"I have not heard of it if he is," Dorothea Thorley replied, delighted to have known something that her formidable friend did not.
"Then perhaps it is better I did not send a chaperone along with the children," Lady Marcella decided out loud. "They will feel freer to get to know one another in a more informal setting. Oh, I do hope Honoria will not do anything unseemly to put this worthy gentleman off," she fretted.
"Do not distress yourself about Honoria, my dear," her husband said. "She is just a bit high-spirited. Most gentlemen find that charming in a young girl."
Lady Marcella looked once again in the direction that the riders had gone, but the shaggy little Welsh ponies were long out of sight. She frowned.
"Why, I vow I can actually feel Mama worrying that she has let us go without a proper chaperone," Miss Olympia Bowen said as they trotted along.
Her siblings laughed, and then her brother Anscom said, "I believe I should censure you for such an unfilial thought, my dear sister."
"You're no parson yet, Anny," Olympia replied tartly.
"And I should not be at all had not George been so discourteous as to be born before me," Anscom Bowen replied mischievously.
"Do not blame me," George Bowen replied. "Have you any idea at all the difficulties involved in being the heir? I should just as soon study for nice quiet Holy Orders, Anny, as be responsible for Bowenbrooke House in London, and Bowenwood Manor in Worcestershire, and of course, first and foremost, by appointment to His Majesty, Bowen's Best, the Tea of Royalty."
The riders laughed again, and then Miss Honoria Bowen said, "And do not forget, Georgie, that Mama is counting upon you to marry some wickedly rich and fecund young heiress."
"Rich and fecund heiresses are usually horse-faced. I must have a pretty wife, or none at all," he told them. "It's only fair."
"I am quite insulted, George," their cousin Miss Katherine Williams said. "I am most wickedly rich, although I do not know if I am fecund, but I am certainly not horse-faced."
"Then marry me, Kitty, and put an end to all our troubles. Mama will be looking for a husband for you as soon as she has settled Honoria, I warn you!"
"Dear George!" Kitty reached out and patted his hand with hers. "You deserve a girl who loves you unabashedly, and I deserve a man whom I can love forevermore. Neither of us is that person for the other, and well you know it."
"You are a most unrepentant romantic, dear Kitty," Olympia told her.
"Do you not love Sir Halsey then, cousin?" Kitty probed.
The Honorable Miss Olympia Bowen blushed to the roots of her short chestnut-brown hair, but said boldly, "I most certainly do love Halsey! He is the best of men!"
"Then will you not allow me the same good fortune as you yourself have found?" her cousin asked.
"Love! Love! Love! Is that all you silly creatures are going to talk about?" demanded Lieutenant Darius Bowen, of His Majesty's Bengal Lancers. "This castle we're off to see was, I am told, in a most perfectly and naturally fortified setting. It was, so legend says, never successfully captured in a war."
"Then why is it deserted, little brother?" George Bowen asked.
"I've absolutely no idea," Darius answered with a shrug. "The family probably gained properties in the lowlands, and decided to come down off their mountain in a safe century. Why on earth live in such an out-of-the-way place if you didn't have to, I say!"
"Mr. Tretower, the original owner of the wells, says that the castle once belonged to a family of sorcerer princes," Honoria told them. Honoria, like her father, and youngest brother, was a blond with huge, ingenuous blue eyes. Her hair, as her elder sister and cousin's, was cut fashionably close to her head, a la Grecque. Her tiny ringlets were most appealing. She was petite in a family of tall women, which was considered most odd.
"Mr. Tretower says," Honoria continued, "that his great-grammy was always talking about the sorcerer prince, and his beautiful wife, and some terrible tragedy that separated them."
"The usual Welsh fairy tale," Olympia said dryly.
Ignoring her, Honoria continued, "Mr. Tretower's great-grammy used to cry whenever she told him the story. She said she could just feel the sadness in the very stones of the ruins. Isn't that just simply wonderful!" At seventeen, Honoria was wildly romantic.
"Mr. Tretower," Olympia said, "has a Celtic flair for the dramatic. I expect he tells that Banbury tale to every gullible young girl who comes to the spa. Then he rents her one of his ponies to go off trekking for a day. A most profitable business, I think."
"It is not a Banbury tale!" Honoria said indignantly. "You believe me, Kitty, don't you?"
Katherine Williams did not hear her cousin, however. She was far too busy struggling with the strong sense of familiarity sweeping over her. I know where I'm going, she thought. I know precisely where I am going! Though a slightly startling revelation, it was not a particularly frightening one, for she had had such feelings of déjà vu before.
"Kitty!" Honoria's voice pushed insistently into her thoughts.
"What? Yes, Honoria, what is it?"
"Mr. Tretower did not tell me a Banbury tale just to rent us all ponies, did he? His story about the prince and his wife are true. I am certain it is!"
"Of course it is!" Kitty assured her, and then wondered why she had said the words with such conviction.
The ponies trotted across an ancient stone bridge spanning a rocky little river below, and Kitty felt her excitement mounting as they began their climb up. The narrow tract of a worn stone path that nature had definitely not fashioned was covered with lichens.
"Why, bless me! This seems to be a road of sorts," Olympia said, surprised.
"See!" Honoria crowed, kicking her pony's fat sides to hurry him forward that she might be first to the top.
The others followed her up the increasingly steep path that twisted and wound until finally, rounding a bend, they came upon what appeared to be the remains of some long-ago habitation in a clearing. The black stones soared in some places, lay tumbled in a forlorn heap in others. In some ways it almost seemed a part of the mountain itself.
"Mr. Tretower's great-grammy was right!" said Honoria, laughing, and she leapt from her mount.
Her siblings followed and began to walk about, chattering with surprise. But Kitty was strangely silent and thoughtful. There was sadness here, even as Mr. Tretower's great-grandmother had predicted, Kitty thought, but there was happiness too. Great happiness, and so much more!
"Oh! Oh!" Honoria said almost worshipfully. "Is the view not simply divine? Why, the castle seems to have been built on the spine of the mountain itself. You can see into two valleys from here."
"I am not certain your Mr. Tretower has not misled you after all, Honoria," Olympia said tartly. "There is no castle here, nor was there ever one here. It is simply the ways in which the stone formations are set here on the mountain that give the impression of a former dwelling."
"You are quite mistaken, Olympia," Kitty said quietly in an odd, little voice, and they all turned to look at her. She walked slowly about, to the astonishment of her cousins, as if she were looking for something specific, and then her green eyes lit up. "Rock formations do not create stairs, Olympia. Look here!"
Amazed, they watched as Kitty walked regally up a moss-covered, lichen-encrusted stone staircase.
"By Jove!" George exclaimed. "Kitty is quite correct. It is certainly a staircase."
"Oh, very well," Olympia admitted, and then she shivered. "It is a staircase, George, and Honoria is correct too. It is a castle, but I am catching a chill. Now that we have all agreed, may we please return to Tretower Wells?"
"We must wait for the others, dear sister," he told her. "Do you not remember that your beloved and two gentlemen of my acquaintance are to join us here?"
Before Olympia might reply, however, the sky above them, with typical British perversity, suddenly darkened. There was an ominous rumble of thunder, and large droplets of rain began to drive down upon them. With a c
ollective shriek the Bowen sisters cast about for some sort of shelter, and were quickly herded by their three brothers into a recess in one of the castle walls. Kitty, though, took shelter in an alcove atop the staircase where she had been standing.
She felt strangely safe and secure. It was as if she actually belonged here. As if she had stood in this very place before. She sighed with a sudden overwhelming sense of happiness, and for a minute everything else about her was gone but for the feeling she felt at this moment in time. Then below her a movement caught her eye at the very point where they had come into the castle clearing. She watched, amusement bubbling up in her, as three fashionably dressed young men, mounted upon quite superb horseflesh, trotted quickly, laughing and whooping, into the clearing. Dismounting, they dashed across the grass seeking their own escape from the very wet storm.
After a few more minutes of rain, which came in thick, silver sheets accompanied by spectacular lightning and noisy thunder, the storm passed over them, moving on into the valley below. The sun burst forth over the mountaintop, gilding the lush, wet summer greenery, touching the stone ruins with a golden light and bringing a new warmth to them. A red kite, catching a whorl in the wind, soared out over the valley to her right.
Below she could hear introductions being made. Honoria was laughing her most flirtatious laugh. It was a sound peculiar to her cousin, that Honoria always seemed to make when she found a gentleman who interested her. Kitty allowed her eyes to stray out over the densely forested valley below. A light breeze ruffled her black curls, but she was simply in no hurry to leave her little niche and join the others. She sighed deeply with a feeling of total peace and contentment, even as she suddenly sensed another presence by her side.
"Your cousins have sent me up here to escort you back down the stairs, Miss Katherine," a rich masculine voice said at her ear. "I am Sir Thomas Small, and actually having observed you from below, I do not think you can possibly be related to the Bowens at all. I think you are the magical lady of this tower."
Kitty turned to look up at the gentleman, a clever sally upon her rosy lips, but it died in her throat as her green eyes locked onto a pair of deep, smoky blue ones. You have found me at last! Her heart hammered violently in her chest even as the words flew through her brain. I know this man, she thought wildly as her more practical nature struggled to assert itself, assuring her that she had never seen this handsome man before in her entire life. I know this man! both her heart and her soul insisted, and struggling no more against her deeper instincts, she gave in to the wonderful feelings sweeping over her.
Sir Thomas Small smiled warmly into Katherine Williams's face, and taking her dainty hand in his, he said quietly. "Yes, I feel it too, dear Miss Katherine. You must not think me mad, although I am not certain I have not gone mad. Will you believe me when I say, beautiful lady of the tower, that I believe we are fated to marry? Will you believe me, my darling one, when I tell you that I intend making you my wife as soon as your guardians will allow us to wed? God!" He ran an impatient hand through his wavy, dark hair. "What must you think of me? I swear I am not a lunatic. I have never before behaved in such a manner with a woman!" His fingers squeezed hers gendy. "You will marry me, won't you?"
Kitty nodded slowly, mesmerized by his eyes, her gaze anxiously scanning his face for something, but she knew not what. "I do not think you mad at all, sir, for I, too, am beset by emotions familiar, and yet quite unfamiliar to me. Still, I know in my heart that what you say is true, and I will gladly marry you."
He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it lingeringly, the warmth of his lips filling her with a delicious heat. It was all so strangely right, she thought, losing herself in the depths of his wonderfully smoky gaze. For a sweet brief moment she saw this place as it had once been; the fireplaces blazing in the Great Hall below, colorful silken banners hanging from the rafters, the servants hurrying to and fro. Then as suddenly her vision cleared and he was smiling at her.
"Shall we join the others, my darling?" he asked her, and without waiting for an answer, he led her down the flight of wet stone steps from the ruined tower to join the others.
As they went, Kitty suddenly realized that she had been waiting all her eighteen years-no!-she had been waiting centuries for this tall, dark-haired stranger who was not really a stranger at all. They had been fated since time began to be together in this time and place. Yes! They would be married, although she knew that her aunt, in particular, would be most shocked. But she and Tom, Kitty knew, would have a marvel-ously happy life together. An instinct she had never even known she had assured her of that. For an instant she wondered if it were possible to expire of pure, sheer happiness. She had never believed such joy possible.
As they reached the bottom of the staircase she heard a bird cry above them, and looking up she saw a large, black raven soaring in the bright blue sky. Remember! Kitty heard the word as clearly as if someone had whispered it into her ear. Remember! Yes, she would indeed remember. How was it possible to ever forget this wonderful moment in time that had brought them together-reunited them, she was certain- once again; but deep within the very core of her being she knew that this time it would be Forever.
Authors Note
Reincarnation. A most controversial subject, yet many people and cultures believe in it. I have read it was even taught in the early Christian church. A practice quickly discontinued when it was realized that the early converts, simple people for the most part, were taking the attitude that they might be less than good in their current lives because they could always repent in the next incarnation.
That, of course, is not the purpose of reincarnation. It is believed we reincarnate in order to perfect our human souls, that we may in time aspire to a higher level of existence. If you accept the Christ it seems quite obvious, for who among us can believe we might attain in a single lifetime that which God incarnate, in the persona of Jesus of Nazareth, attained in his single lifetime? I leave it to the reader to decide. Faith is a deeply personal matter, which is as it should be.
The simple premise of A Moment in Time hinges on those single moments in time when we make decisions, some important, some not so, which affect us for our entire lives. Its ending is admittedly a very different one for a Historical Romance novel, but I like to think it offers the reader the reassurance of better things to come. I hope you have enjoyed this book as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
Next year Ballantine Books and I will bring you the sixth and final book in the O'Malley Saga. It is the tale of Yasaman Kama Begum, the lost daughter of Velvet de Marisco. It will, I promise, be a great deal of fun when Yasaman, rechristened Jasmine, arrives in England, and havoc ensues among the members of her loving, if somewhat surprised, family there. You'll meet several old friends, but don't assume anything, dear readers, because you know how very much I enjoy surprising you!
In the meantime I hope you will write to tell me how you enjoyed A Moment in Time. Until next year I remain your most faithful author,
Bertrice Small
P.O. Box 765
Southold. NY 11971
Bertrice Small
***
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