Borrowed Vows

by Sandra Heath

  “Yes, I had cottoned on to that,” Kathryn replied a little caustically, and immediately she bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that. I just don’t know what to do. At least, I know what I want to do, but I’m frightened of being back in the past without Dane, and also without everything and everyone I know in the present. I’ll be alone, except for Alice.”

  “But if you stay here, you’ll never see Dane again.”

  “I know that too.” Kathryn stared down at the courtyard. The scent of roses drifted through the open window, and she could hear the seagulls as they wheeled in the warm air above the cathedral tower.

  “I don’t believe you can do without Dane, any more than I can do without Thomas,” Rosalind said simply. “I know what I’m about to say will probably sound like another attempt to persuade you to do as I wish, but it isn’t, it’s a statement of fact. You’ll be wretched for the rest of your life if you’re parted from him, and that applies as much to staying in the present as returning to the past. Either way, without him you’ll be unutterably miserable.”

  Kathryn knew she was right. “And if I stay here in the present, I’m guaranteed not to see him again, right?” she said, still gazing down into the courtyard.

  “Yes, but if you return ...”

  “I stand a chance.”

  Rosalind fell silent.

  Kathryn raised her gaze toward the cathedral, and smiled a little wryly. There wasn’t really a choice after all. Hope was only on offer if she returned to the past. “I have to go back,” she said quietly.

  Rosalind’s breath caught. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not sure about anything, but I’m going back anyway. I want Dane—no, that’s not right, I need Dane. I don’t think I can live without him.” Kathryn turned, and with a start found herself looking at...Kathryn Vansomeren! Rosalind and she had changed places again. She, Kathryn, was now Rosalind forever more.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The two women stared at each other, and then Rosalind hugged Kathryn tightly. “Thank you, thank you so much,” she whispered.

  Kathryn returned the hug, but then felt a perverse desire to laugh. How could anyone explain what had just happened to her? It was an out-of-body, out-of-time experience that was going to last for the rest of her life! She’d just turned her back on everything she’d ever known, and was doing it for a man from another century who might not even want her anymore! It was crazy, but she knew it was the right decision.

  Rosalind drew back, and then took her hands. “We’ll always remember this moment, no matter how different our centuries.”

  “I hope so.” Then Kathryn remembered something. “Your wedding ring!”

  Rosalind looked blank for a moment, and then gasped. “I quite forgot! I was in the drawing room thinking about Thomas, and I took it off, just as I do when I’m with him. Then a maid came in to ask me something, and the ring slipped my mind completely. It must still be on the table by the glass-fronted cabinet.”

  “So you didn’t take it off as some sort of grand gesture that your marriage to Dane was over?” Kathryn asked.

  “No, I wouldn’t do that, for I know it would only make it even more difficult for you to win Dane’s trust again. He’d interpret its absence like you just did. I was guilty of trying to make you stay in the past with him, but not of wanting to make things impossible for you as well! I’m not that selfish.”

  Kathryn smiled. So Alice had been wrong this time. She glanced down at the waiting car. “You were about to leave, so I guess there’s nothing to keep you now.”

  “I’m ashamed of how pushy I’ve been. I just figured if I forced the pace, I’d somehow evade all chance of being sent back to the past,” Rosalind admitted. “I’ve even booked a hotel room for tonight, ready for the nine o’clock flight in the morning.”

  “Well, I’d say remember me to Richard, but I don’t really think that would be right,” Kathryn said with a smile.

  Rosalind smiled too. “Probably not.”

  Kathryn searched her eyes then. “You know, it’s not just Richard you’re going to, there’s my career as well. You’ll have dear Diane Weinburger to deal with.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “You won’t?”

  Rosalind smiled. “I’m going to give it up. I just want to be a wife and mother.”

  “Well, Richard will be delighted,” Kathryn said, “but will you be satisfied?”

  Rosalind laughed then. “Why should I not be? Kathryn, you’ve chosen to go back in time to become Lady Marchwood. What career satisfaction is there in that? It’s hardly the role of an emancipated woman, but it’s what you want. We’ve both made our choices because we know in our hearts what’s best for us, and that’s all that matters.”

  “I guess you’re right, I’m still having trouble getting to grips with all this.” Kathryn looked a little wickedly at her then. “Are you really going to give up my career?”

  “My career. Yes, I am,” Rosalind corrected with a grin, but her curiosity was aroused. “What’s on your mind? I know there’s something, I can tell by your voice.”

  “Oh, just a small matter of telling Diane Weinburger what she can go do. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve wanted to say exactly what I think of her, but I’ve chickened out. But if you’re going to leave anyway ... ?” Kathryn raised a hopeful eyebrow.

  Rosalind grinned. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure. I’ll wipe the floor with her.”

  “In front of everyone! Please say you’ll do it in front of the entire office!” Kathryn begged mercilessly.

  “You have my word on it.”

  “God, I almost wish I could be there.” Kathryn smiled. “Almost, but not quite.”

  They looked at each other then, and after a moment Rosalind glanced out of the window at the waiting car. “Well, I guess it’s good-bye, then.”

  Kathryn hesitated, and then hugged her a last time. “Take care.”

  “And you,” Rosalind replied, returning the hug.

  They held each other for a long moment, both conscious of the uniqueness of their situation. Everything that had happened to them was so wildly improbable that even now it seemed almost like a dream, except they both knew this parting was definitely for real. They’d swapped places, swapped lives, swapped times, and, above all, swapped husbands, but only they knew about it. And Alice, of course.

  Then Rosalind had gone. Kathryn heard her light steps on the staircase, and a moment later the car door slammed. She went to the window to watch as it reversed down the alley, and caught a last glimpse of Rosalind’s face before she drove off. No, of Kathryn Vansomeren’s face before she drove off.

  A chill finger suddenly passed down her spine as she realized she’d never see her own face again. Because it wasn’t her face any longer, it belonged to Rosalind. She turned from the window. It was done. She’d made the irrevocable decision, but as yet she was neither one thing nor the other. She was in no-man’s-land, a helpless limbo of total dependence upon the fading skills of an old woman whose powers would end completely at the first stroke of Lammas Day, 1815!

  So, at least she knew the final transition would have to take place before midnight, but that was all she knew. Maybe it would happen within the next few minutes, maybe not until the witching hour itself. So she glanced around the apartment, committing everything modern to memory because she’d never see it again. Never see a TV, a phone, or a refrigerator. Never enjoy the New York skyline, never drive on a freeway, or go to the movies. And now it would be Rosalind who told Diane Weinburger where to go, because the real Kathryn Vansomeren had opted for the past— for silk and muslin gowns, carriages, servants, and Sir Dane Marchwood. Her pulse had quickened expectantly. Hurry up, Alice. I’m frightened here on my own, and want to go back now!

  But the minutes dragged on, and nothing happened. She remained in the future in her Regency guise. She began to pace restlessly up and down, glancing frequently at the time and gradually becoming a
nxious. What if for some reason Alice couldn’t take her back? What if she was stuck here like this instead? Oh, God, that didn’t bear thinking about.

  Another hour passed, and still there was nothing. She couldn’t pace any longer, and so lay on the bed. The day was warm, and the sounds of Gloucester drowsy with summer heat. She closed her eyes, not expecting to drift into sleep, but she did, and when she awoke, it was dark.

  Her eyes flew open with a start, and for a moment she hoped she was back in 1815, but then she heard a truck in the street. She was still in the future! She glanced at the clock radio. It was a quarter to midnight! What was Alice playing at? Soon it would be too late! As she lay wondering what to do, she heard footsteps on the stairs, and then Jack’s voice.

  “As I was saying, you’re very fortunate there’s any accommodation free at the moment, let alone at this time of night. Mrs. Vansomeren had the apartment for a fortnight, and had only been here a day or so, but all of a sudden she upped and went home. If you ask me, it was something to do with the roses her husband sent.”

  “Oh, really?” a bored male American voice replied.

  “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll like the rooms. Now then, let me sort out the keys.”

  The footsteps halted the other side of the door, and then Kathryn heard more people on the stairs. Children laughed, and a woman scolded them.

  “Can’t you make less noise? I have a headache.”

  A key rattled in the lock, and Kathryn scrambled from the bed. God, what was she to do? If they saw her in these clothes they’d think she was some weirdo who fancied herself as Lady Hamilton or the Empress Josephine! She had to hide—but where? All she could think of was under the bed, and she wriggled beneath it just as the outer door opened and the lights were switched on.

  Jack conducted the newcomers into the apartment. There was a man and woman and two children, a boy and a younger girl. Jack stood back for them to admire the accommodation. “It was all done about a year ago, to the highest standards, of course, and as I said, it’s available for almost two weeks.”

  “We can’t stay that long, seven days will be just fine. We just need to finish our vacation, but not in the so-called luxury cottage we’d booked,” the woman said, running her finger along the window ledge and inspecting it for dust. She was in her early thirties, with long dark hair and a pale, rather pretty face. By her accent, Kathryn guessed she came from somewhere down New Orleans way.

  Jack cleared his throat. “Cottage not up to scratch, eh?”

  “You could say that. There wasn’t a shower, and I never take a bath anywhere except my own home,” the woman replied emphatically.

  “Well, there’s a shower here,” Jack said quickly.

  “What price are we talking?” the man asked. He was a little older than the woman, and definitely New Orleans. Something about him told of the workaholic executive who’d come only grudgingly on the annual family vacation. He had brown hair, gray at the temples, and didn’t look relaxed in casual clothes.

  Jack began to list the charges, but his voice was drowned by the children as they ran noisily from room to room, switching on every light they could find. Their mother called complainingly after them.

  “Bridget! Patrick! Try to make less noise! Don’t you guys listen to anything I say?”

  Clearly not, for they shouted excitedly to each other as they investigated every nook and cranny. The woman sighed. “God, will I be glad to hit the sack tonight,” she muttered.

  The bedroom where Kathryn was hiding had so far escaped the children’s attention, but she knew it would only be seconds before one or other of them burst in. She pulled back as far as she could beneath the bed, but was only too aware that even if she somehow escaped detection now, she couldn’t stay where she was forever. Sooner or later she had to come out.

  “Come on, Alice, do your stuff!” she whispered, then fell silent as the bedroom light was suddenly switched on. The girl ran in, flung herself on the bed, and began to bounce up and down as energetically as she could.

  Then the bouncing stopped, and Kathryn turned her head to watch as the child’s feet swung down to the floor again. To her horror she realized a beneath-the-bed inspection was about to commence. Go away, you horrid brat! But the horrid brat got down on all fours and peered under the valance.

  The girl’s breath caught with shock as she found herself looking at Kathryn, and with a frightened gasp she scrambled away. “Mom! Hey, Mom, there’s someone under the bed!” she screamed, and ran from the room.

  Kathryn didn’t know whether to stay where she was, or get up to face the music. She decided the latter was more dignified, but as she tried to move, she found she couldn’t. Her muscles seemed to have lost all their strength, and no matter how hard she tried, they wouldn’t obey her.

  The girl returned with everyone else, and the room seemed to be filled with feet. The man knelt down and looked under the bed. He stared directly at Kathryn, but didn’t seem to see her, for he straightened a little crossly.

  “Aw, come on, Bridget, there’s no one there!”

  “But, there was! I saw her!” the girl wailed.

  Then Jack knelt down and looked as well. His gaze went through Kathryn, and then he too straightened. “Reckon it was one of our friendly ghosts, my dear,” he said reassuringly to the girl.

  The boy gave a gasp of interest. “Gee, are there ghosts here?’ he asked.

  “Oh, yes. I especially recall a little old bright-eyed lady with a shawl and a walking stick. Some say she lived here a long time ago...”

  Alice! Jack had seen Alice, Kathryn thought, but as she listened to hear more, she realized his voice was becoming more and more distant. Everything began to slowly revolve, and the light in the bedroom seemed to be slipping away, as if she were falling into a deep, dark well. Fear gripped her, for if this was her final journey into the past, it didn’t feel at all right.

  She continued her endless fall, spinning and tumbling through a frightening darkness that didn’t seem to have any end. Why was it so different this time? Had something gone dreadfully wrong?

  Suddenly the terrifying fall ended. There was a sickening jolt and then nothing, just silence, and a cocoon-like impenetrable blackness. Her senses reeled so unpleasantly that for a moment or so it was all she could do not to throw up. But then the dizziness began gradually to recede, and her eyes became accustomed to the darkness.

  She smiled, for she was standing in the great hall at Marchwood.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Kathryn was standing next to the fireplace that was under repair, and could smell soot and disturbed stonework. There was dust beneath her feet as she turned to glance around the hall.

  Pale moonlight shone across the table down the center of the floor, picking out the arrangement of flowers and making them seem almost ethereal. Her eyes went to the half-landing, but even on canvas Dane now seemed cold and unapproachable. She wished Alice were with her now, but somehow knew the old woman was still in her cottage in Gloucester.

  “You’re on your own now, honey,” she murmured to herself, and a soft echo picked up the sound. Honey ... honey ... honey ...

  She shivered. How eerie it was. There was no sign of anyone, not even a servant slipping quietly about some late task. The castle was silent as the grave. She bit her lip then, for that wasn’t a metaphor she much cared for right now. Drawing herself up sharply, she put such thoughts from her mind. She had things to do, starting with retrieving the wedding ring and then trying to speak to Dane, although whether or not he’d be even remotely prepared to listen remained to be seen.

  Gathering her skirts, she picked her way over the dust by the fireplace, and then walked toward the staircase. On the half-landing, she paused to touch the portrait, tracing the outline of the painted lips with her fingertip, but then there was a step at the top of the staircase and she looked swiftly up.

  Dane stood there. He’d discarded his coat and neckcloth, and his shirt was undone to the waist. H
is face was as cold as it had been when last she’d seen him, and as he descended slowly toward her she realized that the glass of cognac in his hand was not his first.

  He halted a few steps above the landing, his scornful glance sweeping over her disheveled appearance. “So, my lady chooses to return, but where has she been, that is the question? Such disarray suggests she may have been rolling in the hay. With Denham, no doubt. Or wasn’t he to hand? Possibly she settled for a groom, or maybe even some rough laborer. Anyone will do, eh, Rosalind?” The echo picked up his words, so his voice seemed to come at her from all sides.

  “Don’t say such things, Dane, for they aren’t true.”

  “Very well, I take some of it back. Only Denham will do, that’s the truth.” As he reached the half-landing, he swirled the cognac and then drank it all.

  “Is cognac wise if you’re to fight a duel?”

  “How tender of you to inquire, but I’m sure your interest is born of the hope that I’ll be senseless come dawn.”

  “If that were so, I wouldn’t say anything,” she replied. His cold loathing touched her like frost, and his eyes were those of a stranger. She wanted to fling herself before him and beg him to believe in her innocence. Then she wanted to hold out her hand and have him draw her to her feet and into his arms. But she knew he’d only spurn her with even more abhorrence than he showed now. He didn’t merely think she was unfaithful, he knew it. To him, her guilt was proven beyond all shadow of doubt.

  He put the empty glass on top of one of the newel posts. “Why have you come here? I would have thought Denham Hall a more appropriate residence from now on.”

  “This is my home.”

  “Is it indeed?” He raised a coldly amused eyebrow. “Well, I’m afraid that is no longer so, madam. You’re soiled goods now, and Denham soiled you. There’s no place for you here, and I expect you to be gone before morning light. Go to your lover. He can take care of you from now on, provided, that is, he lives long enough to carry out his obligations.”