He gave Cassandra a sad smile, and she was conscious of the irony of his falling in love with her instead. “Didn’t Miss Austen have something to say about a single man of a certain income, necessarily being in want of a wife?” he asked with tired humor.
“I believe so,” Cassandra responded and paused. “But how is this possible? How can you give up what you love so much? At this time in life to not be able to be your own man!”
“I have no choice,” he said with finality.
“Of course you do,” she replied. “Money is not everything. It is nothing compared to your love of music. That is your life, it is who you are!”
“You can say that,” he said bitterly, “you are independent and no one is your master. Now I must live a life devoted to my parents’ whims until they die. It could be twenty years, for God’s sake! But if you marry me—”
“You would be free of this burden,” she remarked, a chill running down her spine.
“Yes,” he whispered.
She took a deep breath. “You never told me what your father’s business is.”
“He is in the sugar trade with Jamaica,” he said flatly.
Her blood turned from cold to ice. The sugar plantations fueled the slave trade. Sugar made rum, rum was a hugely important commodity, and the plantations could not be run without slaves. These industries were completely dependent on each other. To be in the sugar trade meant, directly or indirectly, one was involved in the slave trade.
“You cannot do it,” she said firmly. “You can say what you want about my financially independent perspective, but you cannot participate in that business. To trade sugar means to trade slaves. You must know that.”
He turned away from her, his face red. “I am not sure of that—”
“Yes, you are!” she cried. “Do not tell me that. You know your father must be involved with slavery. How could you be a part of that?”
“Cassandra, you cannot know—”
“I do! My husband bought and sold slaves,” she said tearfully, now believing her own false history. “I never told you. I found out after he died.”
“Dear God.”
It all seemed suddenly too real.
“Cassandra,” he continued, “if you do not marry me, I will have no choice but to do that terrible work. You can save me from such a fate!”
She regarded him with disdain. “If I am the only thing standing between you and participation in such atrocities, you are not the man I thought you were. I have my answer for you, Ben, and it is no. I am leaving soon, and I am leaving alone.”
“Cassandra” he uttered, now in tears. “Please reconsider. Please let me go with you.”
She was moved by his anguish and took his hand. “I am sorry, but I cannot feel the same way about you if you would even consider such work. However, you must live your life and do what you have to do. I must go back to my son. I will always love you, but we can never see each other again.”
She let go his hand and took off the ring. “Please, take this,” she said, putting it into his palm. “I am leaving for London to settle my business affairs as soon as I have everything in order here. Then I am off to Portsmouth and America, so let us say goodbye now. But Benedict,” she continued, taking his hand again and speaking adamantly, “Listen to me. As a person who has seen the horror and the ravages that slavery inflicts on individuals and on a nation, I beseech you to act with your conscience. That is all I have to say to you.”
“Please, Cassandra.”
“Good-bye, Benedict.” She stood and walked away from him to the window, tears streaming down her face. She heard his footsteps, then the sitting room door closed behind him.
Moments later, she felt the thud of the great doors of Sorrel Hall.
******
January 1st, 1821 – The first day of the New Year. I have been at Sorrel Hall almost a full year, and now, it is time for me to return home. Today, I am not celebrating the New Year, and neither am I mourning the loss of the old. Within my soul I am celebrating the experiences I have had this last year, both good and bad, and I am trying to anticipate what the future will have to offer me. There are certainly many people I shall be joyous to see again, my darling son primary among them.
I won’t be able to take back much of the clothing and various other items I’ve acquired here, because I’d have to carry it all to the portal exit from the White Hart Inn. But I do intend to bring some things with me, and am glad there is no taboo about bringing souvenirs from the past to the future as there is the other way around, bringing modern items into the past. The only possible exception to this is Jane’s letter because it is something that would not have otherwise existed in the future if I had not saved it from the fire. The other things, such as the Christmas gifts I received, will simply be relics, my mementos: authentic artifacts from a time I can never return to.
I have given many of my clothes away to my friends among the farmers’ wives, who were thrilled to have such finery. I also gave away undergarments, gloves, slippers, and other necessities to Mary, Anna, and the other female servants. I knew Mrs. Merriweather would accept no charity, but the others heartily appreciated the lovely things. And, from the excess cash I still keep hidden in the false bottom of my suitcase, I’ve made up envelopes of bonuses for all the servants who’ve been under my employ.
Mary wondered at my taking so few things on my journey to America, but I simply assured her that the fashions were different there and that I only need a few things for the boat. I will bring back much of my music, but some of it I sent to Jane Holcomb to encourage her playing. I also decided to bring back some of the food given to me by the farmers’ wives, so I can have it for awhile to remember the special flavors of the era.
I do all of this with a heavy heart. I am sad beyond words.
******
Cassandra hurriedly paid the obligatory parting visits, traveling by carriage over the frozen ground to all who would receive her, to say farewell and make her excuses for her sudden departure. She had originally anticipated returning to the portal on January twelfth to make her journey exactly one year, but now didn’t see the point in waiting. She was dejected and the weather was dreary. She decided she would need until the sixth to finish getting ready, and she would leave for London then.
The day before her departure, she was in her bedroom packing up a few last things when she heard a horse’s footsteps approaching the house. She looked out and saw Ben dismounting and walking up to the door. She had left strict instructions with the servants that she did not wish to speak with him if he should decide to try and see her again, so she wasn’t surprised to see him turn and go, after a moment at the door. Cassandra flung herself on the bed and sobbed.
That evening she spent with Mrs. Merriweather. She talked about Ben, trying to make sense of what happened, though not explaining everything. Mrs. Merriweather was practical in her responses, and Cassandra found comfort in them. The housekeeper did express her sorrow at seeing her mistress go, and it was hard for Cassandra to say she would write, knowing that the woman would never receive a letter from her.
Before bed, Mary helped her mistress pack and organize her last few things. The time traveler then went to sleep for the final time at Sorrel Hall.
******
Mary stood at the front doors watching while the coachman loaded Cassandra’s two bags into the carriage. Mr. and Mrs. Merriweather, Anna, William, Thomas, Lydia, and all the other servants had said their goodbyes in the entryway. Anna’s eyes were red, William seemed to be clearing his throat excessively, and Mrs. Merriweather had extracted a handkerchief and was holding it at the ready while her husband busily stuffed tobacco into his pipe without looking up. Cassandra paused in the doorway, clutching her handbag.
“Well, good-bye.” The words caught in her throat. She took a step toward the carriage.
“Ma’am, wait a moment,” said Mary. “I shall see you into the carriage.” She took her mistress’ arm, and they walked out
into the chilly morning air. “I have one thing to ask you before you go, if you do not mind.”
“Yes, Mary. Anything.”
“What is a time traveler?”
Cassandra stopped. She looked at her closely. “Why do you ask me this?”
“Because I heard you call yourself that when Master Franklin was here. Before you go on your journey, I felt I had to ask you, as I may never see you again.”
With a feeling of panic Cassandra recalled the conversation that Mary had overheard in the sitting room the past summer. “Well, it is—” She searched for an explanation. “It is a person who…who travels without thought to time or schedule. A person who is free to come and go without worry about when they arrive or leave, like James himself did when he came here from America.”
“You are going back to find him, is that true?”
“Yes, Mary, I am.”
“And did he change history?”
“Do you know what that means?”
“No, I am afraid not, but I heard you say it.”
Cassandra glanced at the house and the servants gathered in the doorway. She and Mary were at the carriage, and the coachman was waiting to hand her in. She held up a finger to him to wait and he moved away.
“What I meant was that sometimes our own actions change the story of our lives in a way we never anticipated. My coming here, I believe, changed the course of my life, and James’ life was certainly changed.”
The young woman nodded slowly. “I think I understand. For instance, because I know you and how you love to read, I have begun to learn. Anna is teaching me.”
“Oh Mary!” She embraced the startled girl. “That makes me very happy.” She released her after a moment and took a step back.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Mary smiled, her eyes downcast.
“Good-bye.” Tears welled in Cassandra’s eyes.
“Good-bye,” Mary whispered.
Cassandra waved to the household staff, and they waved back, Mrs. Merriweather applying the handkerchief to her eyes.
When a person visits a place, Cassandra thought as she rode away, soaking in every sight, there is always the hope of returning. When a person visits a time, saying good-bye is permanent.
She asked to be taken to the White Hart. There, she was well remembered by Betsy and the rest of the staff. She decided she would wrap up her business in one day. After a night’s rest in her former room, she went to the bank to close her account. The Bank of England was sorry to lose her money, most of which still remained untouched. It would be a blow to the institution, but the handsome fee they extracted for such a large withdrawal softened it somewhat. Getting names and addresses of some of London’s orphanages from Mr. Howard at the bank, she hired a hack chaise to carry her to them, one by one. She divided the sum of her remaining wealth, a little less than three thousand pounds, among five of the neediest.
Her final chore was to visit the office of Ben’s barristers. She paid them to keep an eye on the orphanages and see that they used the money for the direct benefit of the children. She knew that such a charitable action might be changing history, but she hoped it would be for the better. She had considered leaving money in Ben’s bank account to free him from the tyranny of his father, but she decided that to do it could be radically altering history. He had his own decisions to make.
Finally, back at the White Hart, she gathered her bags, and headed down the hotel stairs with them. A young man and woman passed her in the entryway, and Cassandra stopped, recognizing the woman. It was Rosalind Carr, the girl who had been on her way to become a governess, the one Cassandra had met the night she’d eaten in the dining room. Rosalind didn’t notice her —her eyes were only for the man. Cassandra spied a wedding ring flashing on her finger and smiled to herself. That story had ended far better than she had predicted.
She was suddenly startled by the bellman rushing up to her. “Mrs. Franklin! Please let me take your bags!” He moved to grab them from her hands, but she held on firmly.
“No, thank you, Charlie. I am only going a short distance and will handle them myself.”
Charlie looked around helplessly at the desk clerk who was on his feet in a moment. “No! No! Let us order you a carriage, Mrs. Franklin, I insist!”
The doorman went out to whistle for a hack chaise.
“No!” Cassandra screeched. The three men froze in their tracks. She modulated her voice and continued. “I am going only a few blocks to a friend’s house, who will assist me on my way to Portsmouth. I need the walk to clear my head. Please, let me be.”
“If you say so, Mrs. Franklin,” uttered the desk clerk.
“I do. But thank you for your efforts. Good evening.” Cassandra straightened her back, hefted her bags, and marched out the door.
“Good evening, Mrs. Franklin!” called the clerk after her as Charlie shrugged and moved away, and the doorman slunk back in. “Please come again!”
It was around four o’clock; the sky was almost dark, and the fog had set in. She scurried the short distance to the alleyway and peeked around the corner. It thankfully was empty—too cold even for vagrants. She ran to the end of the alley, and in seconds disappeared.
Chapter 20
Before Cassandra could focus her sight on anything, she heard James’ voice.
“Mom!”
The pod door slid open, and he grabbed her in his arms, hugging her tightly. “Oh, Mom, I can’t tell you how glad…I’m so happy! We were so worried—”
Over his shoulder, she saw Nick Stockard standing, wiping tears away and smiling.
Professor Carver’s voice boomed. “Cassie! Oh, Cassie we knew you’d make it!” He was beside her in a moment, stealing her away from James and giving her one of his enveloping hugs. “It’s so good to see you!”
Next it was Jake’s turn, then Shannon’s, and then Simon’s. Most of the team was there to witness her return. Nick hung back, letting her greet her friends. Finally she went to him. They looked at each other for a moment, and then she threw her arms around him and embraced him warmly. “I knew you’d be okay,” he whispered.
“We weren’t sure when you’d be back, Mom, even though the twelfth was the target date. We didn’t even know if you’d be back!”
Cassandra grasped her son’s arm. “I told you nothing would keep me from getting back.”
“I know,” he breathed.
“Actually, we made a pool,” laughed Jake.
“What!”
“Yeah,” he continued, “we made bets on which day and time you’d return, and I won! Or at least I was the closest.”
“I refrained, Cassandra,” remarked Nick good-naturedly.
“As did I, Cassie,” added Professor Carver. “Most un-scientific!” Everyone laughed. “Come, let’s sit you down.”
They all crowded into the lounge area and sat around Cassandra, James closest to her on the small couch.
“Seriously, Cass,” said Shannon. “We were really worried. You could have gone to prison in James’ stead. We were trying not to imagine the worst, but—”
Cassandra quickly related the tale of her performance in the police station and how she managed to disintegrate the music player and divorce herself from any suspicion. She also told how she faked the note from James so that Ben would be convinced of his escape.
“Incredible!” gasped Simon.
“Pretty quick thinking, Cass,” said Jake, “though I have to confess that I did ask Elton’s permission to go back and check on you.”
“Yeah, me too,” added Nick sheepishly.
“But I said no, as I know you would have wanted,” Professor Carver remarked. “We all know the dangers of time travel; we all know what we might be in for when we go, and that we’re responsible for our own safety.”
“I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I also appreciate that you trusted me, Elton.” She squeezed her boss’s hand as they locked eyes.
“You are a brilliant scientist and a resourceful woman, Cas
sie,” he replied. “However, I can’t tell you how relieved we are to have you back with us again.”
“Thank you.” She beamed at her colleagues.
She remained in the lab with the team for several hours. All of the items she carried and her clothes had to be specially sanitized in case they contained any disease or parasite. This was routine. The scientists ran tests on the food she’d brought along to see if it was safe to take out of the lab, while she went into the shower and washed with special cleanser. She put on her own clothes that were waiting for her on this occasion. She was pleased to see they still fit. Then she was required to stand under a high-intensity ray, which further purged her of any ancient biological threats.
No one could leave the lab, now that they’d touched her, until they also stepped under the sanitizer for decontamination. The air in the lab was tested for airborne viruses.
While going through the sanitation process, she left her bags to the mercy of the scientists as they removed everything for scrutiny. When she emerged from the final phase of the process into the lounge area of the lab, James was waiting for her with a peculiar look on his face.
“What?” she asked in alarm.
“I found this in your suitcase,” he said, holding open a small velvet box with the ring from Ben inside.
“How on earth?” she uttered in surprise. “How did it get in there?” Then she remembered that Ben must have met Mary at the front door of Sorrel Hall, and that later that day the girl had been arranging things in her suitcase. He must have given it to her and she slipped it in among Cassandra’s clothes. She smiled to herself.
“I will explain it later,” she said to James, “just keep it safe. There’s something else, you will be interested in seeing.” She went to where her things were scattered about on the examination table and extracted her journal from the pile. The scientists huddled in with anticipation. She opened the journal and carefully removed the letter.
The Time Baroness (The Time Mistress Series) Page 28
