Anne Barbour

by Step in Time

  “Miss! Oh, miss, it is you! Wherever are you going?”

  “Hutchings!” gasped Amanda. Good Lord, she had sent her maid off to bed hours ago. What the devil was she doing out and about at this hour? A glance at the figure who appeared behind her from the steps leading down from the sidewalk, that of the second footman, if she was not mistaken, answered her question.

  “Good evening, Hutchings,” she said in what she hoped was a tone of regal dismissal. “I have come out to, er, take the air. My headache, you know.”

  “But surely not alone, miss.”

  “Yes, alone. You may go back to—whatever you were doing.”

  “But, where are you going?” asked Hutchings in appalled accents.

  “To Gr—never mind, Hutchings. I wish to be alone.”

  The little maid began whimpering. “Oh, no—you’re going to Grosvenor Chapel, aren’t you? And at this hour! Surely you’re not—Oh, dear heaven, I saw you talking to that wretched Mr. Satterleigh earlier. You—you’re planning another elopement aren’t you?” At this, she began shrieking in earnest, her apron flung over her head.

  “Hutchings! Will you shut up?” Amanda frantically clutched at the young woman’s arm. “I am not eloping.” She continued in a softer tone as the maid’s sobs subsided. “Now, please leave me alone. If you don’t,” she added in minatory accents, “you will find yourself dismissed without a character in the morning.”

  “Oh, miss, you wouldn’t!”

  “Try me,” Amanda replied tersely, and with this she walked away, leaving Hutchings moaning into her apron.

  She arrived at the chapel with minutes to spare. At midnight. the evening’s activities in Mayfair were just getting under way, and the streets were crowded with elegant carriages carrying passengers to the various social functions that were taking place that night in the equally elegant town houses of the area. Unnoticed, Amanda crouched on the steps of the building, hidden in the shadow of its columns.

  Promptly on the stroke of midnight, a figure approached, bearing a lantern and a watchman’s rattle. “ ‘Evenin’, miss,’ ” he said jovially. “Fine night tonight.”

  “Yes,” said Amanda, drawing in her skirts. Then she took a closer look. Sure enough, the man wore spectacles and his cheeks protruded round and hard from beneath them. Amanda leaped to her feet. “You have come!” she exclaimed.

  The man lifted bushy eyebrows in mild surprise. “Toljer I would, didn’t I then?”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied, abashed. “But—who are you, anyway? Are you the same person in disguise, or many people— or what?”

  “Yes,” the man responded, rummaging in a capacious pocket.

  “Yes, what? Which?”

  “Both. One and many.” He shook his head irritably. “Don’t mean t’be teedjis, but you wouldn’t understand if I explained it.” He drew a key from his pocket. “Are you coming, then?”

  Amanda moved to his side and he opened one of the chapel doors. Once inside, he led her to the seat where she had emerged into that sunny April morning two months earlier. Settling his bulk beside her, he turned and took her hand.

  “Now,” he began, “you must know that when you leave this time you can’t never return. Amanda Bridge will die this night, and this time there won’t be no one to resurrect her.”

  Amanda drew in a long breath and nodded.

  “You’ll be sent back to the moment you suffered that last, terrible headache, only this time it won’t kill you. You’d best get to a doctor, though, missy, because the next time you’ll die—and it will be permanent. At any rate, when you awake in 1996, everything else will be the same as before.”

  Thus, reflected Amanda sourly, she would be her old self, plain of face and flawed of form—as well as slightly warped of outlook. If it were not for the impossibility of remaining in the same plane of time with Ash, she would gladly put up with London’s pollution and all the other ills, social, moral, and physical, of this time period, for the chance to live the rest of her life in the whole body she had been given. She shook herself. No, it would be too painful to exist here in such close proximity to him. Besides, having determined to break off their betrothal, what better way to accomplish the matter than by Amanda Bridge’s death?

  Dear God, she simply could not think about this anymore. The weight of her grief pressed on her like a stone. Lifting her head, she said in a clear voice, “I understand everything you have told me. I am ready now.”

  The watchman, his expression troubled, replied, “Very well, then. Hold both of my hands tightly, and close your eyes.”

  Amanda glanced around, listening to the dark silence that seemed to fill not only the little church, but her soul as well. Blinking away the tears that blinded her, she closed her eyes.

  * * * *

  One of the first guests to arrive that evening at Wiltsham House was the Earl of Ashindon. Barely pausing to greet his host and hostess, he prowled one chamber after another, searching for Amanda. It was not for another two hours that he finally spotted the feathers of Serena’s elaborate headdress bobbing above the crowd.

  “What do you mean, she isn’t here?” he snapped at her reply to his question.

  “The poor child is at home with a headache. A very bad one, I’m afraid. I left her just getting ready for bed. I’m sure, though,” she added brightly, “that she will be better in the morning. Perhaps you could call then, my lord.”

  Ash uttered a choked reply and swung away from her. A few moments later, he stood on the sidewalk in front of Wiltsham House, his fists clenched. How was he going to contain himself until tomorrow morning, for God’s sake? Everything in him screamed for him to go to Amanda, to apologize for the wrong he had done her and to tell her of his love for her. Setting off for the Bridge house right now to wake her from a sound sleep was probably insane, and she would probably have him thrown out of the house. Attempt to have him thrown out of the house, he amended, his fists clenched.

  Clambering into his curricle and directing his tiger to hang on, he clattered off in the direction of Upper Brook Street. He had covered less than half the distance when he was obliged to jerk back on the reins in order to avoid running over a small figure just crossing Davies Street. To his astonishment, when the frightened young woman looked up, to be caught in the light of a street lamp, he recognized Amanda’s maid.

  “Lord Ashindon!” she cried, lifting her arms in distress. “Oh, thank God. I was just coming to find you, my lord!”

  “What is it, Hutchings?” he exclaimed, bringing his vehicle to a halt. “What has happened?” He lifted the young woman into the curricle.

  “It’s Miss Bridge, my lord. She’s gone off again, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t tell her mama or papa or—”

  “Yes, yes,” said Ash impatiently. “Now, stop crying. There’s a good girl. Tell me what’s toward.”

  “I just told you, my lord. Miss Bridge has gone off, and I’m afraid she’s eloping with that wretched Cosmo Satterleigh. I saw them talking today and—” She broke off, burying her face in her apron.

  “What makes you think she’s eloping?” asked Ash through clenched teeth.

  “Why, what else would she be doing?” responded Hutchings. “Him and her was talking earlier—just outside your grandma’s house. She’s on her way to Grosvenor Chapel this very minute to meet him.”

  Good God, thought Ash. This could not be happening. He would have been willing to wager all he owned that Amanda was no longer in Satterleigh’s avaricious thrall. “Did she tell you that’s what she was going to do?”

  “N-no. In fact, she said she hadn’t any intention of eloping with him, but—what else would she be doing in Grosvenor Chapel?” asked Hutchings again. “At this time of night,” she added severely.

  Grosvenor Chapel. Something stirred in Ash’s brain. Something alarming and unpleasant. He thought back to the morning he had found her there, lying still as death. Yes, she had gone there on that occasion to elope with Satterleigh,
but she had said it was also the scene of her transference from the twentieth to the nineteenth century. He was chilled, suddenly, to the marrow of his bones. Amanda had mentioned returning to her own time. Was that what she was doing right now?

  Dear God, please—No. He couldn’t lose her! Not like this. Not when he hadn’t even told her that he loved her.

  He urged his horses to a speed such as he had never used in the city before, and within minutes he pulled up before Grosvenor Chapel. He leaped from the curricle and with a gesture restrained Hutchings and his tiger from leaving the vehicle. “No, you wait here,” he said tersely.

  The church door swung open at his touch, and once within he was directed immediately to the spot where a lantern glowed fitfully. Yes, there she was! But who was that with her? By God, if—But, no, the figure who crouched in the pew beside her was much too bulky to be Cosmo Satterleigh. To his astonishment, when he reached Amanda he saw that her companion was—a Charlie, for God’s sake!

  Amanda whirled at his approach and stood abruptly, just as she had that other time. Now, however, she remained upright, staring at him as though at a demon with horns and a tail.

  “Ash! What are you—?” She swayed then, and catching her in his arms, he eased her back into the pew. He lifted his gaze to the Charlie, who displayed a gap-toothed smile.

  “Don’t mind me, gov’ner. I’ll just be waitin’ over yonder.” He rose and shuffled into the shadows in the other side of the church.

  “No!” exclaimed Amanda. “Don’t go! You—I must—” But the portly figure had already disappeared into the darkness.

  “Amanda, thank God I found you in time. Were you—were you going back to—?”

  “Yes, Ash. I’m sorry you came because this is something I must do, and I had hoped to leave without any further—unpleasantness between us.”

  “But you can’t, Amanda. That’s why I came. To apologize for the things I said to you this morning. My dearest love, I have behaved very stupidly, but I hope you will forgive what I said. I didn’t mean them. I seem to have a great deal more pride than is good for me.”

  Amanda smiled faintly. “Yes, I guess you could say that. But don’t you see, Ash—?” she stopped suddenly. “What did you call me?”

  Ash gathered her closer to him. “My dearest love,” he answered softly. “It took me a long time to realize that, and—”

  Amanda sat bolt upright. “But I’m not your dearest love.” Her heart was pounding painfully. “Lianne is your love, and with me gone, you will be able to return to her. You have enough money now, so that—”

  “My God, do you think I am concerned with nothing but money? Having the money is good, but don’t you see, without you, restoring the Park—and all the rest—doesn’t mean a damn. As for loving Lianne—” He slid an arm about her shoulders and began pressing small, soft kisses against her hair, her forehead, and her cheeks. “Contrary to popular opinion, my own included, I never really loved her at all. My feeling for her was a boy’s infatuation to which I clung stubbornly far into the time when I should have outgrown it.”

  “But—today—” Amanda was conscious of a treacherous surge of hope rising within her. “You and she were—kissing.”

  “Anything you saw, my dearest love, was an expression of friendship. I will always love Lianne as one would a cherished childhood memory. She will always be my friend, and, I hope, yours, too. The occasion for the buss on the cheek was her betrothal to one Reggie Smythe-Wolverton.”

  “Oh.” The hope rose higher, despite Amanda’s best effort to quash it, until she could almost feel it lapping at her heart. She dared not believe that Ash did not love Lianne. Even less could she allow herself to believe that he loved her. She wanted it too much, and it had been her experience far too many times that what one wanted most in life was the least likely to be granted.

  “What?” she whispered, aware that Ash was speaking again.

  “I was just wondering if we could shelve the subject of Lianne for the moment. I would much rather talk about us.”

  Amanda’s throat tightened painfully. “There is no ‘us,’ Ash. We agreed to a marriage of convenience, and I do not think I could bear that.”

  “Nor I, love.” His fingers stroked her cheek, creating swirls of wanting in places within her that she had not even known existed. “I realize our relationship has been—well, stormy—up till now. For so long I thought you a beautiful nonentity, and when I discovered you were something quite different, I didn’t know how to change my perceptions.” He smiled wryly. “It didn’t help to discover that someone quite different turned out to be outrageously independent and irritatingly outspoken. How was I to know that, though I could not fall in love with a lovely wax doll, I’d topple like a tree for an enchanting termagant.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face up to his. His eyes, thought Amanda dazedly, were like mist glinting in a summer dawn. “After the things I have said, and the manner in which I have behaved toward you, I can hardly expect you to fall into my arms.” He laughed shakily. “But, oh, my darling, if you knew how badly I wish for you to do just that.”

  “You don’t think—?” She could hardly form the words. “That I—that I’m a freak?”

  “Oh, my God,” said Ash. “Is that what you—?” His arms tightened about her. “No, my darling, I think you a unique phenomenon, to be treasured and explored and loved.”

  He kissed her cheek, very lightly. Just a butterfly touch, really, but suddenly, something seemed to crack inside Amanda, like a fault line shifting deep within her. In a moment the crack widened into a veritable chasm through which bubbled a stinging warmth that flooded her throat and eyes. He loved her! Really loved her—not the Barbie doll who greeted her each morning in the mirror, but the flawed woman behind the blue eyes and the pink mouth.

  With one hand she traced the line of his jaw and brought his face closer to hers.

  “Oh, Ash. I’ve already fallen—so hard it’s a wonder I’m not covered with bruises.”

  For an instant, Ash paused, and in his eyes the mist vanished, leaving only the warmth of an early morning sun. His mouth came down on hers, urgent and demanding, but with an aching tenderness that drew a shuddering response from her.

  “And you will not leave me, Amanda,” said Ash when he lifted his head at last. “You will marry me and stay with me and live with me and have my babies and—”

  “Yes, to all of the above,” she answered tenderly, and it was a very long time before anything was heard in the little church beyond the rattle of carriages outside and small, throaty murmurings that would have made no sense except to persons in love.

  At last, Amanda glanced around. She peered into the shadows, but saw no sign of the watchman.

  “He is gone then?” asked Ash. “Who was he?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t believe I ever will. It may well be that I shall never see him—her—again.” Pressing one more kiss on Ash’s mouth, she rose. “I think we better take me home now. If Mama and Papa should arrive first—”

  Ash shuddered graphically. “I daren’t consider the consequences. Why, I might be forced to marry you.”

  Amanda laughed. “Aha, you’ve fallen into my trap, you poor man.” Taking Ash’s arm she moved with him down the aisle toward the door.

  “Do you think,” asked Ash after a moment, “that your mama and papa would be amenable to pushing up the wedding date?”

  “You do not wish to wait a year?” Amanda paused and turned to brush her fingertips over his lips. This action, not unnaturally, resulted in another long, sweet kiss, at the end of which Ash spoke unsteadily.

  “I do not wish to wait five minutes, you unprincipled wench. However, I might be willing to compromise. How about next week?”

  “Mm. I’m not sure how these things are done here, but I think a week might be pushing it.” Amanda smiled mistily into his eyes. “But I, too, would like to get an immediate start on those babies.”

  Once mor
e, progress to the church exit halted for some moments.

  “Very well then,” said Ash at last, his voice ragged. “We shall present Ma and Pa Bridge with an ultimatum. They agree to a wedding in a month’s time, or risk the unscheduled and very premature appearance of their first grandchild.” Dropping a kiss on the top of Amanda’s head, he continued. “So, there remains nothing to discuss except our wedding journey. Would you prefer Paris or Rome? Or possibly Vienna?”

  “All of them sound wonderful, but—oh, Ash, I want to go first to Ashindon Park. I can’t wait to begin living there with you. And then I’d like to tour England.” She glanced at him shyly. “I’d like to know more about my newly acquired native land.”

  “Excellent choice. I shall enjoy showing you ‘this green and sceptered isle.’ ”

  “Starting with Chawton, if you please.”

  “Chawton?”

  “Yes, it’s in Hampshire. There’s someone there I’d like very much to meet.”

  Ash lifted his expressive brows, but said only, “Anything you wish, my love.”

  “Actually,” said Amanda with an insouciant grin, “I plan to ensure the solvency of our descendants by purchasing first editions and stashing them in Ashindon Park—starting with Jane Austen. And, let’s see—oh! Charles Dickens is three years old now. We’ll be able to buy up all his stuff for future reference. As for the immediate future, I think we should invest in railroads, and—”

  “I think you have much to teach me, my love,” said Ash, a little startled.

  “Indeed,” said Amanda as the church door swung shut behind them. She raised a misty gaze to Ash. “But not nearly as much as I have already learned from you, my love.”

  “Indeed,” said her betrothed, enfolding her in his arms once more before handing her into the curricle. “And now we shall have all the time in the world to continue both our educations.”

  “All the time in the world,” echoed Amanda softly as the curricle rattled off into the beginning of a new day in Regency London.