Window on Yesterday

by Joan Hohl

  The idea, which grew into more solid conviction with each successive day, that she would never see Sean again was nearly intolerable. She thought about him constantly, and ached in her heart, mind, and body for him.

  Knowing herself, Alycia feared that she was wasting away for the love she had so recently found. She was not eating well and she was losing weight. She was in the place and era that had enthralled her most in her study of history, yet she found little surcease from grief in her surroundings.

  Seeking diversion from the hopelessness of her position, Alycia had explored the magnificent mansion and the manicured grounds around it. She had taken to stealing out of the great house late at night to bathe in the James River, cleansing her heated body while her tears mingled with the gently flowing water.

  At odd moments of the day and night, Alycia had vivid flashes of memory, smiling sadly with regret at the echo of Karla’s dry, acerbic wit and Andrea’s gentle humor. At other moments, she thought she would go completely crazy at the thought that she might never laugh with her friends again.

  And so, at the end of that first week, she grew nearly giddy with excitement when Caroline suggested that Alycia accompany her on a shopping trip into Williamsburg.

  Alycia bathed in the James with extra care the night before the proposed trip into town and was up before seven the following morning, too eager for the jaunt to sleep any longer. The lengthy routine of dressing and having her hair done abraded Alycia’s nerves, and she became fidgety and irritable, testing the stoic patience of Lettie, who had become almost as dear to her as Karla and Andrea. By the time the three women were settled in the open carriage, Alycia was in a fever of anticipation. The drive into town, which would have taken at most fifteen minutes in Alycia’s car, seemed to take forever in the horse-drawn rig. But finally, after much jolting and bouncing, it was over. They had arrived.

  Williamsburg!

  Adrenaline surged through Alycia’s veins as the driver turned the carriage off Francis Street and onto Duke of Gloucester Street. Her eyes widened with stunned amazement as they approached the Colonial Capitol. Except for a few, and to Alycia’s mind unimportant, differences, the structure looked much the same as the building she had toured with a feeling of near reverence on previous visits ... over two hundred years in the future!

  Speechless, Alycia gaped at the capitol, in which the delegates to the Virginia Convention had unanimously instructed the Virginians at the Continental Congress in Philadelphia not only to support but also to propose independence. One month later, those same delegates had unanimously adopted George Mason’s Declaration of Rights, which included the guarantees of liberty that became a model for the Bill of Rights, and was later referred to as one of the great liberty documents of all time. With a sense of awe, Alycia realized that the first event had taken place on May 15, the second on June 12, 1776, not over two hundred years before, but from her present position, a little over a year ago!

  Overwhelmed by the significance of the scene, trembling with excitement, Alycia twisted around on the seat to gaze intently at the capitol as the carriage made a left turn onto the main, broader section of Duke of Gloucester Street. It was only when her peripheral vision registered the presence of other buildings that she turned around again to gaze down the thoroughfare, which was lined on both sides with inns and shops.

  Alycia glanced swiftly from side to side, attempting to see everything. To her continuing amazement, much of what she observed was uncannily similar to what she had seen on other visits. With silent appreciation, she applauded the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation for its scrupulous attention to detail during the restoration.

  Alycia was jarred out of bemusement by the jolting of the carriage being brought to a halt. Glancing up, she saw that they had stopped in front of the milliner’s shop, a short distance down the street from the famous Raleigh Tavern, which had often housed such men as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson.

  “We are visiting the milliner?” Alycia addressed Caroline, while gazing wide-eyed at the Raleigh.

  “Yes, my dear.” Caroline smiled. “I fear there will be no new fashions,” she sighed. “There have been a few since the war began. But...” Her voice trailed away as she alighted from the carriage.

  Alycia felt torn in two different directions. She wanted to see the inside of the milliner’s shop, but she also itched to explore the town. The town won out.

  “Ah—Aunt Caroline,” Alycia said hesitantly as she carefully stepped onto the boardwalk, which was raised some twelve inches above the street. “Might I not—er— wander about a bit while you do your shopping?”

  Caroline stared at Alycia in astonishment. “Wander about?” she repeated in a shocked tone. “On your own?”

  “No! Of course not!” Alycia exclaimed, thinking swiftly. “I would that Lettie accompany me.” In truth, Alycia had relished the idea of strolling around by herself. But on reflection, she decided that exploring would be even more enjoyable with a friend by her side.

  “I do not think—” Caroline began, gently shaking her head.

  “Oh, please, Aunt Caroline,” Alycia interrupted. “I have been looking forward to seeing the town so very much, and I have not the patience to be confined inside the shops.” Alycia held her breath after finishing the stiltedly worded plea. Her breath eased out on a sigh of relief when Caroline’s expression softened.

  “Very well,” the older woman relented. “You may have one hour.” She turned to Lettie. “We will meet at Mrs. Campbell’s for luncheon.”

  Lettie dipped her regal head. “Yes, mistress.”

  “One hour,” Caroline repeated warningly.

  “Yes, Aunt,” Alycia promised, impulsively embracing the gentle woman. “And thank you.”

  “Go along with you!” Caroline exclaimed, blushing with pleasure. Her face beaming, she entered the milliner’s shop.

  Impatient to be off, Alycia glanced up and down the street. “I don’t suppose we’d have time to see the Governor’s Palace?” She gazed hopefully at her companion.

  Lettie smiled indulgently. “I think we might manage to do so,” she replied “If you will commence?” She inclined her head, indicating Alycia precede her down the boardwalk.

  Alycia stepped out briskly, nodding and smiling pleasantly at the people she passed along the way. Soaking up the sounds and smells, Alycia made comparisons to other visits. She expected differences, and there were some. The most obvious difference was in Duke of Gloucester Street itself. The street was nothing more than a road of hard-packed dirt, and as it hadn’t rained for some time, plumes of dust billowed from every foot, wheel, and hoof that pressed upon it. There was a combination of odors, some pleasant, most unpleasant, as there were many unwashed bodies on the boardwalk and an almost equal number of horses on the road. Alycia smiled secretly, thinking it was a shame she didn’t know the chemical components required for making deodorant; she could corner the market.

  As she approached the intersection, Lettie murmured directions from behind. “Continue right on Botetourt Street.”

  Stepping off the boardwalk, Alycia turned onto an even narrower dirt street and, as there was no walkway, trudged happily through the dirt. It was a short street, approximately the length of half a city block, and as Alycia neared the intersection, Lettie called out directions once more.

  “Proceed left onto Nicholson Street.”

  Frowning, Alycia spun around. “There are fewer people here,” she observed. “Come walk beside me, Lettie.”

  Lettie looked at Alycia as if she’d suddenly sprouted horns. “I cannot walk at your side, mistress!”

  After a week of social restrictions, Alycia was at the outer limits of her patience. Walking to within an inch of the other woman, she muttered, “You drank from my cup!”

  Lettie appeared to grow another inch as she drew herself up and tilted her chin. “ ‘Twas in the privacy of your bedchamber, mistress,” she said in a soft, scolding tone. “We are at present on a public
thoroughfare.”

  Angry, frustrated, Alycia spun on her heel and strode along the street, cursing softly to herself. It wasn’t fair, she thought sadly. It simply wasn’t fair that, in the very town where men had espoused the cause of freedom a woman as fine as Lettie was forced to walk two paces behind her mistress.

  Acceptance of things as they were, and not as she might wish them to be, cooled Alycia’s temper by the time she came in sight of the Governor’s Palace, but the long walk in the hot sun had heated her body. Panting, perspiring, she nevertheless felt a chill tingle down her spine as she stood before the palace gates, staring in mute wonder at the imposing structure.

  Alycia was well acquainted with the layout of the palace, its support buildings, and its extensive gardens. She had followed in the wake of a costumed guide through the rooms open to the public and wandered aimlessly in delighted bemusement in the gardens. She had read of the painstaking care with which the palace had been restored by experts faithfully following the meticulous journals and accounts unearthed by archaeologists in the ruins of the buildings.

  To think that here, before her, stood the original palace in all its elegance, was not only chilling but thrilling as well. And yet, as memory stirred, an even stronger thrill feathered Alycia’s spine with the sudden realization that the firebrand of Virginia, Patrick Henry, was at that very moment governor of the Commonwealth of Virginia and very possibly in residence inside the palace. Alycia might have stood there indefinitely, secretly hoping for a glimpse of the famous orator, had Lettie not reminded her of the time.

  “Mistress Alice, our hour is half gone, and we have a long walk before us to Mrs. Campbell’s.”

  Distracted by her thoughts about famous Virginia buildings, and even more famous Virginia men, Alycia turned reluctantly and strolled beside the palace green, back to Duke of Gloucester Street. As she was passing the silversmith’s shop, the name that had been mentioned twice finally registered on her consciousness.

  Mrs. Campbell’s? Caroline and Lettie couldn’t have possibly been referring to Christiana Campbell’s Tavern? Alycia had enjoyed several delicious meals in a reconstructed tavern of that same name, but... Alycia shivered with excitement, and quickened her strolling step to a near-stride.

  As she traversed the length of the street, Alycia glanced from right to left, smiling at passersby and bidding good day to the people who spoke to her. She noted the variety of shops and taverns, many of which were destined to be restored in the future, but mainly, she inhaled the ambiance of the town into her very bones. Her softened gaze caressed the capitol as she skirted around it, and then she was walking up the broad pathway to Waller Street, across which stood the tavern, looking much the same as it would again in the twentieth century.

  A number of people were walking around and standing in small groups, conversing. As Alycia started to cross the street, Lettie spoke softly from behind her.

  “We are not late, but I notice your lady aunt has arrived.”

  “I cannot see her,” Alycia replied, her glance skimming the female faces.

  “She is standing midway on the entrance stairs” Lettie murmured, “conversing with the tall gentleman on the pathway.”

  Alycia shifted her gaze to the stairs and immediately realized why she hadn’t noticed Caroline. The older woman’s small form was practically concealed by the broad shoulders of the man she was talking to. As Lettie had noted, the gentleman was very tall. As his back was to her, the only impression Alycia had of the man was his height and broad shoulders and long legs, neatly encased in breeches and knee boots.

  As she approached the pathway bordering the road, Alycia heard Caroline mention her name and saw her motion with one tiny, plump hand. The tall man straightened and turned, a polite smile curving his lips. Alycia’s steps faltered as she got a clear took at him. Her eyes grew wide. Her heartbeat went crazy. Her breathing ceased. Her senses exploded.

  Sean!

  Trembling visibly, Alycia stared at him. Unbelievably, against all sense and reason, the man standing on the pathway, beginning to frown at her incredible reaction, was the living image of Sean Halloran! The world began to close in on Alycia. And then, as the man strode to her, she fainted at his feet.

  * * * *

  “My niece suffered a blow to the head when her coach overturned during her journey from Philadelphia.”

  Alycia heard Caroline’s voice, but it sounded watery, without substance. Swirls of darkness separated her from the woman who called herself her aunt. Alycia was struggling to fight her way through the dark swirls and into the light when she stilled at the sound of a man’s voice.

  “When did the accident occur?”

  Though Caroline murmured a reply, Alycia didn’t hear it. Her mind and her senses were centered on the man’s voice. The deep, rich intonation of that voice was exactly the same as that of the man who had whispered words of love to her. Hearing that voice once more, when Alycia had resigned herself to never hearing it again, was at once both wonderful and unbearable.

  The swirling darkness dissipated, leaving behind a residue of depression. As her mind cleared, Alycia faced the probability that, in her longing to see Sean again, she had superimposed his visage onto another man. And that the similarity of voices was merely unfortunate. Preparing to face a politely concerned gentleman, Alycia gathered her strength and opened her eyes. The eyes she found herself gazing into rocked her world off its axis.

  Blue. The familiar blue of a midsummer sky. Laughing blue eyes. Sean’s eyes. And they were staring at her from out of Sean’s handsome face. This time Alycia refused to faint. Breathing deeply, too calmly, she swiftly but minutely studied the man’s strong features. There were differences, but as with the restored buildings, the differences didn’t matter, not to Alycia. It required all the willpower she possessed to refrain from humiliating herself by flinging herself into the man’s arms.

  “How are you feeling?” His quiet tone mirrored the concern evident in his expression and his eyes.

  “I... Rather foolish,” Alycia admitted, lowering her eyes to conceal the hunger blazing from them.

  “There is no need.” His tone softened with gentle chiding.

  Alycia longed for the privacy to weep. “My aunt?” she asked, ignoring the longing, and the tightness in her throat.

  “She has gone to beg burnt feathers or some such from Mrs. Campbell.”

  On hearing the note of dry amusement hidden within his tone, Alycia glanced up at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Do I detect a note of skepticism, sir?” She arched her brows in mocking surprise.

  “A tad, perhaps “ he replied, perfectly straight--faced.

  Alycia was scraping her mind for a response when Caroline came fluttering into what Alycia suddenly noticed was a small private dining room. She was hard put not to laugh aloud at the sight of the long singed feather waving precariously in the woman’s grip.

  “Oh, my dear, you are conscious!” Caroline gasped, frowning as she gazed from Alycia to the feather, then back to Alycia. “How are you feeling, child?”

  “I am fine, Aunt, truly.” Alycia hesitated, then offered a hastily thought up explanation. “I fear I walked too quickly to keep our appointment. It is quite hot and I am very hungry.” A sigh of relief whispered through her lips when it became obvious that Caroline was willing to believe the story without question.

  “How wonderful!” Caroline beamed, then flushed. “I mean, I think it is wonderful that you are hungry.” She glanced at the blue-eyed gentleman. “My niece has been taking very little sustenance since the accident. I have been gravely worried about her.”

  “Then perhaps we had better feed her,” he said. “I would be honored to have two such charming ladies grace my table at luncheon.”

  “We would be delighted to join you,” Caroline accepted immediately.

  While the little exchange was going on, Alycia sat up straight on the hard settee she had been lying on. As she was tugging her clothe
s into a semblance of order, she heard him remind Caroline of her manners.

  “I would that I be presented to the lady before luncheon.”

  Flushing with embarrassment, Caroline became flustered and fluttery, but finally settled down enough to perform the introductions.

  “Alice, may I present Major Patrick Halloran of Williamsburg and the Virginia Rangers “ she said formally. “Major, this is my niece, Mistress Alice Carter, who has come to stay with us from Philadelphia.” She turned to beam at Alycia.

  Even as the name registered and reverberated in Alycia’s head, he was making an elegant bow before her.

  “Your most obedient servant.”

  Alycia came perilously close to fainting again. It was too much. The similarities were too unreal. His name. His face. His eyes. His voice. And now this last, to hear him repeat the exact words Sean had spoken to her, was more than any one person should be forced to endure. Fighting the encroaching darkness, Alycia looked up at him imploringly.

  “You feel ill?” Patrick asked, moving to her side.

  “No.” Alycia shook her head. “Some water... If I might have some water, please.”

  “At once.” Spinning on his booted heel, Patrick strode from the room, bellowing for Mrs. Campbell the instant he crossed the threshold.

  In a display of kindness and concern that brought tears to Alycia’s eyes, Caroline sank to her knees. “What can I do?” she cried, patting Alycia’s hand. “I would that I could ease your pain, my child.”

  Stinging tears of shame rushed to Alycia’s eyes. During the past week, Lettie had told her how lonely Caroline had been since the untimely death of her young daughter to a fever and then, two years later, the loss of her grown son at the Battle of Brooklyn Heights the year before. This gentle woman had suffered the agony of losing two beloved children, Alycia chastised herself. Caroline does not deserve a weepy, demented niece, genuine or otherwise. Get your act and emotions together, Alycia. Reality or nightmare, you’re in it. Make the best of it.