An Untimely Romance: A Time Travel Romance

by Wells, J

  Heather could hardly wait for the maids to leave. She had been so engrossed in Frank’s conversation over dinner she’d only managed to savour small amounts of the delights on offer, and so now tucked in heartily to the hard-boiled eggs and cold ham. The corn muffins to follow were not something she had tried before, but she found them delicious. Meanwhile, Florence just picked at the fresh bread, smearing it with honey. Afterwards, they sat drinking hot tea, getting more acquainted with one another.

  “I was not too engrossed by my Mr Cox to notice the attention showered on you by my brother over dinner last night. Is he not the most handsome of gentlemen you have ever been fortunate enough to lay eyes on?” Florence jabbered.

  “If you like tall, dark and handsome, with a muscular physique, then yes, Mr Boswel would be very hard to beat; he is quite fit, I guess.”

  Heather’s thoughts turned to her good-looking blonde boyfriend waiting for her at home.

  “My dear brother is such a gay man, and so very kind,” Florence continued, singing his praises.

  Every time Heather thought of Frank she was overwhelmed inside by a longing, a need to be close to him. But how could she possibly have such feelings for Frank here, when back in her own time she almost detested the man? Everything about him aggravated her, and his peculiarities disguised any good qualities that he may have. But meeting him in his own time, she felt very different. His look was so handsome, the way he carried himself, his address of her, how he managed to hold her gaze so that she found it almost impossible to look away. The intensity of these emotions scared Heather greatly and left her feeling at a complete loss, out of control. They were very similar, no, stronger, far stronger than any feelings she’d ever felt for Ruben. God, what’s happening to me? I’m losing my own sense of reality. How can I be in love with someone who doesn’t exist? Even if it were possible somehow, my purpose here is for Anna, and Anna alone.

  “Do you think it’s serious between ya brother and Miss Thornber?”

  “As far as my aunt is concerned, she has been a regular visitor here over the summer. There is much wealth in Miss Thornber’s family estate; therefore, it would be a very fortunate alliance.”

  “So you’re telling me he intends to marry her?”

  “There is no guarantee of such a marriage taking place; I’m aggrieved to say that my brother’s heart is somewhat of a fickle nature. Previously severing more than one engagement, both times to very affable ladies, has been somewhat testing for my aunt’s delicate constitution. I swear, some days she did not even venture from her bedchamber.”

  Heather couldn’t help but smile to herself, unable to believe Florence’s analysis of Lady Haunchwood’s character. In her opinion, she was a sharp-tongued, tough old bird. With my connections, if I were to make a play for Frank it’d be sure to finish her dear aunt off. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea... she thought.

  “Why, Heather, if I’m not very much mistaken you are blushing. Is it possible that you yourself have designs on my brother?”

  Heather stood and poured them both another cup of tea. Although it was now cooler than one would have liked, it was a good enough distraction for her to regain her composure.

  “Maybe, but that would be telling,” she teased.

  “Then you would be my sister, my real sister.” Florence could hardly contain herself, grabbing Heather’s hands and jumping up and down, before flopping back onto the chair quite out of breath.

  “Yes, but we both know that can never happen. With my amnesia, and lack of connections, in your aunt’s eyes I’m not worthy, and could never be good enough.” Heather sighed. “Shame though, it would have been lovely having you as a sister.”

  “Well, it really does not matter,” Florence piped up. She must have sensed Heather’s disappointment. Smiling, she continued. “We can pretend, can we not?”

  The morning for Heather was spent in idle conversation, leading to a growing fondness for Florence and a better understanding of Frank, with which came the realisation of the strength of her feelings for him. They sat for a while, before Florence, fidgeting rather, took to standing by the sash window.

  “Heather, look, we must be picnicking this afternoon. The maids, they are carrying food into the gardens, oh, and bottles of champagne. I do hope I am allowed a glass.”

  “How do ya know it’s champagne?” Heather enquired, trying to see.

  “It’s a well-known tradition; wet newspapers keep even the most expensive of champagne cool. Oh, I do hope they seat us in the shade; it’s so very tiring trying to hold a parasol and eat at the same time, and my delicate complexion could not possibly take the sun, well, not for very long, of that I am certain.”

  “Oh yes, me too,” Heather said, quite forgetting herself and her roots.

  Peculiar ways though they might be, she was losing herself in the niceties and the friendly camaraderie growing between her and Florence, especially as she’d led such a sheltered and solitary life since her move to the manor.

  She could feel the exhilaration exuding from Florence as they entered the gardens.

  “Heather, listen, I’m sure I can hear them, they cannot be far.”

  The flowerbeds in full bloom, the air was filled with the sweetest of scents, and the shrill serenade of birds singing in many a different key met their ears.

  “Look, they are over there,” Florence announced, clapping her hands.

  She had an air about her, and whatever the occasion she seemed to be in the highest of spirits.

  A party of about ten were gathered under the shade of the large weeping willow, its long branches overhanging the lake. The ladies were all seated on an ample-sized open blanket, while the men stood chatting and tending to their needs, passing them food and refilling glasses.

  “Heather, come, let me introduce you.”

  Heather followed a step or two behind Florence, who skipped across the lawn in eagerness. The aunt’s disapproving eyes immediately met Heather as she sat down.

  “Miss Richardson, I had no idea that you intended on joining our party.”

  “Yes, Lady Haunchwood. Florence ... I mean Miss Boswel invited me,” she answered sheepishly.

  “Well, girl, now you are here, you had better eat with us.”

  Her words were off-hand and forced, and Heather could feel the condescending looks from the other women as the unfriendly tone taken by Lady Haunchwood instantly made her an outcast. She felt Frank’s eyes burning into hers as he stood next to Miss Thornber, who almost purred at his side. Though he never attempted to address Heather, his eyes were sympathetic, though his gaze was not held for long after receiving a sharp dagger-like stare from the old lady, who clearly couldn’t help herself.

  “Mr Boswel, is it true what I am informed by Mr Bellingham, that you intend to accompany Miss Thornber on her return to Hampshire?”

  “You are informed correctly, Aunt. I may even extend my visit, if Miss Thornber is in agreement.”

  Heather’s heart sank; she was too late, the chemistry in their eyes could not be mistaken.

  “Champagne, Mr Boswel,” Miss Thornber swooned in anticipation.

  Heather watched her expression as he filled her glass, and then passed her a small bunch of grapes from the fruit bowl.

  “Brother, I anticipate your return to be in time for the masquerade. You know how I look forward to these occasions, and we have never held a masquerade at the manor before.”

  Florence couldn’t contain her excitement.

  “Of course, dear sister. Indeed I shall try my best, though I fear I can make no promises.”

  It was the first time Heather had witnessed a solemnness about her friend.

  “Florence, shall we take a walk down by the lake?” Heather asked, trying her best to speak as politely as possible.

  “Aunt, could I possibly take a slice of bread to feed the ducks?”

  Lady Haunchwood hardly lifted from her conversation to respond. They sauntered down to the lake, arm in arm, the warm br
eeze a pleasant interruption to the sun and drab company.

  “I don’t think your aunt likes me,” Heather said.

  “I am sure you are mistaken. Her manner may be short, though I am sure she means well.”

  The sun’s rays beat down, and the water looked so cool and inviting.

  “Florence, take your shoes and stockings off.”

  “I dare not undress in public.”

  “You’re not in public, it’s just us; no one will see,” Heather said as she sat on the bank, barefoot. “Come on, ya don’t know what you’re missing.”

  She rolled up her dress and dipped her feet. Cool reeds intertwined around her toes as they met with the water, and she leant back on her arms. She made pictures out of the clouds and then closed her eyes, only to be met by daydreams. Quite expecting Florence to join her, she unconsciously opened one eye, but Florence must have thought better of it, perhaps finding the heat too much, as she now lay shaded under a nearby tree’s knotted bows, their leaves forming a perfect canopy.

  “I fear the ducks may not get their bread this afternoon.”

  Now fully awake, she stared up into Frank’s eyes.

  “I think my sister may have fallen asleep,” he said.

  “I’m surprised you were able to drag yourself away from Miss Thornber.”

  “I am sure that she is far too merry to miss me, and I have been gone for but a moment.”

  Moving her feet in circular movements and muddying the clear waters, Heather said mischievously, “Do you think she’d like you now, your pretty Miss Perfect?” as she kicked up her feet, laughing as a shower of muddy droplets rose into the air.

  Frank smiled. He didn’t seem to have taken offence. His head tilted slightly, and Heather hoped the soft-eyed stare thrown her way was one of intrigue due to her looks and spontaneity. They sat, side by side, like two dirty-faced urchins.

  “Don’t you look a picture,” she said cheekily, leaning towards him, smearing the drying mud across his damp cheeks. “Come here, I’ve missed a bit.”

  But as she leant forward for the second time, it wasn’t her fingers that met with his face, but her lips meeting his own. His fingertips loosened her hair, so that the soft curls drifted against her shoulders before being picked up by the breeze and settling down her back. He held her head gently between his hands and kissed every inch of her face; her eyelids, her cheeks, and then their lips met once more.

  “I fear I shall be missed and must return, but I cannot possibly,” he said, looking down.

  He took her hand in his and walked into the cool waters, where they stood waist deep.

  “I shall say you slipped and I came in after you. Any gentleman would have taken it upon himself to do the same given the circumstances.”

  Gorgeous, she thought. The wet look he wore was so sexy and appealing. She felt his arms strong around her, lifting her up. She was hit by a pang of emotion and fought back the tears at the very thought of him returning to her. Heather’s dress was almost see-through, and she shivered in her cold second skin, Frank’s also providing no warmth. She placed her face next to his, feeling so comfortable, though she joked that he should remove his sideburns as they were an irritation against her cheek. Their attention then turned to Florence, who still lay sleeping peacefully.

  “Sister, come immediately!” he hollered.

  Florence roused herself, seemingly alarmed by his cries.

  “Inform our aunt at once that there has been an unfortunate incident. Miss Richardson lost her footing and slipped into the lake; it was most fortunate that I happened to be passing at the exact time,” he continued.

  “Right away, brother,” Florence replied, jumping to her feet, and scampered off in the direction of the picnickers.

  Heather was relieved on reaching the house, with maids and servants scurrying in every direction, passing them on the stairs. Old candles were replaced with new and floors were being scrubbed with gusto, presumable in preparation for the ball. She could scarcely wait to get out of her wet clothing, she felt so uncomfortable. Frank carried her all the way to her room, and then tenderly lay her on the bed.

  Losing herself in his eyes, she murmured, “Please, Mr Boswel, don’t go. Stay a while, lie with me.”

  “If only that were possible,” he said, sitting beside her. “If we were discovered, your good name and your reputation would both be wounded severely.”

  He looked handsomer than ever, his damp hair falling softly over his face, the outline of his rippling muscles prominent through his wet shirt. He held her hand briefly, and she felt his grip loosen as he turned to leave her.

  “Goodbye, Frankie,” she whispered.

  She lay in bed feeling disheartened for the remainder of the afternoon, Mr Boswel’s presence imprinted on every beat of her heart. The last thing she wanted was to bump into Frank with Miss Thornber, and she certainly couldn’t cope with Lady Haunchwood’s manner, so she thought her safest bet was to stay out of sight. She was unable to understand why she felt no guilt for her growing feelings for Frank, and was beginning to wonder if she ever did get back home, whether her and Ruben would stand a chance of a future together, or would he only ever be second best, permanently walking in Frank’s shadow?

  “Heather, are you quite well?” Florence’s familiar voice entered the room. “I so hope you are able to attend the ball this evening; it will be simply ages till the next.”

  Heather looked out from beneath the covers, only imagining the ridicule of Lady Haunchwood.

  “I’ll see how I feel later, but I’m fine; just feel a bit daft though, falling into the lake.”

  “Yes, was not my brother quite the hero?” she uttered, wearing her usual grin. “Dear sister, you must be extra vigilant, for it was not long ago we were both struck down with fever.”

  Her words made Heather feel warm inside; she was such a caring, unassuming creature.

  “It’s a shame your aunt doesn’t share your concern.”

  “You do not know her as well as I,” she said. “I can assure you she is all kindness.”

  She slipped under the covers and cuddled up to Heather.

  “She has been like a second mother to us since the unfortunate death of our parents. Without question she upped and left her estate in Hampshire, which is now only occupied by the servants, who have been more than accommodating by tending to its upkeep. You see, an old maid, she never married and has no children of her own, so we are her next of kin, and beneficiaries to her estate. On her passing we shall receive a very handsome sum indeed. More Frank than I, being male and the first born, though I shall live very comfortably.”

  “So she has some good qualities then?” Heather joked.

  “Of that I have no doubt, though I may add, the will has a clause attached, stating that my brother must take a wife, and I a husband, for the bloodline to continue. Only then do we receive our inheritance. I just have a feeling that Miss Thornber may finally be the one.”

  Heather could feel herself dying inside. She longed to run to Frank, tell him how she felt, but she was only kidding herself. Mr Boswel’s future was well and truly mapped out for him, and Miss Thornber was to be his leading lady. She had heard many a tale from loose-mouthed servants on passing of his past endeavours with eligible young ladies and staff members,

  making her question whether she was just one of many secret rendezvous. But why, then, did he take things no further? The reality of her thoughts no longer bearable, she considered that he may not have thought her worthy of any further advances, but then she remembered. He slept with Anna, so does he really think so little of me? Oh God, maybe he thinks I’m easy, I did kind of throw myself at him. Well done, Heather, you’ve scared him off! She spent a restless afternoon sleeping and thinking. She was so looking forward to seeing Frank again, anxious to put things right between them and explain herself.

  Florence entered without knocking, already dressed for the grand occasion. Her full-skirted dress was held in place by a hooped pe
tticoat, and the layers of ruffles gave it a fuller appearance. It was the lightest shade of lemon, almost bordering on cream, which suited her hair and complexion perfectly. Martha was only steps behind, her arms outstretched carrying a magnificent gown. Heather had thought the blue dress she’d worn to dinner the previous night was beautiful, but on seeing this, there was just no comparison. After her unfortunate display during the picnic, she had had more than a few second thoughts about attending the ball, preferring instead to hide away in her room, but not now. She loved dressing up, she always had, and her eyes shone at the thought. She was almost as excited as Florence, and unable to resist any longer, she couldn’t leave her bed quickly enough.

  Martha lowered the dress to the floor, leaving a small opening into which she stepped. It was a luxurious gown, its fabric so soft and cool, in an eye-catching dusky pink, with intricate patterns sown in silver thread around the neckline and sash, which fell softly from her accentuated waistline. Martha did her hair, on this occasion leaving looser curls and ringlets cascading down around her neck. Florence, as high-spirited as ever, had hardly drawn breath anticipating the evening awaiting them.

  “Oh, Heather, it will be such a ball,” Florence announced, followed by a childish giggle. “You shall be introduced to the most eligible of bachelors. My aunt’s invitations were sent only to the finest members of society, and all were handwritten I must add. On last count, there shall be over one hundred and fifty guests arriving, with their maids and entourage.” She paused. “Not forgetting Miss Thornber’s party, and the attendees of yesterday’s dinner party, and my Mr Cox, of course. I cannot wait until he asks me to dance.”

  “What time does it start?” Heather asked, on hearing orchestral melodies rising up from below.

  She so hoped she would get her dance also, and that Mr Boswel wouldn’t be taken up with the allures of Miss Thornber for the entire night.

  “It already has,” Florence squeaked, rushing to the window. “Look, horse and carriages pull up as we speak. All fashionably late, I must add; it is not the done thing to arrive on time. So I put it to you that we wait a while.”