by Sandra Heath
“What are you talking about?”
“I will tell you later,” Alice said again.
“To hell with later, I want to know now!”
“No.”
Kathryn drew a long breath and tried to calm down. “Okay, but will you at least tell me about the duel itself? I’ve read what’s in Pendle’s diary, and I don’t believe a word of it. So what really happened?”
Alice paused. “I don’t know.”
Kathryn didn’t believe her. “You mean you don’t intend to tell me that either?” she accused angrily.
Alice shook her head. “That isn’t my reason, my dear. You see, I really don’t know anything that happens after midnight tonight. From the first stroke of Lammas Day, my already dwindling powers will be gone forever.”
Kathryn stared at her. “Oh, come on, how can that be right? You knew about me, and I was way in the future beyond Lammas Day!”
“I can’t explain it, Kathryn. I simply knew you when you came to Gloucester. All I can say is that I recognized in you a kindred spirit. That is how it is, as you yourself will discover when your powers are realized.”
But Kathryn still wasn’t satisfied. “Then how did you know Thomas Denham is going to die tomorrow? Well, answer me that? If you can’t see beyond midnight tonight, how could you possibly know? I only found out about it yesterday, when the guide told me at the castle, but when I saw you by Dane’s portrait, you already knew.”
Alice smiled. “Yes, I knew, because when you were seeing Dane here at Marchwood, Rosalind went into the future and did what you were to do later the same day. She went to the library and read the same things you read. In the few minutes before you and she changed back to your own places again, she told me what she’d discovered.”
So Rosalind, in her guise of Kathryn Vansomeren, was the person Simon the librarian had logged the things out to earlier that day! No wonder Simon the librarian thought she was the same woman come back again. She had been the same woman! Rosalind found out all about the duel, went back to the apartment to think and listen to the radio for a while, and then forgot to switch the latter off when she drove back to Marchwood in time to change places again. Kathryn almost wanted to laugh. But then something struck her. “If Rosalind and I are changing places, what’s she doing right now?”
“She’s trying to speak to your husband.”
“Richard?” Kathryn was puzzled. “Why? Why does she keep contacting him and saying all that stuff about going back early?”
Alice drew a long breath. “You must believe me when I say that now isn’t the time to tell you everything. But when you do learn all there is, I know you’ll understand.”
“Well, I’ll have to take your word for that, won’t I?”
“Yes, and if you wish to see Dane again today, at the sailing of the Lady Marchwood, you must continue to take my word for everything.”
Kathryn drew back a little. “Be there when he finds out about Rosalind and Thomas? Be Rosalind at that moment, is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. It must be so.”
“No! I don’t want that!”
“Then this must be the end of it all, my dear. I will return you to your own time, and you will never see Sir Dane Marchwood again.”
Kathryn closed her eyes. “No, please, I don’t want that either ...”
“I have asked you to trust me, and I ask you again now. I spoke of an audacious plan, and I still believe that plan to be possible. What does your intuition tell you? Should you return to your own time forever? Or will you come back here today to be with Dane when he learns how Rosalind has betrayed him?”
There was no real contest, for Kathryn couldn’t contemplate never seeing him again. “I’ll come back here,” she whispered.
Alice smiled. “Then you must be at the lock gates of Gloucester docks at midday.”
“The lock gates at midday,” Kathryn repeated, but suddenly she was her modern self again, tying on her robe and hurrying to answer a knock at the apartment door.
It was Jack Elmore. “This was delivered yesterday evening, miss,” he said, presenting her with a huge bouquet of her favorite yellow roses.
Startled, and still a little dazed from the suddenness of the change of time, she took the flowers.
He grinned. “I know it’s early, miss, but I knew you were up when I saw you draw the curtains back a short while ago. I’ve an apology to make, for you were out when they came yesterday evening, and I put them in a cool corner to give you on your return, but I clean forgot them. I hope you don’t mind too much. Reckon someone back home misses you.”
“Are you sure they’re for me?” Her wits were so much at sixes and sevens, it was all she could think of saying.
“Well, unless there’s another Mrs. Vansomeren staying here ...” He grinned again. “Go on, take them, for they must have cost your old man a pretty penny to send from America.”
“My old man? Oh, you mean my husband.” She stared at the roses. Yes, they’d be from Richard; he knew how much she adored yellow roses. She’d carried them on their wedding day.
“I didn’t exactly sneak a look at the card, it was just easy to see,” he explained hastily.
She gave him a quick smile. “I don’t mind if you read it, Jack.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then, miss. I’m sorry I didn’t give you them yesterday.”
“It’s okay. Oh, Jack?”
“Miss?”
“How do I get to the docks from here?”
“Oh, there are several ways, miss. My favorite is along by the river. They’re all marked on the Gloucester Docks leaflet. It won’t take you long to get there.”
“Thank you.”
She drew back inside and quickly closed the door again. She still felt as if half of her hadn’t quite made it back from Marchwood, but as she paused to compose herself properly, she began to feel right again.
She looked at the note tucked into the roses. It was brief and loving. Can’t wait for the weekend and your return. All my love. Richard.
Her return? New York and Richard Vansomeren seemed part of a different world, a world that didn’t matter to her now. Dane mattered. Only Dane. Whatever Rosalind told Richard was of no consequence, because the real Kathryn Vansomeren intended to stay here in England until there was nothing left to stay for, and she couldn’t let him go on thinking they were reconciled. She had to call him and set the record straight!
It was the middle of the night in Chicago, but right now she felt it was something urgent, so Richard would have to take the call. But as she put the roses down and went to the phone, suddenly it rang. The moment was so weird that she paused with her hand over the receiver, but then she picked it up.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Vansomeren?” inquired a female British voice.
“Speaking.”
“This is the international operator. I have your Chicago call.”
“My call?”
“Yes. The system’s down at the moment, so calls have to be put through manually. Just one moment, and I’ll connect you.”
Before Kathryn could say anything more, there were some bleeping sounds on the line, and suddenly she heard Richard. “Kathryn? Is that you?”
She couldn’t speak. From wanting to have things out with him, suddenly her tongue seemed to be tied in knots.
“Kathryn? Are you there?”
“Er, yes. Hi, there, Richard.”
“Hi. I gather you tried to call me a short while ago. Don’t think the worst, I wasn’t out on the town, it’s just so hot I couldn’t sleep. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I felt so sticky and darned uncomfortable I decided to take a shower. That’s when you must have called. Did you get the roses?”
There was a new lightness in his voice, a happiness that almost seemed to reach across the miles. He sounded like he had when they first met, as if all the intervening time hadn’t happened.
“Did you get the roses?” he asked again.
“Yes, the
y’re lovely.”
“I know you like yellow best.”
“I didn’t think you remembered.” The moment of truth was slipping inexorably away. She couldn’t bring him down, it would be too cruel. But surely it was more cruel to let him go on thinking everything was fine? Oh, God, she just didn’t know what to do!
He didn’t pick up anything over the line. “Well, I’ve used my patented Brand Philips pooper-scooper to good effect, and there’s no trace of his mess now. Not here in Chicago, anyway. Jeez, that guy makes such elementary mistakes I can’t believe he’s managed to get where he is. The sooner he retires, the better.”
“I couldn’t agree more. You’ve got more talent in your little finger than he’s got in his whole body.”
“Say it again, it’s good for my self-esteem.”
She couldn’t help smiling, for it was great to be able to speak to him like this again. No atmosphere, no constant gibing, just lighthearted good humor. “Okay, you’ve got more talent in your little finger than he’s got in his whole body.”
“Gee, I love it when you talk dirty. I hope you’re going to do that when we’re together.”
“Of course.” That wasn’t what she was supposed to say! She should be telling him how it really was, not letting him go on thinking it was A-OK again!
“Have you arranged your flight yet?” he asked.
“I’m working on it now.”
“I’ll be back in New York later today, so when you know what flight you’re on, just leave a message at home. I’ll be sure to meet you at the airport.”
“Okay.”
“Honey, I love you so much.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “And I love you, Richard.” She did, but not in the way he wanted.
“See you soon.”
“Yes, see you soon.”
There was a click and the line went dead. Slowly she replaced the receiver. “Nice one, Kathryn,” she murmured.
Nice one, indeed. Not only hadn’t she done what she should, but she’d aided and abetted Rosalind in whatever she was playing at!
Chapter Nineteen
Kathryn was nervous as she changed into a fresh shirt to go to the docks. It was half past eleven, and according to Jack it should only take her about five minutes to get there, so she had plenty of time before Alice’s midday deadline. She was just dragging a brush through her hair when the phone rang again.
Hesitantly, she picked it up. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Vansomeren?” said another English voice. Male this time.
“Speaking.”
“This is Mike Devenish at Waverley Travel. It’s about your New York inquiry.”
“Yes?” Rosalind had been busy.
“Well, I’ve managed to get you a seat on the flight you wanted. It leaves at nine, and the ticket will be waiting at Heathrow.”
Kathryn’s mind raced. What flight? When? “Er, nine, did you say?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t quite recall what I asked for now. Which day are we talking about?”
She could feel the surprise at the other end. “Why, tomorrow morning, of course. You were most specific.”
“Oh, yes, I remember now.” She felt foolish, but there hadn’t been any other way of finding out. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Devenish.”
“That’s quite all right. Have a good flight.” He rang off.
Kathryn replaced the receiver and then glanced at the roses. Rosalind was clearly making every arrangement to leave. But why bother? Why go to all these lengths when she knew that in the end she had to return to her own time in the past?
It didn’t make sense, but now wasn’t the moment to think about it too much, not when there was something much more important to be getting on with. Grabbing her shoulder bag, she left for the docks.
As she walked, she glanced through one of the leaflets Jack had given her. Gloucester Docks were being promoted as a great day out, providing leisure trips, museums, restaurants, pubs, hotels, a mall, and the occasional extra attraction of the tall ships of yesteryear. Jack had told her there was a small fleet of them in the basin now, and Kathryn caught sight of the masts as she hurried along the sidewalk above the Severn.
The river tide was high and the water muddy as it slid silently past the city, and on the far bank cattle and sheep grazed on the rich flood meadows. Directly ahead she could see the lock and its adjacent keeper’s cottage, and beyond them the uniform red-brick Victorian warehouses around the dock basin. It was a scene plucked from the 19th century, its authenticity increased by the spars and rigging of the tall ships.
Crowds of people were enjoying the sunny weather and occasion. Apart from all the attractions of which she already knew, there was a fairground, with carousels and a big wheel, and a Scottish pipe band was playing in honor of one of the vessels, a clipper named the Pride of Edinburgh. Various small craft glided across the shining water, passing to and fro between the assembled sailing ships, and every quayside mooring was occupied by motor launches or colorful canal narrow boats. Pleasure trips could be enjoyed at a reasonable price, and there was a restaurant in an old ship that had been converted for the purpose. People sat at tables on the deck, shaded from the late-morning sun by an elegant awning, and there were more people outside the adjacent quayside pub. A traveling company of entertainers, acrobats, mimes, and jugglers drew gasps and applause from onlookers, and children squealed with laughter at a Punch and Judy show.
Flags and bunting fluttered in the light breeze as the town crier’s bell rang out for him to announce other forthcoming events. For a moment Kathryn’s steps faltered. The town crier? Had she returned to 1815? But as she looked at the man in his bright red coat, three-cornered hat, and yellow wig, she realized he was very much from the modern day.
Following Alice’s instructions, she made her way to the lock that connected the dock basin and the river. The warehouse to her left had been modernized and converted into the headquarters of the local council, while to her right, across the lock, another was now an antiques center. She could see the tall ships more clearly now. One or two were genuine old vessels, but others were replicas, among which numbered Columbus’s Santa Maria, Drake’s Golden Hind, Captain Cook’s Endeavor, and Darwin’s Beagle. All teemed with visitors.
Two private launches were in the lock waiting for the water to reach river level so they could sail upstream toward the next town of Tewkesbury. Even now, very few dared to attempt the dangerous downstream navigation toward the estuary, for the Severn tides were still as unpredictable and savage as they’d always been.
A small crowd had gathered to watch the launches’ progress, and Kathryn glanced at her watch as she joined them. It was almost midday. Her heart began to quicken expectantly as she willed the seconds away. But her excitement this time was tempered with unease, for she knew that what lay ahead today had nothing to do with pleasure. She couldn’t do anything but participate in events that were beyond her control, but soon Alice would explain everything. What would that explanation entail? What could the “audacious plan” be? Where Alice was concerned, though, it had to be said that anything was probably possible!
The water in the lock matched that in the river, and the heavy wooden gates were slowly opened to allow the launches out. Kathryn leaned on a rail to watch, but as she did the launches suddenly seemed to meld into one and increase rapidly in size. Rigging and masts soared above her, and pennants streamed in the air as a schooner was hauled stern-first into the lock ready for the water level to be lowered all over again to that of the river. A brass band was playing sea chanties, and she was still caught up in a crowd of people, but now they were all dressed in early nineteenth century fashions. It was 1815 again, and practically the whole of Gloucester had turned out to see the Lady Marchwood leave for the Baltic.
Startled, she stepped back involuntarily, right into the path of one of the sailors hauling the ropes. She gasped, and he apologized. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lady,” he said,
still straining forward with the rope over his shoulder.
“It...it was my fault,” she replied, getting quickly out of his way and then glancing around. All the trappings of the modern city had vanished again, even the warehouses and lock-keeper’s cottage, which were Victorian and therefore built well after 1815. The dock basin was just an open expanse of water edged by a few ramshackle buildings that were clearly only temporary, and some of the embankment was just earth. The unfinished canal being built to bypass the dangerous tidal estuary led away from the south of the basin into natural countryside, and there was a small timber yard between her and the road that skirted the line of the old city walls. Then Regency Gloucester rose against the skyline, a city barely touched by the industrial revolution that was soon to transform everything.
The Lady Marchwood was pristine and elegant, with white decks and gleaming paintwork on her graceful bows and hull, and the press of onlookers on the side of the lock was really quite alarming as everyone jostled for the best position to watch her maiden departure. There was a decorated dais nearby, from where local dignitaries could observe everything in comfort. She and Dane had been with them a moment or so ago, but now she was on her own on the cobbled quay. She didn’t know where Thomas was. But so far all was well between Dane and her, that much she knew. Where was he now? She glanced around again, but still couldn’t see him. Her attention was drawn to the small point of land between the lock and the river, where the lock-keeper’s cottage would stand in future. It was bare now, except for a few willowy bushes, but the Waterloo cannons had been brought from Marchwood to fire a salute when the schooner set sail. Was Dane among the men standing there in readiness? If he was, she couldn’t see him.
The captain cupped his hands to his mouth to shout instructions to the sailors scrambling up the rigging. More crew dashed barefoot along the spotless decks as the vessel was halted for the lock gates behind her to be closed and the water level lowered.
Kathryn watched for a moment, but then a lady and gentleman passed nearby, and she was conscious of the lady’s eyes sweeping enviously over her clothes. It was a pleasant feeling to know a real Regency lady of fashion thought she looked good. Kathryn couldn’t help a little vanity. This time she wore yellow and white, a tight-waisted daffodil silk pelisse over a striped muslin gown, and her hair was hidden beneath a yellow bonnet from the back of which fluttered a gauzy white scarf.