by Nhys Glover
‘I will not sleep. And neither will you. And one or the other of us will not withstand the temptation. It is too much, Ma Chere, it is too much.’
She sniffed back the tears, and turned away. He was right, of course. While ever he was here, she would do anything to be by his side. And while she was in New Atlantis, and the idea of the necessity of their separation was just that, an idea, she could be strong. Now she could feel her courage giving way. She would soon be begging him to run away with her, to another time, where no one would find them. Damn the Continuum. Damn his work. Damn his honour.
No, he was right. The temptation was too great. He must go, and soon.
‘Go now, Rene. Do not wait for dinner. It will be too torturous. I will give your excuses. Go now, while we both have some strength left.’
The look of devastation that crossed his face was almost her undoing. She leaned up, and kissed him hard. ‘I will tell the stable boy to ready the carriage, and get Jenny to bring down your bags. You have to go now! ‘
She fled the room like the demons of the underworld were after her. Within ten minutes, the bags were being loaded onto the carriage, and Liv was seeing him to the door.
‘I can’t do this,’ he croaked unevenly, as she offered him her hand.
‘You must. We must. Drawing it out only makes it that much worse. I love you more than my life, and I am not as strong as you think me. If you stay, we will do something we will live to regret, I know it. Go, and remember the love we have shared. Let it sustain you, as my love will sustain me.’
How she got the words out from her dry mouth, she didn’t know. But, with one last, long look, Rene strode down the front steps and entered the carriage. She watched him go, praying he would turn and wave, praying he wouldn’t.
In the end he answered her prayer. He didn’t turn back.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
His grief was a vicious thing, tearing at his insides like a ravenous beast. He pushed the coachman to drive too fast for safety, but couldn’t bring himself to care. What difference did it make? He had lost her. He had lost his heart. Going on seemed pointless, worse than pointless – an obscenity.
Somehow, time passed, and the few short miles between Foxmoor Manor and his destination were travelled. He found himself once again in the small village where he had rented the carriage. The coachman was relieved to see the last of him, even after the large tip he gave the man. The breakneck pace they had set must have seemed odd to the point of madness to the man.
Rene took a room for the night, and prepared for the wait. When darkness fell, he would go deep into the woods to his extraction point. Then he would go home. In the morning, they would find him gone, and his few possessions would be confiscated. It would be as if he had never been here at all.
But as the hours passed, and he lay on the uncomfortable bed of his Inn room, other thoughts crossed his mind. He needed completion. If he didn’t have completion, the temptation to return here every time he Jumped would be awful. He must see this to its end. He must see her dead and buried, so he could let go of the hope. It felt cruel and awful, as if he did the deed himself. But it must be done.
He knew the date of her death, and could estimate the date of her funeral. It would be only a few days after the accident on the 28th October. Long enough to get her sisters there, but not long enough that her body began to moulder in the autumn weather. He would set his PA for the exact coordinates of his extraction point, but adjust the time. If he chose the 31st October, in the very early morning, he should be close.
The decision made, he felt as if his heart was a lead weight in his chest. Darkness couldn’t fall soon enough. Get it over with. Finish it so he could move on. He laughed at the absurdity of such an idea. Move on? As if he would ever move on. At best he would feel a sense of relief. Before the enormity of what he had lost truly hit home.
He must be back in New Atlantis by the time the shock wave hit. He needed Jane, if he was to withstand its onslaught. Once the wave subsided, he would pick up the pieces and go on. His Oath demanded it of him.
31 October 1810, Ripley, Yorkshire, ENGLAND
The shift from darkness to early morning light was by no means the most dramatic he had experienced. But Jumping sidewards like this was not encouraged, and so he had never done it before. Jumps usually came and went from Start Point, along one Time-Space Continuum. A side step would have to be reported, the extraction point and times added to the complex data that kept the timelines from crossing.
Someone could not Jump to a point within ten minutes of another Jump, or within the same specified spacial field. It was the reason they had lost so many Jumpers in the early days. A rescue mission couldn’t arrive in the area any sooner than ten minutes after the initial Jump. By that time, the Jumper would have left the area, and they would have to try to track them down, hopefully before the incident that had taken them off grid occurred.
So his sidestep could get messy, if others Jumped to this time and place. But as the chances of that happening were small, it was worth the risk. Regency England was not a Retrieval Point, and the few Researchers who came here would be focused on the cities of the time, not this little backwater.
He walked out onto the dirt road as the sun peeked over the moor top. It was colder than when he had left. The beginning of July to the end of October was a serious change of season. He was pleased he remembered his coat, although it was more suitable for summer than winter.
The man at the stable looked at him oddly when he strode in asking for a mount. He imagined there had been gossip about his disappearance back in July. His sudden return would have them all talking again. But they could guess what they wanted about where he had gone, in the interim. There guesses would come nowhere near the truth.
He was on the road before the sun had moved more than an inch higher in the sky. He felt strangely elated to be returning to Harrogate again, even if it was for such a terrible purpose. She was dead now. It was too late for last minute goodbyes. It was over. The best year of his nearly eight hundred years of life was over. And it felt as if his heart had died with her. It was now numb in his chest.
This was a familiar feeling. This was how he had felt after the Last Great Plague. Dead inside, even though his body stayed alive. How long had that feeling lasted? Years. Maybe it had never gone. Not until Liv came into his life, and brought him painfully back to life again.
He called at the little Anglican Church in Harrogate, knowing it would be the only choice for her funeral service and burial. All was quiet, and he did a quick tour of the graveyard to make sure the Mulgraves were represented there. He found their sizable plot with a grave newly dug. But, as yet, it was unfilled. So it would be here, and it would be today. He moved back to where he had left his horse.
As he prepared to lead his mount up the street, so that he could return on foot later, unnoticed, he saw the Church door open, and Liv’s sister, Augusta, come out. She was dressed in black, and her face was drawn with grief. She glanced his way. Suddenly her face was transformed.
Augusta was shocked and concerned to see him. As she hurried down the path toward him, he wasn’t sure whether he should jump on his horse and ride away, or whether it was best to face her.
She could simply be concerned to see him there. Portia or her father would have told her of his sudden departure from Foxmoor Manor in July. His sudden reappearance here, on such a solemn occasion, would be jarring for her. Maybe there had been a scandal after his sudden departure. He wouldn’t know the cause of her concern unless he asked her.
He decided to see it through. Maybe talking to her grieving sister would help him with closure. He could at least find out when the funeral was timed to take place.
‘What are you doing here?’ Augusta hissed, as she reached him. Before he could frame a reply, she continued. ‘Where have you left Livy?’
‘Liv? I… left her in July…’
‘Don’t be obtuse. Where is she? You were supposed to have
been gone from the district by now. If anyone should see you… everything will be undone.’
‘Undone? What undone?’
‘Why the hoax, of course. It was your idea after all.’
‘Hoax?’
‘Have you been drinking? Where have you left Liv? She is well hidden, is she not?’
‘Augusta,’ he demanded angrily, too confused to make sense of her prattle. ‘What are you talking about? This is Liv’s funeral, is it not? That is her grave awaiting her in the yard?’
‘Yes, yes of course it is. But you know as well as I do that she is not in the coffin, and will not be going into the ground any time soon, I hope.’
‘Not in the coffin? Where is she then?’ he grabbed her arms, and shook her. His heart was pounding so hard he could barely draw breath. He didn’t know what was going on here, but Liv wasn’t in her coffin. Why not?
‘You tell me. You took her away straight after we staged the accident. We carried her home. You helped us carry her home! And then Freddie administered the potion that made her appear dead. Just like Juliet, you said. He signed her death certificate, even though it went against his conscience. But you were right, Father would never have allowed you two to marry, and he would have spent a fortune trying to track you down and bring her back. It was better that he, Aunt Millicent and the other girls, except Portia of course, thought her dead. But you know all this. Have you hit your head and lost your memory?’
‘No. No. I am just a little lost. So Liv is supposed to be with me. She ran away with me… And who are you burying today?’
‘No one. A box filled with bags of sawdust. It took a great deal of skulduggery to pull it off, and Portia’s curate had to be involved. He was the hardest to convince. But when Portia threatened to break off the engagement, he agreed. He is a stuffy old sort, but he loves her dearly.’
‘Not dead?’ he asked one more time, just to clarify it in his mind.
‘Not dead. We staged the accident. You and she went out. Then you returned with blood all over you. We took the carriage out to fetch her poor, broken body. It was surprising her horse sustained no injuries, wasn’t it?’ The sarcasm in her tone made it clear that no injury could have been possible.
‘We did not let anyone look at her, except while the drug had her deathlike. After that, it was just a matter of Portia and I preparing the body. Our Aunt was upset to be left out, but she is a terrible gossip, and would not have been able to keep the secret. It is a closed casket because of her horrific injuries.
‘Why am I telling you all this? You know it all. You were the one to send for Freddie and I. You were the one to explain the plan. Now you are acting as if every detail is unknown to you? What is going on, Rene?’ Augusta’s voice had stayed low during her whole explanation, but now it rose louder with agitation.
‘I am sorry, Augusta. Livy is safe. I just wanted to check that everything was going as planned, that is all. Now I know, I will go back to her, and we will leave immediately. Thank you!’
Never had he been more grateful to anyone in his life. His heart, which had been numb only minutes ago, was now pulsing with life again. Liv was alive! Somehow they had pulled off a complex hoax, with the help of her two sisters, and Liv had been able to go home with him.
As he mounted his horse, and rode back the way he had come, his eyes were blurred with tears. Never in his wildest dreams would he have come up with this scheme. And yet, somehow through the ambiguities of time travel, he had provided himself with the answer. He had saved her, after all.
He returned his horse, set the PA for ten minutes later than he had left the extraction point last, and returned to the night of 1 July 1810. As he stepped through the Portal, his heart felt so light he felt he might fly.
2 July 1810, Harrogate Yorkshire ENGLAND
Liv had cried herself to sleep, and when Jenny came to wake her in the morning her eyes were so puffed that they were almost glued together. It took soaking a flannel in the cold water, and lying with it over her eyes for an hour, for them to lose some of their redness and swelling. By then, Portia had been in to see what was wrong, and had looked doubtful when Liv claimed a headache.
But, dutiful sister that she was, she left Liv alone, and sent for a breakfast tray so she could eat at her leisure. Liv had no stomach for food, but she moved the smoked herring around on the plate so it looked as if she had made an effort. Then she had returned to bed, wanting to remain there for ever.
Grief was a strange thing, she observed almost distantly. It could be so immediate that you felt you would die from it at any moment. Then it could recede like the tide, leaving you numb and stricken for a time, until the next wave of agony hit, and you thought you would die from it again. Each wave was no less intense than the one that went before it. She wondered how long it would be before the numbness would win out over the suffering.
It was midmorning when she heard voices outside her bedroom door. She felt no desire to find out what was going on. Nothing mattered to her. But then she heard her sister say, ‘Father, she will want to know. If she is asleep, I will not disturb her.’
There were more whispers, and then the door squeaked open, and Portia tiptoed over to the bed. In a stage whisper she said, ‘He is back.’
Instantly, Liv opened her eyes, and sat up in bed. ‘What did you say?’
‘Oh, I did not wake you. Good. I said he is back. Our impolite guest of yesterday has returned. He is asking to see you.’
‘Rene is here?’ she demanded urgently, hardly believing her own ears. It had to be a dream. She had fallen asleep after her sleep-deprived night, and now she was dreaming. Any moment, the dream would take on some outlandish character, and she would know it was not real.
‘Yes. Downstairs. He is insistent, and Father is extremely annoyed. He nearly did not let him in. Considers him an “uncouth young savage”, to quote him exactly.’
She was off the bed before her sister had finished speaking. ‘Help me, help me.’
Portia smiled brightly, and came to her assistance. After a little over ten minutes, she was fully dressed, her hair tied neatly, if not intricately back, and her face was as good as it was going to get after her crying jag.
Liv almost flew out the door and down the stairs to the morning room.
As she opened the door, she was prepared for disappointment. He wouldn’t come back. It would only make it all the worse when he left again. Surely he hadn’t thought better of it, and was going to ask her to run away to another time with him? If he did, she would be sorely pressed not to agree. Another night like she had spent would surely kill her.
He turned from the open window, and smiled at her. It was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. All the sadness was gone from it, and he was as light as she remembered him being at their very first meeting. What had happened to make him so happy?
Portia followed her into the room, grimacing as she apologied. ‘With our Aunt away, Father insisted I be here. If not, he said he would be forced to chaperone. And he is much too busy for this young man’s nonsense.’
Liv barely heard her. She walked slowly toward her husband, each step feeling as long as those through the Portal. At last she was beside him, and he was staring down at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He looked like a child, bubbling with excitement.
‘You were not supposed to come back,’ she whispered, still not sure he was real.
‘I know. But things have changed. It seems I solved our dilemma. We can be together.’ He reached out, and gently stroked the side of her face. Acutely aware of Portia’s presence, she tried not to weaken too much at his touch.
‘We cannot change destiny,’ she said, carefully phrasing herself so that Portia wouldn’t gain too much insight into what she was witnessing.
‘Destiny has already changed. Or, let us say, it was always destined for us to be together. We just didn’t know it.’
‘You have been home?’
‘No. But somewhere
else where I spoke to a reliable authority who explained to me how we can make this work. Your father will not approve of us. I was assured of that when I arrived. So we will, with the help of your dear sister here.’ He indicated Portia with a graceful sweep of his hand. ‘Her betrothed, and Augusta and her husband, fabricate a death so that we can run away to the New World together.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Portia, from the other side of the room. ‘Are you mad? My sister barely knows you. Why would she run away with you in such a fashion?’
But Liv wasn’t listening to her sister’s indignant retort. She was already in his arms, standing on tiptoe so that she could kiss his beloved mouth. He didn’t deny her, and as Portia exclaimed at the intimacy of the kiss, they held each other as if they would never let go.
‘In October?’ she asked, once they were able to draw apart. Then she stood in his arms, her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat time with her own.
‘Yes. Until then I will stay, if I can give your father cause to allow it. Then we will go.’
‘Liv, for heaven’s sake. You cannot be considering this. He is an impulsive youth!’
‘Just as you are?’ Liv turned to focus on her sister. For once, she felt like the young one, and Portia was behaving like the mother. She could just imagine how this might seem to her baby sister. A strange young man with a mysterious past comes to their house to read a journal. After half a day, and a cursory look at the journal, he goes to his bedroom where Liv is searching. For ten minutes they are alone together, and then, when next Portia sees her, she is different, changed in some inexplicable way. A visit to the library to see the young man results in his expulsion, and Liv’s utter despair. Now he turns up out of the blue again with wild plans to stage her death so they can run away together. Liv would be incensed by such carry on, if she were Portia.
Gently, she broke from her husband’s arms, and went to Portia’s side. She reached out and stroked her cheek, meeting the grey eyes that were filled with so much confused rage.
