“So, why don’t you do it all yourself instead of involving us?” I grabbed James’ hand to try and calm him but he ignored it. “Oh yes. I remember. Unlike us, you can’t travel through time.”
Mr Wells was unflappable in his reply, “You see? Your reply is an example of how my process works?”
Heaven help Isabel, I thought, when she comes to argue with him.
I said, “Sir! You may not realise it, but by your choice of words we perceive you are goading us! Please desist!”
“I apologise. But humans, I find, have limited capabilities in discovering truth and my method is designed to transcend those capabilities.”
“Jeeze! Don’t tell me you’re not human, Wells?” said James.
“I have no idea. I sometimes wonder. As I’m wondering why there is a Martian on the sideboard next to the lamp.”
----------------
J.
Four heads turned at once and stared. It didn’t move. As usual, Elizabeth and I sought and grabbed each other’s hand. I have no idea why we always do this when we’re shocked or frightened. It never changes the situation. No doubt Wells will have a reason for it, but I prefer Elizabeth’s: it is a comfort.
Its gossamer wings were already shimmering. Automatically my eyes were drawn to the small oval recess in its forehead which I’d concluded long ago was used for some form of telepathic communication. The room blurred. I tried to resist what was coming but I knew it was like fighting to remain conscious just before you go under from an anaesthetic.
The other three had now become grey ghost-like wraiths. And then, we all vanished! I mean really disappeared, including me. I saw nothing. I wasn’t there! Then slowly, the grey wraiths returned and grew in form. I could smell damp grass. Then the sound of rustling leaves above. Another moment and the four of us found ourselves standing in a patch of vegetation. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness I saw what I was standing in.
“These look like cabbages! Where are we? Is this what Martians eat, Wells?”
“No!”
“Despite what you said, we seem to be breathing the air with no ill effect,” whispered Elizabeth to me.
“Well, we shouldn’t be, unless the Martians have altered the fundamental laws of physics.”
Then I saw a small lamp on a wall about fifty yards away.
“Let’s try and get to that. It might be an entrance to one of the Martian caverns.”
We walked, no, waded, through the vegetation until we stumbled into some form of brambles recognisable by the sharp pain their thorns gave to the flesh.
“God, I hope they’re not poisonous.” I said.
“And I hope you still have some of the monies Mr Wells gave you for a new dress. For this one is shredded.”
“How many dresses have I ruined?”
“Every adventure you have taken me on. .. ouch! These thorns! I have a good mind to wear a maid’s garments in future.”
“Mmh! Nice idea. I bet you’d look quite good in them.”
“You are incorrigible!”
“I know. Took your mind of this nightmare for a minute though. Ah! We’ve reached the edge. Looks like a path. Where’s your father? I thought he was following us.”
“I am over here by the lamp, Mr Urquhart.” A voice called.
When we eventually reached him I said, quite breathless and sore, “How did you get here so quickly? I thought we took the straightest path.”
“I believe you did and I see my daughter was fool enough to follow you.”
“What path did you take then? It’s nearly pitch black.”
“I had the advantage of knowing the paths quite well.”
“You’ve been here before, Father?” said Elizabeth, sounding quite annoyed. “You are as bad as Mr Wells for taking advantage of us.”
“Do you not recognise it, Elizabeth?” said her father, giving an expression a parent gives to a confused child. “I am surprised. You used to play here a lot.”
We both looked at each other and seeing no enlightenment returned to him.
“It is our kitchen garden.’”
“The kitchen gardens!” we both yelled.
Elizabeth turned back to me. “Oh, I am such a fool. Why did I not recognise it? There is the old seat by the rose trellises. I blame you, James, for leading me on.”
“Rubbish. I’m blaming you for thinking I knew what I was doing. And not knowing your own backyard. By the way, where’s Wells? Don’t tell me he’s disappeared again!”
As if to answer my question there was a rustle in the undergrowth and out he popped, covered in mud.
“I presume by your state, Wells, you applied your own logic and having rejected all possible paths you decided to take the only impassable one.”
“That is not amusing, Mr Urquhart.”
Well I thought it was funny.
However, now we were all assembled we realised we were faced with the next problem. What or who was on the other side of the door? Was it the house or another door to Mars?
--------------------
E.
I do worry why we ladies follow men so blindly sometimes. They seem to have skills in avoiding our argument or reason just when we think we have gained advantage. Though when I have questioned James on this he invariably replies that he only dreams of gaining an advantage over me.
Thankfully when we opened the door and entered we found ourselves in the kitchen. Unfortunately, the relief of finding myself home was short lived when I regarded myself in the reflection of the window. It was difficult to believe that the ragamuffin before me was the same person who, only an hour ago, had arrived in the drawing room wearing the new and expensive dress James had bought me to replace the previous one consigned to charity after our last adventure. However, as I thought this enterprise was not concluded, I resisted the urge to rush upstairs and change into another. For I reasoned that the expense of charging James for two garments in one evening would meet with some argument which I might not be able to convince him was entirely his fault.
As we walked into the hallway I noticed that the house was rather quiet and it was with some trepidation that we entered the drawing room.
The tableau that confronted us was not quite what I had expected.
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Chapter Seventeen
J.
After I had removed all the thorns I could find we entered the drawing room. It was empty, if you did not include my sister lying sprawled across a green silk sofa fast asleep with her head on poor old Ponsonby’s shoulder. To give him his due, he didn’t look very comfortable with this opportunity. When he saw me he immediately got up and straightening his jacket, said, “Excuse me, Mr Urquhart. I hope you do not think I have taken advantage of your sister but it seems my conversation has had a rather soporific effect on her.”
Poor chap. He was so polite.
“Don’t worry, Mr Ponsonby. I think you will find her conversation with the absinthe has caused her predicament.”
“Thank you.” He said, visibly relieved by my answer. “I must say she has a strong constitution for the stuff. I hope you will not think that I led her on, for while she was awake we had the most delightful and interesting discussion.”
“In what way?”
“She claims she came here in a horseless carriage in under half an hour from Chichester and where she lives they have devices that can access all the knowledge of the world.”
“Oh!”
“She then proceeded to show me such a device. It was a small black tablet. But unfortunately, she was unable to operate it. I fear the absinthe may have got the better of her and influenced her thinking.”
As if to answer this, my sister stirred and putting her arms around his legs pulled him involuntarily back onto the sofa and snuggled up close to him again.
With some difficulty, he extricated himself from her as politely as possible then said, “I think Sir, your sister is ready to retire.”
“Agreed. Do you want arms or legs?”
Under Elizabeth’s instruction, to ensure some form of modesty prevailed, we proceeded to carry Jill up to her bedroom where, having laid her on the bed, Elizabeth said, “I will put her to bed, gentlemen if you don’t mind.”
We didn’t and left her to it.
After about half an hour, when I was nearly dozing off, Elizabeth came into our room.
“How is she?”
“I would not wish to have her head in the morning.”
“Nor me. Do you think Ponsonby will recover? He seems such a nice man.”
“I am sure he will. Though he may wonder what family I have married into. Now move over so I can have your warm patch. That infernal garden has given me a chill.”
She undressed, got into bed and snuggled up close. “What a day. How is your foot?”
“I’ve suddenly forgotten all about it.”
------------------------
E.
The next morning before we assembled for breakfast, James and I explored the house and the kitchen garden to try to convince ourselves that the night before was just a terrible dream caused by the absinthe. We decided to try the garden first as James said he needed the air. Presuming he had drunk to excess I teased him a little but he replied that he had kept his measure but stupidly shared a cigar with Eddie before retiring. He was convinced that after his first and last inhalation of the weed, his lungs had collapsed and he feared they would never recover unless he convalesced by the sea for at least a year. I said, with little sympathy, that I also hoped the weed had caused an amnesia of any gems he might have gathered regarding Eddie and me.
The smile he gave me in reply was not reassuring.
When we entered the garden, the muddy trail across the cabbage patch and the broken blackberries leading to the door quickly convinced us that the previous evening’s experiences were not the result of befuddled minds. However, everything in the house gratifyingly seemed to be in its place until we turned the corner towards the Conservatory.
It was not there! Instead, we were confronted with a smoothly sculptured, chalk-white, earthen concave floor open to the sky.
“My God! Part of the house has been uprooted James! How did we survive?”
“With luck.” He said, looking as shocked as me. “We could’ve been standing in the doorway and split in half. God, I feel a bit dizzy thinking about it. Let’s go have some breakfast. I think I can force a slice of toast down me.”
Mr and Mrs Wells were in the parlour drinking tea, having had their breakfast.
“I trust you have all recovered from last night?” inquired Mr Wells, who had a large red scratch on his cheek.
“Yes, thank you.” James said. But my mind was elsewhere for Jill and Eddie were not present. As I thought of how to introduce the topic of their whereabouts as delicately as possible, without showing any residual affection for Eddie, and trying to remember that Jill was my best friend, I was, as usual in this area, pre-empted by James.
“So, where are the two love-birds? Don’t tell me wily old Ponsonby sneaked back upstairs for a bit of the old ‘how’s your father’?”
My best description for Mrs Wells’ reaction to this statement was that she threw a fit. “How dare you, Mr Urquhart? Your remark is entirely unfounded and a slur on Captain Ponsonby who is an upright and honourable man.”
“I’m sure he is - in the barracks with his mates.”
“I will ignore that. For your information, Captain Ponsonby left last night by horse, kindly lent by your wife’s father. I am sure you will find your sister is as virtuous now as when she arrived.”
“On that point I cannot but agree, Mrs Wells.” said James, spluttering out a mouthful of toast.
And then as if on cue, the topic of conversation arrived in the parlour, still in my nightdress, and clutching her head.
“Could someone draw the curtains? That sun is blinding.”
James dutifully half closed the curtains. “How you doing, Sis?”
“As well as can be expected. How’s Ponsonby? I vaguely remember him holding on to my legs for some reason.”
“He was helping me carry you upstairs.”
“What? Oh dear. I’ve done it again. Wait! He’s not still in my bed, is he? I didn’t look.”
“No. He went home last night. You’ll be pleased to know that your virtue is still intact.”
“Thank God! I didn’t want to find I’d woken up with one of Elizabeth’s ex-boyfriends. Oh! Hello, Elizabeth. Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”
“It is of no consequence. I do not have any claim over him.” I said, hoping the colour I felt on my face was not noticed as I wondered what intimate details regarding my past had been discussed between them.
Luckily, at this point, Mrs Wells rose from the table in a huff and left the room, leaving us with Mr Wells who was studiously regarding the remains of his poached eggs.
“What’s wrong with her?” said Jill, trying to pour a cup of tea with a rather shaky hand.
“Her husband has run off with some woman. Remember?” said James, completely missing the reason for Mrs Wells’ sudden departure from the parlour.
“Gosh! Did you run off with her as well, Mr Wells, you naughty boy. Who is she?” said Jill waving her spoon in his general direction.
I will not record the conversation that followed but suffice to say that James, after a few words from me, did sterling work in bringing his sister back on to the track and mollifying Mr Wells.
----------------------
J.
Once I’d been reminded and agreed that the mix up on who was who, and who did what, was all my fault, a fragile peace was restored.
“So, what happened last night, Wells?” I asked, trying to get back onto a safer ground.
“It was as you suggested. Part of space snapped and catapulted a portion of the house back to Mars.”
“OK.” I said, not getting anywhere as usual, “Let’s try another tack. We know this house exists but where, actually, is it?”
“It is here.”
“Yes. We know that, Wells. But where is ‘here’?”
“It is not anywhere. You cannot point to a place in our Universe where it exists.”
“But we’re standing in it!” said Jill, “Look!” And to prove her point banged the wall with her fist.
“That does not prove that it is here in Sussex.” said Wells.
“As long as Sussex is outside when I leave, that’ll be good enough for me,” she said.
“But is the remains of this house still in 1895?” said Elizabeth.
“I’ll check the internet.” I said, “Looks like it. No signal whatsoever.”
“What about the conservatory?”
“Let’s have a look.”
We all rose. Some more shakily than others and trooped off to the door leading to the conservatory. On opening, it looked out onto the chalk-white ground, just as we had found when outside. Jill stared open-mouthed at us all. I tried my phone.
“Nothing. Though that doesn’t mean time hasn’t changed here.”
“God! What about the car, Jim?” said Jill, “How are we going to get home? I can barely crawl to the front door.”
We went back through the house to the front door and looked out. No car to be seen.
“But we came in by the garden.” said Elizabeth. “Remember on that previous occasion when depending on which door we left or entered, time changed?”
“This is getting like Heinlein’s ‘Crooked House’,” I said.
“Where is that?” said Elizabeth.
“It’s a fictional story about a bloke who tried to build a four-dimensional house and it kept on collapsing and reforming in other dimensions. I think he and the house eventually disappeared.”
I suddenly realised what I’d said and by the expression on the others’ faces they had had the same idea. Jill got in first.
“Get out of this house! Run!” And we followed her. As we ran through
the kitchen, Lilly, who was washing up and humming a tune was quite surprised when Elizabeth grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the garden with us.
Avoiding the brambles this time, we all ran around to the front where I was relieved to find my car.
“Thank God for that,” said Jill and sat down on the porch step nursing her head.
“I think we should go home now before another anomaly occurs.” said Elizabeth.
“Yes,” I said, “But just a minute! Where’s Wells?”
“Did he not come out of the house?” said Elizabeth.
“I wasn’t watching,” I said. “Did you see him, Lilly?”
But she wasn’t listening. She was looking at my car.
“Is this your carriage, Mr Urquhart?”
I couldn’t lie. It was fifteen-foot-long, green and nothing like a Victorian carriage. “Yes,” I said.
“How do you attach the horses?”
I knew that was coming.
“It uses a steam engine, Lilly. A state of the art device which James has designed and built for me,” said Elizabeth.
“Well I never, Lizzy! What is the world coming to? Can I have a ride, Mr Urquhart?”
“We are pressed for time, Lilly,” said Elizabeth.
But I couldn’t let her miss out so I said she could have a go round the courtyard.
Afterwards she said, “Cor, Lizzy! What a catch you have. You look after him. He’ll see you right.”
“I will try to remember that, Lilly.”
“But why were you all rushing out of the house?”
“We are late for an engagement.”
“Then I must not stop you.”
And she turned back and vanished through the garden wall! Literally through the wall as though it wasn’t there.
Elizabeth grabbed my arm “What shall we do? We must go back! My father is in there as well.”
“I’m not going back,” said Jill, “Not if the house is going to collapse.”
I agreed.
“But I cannot leave my father if the house is in danger, James.”
I wish I hadn’t brought up Heinlein. For before I could stop her, she stepped back and vanished through the wall as well!
The Space Between Time (The Time Travel Diaries of James Urquhart and Elizabeth Bicester Book 4) Page 14