An Untimely Romance: A Time Travel Romance

by Wells, J

  “I have had some very alarming news,” Lady Haunchwood said.

  Heather stood bewildered, having no idea to what she referred.

  “Do you wish me to enlighten you?”

  Heather still didn’t reply.

  “I have been informed of my nephew’s return late yesterday evening.”

  Heather blushed, now more than pleased that the room was dimly lit.

  “Miss Richardson, have you nothing to say for yourself? Have I not taken you in, looked after your every need, yet you still find it in your heart to disregard my feelings and hospitality? I even took it upon myself to introduce you to Mr Hammond, a very eligible gentleman, and quite wealthy in his own right.” Her voice reared up in anger as she continued. “Your way of repayment is unthinkable, a dirty little liaison with my nephew, but I can assure you this will not happen again. He will be marrying Miss Thornber in the spring; I intend to see to it personally. If you pursue this plight further I shall have no choice but to disinherit both my niece and nephew.”

  Heather could just about make out the old woman shaking her head in disgust.

  “Someone with your low standing in society will never, I repeat never, carry on my family name. It would be an utter disgrace.”

  “Lady Haunchwood, you don’t understand. I love him, I love Frankie so very much.”

  “How dare you address my nephew so informally!” Her voice again was raised in anger. “I will not yield, young lady; now go, leave me. I have said what I must. You are not invited to the masquerade, and you are no longer welcome in my home.”

  Heather didn’t excuse herself and simply stormed out, slamming the door behind her. She was greeted by Anna smiling up at her, coincidently the first and only time she had seen her do so.

  “You bitch! It was you, wasn’t it? You told her! Were you watching us last night? Tell me!” She grabbed Anna, shaking her roughly by the shoulders.

  Mr Clements, happening only to be a few doors down, rushed over.

  “Please, miss, I beg of you, let her go. Let me escort you back to your room. It is obvious you are very upset, but whatever she has done, I will deal with her later.”

  Heather breathed deeply, her fists clenched, holding back the tears. Why? What have I ever done to her? Her mind was raging, feelings of hatred possessing her, but she knew she’d done nothing and only ever been polite. You won’t get away with this. You may laugh now, but I assure you, it is not an expression you shall wear for long. Upon reaching her bedroom, Mr Clements bowed, dismissing himself.

  “I’d watch that Anna doesn’t go to the masquerade tonight, and if she does, that she keeps clear of Mr Boswel. I’d keep a close eye on both of them if I were you.”

  “Anna, at the masquerade?” he laughed, walking away.

  Where am I to go now, and what about Frank? Her head spinning, she walked into the bedroom and leant against the door, closing her eyes. This was all turning into some kind of horrific nightmare.

  “Miss Richardson.”

  A voice startled her from her thoughts.

  Frank continued. “I know this is very improper of me to do so, but I must speak with you before my aunt learns of my return.” He paused, concern in his eyes. “Miss Richardson, you are upset; are you quite well?” he asked in a sympathetic manner, taking her hand.

  Pulling her hand from his, she replied, “Yes, I am very well.” Her answer was sharp and to the point.

  “Well then, I have something I must ask of you. Dearest Heather, could you find it in your heart to be my wife? My feelings towards you are unquestionable. On your acceptance, I would very much like to make an announcement about our forthcoming nuptials at the masquerade this evening.”

  These were the words she had so longed to hear, but she loved Frank and Florence far too much to see them disinherited, losing everything due to her own selfishness. The only kind thing left to do was walk away.

  “No, Mr Boswel, I cannot accept,” she said, breathing deeply. “I don’t love you.” Breaking out in a cold sweat she watched his face drop, and with it her heart. “How could I? According to your aunt I’m not worthy, no better than a common servant. Frankie, we were seen last night and your aunt is distraught. I’ve been told to leave immediately.”

  “No, wait, I shall speak to her,” he insisted, once again grabbing her by the hands.

  “It’s too late,” Heather sobbed, pulling away. Wiping away her tears and with them any emotional attachment, she continued. “You’d do just as well taking one of your maids to the masquerade. Why not mad Anna? It’s obvious she fancies you, skulking round. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I’m sure she wouldn’t need asking twice; even your dear aunt would be none the wiser, as it’s easy to hide a face behind a mask.”

  “Miss Richardson, you are so very wrong. I need no mask, for I have nothing to hide. So I ask you again, will you marry me?”

  “No, Mr Boswel, I’m afraid not, not in your lifetime.”

  “It is a dangerous game you play, a detrimental edge to your character,” Mr Boswel said, his voice breaking.

  “Games? I don’t play games.” She looked into his eyes one last time before leaving the room.

  Closing the door behind her, she realised in that split second the reality of what she’d done. Lady Haunchwood had won, got the better of her, and it had taken her until now to realise.

  “Frankie, I’m sorry, of course I’ll marry you,” she cried, throwing open the door, but

  Frank was no more, and unfortunately she’d left the past behind.

  Now she knew the visions would come true; she’d left Anna to face a horrific death sentence, and she’d lost the only man she would ever love.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A Harsh Reality

  “Come on, let me back please, please let me back!” Heather sobbed hysterically, throwing herself against the door.

  She thrust it open once again, but no matter how many times she attempted to return, it was all in vain.

  Aching inside, she threw herself onto the bed, trying so hard to hide her eyes from the truth; the hurt unbearable, she’d never believed it possible for a heart to break, until now. How could she have been so blind, so stupid to turn Frank down knowing how much she loved him? Her thoughts returned to their lovemaking the previous night, his smouldering eyes, the warm touch of his hand against her cheek. Her heart surged, and the tears welled once more as she pictured the look of anguish on his face. She’d left him a broken man by her cruel rejection. But why? She already knew the answer – that godforsaken inheritance. How foolish of me, she thought, smacking her fists down against the bed. He owned Freesdon Manor, didn’t he? Neither he nor Florence needed her bloody money. She’d allowed his aunt to shatter her life, and with it any chance of future happiness. Lost in a haze of anger, she’d seen red, her mind awash with emotion. Maybe there’s still a chance, she thought, clutching at straws.

  She ran blindly along the landing to Florence’s room. Upon opening the door, the room was now an empty shell. Her eyes drifted to the dressing table, and although not placed in the exact same spot since the manor’s refurbishment, it still didn’t take her imagination long to conjure up the past. Florence was overly excitable, bursting with a zest for life. Heather could see her now, running towards her, arms outstretched in welcome. Not forgetting good old Martha, always in attendance. Heather couldn’t help but smile at the hours she’d spent on the intricate styling of their hair. Strange in a way how close she’d grown to Florence in such a short period of time, but with the isolation she’d had growing up, she found the whole experience so utterly lifting. She’d found someone with whom she could laugh, talk for hours about nothing specific, and a bond had grown between the two. How she missed them both already. Due to her actions, not only had she lost her best friend, but also the man she loved dearly, and she could scarcely breathe at the thought of never holding him in her arms again.

  Now standing alone in cold reality, it may as well have been nothing b
ut a beautiful dream. Crushed, she pushed the door to and ambled along the landing, returning to the room. Slipping inside, all hope lost, she sat on the bed, depleted. The visions she’d seen around the manor previously were all imagery of that key moment in time, in which she had played her part so eloquently; the night from which she had unknowingly walked away. For everything she’d seen there had a purpose. A seemingly loving couple, Anna and Frank, as they walked up the stairs that night hand in hand, before making love on the same bed where she sat now. She knew, because she had been there, witnessing it all through Anna’s eyes.

  Frank had taken Heather’s words to heart and taken Anna to the masquerade, because he really didn’t care any more about anything, or anybody. Easy prey, Anna, a maid besotted by Mr Boswel’s good looks and charm, had been caught up in his misery, his way of having revenge. After Anna’s untimely meddling, and her own confrontation with Lady Haunchwood, Heather’s anger had erupted, letting slip a warning to the butler. She shuddered, knowing the actions of Mr Clements that would follow; faces in the dark lying in wait, with staring eyes. Heather couldn’t forget the terror Anna felt as the door closed; that poor, poor girl, an already unbalanced mind tipped over the edge, followed by her incarceration, a horrific birth, crying out in pain. Yet nobody was listening, nobody came, so she died alone, to the cries of her child.

  “What on earth have I done?”

  She wept as she thought of Anna’s baby growing up without a mother, an orphaned child growing up without love.

  Images of the boy, Snowdon, the train, the Ouija board hit her like a bolt of lightning. She could see the workhouse, where Anna stood over him like a guardian angel, watching him as he took his last breath. She wondered what the boy’s true intentions were. Did he want his own revenge in some way? Or was it just Anna, showing her the full implications, the horrors of that one night?

  Heather’s face was ashen, and she gasped in the realisation of what she’d done.

  “It’s all my fault,” she said in horror, placing her hand to her mouth. “And I can’t go back to put it right; I can’t change the past.”

  She raised her eyes, drawn to the mirror’s reflection, but not one of her time. Florence was sitting life-like on the bed where Heather now sat alone, comforting Frank, her arms around his shoulders, her face filled with concern. Intermingling voices echoed, undefined words that passed without meaning. Frank drew something from his coat pocket, but Heather could only just make out a gold solitaire. She looked away; it was far too painful. On her returning glance, she was once again met by her own reflection, to which she now spoke.

  “Well, Frankie, you’ll take Anna tonight, but when tomorrow comes, you’ll follow your aunt’s wishes. I truly hope you find happiness with Miss Thornber.”

  She left the room, turning for one final look at the bed, the pillow...

  “Shit! How could I have been so blind? The gunshot, feathers... No, Anna doesn’t die tonight, does she? And the only other person in the room was you.”

  Feeling sick to her stomach, she leant against the doorframe.

  “Frankie, tonight’s the night you die.”

  She slid to the floor, overwhelmed by grief. What was the point? What was the point of any of it? Their meetings? His coming to her in the twenty-first century? Their kiss? If only she knew. The ghastly visions had almost driven her out of her mind. I’ve been chosen for a reason, she thought, yet she had managed to change absolutely nothing. The cards had already been dealt, and fate on this occasion had the upper hand. She felt unable to face anybody and needed to be alone with her thoughts. She chose the lake, being the only place she could find peace and be close to Frank.

  She avoided the annex so as not to bump into her mum or dad. The afternoon, like her mood, was overcast, and there was no sign of it lifting. The koi were especially active, on the lookout for food as her fingers broke the water’s tranquillity, and there she sat whiling away the hours, lost in thought; making love to Frank this time, unfortunately, was only in her mind. Every touch, every kiss they shared was so natural, no awkward moments or second thoughts, which she’d felt on several occasions during intimate moments with Ruben, whom she realised she hadn’t given a second thought. But how could she live the rest of her life in love with a ghost? A man that even in his own time had died. Remembering how attentive Ruben had been during her illness, finally saying those three words she so longed to hear, he still couldn’t ever live up to Frank and her beautiful memory of him.

  Warm hands touched her face, fingertips covering her eyes. Could she even dare to hope? She turned slowly, disbelief welling up inside.

  “See? I couldn’t wait that long.”

  Heather’s heart sank. “Ruben...”

  He frowned upon seeing the unfashionable way she was dressed.

  “New nightie?”

  Laughing, he knelt down beside her, turning her face with his finger and giving her a meaningful peck on her lips. But it was the wrong kiss, the wrong lips, and Heather had an inner feeling of unfaithfulness that she couldn’t run from.

  “When did I see you last?” she asked, giving her a good excuse to pull away. She was expecting the answer to be months, that she had missed it all, the grand opening, her eighteenth birthday.

  “Few hours, I suppose, could be a bit longer, but not much. Why do you ask?”

  She could hardly hide the surprise on her face; it had surely been days, weeks. She remembered all the mornings she’d woken, how many suns she’d seen rising. But if Ruben spoke the truth, then the relationships she’d built, the love she’d found and lost, had all happened in a heartbeat, a matter of moments. He took her hand, pulling her to her feet.

  Heather looked up at the sky as they walked back towards the house. The sun still hadn’t managed to show its face, and there was a dampness hanging in the air; she could smell a moistness rising from the earth, and the feeling of a storm brewing.

  “I’ve parked up by the annex. Ya mum caught me, said everything’s pretty much done now, so it’ll be nice as we can all sit back and relax, and wait for the opening. And I can spend time thinking about you and your birthday.”

  With more than one meaning to his words, Heather cringed as he squeezed her hand. She looked into his eyes, searching for the return of those old feelings, but on this occasion the brilliance of his green eyes only left her feeling cold.

  She felt so strange upon entering the annex, which was now more like an unwanted appendage. She quickly slipped away, changing back into her jeans and back into the twenty-first century.

  Her mum was setting the table in the kitchen, while her dad sat on the sofa in front of the telly, his weekly gazette on the coffee table, ready for the breaks in whatever sports programme he was lost in. Overhearing a noise when they entered, Faye looked up.

  “Glad you’re feeling better, love.”

  Her mum’s words were soothing and warm, and Heather realised she had missed her. She couldn’t help but go over and place her arms around her mum’s shoulders. As they sat down for dinner, she listened to her father’s excitement about the manor’s grand opening, with barely a mention of her birthday. It was an afterthought, but she’d often considered herself to be just that over the years. Quite disappointed that her birthday celebrations were on the same day as the opening, she was sure her special day would just fall into insignificance.

  Ruben’s hands were snake-like, and he couldn’t leave her alone for a moment. But she felt as if she may well have been in the nineteenth century, looking in through a window, not really there. She loved them all in her own way, though it wasn’t enough now, and what was missing she needed more than ever. She contributed the odd yes and no, the odd smile, trying to take an interest, and she hoped her acting skills were better than reality. She didn’t even feel empty, it was past that; she felt completely numb, as if her life lacked any meaning, any direction, and that she was living in the wrong time.

  Ruben sighed. “I can see from your face that you’re
tired. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” He said his goodbyes before leaving the table.

  Heather followed him out. He leant back against the car, placing his hands on her hips, his fingers in the pocket of her jeans.

  “Now ya better we can start living, having some fun. So many places I want to take you. Show you off to my friends, from a distance, mind.” He gloated. “And there’s ya birthday...”

  “With the opening, I don’t think there’ll be much time for my birthday.”

  Ruben tilted his head slightly. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve already had words with ya dad. Trust me, I’m going to make it special in every way. And I’m sure how special you’re going to make it for me.”

  Her eyes didn’t know where to look, at him or away. She felt sick at the thought, knowing her feelings.

  “God, Hev, don’t look so alarmed. I know it’ll be your first time and you’re bound to be nervous, a bit apprehensive.” His hands moved up around her waist. “But there’s no need to be. I’ll be gentle, take it slowly,” he whispered, pulling her closer. “I want you, always. No more mistakes and shit with Beth, you’re mine now.”

  She smiled up at him. His words were sweet, but she couldn’t help wonder about his choice of words, as if she was only a mere possession. Of course she might have been doing him an injustice, but then she knew his capabilities, his complexities. Although people can change, she reminded herself.

  “And don’t worry, Heather, I’ve already made my mind up about Beth. When I leave you, I’ll ring her and tell her she’s not invited. I don’t want anything putting a dampener on our special night.”

  “No, Ruben, don’t. I’ve got nothing against Beth, honestly; in fact, I quite like her. I know she doesn’t pose a threat, and it really doesn’t matter now anyway, I’ve moved on.” She gave a wry smile.

  “Getting quite old for ya years,” he said, seemingly pleased by her change of heart and maturity. “I think I may be falling in love with you, Heather Richardson.”