by Ada Bright
Rose’s resolve crumbled a little further. ‘I am…’ She sighed. ‘I am very curious.’
Jane’s smile was smug. ‘As I believed you would be.’ Then, she leaned forward and grasped Rose’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. ‘I beg you not to distress yourself over this, Rose. If I am mistaken, nothing is lost that was not lost before. And if I am correct… well, let us endeavour to seek out the truth of the matter.’
With a weak smile, Rose stood up, trying to surrender her doubts for the time being. ‘I need to try and get some sleep.’
Cassandra bade her good night and walked over to the closet housing a bowl and pitcher, and Jane followed Rose out onto the landing.
‘Truly, Rose. Try not to dwell upon it. Once a formal introduction is made, the opening will be formed to find some answers.’
‘I know.’ Rose’s heart quailed at the thought. How did one even begin to address the subject? She would have to ask Aiden and trust in his being with her at the time… She frowned and turned to Jane.
‘It is obvious why you brought me here, but why Aiden? You’d never met him.’ The frown deepened. ‘And how did you come to have men’s clothing in that trunk?’
Jane looked evasive for a second, but then she smiled. ‘The former, I am not inclined to answer for the present. The latter…’ She shrugged. ‘The clothes are an assortment left with us by James for mending and alteration.’ She tilted her head. ‘Do you not feel the benefit of Mr Trevellyan’s presence?’
‘Yes, of course, but…’
Jane fell into step beside Rose, urging her along the landing.
‘Had you been with your friend when I arrived, I may have suggested bringing her instead. She struck me as an intrepid companion, one who would stand by you in all circumstances.’
Fondness for Morgan swept through Rose. ‘It is as well she knows nothing of what is happening here. I’m not sure, when I return, if I’ll ever tell her; she’d never believe me.’
‘She will be so pleased to see you, perchance she will not trouble herself over where you have been.’
‘I’m just relieved time is not moving on for her. When I get back, she’ll be exactly as I left her, safe with James at her apartment.’
Jane threw Rose a searching look as they reached the bedroom she had been given on the previous night.
‘You are mistaken. Time is moving on where you came from.’
Rose sank back against the doorframe. ‘But why? It didn’t move on when you were stuck.’
‘Dear Rose.’ Jane shook her head at her. ‘These are not the same. When I slip through time, everything continues here in my absence, and the same will apply to you – and to Mr Trevellyan and his life.’
‘But I don’t understand.’ Rose’s head was starting to spin.
‘When I became trapped in your time, we entered a different strand of your life, the one where I had not been part of it, and your original life stalled. You did not move through time. Do you not recall it to be so? Your old life no longer existed, nor did the life strands of the people in it. Yet for myself, here in the past, it was not so. My old life continued to move on.’
‘I’d forgotten!’ Rose’s insides dipped as she turned to Jane in dismay. ‘What am I to do? I have to go back. Morgan will be panic-struck! I sent her a text but it only said I was with Aiden and would see her the next day. That’s now, today, and today is over!’
‘You wish to go back with all that is unresolved?’
‘No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know!’ Rose felt like stamping her foot. Why was this all so difficult? ‘But I have to reassure Morgan.’ Her hand shot to her throat as realisation struck. ‘Tomorrow is Friday, it’s the day of the ball. We were supposed to be at the hairdressers, getting our hair put up. Morgan won’t accept my going off on a little jaunt on such an important day!’
Jane didn’t seem particularly perturbed by Rose’s anxiety. ‘You have no need to despair. Once you are restored to your time, she will be pacified; the harm will be thus undone.’
‘But Morgan will still be suffering in the meantime. She’ll be distraught.’ Rose clutched her midriff. This was terrible! What had she done by letting Jane persuade her to come? ‘She’ll be convinced something awful has happened, go to the police.’
Jane shrugged, repeating, ‘All will be well once you are returned to your time.’
‘Wait!’ A surge of hope spun through Rose. ‘Can you take me back to the very moment we left yesterday?’
Jane, however, was shaking her head. ‘The charm is not all-powerful, Rose. It has one function and one alone. It cannot move me from one location to another, be it through time or otherwise, and it does not permit me to choose the day of my arrival, merely moves me by year.’
Rose tried to grasp what she was saying. ‘So… whatever the day and month it is, that remains the same wherever you go, forward or back? Only the year changes?’
‘Indeed.’ Jane brightened for a moment, and hope began to rise in Rose’s breast again. ‘Though if you wish to return to the exact day in September as you left, you have but to tarry here until next year.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Though I fear it will not be to Mama’s liking.’ She eyed Rose keenly. ‘But I see this will not suffice. So be it. As soon as we have broken our fast on the morrow, we will consider the options.’
* * *
Rose tossed and turned in her small bed for what felt like hours, though probably was little more than one. The first night, she’d lay awake, her mind spinning, astounded by the strangeness and novelty of her situation. It was as if she’d landed in a dream (notwithstanding the fact she had to use a loo in the garden). She’d gone from being kissed by the man she’d been crushing on for three years to slipping through to the era and home of Jane Austen. Enough to keep anyone awake.
Yet now there was the added complexity of Christopher Wallace, who he was, and the possibility that, even now, the police were in her flat investigating her disappearance. How she longed for the simplicity of her old life!
She rolled over, her eyes straining against the inky darkness towards the wall beside her bed – a wall that, in the future, would display artefacts relating to Jane’s sailor brothers.
With a sigh, she flopped over onto her back, kicking off the heavy coverlet. Wearing a full-length cotton nightgown, albeit with short sleeves, just felt like too many clothes to sleep in, never mind the cotton cap on top of her curls.
What time was it? With no clock in the room – not that she would be able to read its face in the darkness – there was no way of telling. Her lids dropped over eyes, scratchy with tiredness. She had to get some sleep. Without a clear mind, how on earth would she make any sense of what may happen tomorrow?
Rose’s eyes flew open barely seconds later. Had she heard something? The sound came again and she sat up. Something had just hit the outside wall of her room.
With only the fire’s glowing embers to guide her, Rose crept over to the window. After a moment’s struggle with the iron bar holding the shutter closed, she managed to open it, only to let out a gasp as something hit her window.
Chapter 7
Rose edged closer and peered out, but with nothing but a partially clouded moon by way of lighting, it was impossible to see anything. But it had to be Aiden, didn’t it? She lifted the catch and opened the window, longing for the torch on her phone as she leaned out.
‘Aiden? Is that you?’
‘By a name; I know not how to tell thee who I am.’
Rose let out a half sigh, half laugh. Was this really the time for Shakespeare? ‘You’d better be who I think you are! Go into the garden.’
Rose grabbed the candle holder from her bedside table, lit the wick in the remains of the fire and shielded the flame as she hurried along the landing. The stairs had to be the noisiest she had ever stepped on, and she winced with every creak, dreading Jane’s head appearing around her bedroom door, but all remained quiet.
She entered the dining room, wincing again as the door
creaked loudly, and placed the candle holder onto a small dresser before wrestling with the bolts on the front door. Rose stepped outside into the cool night air, then walked along to the gate, into the garden, and had barely passed through it when she was caught up in a solid embrace.
‘This feels so good.’ Rose rested her head against Aiden’s shoulder.
Aiden held her close for a moment. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t find a way to come earlier. The brothers Austen keep a tight ship, though I get the impression Captain Austen would’ve been more helpful had Mr Knight not been there to keep an eye on me.’
Rose laughed softly. ‘I always considered the rules of society so romantic in this era. Not any more. It’s torture.’
She lifted her head and pulled back a little to look up at him as his arms released their hold on her. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness now, the moonlight just sufficient for her to be able to make out his features at these close quarters.
His gaze travelled to her head, and Rose whipped the cap off. ‘Whoops. Forgot about that!’
Aiden didn’t smile, he simply ruffled her curls before taking her hands in his.
‘How are you?’ He inclined his head towards the dark section of garden, which bordered the Wallaces’ residence.
‘Stressed! Mainly about Morgan.’
‘That wasn’t quite what I meant.’ He squeezed her hands gently. ‘I was talking about what’s happening here, not there, which we have no control over.’
Rose sighed, then nodded. ‘I don’t know how I feel. I go back and forth. One minute, I feel we shouldn’t be here, that Jane is just imagining things. The next minute, I’m trying to sort out how I would feel to have half siblings and a stepmother who, to make it all the more incredible, just happens to live next door to Jane Austen.’
‘There isn’t much precedence on it I’m afraid.’
Rose held on tightly to his hands, her eyes never leaving his face. It gave her a strength and comfort she could never have imagined. ‘I saw him.’ Aiden’s grip tightened. ‘And it’s an uncanny resemblance.’
‘Did you speak to him?’
‘Not yet.’ Rose didn’t want to think about the awkwardness of how it was going to be. ‘To complicate things further, Jane reminded me the future or, well… our present, however you want to say it, is moving along without us. Which means Morgan is going to panic if she isn’t already.’
‘I had begun to wonder.’
‘Jane dismisses it, saying all will be well once we are home, but she’s not thinking about the distress and worry I’m causing Morgan in the meantime. We don’t even know how long we’ll be here. I’m supposed to be at my friend, Liz’s, engagement party on Sunday too!’ Rose bit her lip. ‘And what about your life? Your work, family…’ Her voice tailed away. And who else? She knew so little about Aiden; who was dear to him? ‘I wanted to talk to you, to see if you had all the information and measurements you wanted down at the church, because I really think we’d better get back.’
‘We’ll just have to deal with the consequences when we go home later.’ Aiden held her gaze, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. ‘You’re ready to abandon the mystery?’
‘No, yes… It depends on the moment you ask me.’ Rose sighed again. ‘Now I know how all this works, maybe I can come back after I’ve reassured Morgan – and we’ve made sure your car isn’t clamped or stolen.’
Aiden shrugged. ‘I didn’t see any notices. Besides, it’s only a car. You don’t think Morgan will simply think I’ve whisked you off your feet?’
‘She doesn’t even know you… that, er… we’ve… um.’
‘Found each other?’
Rose smiled up at Aiden. ‘Exactly.’
He leaned closer. ‘Remind me how that happened again.’
There was something incredibly romantic, despite the circumstances, in being held in Aiden’s embrace, dressed as he was, and by the time he released her, Rose’s mind was blissfully blank. ‘I should get back inside before I ruin your reputation.’
Aiden laughed, low and quiet. ‘Perish the thought. But actually, I came here for reasons other than attempting to sully your maidenhood. The brothers are going to call on their mother in the morning. If you come up beforehand—’
‘I’m not sure if Jane and Cassandra will be busy with chores – or in Jane’s case, writing.’
‘Even better. If it’s just you, we can walk back together. I think we can rely on Captain Austen to keep Mr Knight a few paces back. If you want to, that is.’
‘It’ll be perfect. Jane said she’ll talk to me in the morning about how we can try to sort all this out. I should be able to update you.’ Rose tried not to think about her sore feet, which were groaning at her betrayal. She smiled up at him, then shivered, the cool air caressing her bare arms. ‘I’d best go in. Thank you for giving me the chance to sleep tonight.’
‘At your service.’ Aiden clicked his heels together and bowed, and they turned to walk back to the gate, hand in hand.
At the corner of the house, he leant down to kiss her once more, and Rose held on to him, wishing he didn’t have to go.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Reluctantly, Rose released his hand. Then, she brightened. ‘If we go back in the morning, we could spend the whole day together. Well, until the ball.’ After Morgan stops hyperventilating. Would Rose tell her where she’d been? Perhaps she’d just distract her with the understanding she and Aiden had come to. After all, Rose’s crush on Aiden had been a frequent and much obsessed over topic between the two friends.
Aiden’s gaze held hers briefly. ‘We’ll spend much more than a day together, Rose Wallace. I promise you that.’
Rose could feel warmth filling her cheeks, not trusting herself to say anything else and conscious of his eyes on her as she walked back to the door. He raised a hand in farewell as she stepped over the threshold, and was quickly enveloped by the darkness.
Closing the door and replacing the bolts as quietly as she could, Rose turned to face the room. Please let Mrs Austen be a heavy sleeper, she prayed fervently, as she picked up her now guttering candle and headed back to bed.
* * *
Rose felt a little less trepidation on entering the dining room the following morning, knowing more of what to expect from the household ritual of breakfast and therefore able to greet Jane, Cassandra and Mrs Austen with a smile.
‘I trust you slept well?’ There was twinkle in Jane’s eye, and Rose hurriedly took her seat.
‘Perfectly well, thank you.’
‘Would you care for some toast, Miss Wallace?’ Cassandra offered her a plate and Rose took a slice. ‘Do you wish for chocolate again, or would you prefer tea?’
‘Oh, tea, please.’
Mrs Austen, who was eyeing Rose over the rim of her cup, lowered it, assessing her guest with a keen stare.
‘Pray, how long do we have the pleasure of your company, Miss Wallace?’
‘Mama!’ Cassandra looked uncomfortable, but Mrs Austen was unfazed.
‘Beyond our immediate family, my dear Cass, we barely entertain here, beyond Miss Benn’s occasional visits. I wish to ascertain we have adequate sufficiency, for our pocket does not.’
‘Indeed.’ Jane opened a corner cupboard and pulled out a long, metal fork. ‘For we are all single women with a propensity for being poor.’ She winked at Rose. ‘’Tis a strong argument in favour of matrimony, is it not?’
Mrs Austen ignored her daughter and turned her attention back to Rose, who placed her own cup on the table and rested her hands in her lap, ready for whatever was coming. ‘Will you be passing the winter with us?’
Rose’s eyes widened. ‘No! At least, not at all, Mrs Austen. I believe I will be leaving—’
‘More toast, Rose— I mean, Miss Wallace?’ Jane all but tipped a piece of barely browned bread from her toasting fork onto Rose’s plate, then turned to her mother. ‘With Martha absent, it does not signify we have an extra mouth to feed, Mama.’
> ‘Hmm.’ Mrs Austen applied herself to her toast. ‘I anticipate word from her shortly on when she will return. Perhaps Miss Wallace will have other friends she can impose upon when she does.’ Then, she frowned, grabbing the toasting fork from Jane’s grasp. ‘What is the meaning of this?’
Jane held her mother’s gaze steadily, and Cassandra looked from one to the other.
‘It skewers bread and holds it in the flame, turning the bread to toast, hence its name.’
‘I comprehend its purpose, Jane, as well you know. This,’ she tossed the fork onto the table, ‘is the old one we discarded. Where is the silver one?’
‘Perchance it has gone the way of the missing cream jug and the salver.’
Cassandra shook her head at her sister, then turned to placate their mother, and Jane cast Rose a swift glance, a smile twitching her lips.
Once the ritual of breakfast was over, Rose went up to her room to get ready for the walk up to Chawton House. Her head had felt much clearer when she had woken, partly from having several hours of sleep and partly from having seen Aiden. The moment she was alone, however, everything she’d tried to hold at bay crowded into her head, and she sank onto the bed, the shoes she was resisting wearing clasped in one hand.
How could she possibly satisfy both things concerning her – her friend’s distress and this potentially massive thing about Mr Wallace? Besides, she didn’t know what Jane’s suggestions were going to be; if Rose went back and calmed her friend down, what was she then to do? She could hardly turn around and head straight back through time with Jane to resolve whatever this dilemma was here in the past, could she?
Morgan would assume things would go back to normal; they’d go to the ball, finish attending the Festival together. Her rental of the holiday apartment only ran until the following Monday morning, after all, and Morgan needed to prepare for her new life in Bath.
Rose bent down and slipped her feet into the shoes, wincing a little. She’d have to bear it – she was unlikely to find a Regency plaster any time soon. She stood up, testing the feel of them, but to her relief, they felt easier, and she picked up the shawl and bonnet leant to her the previous day and opened the door.
