by Monica Burns
“Thanks, Nora. I’ll be at the gallery tomorrow after I check in on Victoria.”
“All right,” she said quietly as she reached out and squeezed his hand. “I threw some frozen meals into the freezer-fridge for you. Eat one for God’s sake. And while you’re at it, have one of the pints of Fullers Ale I bought you too.”
“Now, I really do owe you a raise,” Nick said with a small bit of humor as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“I don’t know. I’ve a feeling you’re not going to be happy with my bookkeeping skills.”
His sister grimaced, as he got out of the car. With a wave of her hand, Nora drove off, leaving him standing on the sidewalk in front of his house. It was more than possible Nora had made good on her statement. She’d never been good with math. Nick sighed. At least it would keep him occupied until the end of the day when he could go to the hospital.
The lights under the kitchen cabinet were on, and he dropped the journals on the bar dividing the kitchen and dining room. He opened the fridge-freezer to see at least fifteen meals Nora had bought. Anger and frustration stabbed at him as he ripped open a frozen meal and tossed it into the microwave. It was as if a part of him was missing, and he knew it was because he wasn’t standing guard over Victoria. He opened one of the ales Nora had stockpiled for him and took a deep swig of the beverage.
Logic was the only reason he’d agreed with Nora that it was time to end his round-the-clock vigil over Victoria. The irrational side of him shouted for him to return to the hospital. He shoved the loud demand deep into his subconscious. The microwave beeped, and he pulled out the hot dish, grabbed a fork, and sat down at the bar to eat. A short distance away was the bag holding the Countess of Guildford’s journals. They were just books. What harm could it be to read the journals? With a grunt of disgust he jerked the books out of the bag. Nora had marked the weathered volumes with paper bookmarks with the numbers one and two respectively. Another drink of ale wet his throat as he opened the first journal.
My name is Victoria Ashton, and I’m from the future.
Nick slammed the book shut ready to kill his sister. What the fuck did she take him for? Whoever had fabricated this journal was an incredibly skilled forger. He jerked his phone out of his pocket and dialed Nora’s number. As if she’d been waiting for his phone call, Nora didn’t allow him to speak.
“They’re not forgeries. I had Carlton take a look at both of the books for me. He said they’re from the late eighteen hundreds. He was as skeptical as you, but he’s convinced they’re real.”
Nick stared into space as Nora’s words registered in his brain. The fact that Carlton, one of the best forgery experts in the industry, had said the journals were authentic made it difficult not to believe what every rational thought in his mind was rejecting.
“They’ve got to be fakes. Someone put them in Victoria’s personal belongings before you picked up her things at her hotel.”
“They weren’t in Victoria’s things, Nick.” His sister paused as if she were taking in a deep breath. “They were in the box Uncle Charles left me when he died.”
Nick’s brain scrambled to come up with a rational explanation, but couldn’t devise one.
“They’re the real deal, Nick. As crazy as it sounds. Victoria wrote those journals. Look, not to sound cavalier or cliché, however improbable, what remains must be the truth.”
“And Holmes prefaced that by saying you eliminate the impossible.”
“And we both know Carlton is the best in the business. He says it’s authentic, and I believe him.”
“Because you want to believe him.”
“No, because I believe her,” Nora said quietly. The note of conviction in his sister’s voice made him close his eyes as he considered her words.
“I’ll read the journals,” he rasped, his gaze falling on the thin volumes lying in front of him.
“I’m here if you need me, Nick.”
He didn’t answer. He just pushed the end call button. Reluctant to open the first journal right away, he cleaned up the remains of his supper, finished his ale then grabbed another one. With a sweep of his hand, he picked up the journals on his way out of the kitchen. In the living room, Nick threw himself down onto the couch, switched on the tableside lamp, and laid the second book on the coffee table. He stared suspiciously at the first journal he held in his hand, before he slowly opened the thin volume for the second time and started reading.
My name is Victoria Ashton, and I’m from the future. I don’t know how I arrived at Brentwood Park, any more than I remember what happened right before I woke up here. I remember an art gallery and an explosion. I don’t have any trouble remembering my childhood, college or technology, but the few days before my arrival here is a mystery to me.
Nick stared at the writing. It was written with a shaky hand as if the user didn’t know how to use the fountain pen, which was the standard writing instrument of the late eighteen hundreds. His gaze focused on the words again.
I’m going to have to hide this journal. If someone were to find it, I’d be put in the loony bin. Everyone thinks I’m the countess, but I’m not. I’ve given up trying to convince Nicholas I’m not the countess. Even worse is that I’ve suddenly developed psychic abilities. I have visions periodically but it’s the headaches that trouble me the most.
Whenever I have a headache that’s really bad, Nicholas says I almost stopped breathing. All I know is that I’m in a white mist. When I’m in the mist, it’s so peaceful and loving. I sometimes wonder if I’m actually in heaven. Then there are the other visions, and they’re scary as hell. I keep seeing myself lying in a grave and two men throwing dirt on me. I don’t think I’m the one in the grave though. I think it’s Vickie. I don’t want to believe it, but Anna and I both think Vickie, the real countess, is dead.
Nick stopped reading as the name Anna stared up at him. He’d called his sister Anna several times since Victoria had been in the hospital. He closed the journal, and a loud crack filled the air from the force of his action. With an angry gesture he dropped the journal onto the coffee table then chugged the rest of his ale. His gaze didn’t move from the green book.
“I’m fucking insane for even thinking this might be real,” he said to the empty room. “People don’t travel through time.”
He went back into the kitchen for another ale. With his hips pressed into the counter, he tried to wrap his head around the short amount he’d read in Lady Guildford’s journal, no Victoria’s journal. The way his thoughts segued into the acknowledgment that Victoria and the Countess of Guildford were the same woman made him close his eyes. Finishing off his drink, he popped open another Fullers. Right now the last thing he wanted to do was read that bloody journal. Ale washed its way down his throat. At the moment, the only thing he wanted to do was keep drinking until he couldn’t see straight anymore—hangover possibility or not. He just wasn’t ready to go out on a limb at this point.
Chapter 29
December 1897
The moment they stepped through the front doors of the opera house and out into the frigid night air, Nicholas saw Anna waiting for them. Sebastian had been with him and Sir Kenelm when his friend had seen Darby enter the Guildford opera box. The moment Nicholas had raced to Victoria’s side, his friend had followed.
One step ahead as always, Sebastian was busy summoning the carriages. Nicholas knew that if not for his friend, Victoria would be dead. It was a debt he knew he’d never be able to repay. Anna quietly greeted Abigail then turned to look at Victoria and gently touched her cheek. His friend drew in a sharp breath.
“Dear God, Nicholas. It’s like that day at Brentwood Park. She’s barely breathing.” Anna’s words only served to heighten Nicholas’ deepening worry.
“This has happened before?” Abigail gasped in horror.
“Yes,” he ground out between his clenched teeth, not about to explain any further at the moment.
“I’m so sorry, Nicholas. This is all
my fault,” Abigail said in a distraught voice.
“No, I should never have left the two of you alone.”
“You could not have foreseen this, Nicholas. No one could have,” Anna said quietly. Beside him, Abigail touched her bruised cheek.
“When Darby entered the box, he was insane with fear. He kept demanding Victoria return his book. The man seemed almost as terrified as he was crazed,” his sister said in a confused manner that indicated she was in a state of shock. “He insisted she’d given the book to Edmund. When he insulted Edmund, Victoria slapped him. He became even more enraged and attacked her. If you hadn’t arrived when you did Nicholas…”
Something in his sister’s narrative struck him as important, but at the moment, all he could think about was Victoria.
“You’re not to blame, Abigail,” he said tightly. He knew how stern his voice sounded, and he turned his head to look at his sister to meet her gaze. Her distraught look made him soften his expression and tone. “It’s not your fault, Abigail.”
“She’s so still, Nicholas,” his sister said as she swung her gaze to Victoria.
Abigail’s observation made his gut clench. The thought of Victoria not waking up this time scared the hell out of him. Nicholas didn’t answer her as the carriage pulled to the curb. He heard Anna murmur something to his sister, but whatever it was he didn’t hear. Sebastian opened the door of the vehicle then held Victoria until Nicholas was seated in the carriage.
“I’ve already sent for the doctor to meet you at Guildford House,” Sebastian said as he gently transferred Victoria back into Nicholas’ arms. “Would you like Anna and me to come to the house with you?”
“No, there’s nothing to be done. She’ll either awaken or—” Nicholas broke off his sentence abruptly. He wasn’t about to consider any other possibility. “Abigail requires a doctor to examine her face.”
“We’ll see her home safely and send for her physician. Anna and I will call on you tomorrow afternoon to see how you and Victoria are faring,” Sebastian squeezed Nicholas’ shoulder reassuringly before he stepped back from the carriage and closed the door.
The ride back to Guildford House seemed interminably long. Nicholas spent half of his time trying to coax Victoria out of her death-like state. The other half, he spent praying for her to wake up so he could tell her how much he loved her. Guilt lashed out at him. He should never have gone to see Sir Kenelm. If not for Sebastian and the fact that Sir Kenelm had been seated on the mezzanine level, he would never have reached Victoria in time.
His mind reeled at the memory of seeing her fall backward over the railing of the opera box. God help him, he still had no idea how he’d kept Victoria from falling to her death. His mouth went dry as he remembered his hand catching nothing but air until he found her arm and pulled her back into the box. As for Darby, he couldn’t say he was sorry the man was dead. The bastard had almost cost him the life of the woman he loved.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the house. With the assistance of Jamieson and one of the footmen, Nicholas limped his way into the house with his precious burden in his arms. As he crossed the threshold, he heard the whisper of a moan cross Victoria’s lips. Relief sailed through him. Glancing down at her, Nicholas saw her breathing was beginning to return to normal. As quickly as possible, he climbed the stairs and carried her through the open door of her bedroom. Nicholas called out for Roberts who miraculously appeared in Victoria’s bedroom doorway almost immediately. A worried frown wrinkled the valet’s brow as Nicholas laid Victoria on the bed.
“Fetch Molly, I’ll need help getting her ladyship undressed.”
“Yes, my lord,” Roberts said, already halfway out the door.
As he began to remove Victoria’s shoes, another soft moan escaped her lips followed by an anguished cry of fear.
“Nicholas.”
Victoria shot upright, and Nicholas quickly moved to sit down next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
“I’m here, my love. You’re safe.”
Sheer terror glazed her blue eyes as she stared up at him. Her expression made him wish Darby was still alive so he could make the bastard pay for his assault on Victoria. Slender fingers curled around the lapels of his evening jacket as tears rolled down her cheeks. Trembling, her teeth began to chatter and the violence of her tremors hammered their way into his body. Where the devil was Molly? He gently forced Victoria to turn toward him so she was pressed into his chest. Her tremors continued as his fingers unbuttoned the line of pearl-shaped buttons running down the back of the gown. A knock at the door made him turn his head to see Molly ushering a man into the room.
“Dr. Waverley, my lord,” Molly said quietly.
“My lord.”
The doctor nodded his greeting at Nicholas as he moved quickly to the other side of the bed. The black bag he carried opened with a soft snap, and Victoria jerked in reaction to the sharp sound. Dr. Waverley pulled a stethoscope from his bag and leaned toward Victoria.
“I need to check her pulse, my lord.”
Nicholas gently tried to make Victoria extend one of her arms, but she resisted.
“It’s all right, my love. I’m right here you must let the doctor examine you. Victoria’s eyes were still wide in her face as she allowed Nicholas to extend her hand to the doctor. The man frowned as he took her pulse then touched her cheek and the back of her neck. With efficient speed he completed his examination before looking at Nicholas.
“She’s in shock, my lord. We need to get her out of these clothes now and under the covers immediately.” At the man’s orders, Nicholas nodded.
With Molly’s and the doctor’s help, Victoria was under the blankets in less than two minutes. Even beneath the warm covers, Victoria continued to tremble, but her tremors seemed to have eased somewhat as he held her hand. The doctor gently pressed his stethoscope against her chest to listen to her heartbeat. When he finished he straightened to stare at Victoria for a brief interlude before he looked at Nicholas.
“Lord Starling’s message said that her ladyship was almost killed tonight,” Dr. Waverley said softly. “She appears uninjured physically, but her pulse is far too rapid to my liking. I believe a strong dose of laudanum will enable her to sleep well into the morning so as to put some distance between her and this trauma.”
“No,” Victoria whispered in a barely audible voice. “I don’t want to leave you Nicholas. I don’t want to go back.”
“Shhh, sweet witch, it’s only to make you sleep. You’re not going anywhere,” he reassured her as he kissed her brow. Nicholas glanced at the doctor and nodded. As the man prepared the medicine, Nicholas met Victoria’s gaze. Not even the night when she’d been chased across the estate grounds had she looked so shaken. She’d had a brush with death, and he knew it would take time for her to recover from the experience. Her tremors had abated, but the fear in her eyes made his gut twist with guilt. He was responsible for what had happened. If he’d not left her side, none of this would’ve taken place. Nicholas cleared his throat as he bent his head toward her.
“I should never have left you, sweet witch,” he murmured. “If I’d lost you…” His words trailed off and Victoria’s hand touched his cheek.
“It’s not your fault,” she rasped.
“Here you are, my lady,” Dr. Waverley said quietly as he handed Nicholas a small metal cup and a glass of water Molly had retrieved from the bathroom. Victoria eyed the cup with distaste before she met his gaze.
“It will help you sleep, my love.” At his assurance she nodded and accepted the cup from him.
“It is best if you drink it quickly, my lady,” Dr. Waverley said in a kind voice. It tends to disagree with the palate.”
Victoria did as the doctor ordered and tossed down the medicine. She gagged a split-second later, and Nicholas offered her the water, which she drank quickly.
“What the hell…was…that?” she asked in a shaky voice. The doctor’s eyebrows rose sligh
tly at her question, and a small smile twisted the corners of Nicholas’ mouth. Her colorful language meant some of her fear was receding. Even her color was returning to her cheeks.
“Laudanum, my lady,” Dr. Waverley said as he put his belongings back in his bag and snapped it closed. “It’s a mixture of opium and other medicinal herbs that will let you sleep undisturbed until late in the morning.”
“Opium,” Victoria’s harsh whisper made Nicholas raise her hand to his mouth. He kissed her fingers then clasped her hand firmly in his.
“You’ll sleep more soundly, Victoria. I’ll not leave you alone tonight, sweet witch. I’ll be right here.”
Victoria closed her eyes and nodded as her fingers squeezed his hand. Dr. Waverley stood up and looked at Nicholas.
“I think today’s rest will ensure Lady Guildford’s physically recovered to enjoy the festivities on Christmas Eve at the end of the week. However it is possible she’ll have nightmares for some time to come. Even unexpected movements or sounds might trigger a reaction.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Nicholas said. “Molly will see Dr. Waverly out.”
“Yes, my lord.” Molly bobbed her head in his direction then turned her head toward the doctor. The man shook Nicholas’ hand then followed the maid out of the room. Just as Molly was about to close the door, Nicholas stopped her.
“Molly, tell Roberts I’ll not need him for the rest of the night. In the morning, I’ll have breakfast in the dining room with my brother.”
“Yes, my lord.” With her quiet response, the maid closed the door behind her.
Nicholas turned his head back to Victoria who looked up at him sleepily. The opium was already having an impact on her. He released her hand, but she grasped his arm in a display of panic. He kissed her gently.
“I can’t sleep in my evening clothes, my love.”
With a reluctant nod, she slowly released her grasp on his arm. Not wasting any time, Nicholas quickly undressed then returned to the bed. Sliding underneath the covers, he pulled her into his arms. She was on the verge of sleep, but it was obvious she was fighting the drug’s effect.