by Wells, J
“Miss Richardson ... Heather,” Frank interrupted, “we have very little time. You must listen to what I have to say.”
“But how is it possible? I saw you die. The gunshot, the pillow ... I’m holding a ghost,” she sobbed. “Why do you torment me?”
“No, Heather, fortunately for you I never died that night. Please allow me to explain.”
Heather’s eyes widened. Sitting beside her, he continued.
“You, a young girl at thirteen years of age, myself a mere boy of seventeen, for the very briefest of moments our worlds came together, and for this I have no explanation.”
She smiled. “Maybe time’s way of allowing our formal introduction.”
“I believe you may be right.” Frank’s voice was heartfelt and sincere. “Years later, again you graced my life, though now as a woman, a very beautiful woman. However, my dear, you ailed, taken with amnesia.”
“Oh, Frankie,” Heather laughed, “I never had amnesia.”
“I know this to be true now,” he said, gently taking her by the hand. “You captivated my heart from that moment onwards.”
“But I rejected you so cruelly. How could I have been so bloody stupid?”
“Yes, Heather, I am afraid you did. You walked out of my life, leaving me a broken man. I did as you requested of me that very night, at the masquerade.”
Heather shuddered at the thought of him and Anna together.
“I saw everything,” she said, thinking back. “I saw her leave the room, and I saw you die that night.”
Frank sat in thought. “My memory deceives me so, as to the trigger, and whose finger, though it may always have been a possibility of being my own, for what had I to live for?”
Heather couldn’t bear the thought, for she knew both Anna and Mr Clements had motives of their own, so it could have been either one of them.
“The rejection you passed on my proposal in such a cruel, unfeeling manner, I can still hear the words you insulted me with.”
She looked down, ashamed. “Yes, and they are for me to live with, and have haunted me ever since.”
No, not in your lifetime, she thought, remembering her words. How could she?
“You see, before the bullet made contact, life was kind and time granted me a pardon, so I travelled forwards to your time, and, my dear, we met, on the bridge.”
Heather laughed, taken back to one of her earliest recollections of Frank.
“So in your eyes we’d already shared those intimate moments by the lake,” she said, slowly beginning to understand how the events in time had played out for Frank.
“Yes, I remember meeting you on the bridge that day, showing you round the manor. You were only a step away from being a stranger, yet you kissed me on the staircase.” A warm feeling welled up inside her as she spoke. “I guess to you we had already been more than acquainted, hadn’t we?”
She grinned cheekily.
“Yes, Miss Richardson, my duty to you as chaperone in Snowdonia was not to leave you alone with that undesirable.”
She giggled at Frank’s description of Ruben.
“You never said goodbye; when I woke the following morning, you’d disappeared.”
“This I cannot account for, as time has a strange plan from which I have no way of being released.”
“So where does this leave us?” Heather questioned. “Will time ever allow us to be together?”
“This I cannot answer, I am here and bring with me a warning. Tonight, Heather, is the night you die; I know this to be true, as I have seen it for myself in visions.”
“How and where? Frankie, it can’t be true. I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
“You must listen and heed what I say, I have no way of saving you in your own time. As we speak, the masquerade plays on, and Anna and I are heading towards the staircase. We have but a small window, a scarce opening in time. You must let yourself fall back into the nineteenth century, giving me the opportunity to save you; in return, you shall save me. In doing so our fate will be sealed, the cause of our demise only a memory lost in time.” His face deadly serious, he continued. “There would never have been a gunshot, therefore I would not have travelled forward. Leaving me no recollection of my part in the twenty-first century...” His voice softened, and he smiled. “My love, we shall live out the rest of our days together in the nineteenth century.”
Heather backed away. “But what about my family, my mum and dad? We can’t live our lives centuries apart.”
“I am afraid you are not understanding me. There really is no other option,” he said, helping her to her feet. “I must go; time waits for no one.”
“Please don’t leave me, Frankie, I’m scared.”
“You have no need to be. You know where to find me, and I am waiting.”
“Are you a dream, another vision? Please hold me, Frankie. I need reassurance that you are real.”
He held her face softly between his hands; she could feel the warmth of his touch, the familiarity of his lips against hers.
“Get your filthy hands off her, you bastard!”
Heather jumped back and saw Ruben’s face crazed in anger as he crossed the bridge, hurrying towards them.
“Out of my way!” he shouted as he barged past Heather, who could see from his expression that his pride was hurt. “And wipe him off your face. You disgust me!” Frank and Ruben stood, their faces only inches apart. “How dare you touch my girl? I’m going to kill you!”
Frank held his composure, a gentleman to the end. Ruben’s fist struck out, and sent Frank reeling at the force of his blow. Ruben’s anger not subsiding, he went in for a second and third.
“No, Ruben, get off him, leave him alone!” Heather pleaded, pulling him back.
Turning, his eyes met with hers.
“You needed time away to think?” he mocked. “No, Heather, you needed time away to cheat. Well, bitch, I’m still waiting, and you’re going to give me the answer I want to hear, now, tonight. No one takes what’s mine!” his voice thundered, turning towards Frank, who had gone and was nowhere to be seen.
“You pussy! That’s it, run, run away, coward!”
Without a second to waste, he grabbed Heather’s wrist.
“And you’re coming with me!”
“Ruben, you’re hurting me!” she cried as he dragged her, stumbling, towards the manor, ignoring her pleas for release.
The gardens lay in darkness, the party well and truly over. His fingers tightened forcefully, pulling her up the steps and opening the front door. Only the odd candle lit up the hallway. Her steps faltering, the staircase threw her off balance as they began their ascent. Heather’s eyes were drawn towards the hall and a ghostly masquerade; unheard melodies played, though only in her head. Two silhouettes rose elegantly from the hallway.
Reaching out her free hand, she gasped, realising they were those of Frank and Anna.
“Frankie...” she cried out.
“How can you call for him when you’ve got me?”
Though his voice was angry, she watched his eyes drowning in sorrow. Heather realised then that Ruben did love her, just as much as she loved Frank, her Mr Boswel.
“Ruben, I’m so sorry.” She’d never spoken truer words; she could feel his pain.
“If you’re really so sorry...” He paused on the top stair, looking down into her eyes. “Choose.”
A couple of steps below, teetering on the edge, Heather felt a strange mix of emotions. She turned again, an inner sense calling her. The silhouettes had now taken on their own life-like appearance, and the masquerade danced on. On seeing Florence and her Mr Cox, she couldn’t help but smile; such a jolly couple. The nineteenth and twenty-first centuries were merging, and with them her one love, seen by only her eyes, confronted by Frank and Anna’s reality as they stood hand in hand, walking towards her up the staircase.
On reaching the stair below, Frank’s eyes wandered from Anna towards the landing. Stopping, he gasped, and with immediate recogni
tion, his face lit up.
“Miss Richardson, you came back,” he said, and released Anna’s hand, her cold eyes boring into Heather’s.
Anna passed her with an abruptness in her manner as she proceeded to the top of the staircase, a shoulder width away from Ruben, though neither aware of each other’s existence, as they were literally centuries apart. Oh shit, Ruben, Heather thought. Though in turmoil, she knew he deserved an answer. Yet she felt unsure about telling him her true feelings and intentions.
Composing herself slightly, she breathed in deeply before speaking.
“Ruben, it’s always been Frank; he’s my past, present and my future. He’s my life, so I could never bring myself to marry you.”
Ruben’s face hardened, though with a sadness in his eyes.
“If you want him so badly, then go to him; he’s welcome to you.” His grip on her loosened.
Her eyes moved to Anna’s, a madness apparent in the servant’s glare.
“Get out, bitch!” Anna wailed vengefully.
Anna’s love was no more than an obsessive insanity, and with Ruben’s release came her vendetta, her longing for retribution. A hand materialized somewhere in time. Almost in slow motion, Heather felt herself falling. She caught sight of the grandfather clock, which chimed just once ... in two minds, yet her eyes were drawn to its face. Heather gasped, her arms flailing as she tried to steady herself, though totally missing her footing and her balance lost as she teetered on the stair. Face-to-face with a darkened vision, Ruben took on a transformation of his own as he began to fade to an unreality. He reached towards her, for her hand, but his efforts were in vain. Stumbling, momentarily he too must have felt that awful sense of falling. For a brief moment, Heather hung balanced between two worlds. Whether a premonition or a silhouette, she couldn’t be sure, but Beth’s presence appeared on the landing, stabilising Ruben’s footing, like she had always seemed to stabilise his life. Heather felt a kind of relief, somehow knowing they’d both be okay.
“I’m coming home, Frankie,” she whispered.
A menacing aura emitted an unearthly chilling cry from nowhere specific, piercing Heather’s ears like a knife before evaporating like the early morning mist. Then, time lost in an all-consuming slow motion, she picked up on the echoing tick coming from the antique grandfather clock, which intensified with each simultaneous movement of its pendulum. Both hands rested once again on the number one, the hands moving slowly in reverse. She looked down at her body, clad in the ivory ball gown. All the visions she’d seen taking place were like a never-ending circle.
“I shall never let you fall. Never...” were the next words Heather heard, and startled back to reality she felt the support of two strong arms holding her tightly.
As Frank’s face nestled into her neck, with a slight tilt of her head his lips met with hers in a soft yet passionate kiss. She could feel his teeth pressing against hers with intensity, his kiss filled with emotion.
“I love you, Frankie,” she murmured, “and the answer to your question is yes.”
~•••~
The following morning at Freesdon Manor was a very sad one. Ruben bent his head to sit in the waiting police car, while Beth, her face ashen, put her arm around his shoulder as they were driven away. There were so many unanswered questions surrounding Heather’s disappearance. What a birthday for both Faye and Walter, for the night of their daughter’s eighteenth was the night they lost their little girl. The key for her new car still lay in its little box, and as for New York, it would just have to wait.
“Maybe we’ll stay another week or two,” Amy said, as if trying her best to placate her grieving parents, her supportive arms leading them back to the annex. “I know Heather, and she won’t have gone far.”
The kitchen door closed behind them. Dannika, too young to understand the enormity of the situation, played alone on the stairs. She looked up and was greeted by a portrait of the handsomest of men, his jet-black hair in waves; seated by his side was a beautiful young woman, heavily with child. Being the tender age she was, with a child’s intuition, she smiled; it was as if she just knew, though that was her secret, and hers alone.
A replay of a memory trapped in time, played out once more, though on this occasion for Dannika. A menacing aura emitting an unearthly chilling cry from nowhere specific, yet piercing her ears like a knife, before evaporating like the early morning mist. Dannika covered her ears, watching a silhouetted figure falling from the staircase. A female form cloaked in a white gown lay lifeless, the staircase an obvious journey to her death.
“Aunty Heather?”
She watched the faceless figure pull itself to its feet, and walk back up the stairs and onto the landing, the portrait being its final destination.
“No,” she said, smiling; the figure was not of her aunt.
She watched as a darkened orb appeared, floating behind two very happy smiles.
Frank had been there to catch Heather when she fell, and likewise Beth for Ruben, but there were no hands to catch Anna that night when she fell. Her soul was not meant to be saved, forever lost in an endlessness of time. However, there was one thing time could not erase. Dannika smiled as a small clear glass marble landed by her feet. She picked it up, admiring it. You see, the memory of that one little boy who wanted a life, in whatever way, was going to make sure that was what he got, but that’s another story, for another day.
So, life continued for Heather’s parents, though now it was no more than mere existence, as day after day they grieved for what used to be; two inconsolable souls waiting for someone who unfortunately would never come home. So from that untimely day to this, the doors of Freesdon Manor remain closed.
End... Book 1
A Message from the Authors
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading. We cannot tell you how grateful we are for the time and resources you invested in our work. We hope you enjoyed this book and that you received as much pleasure reading it as we did writing it. We truly respect your time, and if you could take just a minute and scroll to the very end, you’ll find a section that Amazon has created for you to rate and share this book with your social network. And then if you’d write a review on Amazon (drop a tip in our jar), we’d be extremely grateful.
With Much Gratitude,
J & L Wells
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Acknowledgments
We would like to start off by thanking our proofreader and editor, Sarah Cheeseman, for all her hard work, friendship and encouragement; we couldn’t have done it without you.
Adrian Brown LRPS – http://www.clearimagephotography.co.uk – the photographer who took the original picture of our beautiful model.
Heather Sue Edwards, who you will find on our front cover. We want to thank her for letting us use her stunning picture.
Regina Wamba – www.maeidesign.com/ www.facebook.com/MaeIDesignandPhotography– for our amazing book cover, Facebook banner, bookmarks and Youtube video; a very, very talented lady, who has been so lovely to work with.
All our family and friends, you have been so helpful, and we have made some really special friends along the way – (authors) Roger K Driscoll, Jake Bonsignore, Kevin Hall and many more. An extra special thank you to author L L Hunter, who gave us the courage and belief in our book, and the motivation to keep going and not give up.
And finally, a massive thank you to Jeff and Amber Bennington from Nexgate Press, our amazing publishers, for their belief in An Untimely Romance, and helping us on this journey.
Thank you so much.
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