Were it not for the sudden whinny of a horse waylaying my current preoccupation to the front of the Station instead, I would have hurried away in the opposite direction. With his forearms resting along the edge of the window frame, Archer is talking to the occupant or occupants of the Carrs’ carriage—only the back of Edwina’s chignoned head is visible in the rear window.
“Reid.” He casts a glance around, obviously looking for Vale. “Hm. Well, Owen and Edwina dropped by to see if we might do lunch. I can’t, but nothing is stopping you, I suppose,” he says, though his brows descend, and his mouth tightens.
I clear my throat and step forward, tapping the brim of my bowler at Bailey. Sidling up next to my brother, I greet Owen and Eddy with a smile I do not feel. “Hello!”
“How do, Sinclair?”
“Hello, my dear. I must say, I much prefer you as yourself. Wouldn’t you agree, Owen?”
“Quite,” he says with a smile and in a way that seems to express an entire meaningful sentence. Indeed, this “quite” is less bland than its twin siblings I met before the dinner party.
“Ah, well, you know … needs must. But this is uncanny. I was just making my way over to Lenny’s in hopes we’d run into each other thereabouts. Really, Eddy, where are you hiding your crystal ball?
“What’s that?” she asks, tilting her head.
“How is it that though we never talk specifics about where and when to meet, you seem always to know I’m coming to look for you?”
“Oh! I do, don’t I?” She laughs, her birdlike hands curled in her lap. “Indeed, I know not how. But come, let us venture a different way today.” Without further preamble, Archer goes back inside, and Eddy signals to her nephew, who moves to the seat beside her. I then board the conveyance, taking Owen’s proffered hand without thinking and then shaking it to cover up our faux pas.
A gentle tap on the roof of the carriage with the ivory ball handle of Eddy’s bat-like umbrella sets us on our way. “Owen has discovered the perfect place for our luncheon; it is a tad south of the here, a German restaurant on Adams and State.”
“Berghoff’s,” I guess.
“You’ve been?”
“Mm. It’s a favorite of ours. What did you think of Selene? She was the only one neither of you had met before, I think.”
Edwina’s eyes twinkle, and she arches a brow. When her lips pucker into a restrained smile and her gaze drifts to my hand—still in her nephew’s—I quickly withdraw it. He winks at me, and I realize he’d been aware of the prolonged intimacy of the gesture all this while.
“And Vale Hennessy, Sinclair,” he says.
There’s also a new shared look in the aunt’s and nephew’s eyes as if they know something I don’t and at the same time are hoping I’ll reveal an answer to a mystery. I settle back on the supple black leather squabs opposite my many-times-over great cousins or great aunt and uncle by association, feeling slightly unsettled all of a sudden and that feeling having nothing to do with my conversation with Vale minutes ago.
“Yes,” I reply with a thin smile. I hadn’t forgotten Vale. I just didn’t want to bring him up. “Isn’t she gorgeous? And she’s engaging and intelligent too—not even slightly twit-ish.” Too bad she’s already in love with my brother. But if anyone can dissuade her from her path to heartbreak-ville, it could very well be this man.
“She is lovely, indeed.” He dips his chin in deference. “I thank you for the introduction. Miss Bryce and I are going for a drive tomorrow morning.”
“Good.”
“Mayhap we—”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s fine. Do go on.”
“If you’re sure?”
“My query is unimportant.”
“Thank you. So, one thing still puzzles me, Eddy. You said you saw only me, my brother Reid, and Marlowe that night and did not recognize any of us, how was it then that you gleaned a connection with the St. Clairs?”
She smiles, wanly. “I glimpsed Royce, you called him? And your brother’s wife—Kinnari, I believe—as well. I saw what you saw that night, River dear. My perspective was thus limited, and it took almost a year to put together enough of the pieces to make sense of it. You are correct, however. I did not know who you were until very recently. In fact, it was only after arriving that we learned of your other brothers and our familial bond.”
“But then—”
“The house, Sinclair.”
“Ah. Wait, you said—” This time my train of thought is interrupted when the carriage rattles over a series of ruts that make my teeth chatter together painfully.
Edwina pounds the roof of the box with her umbrella and the vehicle turns down another road. Once on smoother ground, Owen resumes what he was saying. “You will grant the house is of an unusual style. While my aunt thought it looked vaguely familiar, she was not certain it was the same residence Francis St. Clair had built. The northern half of it was nearly destroyed by the fire, and the south side was all but covered in soot. However, a later vision confirmed her suspicions. And others highlighted peculiarities nonexistent in our time. The butler and your brother’s wife were not entirely human, for instance. They were some form of automaton from what we’ve gathered.”
“Well, damn,” I murmur under my breath. After a quiet moment, I say to Eddy, “That can’t have been pleasant.”
“No, it was not. And yet, how much worse for you, my dear,” she says gently, reaching over to pat my forearm. “I also saw the name plaque, ‘St. Clair House,’ which is what finally led us back to Chicago.”
Directing my question at Owen, I ask, “Has it been you following me these past few weeks? I thought maybe … never mind.”
“I do apologize for causing you any stress, Sinclair, and perhaps undue harm. I was not fully aware of your circumstances at the time. Nor was I sympathetic to your cause. I cannot, in truth, admit to being entirely convinced of the need for the ruse now. I will, however, own that my stance initially was an arrogant one. You seemed to me at first awkward and headstrong if not offensive to my sensibilities. But that is no excuse. In hindsight, I still should have handled myself better than I did.”
“You’re forgiven as I’m now enlightened to the ways of today’s men. But I don’t wholly understand. Harm?”
“Mr. Harris assaulted you after we met him,” he supplies with a sharp edge to his tone.
Sensing the answer would come from her, I turn my attention to Edwina. “How …” I start but let the question trail off.
“I wish I’d seen it sooner; my sight has been strange of late. I see very little of the future, the recent future I should say, and much more of the past leading up to it.” As if she’s said more than she intended, she clamps her lips together and casts a glance out of the window.
I open my mouth to ask about it, this future, but Owen says, “Harris will not try it again. I promise you.” I stare at him for a good fifteen seconds until his dark demeanor softens. This is interesting. It appears I’ve acquired my own band of bodyguards.
“Owen, Bert Harris’s actions are in no way your fault. He leads a depraved life, and apparently, my diagnosis didn’t sit well with him. But I’ll gladly take you up on your offer to watch my back. My brothers will be happy to hear it. Hell, I’m happy to hear it,” I say with a sheepish grin. “A man like me can never be too careful.”
For all the inanities of the period and unfairness of the system, which will forever drive me crazy, I see now that it’s not as simple a divide between males and females as one might think. Sure there are a pretty good number of men who take their rights for granted, but there are more who give of themselves, their protection, their kindness, their generosity, their friendship.
I’m reminded of Willow and Marlowe. How did they know that the past held values we slowly let slip away over the centuries? When did it happen—I wonder—when did we become inhuman?
You’ve reached the end of No Time Like the Present, but there’s more from Ellison Blackburn …
Start reading Flash Back, the first book in the speculative-fiction Fountain trilogy now. ➣
Thank you for choosing to read No Time Like the Present.
I hope you enjoyed it. Now, I humbly ask you to leave a review. Even if it is just a sentence or two, your feedback helps this story stand out in a sea of others.
Again, thank you. With your support I can reach new readers and keep telling stories.
･ ･ ･
Join Ellison’s mailing list for more than the latest happenings. It’s about time.
Subscribe now to claim your welcome gift: the extended preview of Flash Back, book one of the speculative-fiction Fountain trilogy.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ellison Blackburn is the author of numerous fictional works of the speculative, science-fantastic, mysterious, and historical variety. Before becoming a storyteller, however, once upon a time, she earned degrees in Biology and English and then proceeded to work twenty years in web design and development fields.
It was not until she had penned her first novel that her passions, education, and work history mingled sensibly. Learn more at EllisonBlackburn.com, and follow her on Amazon, BookBub, and Facebook.
･ ･ ･
Titles by Ellison Blackburn
The Windy City Files
An Untimely End
No Time Like the Present
The Future of Love
Virtue Us
The Fountain
Flash Back
Second Nature
Being Human
The Watchers
If There Be Giants
Second Son
No Time Like the Present Page 28
