Hawk needed time to think this through. "Please tell me everything from the time you arrived at Hawk's Den in this -- this other time."
"I arrived with Leif on a day that was threatening to rain at any moment. I came in from New York. The dark weather seemed to follow us all the way down. When we finally arrived it was late afternoon."
"You travelled with your friend Leif?"
"He was in his car, his conveyance, and I was in mine. I met up with him in Philadelphia along the way. When we arrived it had just begun to rain. We were greeted by the housekeeper Mrs. Cummins."
Hawk put a hand to his temple, rubbing it to ease the ache there. As Isabeau told him everything she had seen and encountered in the house, he kept thinking this was a fantastic tale and yet he felt she fully believed what she was telling him.
"The last thing you recall was reading the family Bible." He knew of course about the Bible. His aunt had pointed it out to him only last week, telling him once he married Amelia, their marriage would be recorded in the tome. Hawk rubbed harder at his temple. Amelia, his fiancée whom he did not recognize. A sweet girl by all accounts, but someone he no longer recalled loving, if indeed he had loved her before the accident. Another situation he needed to resolve. Damn the amnesia!
Hawk rose to his feet, pacing the floor restlessly. He knew Isabeau watched him, but he couldn't offer her reassurance that he believed her story.
"Isabeau, I must ask that I be alone. I need time, and this has given me much to think about."
Her sigh indicated discouragement. "I understand," she said.
He watched her walk to the door, realizing the dismal state of affairs and what it meant to her. Whatever the true story, if this was the true story, it sorely affected her life. "Your life -- you have lost your life," he said somberly. He saw the shock on her face, and quickly she shook her head no.
"I won't believe that. I have to believe I can find the way back to my own time."
But he saw the fear in her eyes. He knew she was afraid she would not be able to go back, if indeed this whole thing was true. Hawk could offer no assurances. He watched her close the door, shaking his head, trying to make sense of all she had said.
Moments later he too left the library. He had to find his aunt.
#
Hawk rapped at his aunt's wood-paneled door. He had heard voices as he approached so he knew the room was not empty.
"Aunt -- Aunt, we need to talk. No more hiding in your rooms. It is time that we talk."
The glass knob turned under his hand and he released it, stepping back. The door opened to reveal Maize and Belva behind her.
Maize stepped back to invite him inside.
Hawk entered the sitting room, watching the two women he knew only as his relatives. The connection still felt hazy, and he felt a tinge of guilt that he felt no real connection to them. They obviously cared for him, saw to his comfort on all levels, and for that he was grateful, but he felt more as if they were acquaintances then his blood kin. But Hawk put that problem to the back of his mind. He needed to concentrate on more pressing matters.
Belva stepped out from behind Maize, her small frame dwarfed by his height.
"Please join us for tea, Hawk. We were just about to sit down." She indicated a small wicker table that had been set out onto their small patio. Hawk followed them through the cluttered sitting room and out onto the shaded patio. The stone underfoot was smooth and no doubt kept the patio cool when the summer heat was at its worst.
Hawk sat gingerly on the large wicker chair Belva indicated. Surely it would hold him, though it was obviously meant for a slighter frame than his own.
He waited patiently as Belva fussed with the teapot and cups. "Aunt, you know why we need to talk."
"Isabeau," she said, handing him a cup. "I confess I have been unsure as to how to broach this matter."
"It's something one may find difficult to comprehend," Maize said gravely.
Hawk put down his fine china cup with its saucer and sat back, eyeing the two ladies. "So tell me what you know of it."
"If Belva had not summoned spirits through that devil board " Maize said.
"It was the only way to keep you safe --" Belva began.
Hawk put up his hand. "Ladies, please. Aunt, since you seem to be the one who started all this, you explain."
"Maize is correct. I spoke to the spirits using the conjuring board." Vaguely, she pointed to the sitting room inside. "I've been worried some time for your welfare, Hawk. You are my only kin left and you have your entire life ahead of you. I could not bear the thought that you would be taken from us." She sat up straight, her hands primly in her lap. Hawk noticed a faraway look in her eyes as she continued in a somewhat dreamy voice, "I spoke to them night after night, searching for a way to keep you safe." She looked out over the sunlit gardens. "It came to me one morning when I awoke. I recalled the old book of incantations and spells. It was a simple matter of choosing the right one to obtain help -- the best possible help to keep you safe."
"And you think somehow that brought Isabeau here from another time?" he made no attempt to hide his skepticism.
His aunt turned wide eyes on him. "Yes, that's true. I was told it was done." She clasped her hands tightly. "I know you are not happy with these circumstances, and I fear Isabeau was rightly angry, but now it is done."
"Why Isabeau?" he asked tersely.
"She was in another's heart. There is one other who came here from another time, and she was pulled in with them." She darted him a quick look. "I don't know the identity of the other person, but that's how the information was relayed to me."
"So you're presuming when you asked for help from your board, and then Isabeau shows up, that your conjuring must have worked?"
She nodded.
"But Aunt, we really have no proof, do we?"
"Isabeau has no idea how she came to be here," Belva offered helpfully.
"Her appearance on my ship may be a mystery but it does not prove a case of time travel," he muttered. The ache in his head settled to a dull throb. He pressed two fingers to his temple. "I'm no nearer the truth than when she first arrived. She believes this, you know. She believes she has been displaced in time. Needless to say, she wants to go back. If this is true" -- he held up one hand as his aunt looked ready to burst into speech "-- if it is true, you need to reverse what you have done."
"No, no." Belva shook her head. "I cannot."
"Why?" he asked patiently.
"The spell must run its course."
Hawk came to his feet. "Aunt, excuse me if I again express my disbelief. You, Maize and Isabeau believe she has traveled in time. Think of the torment she would suffer to know she might never return to her time and her loved ones." The thought caused him distress and yet he had a difficult time believing this as truth, but he recalled the fear in her eyes. She believed all she had told him.
"I am sorry, Hawk, for the distress this has caused her," Belva said sadly.
"There will be no more consulting the devil board. Do you understand me?" he said sternly.
Belva nodded.
Without another word Hawk left the patio and walked out across the yard. He needed to clear his head. He needed a fast ride.
#
Early the next morning, Belva approached Isabeau about running an errand to Sanderly Manor, Treat's home. She charged her with obtaining several business ledgers that Treat was expecting someone from Hawk's Den household to retrieve for Hawk. Belva also mentioned this would be a good opportunity for Isabeau to gather her own impressions regarding Hawk's half brother.
Isabeau regarded her suspiciously. "You left me high and dry yesterday, Belva. You said you would help me, and then you couldn't be found when it came time for explanations to Hawk."
Belva bit her lip. "I could not face my nephew. All of this is my fault and I am afraid I have made a mess of things. He already thinks me a crazed woman --"
"Well, no doubt now he thinks I'm crazed too,
telling him about traveling through time."
"I have made it right -- yes, I have spoken with him," Belva said quickly. "Hawk sought me out. I told him everything I know."
Isabeau's heart lifted. "And does he believe you?"
"He is conflicted," Belva admitted sadly. "But he will come to see in time it is true."
Isabeau's excitement ebbed. "Of course."
"Will you go to Sanderly Manor?" Belva asked again.
"Yes, of course." Isabeau indicated her skirt and blouse. "Thank you again for the use of this outfit."
Belva ducked her head. "I am glad we are of a size." As they stood in the garden Belva looked past her shoulder. "Harmon works in the stables with the horses, but he is available to take you down the river to Sanderly Manor. Just follow the straight path and you will see the boat landing at the end of the walkway." As Isabeau turned to leave, Belva caught her arm in a strong grip. "Just remember to be on your guard."
"Of course. Do you suspect Treat in this plot?"
"I just am unwilling to trust anyone. Mrs. Sanderly can be difficult, so if you should find her in residence, merely state your mission."
Isabeau walked out through the gardens and followed the straight path to the river. The boatman, Harmon, a young man about her own age, early twenties, awaited her at the small landing below Hawk's Den. They reached Sanderly Manor, a short jaunt down the river, by means of a rowboat. Isabeau found it an interesting ride gliding past glorious houses and mansions. Seeing history up close and personal still felt slightly unreal.
"I will await your return," Harmon promised, tipping his cap at her. He held the boat steady and gave her a hand out to the small wooden dock.
"I shouldn't be long," she promised, walking along the short dock and stepping onto Sanderly Manor's graveled path.
Isabeau walked up a narrow path, her eyes on the house just visible through a screen of white birch trees. She stopped a moment to survey her surroundings, stretching her toes in the new button boots that had been loaned to her by the housekeeper's daughter. They felt just a bit large on her feet, but she couldn't complain; they would have to do for now. The skirt she wore was of the softest cotton, a pretty pale green, along with a high collar blouse that buttoned right up under her chin. Isabeau pressed the lace flounce, smoothing it down so it didn't tickle her throat. She needed to do something about clothing for herself, but right now it was not her biggest concern.
She moved along the path with its slight incline, eyeing the house in the bright sunshine. White-washed wood with grey shutters, a large three-story house with a low-lying stone wall encompassing it. Several outbuildings were strategically placed around the house, little gravel paths leading to each smaller structure, the entire scenario neat and quite charming.
To Isabeau, it embodied everything she had ever read about the South and sprawling plantation houses. The grounds and flowering gardens she passed were immaculately kept. She noticed several older men tending the various flower and rock gardens on the property.
Locating the back door of the house, Isabeau entered the cool interior and found a young girl busy preparing food. Curiously, Isabeau took in the girl's scraggly blond hair and overall rumpled appearance. Her first impression was she looked overworked and tired.
The young girl gave a startled cry when she suddenly noticed Isabeau in the doorway, and dropped the bowl she held. With an apology, Isabeau moved to help her retrieve the peas now scattered on the floor, but the girl waved her away, her manner quite agitated.
On her knees, the girl frantically scrabbled around, trying to retrieve each pea from the brick floor.
"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Isabeau said.
Nervously, the young girl said, "Miss, you should have entered the front entrance."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I came from the river; my boatman is waiting for me. I'm on an errand from Hawk Morgan. Mr. Sanderly is expecting me."
"I'll inform Mr. Treat of your arrival." The young girl showed her to the front hall. "Please wait in here, miss," she said, indicating a small room to the left.
Isabeau entered a comfortably elegant room. Unlike Hawk's Den, the Manor did not appear to suffer signs of neglect. Fresh paint was evident, and the woodwork and trim had a new coat of stain. Bright new paper covered the walls in a beautiful blending of colors with the rest of the room.
Isabeau stared at the clean, ash-free grate of the exquisitely tiled fireplace. Everything appeared very clean and in perfect order.
The young girl returned almost immediately. "Come with me," she appealed softly. "Mr. Treat has the books."
Leaving the room Isabeau followed her down a richly paneled corridor, coming to a halt outside a closed door. The girl rapped timidly on richly hued wood panels. A voice bid them to enter. The girl pushed open the door and moved forward into the room.
Isabeau looked into the room and hesitated as a peculiar, claustrophobic feeling closed in upon her. The room was virtually dark, lit only by one gas lamp.
"What is it?" a voice asked loudly.
"There's someone here from Mr. Hawk for the ledgers," Isabeau heard the young girl's quavering voice. Isabeau stayed just outside the shadowy room. Treat sat behind a large desk, sorting through several books as the young girl waited.
Although bright sunshine prevailed outside, it had not been allowed access to this room. Curtains were drawn and windows tightly closed against any intruding breeze. Isabeau could understand why when she noticed the many papers strewn across the desk before Treat.
He pushed the ledgers forward without looking up or acknowledging her presence and the young girl picked them up.
Isabeau hid her surprise at his disheveled appearance. Although he wore a suit and tie as he had the last time she'd seen him, the tie was pulled sideways and his white shirt was unbuttoned.
The girl carried the ledgers to the door and quickly motioned for Isabeau to follow. The girl closed the door.
"Thank you." Isabeau took the books, and for a moment a sickly sweet odor wafted by her nose. She couldn't wait to get out of the house. It suddenly felt terribly oppressive, even though most of what she had seen looked quite pleasant.
"Good day, miss."
"Thank you." Isabeau quickly retraced her steps to the kitchen and out the back door, relieved to be free of the house.
"Girl!"
It took a moment before Isabeau realized she was being hailed by a tall woman walking across the lawn. Automatically, Isabeau stopped.
"What are you about with those books?" The woman challenged her.
Isabeau clutched the ledgers tightly to her chest.
Dressed in pale blue silk, the blonde woman was beautiful, slender with black hair and of indeterminate age. She was tall and her milky white complexion was shaded by a wide brimmed, matching hat. Her expression clearly indicated she thought Isabeau was up to no good. At her feet barked a small sausage-shaped dog with a dark, tightly-curled coat.
Isabeau felt the skin tightening across her scalp, but kept her voice level. "I've come for the books, Miss -- "
"Mrs. Sanderly," the woman cut in, tapping an immaculate white boot.
The small dog lunged at Isabeau's ankles, teeth snapping. She moved back cautiously.
"Charles, that is enough." The dog stopped the annoying barking, but continued to bare its teeth at Isabeau. Warily, she kept her eyes on him.
"Belva asked me to pick up these ledgers for Hawk."
"Hawk?" Visibly, the woman hesitated, her demeanor undergoing a perceptible transformation as a smile almost managed to soften the rigid corners of her mouth. In the next moment her eyes lost their softness, and she snapped, "I imagine he's paying you an exorbitant sum for such a simple task. Why are you sneaking about?" She waved her hand. "Oh, never mind. Come with me, come along, I need some assistance and this will take but a moment."
Isabeau hesitated and the woman's brows rose imperiously.
"Don't be dallying needlessly. Since you ar
e here, you can help me. I am sure Hawk would want you to assist me."
The woman turned and walked back toward the house. At the kitchen door, she looked back at Isabeau, an impatient frown on her face. "Do come. My boy has disappeared and I have no one to do this chore. I swear, I don't know why help expects to get paid these days, they are never about when I need them." Mrs. Sanderly stopped just inside the kitchen door and pointed to an earthenware jug.
"There."
The jug contained a dark liquid with vegetables floating on the top.
Hands on hips, Mrs. Sanderly stared at Isabeau. "Pick it up. Here --" she unexpectedly pulled the ledgers from Isabeau's hands before Isabeau could guess her intent. "I'll hold these." She clutched them tightly in her hands. "Now pick up this crock and follow me."
Staggering with the weight of her burden, Isabeau followed the woman back outside, gritting her teeth. Mrs. Sanderly walked past the footpath Isabeau would have taken, past several rock gardens and toward one of the smaller outbuildings set off by itself. Isabeau concentrated on not spilling whatever was in the crock on herself.
"Over here." The older woman stopped beside a small shed encircled by a pen. With distaste, Isabeau realized there were several large pigs inside. Apparently they sensed or smelled they were going to be fed, and started a ruckus, their hooves hitting the bottom rail of the fence.
"Well, hurry, what are you waiting for? Put it in the trough."
Isabeau looked at the feeding trough. She would have to walk into the pig pen to reach it. The pigs would be at her feet. She looked disbelievingly at Mrs. Sanderly as the woman delicately held a lace edged hankie to her nose.
The pigs were enormous, black and grey, and making more noise by the minute. They seemed to be getting almost frantic.
Isabeau placed the crock on the grass, stepping back as a whitish liquid slopped over the sides. She shook her head. "I'm sorry but I am not going in there."
"Do my bidding girl. I'll have Hawk dismiss you," she warned, her mouth in a tight line as she shook a finger in Isabeau's face.
"Well, then I guess he'll have to." Isabeau lunged forward and yanked at the ledgers in the woman's milky white fingers. With an outraged shriek, the woman held on a moment, then released them when Isabeau kept tugging. The woman stepped back, looking as if she would faint.
Time Travel Romance Collection Page 8
