She found no pulse.
“No!” she sobbed, laying her head to his chest, she listened for a heartbeat. None. Had someone poisoned him? Was that why he’d died? Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cried into his chest.
“Come this way.”
Halle jerked up and looked around. Where had that voice come from? Suddenly, the tree grew brighter. She squinted and lifted her hand to shield the light from her eyes. It was as if the bark parted—and in the middle stood a person in silhouette. Halle couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman.
“Come this way,” the voice said again.
Curious, she stood and moved closer. Who could be doing this? But what amazed her more was that her mind had become transfixed. A magnetic tug kept her moving forward until everything around her turned white.
Perhaps she’d died alongside Andrew. After all…she felt no pain, except in her heart over Andrew’s death.
A fog swirled in her mind, making her dizzy. She fought to keep her eyes open, but couldn’t as darkness fell upon her.
Chapter Seven
A fuzzy cloud hung thick in Halle’s head, and yet a bright light shined upon her. It was the sun, more than likely, so then why didn’t she feel more heat to help warm her chilled limbs. Perhaps it was still snowing.
Her head pounded, and she didn’t dare open her eyes for fear the light would make it worse. She tried to let the sounds and smells around her alert her to what was going on. Slowly, tingles of awareness spread through her body, making her feel more alive than she had a few moments ago.
“Come this way.”
There’s that voice again. Yet this time it seemed closer than before when she’d heard it by the tree. And the voice clearly came from a woman.
“There she is, my lord. I found her lying right here.”
Halle still didn’t open her eyes, but soon shadows covered the brightness mere seconds before warm, chubby fingers curled around her arms. Halle breathed in deeply. The scent of freshly baked bread stirred her hungry stomach. The person beside her must have just come from eating—or cooking—bread.
“She does not appear to be hurt.” A man’s voice broke the uncomfortable silence.
There are two of them? Although the pounding in Halle’s head hadn’t subsided, she forced her eyes open. Bright light silhouetted the man and older woman kneeling beside her. Their faces were unrecognizable. Halle squinted and turned her head to escape the light. Groaning, she willed the sharp pain in her head to disappear.
“Miss? I say, are you all right?” the man asked, his voice harsh with authority.
Grass…dewy and slippery, dampened her palms as she tried to sit up. The moisture seeped into her dress as well. What had happened to the snow? She shivered. “I do have a headache, and I’m cold.”
The man leaned closer and sniffed. “Miss, are you foxed?”
She placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him away. Her vision was still slightly blurred and with him so close, it made her dizzy. “No. I haven’t had any alcohol.”
“Can you stand, dearie?” The chubby woman encouraged gently as she tugged on Halle’s arm.
“I think so.” With the help from the two, Halle was soon on her feet. She swayed and fell against the man. He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her steady.
“My lord,” the woman said, “I think we should get her inside by the fire. Do you not agree?”
“I don’t know, Gertie,” the man said warily. “We still have no clue to her identity.”
Halle blinked, trying to keep her eyes open. “Please stop talking as if you don’t know I’m right here listening.” She tugged away from the man. “I’m fine. I just passed out, I guess.”
“You are an American.” The man stated the obvious.
“Well, duh!” Halle focused on his face now that the sun wasn’t obstructing her view. Familiarity pricked at her conscience, yet she couldn’t place a name to him. He must be one of the people in the reenactment, even though it wasn’t anyone that’s she remembered seeing. Yet, if he was, why hadn’t he changed out of his costume? Obviously, it was morning from the way the bright sun lit up the sky, so why is he still wearing his historical-looking duds?
He stood next to her looking as though he’d just returned from riding. He wore a brown, conservatively cut coat and cravat wrapped almost too bulky around his neck. Buckskin breeches encased his legs which were stuffed into black knee boots. He even held on to a riding stick.
The woman looked like a cook; long, white apron pinned to her ankle-length, large, beige dress, and a white mobcap covering the top of her salt and pepper hair wound in a knot at the back of her head. Flour coated a spot on the older woman’s wrinkled cheek. But she wasn’t one of the cooks Halle had talked with the other day.
Halle smiled weakly. “Thanks for your help. I wish I knew what happened to me.”
“You are still weak as a kitten.” The older woman slid her arm around Halle’s waist to assist in helping hold her up.
“I suppose.” Halle looked closer at the woman, but still she felt as if they’d never met before. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but do you work here?”
“Yes, dearie. I have worked for the Duke of Harrington since I was young. My mother also worked for the duke and his father before him.”
What the crap is the woman talking about? Halle shook the fuzziness out of her head again and chuckled. “You’re good at playacting, but why are you still in costume?” She took a peek at the sky again. “It’s morning. You don’t have to act like you did last night.”
The older woman traded glances with the man. Worried lines etched on the cook’s face, and the man’s distrustful expression gave Halle the creeps.
“Pardon me?” the man barked. “You are not speaking rationally. Perhaps you are indeed foxed as I first suspected.”
“I don’t believe so, my lord,” the cook said, shaking her head. “I would have smelled spirits on her breath.” The lady placed a hand to Halle’s forehead. “Hmm…she does feel a little warm. Perhaps she is ill from lying undetected in the cold, damp grass this morning.”
Halle wished they’d stop acting like she wasn’t standing right here with them. “What? I was lying in the…” Finally, her head fully cleared and she remembered what happened. She spun toward the tree—which now looked like any ordinary tree—but Andrew was gone and no snow. “Oh, no.” She gasped. “Where is he?”
“Where is whom, dearie?”
“The…man.”
The man referred to as my lord gasped. “You were lying with a man all night under the tree?”
Halle rolled her eyes, deciding that she really didn’t like this idiot at all. “Of course not. I was trying to help Andrew.”
“Andrew?” Both the cook and my lord idiot responded at the same time.
Halle nodded. “Yes. Andrew…the gardener. You know, Andrew Merrick.”
Wrinkled eyes widened as the older woman’s mouth stretched in a lopsided smile. “Lord Andrew?”
Unease ran amuck through Halle and made her head throb harder. Andrew had only told her about his past. So how did this lady know?
Halle rubbed her forehead. “Well…yes, but…” She pointed to the tree. “He was lying by the tree last night.”
The man groaned. “He’s back? I did not know he had returned.”
“What?” Halle shook her head. “He didn’t go anywhere. He’s been here the whole time.”
“Oh, dear.” The cook wrung her hands. “He wasn’t foxed again, was he?”
Again? For some reason, the image of Andrew being foxed didn’t settle well in Halle’s mind.
“I apologize, dearie,” the cook continued. “Usually the groomsman finds him and takes him back to his room, but since he has not been here for a fortnight, this has come as a complete surprise to us.”
What are they talking about? “Actually, Andrew has been here the whole time I’ve been here,” Halle explained.
The man placed his han
ds on his hips and pierced her with his stare. “Miss, why are you referring to him as Andrew? Are you his mistress?”
“Oh!” Halle wanted to slap his face, but instead lightly swatted his arm. “Take that back! I am not his mistress. Andrew and I only met a few days ago.”
Shock registered on the man’s face as his cheeks turned red. “How dare you strike me!”
“Keep up the insults, my lord, and I’ll do more than that.” Halle glared. They did not want to mess with her this morning. The turmoil and throb in her head would not allow her to be very cheerful right now. And to think Andrew was dead. Should she tell these two? Although she needed to inform someone at the bed and breakfast, she’d find the owner and let him know. But first…she needed to discover what happened to Andrew’s body.
“Um, Miss,” the cook said, tugging on Halle’s arm until she met her stare. “Lord Andrew has not been at his family’s estate for weeks. I fear you have us quite perplexed.”
Family Estate? The throb in Halle’s head grew worse and she rubbed her forehead. I traveled through time—through the tree. Last night the tree had been bright…the trunk had opened for her. Suddenly Andrew’s words returned, nudging her mind. Could she have time-traveled? Nah, she was definitely not thinking correctly, due to her headache. “You know, I’m a little confused right now, myself. Perhaps I hit my head. Let’s just get me back inside the bed and breakfast so I can find my friends. Maybe we can get this straightened out somehow.”
“Bed and breakfast?” My lord idiot snickered. “Miss, I do not know what you are speaking about. I believe you are more ill than we first suspected. I have never heard of anything called a bed and breakfast. Do you not know you are at the Harrington Manor?”
Halle rolled her eyes and let out a tiny snort. Could this man be any more obtuse? “Of course I know this place was the Harrington Manor centuries ago.” She turned around and pointed to the bed and breakfast that had been in back of her. “But clearly you can see…”
The sun shown upon the bed and breakfast known as Buckland Manor, presenting her a view she’d never seen before. No longer did this place resemble the structure she and her friends checked in to several days ago. Instead, the grandeur of the manor took her breath away.
She lifted her hand to her throat, reminding herself to breathe in…breathe out…slowly so as not to hyperventilate. The three-level home appeared to have received a historic facelift overnight. The doors and windows were different, but the yard and garden appeared the same.
“This can’t be right…” Halle pulled away from the woman and hurried toward the front door. As she studied the knob and the carvings in the wood, realization hit her like a brick to the head. This wasn’t just a replica of a Victorian door. This was a Victorian door!
The door swung open, and she jumped back, suddenly fearful of everything around her. When the older man met her eyes, surprise registered on his face. “Pardon me for surprising you, Miss.” His gaze moved behind her to the others. “Edward, I did not know we had a visitor so early this morning.”
“Well, you see, my lord, we found her—” Gertie began.
“It’s you,” Halle said in a rush, recalling the portrait of the Duke of Harrington inside the Bed and Breakfast.
“Pardon me?”
“You are…the Duke of Harrington, right?”
“Yes.”
Not believing any of this…knowing that whatever happened to her last night had left her in an unrealistic state of mind, she chuckled. Yet this man before her looked nothing like the man who portrayed the duke last night during the reenactment. Instead, he looked exactly like the portrait she’d seen that hung in the great hall.
“Father, Gertrude found her by the tree…unconscious.”
Father? Halle studied my lord idiot closely. Oh good heavens! This was Edward, Andrew’s elder brother.
“Unconscious?” The duke gasped. “We need to get you inside by the fire before you catch your death.”
“But Father.” Edward stepped in front of Halle. “She was by the tree.”
Suddenly, the worried lines that had carved the duke’s forehead a moment ago were replaced with suspicion. His blue eyes held a glimmer of distrust. He grasped her hands, peering curiously at her fingers. “Miss, what were you doing by the tree?”
“I wish I knew.” She narrowed her gaze on him and pulled her hands away.
This cannot be real. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. I’m dreaming… Yes, that must be it. Slowly, she opened her eyes again, but the three were still looking at her as if she’d grown two heads. This is ridiculous! For some reason she hadn’t awakened from this strange dream. She pinched herself and winced. Okay, so she was awake. She glanced at Edward before reaching over and pinching his arm.
“Ouch!” He rubbed the spot. “I say, what is the meaning of this?”
“Oh, dear,” she moaned and massaged her forehead. This was real for heaven’s sake!
“What is your name, Miss?” Edward asked.
“Halle Chapman.” A small breeze stirred her hair and she shivered.
His eyes narrowed and even his top lip rose in a sneer. “Halle? What kind of name is that?”
Never had she wanted to punch a man in the face until this very moment. “It’s a name my mother chose for me, my lord. And, I must say, I think the name fits me well.”
He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m certain it does, Miss Chapman.”
“My lord,” the cook said to the duke, “she is cold. If she stays out here any longer, she will catch her death.”
“Catch my death…” Halle muttered with a chuckle. Yet just as she said it, she knew she’d certainly catch cold if she didn’t get out of these damp clothes. Glancing down, she looked at the once-lovely gown Andrew had found for her. It was ruined now. Hopefully a good wash and iron would make it pretty again. But regardless of her pathetic appearance, she had to be dreaming everything. Nothing made any sense right now.
“Quite right, Gertrude. Bring Miss Chapman inside, and we shall sit her by the fire.”
The duke led the way toward the nearest room—that looked to be what the Victorian era people referred to as the sitting room. Edward kept beside his father, speaking in whispers. Of course they were not going to trust her. She wouldn’t have been as generous if the roles were reversed.
Halle took in the fine luxuries of a place she’d never seen before. It didn’t matter if she and her friends had been here for almost a week, what she witnessed right now had not been in the Bed and Breakfast when she arrived.
“Miss Chapman,” Edward finally spoke loudly as he looked at her. “Why are you here? And pray, please tell us why you were unconscious by the tree.”
Why was she here? We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto. The question was when was she? If Andrew had come through the tree which he proclaimed happened, what’s saying she didn’t do the same and returned to his time? As ridiculous as it seemed, she couldn’t think of anything else that would explain all this.
The cook sat Halle near the hearth as the duke handed her an afghan. Another servant rushed in—probably the butler—and threw another log on the fire as Edward briefly related what had happened so far. The wood snapped and popped as flames grew higher. Heat gradually touched her and smoothed away the chill.
Was she really in a dream…or had she gone back in time? As she gazed around the room and studied the furniture, she could tell these pieces were not anything like what Buckland Manor had. Not even close. If she really was in 1848, how could she make these people trust her and allow her to stay with them? Obviously, they were still alive which meant their home hadn’t been attacked yet. But how long before that happened? And could she warn the family and prevent them from being killed?
Impossible! She couldn’t alter the timeline…or could she?
Pulling out of her deep thoughts, she heard Gertrude whispering something to the duke. He frowned as he stared at Halle, but his concerned expression let her know he would
not throw her out.
Yet.
She groaned and rubbed her forehead. “Forgive me, my lord, I…I wish I knew why I had passed…um, why I had swooned earlier. Perhaps it was lack of nourishment.”
“Where are you from?” the duke asked as he sat in a nearby chair.
“I was from America until my parents died, and then I came to live with my cousin and her husband in England.”
Andrew’s father arched an eyebrow. The gleam in his stare still held distrust. “Who is your cousin?”
Quickly…think of something! She scrambled for surnames she knew from the Regency and Victorian eras. “My cousin is Samantha, and her husband is Colin…er…Firth. Mr. and Mrs. Firth.”
He shook his head. “I do not know them. Do they live around here?”
“No. They live near Bristol.”
“Then why were you traveling to Harrington Manor?”
Think, Halle… What story could she possibly tell them that they would believe? Whatever she told them, they needed to know about the approaching danger…without telling them how she really knew. “Oh, Your Grace, it was just awful.” Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead as she began her tall-tale. “Last evening I was attending a ball with my cousin and her husband.” She took another look at Andrew’s father. “I had stepped outside to take in the fresh air when I overheard a conversation between two men.”
Trying to make her performance worthy of an Academy Award, she clutched her hands and displayed a look of fright as she continued. “I could not see their faces at first, but as I listened, I realized they were discussing getting a bunch of men together to attack a family’s home.”
Gertie gasped. The duke and Edward exchanged glances of disbelief before the duke rested his eyes back on her.
“Although I have never met your family, Your Grace,” Halle paused, licking her dry lips, “I have heard about your family and know how respected you are. So when these men said they wanted to attack your home, I knew I must do something to stop them.”
The duke’s expression hardened. Edward stepped closer to his father.
“Then what happened?” Edward urged.
Love Lost in Time (Victorian Time-Travel) Page 9
