Toil And Trouble, A Paranormal Romance (Jolie Wilkins)

by H. P. Mallory

  “She located it herself, using her palm to open the passage,” he answered in a flustered tone.

  Mathilda’s body suddenly glowed with blue light and I realized she was protecting herself. “I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else. I’m here because I need your help and Rand’s,” I said, attempting to get around Rand but he side-stepped me and grabbed hold of my arm.

  “She should not be here,” Mathilda said in a scolding tone.

  And that was enough for Rand to turn around and push me away from the door, his anger billowing out of him as his aura raged purple.

  “Wait, Mathilda!” I screamed, desperate to get them to understand.

  Mathilda said nothing but her lips were drawn tight. She didn’t trust me either—son of a … As Rand grabbed me, set on getting rid of me, an intense heat broke out on the V of my neck, a sting like an insect bite. I grasped the amber amulet Mathilda had given me. Of course! Now it made total sense as to why the Mathilda of my time had entrusted it to me.

  “Wait!” I screamed again and yanked the pendant from my neck, breaking the chain as I held it up in the air. “I have your amber amulet.”

  Mathilda’s gaze fell on the object in my hand and her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. “Rand,” she said in a constricted voice and he released me. I glared back at him and edged closer to her, holding the amulet out as if to remind her not to turn on me again. When I was right in front of her, she opened her palm and I dropped the amber into it.

  “How did you get this?” she demanded.

  “You gave it to me when I was in my own time because you had seen me with it in a vision. You told me to carry it with me into battle.”

  “Battle?” she repeated.

  Rand shoved his way between us, still playing protector. “Mathilda, what is it?”

  She faced him. “It is my amber pendant given to me centuries ago by the only … man I ever loved. It is the only object I possess which means anything to me.”

  Wow, the modern Mathilda had loved a man? Hmm, sounded like a chapter for another day, not a stressed out, I-need-to-get-back-to-my-own-time day. Mathilda continued staring at the pendant until something made her withdraw into her house. Hurrying into her kitchen to open a drawer, she searched for the amulet and when she came up empty-handed, she had to face the fact that I was who I said I was.

  “Come in,” she said with a gentle, apologetic smile and held the door wide.

  Rand’s perturbation was evident as he ran his hand through his hair and stood in the doorway, watching me settle myself at Mathilda’s tree stump table. “How do we know she is who she says she is? Amber is plentiful.”

  “No,” Mathilda shook her head. “Not this one.” She glanced down at the pendant in her palm and closed her fingers over it. “This belongs to me.”

  Rand shut the door behind him and though Mathilda took a seat at the table next to me, he remained standing. Mathilda smiled and reached her hand out to grasp mine. “You said you are called Jolie?”

  “Yes,” I nodded.

  “Tell me about this battle,” she began.

  And I told her about the battle, about Bella, about nearly being impaled by Gwynn’s blade and ending up freezing in the snow, in 1878. Pretty soon that recollection necessitated others and after two hours, I’d told Mathilda and Rand my entire life story, starting from the moment Rand had walked into my tarot-reading shop and changed my life forever.

  As I explained, Rand’s face didn’t change. He maintained a placid, poker faced expression that prevented me from reading his emotions. And I still couldn’t tell whether or not he believed me. But at least one thing was clear, and that was Mathilda did believe me, which was a huge relief. If I could win over Mathilda, I could win over Rand. Of that I was convinced.

  “So that brings me to where we are today,” I finished. “Mercedes told me I must find two people who knew me in my own time and who know me in this one and those two are you and Rand.”

  “Ms. Berg is a witch?” Rand scoffed as Mathilda stood up and entered her kitchen, reaching into a cupboard and taking out three clay cups. Her hand hovered over each cup and in response steam rose up from each one. She brought them to the table, offering one to Rand and me. I inhaled what smelled like chamomile tea and took a sip, relishing the heat of the liquid as it warmed me from the inside out. Then I turned to respond to Rand regarding Mercedes. I was really getting sick of him and his inability to believe anything I said.

  “Yes, she is,” I said simply.

  “Not only is the prophetess real but she lives in Pelham Manor, as an unassuming housekeeper,” Rand asked with a great show of sarcasm.

  Tears welled in my eyes as I faced Mathilda. “Why won’t he believe me?”

  Rand pounded his fists on the table, anger burning in his eyes. “Because nothing you have said can be proven. Yes, you know about Mathilda and yes, I believe you to be a witch, but that is not to say you do not have evil intentions, that you are not here for reasons you have failed to reveal.”

  “But my amulet,” Mathilda started.

  “She could have stolen it from you, Mathilda,” Rand said while I swallowed hard. “Nothing she has said can be tested, none of it can be proven. Are we to endow her with our blind faith?”

  “It’s true,” I demanded and stood up, approaching him. “It’s all true but you are so freaking stubborn, you refuse to see it.”

  He took the two steps between us until we were only an inch’s width away. “I do not trust so blindly.”

  “Children,” Mathilda said, rising as she pulled Rand’s arm, forcing him away from me. “This situation is easily resolved.”

  “How so?” Rand demanded, never taking his eyes from mine.

  “By way of magic,” Mathilda answered.

  “Can you perform a Liar’s Circle on me?” I asked. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? Rand tended to make my sense of logic and reason dissolve into heated anger or intense lust.

  “I can do one better than that,” Mathilda said with a smile before facing Rand again. “Rand, if you consent, I will cast a charm on you that will not only prove if our mysterious guest is telling the truth, but it will also allow you to feel the emotions you possess toward her in her own day.”

  “I do not understand,” Rand started.

  I couldn’t say I fully grasped the concept either, but thought we should give it a shot. What other choice did I have? “You mean you can make this Rand know me in the same way my Rand of my time knows me?”

  Mathilda shook her head. “No. Magic will only allow me to enable Rand to feel the emotions that the Rand of your day feels towards you. He will not have the memories associated with those feelings but he will have the feelings all the same. If the Rand of your time did not trust you, those feelings will be passed to Rand now.”

  “I will feel the emotions of myself in the future?” Rand asked.

  “Yes,” Mathilda responded.

  “I do not see how that will prove whether …” he started.

  “If she is telling a falsehood and you do not know her in the future, you will realize that based on your feelings towards her. You will not have any. Similarly, if she wronged you in the future, you will know it based on your emotions towards her now. And if she is telling the truth, you will know that as well.”

  “Why can’t you just recreate his memories?” I asked.

  Mathilda shook her head. “That is beyond the scope of my magic, child.”

  Okay, well this was second best. If we could instill within Rand his feelings towards me, it would make this a hell of a lot easier. More than anything, I needed him to trust me and it sounded like this charm would do exactly that.

  “I’m game,” I said and faced Rand who was studying me with a strange expression.

  “Rand?” Mathilda started.

  “Very well,” he said indifferently.

  “Please have a seat,” Mathilda said and we both watched him try to accommodate his large body into the small cha
ir. I stifled a smile as Mathilda sat down next to him and took up one of his large hands in her own. “Jolie, please take his other hand.”

  Rand refused to look at me but I didn’t care. I sat down on the other side of him and picked up his hand. There was no shock of electricity coursing through me, something I’d become accustomed to every time Rand touched me. Maybe he was too young a witch to have mastered the energy exchange. I watched Mathilda close her eyes.

  “Do I need to do anything?” I asked.

  Mathilda shook her head. “No, stay connected with your hands so we can establish the link between you both. I will handle the rest.”

  I just nodded and glanced around the room while Mathilda chanted something undecipherable, her mouth twitching with the effort. I brought my attention back to Rand and found he’d been staring at me all along. And when I faced him, he made no motion to drop his gaze, but just studied me intently. I lost the stare down and felt as if I couldn’t bring my eyes back to his, afraid I’d wither underneath his stringent gaze.

  Suddenly Rand’s grip tightened and I looked up to find his eyes fastened tightly shut. He was trembling and I had to hold onto his hand with both of mine to ensure he didn’t pull away. I glanced at Mathilda and noticed she was doing the same thing, holding his other hand in both of hers as she recited the chant.

  I didn’t want to say anything, afraid I’d break Mathilda’s concentration, but Rand was shaking so much, it seemed like he was having a convulsion. His eyes remained shut tight and his face was bereft of emotion. It was like he was undergoing a shock from the outside in. Then, before I could think another thought, Mathilda opened her eyes and dropped his hand.

  “It is done.”

  I glanced at Rand and noticed he’d stopped shaking but his eyes were still clamped shut and he appeared to be sleeping. I dropped his hand and glanced at Mathilda. “Is he okay?”

  She nodded. “Awake, Rand.”

  He opened his eyes and studied Mathilda for a moment or two, confusion in his gaze. Then his eyes moved to mine. “Jolie?”

  I smiled and felt the hot sting of tears in my eyes. “Yes, Rand, yes it’s me. Do you remember me?”

  “He won’t remember you,” Mathilda said. “It is all emotions he is feeling towards you.”

  He stood up suddenly and grabbed his head as if it were throbbing, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “Rand,” I started and stood.

  He shook his head and moved away in the opposite direction, leaning against the door as his chest heaved with his exaggerated breathing. He reached for the doorknob and turned it, without glancing back at either of us. “I … I must leave.”

  I started after him but Mathilda grabbed my hand. “Let him go,” she warned.

  “But …” I started, feeling my stomach sink as Rand disappeared out the door and the frozen darkness chilled Mathilda’s house. It hadn’t worked! Tears began in my eyes as I swallowed my frustration.

  “He is confused and needs to be alone to understand what has happened to him, child,” Mathilda said. “He is overcome with emotions he does not understand.”

  “Then the spell worked?” I asked as I wiped my tears away. Suddenly, it occurred to me that maybe Mathilda still didn’t trust me. I mean, it didn’t appear that Rand’s feelings towards me were good ones.

  “I would say it did.”

  “And do you believe me?” I asked. Mathilda merely nodded with a sweet smile. Well, at least I had Mathilda on my side, even if Rand hated me just as much as he had.

  ~

  In his usual form, Rand disappeared for the whole of the next day and I was left not knowing what to think. Had Mathilda’s charm worked? She certainly thought it had. But if it had, what feelings did Rand harbor towards me now? I mean, his actions didn’t seem like those of someone who had amorous feelings for me in any way. Hmm, so what did that mean regarding modern Rand’s feelings for me? It was a question I didn’t want to answer.

  “Jolie?” It was Christine’s voice, accompanied by a timid knock on the door. I sighed and pulling it open, pasted on a fake smile.

  “You will be late for dinner,” she started, smiling shyly. “And we have company.”

  “Company?” I repeated, following her.

  “Yes, the Furvishes have come to dine with us.”

  I remembered the name Furvish from the harvest festival Christine had told me about when she’d first met Sinjin. At the thought of Sinjin, a deep hollow feeling engulfed me, as if my stomach were as empty as a dry old well. I suddenly felt dizzy and had to catch my balance against the banister.

  “Are you alright?” Christine asked and reached out, as if to prevent me from fainting.

  I nodded and closed my eyes to dam the surge of tears that were just waiting to escape. I would get back home. I had to get back home. Once I’d regained control of myself, I opened my eyes, giving Christine an apologetic smile and we started down the stairs. Christine reached for my hand and held it tightly in her own as we entered the drawing room.

  I first saw Pelham sitting on a settee, conversing with an older woman beside him. Rand leaned against the fireplace mantel, resplendent in dark brown breeches, a matching waistcoat, and shiny, knee-high black boots. I felt my stomach start to ache. I loved this man, whether in my own time or now. I loved him and yet it appeared as though he still didn’t know me. And as if that weren’t awful enough, he was smiling warmly at a young, beautiful woman which gave me cause to throw up.

  Her black hair was arranged into a heap of perfect ringlets, complementing her long, graceful neck and piercing blue eyes. Upon our entrance, she looked up at us indifferently. I noticed Rand feigning extreme interest in the crackling fire. The woman’s eyes darted from Christine to me as she looked me up and down, as if trying to detect my social status. She smiled so maliciously, she might as well have stabbed me.

  I returned the smile, taking in her white billowing skirts and bodice, trimmed with baby pink lace and bows until it looked like a cupcake complete with white frosting and pink sprinkles was in the process of swallowing her whole.

  “Miss Wilkins,” Pelham announced without rising. Hmm, he was getting sicker. I wanted to help him, to heal him, but I knew deep down that I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t my decision to make.

  “Mr. Pelham,” I said with a smile as Christine accompanied me into the room.

  “It is my pleasure to introduce to you Mrs. Furvish,” Pelham continued while the older lady offered me the same rotten smile her daughter had.

  “I understand Mr. Pelham found you in the snow?” she asked, her nasal tone as frosty as the falling snow outside. Her dull grey hair was pulled into such a tightly strained bun, she appeared to have a receding hairline. Her eyes were the same shade of dull steel and too close together. With her hooked nose and beady eyes, she looked like an eagle. It was impossible to see what her figure was like considering the layers of garments she wore compared to those of her daughter. The only difference was her choice of colors: lilac and baby blue.

  “Yes,” I said, smiling broadly and amused by the fact that I’d figured out this charade in less than five seconds. Mrs. Furvish was desperate to see her daughter wed and both she and her daughter had their eyes on Rand. And as for Rand? Hmm, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking … as usual.

  “This is my daughter, Victoria,” Mrs. Furvish interjected and the pink and white cupcake offered me an insincere curtsey, to which I offered another apathetic smile.

  “Dinner is served,” one of the Georges announced, so formal and stiff it was as if he were walking on stilts.

  Rand approached Pelham, offering his arm and not even glancing in my direction. Apparently, the task of convincing him I was a witch was going to be even more difficult than I’d imagined. I followed the others into the dining room and wasn’t surprised to see Victoria seat herself beside Rand while her mother occupied the chair on his other side. Pelham sat at the head of the table and Christine and I sat opposite Rand and the Furvish doilie
s.

  George ~1 (I believe) entered the dining room carrying a silver-domed tray and laid it on the table, proclaiming, “For your first course: potato croquettes, pigeons a la Duchesse, French beans, and claret.”

  Thank God animal heads weren’t on the menu. I watched the Georges fuss and fidget around the table, while Victoria Cupcake fingered her ringlets, cocking her head in completely unnatural angles, and laughed a high-pitched ringing sound. It was a wonder she wasn’t summoning all the dogs in the area.

  And Rand? Hmm, I still couldn’t read him. Despite his smile and amity, he didn’t seem smitten, and he certainly didn’t eye drool all over Victoria the way she did over him. Course, in 1878 he was a completely different person so who knew what he was really thinking.

  “Please do tell us more about your mysterious guest, Mr. Balfour,” Victoria started, smiling up at Rand before glancing at me, her expression souring as if she’d just gotten a whiff of vomit.

  Rand’s eyes met mine but he didn’t say anything.

  “Our guest is an American,” Pelham interrupted.

  “From California,” Christine chimed in with a pretty smile as she caught my eye. I downed my glass of claret, not concerned with propriety and smiled broadly at Victoria.

  “Yes.”

  Victoria seemed perplexed. “And how did you manage to wind up in the snow out here of all places?”

  I tilted my head, trying to mirror the ridiculous angle of hers. “I don’t know.”

  She frowned. “You leave us at a disadvantage, miss.”

  George refilled my claret.

  “I guess I don’t have much to say,” I offered.

  Mother Cupcake glanced at Pelham, her eyebrows drawn into a tight knot in the middle of her forehead. “I imagine our generous host was quite surprised to find a Colonist on the grounds?”

  I nearly choked on my claret. “A Colonist?” I laughed. “Really?”

  The old woman said nothing as she frowned at me. Her squinty eyes narrowed even more until she looked like she didn’t have any eyes at all. Christine thumped my thigh underneath the table but I could detect a smile forming at the corners of her mouth.