Once and Forever

by Constance O'Day-Flannery

  Nick and the woman seemed shocked by her words, yet she couldn’t have cared. It was much more mild than what she was really thinking. But now… enough was enough.

  Turning around, she announced, “All right, there’s got to be a phone around here somewhere… I’ll do it myself.” She swept past the onlookers and began walking through the rose garden, barely noticing the loveliness of the flowers, and stormed up to the huge door. She didn’t even knock, figuring she had made it this far. The metal latch lifted easily, and Maggie pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her breath caught at the back of her throat when she saw the immense stone wall some twenty feet in front of her with a large, elaborate, and intricately woven tapestry hanging on it.

  Spying oversize, dark wooden-paneled doors on either side, she quickly deduced that this was merely a foyer of some sort and wondered if she should take the left door, or the right, to find an office with a phone and perhaps someone with some sanity. She heard the sound of movement behind her and realized Nick and the others were following, so Maggie picked up her hem and hurried to the right door.

  She entered a vast stone hall, a room so large that there were seven arches a good ten feet apart to support the roof. Three black-iron chandeliers, each at least six feet around, hung from the cathedral ceiling and dripped with molten wax from hundreds of candles. There were more tapestries hanging on the walls between the arches. She realized when she was in the foyer, she’d been looking at the back of a fireplace so enormous she could stand inside it, one that now burned with low embers. Against the farthest wall, a long table was set and had carved high-backed, dark wooden chairs all to one side, looking out on the great hall.

  Before much more could register, Maggie heard the door on the other side of the fireplace quietly open, and the Countess Elthea came in alone. She smiled at Maggie, who then realized it didn’t matter which door she had chosen, as they both led into this room.

  Elthea slowly approached Maggie. She held her hands together at her chest, each palm resting against the other, as if she were terribly worried. “Margaret, there is no one save us here, and the few servants about the manor. Pray tell what happened in the wood,” she implored. “Granted it has been many years since we have smiled into each other’s eyes, yet your mother and I were as sisters to each other, and although I was not granted a daughter in this lifetime, I love thee as I would my own. You may trust me. I only have your best wishes in my heart.”

  Something about the woman made Maggie want to trust her. She gave off that same soothing energy as her own aunt Edithe. There was integrity in her eyes. But she had also gone along with Nick, which proved that she, too, was drawn into this madness, and Maggie couldn’t trust anyone at this point.

  “Really, thank you, that’s a very sweet thing to say,” Maggie said, as her eyes darted around the room searching for another exit. She saw doors behind the grand table at the far end of the room. The sound of her hard leather-soled flats clicked and echoed as she walked across the fine chiseled beige-stone floor. She added, “If you really wish to help me, then please find me a phone, a… call box, I think you Brits say. I need to make a call out to my aunt.”

  The woman followed her hesitantly, as though she were a wild animal and therefore unpredictable. “You wish to call out to your aunt, child? But… I am present.”

  “My aunt’s name is Edithe, not Elthea,” Maggie answered, proceeding toward the table. Everything was anciently styled, yet not exactly aged, as if someone had created the chairs behind the table within the last few years. They certainly didn’t look four hundred years old. This place is kept up very well, she thought. This Robert guy must be a good manager… but, hunting with falcons? That’s a bit eccentric!

  Elthea’s voice broke Maggie’s mind from its rambling thoughts. “I know not of this woman in our lineage. You say there is a Lady Edithe, and she is your aunt?”

  Finally, Maggie stopped walking and turned back to the woman who played the lady of the castle so well. “Yes, Edithe is my aunt, and I need to contact her. Will you help me?” she asked, just as the man named Evan entered the room carrying a large silver tray.

  “Help you?” Elthea repeated, and then noticed her servant. “Aye, indeed, I shall help thee, dear cousin. Let us first rest a moment and partake of a small repast, then verily, you and I shall find the solution to all your concerns,” she finished in a persuasive tone. “This I do promise.”

  “I don’t have time to stop and eat,” she stated flatly. “Listen, all I’m asking is to be shown a telephone. It’s a local call, not long-distance. Or do you have a fax, a computer… any ability to contact someone on the outside of this Renaissance Festival?”

  “Child,” the woman whispered as though she had not even heard Maggie’s desperate request, “you must be half-starved. Please sit with me a short while and we shall unravel this mystery. How long were you lost in the wood?”

  Again Maggie blew the stray lock of hair away from her face and figured maybe if she told this Countess Elthea the whole story, she would realize her predicament and help her get back to her aunt. “Geez, it must be hours by now.” With resignation, she exhaled. “They’re probably frantic about me being gone.”

  In spite of her incredible predicament, Maggie found that she began to like this woman’s calming effect and figured if this Countess Elthea was employed here to play a part in a castle for wandering and lost tourists, she was playing it to the hilt. Maybe this museum really didn’t have electricity or telephones to keep it authentic. In her opinion, and especially in her situation, that was taking it too far, but she knew there were areas of Europe that refused to modernize… and since she was in a foreign country and was obviously not making herself clear, Maggie decided to sit for a moment and gather her wits about her. Plus, the scones looked delicious and her stomach was growling. What could it hurt? “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” she whispered under her breath as the man placed the tray on the long table.

  “Thank you, Evan…. Please leave us until I call for you again.” The Countess Elthea nodded and smiled to him.

  Maybe now, one of them could think clearly. There was, however, a nagging thought, one that kept demanding her attention. She realized she had been pushing it to the back of her mind while she attempted to communicate with these people. Plus, it was too damn scary to examine right now.

  Still it refused to be denied and, suddenly, burst through all her defenses.

  What if she had somehow, by some crazy twist of fate or something, been thrown back in time?

  What about the maze and that strange, ghostly little girl who kept telling her to follow her heart? What the hell was that all about? There had to be an explanation somewhere. Did England harbor a town of loony people who insisted on living four hundred years in the past? How nuts was that?

  It was way too bizarre even to contemplate, and she again banished the insane thought while bringing her concentration back to the woman seated next to her. She almost wanted to laugh out loud… yeah right, time travel!

  “Perhaps, if you would dispel your disquiet, child, here between family, your correct path will become evident. Once we have had a moment of respite, I am certain all will be crystalline. Please be seated, dear Margaret, and we shall be peaceful and perchance discuss your coming celebration and new life here at Greville Manor with much joy.”

  “My life is not here,” Maggie insisted, wanting to avoid the almost pleading tone of the woman. She looked out to the great hall. “I’m supposed to be on vacation, my birthday is day after tomorrow, I’m visiting my aunt… in a time and place much different than here.” She stiffened her back, and repeated, “So I can’t stay for more than a few minutes. I’m only a visitor here, and I must get back to my aunt’s home.”

  “Such an overwhelming day for all of us, child,” the lady gently continued. “Simply quench thy thirst, then make a decision.”

  “Okay,” Maggie answered cautiously, pulling her attention back to the food. “B
ut, remember, I can’t stay. If you don’t have any way for me to call my aunt, then I’ll have to look somewhere else. I’m sure I could probably walk back in the direction of the faire before dark.”

  “What is this faire you speak of, child? There is the celebration for your marriage, but that is a fortnight hence.” She poured what looked like a dark brown ale from a glass decanter into two silver goblets. Setting one at a place on the table, Elthea smiled up to her.

  Maggie shot her gaze from the high-arched window she had been looking out for an approximate estimation of afternoon time, and back to the woman.

  “The Renaissance Festival that’s going on right now, outside Trowbridge, near Stonehenge… the one you’re all involved with…” Maggie shook her head in frustration and silently decided this woman was so engrossed in character that she’d lost all sense of the present. “And a celebration of my marriage?… Not!” She crossed her arms in front of her, then swung them back in an umpire’s safe gesture. She suspected all these actors had lost themselves in time and resigned herself to that conclusion. She then grabbed up the hem of her soiled gown and moved to the assigned seat. Right now, she could use a glass of ale to steady her nerves and food to calm her stomach.

  Once that was accomplished, she would leave this place of insanity and find that faire or get back to her aunt in Trowbridge if she had to walk all night. She was going to solve this riddle, and she was never going to wear a costume again and pretend she was someone or something she wasn’t.

  Maggie waited until the woman served herself, then picked up her own goblet. It was stamped with a seal and one ruby was set into the eye of a gryphon. It looked pretty official, royal and authentic, but then what did she know about royalty? She knew her father’s family came from England, but they were probably scullery maids, and not the privileged class.

  “Cheers,” Maggie said with a slightly mocking smile and brought the goblet to her lips. “Here’s to returning home…” she added more seriously.

  “To the homecoming.” The Countess Elthea gazed at her and smiled in return.

  The ale tasted very sweet, with a hint of ginger and orange, not exactly her choice, yet she didn’t complain. She was thirsty and hungry and grateful for the hospitality this woman was showing her.

  Elthea never looked away but sat next to her and smiled sympathetically. “Poor, dear Margaret,” she murmured. “You have been through so much in your short life. It must all seem strange to return to England after so many years.”

  “Return? This is my first time here.” Maggie couldn’t wait to taste the scone, dripping with honey, and looked around for some cutlery. Finding none, she picked it up in her hands and took a bite. It seemed to melt on her tongue and her taste buds savored the unique flavors. This was definitely homemade.

  “Yes, child… your first time at Greville Manor, and I can understand your confused state of mind. Assuredly, you need to rest.” The woman bit into her scone and nodded.

  Maggie looked into the woman’s eyes and felt the muscles in her body relaxing, in spite of her situation. She took another gulp of wine to wash down the scone and to draw her attention away from Elthea’s gaze. Although sympathetic, the woman was looking at her deeply, as if trying to read her thoughts.

  “I will rest when I find my pearls, the faire, and my aunt.”

  “Pearls? Goodness… thy jewels were lost?”

  “Yes,” Maggie answered, feeling a comfortable weight descend upon her, like someone covering her body with a warm blanket. “They are precious to me, and I have to find them. I never should have worn them today.” Why was she so tired all of a sudden? Had she been running on adrenaline and now it was all catching up to her?

  “Be assured, dear Margaret, your possessions shall be recovered. When Lord Robert returns from his hunt, conceivably, he will set all matters right. I shall inform him of the miscreants who attacked your cortege. How many were traveling in all? Perhaps you could make a list of your belongings. Robert must know all that he is to recoup and, without fail, he will ferret out the perpetrators of this knavery and they shall be dealt with severely.”

  Maggie paused for just a moment to absorb this confusing woman’s thoughts now in her head. “I’m sorry… Elthea, is it? Whatever story you’re telling, it ain’t mine.”

  She finished the delicious biscuit and wanted another, but thought that might be rude, since the woman only took a small bite out of hers and hadn’t even touched her ale. Sipping the last of her own, Maggie sat back and sighed while wondering where to wipe her hands. They were sticky from the honey and the only thing resembling a cloth was the coarsely woven runner covering the middle of the table and another on the serving tray next to a bowl of water. Should she reach for it? She mentally shrugged. It was the least of her worries at the moment.

  Holding her hands in her lap, sticky fingers up, Maggie said, “I wasn’t attacked by bandits. I just got lost in the maze and then found myself on the side of a road, where Nick’s horse nearly ran me over. Where is he, by the way?”

  “Master Layton? He is being tended by the servants until the physician arrives. I shall see to him after I have escorted thee to thy chamber.” Countess Elthea changed the subject abruptly. “Do tell more of this maze. Where might it be, child? Is this where you were attacked? To my knowledge, no estates, nor bailiwick for that matter, maintain a maze… and the wood is a most unlikely surrounding for such frivolities, is it not?”

  Maggie sighed with frustration. “Look, there was no ambush by bandits… I can only tell you that I was at a Renaissance Festival with my aunt and her companion, and we entered the maze together. They went on ahead of me and then I got lost and had an anxiety attack, or something, and then there was this child who kept calling to me, telling me to follow her, so I did and that’s when the hedges started to fade and I ran toward the woods and Nick’s horse attacked me,” she rattled off, before she threw her hands up in the air, and continued. “After that, I’m completely lost, since I can’t seem to find a single person who speaks normal, contemporary English, or even knows of anything modern.” She glanced rapidly around the room and abruptly turned back to the Countess Elthea. The motion caused a wave of dizziness. “May I ask you a question?”

  Countess Elthea had been listening carefully, merely blinking her eyes and showing little emotion. “Ask me anything, child.”

  “Do you work here? Is that why you’re dressed like that and insist it’s 1598? Are you an actor being paid to play this role?” Okay, that was three questions, but she still wanted to hear this woman’s responses.

  Elthea swallowed deeply and seemed to be trying to formulate answers. “Dear Margaret, I live here. I have lived here since I married the Earl of Amesbury, Robert’s father, and have remained since his passing many years ago. Do I think the year is 1598? Aye. According to the calendars the monks started centuries ago, that is this, the year of our Lord. Am I playing a role?” The woman leaned closer to her. “Dear child, we are women and it was not so long ago in history that the church deemed us worthy as human beings and granted us souls. So yes…” The woman sat back. “To that question, I would say all women have been playing the role assigned to us. Our good queen, Elizabeth, playing the prominent role of woman, is giving a fine performance, I dare say.”

  Maggie got a huge grin on her face. “Oh, I get it. This has to be some gag. Okay, where’s the camera?” She laughingly jerked her head around the room, trying to guess where it might be hidden. “This is just like my aunt Edithe and Malcolm to play a joke on me.” She turned toward the empty room, and raised her voice. “Hey, everybody! I get it! This is my birthday joke, right?” She paused and looked back at the woman. “Well, the jig’s up, and you can all come out now!”

  A prolonged silence followed after her echoed words. Maggie didn’t know if it was the ale or the woman’s confusing answer, but her head was now spinning, and her body felt weighted, as if she were completely exhausted. Rallying her strength, she tilted her head
and asked the most ridiculous question of all.

  “Is there a napkin I can use to wipe my hands?” She held up her sticky fingers like a child, and felt slightly tipsy in her speech. Wow, one little glass of ale wouldn’t do this.

  Elthea said nothing in response to Maggie’s outburst and simply reached for the basin of water.

  “This isn’t Candid Camera, is it?” Maggie stated in a tone of resignation.

  The Countess Elthea still did not answer. Maggie watched in dazed astonishment as the woman actually began to take her hands and submerge them into the lukewarm water. Elthea gently massaged her fingers, then palms, and Maggie wanted to moan with the wonderful relaxing sensation. “Pull yourself together here, Maggie,” she said under her breath. Before she got any deeper into this insane asylum, she had to start figuring a way to get out. Elthea lifted her left hand and patted it dry with a small silky handkerchief she pulled out from under the tray. She looked up from her service and smiled sweetly at Maggie when she released her right hand.

  “Thank you,” Maggie murmured, feeling quite pampered by the experience. Geez, she inhaled, realizing she couldn’t relax now. This was too bizarre, and she had to get out of this place quickly. “But now, I must leave. I have to find the faire and my aunt. She will be very worried if I don’t at least contact her or get back soon.” She pushed the heavy chair away from the table and rose.

  The room seemed to become fluid before her eyes, and she had to balance herself by placing both palms on the table. “Wow… maybe I shouldn’t have drunk that ale. What was in it, anyway? It was awfully sweet, and I tasted ginger and orange.”

  “The drink? Simple mead, child, a weak honey drink. Come with me, dear Margaret, it is time to rest. A chamber has been prepared, and we are in full service to receive thee in a proper embrace.”

  Blinking, desperately trying to bring some focus into not just her vision but also her mind, Maggie spoke each word with deliberate intention. “I can’t rest now, I have to… umm, to—” What did she have to do again? It took a few seconds to retrieve her thought. “Oh, yeah. I have to leave this place and find my aunt and get back to my own time. This isn’t my time.”