by Gloria Gay
Another maid, a taller, older woman with bad posture, closely set eyes and brown hair tied back into a bun was also in the room. Nellie introduced her as Sharon Mae. Sharon Mae stopped what she was doing long enough to nod at Jane – a nod that was accompanied by a curiosity stare.
She had been placing an armful of thin folded towels on a table and when she finished she helped Nellie set up Jane’s breakfast on a table by the window.
Jane looked around the room while the two maids moved about. Last night she had been unable to focus on anything except her pain. Now she noticed it was a pretty room with its walls hung with what appeared to be pink brocade. A cream tablecloth embroidered with a deeper shade of pink blossoms covered the small round table where Nellie and Sharon Mae were arranging the contents of a large tray with covered dishes.
“Lady Elizabeth sent some clothes for you to wear, miss,” Nellie said while the other maid was pouring a cup of tea for Jane.
“That’s very nice of Lady Elizabeth, Nellie. Whose clothes are they?”
“They be Miss Alice’s clothes, miss, Lady Elizabeth’s sister. Miss Alice died two years ago, in May. She was just turning twenty, too.”
“She died young, Nellie.”
“Yes, miss, of the influenza that raked the area. My brother died the same month. It took fair half of the house servants and I don’t know how many gentry.”
Jane could see that Nellie had lost her apprehension and curiosity around her and was now acting more normal, in contrast to Sharon Mae, who stared at Jane whenever she thought Jane was not looking.
If Nellie was an actress she was an excellent one. A shiver of fear shot through Jane. More and more she was beginning to feel that nothing about her stay in Lord Halensford’s estate was staged. And if it was not staged, what was the alternative? She forced her mind away from it. She would not think it because she might make it so. There had to be an explanation. Yet she could not make herself believe that a tour she had taken with her mother a decade ago now was comprised of chiselers who separated tourists from their money, pretending to live in another age.
“I’m glad you survived, Nellie,” Jane said.
She decided she would try to be as agreeable as possible while she was in this place.
She asked Nellie to bring the clothes over to the bed for her examination.
She looked at the walking gown that Nellie had spread on the bed for her.
“Here is also a cloak, Mum,” Nellie exclaimed. “See how pretty it is, and a pair of boots and stockings and a reticule. She got you a chip bonnet, too. And don’t worry about any illness clinging to these gowns, miss. Miss Alice had such a vast wardrobe she couldn’t hardly had been able to even get to these clothes. They be too advanced for the day, mum, as Lady Elizabeth was fond of traveling to Paris with her sister for their clothes. Lady Elizabeth said they’re in fashion now.”
“I’m glad. Lady Elizabeth is very kind, Nellie. So this small purse – it’s called a reticule?”
“Yes, miss,” said Nellie, exchanging a quick glance with Sharon Mae. Jane realized that she should have known what a reticule was if she was pretending to be from a “traveling acting troupe”.
“Are things being prepared for my departure?” She asked, stirring the conversation away from reticules.
“Oh, yes, miss. You’re to have two outriders to accompany you when you leave,” Nellie added. She and Sharon Mae helped Jane to the table. Then Sharon Mae went back to her dusting of the dresser and mirror while Nellie poured Jane some tea and puttered around her. Both maids were fascinated by their alien guest and were reluctant to leave the room.
“They be saying his lordship ain’t takin’ no chances on you and the Greywick brothers meeting up with another accident, Miss Fielder,” Nellie said.
Even if it was caused by her, thought Jane.
Jane sank her teeth into a buttery hot scone that was the best she had ever tasted and expressed her delight in it. The tea was also superb.
After Jane had her breakfast, Nellie brought her some hot water to wash and she and Sharon Mae helped her to dress, fussing around her all the time. Nellie told her that Sharon Mae was called that because there was another Sharon who had been here before her that did the downstairs rooms.
“We’ve been told to handle you very carefully, Miss Fielder, because of the sprain and the bump on your head and other bruises,” she said when both maids took a long time to get Jane dressed as they did it very slowly.
The move to the Greywick estate convinced Jane that the area was not a staged event and a small voice inside her whispered what she didn’t want to hear, that this was surely the past. No one could have reproduced the cottages they passed where peasants on carts and families in carriages passed her on the road. She glanced at the cottages where men and women went about their business and they certainly did not appear to be at a costume party.
It slowly sank into her that she was in another century and denying it further could only complicate her life. Better to accept it and try to get out of this era than to keep on denying it.
CHAPTER 6
Jane was now in Greywick Hall and happy that Nellie had come with her. Lord Halensford had very graciously allowed Nellie to go with Jane until Jane improved.
Jane was grateful she was allowed to take Nellie with her for she had become fond of the girl during the time she had been at the Halensford estate. Of the staff, Nellie was the only one who gazed at her with warmth and admiration rather than fear and had made her stay at least bearable. But the stress of the day had still fallen heavy on Jane and soon after being installed in a bedroom at the Greywick estate she fell into a deep sleep.
Jane awoke to puttering sounds in her bedroom. Nellie had come in with a tray and after placing it on a table she went to the drapes and pulled the cords, then opened the windows to let in the mid-afternoon light. The twittering of birds drifted in as well as the scents of jasmine, lilac and rose. Jane glanced at orange blossom branches that nodded by one of the long windows. She was glad the farm animals were farther from the house than they had been at Lord Halensford’s house.
She glanced at the clock on the mantle and noticed she had slept away most of the afternoon. The bedroom Jane was in was just as pretty as the one in Lord Halensford’s estate but a lot larger and less frilly feminine. Jane looked around at the walls in rich blue damask and the long windows where cream and blue brocade drapes hung. Rich gold tassels hung from the sides of the elegant drapes. A rich tapestry in muted colors hung on one side wall and the canopied bed on which she lay had delicate lace pulled back with huge cream silk and deep cherry bows. A small sofa in cream, cerise and gold was flanked by two small round tables and a pair of delicate chairs upholstered in cream velvet.
Jane realized that Lord Halensford’s estate was smaller and more rustic compared to the vast Greywick estate, even though Lord Halensford was a member of the aristocracy and the Greywick brothers were not. She remembered her tea at the Greywick estate in that other era that was eons removed from where she was now and that a lady in the tour had insisted she had been short-changed because she had assumed she had paid for a ticket to a lord’s estate.
In the year of 2015 she had left behind, Lord Halensford estate had long ago been covered up with track houses, while the Greywick estate, at least a few acres where the mansion was, still existed.
It was a beautiful room. Jane was both excited and apprehensive that she was now in a bedroom in the Greywick estate – and not even in her own century!
After Jane drank her tea and ate two of the scones, Nellie, who stood by, asked her if she would be able to receive Mr. Greywick.
Jane nodded and Nellie left, coming back shortly in Jestyn’s wake.
When Jestyn entered the room he left the door wide open. Nellie took a stool from the foot of the bed to the hallway and placed it by the door. She sat on it without looking at the occupants of the room and took up the needlework she had brought with her.
It lo
oked like Nellie had been instructed beforehand by Greywick to do this.
It appeared it would not do to have the neighbors engage in gossip that Miss Fielder had received Mr. Greywick alone in her bedroom. Jane was amused that Nellie was to be their chaperone.
Jane turned from Nellie to Greywick with a telling glance and shook her head.
Greywick had followed Jane’s glance. “I assure you, Miss Fielder, Nellie is not within earshot and this must be done for appearances sake. I would not want your reputation compromised while you’re under my roof.”
“Are you comfortable in this room, Miss Fielder?” Greywick asked when Jane said nothing.
“Yes, Mr. Greywick, you’re very kind. I think now we can have our talk.”
“’I’m in no hurry, Miss Fielder. If you are still in pain, it can wait.”
“The pain has eased. I’m even learning to deal with it.”
“Dr. Lenn told me you refused to take any laudanum.”
“Laudanum is derived from opium, Mr. Greywick. I’d much rather not take any drugs. I might become addicted and right now I need to be alert, not in some drug fog.”
“I have seen opium eaters in London, Miss Fielder, but a little laudanum hardly constitutes a vice. I assure you it is a common medical practice to prescribe laudanum for pain.”
Jestyn looked appealing in buff colored breeches and a white shirt. A dark blue vest and matching coat completed an outfit that was similar to the one he wore when he posed for the portrait that Jane had become entranced with and that had started her on this bizarre journey. Jane suppressed a sigh, for Jestyn’s broad shoulders and breathtaking blue-green eyes did something to her each time she was in his presence. And she realized with chagrin that his effect on her increased with each time she saw him.
She should not encourage such thoughts, she told herself. She was in the past but would be out of this time zone very soon. There was no future in such an attraction. She would only be setting herself up for heartbreak if she fell for Jestyn Greywick, a man as substantial as a puff of smoke.
Jestyn, whether he was real or not, was regarding her keenly with his wonderful eyes, and sending delicious shivers throughout Jane’s body, clear down to her toes. Her cheeks felt suddenly very warm.
“I would much rather you addressed me as Jane,” she said, trying to cover her confusion.
“Perhaps when in private, Miss Fielder,” Jestyn said.
“Jane.”
“Jane it is,” he said with a smile, with a glance at Nellie’s back.
“Jestyn, would you please hand me my hand bag?” Jane forced her voice to a businesslike tone, ignoring Greywick’s assurances concerning laudanum. Her objective was to get away from the place as fast as her legs could take her – once her sprained leg was well enough to do so – and she wasn’t going to lie in a semi-drugged laudanum state.
“Hand bag?” Jestyn appeared uncertain as to what Jane meant. Jane then motioned to her large purse, which was on the sofa.
“Oh, yes, that curious satchel,” Jestyn exclaimed as he got up and went and brought the hand bag back to Jane. “It’s very large, Miss Fie – uh, Jane. You carry a lot of things around. It seems almost like a small portmanteau.”
Jane said nothing to this. She had smiled at the “reticule” that came with the clothes she had been lent that had belonged to Alice. Jane was certain nothing bigger than a small comb and a handkerchief could be fitted into the stringed embroidered little bag.
“I could get blue in the face trying to explain to you and you still wouldn’t believe me, Jestyn, so I think it’s better to show you some things. It’ll convince you more than any words of mine. And if the flashlight worked in the transfer, I think the battery of my cell phone will, too. The cell phone part’s as dead as a tomb, of course, because the towers that transmit the signals are in the future, but the battery should still work. It usually lasts a week or so before I have to re-charge.”
Jane took out her cell phone, turned it on and the small screen lit up. She touched a few keys and turned on a music video she had downloaded and handed the slim cell phone to Greywick.
Greywick held the cell phone gingerly in his hand, as he stared at a young woman in skimpy clothes, singing while she held something in her hand and dancers performing around her. He stared at the images and listened to the words and music. He turned to look at Jane, a stunned look in his eyes.
“Jestyn, although I still can’t understand how it happened, I’m now convinced I am in the past with you. So, I will explain why I seem so alien to you.”
Jestyn handed back the cell phone, gingerly, as if it were a live object.
Jane looked into his eyes. “Jestyn, I talk strangely, act strangely and dress strangely because I do not belong to your time!
“I belong to a time far into the future, to the 21st Century. I was in the year 2015 when I was transported to your time. As I told you before, I was drawn to your portrait ten years ago – I mean ten years back from the year 2015, when I had visited England with my mother on the year 2005. At that time, at a tour of your estate – this very estate…” Jane said with a sweep of her eyes, “…we were shown the portraits of you and your brother. At that time, at the age of fourteen, I touched the hand on your portrait, a hand that held a pendant with the chain tied around it – your hand. Your hand felt warm and I was astounded. I touched parts of the rest of the portrait and they were cold to the touch.
“Ten years later, in the early spring of 2015, and still intrigued by the portrait, I made the same tour with a friend, a girl from the company I worked for.
“Again your hand on the portrait felt warm to the touch. Except something different happened this time when I touched the portrait. I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve come to the conclusion that I was too young to meet with you in the past then, when I was only fourteen. Ten years later I was old enough to meet you. That’s the only reason I can think of that I was blasted to your time the second time and not the first time I touched your hand.
“Jestyn, the moment I touched your hand the second time, I went spinning in space through some intense light until I thought I was going to die. I blacked out and then I came back to consciousness on a dirt road where I flagged down your carriage and almost got killed in the process!”
When Jestyn said nothing, but only stared quietly at her, Jane went on.
“I work as a reporter, with CBS, Jestyn. I’m a journalist.
“I had just transferred to London, to my new job as a foreign correspondent and had a three-week vacation before I was to start my work. My boss suggested I look in on as many sites as possible before I started work. So my friend Cybil and I booked the tour of your estate.
“That’s so amazing, Jane.” Jestyn shook his head.
“You believe me, Jestyn?”
“I’d be hesitant, if I hadn’t seen what you call your flashlight and that object you just now showed me, but now I do believe you, Jane, completely. Tell me more about the tour. Maybe something in that tour can give as a clue as to why that happened to you, Jane.”
“Well, the tour was comprised of a visit to Greywick Hall—this Greywick Hall—but the way it is in the year 2015, and no longer belonging to your family but being managed as a tourist attraction by England’s National Trust. It was there that I saw your portraits, yours and your brother’s.
***
As Jane went on explaining, Jestyn listened in rapt attention, never once interrupting. He also realized how very pretty Miss Fielder was and what strange unfamiliar sensations went through his body as he listened to her strange talk.
“Anyhow, I had planned to go to Lydford the following day,” she was saying. “I intended to visit Lydford Castle which I had not been able to see when I visited with my mother all those years ago because it was closed on the day we went.
“I intended also to look at your portrait again because I wanted to make sure I had really seen the pendant in your hand and your hand had been warm to my to
uch. My mother had said there was no pendant in your hand when we had seen the portrait together. However, she did not press the point because she and I knew that I sometimes saw things other people didn’t. She had told me on a few occasions that I had deeper vision than most people, but that I should keep it a secret.
I had transferred to England to distract me from the tragedy of my parents’ death and the visit to view your portrait was a sentimental journey for me.”
“It seems strange that you would embark on such a journey, merely because my hand on the portrait had seemed warm to you so many years ago.”
“As I said before, I’m a journalist, Jestyn, and used to following strange leads. This area is considered magical in my time. People trek here from all parts of England and the world. Many people have talked of having experiences where they have momentarily gone into another time zone for a second or so.”
“Our area is spiritual in my time too, Jane. But people know better than to insist they have gone back or forward in time. To speak of magic and sorcery gets you in trouble very fast around here. Even though the last witches that were burned in England were burned in this area about a hundred years ago, superstition is still very much a part of people’s lives.”
Justin realized at that moment that his attraction to Jane grew by the minute and he would be very sorry to see her leave—very sorry. Her full lips, incredibly beautiful eyes and luscious hair did something to his mind and her feisty nature filled him with a need to be in her company.
