“I can’t drink that,” I whispered, raising my eyes to his.
“I thought you liked this one.” He glanced at the label on the bottle to see if he’d gotten it wrong.
“I do, but I won’t be drinking for a while,” I said, realizing that the statement would mean nothing to Hugo. In his time, women drank all through the pregnancy and while they nursed, the effects of alcohol on fetuses and infants not known to them. “Hugo, I’m pregnant,” I mumbled as I watched his face for a reaction. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but Hugo’s face broke into the most radiant smile, one of such joy that I suddenly felt my heart lift as well.
“How long?”
“About a month.”
“How can you tell so quickly?” he asked, puzzled. I just showed him the plastic stick that clearly said ‘pregnant’ in the little window.
“And how does this plastic tube know that you are with child?” he asked. He was curious about the workings of everything. Hugo took the pregnancy test and looked at it more closely, marveling at the message.
“It measures certain hormones in the urine,” I replied, giggling as Hugo quickly handed the stick back to me, unsure of how my urine got inside, but not willing to find out.
“Hugo, are you upset?” I asked, although clearly he wasn’t.
“I’m overcome with joy,” he replied and kissed me soundly. “I can’t wait to be a father, but first, we must be married.”
“You know that’s impossible,” I replied. In his excitement, Hugo seemed to forget that according to the British government he didn’t exist, therefore couldn’t enter into a legal union with someone without first proving his identity.
“No, it isn’t.” Hugo seemed unusually happy as he looked at me, his eyes dancing with merriment.
“Hugo, what is it? Have you thought of something?”
“As it happens, I have.”
I sat up in Hugo’s lap and faced him, eager to hear what he had to say. What could have changed between this morning and now? Hugo took a sip of wine, prolonging the suspense and watching me with undisguised glee.
“Well?” I asked, punching him lightly on the shoulder. I hated when he did that; he had a real penchant for drama, something he probably picked up over the years at Court.
“Well, I was walking past a cinema today and saw an interesting advertisement for a film called ‘The Master of Disguise’. And, it got me thinking. Actors change their appearance all the time for different roles, yet we never thought of what that really means,” Hugo announced triumphantly.
“Hugo, I’m not following.”
“Darling, in the seventeenth century, there are no cameras. People don’t take a picture and forward it to others or post it on social media for three hundred of their closest friends to see. By the by, I still don’t understand how that works. At any rate, how many people in the seventeenth century, aside from those who’ve met in person, really know how I look? The soldiers who have the warrant for my arrest know to take into custody Lord Hugo Everly, who’s dark-eyed, dark-haired, somewhat above-average height, and of average build. How many of them have ever seen my likeness?”
“Not many, I suppose, other than the ones who had actually met you like the captain who came to arrest you at Cranley,” I replied, the light suddenly beginning to dawn.
“If I change my appearance I can be anyone I choose to be. I can be Mr. Smith or Mr. Jones, or even Monsieur Dauriac if I so desire. No one would be the wiser. There’s no hair color or eye-color altering lenses in the past. If people saw a blond man with blue eyes they would never associate him with me, don’t you see?” Hugo was practically bouncing in the seat, his excitement contagious.
“But Hugo, say you do color your hair and change your eyes, then what? You still can’t go home and claim your rightful place,” I said, feeling bad for raining on his parade.
“Oh, but I can. I’ve been using your library card to great effect. In November of 1688, William and Mary will land in England, depose King James II, and take the throne. The people of England will refer to this as the Glorious Revolution. Once a Protestant monarch is on the throne, the charge against me will become void since I will no longer be considered a traitor, but a hero who wanted to put a Protestant on the throne of England. I will be able to go home,” Hugo announced.
“And until then?”
“Until then we can go to France as we planned and live there for three years in relative comfort, since I will be able to stop by Everly Manor and collect what I need, as well as inform Jane that I’m still alive and that you’re with child. She’ll be so happy; this is what she wanted for me all along.”
Hugo’s face suddenly grew serious as he took my face in his hands. “Neve, I will stay here if that is what you want. I will never leave you or try to force you to go back against your will. This is your time and your life, and you will be forsaking so much more than I have a right to ask, and I wouldn’t dare ask if I didn’t know that you’d planned to give it all up for me before. The decision is yours, and I will abide by it.”
Yes, the decision was mine, but now things had changed. A few months ago, I’d made a heart-wrenching decision to stay with Hugo in the seventeenth century, but although I knew that I might get pregnant at some point, I wasn’t pregnant at the time, so it was all hypothetical. Now, there was a child growing inside me, tiny though it might still be, and that brought to the forefront all the fears of my last miscarriage and the lack of medical care in the seventeenth century. I was no fool; I knew the statistics. What was the likelihood of me surviving a birth? Maybe fifty-fifty, if there were no complications. I was scared, and Hugo knew it.
“Neve, I know you’re frightened, and I would be too, knowing what type of medical miracles you would be leaving behind, but I promise you, I will find you the best accoucheur money can buy. I will abduct the queen’s own physician if I must to keep you and our child safe.”
I leaned forward and rested my forehead against Hugo’s, my eyes closed as my mind raced through all the objections which my neurons were firing at lightning speed. Any sensible person would stay here and try to find a way forward. After all, Hugo wasn’t the first illegal to land on the shores of England, but I couldn’t keep him from his life or his birthright. He had to go back, and I could either stay here: alone, heartbroken, and pregnant, or I could take my chances and go with him; all the while praying and hoping that I wasn’t making a terrible mistake, a mistake that would cost me my life.
“Yes, Hugo, I will go back with you, but this time I will do it right, if there is such a thing. I must make provisions for my flat, my car, and my job. I can’t just disappear without a trace,” I said, already thinking of what would need to be done. Focusing on the mundane was one way of keeping at bay the magnitude of what I was agreeing to.
“Because you hope to come back?”
“Because I don’t think it’s right to disappear again. I owe Lawrence Spellman that much. I also need to schedule an appointment at the clinic to see a doctor before I leave. I want to make sure that everything is all right and get a script for prenatal vitamins. I’d like to see a dentist as well, as should you. You don’t have a National Health Service Card, but there’s a private dentist I know who will gladly see you. It’s not like you’ll have another chance,” I said with a sad giggle. “When do you want to go?”
“As soon as you are ready. How long would it take to alter my appearance?”
“Not long. I can get some lenses from the make-up artists, and we can buy hair color at any pharmacy. It might be helpful if you grow a mustache and a beard, which we will color as well. Do you think I need to alter my appearance as well?” I asked, suddenly conscious of the fact that Lionel Finch and the captain of the guard had seen me with Hugo.
“I think that as long as you are dressed simply and are traveling with your “husband”, no one will make the connection between you and Lord Everly’s sumptuously dressed mistress.”
I was suddenly overcome with excite
ment. As long as we could pull this off, we could travel to France as we planned, marry, have our child, and live in the style Hugo was accustomed to until it was safe to return to England. It was a simple plan, but one that should work.
Chapter 52
I smiled at Hugo as we slipped into Cranleigh church at dusk on September 1st. I was still trying to get used to his new appearance. Underneath, it was the same old Hugo, but the man who smiled back at me looked completely different. Hugo’s hair was now a dark blond, as was his moustache and short beard. I’d picked the lightest shade of blond I could find, but when applied to his own naturally black hair, the effect wasn’t as drastic as I expected. The light blue lenses did their job, and Hugo’s gaze was now more of a cornflower blue, the vibrant color accentuated by his dark eyebrows and lashes. He still wore his jeans and a T-shirt, but would change back into the clothes he fled in once we were down in the crypt. Thankfully, the clothes had been plain, not the ostentatious outfits that a nobleman might wear at Court, so the disguise should work. My own shift, stockings, dress, and all its parts, and shoes were also in the bag. I also had an embroidered little satchel that I’d picked up at a stall in Portobello Road which held my prenatal vitamins in a leather pouch and a dozen pills of an antibiotic I had left from my previous bout of sinus infection.
I’d also brought a key to the safety deposit box where I’d stored all my valuables in a bank in London. If ever I needed to come back, I would be able to access them. I’d asked Deborah to keep an eye on my flat and help the tenant should any problems arise, telling her that I was leaving the country for a while to travel the world. She was skeptical of my sketchy explanation, but promised to look after things in my absence. Deborah was convinced that I’d met some man during my recent absence and was running off with him to live a life of hedonistic pleasure, possibly in America. I let her believe what she would, since I couldn’t very well tell her the truth. Lawrence Spellman had been less understanding, but I gave him two weeks’ notice and promised that should I ever want my job back I wouldn’t expect any more favors from him. It felt strangely heart-wrenching to walk down the corridor toward the lift for the last time, knowing that I had now severed my ties to everything and everyone in my modern life. I’d even written a brief email to Evan, telling him that I was moving on and wishing him luck with his silk application, the result of which was due to come through any day now. I was sure he’d get it and call me to boast when he did, but I wouldn’t be there to take the call or read the email. I would be in seventeenth-century France, a place where no communication could ever reach me.
The candles in the church were lit, casting shifting shadows onto the nave and the Jubilee window, its colors now darker and richer due to the gathering darkness outside. Hugo and I took a seat in the last pew and waited for Evensong to end. There weren’t many people and, of course, Max and his mother were not among those attending. The service finally ended, and Reverend Lambert walked out of the church without noticing us and took his place by the door to bid goodnight to his few parishioners. I heard his deep voice outside, asking after someone’s mother and her failing health.
As soon as the last person, who was an elderly woman with a stout walking stick, shuffled toward the door, Hugo and I descended into the crypt. We changed in silence, stowed our modern clothes behind the farthest sarcophagus, where they were unlikely to be found, and pushed the center of the flower. The heavy door slid open, revealing the dark passage beyond. Hugo took my hand, and we ran up the steps, the door closing behind us with a finality that left a jagged mark on my heart. This time I wasn’t planning on coming back. This was it.
I could hear Hugo’s sigh of relief as he gazed upon the church of his own time. It was also lit with candles, but the building seemed much darker, the atmosphere close for lack of windows and proper ventilation. Evensong was finished, the Reverend Snow still outside, talking to someone in the church porch whose comments we couldn’t quite make out. We slipped quietly from the church into the graveyard, nearly invisible in the purple smudges of dusk, which settled between the gravestones and beneath the trees whose shaggy heads nodded in sympathy to those who’d died. Hugo’s gaze was directed toward his home which sat proudly atop a hill, feeble light just visible in some of the windows. I could feel his longing and his excitement at being back, but he held himself in check, waiting for Reverend Snow to retreat back into the church before we could slip through the gate and be on our way. My heart was pounding with excitement and fear, but I forced myself to calm down by breathing the fresh country air of the seventeenth century, unpolluted with the gas fumes of the nearby motorway.
We walked briskly toward Everly Manor, our hearts beating in unison as we finally approached the gate. All seemed normal and quiet, the house settling into peaceful slumber as night approached and everyone prepared for bed. The dogs began to yelp, but quickly quieted, recognizing their master in the stranger who approached and held out his fist for them to sniff. Hugo stepped into the stable as I went to the door, my heart in my mouth as I banged the heavy knocker. We’d decided that it was safer for the servants not to see Hugo at all, so I asked a startled Liza if I might have a word with Jane. Liza threw me a filthy look; no doubt blaming me for the disappearance of her master, but invited me to wait inside and went to summon Jane.
I couldn’t help noticing that she looked radiant, her cheeks blooming with good health and her eyes sparkling in a way I hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps Liza was being courted by someone whose attentions she welcomed, I speculated as I waited for Jane. I’d never liked the girl, but I was happy for her if that were the case. Everyone deserved a chance at happiness, especially a servant who wouldn’t get many opportunities to escape the bounds of domestic servitude before the bloom wore off, and she became one of those family retainers who worked in the house for decades, completely devoid of any personal ties of her own.
“Dear God, Neve,” Jane exclaimed as she came rushing into the foyer. “I thought you were dead. What’s happened to my brother?” she cried. “We’ve had no word since the soldiers came to arrest him in May. They came here, demanding to know where he’d gone, but I couldn’t tell them. They said he simply vanished from the church, like a spirit. Captain Humphries asked Reverend Snow to pass a message to Hugo after you’d gone into the church, and the reverend came back saying that you were nowhere inside. The soldiers went in and searched every inch of the place, but there was no trace of either of you. They eventually left, but several men were posted in the village, in the event that Hugo returned; ready to take him into custody. They are still there. But, where is Hugo?”
“Jane, Hugo is in the stables, and he looks somewhat different than usual. We were in hiding for a while, but Hugo deems it safe to make our way to France now. We’ll just need a purse full of coin, two horses, his signet ring and sword, and change of clothing. Nothing ostentatious; just the simplest things you can find. Hugo will write to you once we’ve settled.”
“But where have you been all this time?” Jane asked as she gaped at me. “Monmouth has been executed, God rest his soul,” she intoned, crossing herself automatically.
“We were in London. Jane, please, time is of the essence. We’d like to be in Portsmouth by noon tomorrow. I will wait for you in the stables since I don’t want anyone else to see me. They might betray us to the soldiers.”
“Of course, give me a few moments. I will meet you there.”
I found Hugo sitting on a bale of hay in the stables. The horses were restless, shifting in their stalls and sniffing at the air. I sat down next to Hugo and rested my head on his shoulder. I knew he was anxious to see his sister, whom he thought he’d lost forever, but I just wanted to get away as quickly as possible and put as much distance between us and Everly Manor as we could before we had to stop for the night. But, I was glad that at least now Jane could be at peace, knowing that Hugo was alive and well. She’d assumed the worst, as anyone in her position would have, and with the death of Monmouth
, her fears were justified.
Jane sidled into the stable carrying a worn leather satchel and Hugo’s sheathed sword beneath her arm. I heard her sharp intake of breath as she saw Hugo, a look of naked disbelief on her face as she drew closer and gaped at the stranger before her.
“Janey, it’s me,” Hugo said gently, giving her time to get accustomed to his appearance. “It’s really me.”
“But how?” she mused, touching Hugo’s blond hair and looking into his now much lighter eyes. “What kind of magic is this?” she asked, her eyes slanted and peering at me in the dim light of the lantern. “You are a witch, aren’t you?”
“Jane, Neve is not a witch. She saved my life; you might do well to remember that. And now she’s saving my life once again by disguising me. I will write as soon as we get to France,” Hugo promised. “Take care of yourself and look after Clarence.”
“Will you be married in France?” Jane asked carefully, unsure of how things stood.
“As soon as possible,” Hugo assured her, “with plenty of time to spare before the child arrives.”
“Oh Hugo, is it really true?” Jane spun around and took in my still-flat stomach. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or dismayed.
“It is. Now, we must be away. Jane, please don’t tell anyone I was here, not even Clarence, and especially not Jem. How is he?” Hugo asked wistfully.
“A nuisance as usual,” Jane replied coolly. I couldn’t help wondering what life had been like for poor Jem since Hugo disappeared. Jane would have no use for a page, but she’d know that Hugo wanted the boy looked after.
“Jane, please see to Jem for me. I will come back, and I expect to find him waiting for me,” Hugo instructed, seeing his sister’s skeptical gaze. “You heard me.”
“Yes, of course. As you say,” Jane muttered. “What should I say about the missing horses?”
The Passage Page 34