by Ada Bright
She glanced at Jane in the back seat. ‘Will you tell us now what this is all about?’
Jane shook her head. ‘All will be revealed in due course. I must beg patience from you both; first we must go back.’ With that Jane fiddled with her seat belt until it released, then sat expectantly. Rose looked at Aiden, who returned her stare blankly.
‘Aiden, if you don’t want to be a part of this, then it’s best you leave us here.’
He took her hands in his, ignoring the ‘tsk’ from the back seat. ‘I’ll tag along for now.’
Rose smiled. ‘Well then, I’m afraid she’s waiting for you to open her door.’
Aiden glanced back. ‘Oh, of course.’ He slid out of the car smoothly, despite his borrowed clothes, opened Jane’s door and leaned down to peer through the car just as Rose’s hand reached for her own handle. ‘You’d best wait there as well.’
Rose sat back in surprise. Had Aiden just winked at her? He couldn’t possibly believe this, could he? Perhaps he thought it was a bit of a game, a ruse. She’d better enjoy these last moments with him before he ran screaming from her.
Taking Aiden’s hand when he opened her door, Rose was reluctant to let go of it, but Jane’s pointed stare reminded them both of her earlier warning. She clearly felt they needed to get into practice.
‘If you have kept anything upon you of modern contrivance, it must remain here, for it cannot pass through.’ Jane waved a hand in their general direction. ‘Join me across the road when you are ready.’
‘But where can we put it to keep it safe?’ There was no answer from the departing figure, and Rose looked around at the empty car park, surrounded by trees on three sides. How could they conceal anything here and not expect it to be found?
Aiden walked round and opened the boot, removing the small trunk of assorted clothing and lifting the base to reveal the spare wheel area.
‘This will have to do.’ He put his wallet and phone in the boot, and Rose added her keys and purse too; then he eyed his car keys warily. ‘I’ll have to take a gamble with these and put them under the wheel arch.’
Rose chewed on her lip, found Aiden watching her and shrugged. ‘Last time, time didn’t move on. Everything came back to normal, just resumed at the same day and time as we’d left behind. Unless someone is going to jump out of the bushes as soon as we’re gone, there probably isn’t much risk.’
‘Last time,’ Aiden repeated quietly as he replaced the trunk and closed the boot, locked the car and crouched down to conceal the keys. ‘You mean the last time you travelled through time.’
Colour flew into Rose’s cheeks. ‘No. Not exactly.’ She looked across the street. Jane was watching them, and Rose turned back to face Aiden as he straightened. ‘Look, Aiden, I started off convinced she was a madwoman too…’
‘Who’d somehow convinced you she was Jane Austen?’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Why is it I feel like I’m being drawn under her spell, too? Why am I almost believing she is who she says, even considering it might be possible to travel back in time with her? Is the fascination with history flowing in my veins tempting me to believe I could do the impossible?’
Rose had no chance to respond to this as her name was hissed from across the street, and before long they stood surveying the Jane Austen House Museum, all shuttered up for the night. There was no one in the street, despite the mild evening, but light still spilled out from the nearby Greyfriar pub, which had only recently closed its doors.
No car lights approached from either direction, and the lady urged them over to stand beside the open gate into the garden of Chawton cottage.
‘How did you open that?’ Rose stared at Jane. Did she have powers of her own Rose had yet to hear about?
Jane, however, looked unimpressed by her own prowess. ‘It has no catch – can you not see? Come; let us make haste.’ She extracted a leather pouch and opened it, holding aloft a gold chain bearing a topaz cross, and Aiden frowned, instinctively reaching a hand towards it.
‘Wait! Isn’t that—?‘
‘Beware, Dr Trevellyan.’ The lady drew back a little. ‘The charm has powers of its own.’
‘But Jane…’ Rose pointed at the relatively short chain, thinking instinctively of Hermione Granger and her time-turner. ‘How will there be room for all three of us at once?’
‘There is not. An attempt at combining the chains from the other two necklaces with this one was made, but it did not oblige.’
Aiden’s brow raised. ‘There are three of them? I thought—’ He stopped as Rose shook her head at him before turning back to Jane.
‘But how will it work for all of us?’
‘You must not worry so, Rose. One would have to be very foolish not to have made a prior attempt. We merely need to be in contact with each other when I make use of the charm.’
Like side-along apparition, mused Rose. Morgan would be highly entertained by this. Morgan!
‘Jane, I need to send a quick text.’ She fished in her reticule for her phone and tapped into it, only to find Jane taking it from her as she hit send.
‘You must leave it behind, Rose.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. I wasn’t thinking.’ Relieved to have at least sent her friend a message so she wouldn’t worry for the present, Rose watched Aiden walk back over to the car to place the phone in the boot. She sighed softly as it was closed and he replaced the keys before turning back to join them as they walked through the gate and followed Jane to a shadowed corner of the garden.
‘We are safe here. There is nothing for us to disturb when we arrive.’ Jane tucked the pouch away, the necklace held in one hand.
Rose looked around, startled. She’d hardly thought about what the garden might contain back then.
‘I must ask you both to step closer.’
Aiden and Rose instinctively stepped towards each other, and Jane rolled her eyes. ‘Not to each other, to me.’
‘Oh!’ Rose stood beside Jane as Aiden took up a position on her other side, and the lady urged them a little nearer still.
‘You may take hands for this, and you must both rest your other hand on my nearest arm to you. Do not break contact. Once we are connected, I will place the charm about my neck.’
Rose’s heart was pounding fiercely as Aiden took her hand firmly in his grip and squeezed it. Clear grey eyes met rich brown ones, and they stared at each other for a moment before each placing a hand on one of Jane’s arms. Rose felt a brush of air as Jane raised her hand to place the chain about her neck, and then everything went black.
Chapter 2
‘Rose?’
Jane’s voice sounded amused.
‘Hmm?’
‘You may open your eyes.’
She may, but could she? Unaware she had even closed them, Rose tried, but for some reason her lids felt heavy, as though they had no interest in lifting. She was still clutching someone – was it Jane’s arm, or Aiden’s hand? She could barely tell; her senses felt all out of sorts.
‘It’s fine, honestly, we’re okay.’ Aiden’s whispered words close to her ear were all she needed. Rose’s eyes flew open to find him barely inches from her. She looked down, suddenly conscious she was gripping Aiden’s hand perhaps a little too strongly, and she released him as she took a step back to look around.
It was darker – the street lamps had all gone, and underfoot was a gravel path instead of the neatly kept lawns she was used to walking on at the museum.
‘Wait here. I must establish who has yet to retire. Mama must not know what we are about.’ Jane set off towards a door at the back of the house, and Rose glanced at Aiden. He was not looking at the house but beyond her, and she turned around. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness now, aided by a full moon.
‘I thought there was a boundary there!’ The gardens, which bore little resemblance as far as she could see to the ones surrounding Chawton Cottage in the present day, extended off into the darkness.
‘There was, but the grounds w
ere much more extensive in the Austens’ day.’
His voice sounded strained, and Rose touched his arm. ‘Are you okay?’
Aiden looked down at her, but it was too dark to read the expression in his eyes.
‘I wanted to believe you; I didn’t want, after all this time, to find out you were delusional, but…’
‘I don’t blame you. It’s impossible, after all.’
Aiden stepped closer. ‘There are many things I once thought were impossible.’ He touched her cheek, tucked a loose curl behind her ear. The only sounds were an owl hooting somewhere in the treetops and the trickling of water somewhere to their left. Aiden’s gaze drifted away from her, straining as he stared left and right as though, if he tried hard enough, he would be able to see through the darkness. His expression was unreadable in the shadowed garden, but she bit her lip. Was this going to make or break them?
‘What are you thinking?’ Rose whispered.
Aiden said nothing for a moment, but his eyes found hers again and he smiled faintly. ‘Best you don’t know right now.’
‘Rose! Dr Trevellyan! Come, you must make haste.’
They both turned around. Jane was at the corner of the house, beckoning them, and they hurried to meet her.
* * *
‘Good morning, Miss Wallace. I trust you slept well?’
Rose started, pulled from her reverie as she stared out of the window of the dining room at the row of labourers’ cottages opposite. How different it looked from the present day, where the Greyfriar pub and Cassandra’s Cup tearoom normally stood.
‘Good morning, Miss Austen.’ Rose tried not to stare at Cassandra Austen as she walked across the room to join her at the window. She knew the lady was forty, and she didn’t look it, having a tall, erect posture and handsome features. The contradicting factor was the traditional muslin cap of the older lady she presently wore. Rose had heard so much about her from Jane that she’d long become a living, breathing person to her, but all the same…
Cassandra must have understood some of her feelings, for she smiled reassuringly. ‘My sister will be with us directly. It is her duty to prepare the first meal of the day.’ She indicated the table. ‘Do please be seated. Would you care for a dish of tea or does your preference lean, like my sister’s, towards chocolate?’
‘Oh! Er, chocolate please.’ Rose took a seat, then looked at her wrist – to no avail. How was it she missed things like a watch and her phone so much already? She glanced around the room, then said tentatively, ‘What is the time?’
Cassandra was straightening from placing a dish of water on the floor next to an empty cushion.
‘Past the hour of nine. Mama will be here directly, and then we may break our fast. Please excuse me; I must fetch more bread.’
As Cassandra left the room, Rose sighed softly. She had barely slept at all, and not just because of the strange taste in her mouth from the powder she had been offered to clean her teeth. Her mind had been full of questions, her heart pounding in her chest over what she’d just done. She’d travelled back in time by 200 years and more! It wasn’t possible. Of course it wasn’t. Even though she knew Jane had slipped through time to the future, the reality of doing it herself wasn’t something Rose had ever contemplated.
Drawing in a shallow breath, Rose looked around the room, noting anything that seemed familiar to how it was represented in the future, but she was distracted by how it felt rather than looked – above all, lived in, as well it should, with the sound of humming coming from somewhere and a large copper kettle singing in unison on the grate.
And what of Jane? She was different too – ten years older than when Rose had last seen her, just days ago! Used to her being in modern dress, albeit rather conservative, it had seemed odd the night before to see her in her natural habitat, dressed according to the day, the same muslin cap as her sister’s adorning her chestnut curls.
Last night, it had been a whirlwind, with swift introductions to Cassandra (Mrs Austen having retired already) and Jane’s brother, Charles, who had barely been introduced before he swept Aiden from the room.
Agitated, Rose got to her feet again and walked back to the window, staring unseeingly out into the street. How was Aiden feeling this morning? Had he slept at all? What had his time been like at Chawton House? Why had this had to happen now?
Rose blew out a frustrated breath. She was twenty-seven years old, and there were so many good things in her life – her cosy flat at No 4 Sydney Place and her challenging but enjoyable job working with James Malcolm at Luxury Lettings of Bath. She’d been having the best week of her life, finally getting to meet Morgan in person after all these years, attending the Jane Austen Festival with her, and then Aiden… Rose’s insides lurched as she recalled their kisses last night. These things were solid and good and Rose hadn’t really had time to process how beautifully folded together everything was in the exact moment when Jane had resurfaced.
Jane Austen… another wonderful part of Rose’s life, until she’d met her. Jane had an uncanny ability to turn Rose’s orderly life upside down!
‘Good morning, Rose.’
Rose spun around. ‘Er – good morning, Miss Jane?’ There was a question in her voice, and Jane smiled as she crossed the room to check on the large copper kettle.
‘You have the right of it, Miss Wallace. Mama will expect formality, and she has yet to comprehend the level of our acquaintance. When she is not present, however, we may speak as we wish.’
Feeling a little easier now Jane was in the room, Rose returned to the table, soon joined by Cassandra and Mrs Austen, who, it seemed, had been forewarned an acquaintance of her daughter’s would be arriving late on the previous evening, but not where she had come from.
Rose was a little confused; hadn’t Mr and Mrs Austen been told where Jane had gone when she got trapped in the future? She would have to ask Jane later.
‘It is not to your liking?’
Cassandra gestured towards the cup of chocolate, and Rose shook her head. ‘I am sorry; I am used to it being a little sweeter.’
‘Of course.’ Cassandra smiled, but Jane tutted and, grabbing the sugar tongs, dropped a piece of something brown and misshapen into the cup.
‘Manners, Jane!’ Mrs Austen frowned at her daughter and launched into a diatribe Rose could tell had been heard many a time before, if the blank expression on Jane’s face was anything to go by as she turned to pick up the toasting fork.
Rose’s insides rumbled and she clutched her stomach. No one seemed to have heard, and she warily eyed the piece of dense-looking cake on her plate – pound cake, she had been told – made by Martha Lloyd, the fourth lady resident at the cottage.
‘Where is Martha?’ She spoke the words without thinking, and Mrs Austen turned to Rose with a frown.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Jane threw Rose a warning look as she pushed a piece of toast off the fork onto her plate, and she felt warmth filling her cheeks.
‘I – er – forgive me, Mrs Austen. I meant Miss Martha Lloyd. I – I was given to understand by Miss Jane that she lived here with you?’
Mrs Austen studied Rose with an assessing eye for a moment, then raised her chin. ‘Martha has gone to stay with her sister for a short while, which makes your visit most fortuitous.’
For the first time, she smiled, and Rose lowered her gaze swiftly to avoid staring. Mrs Austen, it appeared, was lacking a few of her teeth. Eyes on her plate, Rose broke off a piece of the pound cake and sniffed it. Was it plum?
‘You do not enquire as to why it is fortuitous, Miss Wallace? Your lack of curiosity is remarkable.’
‘Mama!’ Cassandra threw Rose a reassuring look. ‘Miss Wallace arrived very late last night after a lengthy journey. She is no doubt suffering from an excess of tiredness this morning.’
‘Hmph. I do not see it as fitting for young women to be travelling late at night, unescorted.’
‘I wasn’t – I was not unescorted.’ Rose glan
ced at Jane. What was she to say? Mrs Austen possibly had no idea Jane had been with her; was she allowed to mention Aiden at all?
‘Miss Wallace travelled with a friend; he is with Edward at the great house, Mama. You will make his acquaintance later this morning.’
Filled with relief to know she would see Aiden soon, Rose popped some of the cake into her mouth. The consistency was much drier than she was used to, and she cleared her throat after swallowing, then reached for her cup. The brownish lump seemed to have dissolved, and she took a cautious sip, then shuddered.
‘I trust you had a servant with you? Travelling unchaperoned with a young man is hardly an improvement on journeying alone.’
‘We were chaperoned, Mrs Austen.’ Rose put the cup down and patted her lips with her napkin. ‘Why is my being here fortuitous, ma’am?’
‘Martha oversees all meals but breakfast. Cook has some talents, but an extra pair of hands in the kitchen will be beneficial in her absence. You do bake, Miss Wallace?’
* * *
The garden in daylight held little familiarity to Rose, other than the service buildings across the courtyard. She glanced at the large open barn (now the museum entrance and gift shop), trying to take it all in, her gaze drifting over the now-working well, past the ‘necessary’ to what in the present day was a pleasant cottage garden with extensive lawns.
There was little grass and every space seemed allocated to a particular purpose: a fair-sized kitchen garden, a shrubbery walk, an orchard of fruit trees and bushes, laden with fruit ripe for the picking and borders of sweet-smelling flowers, and an extensive herb garden. Wandering about near the orchard were several chickens and, if Rose wasn’t mistaken, a couple of pigs!
The bray of a donkey drew her gaze to the farther reaches of the garden, which extended at least three times further along the Winchester road. Turning on her heel, Rose tried to take it all in, then raised her brows in surprise as she took in the cottage itself. It had been so dark the night before, and she had been so disorientated by what had happened, she’d barely paid it any attention, but now she could see the familiar red brick was concealed beneath some sort of whitewash. She looked over towards the road as the loud clatter of hooves and rolling wheels reached her, but there was nothing to see. A tall hedge bordered the garden, with glimpses of a high wooden fence behind, and Rose turned away and ambled along, enjoying the weak sunshine filtering through the trees and mulling over how bizarre it would look if she’d managed to bring her sunglasses with her. She glanced down as she walked.
