Once and Forever

by Constance O'Day-Flannery

  Maggie prayed the shaking in her body would cease before it was transmitted to Robert. He was parading her in front of more men and women, who continued to bow and curtsy as they passed. She had to remind herself not to look into anyone’s eyes, to smile demurely in acknowledgment, and to make sure she didn’t trip on her skirts.

  Robert continued to introduce her to an earl, several “Sirs,” and many ladies. Nod. Curtsy. Smile sweetly.

  Okay, she had it down now.

  “And the acquaintance of our musician friend and poet, Master Nicholas Layton, has already been thine, I understand.”

  This time she did look in someone’s eyes, and her breath caught at the back of her throat at what she was seeing. Nick’s eyes seemed to probe her soul for just a moment, before he bowed, lowered his gaze, and murmured, “Lady Norreys, ’tis a pleasure to be in thy presence again.”

  Maggie found her smile was genuine. Just as she was about to offer her hand for his kiss, Robert’s grip suddenly tightened. He conducted her through the room to the head table.

  She was happy to see Nick again, though if she were honest, she’d just admit that Nicholas Layton was taking up way too much of her thinking lately. And how could he not, after that great night? Stop it, she again warned herself. This is not the time to swoon over Nick when Robert was standing next to me. Sheesh! Swoon? I’m even starting to think like these people!

  Once seated, she exhaled her tension and thought she might just make it through this night after all, as a servant filled her goblet with wine. She couldn’t help smiling at the young boy who shyly stole a peek at her face.

  People began taking their places at the tables in the hall as the sound of conversation once more filled the room. She could just imagine the topic. Holding her chin higher, she glanced at Elthea. The woman was beaming.

  “Thy early appearance took us quite by surprise, m’lady,” Robert stated in a loud voice, as his gaze seemed to be riveted on her. It was obvious he wanted to be overheard.

  “Lady Margaret, with regard to thy wardrobe…”

  Oh no, where was he going with this?

  “Perchance, you have seen the many fabrics delivered just this day? It was at my request our local mercer imported the finest silks for thy preference.”

  “Why yes, m’lord. Your mother was kind enough to show them to me earlier.” She was glad Elthea had stopped her in that sewing room on the way down to the party.

  “We employ an excellent French seamstress, and the mistress is well abreast of the latest fashions from Spain, Germany, and France. And a right industrious thing she is, I might add…” A couple of his cronies smirked along with him.

  From the sound of it, he was probably having an affair with her. Even in four hundred years, not much had changed in that department. “Mmm,” was all she could remark with the goblet of wine to her lips. Good thing.

  “A fine new wardrobe and a much larger celebration is planned for thee. Thou art worthy of only the best, Lady Norreys of Rycote.”

  Okay, he wasn’t going to get an argument out of her on that point. If the true Lady Margaret was going to suffer the rest of her life through all his egocentric comments, his shirttail-hanging cronies spying on her, and quite possibly his adultery with the manor staff… well, at least she could be spoiled in the comforts of luxury. Still, she was glad it wasn’t she, for no amount of luxury could make up for a bad marriage.

  “I thank thee humbly for thy graciousness, m’lord,” she said, confirming the deal for the other woman.

  “As you may not be aware, Lady Margaret, I, too, have spent some time abroad… I do hope you might demonstrate the newest dances of France.” He leaned slightly forward. “I make a marvelous student, and have been told by many that I have much grace and agility.” His boast was met with surrounding approval.

  She nearly rolled her eyes. What an ego. And now she had to spend the evening listening to it. It wouldn’t bother her so much, except she had the distinct impression his words were meant for his cronies’ approval more than hers. Much safer to keep her eyes cast down on her lap, because if she raised them, she just might find the courage to drop his arrogance a notch or two.

  “As you wish, m’lord,” she modestly responded.

  What dances anyway? The only ones she knew would shock them. She might need a lot more than one glass of wine to make it through this night.

  “Indeed…” Robert sounded pleased. Again.

  It was obvious Act One had begun.

  Nick watched her sitting next to Amesbury and found his back teeth gnashing in annoyance. By what right did he have to feel such discomfort in watching her play the role of Amesbury’s betrothed? None, his mind answered, yet his heart was singing out to the woman, wondering if she, too, recognized the connection between them. Last night he had sworn he had seen it reflected in her wondrous eyes. Their discussion of time had been most informative… for them both. Countess Elthea had spoken to him earlier, confirming that such feats as transportation through place and time were plausible and there were records of instances in which it had occurred. The myths of gods had spoken of it, the Bible, the ancient mysteries he had been studying with Francis, his mentor, made mention of the immense power of the mind to manifest itself in two places, yet even that, as incredible as it might sound, could not deter him from pursuing this miraculous woman. Mistress Maggie Whitaker really was the one who haunted his dreams, who inspired his songs, who would complete his soul! He knew it.

  What he had seen last night before the fire, as he instructed her in the etiquette of conversing with Lord Robert, had robbed him of reason. Either she was an accomplished actress, which he was less apt to believe, or she really had traveled from the future. But why… ? His mind continued to torture him. Surely not to play Margaret of Norreys for this night of deception. For what other reason would she have traveled back in time? He was most anxious to visit Francis to seek counsel on the matter.

  “Nicholas, I am told thou art the one who intercepted Lady Margaret in the wood.”

  He blinked, bringing himself back into the present. “Aye. Her ladyship suffered a mishap in her travels, and I was fortunate to have come upon her in a time of distress.”

  Marjorie Radcliffe, a maid of honor and an earl’s daughter, leaned closer to him, and coyly remarked, “How chivalrous of thee, dear Nicholas. Pray tell, is it true Lady Norreys is most peculiar? The rumors… ?”

  He felt oddly protective toward the real Lady Margaret and especially Maggie, who sat next to Amesbury, with her eyes downcast as she played the meek future wife.

  “I find Lady Margaret to be most enchanting,” he answered truthfully.

  “Beware, Layton,” a male voice called from down the table. “Our host is most protective of his newest acquisition, I hear.”

  “I only pay the lady a high compliment,” Nick answered casually, seeing the speaker was one of Amesbury’s intimates. Montague. The man was reputed to be a sword for hire, a scoundrel of the worst kind. They were not seated all that far, as not to be heard by the head table. He would swallow his retort and protect his lady. He thought of Maggie as his…. Now he only had to convince her of that.

  Suddenly tankards started pounding tables, one after the other, until the hall was resounding with the clatter. Nick looked to Maggie and saw Robert whispering the meaning. He also registered the horror upon her countenance when she realized that to stop the noise she must accept a chaste kiss.

  Again, he ground his back teeth together in annoyance.

  Maggie looked to Elthea, who smiled reassuringly then looked back to a guest farther away. Obviously, she couldn’t ask for help with this. The whisper of “kiss” was beginning to creep up through the rumble. Seeing all the excited faces around the large hall, hearing the laughter of the men and women amid the banging of mugs upon the wooden tables… Maggie knew she was alone in this one.

  She sighed. “One kiss upon my cheek, m’lord. Then ask for no more.”

  Robert looked
affronted. “No more? But thou art my betrothed!” he said loudly and with forced laughter that his cronies supported.

  “Not yet. I am here to discuss the terms of our marriage, am I not?” Enough with hiding her face and pretending to be some meek woman. She would soon scream if she had to sit through an entire evening next to this pretentious, arrogant windbag and listen to his hall of rowdy friends and his assertions of how pleased he was that everyone kissed his noble behind.

  Suddenly, like radar homing in on her, she could feel Countess Elthea’s petrified stare.

  “The terms were arranged and agreed upon many months ago, Lady Margaret,” Robert shot back suddenly in a serious voice.

  “But… how could they be discussed, m’lord, when this is our first meeting?” There. She had them on that one. At least, that’s what this whole introduction was for, wasn’t it?

  The banging increased as the man stared at her.

  “’Tis neither the place nor the time to amend our contract. I am satisfied our original agreement is unequivocal. I suggest thee also find comfort in the alliance terms forth written.”

  Shit. Now he’s mad. Okay, maybe she was overstepping some proprietorial boundaries for the real Lady Margaret, but she figured maybe she might save the woman at least some defilement.

  “Oh, do kiss me, Robert, so we all may eat in peace.” She quickly recovered the original subject, and offered her cheek.

  “Hoorah!” The room resounded with the cheer.

  The kiss, when given, was… reluctant. Obviously, she had displeased Robert by not remaining meek. Well, at least now maybe Robert would get the idea he couldn’t bully or take advantage of his bride-to-be. It was the least she could do, Maggie thought, for borrowing the woman’s identity.

  Maggie shook her head, yet watched as a servant filled her goblet anyway. Mentally shrugging, she decided to avoid Elthea’s cautious looks and just be herself now. Besides, nobody said Robert was gonna kiss her! She had more of a grasp of this formal language to get by now. She certainly had enough intelligence to hold her own, even with Robert. Talk about role-playing! But now… she was going to play it to the hilt. She might as well enjoy herself. It was a celebration after all… and in her honor.

  Just as her confidence rose, Maggie looked out to the seated guests and spied a young woman leaning toward Nicholas with an expression of what could only be termed adoration. She found she was annoyed and had to remind herself to relax. What did it matter if a hundred young women looked at him like that? She was leaving this insanity tomorrow and would never see any of them again. Still, she had to acknowledge more than a twinge of curiosity about the woman and her relationship to Nick. They seemed pretty familiar with each other.

  Realizing Robert was glancing at her, Maggie stopped her ridiculous musings and smiled. Okay, she’d probably ruined the man’s night. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to be nice, she thought.

  Robert seemed pleased by her smile and picked up his goblet. “I drink this wine, savoring its sweetness, until my thirst may be quenched by something more delicious.”

  Whoa! Maggie mentally called out to him. He was taking this flirtation way over boundaries for a first meeting. Then she wondered if Margaret and Robert had written and become more intimate in letters. It might explain his outright seductive manner.

  Great! And Elthea didn’t inform her how close Elthea’s son was to her cousin. Sheesh… it sounded like something from a daytime soap opera! Having sold air-time and received big bucks for those afternoon hours, Maggie mentally shrugged and figured every generation was probably dysfunctional. Why expect anything else?

  “You haven’t sipped to my toast, dear cousin.”

  Maggie blinked a few times, then picked up her goblet and drank deeply. It was way too confusing to figure out. Replacing the heavy silver goblet, obviously a family heirloom, Maggie then turned to Elthea, who was looking out to the gathering and smiling.

  “Is that a real one?” she leaned over and whispered. “The smile.”

  Elthea seemed surprised and then a wider smile appeared. “Yes, child. That was real. I was just observing dear Nicholas, as he artfully dodges Lady Marjorie’s advances. It would make a good match.”

  Maggie immediately looked toward Nick and saw him smiling at something the woman was saying. “How charming.” Her voice sounded just a tad dull, even to her own ears, and she cringed, hoping she hadn’t revealed more than she had wanted.

  “Yes, it is charming,” Elthea answered. “Marjorie would make a fine wife, yet I do believe my young friend Nicholas is searching for his dream.”

  Now this was interesting! “A dream? What do you mean?”

  Elthea nodded to a man at a nearby table and turned back to Maggie.

  “Have you not noticed yet, child, that Nicholas is a dreamer? That is his soul, wondrous and expansive and deep. I do enjoy being in his company. He reminds me there is hope.”

  Trying not to look at Nick, Maggie answered, “What does all that mean?”

  “That Nicholas is a fine man, who has not closed his mind. He believes in something that cannot be corrupted, manipulated, or sold. Now you should return to your companion before he takes affront.” Elthea smiled and turned to talk to the man seated next to her.

  Maggie just stared at the back of Elthea’s headdress, wondering what the heck had just happened. As she turned her attention back to Robert, Maggie couldn’t help taking a peek at Nick. What was it that he believed in? she wondered, just as the man lifted his head and looked right back at her. It was as if the space between them collapsed, like nothing else existed in that timeless moment, except them and the almost tangible charge of electricity between them. Shocked, Maggie broke the gaze and brought her attention to the man at her side. Thankfully, he was watching a servant place a huge roasted leg upon his plate.

  She barely had time to recover as her own serving was placed in front of her. Robert grinned at her, as though very happy with the meal. She could just guess.

  He was pleased. Again.

  “I am pleased,” he announced, before digging into his food.

  Maggie couldn’t believe he’d said it, and she laughed without thought to the consequences. Immediately, she covered her mouth with her hand as those nearest her watched for Robert’s reaction.

  Slowly, as if considering whether or not to be offended, Robert said in a voice intended to be heard by all, “I am pleased by your pleasure at mine own, m’lady. This is a feast, for I am to be married!”

  Cheers broke out and everyone raised their drinks in celebration. Even Maggie. It was a small price to pay for seeing that the emperor wore no clothes and laughing about it! At least she wouldn’t lose her head. As soon as that thought raced through her mind she wondered why, and then remembered stories she’d heard that anyone who had dared to point out to those in authority that they, too, were human, often lost their lives for it.

  Sheesh, she was starting to think like Elthea now!

  Again, she lowered her gaze to her plate and vowed to leave this place before she was swallowed in the fantasy.

  Nick felt his whole body come alive with a recognition that raced through his limbs to settle on his heart. It was odd to experience this strange mixture of joy and dread, yet that is exactly what happened when Mistress Maggie Whitaker laughed at Lord Amesbury. Something within him cracked open, and he was even more sure that Maggie had traveled to this time for him. He had found her, after all. She didn’t run into Robert out there in the wood. It was to him she announced herself, and he had to stifle his own laughter when he remembered her shrieks of terror when she’d emerged from the trees. But he held his station, for like all others present he feared that Robert’s infamous temper would win out and was greatly relieved when the man handled Maggie’s laughter with more grace than any expected. The cheers that followed were not so much for the man’s words, as for not spoiling the festivities.

  He, too, had raised his glass, but in his eyes and in his heart he was saluting an
honest soul. He attempted to appear as though nothing extraordinary had happened, yet he knew within him that Maggie Whitaker had come to his time for a reason. Francis had drilled into him that there were no accidents. Everything had a reason to be. It was only one’s perspective that could bring about clarity.

  “She does seem an odd one,” Lady Marjorie murmured, after the cheers had given way to conversation.

  Nick shrugged his shoulders, as though the topic of conversation were of no importance. “I wish the lady happiness.”

  “You are such a romantic, Nicholas Layton,” the lady cooed. “Have you a new song for us this night?”

  “I have,” he said, and stabbed another turnip.

  “How delightful! I do so admire your talent, Master Layton, as does many a lady I would dare say.”

  Her maidenly giggle only seemed to annoy him. All he could think about was when Maggie was turning from Elthea and had caught his gaze. His heart was demanding his attention to listen as the words he had waited his entire life to hear resounded in his mind over and over and over again. . . .

  She’s the one.

  Maggie felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. Her breath seemed trapped somewhere between her lungs and her throat. Her mind was reeling. Her hands shaking. What the hell was happening? She had felt his attention, like someone tickling her nerve endings. When she slowly looked up from her plate, Nick was staring at her. The woman at his side was talking to him, and yet he continued to hold her gaze across the space that separated them. It was as though he were speaking to her in her mind, demanding that she remember him.

  This is insanity. Maggie again broke the contact and looked down to the turnips before her. She could not be feeling like this again… this urge to meld with another, to open her heart once more. Not now! And not with him!

  Her mind ticked off the many reasons why she should banish such thoughts immediately. She hardly knew him. He was another artist, this time a singer! He was younger and, oh yeah, lest she forget… he claimed he was from another time! How much more bizarre did this adventure have to get?