“How did you know about Jane? Was that copiously documented somewhere as well?” Leave it to Hugo to focus on the one thing I didn’t really want to explain.
“No, it wasn’t. I don’t know how I knew about that. I just did. It sort of came to me, but I knew from your reaction that it was true.”
Hugo set down his mug and stood up, going to the window. He stood with his back to me for a few minutes, digesting what I had just told him. I could see the rigid set of his shoulders and the proud way he held his head. He was feeling defiant and angry, and I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to say something to reassure him that I didn’t trick him or lie to him, but it wouldn’t do any good. He had to see that for himself.
Hugo finally turned to face me, his anger under control. “Neve, I bear some of the responsibility for what happened to you, and you have, without question, saved my life. I would have been executed had I been taken into custody, but I simply can’t comprehend any of this. Do people in the twenty-first century routinely travel through time? Has the world really come so far in its exploration of scientific matters or is this some kind of black magic? And if such a thing is possible, can I go back if I wish, and would I return to exactly the same time that I left? Is there a way to navigate, or do you simply show up sometime in the past? You were able to come back three times to the same time period, so you must have controlled it somehow.”
I had to admit that for a man of the seventeenth century, his mind was processing this admirably well and coming back with all the right questions. I’d asked all those questions myself and was no closer to an answer.
“Hugo, the honest answer is that I simply don’t know. There are some theories about ley lines. Points where they intersect are supposed to hold some power, but none of that has actually been proven or put to the test. I’m not aware of navigating through time, but you were on my mind, so it’s possible that I somehow influenced where I wound up, but I strongly doubt it. I wasn’t thinking of you at all when I was taking pictures down in the crypt. If anything, I was wondering about the knight whose tomb I was photographing, so I suppose I should be thankful I didn’t end up joining the Crusades. I couldn’t deal with desert heat,” I said, in a failed attempt at a joke.
“I assume you can go back if you wish, but you will be arrested and taken to the Tower. I couldn’t bear to lose you, Hugo, especially not in the horrific way they executed traitors. You know what would happen to you, don’t you? Hanging or beheading would be a blessing compared to the torture that you would be put through.”
Hugo nodded in acknowledgement. He knew exactly what would be done to him. He would be publicly drawn and quartered, his body parts displayed around London as a warning to others, while his entrails and private parts would be burned in front of him while he died of shock.
Hugo sat down next to me and drew me to him, kissing the top of my head. “You’re not going to lose me, Neve. You deceived me, but you tried to help me in the only way you could, and for that, I’m very grateful. I know that your feelings are genuine, as are mine.”
I breathed a sigh of relief to hear him say that. For a moment, I thought that he might charge right back to the church and return to 1685 to face his fate, partly out of anger, and partly out of some misplaced sense of responsibility. At least he was being sensible.
“What now?” he asked, reading my mind.
“We wait till it gets dark and all the film people have gone, and then we’ll go see Max. He’s a lovely man, Hugo. I think you’ll really get on. There’s such a strong physical resemblance between you, it’s uncanny. I’m sure Max will be happy to help.”
Hugo sat back and studied me for a moment, his mind clearly not accepting my proposal. “Assuming this Max is willing to help me, what type of help are you envisioning? Money? What am I to do here? I have nothing.”
“You have me,” I stated simply. “You will always have me.”
“But why would you want a man who has nothing to offer you? In 1685, I could offer you wealth and position, assuming I lived long enough to marry you. Here, I’m no one.”
“You are actually less than no one,” I corrected him. “In this time, you can’t simply show up somewhere and start a new life. Everything is documented and everyone has certain forms of identification which can be verified at any time. Every person has a National Insurance Number which is unique. Someone with the right access can pull up all your personal information, starting with your birth and continuing to everything you have done since. There’s an electronic trail that every British citizen has. Actually, it’s not just in Britain; it’s all over the world. Governments track every single person who enters and leaves the country in order to protect its citizens.”
“I see,” Hugo said, although I was fairly sure he didn’t.
“So, how can Max Everly help?” he asked again. Perhaps he did see.
“I’m not sure, but he’s your descendant, actually Clarence’s descendant. Perhaps he can think of something. He has plans of standing for Parliament; he knows people.”
“Standing for Parliament?” Hugo asked with interest. “So, Parliament still exists then?”
“Oh, yes. And the monarchy doesn’t have the kind of power it once did. The Queen is more of a figurehead rather than a ruler. She’s a public servant.”
“Remarkable,” Hugo said as he tried to take this in. “So, she doesn’t have the power to dissolve Parliament?”
“No, she doesn’t. No one does.”
**
The next few hours passed in conversation. Now that Hugo had a little time to get his bearings, he was curious about the world he found himself in and eager to learn as much as possible before we left our bolt-hole. I tried to explain television, radio, telephones, satellites, various forms of travel, and anything else that came to mind. And as long as we were talking about progress, Hugo wasn’t asking me any personal questions. I wasn’t ready to explain about Evan or the baby I’d lost. Of course, I didn’t have to tell him, but I felt it would be dishonest to lie about my past. I’d deceived him enough already, so I owed him the truth.
“My head is spinning from all this information,” Hugo announced. “It all feels very theoretical at this point, since I haven’t actually seen any of the devices you spoke of.” Unfortunately, the lodge didn’t have a TV or a telephone. There was a radio, however, so I turned it on and found a station playing pop music, curious to see how Hugo would react.
“What is that noise?” he asked.
“It’s the type of music that’s popular today. You don’t like it?”
Hugo shrugged. “I suppose it takes getting used to, like anything else. Do you like it?”
“I like some of it. There are other kinds of music as well.” I found a station playing a Mozart concerto and watched Hugo relax. This was something he could relate to. He closed his eyes and reclined back, pulling me along with him so that my head rested on his chest. I could hear the beating of his heart, which was a bit erratic. Perhaps he wasn’t as calm as he wanted me to believe.
“Hugo, are you all right?” I asked, worried.
“I honestly couldn’t say,” he answered as he held me closer. “I can go back and await my execution, or I can stay here and feel like a fish out of water for the rest of my days, assuming we find a way for me to stay. I’m not sure which option is more appealing. Now that you are back in your own time, there’s nothing to keep you from leaving me. You are free to do as you please.”
“Do you think that I pretended to love you? I was going to stay with you in a time that’s not my own. I was going to give up everything. Is that what you really believe?” I demanded, outraged that he would think that.
“I don’t know what to believe. You need to give me a little time, Neve. A lot has changed since breakfast,” he added ruefully.
“I know,” I conceded. “Why don’t you take a hot bath? That might relax you. And I’ll see if I can find us some clothes. Arriving at the manor dressed like actors in a play mi
ght not be the best thing.”
“All right.” Hugo got up and walked to the bathroom where he just stared at the tub without turning on the light. “Am I meant to get water from the sink and pour it in here?”
“No. You turn on the taps, like so, and get the water to a temperature you like. Just let it fill the tub, then turn them off. Should I turn on the light?” I asked carefully.
“No. Just leave the door open. The light is too bright.”
I handed Hugo some soap, a fluffy bath towel, and a bottle of shampoo, and left him to his own devices while I went to search the rest of the house. Roland stayed here for days on end, according to Max, so there had to be some clothes left behind, unless everything had been cleaned out after his death. The lodge was pristine, if a little dusty, but judging by the biscuits, tea, and toiletries, it was still in use by someone.
I found what I presumed to be Roland’s bedroom. It was very masculine and devoid of any personal items. I opened up the drawers of the dresser, but found nothing at all. The closet proved to be just as empty. All of Roland’s things had been disposed of. The next bedroom was furnished in much the same style. This wasn’t a place where women stayed, I gathered. This was a masculine domain, filled with stuffed animals and guns. The gun cabinet in the other room was locked, but I could see various firearms through the glass doors. Perhaps someone still came here.
I opened the drawers and was gratified to find a few pairs of briefs, socks, and several T-shirts. Of course, this wouldn’t do any good without trousers, I mused. I pulled open the closet door and grinned. Two pairs of jeans, a tracksuit in navy blue, and a cashmere blazer hung in the closet, as well as several dress shirts. Judging by the style, I thought they might belong to Max. This was a fortuitous find indeed. I left my treasure trove and went to check out the third bedroom, hoping against hope that it belonged to Lady Everly and I might find some feminine attire, but the room was bare. Lady Everly probably hadn’t spent a single night here.
Returning to Max’s room, I undressed and pulled on a pair of briefs before trying on his jeans. They were too tight in the hips and way too long, but they did fit. I put on one of the T-shirts and looked in the mirror. It was odd to feel so confined from the waist down after weeks of wearing nothing beneath my skirts. I could see the outline of my nipples through the thin fabric and suddenly felt terribly self-conscious. It would have to do though; my seventeenth-century gown was a bit over the top. Of course, there were no shoes, so I had to keep my own, which made my outfit even stranger.
I pulled the pins out of my hair and watched it tumble around my shoulders. I hadn’t worn my hair loose except at bedtime, so it was liberating to just let it curl around my face. I stared at my reflection. It was difficult to reconcile the woman I had been only that morning to the one that was staring at me now. I suppose I should have felt more comfortable to be wearing modern clothes, but I felt odd, incomplete somehow, and less feminine.
I turned from the mirror as Hugo walked into the room. His hair was damp from the bath, and the towel was wrapped around his waist in a way that made me wish he’d just take it off. He stared at me for a moment, his head cocked to the side, as if appraising a painting.
“You look different,” he said. “Is that what women wear these days?”
“No, these belong to Max. I couldn’t find anything appropriate. I have some clothes for you. I hope they fit.” I handed Hugo the briefs, socks, jeans and a shirt. He understood what to do with the jeans and shirt, but the underwear and socks left him perplexed.
“You put those on under the breeches,” I explained. “And those go on your feet.”
“Why do I need to put these on under my breeches?” he asked, clearly confused as to the purpose.
“Men wear underwear under their clothes. It’s just more hygienic and keeps things in place.”
Hugo gave me a strange look, but obediently dropped his towel and pulled on the underwear and socks, followed by the jeans. They fit him pretty well, but I had to show him how to work the zipper.
“These breeches are awfully snug.” I could see he was uncomfortable, so I handed him the tracksuit instead. “Try this. It’s not as confining.” Hugo put on the tracksuit with a T-shirt and a pair of trainers I found in the closet.
“Are the shoes too tight?”
“No, they are remarkably comfortable,” Hugo said as he took a stroll around the room and froze in front of the mirror. “How strange I look.”
“Not nearly as strange as you would look in your seventeenth-century garb in the present day. You actually look great.”
“Do I?” I could see by his expression that he couldn’t say the same for me. He was outraged by my attire, but kept quiet on the subject. Of course he thought I looked odd; it was only natural, and I didn’t want to aggravate him any further. My mind was on our meeting with Max. I hoped he was at home.
“We’d better get going. It will be dark soon, so it should be safe now.”
Hugo just inclined his head in agreement and left the room. I wanted to reassure him that everything would work out for the best and Max would help him, but I held my tongue. I had no idea what Max’s reaction would be, nor did I expect everything to fall into place anytime soon. It would take Hugo a very long time to acclimate to this world, and his pride would suffer a severe blow. To go from being the lord of the manor to being nobody would be hard for anyone. I couldn’t even think of any job he could do, other than manual labor of some sort, but even that required skill.
We walked through the forest in silence, finally emerging not too far from the new house. Several windows were lit, and Max’s car was in the drive, which was a good sign. I’d tried to come up with some kind of plausible explanation, but all I could do was tell him the truth. Nothing could explain my disappearance and re-appearance with his long-dead ancestor.
My hand shook as I rang the bell while my other hand reached for Hugo’s. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t intertwine his fingers with mine the way he would have only this morning. He was still angry, and most likely scared to death. He was literally between a rock and a hard place, and he knew it.
Max himself opened the door; his tall frame illuminated from behind by the lights in the foyer. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but what I glimpsed was enough to show me the shock, amazement, and apprehension that flitted over his features before he forced them into a smile.
“Neve. My goodness, where have you been? I was worried sick.” Max pulled me into a warm embrace and kissed me on both cheeks, but his eyes were trained on Hugo, a barely perceptible glint of malice putting me on my guard.
“Are those my clothes?” He held me at arm’s length, admiring the way the T-shirt clung to my breasts. “They never looked this good on me. Do come in. Mother isn’t here. She’s visiting an old friend in Cornwall. It’s lovely this time of year.”
He was prattling on to hide his nervousness, but I could sense his animosity toward Hugo. It’s as if he knew exactly who he was. Max ushered us into the sitting room and invited us to sit down.
“I’ll call for some refreshments, shall I?” He vanished down the corridor before I could say a word, leaving us feeling baffled.
“He’s just surprised; that’s all,” I said to Hugo as he sat stiffly next to me and looked around the room.
“Was he your lover?” Hugo asked suddenly, spearing me with his gaze.
“No, he wasn’t. He was interested in me, however, I won’t deny that. He wanted to get to know me better.” I wasn’t going to justify my previous life to Hugo. That all happened before I met him, so I had nothing to feel guilty about. It’s not as if Hugo hadn’t had mistresses.
“I see,” was all that Hugo had time to say before Max came back into the room.
“Stella will make some sandwiches and tea. I’m sure you two could use a bite. You do look the worse for wear, if I might say. Now, where have you been? Spellman has been looking for you, as well as Evan. He called here several times demanding
to know where you had gone.”
Oh, why did he have to bring up Evan? I thought as I took a sideways look at Hugo. He sat still as a statue, waiting for me to introduce him.
“Look, Max, something extraordinary happened to me back in March. While taking photographs down in the crypt, I came upon a passage that led me to the seventeenth century where I met Hugo. Max, this is Lord Hugo Everly, your ancestor.” I expected Max to be shocked, but he simply nodded to Hugo.
“I know,” Max said. “I recognize him from the portrait, only he looks less pompous in my tracksuit and without that ridiculous wig.” I glared at Max, angry that he would try to humiliate Hugo rather than make him welcome. Max heard me loud and clear and put on a welcoming façade.
“Of course, I’m thrilled to meet you, Hugo. I’m just understandably shocked. It’s not every day that someone who died over three hundred years ago waltzes into your life. I do hope you understand, old chap. Oh, you really are an old chap, aren’t you?” Max laughed, amused by his own wit.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Hugo replied with undisguised sarcasm. Oh, this wasn’t starting off well at all.
“Max, you don’t seem surprised by my time-traveling,” I said, suddenly realizing that Max didn’t so much as bat an eyelash at my admission that I was in the seventeenth century, keeping company with his ancestor.
“No, I suspected you might have gone through the passage, although I wasn’t sure. I found the bag with your clothes, phone, and keys behind the tomb, and then saw your car parked in the street not too far away from the church,” he admitted.
“Did you take my things?” I asked, shocked that Max would just assume something like that. What if I’d been kidnapped or hurt?
“I took your hold-all and used the car keys to drive your car to the lodge. It’s in the stable. I assumed that you went willingly and didn’t want to alert anyone to what you’d done. It would certainly raise a lot of awkward questions, and every cheap rag would send a reporter down here to investigate.”
The Passage Page 29