The Wayfarer: A Time Travel Romance (The Wayfarer Series Book 1)
Page 13
I had to will my feet to move. I hated bats. I tried not to imagine what other lovely creatures lurked here in the dark. Rats. Spiders.
“I’ll walk you all the way, but you must keep quiet. I’d lose my hide if we get caught.”
“Where does this lead?” I wondered how safe this tunnel was.
“The basement of the house where they have the wine cellars. Most of the servants no longer live down there—they live on the west side of the property, other than Mr. Phoebus and Miss Barnsby. The kitchens are also there, so you’ll have to be careful.”
“Oh. Okay.” This was starting to sound riskier than just walking through the front door.
The only light came from the lantern. The ceiling was low and if I reached up I could touch it without even straining, but instead I hunched low to avoid it or anything possibly dangling from it. Halfway through I tripped over something on the ground and skidded across the stone floor. My right knee was left raw from the unforgiving surface.
“Are you all right, miss?” Jamie scurried back and helped me to my feet.
The light from Jamie’s lantern revealed a beautiful silver candelabra discarded carelessly on the ground. It was the kind of candlestick that belonged not in a tunnel like this but on a dining table.
“What’s that doing here?” I asked.
“I dunno, miss. That’s a curious place to find such a thing.” He made no move to pick it up and I assumed that he had no way of turning it in without revealing where he’d found it. So we simply pressed on.
When we reached the house Jamie shoved the door open just a crack to make sure the coast was clear. My heart started thumping in my chest like an erratic drumbeat. My nerves were already frayed from my encounter with creepy Harris, the last thing I wanted was to get caught in here.
“The servants’ stairs are down the hall to the right. The kitchen is the other way so you should be fine. Go up three flights and that should bring you to your floor,” he whispered and turned to double-time it back to the barn.
“Thank you,” I whispered after him, but he was already halfway gone.
The door was opened only enough for me to squeeze through. On tiptoes I stepped as quietly and as quickly as my boots would allow. When I was just about to turn a corner, I heard feet scuffing along the ground and men’s hushed voices. In a panic, I swallowed my heart and did a three-sixty to see where I could possibly hide. Just beyond the tunnel door I found a small dark alcove. I tucked into the darkest corner of it and tried hard to steady my breathing. I sounded like Darth Vader and considered covering my face with the sleeve of my shirt.
“You mustn’t raise any suspicion when you break away from the hunt,” the first man said.
“Of course, and what about the billet straps? Will they be cut just enough on the saddle?” the second man asked.
“Yes, that will be taken care of,” the first man replied impatiently.
“Does he usually check his tack before mounting?”
“No, I’ve never seen him. Oh, and lead him as far away as possible from where the others will be hunting. No one must see you together.”
“I will take every precaution.”
“See you in two days. Godspeed.” One of the men walked past my hiding place. I was too afraid to try to peek. Whatever they were plotting was not intended for anyone else’s ears.
I heard the heavy door for the tunnel open and then close. Hopefully Jamie had already made it to the other side. The other man went back the way I was supposed to be headed, so I stayed hidden for a while until I was sure he was long gone. Who on earth were they talking about? My mind raced as I tried to piece together the fragments of conversation I’d overheard. Brushing the dust off my clothes, I headed for the servants’ staircase. Just as I was about to turn the handle, the door opened and there stood Miss Barnsby with a shocked expression.
“What on earth are you doing down here? Where’ve you been all day? The countess asked me several times already if I’d helped you dress for the ball.” She was already red in the face and I was afraid she’d soon spontaneously combust.
“I came down looking for you.” The lie came out easily—it was becoming an occupational hazard of mine.
“Well, let’s get you upstairs, the party’s nearly half over.”
For the first time missing half a party felt like a relief.
Chapter 22
The Ball
With one last check in the long mirror, I was ready to go. It felt like I was attending a costume party. The dress Isobel had lent me was a light blue tarlatane evening gown with a delicate lace and ribbon trim. The neckline swooped down in an oval shape, just barely kissing my shoulders. The arms puffed out before tapering just above my elbow. It was a relief to have the scar on my upper arm covered completely, as I continued to wear a small bandage over it.
The many petticoats I wore underneath—I counted six in total—made me look like I had an enormous behind. Apparently the cage petticoat had yet to grace nineteenth-century fashion. If I was stuck here much longer I would need to introduce that accessory sooner than later.
“I’m not sure why Miss Isobel was so insistent you wear this one. It’s been out of fashion for quite some time.” Miss Barnsby finished the buttons in the back as she spoke. “But nonetheless, it looks far better on you than it ever did on her.” I couldn’t tell if she meant that as a compliment to me or an insult to Isobel. Or was her purpose to make me feel insecure about wearing a dress no longer in fashion? Little did she know, I was not and had never been a fashion victim. If it fit and was comfortable I liked it.
Miss Barnsby took special care to do my hair, putting it up with matching blue ribbon and delicate flowers. Most woman would be wearing some form of headdress, but she felt that because my hair was so ‘beautiful’—her word, not mine—it was best to do as little as possible. Perhaps I was winning her over slowly but surely.
The shoes were a little less comfortable. I imagined tripping and falling flat on my face à la Jennifer Lawrence at the Oscars. With this giant dress it was going to be difficult to simply blend in with the furniture.
In a flutter of nerves like I was going to prom, I was escorted by Miss Barnsby down the hall only as far as the staircase. I was forced to do the last leg on my own like Cinderella arriving late to the ball.
Not at all the effect I was going for.
Lord Henry, who had been deep in conversation with a small party including Jane, stopped mid-sentence to stare. Jane had to crane her neck in an awkward way to see what had grabbed her fiancé’s attention so suddenly. A part of me relished the attention from Lord Henry and the turmoil it spurred in his betrothed.
Once at the bottom I pretended to be looking for a friend. Of course I had none, but it gave me an excuse to walk into another room. Isobel noticed me from the other side of the room and glided over with a drink in hand and a smile on her face.
What a relief!
“You look incredible, Miss Clayton.” She used my surname now out of politeness.
“And you too, Lady Drake.” I hoped I got that one right. All these people went by so many names it was impossible to keep track. Especially someone like me, where names went in one ear and out the other. I made a mental note to work on that this evening.
“Shall we take a stroll?” She took my arm and guided me towards the great room where people seemed to be gathering. “And maybe you can tell me where you were all day,” she said in a confidential manner. Did everyone in the house know I’d left? This was a very slippery slope.
“Just went out for a ride and got a bit lost. They really should have better signposts.”
Disappointment filled Isobel’s eyes. “I thought you might have more interesting gossip to share. Like maybe a secret rendezvous?” She winked at me. Did she know? Had Harris come back and reported where I’d gone? Maybe I should confess that I’d gone to Oxwich? “You know, with a certain lieutenant?” Isobel arched an eyebrow at me, trying to coax a confession.
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Relief washed over me. “Nope, nothing that exciting.”
“It’s been terribly boring here without you. Mother has been dreadful with all her preparations.” She continued to lead me from room to room with her arm tucked into mine. “So I’ve been scoping out the guests for anyone who looks remotely interesting, but with little luck, I’m afraid.”
Many inquisitive eyes followed our every move, but Isobel hardly noticed. She was on a mission of her own and I was so relieved for the distraction that I gladly played along. When we heard the forced, clipped laughter of the countess from the next room we changed course and strolled in the other direction. The dancing had started in the large drawing room and Isobel dragged me with newfound purpose. The dance master stood near the orchestra, directing the night’s entertainment.
We were not standing long before a young man with short dark hair parted down the middle and meticulously combed came to us and asked Isobel to dance. A familiar waltz by Franz Schubert brought the dance floor to life as couples stepped and spun in constant rotation. I watched and took it all in. All the men were dressed in a similar way—black tail coats of fine fabric, with white or black waistcoats and pressed white shirts under that. Most of the men wore white neckties, but a few wore black. With every room bursting with guests, it was difficult to calculate how many people were here.
Once this song ended another started and Isobel was already dancing with a new partner. This time, it was a faster-paced number—a polka, I heard one woman say, where couples took only two short steps before twirling. I was mesmerized by the quick footwork. A couple of men looked my way, but no one dared to approach. Instinctively, I took a whiff of my underarms just to make sure the foul odor I was smelling was in fact not coming from my own body. Without the luxury of deodorant sticks, I had been dousing myself in lavender or rose oils. In a pinch I’d resorted to a handful of potpourri rubbed over my entire body.
My feet started to ache and I thought it might be a good time to make my escape. Then I caught sight of Lord Henry and Jane dancing together. Call it morbid curiosity, but as much as I felt torn up watching it, I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. They were gracefully dancing together. Of course Jane would be a good dancer, she’d no doubt been taught to play piano as well. Lord Henry looked like he was having a good time. This tore at my heart. Jane, of course, was all smiles and giggles.
On one of their turns around the room he caught sight of me staring and I immediately looked away. I felt humiliated getting caught. At this point, I decided that I’d had enough and turned to make my way quietly to my room, but before I could Isobel was beside me, panting and asking me why I hadn’t been dancing.
“I’m fine. I’m not really very good.” Not exactly true—I was great at Zumba, but I doubted if that counted.
Lord Henry was walking in our direction. Now, I felt desperate to leave but Isobel was still holding my arm. Short of wrenching it from her grasp I was stuck. Isobel’s eyes twinkled mischievously when she saw her brother.
“Darling brother, do dance with Miss Clayton—no one has asked her and she is so lovely this evening.” She gave Lord Henry her best puppy-dog eyes. He in turn gave her a ‘meddling sister’ sigh.
“Oh, don’t worry. When I said I wasn’t very good I meant it.” I silently cursed Isobel for putting us both on the spot. I could tell that Lord Henry was hesitant. He scanned the room for someone. Probably for Jane.
“Miss Emma, would you do me the honor?” He reached his hand out to me. Isobel grinned at him like a proud sister.
“You know, you are not allowed to refuse, Emma, otherwise you might be found guilty of an incivility,” she teased.
When I took Lord Henry’s hand all the hairs on my arms came to life and stood to attention. Even through our gloved hands, the heat from his body transferred immediately to mine and my cheeks started to burn. It would be a gross understatement to say only a few eyes were on us. So many eyes burrowed holes in my back that I felt like Swiss cheese. There was no turning back now, not without causing some sort of fuss or embarrassment.
“I’ll try not to step on your toes.” My feeble attempt at a joke. It was a comfort to hear him laugh. These were the first words we had spoken to each other since that night in the stables. Both of us tried hard to act as if nothing had ever passed between us.
“I heard you were out for a ride today?” he said by way of conversation.
“Yep.” I wasn’t ready to offer anything more. Maybe Harris had already told him, so I thought the less said the better.
“Need I remind you of the dangers of traveling unaccompanied?” There was only a hint of reprimand in his tone.
“No, you need not,” I said with a smile.
He simply studied me for a second before nodding.
He put one arm around my waist and the other continued holding my hand, waiting for the orchestra to start. He had not a crease in his suit, nor a stray hair out of place as I allowed my eyes a quick scan of Lord Henry. Impeccable as always. He can’t possibly be human.
Tiny explosions went off in my belly. It must be nerves, I thought to myself.
When was the last time I’d danced with a man?
Neither of us were sure where to look. It felt like an eternity before the music finally started. We made our way around the entire ballroom in constant rotation, dancing to the Sussex Waltz. It was probably used in hundreds of movies depicting a nineteenth-century ball. When our eyes finally met they locked and everything else in the room faded away. He was a great leader. I hadn’t been this close to him since our kiss and though it had been just the once, my body was ringing with the memory of it.
Since the news of his engagement I had been careful to avoid him, perhaps more out of my own sense of self-preservation. But somehow being apart even for that short time had only increased my desire for him now. The intensity of longing was palpable. Was he feeling the same way? His fingers pressed into the skin on my back and desire for him welled up inside me like butterflies, fluttering, begging to be released. His eyes grazed mine, conveying far more than either of us were prepared to say. The sensuality of this hidden exchange felt charged and dangerous, like the blowing winds before a storm, unpredictable. What was wrong with me? Where was the off switch? A fire had been lit here and the more I tried to put it out the more I seemed to fan the flames. A battle raged inside me. Around and around we turned. Until, all of a sudden, bony fingers dug into my arm, breaking our embrace, and I found myself staring into the eyes of the devil herself: the countess.
“May I cut in?” It wasn’t a question but a threat.
Lord Henry was quick to pull on his mask of indifference. I made a less fluid attempt to do the same. Lieutenant Walker came to my rescue and saved me the embarrassment of walking off the dance floor myself. He took my hand.
“Would you do me the honor, Miss Clayton?” His perfectly chiseled features gave even Batman a run for his money.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. So nice to see you again.” It was genuinely a relief to see him. Someone had to bring me back to reality. We began gracefully dancing around the room. “I haven’t seen you all night.” I struggled to switch gears.
“No, I’ve only just arrived, and by the looks of it just at the right time.” The medals hanging off his red uniform were blinding and made tiny clanking sounds as we spun.
“Yes, it would appear so.” His charms would make most women swoon. Sadly, not this one.
“Poor Henry,” he said and we both looked to his friend dancing stiffly with the devil. “That woman has always had a bee in her bonnet.”
I laughed out loud at his candid remark about the countess, relieved that I wasn’t the only one who found her unbearable.
“She’s always been so jealous of Henry’s mother that she’s taken it out on him his whole life.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lord Henry watching us. “Oh?” It had never occurred to me that the woman had any feelings, let alone jealousy.
I didn’t feel like laughing. It sounded so sad for everyone. Suddenly I understood why the countess was so sour. Bitter even. How sad to be with a man who could never love you the way you wanted to be loved.
When the waltz ended another began, and the lieutenant asked if we could continue dancing. He was very entertaining and loved to tell story after story about his adventures overseas and all his strange encounters. It always felt like he was on and for now I found it a perfect distraction.
And so it went for the next three dances until I was sweating profusely and desperate for something to drink. The lieutenant left me in search of refreshments for us.
“Oh, Emma, I saw you dancing with the lieutenant,” Isobel gushed as she joined me. Her arm slid through mine and she steered me to the nearest chair.
“Were you spying on me?” I teased.
“Oh, yes, I think half the people in this room remarked what a handsome couple you make.” She was being sincere.
Just at that moment Lord Henry walked past us and Isobel called out to him.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Henry? Didn’t Miss Emma and the lieutenant make a handsome couple?” She was so thrilled to be playing matchmaker.
“I wouldn’t have noticed.” He said this looking at me. “Excuse me.” He bowed his head and left the room abruptly.
“Well, I wonder what spoiled his pudding,” she said in a reproachful tone. Her recovery was quick though when a short lank-haired boy approached us. He seemed hesitant and almost looked as if he would turn tail and run.
“Umm… Lady Isobel? Would you be so kind as to accept the next dance with me?” He looked more relieved once he’d finally managed to say the words.
“I’d be honored, Lord Waverly.” With a quick glance back at me she mouthed the words, ‘I’ll be back,’ before she disappeared into the next room.