Timeless (A Time Travel Romance)

by Jasmine Cresswell

  “Would you like to return to the drawing room? Please forgive me for bringing you upstairs to the nursery. It’s just that you seem to enjoy the children’s company so much that I forgot how improper it is to inflict one’s children on one’s visitors.”

  “On the contrary, my lady, I beg that you will not apologize. I cannot remember a visit to Starke when I have enjoyed myself so much. It is a great pleasure for me to spend time with your children, and it’s wonderful to see them all looking so happy.”

  Robyn gave her a shrewd glance. “I think, perhaps, that in the past you have provided the children with far more affection than their natural mother.”

  Hannah Wilkes’s cheeks darkened with an embarrassed blush, but she skillfully evaded a direct answer. “I have always enjoyed playing with your children, Lady Arabella. The fact that I am childless is a source of great regret to me.”

  “You would make a wonderful mother,” Robyn said. “Fortunately, there is still time for you to marry again and make some lucky man happy.”

  Mrs. Wilkes smiled wryly. “You are more sanguine than I, my lady. Certainly, I cannot imagine why the suitors are not already lined up three deep at my door. A plump, plain widow of four-and-thirty, without a drop of aristocratic blood in her veins—surely that is just what most men are looking for.”

  “If they are men of sense, who want to be comfortable in their marriage, then most certainly they should be looking for you,” Robyn said.

  Mrs. Wilkes gave another wry smile. “Alas, I must inform you, Lady Arabella, that I can only conclude the world is sadly lacking in men of sense.”

  Robyn laughed. Zach looked up at the sound of her voice, and his mouth curved into a smile that set his entire body wiggling. But Clemmie, bored with listening to the grownups talk, decided to change the subject. “Mamma, is we coming to Bristol wiv you and Papa?” she asked.

  “Your papa and I are not going to Bristol,” Robyn started to explain. “Only Mrs. Wilkes is making the jour...”

  Her voice died away, and she felt her stomach knot tight with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. Good grief, how had she nearly missed the wonderful opportunity presented by Hannah Wilkes’s trip? She had tried to persuade William that Bristol offered Zachary his best chance of escape, and now Hannah Wilkes was unknowingly offering them the perfect cover for his flight.

  Robyn looked across the tea tray at Hannah Wilkes and knew that she had no right to involve such a good, kind woman in Zachary’s escape. On the other hand, she consoled herself, if she acted her part properly, there would be no need to tell the widow anything about their secret mission. Heart beating fast, she tried to convey the impression of an overindulged woman who has suddenly thought of an interesting way to alleviate the boredom of a too long winter.

  “My dear Mrs. Wilkes, I have just had the most delightful notion,” she said. “We are in desperate need of new silk to cover the drawing-room walls. William has been talking about making a special trip to London, but perhaps we could come with you to Bristol and visit the warehouses there instead. That way I wouldn’t have to be away from the children for so long and you could avoid the discomforts of a solitary winter journey. Isn’t that a splendid idea?”

  “It would certainly be a pleasure to lighten the tedium of travel with your company,” Mrs. Wilkes said, looking genuinely pleased. She shot Robyn a puzzled, sideways glance. “Are you quite sure, however, that you wish to give up the prospect of a trip to London in exchange for a week in Bristol?”

  Robyn realized that Arabella would never even have contemplated a visit to a provincial town in preference to a stay in London, the largest and most entertaining city in Europe. She invented the best excuse she could on the spur of the moment.

  “I haven’t left Starke in two months except to go to church,” she said. “I am going to tell William that he must take me to Bristol and London or I shall rot away like a frozen turnip root.”

  It seemed that she had hit the right note. “Then I am entirely delighted to have the honor of your company,” Mrs. Wilkes said. She cleared her throat. “And Lord Bowleigh’s, too, if he can spare the time to escort us.”

  Poor Hannah, Robyn thought with a flash of unexpected sympathy, she struggles so valiantly to disguise the fact that she’s in love with William.

  She rose to her feet, pretending not to have noticed the catch in Hannah’s voice when she spoke William’s name. “My husband should be back from his appointments by now. Shall we go and find him? Perhaps together we can persuade him that he will be a cruel and unreasonable husband if he doesn’t agree to come with us.”

  * * *

  Mary was still combing her hair when William came into her bedroom. The maid bobbed an immediate curtsy and looked up at him. He pointed to the door in silent command and she backed hurriedly from the room.

  At moments like these, Robyn was forced to confront the realization that there was an unbridgeable barrier between her and the rest of the people at Starke, including William. William cared about the well-being of his servants. By the standards of his day, Robyn didn’t doubt that he was the most caring and enlightened of employers. But he was The Master and she doubted if he had ever stopped to question his inalienable right to command. William’s arrogance was not blatant, she decided, chiefly because he had so much power he rarely bothered to display it.

  He crossed over to her dressing table and picked up the hairbrush. “I have much to thank you for, my lady,” he said quietly. “I do believe you may have found the solution to Zachary’s escape that I have sought in vain for five months.”

  She looked at him in the mirror. “You worked out all the details of the plan. I only provided a means of transportation.”

  “That was probably the most valuable contribution.”

  Robyn frowned at her reflection. “I’m uncomfortable with the fact that Mary will have to be drugged in order for the plan to work.”

  He shrugged. “She will come to no lasting harm, and it is better by far for her that she should be a victim rather than a fellow conspirator.”

  “Yes, I know.” Robyn shivered. “We only have three days. Can we make all the necessary preparations in three days?”

  “An hour in the attics and one visit to the Dalrymples should take care of almost everything. Then what happens is in the hands of fate.”

  She turned around on the stool, looking at him with a troubled, searching gaze. “Two nights ago, you suspected me of being a spy for Captain Bretton. Now you’re willing to accept my plan for Zachary’s escape almost in its entirety. How do you know I’m not setting a trap? How can you be sure that the captain won’t be waiting for us at the first crossroads?”

  He smoothed the hair from her forehead and kissed her softly on the top of her head. “My wife, who is a very wise woman, told me that in matters of trust, the heart is a much more reliable guide than reason. And my heart tells me that you can be trusted. Am I wrong?”

  “No, you are not wrong,” she said. “I will never betray you, William.”

  Chapter 20

  Mary doused the candles on the dressing table and touched a spill to the fire so that she could light the lamp that was kept burning all night. Then she crossed her hands neatly in front of her stomach, and gave Robyn a sunny smile. Nowadays, Mary smiled quite often. “There you be, my lady. I can’t hardly imagine as how tomorrow we shall both be sleeping over to Bristol way. Gives me a queer turn just thinking how far we shall be traveling.”

  “Sixty miles,” Robyn said. “That’s a hard day’s travel.”

  “Not so hard since the rain and snow do look likely to hold off. Traveling in mud is what I cannot abide. Well, if your ladyship won’t be needing anything else tonight, I’ll away to mend the rent in your traveling cloak.”

  “First I need you to come into my sitting room, please.” Robyn couldn’t look at her maid as she issued the order. She was sure her guilt would show in her face.

  Mary might smile more these days, but s
he didn’t even consider requesting an explanation for Robyn’s peremptory command. She followed her mistress into the sitting room and waited meekly to receive her orders. The maid’s passive obedience increased Robyn’s guilt a hundredfold, which might have been why she felt a sudden, irrational premonition of disaster. Logically speaking, what could go wrong? How could Mary come to harm, tucked away with warm blankets and plenty of food in the Dalrymples’ attic? But logic didn’t prove comforting, and Robyn felt oppressed by the fear that she would never see Mary again. As they walked into the sitting room, she took hold of the maid’s hand and squeezed it tightly, longing to apologize for what was about to happen, and knowing that she couldn’t say anything, unless she wanted to put all their lives at risk—including Mary’s.

  Mary patted her hand. “My lady, be you feeling quite well?” she asked, her voice genuinely solicitous.

  “Yes... yes, I’m fine.” Robyn saw William come into the room, moving silent and unobserved toward the maid’s back, a tightly woven black linen cloth stretched between his hands.

  Robyn swallowed convulsively, then forced a smile. “I’m feeling very well, thanks to you, Mary. These past few weeks you have worked so hard to make me comfortable and I’m truly grateful.”

  “‘Twere naught but my job, my lady.” Mary shuffled her feet, embarrassed but pleased, and at that moment, William stepped up behind her. He threw the linen cloth over her head with his right hand, and simultaneously clapped his left hand over her mouth to muffle her screaming.

  The poor woman was momentarily paralyzed with fear, then she started to claw at William’s hands, struggling to free herself from the all-enveloping blindfold, moaning behind the gag of his hand. Robyn looked pleadingly at William, begging for permission to explain to Mary what was happening, but he shook his head in a fierce negative. They had already agreed that Mary would be set free the instant they returned from Bristol, by which time Zachary would be safely in France and Robyn could make as many apologies and explanations as she wished. Until Zachary was out of the house, however, it was imperative that Mary should know nothing of their plans.

  “Walk!” he said to the maid, disguising his voice into a hoarse whisper. “Nobody will hurt you. Do you understand what I am saying? You are not going to be harmed in any way.”

  Not surprisingly, Mary’s only answer was a groan of fright. William, less sentimental and a great deal more efficient than Robyn, ignored the groan. He nodded curtly to Robyn, and with great reluctance, she took the strips of linen she had prepared in readiness and used them to tie the blindfold over Mary’s head, anchoring the cloth just above the maid’s elbows and blinding her wrists into a loose handcuff behind her back. As soon as she tied the final knot, William propelled Mary into his bedroom, toward the priest’s hole, which he had left open in readiness.

  The scratching at his bedroom door shocked both Robyn and William into a split second of total stillness. “My lord, ‘tis Jackson, come with the brandy you asked for.”

  Robyn flashed a silent, inquiring glance at William. Surely he hadn’t encouraged disaster by requesting brandy at this crucial point in their plans? He gave a quick shake of the head, which she took to mean that he had made no such order. Mary was squirming and kicking out with her feet, making a real effort to escape now that she had heard Jackson’s voice. Her struggles sounded appallingly loud to Robyn, and when the maid pressed back with her buttocks, she banged the bullet wound in William’s thigh. His face turned sheet-white and he groaned in pain before he clamped his mouth shut, biting off the sound.

  “My lord?” The door handle rattled. “My lord, what is happening? Why is your door locked? Be you well, my lord?”

  At the renewed press of questions from his valet, William gave up on any attempt to secure Mary’s cooperation. Minimizing the noise of her scuffling as best he could, he dragged her to the priest’s hole and shoved her inside. Unfortunately, at Robyn’s insistence, they had elected not to gag her, so he was forced to accompany the maid into the hole in order to keep her silent. A loud scream from her would betray not only her plight, but the existence of the priest’s hole. With a final swift glance in Robyn’s direction, William pulled the lever and the entrance to the priest’s hole whirred shut. Alone in the bedroom, Robyn realized that deflecting Jackson’s justifiable suspicions was now entirely up to her.

  With feverish speed, she closed the curtains around William’s bed, marched to the bedroom door, and flung it open. “What do you want?” she demanded, reflecting ruefully that her role as the imperious Lady Arabella was being used far too often in recent days.

  The valet bowed, tray balanced on one hand. “I understood his lordship required brandy, my lady.”

  “We ordered no brandy,” she said, scowling at him. “Get out! His lordship is sleeping. Do not disturb us again tonight.” She banged the door shut, but not before she had seen the avid curiosity with which Jackson’s gaze flew around the bedroom. The man would cause trouble if he could, Robyn was quite certain. But with nothing to report to his paymaster but vague suspicions, how much damage could he do between now and dawn tomorrow morning?

  More than enough, she thought grimly, pacing the bedroom. Undoubtedly Jackson guessed that Zachary was hidden in the priest’s hole, and that he had evaded Captain Bretton’s pursuit by ducking into the hidden entrance of an ancient tunnel. Would the valet be smart enough to make a connection between Zachary’s need to escape from the priest’s hole and their sudden plans for a trip to Bristol?

  Two hours went by before William rejoined her in the bedroom, and she was still pacing. “Jackson,” he said at once. “Did you manage to get rid of him without arousing his suspicions?”

  “I hope so, William, but I’m worried. Why did he choose tonight of all nights to come up to your bedroom on such an obviously trumped-up excuse?”

  William pushed the hair off his forehead impatiently. “He came because he suspects that Zachary is about to make another dash for freedom. Fortunately for us, he has no way to convert those suspicions into certainties.”

  “What if he tells Captain Bretton that another escape attempt is being planned? Won’t the captain increase his surveillance of Starke?”

  “Yes, he would, but I have kept Jackson under close watch these past few days. He has spoken with none of his messengers, and he himself has not left Starke.”

  “How can we be sure? What about at night, when we’re all asleep? Jackson could easily slip out of the house.”

  “You know that the doors are locked and barred, and the windows, too. Moreover, he would need to evade the other servants, some of whom are late to bed and others early to rise.”

  She shook her head. “William, in a house this size, there will always be one window that nobody has remembered to shutter. Have you forgotten that I myself found an open window the night I ran away? If I managed to find a way out of the house, you can be sure that Jackson could do so with even less difficulty.”

  William frowned, considering the point, then shrugged. “My dear, you are very right to remind me that we mustn’t be overconfident. But even if Jackson has managed to slip out of the house, what can he have said to Captain Bretton? Only that we are going to Bristol in order to buy wall hangings. Captain Bretton is unlikely to authorize the search of our carriages on such a flimsy pretext. After the setbacks he has experienced recently, the captain is wary. He knows my uncle has the ear of King George, and he must fear that I will make a formal protest to His Majesty. A peer of the realm cannot be harassed with impunity, even by the Duke of Cumberland’s most favored minion.”

  She ought to have felt reassured, but the worry still nagged at her. “What about Mary?” she asked, trying to pin down the root cause of her anxiety. “Did everything go as planned?”

  “Precisely as planned,” he said. “The Dalrymples were waiting for us as agreed. Mary has been given milk laced with laudanum and she is sleeping peacefully. Tomorrow, when she wakes, she will be given food, and the suppli
es to make herself a new dress. Other than the fact that she is locked in, I’m sure she will find her situation quite comfortable. The Dalrymples are good, kind people, and since they are now too poor to keep more than two servants, both of whom would die before they betrayed the family’s secrets, Mary will be safely out of harms’ way. You need not worry that your maid will receive harsh treatment at the hands of our neighbors, far from it.”

  Perhaps it was Zachary’s reluctance to dress up as a woman that was bothering her. “What about your brother?” she asked. “Has he shaved really closely? Does he know how to use the face powder I gave him? And will he be ready to leave before daybreak tomorrow?”

  William chuckled. “Ready? My dear, he is in a fair way to grinding a hole in the floor with his pacing, so eager is he to be gone. But enough. We have discussed all this many times before.” He drew her close, linking his arms lightly around her waist. “You are seeing problems where none exist, my love, and that is most unlike you. Are you tired?”

  “A little, I suppose.”

  “Then you should rest. The journey tomorrow will be exhausting in and of itself, quite apart from the nervous tension we will inevitably feel. Come to bed, my love, and I will try to make you forget this sudden attack of nerves.”

  She went with him willingly, eager to lose her growing sense of dread in the sweetness of his lovemaking. He gathered her into his arms, and his passion seemed more eloquent, his tenderness more profound than ever before. When she reached her peak, she felt a moment of pure joy, followed by a sense of loss so sharp that her throat ached with tears.

  For once William didn’t sense her volatile mood. Exhausted by three long nights of secret consultation with Zachary and the Dalrymples, William soon fell asleep. His hair tumbled across the pillow, a blond, thick frame for the strongly etched masculinity of his features. Too strung out to sleep, Robyn ran her hands lightly over his face, needing the physical contact. He smiled at her touch, but continued sleeping. Beneath her fingertips, the contours of his face felt hauntingly familiar, the cheekbones clearly defined, the chin square, the nose straight and narrow-bridged. Seven generations into the future, Zach still carried the unmistakable imprint of his ancestor’s genes.