mentioned anything about the coffin downstairs in Valentine’s presence. I would have a lot of explaining to do if she were told her father was dead by one of the servants.
“I don’t believe you,” Valentine mumbled petulantly as she slid out of bed. “Wake up, Michael,” she called out.
Michael complied without a word of complaint. He allowed me to help him from the high bed and stood patiently while I dressed him for the day. Valentine liked to dress herself, but still needed help with her stockings and the laces at the back of her gown. She yelped as I brushed out her hair and braided it, pinning it up in a hairstyle much too grown up for a three-year-old. Michael grabbed his horse before I escorted them downstairs. Valentine was still upset, but her face brightened when she saw Archie, who picked her up and tossed her in the air, making her squeal with delight.
“Me too,” Michael whined. “Me too.”
Archie set down a squealing Valentine and scooped up Michael. “Of course, you too. Are you not afraid?”
“No, lift me up high,” Michael demanded, which was surprising because he’d always been afraid. He hooted with joy as Archie tossed him up a few times, nearly making my heart fail when I thought he wouldn’t catch him in time. Frances stood in the doorway of the parlor, her face pale and her eyes filled with sadness. She watched Archie as he played with the children, her hand subconsciously going to her belly. Was it possible that she was pregnant, or just wishful thinking? I knew how much Frances wanted a baby, but I was sure she would have told me if she suspected she was with child. Frances would be too overcome with joy to keep such news to herself. Perhaps her pallor had to do with last night’s incident. I had no doubt that Mark Watson would come back this morning, with reinforcements.
I was about to reassure her that she was safe when Harriet appeared at the foot of the stairs, her arms laden with firewood.
“I just need to go upstairs for a while,” I stammered and ran up the steps to preempt Harriet walking into my bedroom and finding traces of Hugo.
“Come, let’s have some breakfast,” Frances said to the children and led them away.
“Archie, you come too,” Valentine commanded as she grabbed his hand.
“I already had breakfast, but you can persuade me to have another one,” Archie replied as he was dragged along.
**
“What now?” I whispered to Hugo as soon as I returned to our bedroom and locked the door behind me. Hugo had returned to our room safe in the knowledge that the children were downstairs.
“Now, I have a bath,” Hugo said. “I’ll hide in the garderobe, so Ruby doesn’t see me. Just call for some hot water. We’ll talk once I feel human again.”
I waited patiently, trying to appear nonchalant as Ruby brought bucket after bucket of hot water for my bath. Ruby barely made eye contact as she entered the room, shocked as she was by the news of his lordship’s death. No one knew quite what to say, so I just let the matter hang over the house like a miasma. First, I needed to talk to Hugo. T
here were many things to discuss, but as long as he was alive and with me, they could all wait.
I locked the door once again after the final bucket of water was upended into the tub and called to Hugo to come out. He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the tub, sighing with pleasure as the hot water rose above his chest. I soaped a washcloth and began washing him. Normally, he would protest, but this morning he just sat there and let me take care of him. He was preoccupied, which was quite normal under the circumstances. “Hugo,” I called to him softly. “Now what?”
“Hmm?” he mumbled. He’d been lost in thought, his eyes half closed as he leaned back in the copper tub while I soaped his chest and shoulders.
“Neve, I told Archie the truth about where you came from,” he finally said. My hand stopped in midair. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Hugo had never shared my secret with anyone for fear of putting me in terrible danger. I trusted Archie with my life, but never expected Hugo to tell him the truth. Was that why Frances looked so forlorn? Had Archie shared the truth with her last night?
“There is only one reason why you would do that,” I speculated, my voice trembling with emotion.
“How do you feel about going home?” Hugo asked, his eyes now fully open and watching me intently. He was no longer relaxed, but sitting up in the tub, his face tense.
I had suppressed all thought of the twenty-first century over the past few years, concentrating only on the present, but Hugo’s words released something within me, and a flower of hope bloomed in my breast, beautiful and amazing.
“Really?”
“Really. It’s time for us to leave.”
“But Hugo, what of all the things that prevented us from staying there before?” Hugo’s lack of legal identity made life nearly impossible for us. Hugo was even worse off than an illegal immigrant, since those people at least had a valid identity and a verifiable past. Without any kind of identification, Hugo had been unable to work, to receive medical care, or to get married. He had been a pariah, much as he would be now that he was believed to be dead in his own time.
Comes The Dawn (The Wonderland Series: Book 5) Page 11