“He’s grown so much,” Frances replied. “Neve has pictures on her telephone. Oh, Archie, can we get one? I want pictures of our baby too.”
“Yes, of course, as soon as we have ourselves sorted, however long that takes,” he added, unsure of what was going to happen.
“I’m going to take you to London. You’ll stay at Simon’s flat tonight, and then he’ll find a place for you to stay since we’re afraid the police might come looking for you.”
“What about work?” Archie asked, his voice tense. “How will I be able to support us?”
“Don’t worry, Archie. Everything will work out in time. For now, you just have to give yourself time to heal and acclimate to this life. Hugo and I will see to the rest.”
“Thank you, your ladyship,” Archie said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’d have died without your help.”
I smiled to myself as we drove away. I hated seeing Archie hurt, but in some perverse way, I was glad things worked out as they did, since it brought us all together again. I wasn’t sure exactly what would happen, but I had no doubt that, in time, everything would turn out okay. Archie and Frances weren’t on their own the way Hugo and I were when I brought him over. They had us, and Simon, and I’d involve Glen Coolidge again if I had to.
“Good God, what is this place?” Frances breathed as she pressed her face to the window and stared at the bright lights of London, her eyes huge with wonder, her hand clutching Archie’s.
“Wonderland,” was all I said with a smile. “Welcome home, Alice.”
Christmas Eve, 2015
Kingston, Surrey
Chapter 66
Archie let himself quietly out of the room and walked on silent feet down the dimly-lit corridor. It was decorated with tinsel and pretty ornaments for Christmas, and a fake tree stood in pride of place by the nurses’ station, several wrapped parcels with colorful bows carefully arranged underneath. Christmas music played softly, so as not to disturb the patients, its joyful tones needed to lift the spirits of those who couldn’t be with their families tonight and had to remain on duty. A young nurse smiled at Archie and asked if he needed anything, but he shook his head.
“I’m all right, love,” he replied.
“Can’t stay away, can you?” she asked with a knowing smile and went back to whatever she was doing.
Archie walked over to the nursery and looked through the Plexiglas window. There were about five newborns sleeping peacefully in their tiny cots, a night nurse feeding one of the babies as she crooned to it soothingly. Archie’s eyes swept over the cots, stopping at the one where a baby with an orange halo slept wrapped in a pink blanket. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he felt lightheaded and sucked in some air. She was so perfect, his little girl, so precious. She came a week late, but had been so worth the wait.
Hugo had generously arranged a place in this private maternity hospital, making sure that no one would ask any prying questions or inform the police that they were illegals. Archie had been terrified of the birth, but it had been fairly quick and although not painless, very routine according to the obstetrician. Mother and child sailed through and were now resting after their ordeal.
Archie was startled when the night nurse tapped him on the shoulder. She was an older woman who looked at him with motherly kindness. “Would you like to hold her?” she asked.
“May I?”
“Of course. Come in and sit in that comfortable chair. I’ll bring the baby over. Have you got a name picked out yet?” she asked as she placed the pink bundle in Archie’s arms and made sure that he supported the head.
“No, but I know what I’d like to call her. I’m sure my wife will not object.”
The nurse nodded and went back to her own chair, all the while keeping an eye on Archie and the baby. Archie gazed into the little round face, wishing that his daughter would wake up and look at him, but she continued sleeping, her mouth pursed as if she were displeased at being disturbed. Archie bent down and kissed her fuzzy head. The skin felt like velvet, the hair like corn silk beneath his lips. He caught the nurse smiling at him and smiled back. She had no idea what this meant to him. He wasn’t just any new father marveling at his baby. He was a man who had no right to exist, a man who should have died hundreds of years ago, probably on the night that Frances dragged him into the future.
The past few months had been the best and worst of his life. He alternated daily between amazement, wonder, joy, frustration, fear, and self-pity. This world wasn’t for the faint of heart, or light of brain. What came so easily to children was a challenge for Archie, and he spent hours walking around London just to diffuse some of his frustration at not being able to grasp the simplest of ideas. He felt like a newborn who’d come into the world knowing nothing. He had to relearn everything, and unlearn those things which held him back. For the first few weeks, the world was a frightening, spinning vortex of color, sound, and motion. There were times when he felt physically ill from all the activity around him, but gradually the effects began to decrease.
Under the careful tutelage of Simon, Archie learned to use the phone, the computer, and even to drive a car, although he couldn’t drive one legally without a license. Simon seemed to get real pleasure from showing Archie around and teaching him as if he were a child. He was a kindhearted soul, Simon, and Archie’s first twenty-first-century friend. Simon enjoyed taking him out to the pub for a “boys’ night out” and explaining to him the intricacies of football and other strange modern sports. Archie didn’t really enjoy watching grown men chasing after one ball, but kept his opinion to himself and basked in the camaraderie he felt with Simon and some of his mates who accepted Archie as one of their own.
Frances went through an adjustment of her own, although hers seemed to be easier that Archie’s. She took to modern life like a fish to water and was watching birthing videos on YouTube and dancing to Lady Gaga before Archie even knew how to turn on the machine. She was always researching things, her face alight when she learned something she deemed important and worth sharing with him. Frances was suddenly filled with purpose and curiosity, her world having transformed overnight. Truth be told, Archie felt a bit resentful and off-kilter at first, but seeing the change in Frances made him happy. She went from being a cocoon to finally changing into a butterfly, and her colors were more brilliant than he could have ever imagined.
Archie gasped with surprise when the baby wrapped her little hand around his finger. Her eyes were open now, and she was studying him with an intensity which was almost disconcerting in a newborn.
“Hello, Julia,” Archie whispered as his vision blurred with happy tears. His daughter would have the best this world had to offer; he would make sure of that.
Epilogue
September 2016
Surrey, England
I tried to hide my smile as the chaos washed over me. Hugo was dashing from room to room in search of his briefcase, which Valentine had most likely absconded with since she coveted his laptop with a passion bordering on obsession. Michael had just knocked over his bowl of cereal and was howling with frustration. Valentine and Mrs. Harding were in the middle of an intense discussion about what color tights would best go with Val’s outfit. Frances was nursing Julia while eating a piece of toast as Archie expertly flipped an omelet onto a plate and set it in front of his wife.
“Anyone else? I’m taking orders,” he announced.
“I’ll have one,” I replied. I was always hungry these days. “Mushrooms and cheese, please.”
“Coming right up.”
“Valentine!” came a roar from the corridor. “Where in the name of God is my briefcase? I have a class in forty-five minutes.”
“Valentine, stop torturing your father,” I admonished her.
“I only wanted to play a game,” she pouted, having decided on white tights with pink flowers. “It’s under my bed.”
“Under Val’s bed, Hugo,” I called out, biting my lip in order to ke
ep myself from laughing. I heard Hugo pounding up the stairs. He appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, dressed for work with his briefcase in his hands. “Are you ready, Princess of Evil?” he demanded. Valentine gave him a look of disdain. “I’m ready, Papa. Bye, Michael,” she added spitefully, knowing that Michael would cry all the harder if he thought he was being left behind. I helped Michael out of his chair and wiped his face before planting a kiss on his nose.
I walked them to the car and strapped the children into their car seats. Hugo would drop them off at nursery school on his way to work. This was his first semester teaching history at a prestigious school for boys located near Guilford. He was teaching a course on the seventeenth century, and no doubt bringing the past to life. Hugo maneuvered the car out of the driveway and disappeared through the gates, taking the chaos with him.
I waited on the steps as Frances and Archie came out with Julia. Frances reluctantly handed me the baby, whose halo of tangerine curls remained untamed despite Frances’s best efforts. At nearly nine-months-old, Julia had four teeth which she displayed while smiling, and was the sweetest baby in the world. Her round blue eyes regarded me calmly as I settled her on my hip.
“Off you go,” I said to Frances. “Wave goodbye to Mum and Dad, sweetheart.”
Julia obediently waved, which was the only instruction she could follow on demand, but we were working on that. Frances turned back for one last kiss before finally tearing herself away and walking off hand in hand with Archie. She wore a pair of jeans, high-heeled suede boots, and a short leather jacket the color of ripe cherries. Her beautiful hair was artfully arranged in a bun on top of her head, and her make-up was skillfully done. Even in heels, Archie still towered over her, his physique back to what it used to be before his ordeal. He ran a hand through his cropped hair. He’d cut it a few months ago and it suited him. It made him look more modern. Archie was dressed casually in old jeans, leather boots, and a denim jacket.
Hugo and I always joked that Archie and Frances had a long commute to work. They walked briskly in the direction of the manor house museum, Frances toward the front door and Archie toward the stables. A large coach full of tourists was already pulling in through the gates and Frances took her place by the door, a brilliant smile on her face.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Everly Manor Museum, the home of the notorious seventeenth-century double-agent, Lord Hugo Everly. Today you will see the place where he lived and plotted, first with the Duke of Monmouth and then with the king of France until his death under mysterious circumstances in 1689.
After the tour, we invite you to stop for a cup of tea at our rustic tearoom and perhaps browse for some souvenirs. Please feel free to explore the lovely gardens, or go for a ride. The stables are open. You can enjoy a ride down the scenic lane where the wicked lord himself was often seen galloping on his Arabian stallion. Please see Archie if you’re interested in hiring a horse. Now, let’s get your tickets sorted and begin our fascinating tour.”
I shook my head in wonder as I hoisted Julia higher on my hip. “Shall we go visit Elena, my love?” I asked as I turned my steps toward the church. I didn’t go every day anymore, and once the new baby arrived in six months I’d have a lot less time, but I still went at least once a week and spent a few minutes telling Elena all our happenings. Julia enjoyed the walk, and we often went into the church after visiting Elena to look at the funny little gargoyle carved into the pillar of the church, said to have been Lewis Carroll’s inspiration for the Cheshire Cat. She always reached out and touched it, gazing at it with all the seriousness a nine-month-old could muster.
I stood in front of Elena’s grave, Julia in my arms. I’d had a lot to tell her this past year. It had been a whirl. Hugo had finally found his calling in teaching, and I had a sneaking suspicion that in a few years he’d be setting his sights on a seat in Parliament. His disappearance was ancient history now, and his need to meddle in politics was still there, his sense of justice as strong as ever. The children were happy and well-adjusted, enjoying their time at nursery school. Neither one ever mentioned anything about the past, believing it to have been nothing but a dream.
Archie and Frances were still not strictly legal, but since their daughter was born in England and was a British citizen by birth, we’d begun legal proceedings that would give them legal status in this country. Hugo had found a solicitor who had experience in dealing with refugees and illegal aliens, and gave him a real cock-and-bull story about the origins of the Hickses, so we were sure that in time, Archie and Frances would finally get what they longed for. We’d offered them the hunting lodge, but they politely refused and chose instead to live with us. I had to admit that I was as happy as Hugo with their decision. The house had too many empty rooms before, but now it rang with the laughter of children and was always bustling with activity. Even Mrs. Harding seemed happier these days despite missing Simon, who’d gone off to New York with Heather. His groveling finally earned him a second chance, and I was happy to see him wasting no time in starting out on his new life.
Bringing Archie back to Cranleigh after last year’s case was a bit of a risk, but to our utter surprise, DI Knowles accepted a job in Brighton and moved there with his family. There was some talk of an affair with a coworker and a threat of divorce by his wife, but I never gave credence to such talk. The DI who’d taken over the case had also been transferred due to the embarrassment Archie’s disappearance and lack of progress on the case caused the constabulary. So, for the time being, all was quiet.
I set Julia on a small blanket beside the gravestone while I weeded the plot and chatted to Elena. I still missed her dreadfully, but on some subconscious level, I had finally accepted her passing and let her go. It was too early to know the sex of the new baby, but I hoped it would be a girl. Perhaps it would be ghoulish to call her Elena, but that’s what we would do to honor our baby. She wouldn’t be a replacement, but a tribute to a life cut short. And if it were a boy, we’d call him Jeremy, for Jem. I’d scoured the internet, but never found anything about Jeremiah Marsden. Perhaps that was a good thing and meant that he’d lived an ordinary life, as did the Nashes whose graves showed that they’d lived to see old age, as did their children.
I glanced at the church porch as someone walked out of the church. The passage was sealed up for good, at least on this side. There would be no more trips to the past, at least not for us. Our life was here now.
I scooped up Julia and gave her a kiss. “Want to see the gargoyle, darling?” I asked. Suddenly, a poem from Alice Through the Looking Glass came to mind and I recited it to Julia as we walked toward the church.
When the day becomes the night,
And the sky becomes the sea,
When the clock strikes heavy
And there’s no time for tea,
And in our darkest hour before our final rhyme,
She will come home to Wonderland
And turn the hands of time.
May 1691
Essex, England
Jem looked around his room one last time before picking up the bundle of clothes he’d packed and heading out the door. The house was silent, his beastly baby brother and newborn sister sound asleep. Jem wondered if he should leave a note for his father. He supposed it was the right thing to do, and headed into his father’s study to pen a quick farewell. He’d never felt at home in this house, and he never would, and now that he was nearly sixteen there was no reason to remain. Jem caressed the coins in his pocket. He had enough money to live on for a good while if he were frugal, and then perhaps he’d join the king’s army. Better to die honorably on some foreign battlefield than to expire of boredom on this remote estate.
Jem left the note where his father could see it and slipped from the house into the darkness, walking briskly toward the stables. He’d take his horse; his father owed him that much. Jem saddled the animal and vaulted into the saddle, eager to get going. Perhaps he’d stop by Cranley first. He kne
w that Lady Everly and the children were long gone. The accursed Clarence Hiddleston hadn’t wasted any time in taking over the estate. He now lived at Everly Manor, lording it over the servants and tenants much as Hugo’s father had done before his death. Jem had it from his father that Clarence had recently married, and his new wife was a young lady of both beauty and breeding, if of slightly impoverished circumstances. Not many fathers would allow their daughters to marry into a family where both the bridegroom’s mother and uncle committed suicide, but Clarence’s sound financial position and newly-acquired title swayed this particular patriarch into overlooking the shame on the family name in exchange for a comfortable and secure life for his daughter. Jem wished them well, as he knew Hugo would if he were still around.
Jem sighed as he reconsidered his plan to visit Cranley. There was no point really, especially since Archie and Frances weren’t there. No one knew what happened to them after they fled Guilford, but Jem was sure they’d left England for good. They would never be safe again if they remained, and with their knowledge of French, they could easily settle in Paris where opportunities for someone with Archie’s skills would be plentiful. Jem wished he could find them, as well as Lord and Lady Everly. He’d done it all for them, but it all went wrong anyway. Killing Liza had done nothing but taint his soul, and he would have to live with the unforgivable sin of taking a life for the rest of his days.
Jem dug his heels into the flanks of the horse, urging it into a gallop. He was speeding toward an unknown future, but he would not allow one act of evil to destroy his life. He would do whatever it took to make Hugo Everly proud and live a life full of meaning and purpose. Who knew? Perhaps one day they’d meet again.
Jem smiled as he felt the cool spring wind caress his face. A distant star winked at him as he gazed up at the night sky. Jem suddenly felt lighter, his heart no longer as heavy as it had been since the day he’d strangled Liza on that lonely road. He was nearly sixteen— a man in his own right, and he was finally free to choose his own path unhindered by the expectations and mistakes of others. Tomorrow was the first day of the rest of his life, and it would be glorious.
Comes The Dawn (The Wonderland Series: Book 5) Page 35