After the last of the guests had been bid goodbye, Penelope and Georgina looped arms and made their way upstairs. Downstairs, Harry, Heath and Uncle Henry were left to their port and cigars.
‘Mrs Priscopp is inviting her Anne to visit,’ Georgina observed.
‘She told me.’
‘Well, you simply must secure Mr Lockwood’s affections before that very disagreeable girl gets here.’
‘Georgina!’
‘Well, if I was only suspicious before, after observing you both tonight I am certain of his growing affection for you,’ Georgina said.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Penelope said, secretly pleased. The corners of her lips itched with a smile.
Georgina eyed her. ‘Oh, I think you know well enough what I mean. Neither I, nor any other, have any hope of Mr Lockwood falling in love with us when he is so obviously enamoured with you.’
Penelope remained quiet but felt like she was glowing from the inside out. The sound of Heath’s laughter wafted up to them from downstairs, warming her heart even more. She felt as if she might actually burst.
‘I shall keep him here for you,’ Georgina whispered conspiratorially, ‘I’ll tell Harry not to let him go until he has proposed! We shall make him our prisoner of sorts!’
Penelope shivered at her words. ‘Georgie, you will do no such thing! We know nothing about him.’
‘Wasn’t it you who said that didn’t matter, so long as his manners and conduct were acceptable?’ Georgina pointed out.
‘Yes. I suppose I did.’
They reached the point on the stairs where they parted for their rooms. ‘Goodnight, Penelope.’ Georgina hugged her, eyes twinkling with mischief and delight. ‘Sweet dreams.’
Once in her chamber, Penelope took her time preparing for bed.
Brushing out her long, pale hair she mulled over the evening, thinking of how attentive Heath had been and how glorious he made her feel. She trembled, recalling the feel of his warm, brown eyes on her, consuming her, and how his smile made her heart flutter and catch in her throat. She wondered what might happen if he ever actually touched her, if his lips ever kissed hers.
How she wished she had a mother to counsel her, to provide guidance in matters of the heart. Her mother had died when Penelope was young, and she had only vague memories of a pretty, gentle lady. Sometimes, Penelope would sit near her mother’s grave and talk to her, even though she knew well enough that ghosts couldn’t talk. But maybe they could hear.
She was just climbing into bed when she heard a noise outside her room. She paused. It came again, a soft flutter that was almost indiscernible. Climbing down and pulling on her robe, she went to investigate.
It was dark in the corridor, her room set too far away from the other family members for them to be the cause of the disturbance. The only light came from the glow of the lamp in her bedroom behind her, which cast eerie shadows along the wall and illuminated the faces in the ancestral portraits.
She scanned the length of the passage. It was quiet and empty. She heard nothing except the evening sounds that belonged to Broadhurst Manor and were comfortingly familiar. But for some inexplicable reason she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
Like she was being watched.
A cold breeze blew into her room and she shivered. There were no windows open. Staring hard into the darkness she thought she saw the brief flicker of a shadow, as if someone lay hidden in the corner, shielded by inky darkness. Like a spider, waiting to ensnare its prey.
‘Is someone there?’ she called, her voice echoing in the corridor. She felt a little silly.
When no one answered, she shut her bedroom door, closing it with a solid thud and pressing it securely. Hesitating for just a moment, she locked it, turning the key quickly and stuffing it into the pocket of her robe. It was the first time she’d ever locked her door at Broadhurst Manor.
Chapter Ten
Present day
I woke the next morning to the sounds of Evanescence’s My Immortal coming from my cell phone by the bed.
It was Beth and it was only seven am.
‘What’s up?’ I mumbled, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
‘My mum took her car and mine’s still in the shop.’
I read between the lines and groaned, ‘No. Not the bus!’
‘If you left now you could walk?’
Silence greeted that suggestion.
‘You could call Laura?’
‘She lives across town,’ I complained, ‘and Meredith has already left.’
‘Sorry, Abs,’ Beth said, sounding genuinely apologetic, before she hung up.
The bus was the epitome of hell for me, as Lilly and Emma were regular travellers of it, a fact that I found odd for popular teenage girls. Nevertheless, catching the bus would provide Lilly and Emma with riotous entertainment and me with some form of humiliation.
Damn, I thought, Maybe I could skip today. But I never cut, and besides, I had an idea for my painting of Broadhurst Parsonage.
I shivered, thinking back to Broadhurst, where I’d been just moments before Beth had rung. How I wished Penelope was as aware of these double lives as I was. If only there was a way to warn her, to make her alert of the threat stalking her. Of the man with the terrifyingly beautiful silver grey eyes.
Rolling over, I stared at the ceiling. I envied Penelope. Envied all the other forms of me who’d been blissfully unaware. Ignorance was something I’d never have—not in this lifetime, at least.
After locking the front door, I hurried down the path, not wanting to be late for the bus. It picked up at the end of the street but never seemed to arrive on time, arriving ten minutes either side of schedule. Thanks to Beth, I hadn’t needed to catch the bus for months, and I had hoped to never face it—Lilly with it—again. But there was no point in being annoyed; it wasn’t Beth’s fault, and I hadn’t quite saved enough money to afford my own decent car. Not if I wanted to get out of Brookdale anyhow.
‘Abbie!’
I froze at the sound of a male voice calling my name. Even though he’d been at school for nearly a week, he hadn’t spoken to me since that first day in art. Still, I knew his voice. Knew it very well, even without the strong English accent.
Gathering my wits, I began walking again. I didn’t even look in his direction.
‘Abbie! Hey, wait up!’ The sound of footsteps running to catch up meant I had no choice but to turn around, though I did briefly consider running away.
Marcus appeared almost the same as I’d seen him in my dream last night, only more modern in his jeans and t-shirt, his trendy haircut falling across his forehead. His eyes were the same—like burnt chocolate. His lopsided grin was the same too, making my stomach perform tiny somersaults just like Penelope’s did every time he looked at her.
‘What is it?’ I asked, managing to find my voice.
‘Aren’t you going to school?’
‘Of course.’ I gestured to the books I carried.
‘Right. You normally go with your friend.’
‘So?’ I said a little too rudely. I didn’t want to be rude to him, but I didn’t want to like him, either. At least not the way Penelope liked him.
‘So, she’s not here.’
I smiled. ‘Your powers of observation are brilliant.’
His lips quirked. ‘Where is she?’
‘Her car’s in the shop. I’m catching the bus. Not that it’s any of your business.’
He glanced up the street as if expecting the bus to suddenly materialise. ‘Well, do you want a lift?’
‘What?’ I peered at him curiously. ‘With you?’
Marcus shrugged. ‘Yeah. With me.’
I hesitated. A ride on the bus with Lilly and Emma could result in bruising, bleeding, or at the very least, severe mortification. But at least I knew what I was in for with them. With Marcus, I didn’t know what to expect.
‘C’mon,’ Marcus urged, his voice friendly and easygoing, ‘we’re neighbour
s, aren’t we?’
‘Well…’ I paused. I wasn’t sure about being in close proximity to him. What would we even talk about? Broadhurst Manor? Harry and Georgina? ‘Someone might see you,’ I pointed out.
He frowned. ‘And?’
I sighed. Did I have to spell it out? ‘Hanging with me is not so good for your reputation.’
Marcus shrugged. ‘Look, do you want a lift? I’m being friendly.’
I considered him before nodding. ‘Thanks.’
Following him, I climbed into his red Toyota. It was some kind of sports model, a few years old, and inside it smelt strongly of leather and apple shampoo. I was sure that when I got close enough to Marcus he’d smell like apple shampoo, too.
I flushed suddenly. If I got close enough to Marcus, I corrected myself, not when. Strapping on my seatbelt, I stared out the window, careful not to look at him, my cheeks still hot.
‘So you don’t have a car?’ Marcus said after a few moments of driving in silence.
‘Another brilliant use of your powers of observation. You know, you should use your powers for evil. You’d make more money and be able to buy an even flashier car to impress the girls with.’
The edges of his mouth twitched. ‘You’re a girl. Do I impress you?’
‘No. I’m not impressed by flashy cars.’
‘You don’t want a car?’ he asked, purposefully ignoring my gibe.
‘Sure. But I don’t have a mummy and a daddy to buy me one,’ I said pointedly.
Marcus laughed. ‘Hey, I paid for half this baby. I spent hours delivering papers, pumping gas, and babysitting.’
‘You babysat?’ I asked wryly.
‘Sure. My aunt has two little brats I watch.’ He glanced at me. ‘Doesn’t pay as much as the library though, I bet.’
I bristled. ‘How do you know I work there?’
‘I’ve been spying on—’ he started to whisper, then laughed at the shocked expression that must have crossed my face. ‘Relax. I haven’t been spying on you. Your aunt told my mum. She suggested I apply for a job there.’
‘And? Did you?’ I wasn’t sure how I felt about working with Marcus. I held my breath waiting for his answer, which was silly. What did I care where he worked?
‘Nah. Libraries aren’t really my scene,’ he laughed, ‘Although, you don’t look much like a librarian.’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ I tugged at the short, dark green dress I wore over torn black tights.
‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ Marcus replied easily, ‘It’s just an observation.’
‘Well, I already told you. I don’t want you observing me,’ I bristled.
‘You told me to use my powers for evil, not good,’ he teased.
‘Well, I don’t want you to know anything about me.’ I was being ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it. Something about Marcus set me on edge. The way he looked at me. The way he’d stepped out of my dreams and into the house next door. That last fact alone was enough to give me the creeps.
‘O-kay,’ he said, sighing heavily.
He pulled into the school parking lot and switched off the engine. I climbed out and slammed the door, stalking in the direction of my first class, anxious to get away from Marcus Knight and his absurd normalcy. Didn’t he know he was currently courting me circa 1806? How could he not remember? How could he not recall that two hundred years ago his name was Heath Lockwood and, like now, he’d managed to turn me into a quivering mess, albeit for different reasons?
Marcus was beside me in a flash. ‘Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I thought maybe we could be friends,’ he said, easily matching me stride for stride.
‘I don’t need friends,’ I replied, ‘and trust me, you don’t need me as your friend.’
‘But we’re neighbours.’
‘That is a fact I can’t change.’
‘You could at least thank me for the lift.’
I stopped, turning to face him. His eyes sparked with amusement. What was with him anyhow? Why was he so intent on talking to me? Maybe I should get leave me alone tattooed across my forehead, maybe then he’d get the hint.
Staring at his face, at his deep brown eyes and wide mouth, I had a sudden urge to kiss him. My imagination ran away of its own accord, and I could almost feel his soft lips pressed against mine, smell the warm scent of him and hear the soft thud of his heartbeat pressed against my own.
As if I’d kissed him before.
Had I kissed him before? My mind grew foggy as I raced through all my dreams and memories. I had kissed him before, I was sure of it. But I couldn’t find it in Penelope’s story, at least not yet.
I began to sway, tilting towards him and feeling slightly faint, when he caught me, steadying me upright. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his voice concerned, brows knitted together.
‘Fine,’ I said, pausing before I continued. ‘Um, thanks for the lift.’
Then, before he could say another word, I hurried off, ignoring the feel of his heated gaze on my back and the way my heart felt as if it might beat itself free of my chest.
‘So you really can’t come tomorrow night?’ I asked again.
Beth shook her head. ‘Sorry. I promised my mum I’d go to the dance if she paid for my car.’
‘But it’s Hard Candy!’
‘I know, but there’s nothing I can do,’ Beth sighed, ‘It’s just one night.’
I sighed and picked at my lunch. ‘Ugh, one night of torture. You couldn’t pay me to go,’ I looked at Laura, ‘What about you?’
Laura had the grace to appear shamefaced. ‘Well…’ She exchanged looks with Beth.
‘What?’ I asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously at my two friends. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Well, I can hardly turn up to the Spring dance on my own,’ Beth offered lamely.
‘So you’re going too?’ I demanded of Laura, feeling further betrayed.
‘Well, you wouldn’t want Beth to face it alone, would you?’ countered Laura.
I was furious. ‘Well, why didn’t you ask me?’
They exchanged another look. ‘What would you have said?’
‘No. I would have said no, because I have principles, and I stand by them. I thought you guys did, too.’
‘C’mon, Abbie, it’s just one school dance,’ Beth muttered.
‘And I suppose you’ll be going to prom, now, all of a sudden?’ I mumbled, feeling more socially rejected than I ever had before.
Silence greeted me.
‘Oh my god!’ I shrieked, drawing the attention of those at the surrounding tables, ‘You are thinking about prom!’
‘My mum said it’s an important rite of passage and that I’ll regret it if I don’t go,’ Beth mumbled, her cheeks flaming red.
I grabbed my bag and stood up. ‘Your mum? Fine. You do exactly what your mummy says.’ I shot Laura a disparaging look before angrily striding away. Could this day possibly get any worse? It was one thing to be a reject of the majority of the student body, but now I bordered on being a reject of my own friends.
‘Going to slit your wrists, little emo girl?’ snickered Lilly as I marched past her table.
‘Do it properly, though,’ added Emma, ‘and spare us your ghastly presence every day.’ The two girls, plus their friends, broke into fits of laughter.
Damn, why didn’t I go the other way? In my haste to get away from Beth, Laura and their treachery, I’d walked right into Lilly’s lair.
I drew a ragged breath, fisted my hands, and continued walking.
Marcus was at the doorway, his bag slung carelessly over his shoulder. ‘Abbie, hey,’ he said, smiling easily as I pushed past him.
‘Hey, wait up!’ he called, and for the second time that day I heard him running to catch up with me. ‘What’s up?’
‘Leave me alone,’ I said irritably, not meeting his eyes.
‘You look upset.’
‘Another observation?’ I drawled sarcastically, ‘Well done, Einstein, now go join
your friends and use your genius for those evil measures, and leave me alone.’
‘You want to be alone? Like Greta Garbo?’ His lips twitched.
‘Got it, pretty boy.’
‘You think I’m pretty?’ he asked, and I could hear the smile in his words, although I didn’t dare look at him.
‘I don’t think of you. Period.’ Even to me, the lie felt ugly in my mouth, like a bad taste. I did think about him, all the time, and, when I wasn’t thinking about him, I was dreaming about him.
Then he said, ‘C’mon, Abbie. You think about me. I bet you’ve even dreamed about me.’
I stopped, turning slowly to face him, feeling the blood drain from my face. ‘What did you say?’ I whispered. Suddenly, my throat felt very dry and parched. Did he know about the dreams? Did he remember? Could he, somehow, help me? Help Penelope?
‘Aha! I got you,’ smiled Marcus, chuckling, looking pleased.
I stared at him in confusion, my heart thumping chaotically in my chest.
‘Hey, lighten up,’ he said after a moment, winking at me. ‘It was only a joke.’
And just like that, my heart fell, dropping to the pit of my stomach. He didn’t remember.
‘A joke?’ I glared at him, feeling a flush of heat. ‘Well, I’m not laughing! And I’m not a joke, pretty boy, so you can just stop laughing at me!’
I stormed off, and this time, he didn’t follow.
Chapter Eleven
1806
Penelope sat proudly in the front row listening to her father’s sermon, resisting the urge to turn around.
That morning he was lecturing about science and how the scientific community was encroaching into areas of faith where it shouldn’t. God, the Holy Spirit and faith could not be explained by science. His voice and message rang clearly around the small, crowded church; he spoke with a depth and a passion Penelope knew he felt.
Afterwards, she stood beside him as he greeted each parishioner by name, chatting amicably with them.
Time After Time Page 6
