Stella quickly changed the subject when she saw me choke up with emotion. I never imagined that my children would have a grandmother. Stella wasn’t a blood relative, but her son was, and if she wanted to be a grandmother to my children, I would be more than happy to accept.
“Right, then. So, what’s the long-term plan?” Stella Harding asked, her tone now more businesslike.
This was my first time back since the night we’d returned from the seventeenth century, and it felt odd to be in this house where Max had grown up. Very soon, this place would be our home, but for now, we had to settle for a weekend visit. To suddenly spring a family on the village would fan the flames of gossip, so we had to go slow.
“Simon will take us back to London on Monday morning,” I replied. “It will be difficult for the children to part from Hugo again, but hopefully it won’t be for too long. Now that the village has accepted Max’s return and the media has lost interest, we can introduce Max’s girlfriend and her children into the equation. We’ll come back for another visit in about two weeks, then eventually move into the manor,” I replied.
“And then?” Stella asked, giving me a shrewd look.
“I already have birth certificates for the children listing Maximilian Everly as their father. Hugo and I will eventually get married to legalize our union.”
Stella nodded in approval. “Don’t rush things. That Bobby Knowles is still suspicious. You know, Lady Everly used to quite dislike him. She said he was an irritating child who grew into an even more irritating adult. Always used to get into trouble that boy. Good thing he turned his penchant for nosing around and getting under everyone’s feet into a career.”
“You knew him as a boy?”
“Oh, yes. His mother owns the beauty salon in the village. Bobby and Max used to be thick as thieves when they were children. Then Max went off to Eaton, of course, and Bobby remained at the village school. But, Bobby always felt loyal to Max, and I know he’s been sniffing around until about a week ago.”
“You think he suspects?” I asked, suddenly worried. Bobby Knowles wasn’t just an old friend; he was a Detective Inspector. If anyone could prove that Hugo wasn’t Max, it’d be him. All he had to do was request Max’s medical and dental records, and he’d have the proof he needed.
“I’m sure of it. But he won’t pursue it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Your husband is a clever man,” was all Stella Harding said as she finished her tea and went to check on the pies, which were filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma. “I think I’ll make a nice green salad to go with those. Care to help?”
I rose to my feet and went to get some vegetables from the refrigerator while Stella took out a large bowl. Stella wasn’t my mother, but it felt strangely comforting to be preparing lunch with her in the kitchen. It reminded me of those long-ago days when I used to help my foster mother, Linda. She used to call me her sous chef and make me do all the menial work like cutting vegetables and washing the pots. Afterwards, Linda used to tell my fortune by reading tea leaves. It was a tradition of ours. I wished Linda was still there for me, but Alzheimer’s claimed her mind many years ago, leaving her unable to recognize me. I’d called the nursing home where she spent the last decade of her life only to be told that Linda passed away two years ago.
“We’re hungry,” Simon announced as he poked his head into the kitchen. “How long till lunch?”
“Five minutes,” his mother answered. “Here, take the silverware and set the table in the dining room.”
“I’m too tired,” Simon moaned, sounding suspiciously like Valentine.
Stella gave him a look that could wither flowers and Simon reluctantly complied. “Work, work, work,” he mumbled as he took the silverware and left the kitchen.
**
After lunch, I put the children down for a nap and followed Hugo out into the garden. It was a lovely May afternoon, fragrant with the smell of blooming roses and newly cut grass. The clouds floated lazily above our heads, their fanciful shapes a wooly white against the startling blue of the spring sky. Hugo took my hand and we walked in silence for a few minutes, each lost in our own thoughts. I knew him well enough to see that something was troubling him, and I wondered if that pesky detective had been harassing him.
“Hugo, is everything all right?” I asked, concerned by his silence.
“Yes, sweetheart. All is well,” he replied, almost too brightly.
“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?” I had a fairly good idea, but I needed to hear it from him. Putting aside Hugo’s guilt over Max’s death and his reluctance at having to claim his identity by fraudulent means, I knew my husband well enough to figure out what was bothering him.
Hugo turned to me and smiled ruefully. He’d changed over the past few weeks, going from a seventeenth-century nobleman to a modern-day man. I’d seen him in modern clothes before, but it was still strange for me to reconcile this man who was wearing a hoodie and jeans, to the seventeenth-century lord all dressed up in his finery and wearing a wig, the curls of which fell halfway down his back. Hugo hated wearing wigs, but certain situations had called for full regalia. I had a sudden picture of him as he had been at Versailles, conversing easily with King Louis, the picture of a seventeenth-century courtier.
It wasn’t just the appearance that had changed. There were moments when Hugo seemed more relaxed, as he had been when dancing around with the children only a short while ago, but at other times, he seemed pensive and remote. In the seventeenth-century, Hugo knew his place and accepted his responsibilities. He wore his duties like an old comfortable mantle. There was his family, his estate, his tenants and servants, and his duty to the king. In coming to the future, Hugo shed a lot of those obligations. He no longer had to see to the estate or the tenants, or bend the knee to a monarch. Now, there was the museum with its gift shop and tearoom, and several properties in the village, but the museum was overseen by Mrs. Harding, and the properties looked after by a management company.
At this stage, Hugo’s only responsibility was to us, and he was doing his best to help us transition easily into the future which lay before us, but judging by the lines bracketing his mouth and the pensive expression in his eyes, he wasn’t transitioning quite as easily himself. He ran his hand through his hair. It had grown longer in the past few months, and he hadn’t bothered to cut it. The longer hair and modern clothes made him look trendy, and more like Max.
I smiled up at him as I cupped his cheek. “I like seeing you like this,” I said, pressing my face against his chest as his arms encircled me.
“I miss seeing you all dressed up. Women look so different now,” he replied, his tone wistful.
I was dressed much like Hugo, in a thin sweater, the color of cherry blossoms, a pair of jeans, and tall suede boots. I had enjoyed shopping for clothes these past few weeks, especially since I could see my legs again and wear comfortable undergarments. I’d even ventured out to get a haircut while Simon minded the children. When I first arrived in the seventeenth century, my hair had been shoulder-length, but I let it grow out since it was worn up all the time anyway. I never wore my hair down, not even at bedtime, since it got all tangled without the benefit of conditioner. I usually brushed it out, then plaited it before going to sleep. My hair was halfway down my back, and I felt like Rapunzel when I left it loose about my shoulders. Now I was back to a long bob with some long layers thrown in for texture. I liked the way my hair framed my face and bounced when I walked. I felt lighter and younger.
Hugo pulled me to a bench, and we sat down, looking for all the world like a courting couple. Hugo had his arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder, content to be with him, if only for a few hours. Hugo absentmindedly played with my curls, letting the silky hair slide through his fingers.
“Tell me, Hugo,” I prodded gently. I could tell he needed to talk, but was looking for an opening.
“I could tell you that I feel like a mur
derer and a fraud, but that’s neither here nor there. I know we must move forward. Max is gone, and DI Knowles will no longer be a problem.”
“Oh God, what have you done to him?” I asked with a chuckle.
“He did it all to himself,” Hugo replied cryptically.
“So, why so glum?”
“Neve, I have no idea what to do with myself,” Hugo finally admitted. “All my life I’d had a clear notion of my duties. I had an estate to run, a sister to care for, a king, a country, and political ambitions. Then I had a family to support and protect. And now, I have no clue where I fit in. Most of the estate lands have been sold off over time, so there’s not much that’s required of me. Mrs. Harding enjoys running the museum, and Simon has taken on all financial responsibility and seems to be doing rather well. He’s been explaining his investment ideas to me, but I must admit that a large part of what he said went over my head.”
“You still have us,” I reminded him.
“Of course I do, but I need something to occupy my mind, and my time. I can’t stand not having a purpose.”
I knew this moment would come sooner or later, although I was surprised that it came as soon as it had. But, while I had been dealing with reestablishing my life and acclimating the children to their new surroundings, Hugo had been stuck at Everly Manor learning about Max’s life and trying to look inconspicuous while doing it. I’d actually given this some thought, and had an answer all ready for him. I knew Hugo well enough to understand what he needed, and how to go about it. I hoped he’d like my plan.
“Hugo, at this moment, you have the world at your feet. You have the time and the financial independence to pursue whatever goals you wish. No one says you have to play lord of the manor. The time of noblemen looking after their estates and paying court to a king are over. You can have a career,” I said, watching Hugo for his reaction.
“A career?” he stared at me in surprise, his face transforming before my eyes as the notion began to sink in. “You mean I can work?”
“Yes, why not? Max had planned to stand for Parliament before he disappeared. You’ve always rather enjoyed politics.” For someone who nearly lost his head several times for his convictions, that was the understatement of the year, but I had to start from afar.
“I’ve had my fill of politics,” Hugo replied. “Besides, my well-documented “nervous breakdown” would not help me win any supporters. Perhaps I can do something else.”
“What would you like to do? Have you given it any thought?” Once upon a time, Hugo had remarked that had he been born in the twentieth century, he would have liked to become a doctor, but at nearly forty, he was too old to pursue that dream. However, if he wished, he could do something else in the medical field which didn’t require going to medical school.
Hugo stared off into the distance, a dreamy look on his face. “I have to give this some thought,” Hugo finally said. “What was Max’s field?”
“He had a degree in Political Science.”
Hugo pulled me close again, and I felt his lips brush my temple. “You know me so well,” he whispered in my ear. “My clever little Neve.”
“Have I successfully planted the idea?” I quipped.
“Oh, you have. But first, I need to become computer literate and learn to drive.” I looked up at him and saw the glimmer in his eyes. I’d pointed him in the right direction; he would do the rest. He was already planning the first steps, which was exactly what I’d hoped for.
May 1689
Surrey, England
Chapter 46
The forest was just coming to life, the birds singing their hearts out in tribute to the rising sun, and leaves whispering high above, the brilliant green of new foliage forming a crown overhead. Frances trudged wearily after Archie, putting one foot in front of the other in a desperate effort born of sheer determination. She was tired, hungry, and terribly thirsty. They’d abandoned the stolen boat just after midnight and continued on foot since. By Archie’s estimation, the next shift of guards would have discovered the bodies no later than midday and organized a manhunt for the escaped prisoner. Eventually, someone would connect the missing boat to the fugitive, and the search would spread out, possibly as far as London.
Walking through the night and avoiding main roads was the safest way to get to the Convent of the Sacred Heart. Frances understood that, in theory, but in reality, walking at night was more of a trial than she could have imagined. With no trail to follow, they had to rely on the feeble light of the moon which filtered through the thick canopy of leaves above their heads. The ominous silence of the forest was occasionally disturbed by the hooting of an owl or the breaking of a twig as it snapped off from a branch. A cool wind moved through the trees, moaning like a woman in pain as its frosty breath caressed Frances’s face and made her shiver. The forest floor was a treacherous mass of fallen branches, pine cones, invisible dips and hollows, and scurrying animals. Frances’s feet were not only sore from walking, but raw from stepping on hard pine cones and sharp twigs. The thin soles of her shoes did nothing to cushion her tread, and she felt every step in the sensitive skin of her soles.
Archie held her hand the whole time to keep Frances from losing her balance, but she tripped and nearly fell several times, scratching her hand as she tried to grab on to a low branch for support. With no light to see by, she felt like a blind man stumbling through a hostile terrain with no sense of direction or a visible goal in sight.
“Come, Franny, we are almost there,” Archie urged. He’d offered to carry her part of the way, but he was so thin and wasted after weeks of hunger and forced immobility that Frances couldn’t bear to agree. She could sense that he was exhausted, but he just forged ahead, ignoring his physical needs. They continued on until the barest lightening of the sky indicated the approach of dawn.
“Just give me a moment to rest,” Frances pleaded as she sat down on a fallen log. She still felt nauseous in the mornings, but as soon as the nausea passed, she became ravenously hungry, her body demanding sustenance for her and the baby. Her stomach growled, sensing that it was nearly time for breakfast. Archie sat down next to her and pulled her against him. Frances could feel him trembling with fatigue and hunger. She wished she’d had the presence of mind to stop by the kitchen and grab something edible before they left the inn.
Archie leaned against the trunk of a tree and closed his eyes. His face looked gaunt and waxy in the gray light of dawn, and the copper stubble which usually gave him a golden glow in the mornings underlined the sickly pallor of his skin. The past month had taken a toll on him, and Frances suddenly wondered if Archie would have even made it to trial. The food she’d been able to bring him wasn’t nearly enough to sustain a grown man, especially when she wasn’t even allowed in every day. Archie averaged one meal a day, if that much, and his body had wasted away rapidly. And if not for the kindness of Lowry Gibbs, he would be in an even worse state.
Archie’s breathing became shallow as he fell into a deep sleep. Frances glanced at him guiltily. She still hadn’t told him her news. She wanted to, but the right moment hadn’t presented itself. All his energy was directed toward making their escape and keeping her safe, so the added strain of knowing she was with child would only make things more difficult, since Archie would feel wretched about forcing her to endure physical hardship when she was in such a delicate condition. Frances smiled ruefully when she remembered how Hugo fussed over Neve when she was pregnant and his terror when Neve was in labor with the twins. He hadn’t said a word, but it had all been there in his eyes, the terrible fear that God would take her away from him, as if he had Neve on loan and it was time to give her back.
Dear God, where would she and Archie be by the time this baby was ready to come into the world? Frances wondered. She still had at least six months to go, and a lot could happen in that time. Right now, she couldn’t even think as far as next week. They were taking things day by day, hour by hour. The past month had been one of the worst months
of her life. Surely, things were bound to get better. She refused to consider the alternative. Yes, everything would be all right once they got to the convent.
The forest no longer looked sinister. It was filled with a peachy light which shone through the canopy of leaves and chased away the last of the shadows. Birdsong filled the air, and the wind had died down, leaving behind a lovely freshness scented with pine needles and resin. Frances reached out and tore off a few dew-covered leaves and used them to wipe her face. The cool dew felt good on her skin, and she felt marginally refreshed.
Frances touched Archie’s face gently. “Archie, it’s time to get going.” She might have let him sleep, but she felt vulnerable in the woods now that the sun was up. Archie woke up with a start and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He nodded, smiled, and helped her to her feet. Archie pulled Frances into an embrace, kissing the top of her head.
“I know you’re tired and hungry, love. Just a little bit further and we’ll be at the convent. You’ll have a hot meal and water for washing, and then you can sleep for the rest of the day. Won’t that be nice?” he asked, his voice cajoling. Frances nodded in agreement. Yes, it would be nice, but after they’d eaten and rested, they’d need a plan, and so far Archie had been mum on what he intended to do.
Frances smiled happily when she saw the high wall of the convent finally come into view at mid-morning. The sharpened logs of the wall pierced the morning sky, and several birds were already perched on the wall, singing joyfully. Frances was looking forward to seeing some of the sisters, if not others. Sister Angela, who had been the soul of kindness, and Sister Julia, who was also Archie’s sister and a particular friend while Frances lived at the convent. She didn’t relish a reunion with Mother Superior, who was more than happy to see the back of her when she left with Archie, desperate to accompany Lord Everly and Neve to France.
Comes The Dawn (The Wonderland Series: Book 5) Page 24