by Sy Walker
“The lady does not seem to have any memory of who she is,” Gareth added, the acid in his voice ignored by his mother and his sister who were used to his suspicious ways.
“That is simply terrible,” Gabby said, looking horrified. She gave Jill a look full of such sympathy that it made her feel terrible for lying to them, but she could not think of a way to tell them the truth without sounding mad.
“Yes, my girl. You must stay with us until your memory returns,” the older woman said in a tone that left no question that she meant each word she said.
“I could not impose,” Jill said, hating the thought of putting them out but not entirely sure what she would do if she left their home. They were, after all, the only people in that time that she knew.
“I will not hear of you leaving until you are well and can be restored to your family,” the older woman said, shaking her head and ending all debate on the matter. Though her son, standing behind her, clearly was not in agreement with her decree.
“Yes, you must stay,” the young girl said, looking excited at the possibility of having a new friend under her family’s roof, even if that friend was a bit of a mystery.
“Alright. Would it be terribly rude of me to ask who you all are?” she said, embarrassed to be taking advantage of their kindness without even knowing their names.
“Oh, aren't I a ninny! I am so sorry my dear. This is my daughter gabby. I am Patrice, the dowager Duchess of Kimble and this is my son Gareth. He is the Duke of Kimble,” she said, brushing past their titles as though they were little more than formalities, but they filled Jill with dread. These were powerful people, and that made it more important than ever that she keep her secret from them.
“Thank you all for your kindness,” she remarked as the pounding in her head grew worse.
“Think nothing of it. I will send in a maid to help you get cleaned up and perhaps you can join us for afternoon tea,” the Duchess said with an inviting smile. Jill looked at the window and realized it was still quite early in the day. Perhaps if she rested a bit, she could take tea with them and try to learn all she could about what had happened to her and how she had managed to end up in their time.
“I would like that very much. Thank you,” she said as confidently as she could manage. The smiles on the two women’s faces told her that she had chosen the correct answer, though the Duke was clearly displeased at the thought of her growing closer to his mother and sister.
With that, though, they all left her to rest a bit before tea time. Once she was in the silence of the empty room, she could not help her curiosity. She jumped from the bed and ran to the window. What she saw outside truly took her breath away. There was no denying that she was in Regency era London, the real questions were how and why.
Chapter 3
Once the maid arrived at her room, she was so pleased to be able to take a warm bath and begin to pull herself together. The absolute shock was beginning to wear off and she felt much more like herself by the time the woman returned to help her dress. She brought with her a spare day dress that belonged to the Duchess. It was a lovely shade of light green, and it was finer than even the gowns she wore during her own performances across the country. The maid worked quickly to get her hair pinned up in the fashion on the day. As she watched her work in the mirror, she saw herself truly transform in to a woman of the era and it was a bit terrifying.
While the woman worked, Jill was able to ask her a few questions. The most important information that she gained was the location of the clothing that she had been found in. The Duke had made reference to her being dressed as a lady, but that seemed impossible. Her last memory of her own time had been a moment where she had been wearing simply jeans and a blouse. There was no way that anyone would see a woman dressed like that in this era and assume she was a lady.
Though the maid left only moments before she was expected to go downstairs for tea, she could not help but search for her things. In the wardrobe that the maid had mentioned, she found a plain grey dress that was clearly of the time, torn as though the wearer had had a bad fall. She also found a necklace, which she recognized instantly. It was a silver pendant that had been a gift from her mother when she began her first major tour as a concert pianist. She was so relieved to see it that she could feel tears of relief welling in her eyes. At least she had something to connect her to her own time and her true self. She had lost her mother not long after that tour, and she rarely took the necklace off. It was a part of her identity as much as her own heartbeat. She had just finished clasping it around her neck when she heard a knock at the door and Gabby entered.
“Miss, I am so glad you feel well enough to join us,” Gabby said, clearly so relieved to see Jill dressed and moving about. The young girl clearly had a tender heart and had worried deeply about her wellbeing.
“Thank you. Please call me Jillian. I found it enshrined on the back of my necklace,” she said as she clutched the pendant in her hand. It was not a lie. Her mother had inscribed on the back, “To my Jillian, may your heart always lead you.” She thought it best to have them call her by her full, given name. She was not sure how common a name Jill was in this time and the Duke was already suspicious enough of her.
“Well, that is a wonderful start,” Gabby said warmly as she took her arm and guided her to the solarium where they took their tea. As soon as they arrived in the room, the young girl recounted the tale of Jillian realizing what her name was to her mother and brother with sheer joy and amazement, at which her mother nodded happily and her brother scowled suspiciously.
“Yes, very convenient,” Gareth seethed when his sister had finished her story. His mother and sister ignored him entirely and Jill decided to follow their example.
“Thank you for the lone of the dress,” she said to the duchess, hoping to change the topic of conversation.
“Yours was quite torn from your fall. Can I offer you a cup of tea?” the older woman asked warmly, looking at her quite dotingly as her mother once had when she worried she was ill.
“I would like that very much,” she said with a smile, trying to show the Duchess that she did not need to worry for her health.
“You seem quite well,” the Duke said, more as an accusation than an observation.
“Yes, I feel much better. The ringing in my ears seems to have quieted,” she replied, choosing to respond to his words rather than the tone in which he said them.
“Lucky for you,” he growled, looking as though he would like nothing more than to throw her out on the street.
“Do not behave like a petulant child Gareth,” his mother warned. The steely tone of her words made Jill wary, but he seemed not to be bothered at all by his mother’s warning.
“Yes brother, do behave,” Gabby said with the kind of sigh that can only be managed by younger sisters who are quite annoyed with their older brothers.
“You know I am incapable of behaving in polite society,” he said, though his tone did seem to lighten and there was a glint in his eye that made him even more handsome than he had initially appeared.
“Yes, perhaps it is a blessing that you hide yourself away like a hermit,” his sister remarked, earning herself a deep, warm chuckle from him. Clearly, he was a very doting brother.
“If you cannot make polite conversation, why don't we move to the music room? We can take our tea and you can fiddle with your new piano,” his mother offered, unwilling to allow his attitude to ruin her afternoon.
“I do not fiddle with my piano. I am a serious musician, not one to play at your command to entertain you,” he said broodingly.
“Would you rather stay here and talk?” the Duchess asked with a calculating expression on her face.
“Let's move to the music room,” he said, rising immediately and leading the way.
The servants, who had been close at hand, gathered everything and relocated it as quickly as possible. Jill walked slowly with Gabby, worried that she might get dizzy again if she rushed.
“You look as though you have seen a ghost my girl,” the Duchess said as she gripped her elbow to steady her.
“No, it just a very lovely piano you have my lady,” she answered, trying to keep her composure. The presence of the piano could not be a coincidence. It had to have something to do with her being hurdled through time. Maybe if she could figure it out, she could find her way home.
“Oh it is not mine. It belongs to Gareth and Gareth alone. Play something my boy,” his mother said as she and Jill settled in to a nearby sofa. Gabby took a seat in the chair directly beside the piano. Cleary, the three of them often sat together in the room because each seemed to have their own position.
“Very well mother,” he said, sitting down at the piano. He needed no further invitation. He laid his fingers on the keys and began to play some of the most beautiful music that she had ever heard. Technically, his playing was absolutely flawless, but each song he began was sadder and more mournful than the last. She watched his face as he played portray something that truly broke her heart; he played with sadness. She could feel tears welling again as she thought of how terrible it must be for him to have such a skill, and yet draw no happiness from the music that so clearly meant so much to him.
“Music moves you, does it not girl,” his mother asked her, her eyes locked on her face as she studied Jill’s reaction to her son’s playing.
“Yes, it does,” Jill admitted as she brushed a stray tear from her cheek.
“Gabby, we must go and talk to cook about supper,” the Duchess said as she rose abruptly the moment her son finished the piece he was playing.
“Do I have to?” the younger girl complained, clearly more eager to stay with her brother and Jill than to deal with such dull tasks.
“How else will you learn to run a household. Jillian, you should go and rest,” the older woman ordered before leading her daughter from the room.
As soon as Patrice and Gabby left the room, Jill rose to do just that. Gareth, though, had something else in mind. He moved to block her path, his eyes locked on her.
“You clearly know music, whoever it is you are. I doubt most drifters do. An interesting skill. What do you think of my playing?” he asked, clearly thinking that she was about to gush over his playing in an attempt to ingratiate herself to him. That, though, was the last thing that she planned to do. She had been thinking hard on how best to convince him that she was not a liar. The only way, she knew, was to be absolutely truthful about everything that she could and that needed to begin in that moment.
“You play beautifully, but there is no joy in your music or on your face when you play. It's enough to break a person's heart,” she said as she brushed past him and made her way to her room. Had she looked back, she would have seen him staring after her in disbelief. His station in life and his notorious temper kept most people from being so blunt with him. It was in that moment that he realized that this stranger, whoever she was, might not be a con artist at all. If that was the case though, who on earth was she?
Chapter 4
The next morning, Jill arose and made her way downstairs. To her surprise, the Duchess and Gabby were nowhere to be found. It was then that it dawned on her that it was much later in the morning that she had realized when she awoke.
As she entered the parlor, she sensed immediately that she was not alone. She turned to see Gareth studying her intently from his high back chair in the corner of the room. It was the first time that she had seen him since she left the music room the afternoon before. He had not joined them for dinner, instead meeting a business associate at his club.
“Good morning,” he finally said, rising to greet her.
“Hello. Where are your mother and sister?” she asked, not thrilled to be alone with him after what she had said to him the afternoon before. It had been the truth, of course, but still she was sure that he was not happy with her.
“They had to run to the store. They were insistent that you be allowed to sleep as late as you needed,” he said, looking as though he was quite use to them finding any reason to go shopping.
“They are very kind,” she said, grateful that they had let her rest. She was still quite worn out from the ordeal she had been through, though she did feel refreshed when she awoke.
“Yes, they are. I will not allow you to take advantage of them,” he said. His voice lacked the anger that he had the day before, though she did not question that he meant what he said.
“I have no intention of doing that. I just do not have anywhere else to go. The second I do, I will be gone. I assure you of that,” she said, continuing her resolve to only speak the truth to him when it was possible. The moment she had a way home, she would be gone; of that, she was certain.
“So it was purely coincidental that you happened to be lying unconscious on one of the wealthiest streets in all of London?” he asked. His anger from the day before seemed to have been replaced with curiosity and she suspected that it could be more dangerous to her.
“It was no doing of mine,” she replied, keeping her guard up.
“And you still claim to have no memory of who you are?” he asked, watching her intently as he spoke.
“My life could not be further away from me,” she said. It was not a direct answer, of course, but it was an honest one.
“Yet you remember music?” he continued, trying to break through the wall that she had so clearly put up.
“One does not lose music. It is a part of the soul, no matter what happens to the mind or the body,” she replied, unable to keep her passion from shining through as she spoke. She knew from the expression on his face that she had given something away in her answer.
“You play,” he said. It was not a question. It was an observation from one musician to another.
“Yes,” she answered. Even if she had been willing to lie to him, her soul would not allow her to deny it.
“Well?” he asked, looking as though he doubted it was possible for a woman to play as well as he did.
“Yes,” she said, unwilling to hide her talent from him.
“You said I play with no joy,” he reminded her, still watching her closely.
“There is no joy when you play. It is such a waste. You have a great talent,” she said, repeating her sentiment from the day before.
“Play for me,” he ordered with the authority of a Duke. Clearly, he was not used to speaking to someone in a casual way, especially a woman.
“Now?” she asked, a little surprised that he had any interest at all in her music.
“What better time. Perhaps it will bring back your memory,” he replied, a smirk on his face as he spoke.
“Alright then,” she said, accepting his challenge. She turned on her heals and made her way to the music room. She did not look back, but she could hear his footsteps behind her. When she reached the room, she took her seat at the piano immediately. He sat in the chair that Gabby had occupied the day before.
His eyes were locked on her fingers as she began to play, but she did not notice at all. The second that she touched the keys, she was lost to everything around her. She made no effort to select a piece of music from his vast library of it. Her favorite thing to do when she was in an odd place emotionally was to simply play what came to her. It was the way that she usually worked through difficult times in her life, and she could not think of a time where it was more necessary than in her current predicament.
Jill gave herself over to the music entirely. She felt every note with her whole being, allowing
every emotion inside of her to flow through her fingers into the notes that rang through the air. The song began timid, yet frantic as she had felt when she awoke. Then, though, a calm and confidence rang through. Her eyes were closed and she played with her heart and her soul. When she finished, she was hesitant to open her eyes. The joy of playing was still reverberating through her, and she did not want to face his judgement.
Slowly, though, she knew that she needed to return to reality. When she did finally look at Gareth, his eyes were locked on her. Within them, there was a look of sheer wonder and amazement that took her breath away. She could not remember a moment in her life when a man had looked at her in such a way. There was an electricity between them that reminded her very much of the spark that she felt when she played.
“You play very well,” he said when he finally spoke.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile of pride. From a fellow musician, it was a high compliment. She could not help but enjoy admiration from him after the animosity he had shown in their previous encounters.