by Lauren James
“I don’t care! I can – I can dress as a boy! People do it all the time! At the very least I could try to help.”
“What people? Besides, your aunt would never allow it.”
“I don’t care what my aunt thinks,” Katherine said resolutely. “She isn’t in control of my life. I can hide it from her. I can tell her I’m preparing my grandmother’s house to be sold.”
That part at least was true, and it did afford the perfect excuse. Katherine could work at the castle without anyone knowing about it.
Matthew seemed to be deciding whether he wanted to argue further, or just accept his fate now and save the yelling. She leant more heavily against the seat where their shoulders were pressed together and lowered her voice. “Please, Matthew. I think it’s so brave of you, volunteering to help. I want to join you.”
His eyes flickered across her face in indecision. She licked her bottom lip in genuine anxiety, but when his gaze dropped she knew she had him.
“This is a senseless idea,” he eventually muttered, mouth pinched. “This is going to end so badly.”
She exhaled in relief. “But you’ll help?”
He let out a long-suffering sigh and nodded. “I will. We are going to have to be really careful.”
“It’ll be fine,” she said eagerly, ignoring his pessimism. He stared at her, silently conveying all his doubts at her breezy conviction. She rolled her eyes. “I promise I shall be careful and do everything you say, or else you can do something bad to me as punishment.”
“A threat isn’t at all menacing when it’s as vague as that, but, yes, I will do something really scary if you behave like a fool.”
“Well, look on the bright side. If it ends badly, you can tell everyone much you hated the whole experience.”
He snorted. “Yes,” he said dryly. “It will go down in history as the gospel truth on ‘Why Not to Trust Katherine Finchley Ever, Under Any Circumstances’.”
She laughed giddily, falling into a boneless sprawl against his arm, already wondering how she could convince Matthew to lend her some of his clothes. He nudged her shoulder with his own and smiled down at her. She held his gaze, feeling the buzz of it under her skin until he had to look back to the road.
“So,” she asked after a contented silence, “may I borrow a shirt? Maybe a pair of trousers?”
“Hmm,” he said. “I think my clothes would overwhelm you.”
She sat upright and stretched out her arms alongside his to measure the difference. Her fingertips reached the base of his thumb. As the carriage hit a bump in the road, she fell against him again. He was warm in the cold night air. A shiver ran down her spine.
“I think your clothes will fit me just fine,” she murmured. Her voice sounded huskier than she’d ever heard it.
They stayed pressed together without acknowledging the touch until the carriage pulled into the drive. When he helped her down, she balanced a hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly enough to feel his muscles flex under his cotton shirt as he supported her. He brushed a curl of hair away from her eyes, the tips of his fingers rubbing against her cheek, and she shivered.
“I’ll give some clothes to Anise,” he said in a low tone. “Meet me by the stables tomorrow morning around nine.”
She cleared her throat, nodded. After a pause, he stepped back. She walked to the front door and then turned back towards him.
“Matthew… Thank you.” She said it wholeheartedly.
He gave her a lopsided smile. “It’s my pleasure.”
He said it so sincerely that it brought a faint blush to her cheeks and she suddenly couldn’t meet his eye.
> Progress in time-landscape 1745 following desired schedule
> Previously reported mistrust between subjects may work to the advantage of the program
It wasn’t until Katherine was safely in her room and drinking warm tea that the giddy head rush wore off, and she started to panic. What was she doing? She was, well, flirting was the only way to describe it. She was flirting with a servant, getting close to him to test his loyalties to the Crown. She was planning to lie to her aunt and spend the day with him, dressed in his clothing. What was she doing? If anyone found out she would be ruined. Her grandmother would be appalled.
Katherine shuddered as she pressed her hands against her temples. Then she thought of the conversation between Matthew and Anise. They were planning something, something that could help the Rebels invade the city. She couldn’t let that happen. She was going to do this for her city, for her family. She was going to do this for England. And if there was a part of her that remembered the warmth of Matthew’s skin against hers, she ignored it.
CHAPTER 5
KitKat 12:47:04
Hey Matthew
KitKat 12:49:39
Matthew
KitKat 13:05:52
Matthew?
Gallows Humour 13:07:43
Katherine, I can’t talk rn.
KitKat 13:08:01
:(
Gallows Humour 13:09:10
All right, what’s up?
KitKat 13:09:36
!! What’s your favourite hobby: dancing in the woods, singing, collecting things, talking to small animals, or baking?
Gallows Humour 13:10:33
………… what
KitKat 13:10:55
I was just, you know, wondering. What would you say the answer was?
Gallows Humour 13:11:30
I don’t understand what’s happening right now
KitKat 13:12:08
Just a wife who wants to know more about the man she loves, babycakes. Is that such a bad thing? I’m sure there are things you don’t know about me.
KitKat 13:12:53
Like did you know that until today I’d never tried Pimms?
Gallows Humour 13:13:37
Are you drunk?
KitKat 13:14:10
Um. No? Well, they were giving out free samples at the supermarket when I went to get lunch and I got a little over eager.
Gallows Humour 13:14:59
Please say you’re at home, and not scandalizing the doctorates in the lunchroom.
KitKat 13:15:48
……
Gallows Humour 13:17:12
Katherine?
KitKat 13:18:22
I’m, er, not in the lunchroom. Any more.
KitKat 13:18:45
Who would your ideal prince be? Your childhood friend, Prince Charming or a strong warrior?
Gallows Humour 13:19:10
I don’t want to know which Disney Princess I am. I’ve told you before, stop doing online quizzes. Leave it.
Gallows Humour 13:22:19
He would love me for myself.
KitKat 13:22:57
Tell me about your dress.
Folios/v7/Time-landscape-2019/MS-133
UNIVERSITY OF NOTTINGHAM CAMPUS, ENGLAND, 2039
Kate felt almost sick with nerves as she waited for Matt to arrive for their next lab session. She couldn’t believe that it had only been a few days since they’d met. She felt like her whole world had changed since then. It felt like a lifetime ago.
She hadn’t slept well since her grandparents had told her about her aunt, and even when talking to her friends she hadn’t been able to concentrate on any of their first-year gossip. She kept having odd dreams about the Galloways, but they were never in the right place. They were always too far back in history, dressed in old-fashioned clothing.
Matt arrived while Kate was arranging their incubated Petri dishes. He struggled out of a black waistcoat and into his crumpled lab coat. Kate took the opportunity to admire the tight fit of his jeans. When he spun round to face her, she jerked her gaze up guiltily.
“Morning!” he said cheerfully. He ran a hand through his hair. It stuck up straight for a moment and then collapsed in on itself, pointing in all directions.
“Hi,” she mumbled. How was she going to bring the subject up? Could she just ask whether he happened to ha
ve any terrorists in his family? She settled on, “I need to talk to you later.”
“Sure,” he said, surprised. “We can go and get coffee, if you want?” He grinned at her, and then his smile faded. “Hey, are you OK?”
“Uh. Not really.”
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed, looking around the lab. She really didn’t want to do this here. Everyone else was working quietly. By the looks of things, most of her lab group were hungover.
“Kate?”
She swallowed. “Is there anyone else in your family called Matthew?” The words came out uncertain, a little hesitant.
He stared down at his lab book. “Oh.”
“You know, then?”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I recognized you. Obviously. You look just like her. But you didn’t seem to recognize me. I didn’t want to mention it in case you didn’t know.” Matt leant in close, voice pitched low. His eyes were clear, earnest. “Do you believe they did it?”
Kate lowered her voice too. “No.” She fished in her bag for a few sheets of paper among the bundle of photographs and documents that her grandparents had let her borrow. It was a jokey PowerPoint presentation that her aunt had written for her uncle. “Look at this. I found it in some papers my grandparents gave me. Do you really think a terrorist could have written it?”
Folios/v7/Time-landscape-2018/MS-32
“Don’t you think she’s funny?” Kate asked, grinning, as Matt finished reading it.
“I guess,” Matt admitted. He tilted his head, staring at the pie chart with a look of bemusement. There was a nick on his neck where he’d cut himself shaving. “She’s got a very … distinctive sense of humour.”
Kate felt a little offended on Katherine’s behalf. “I think she’s hilarious.”
Matt was still staring at the paper. “Kate,” he said, slow and thoughtful. “Do your grandparents have any more of this kind of stuff?”
“I dunno. Why?”
“Because it might have the answer.”
Kate was surprised by the excitement in his voice. “What? How?”
“If they have any of Katherine and Matthew’s research, like their lab books or something, it might help to prove that they weren’t making a weapon – that they were just doing their jobs.”
“That’s true! We can go and visit them after labs if you want. You really think Katherine and Matthew might be innocent?”
He nodded. “Ever since I found out about my uncle and your aunt, I’ve thought it wasn’t right. My parents don’t want me to get involved. They think I should just leave it alone, but I can’t.” He folded his arms and then unfolded them. “Actually … that’s why I’m here.”
“What?”
“I applied to Nottingham Uni so I could get into England. I wanted an opportunity to visit the lab they worked at, to see if I could find any evidence to prove that they didn’t do it. It’s the whole reason I’m here.”
“Wow,” Kate said. “I only came here because a girl at a careers fair told me they did good field trips. But I do want to prove that Katherine and Matthew are innocent. Will it be dangerous?”
Matt didn’t reply, but Kate knew the answer. This wasn’t going to end well. They stared at each other, like rabbits caught in the same headlights.
Strait of Gibraltar, 1854
They were a week into their journey and Matthew had already started interviewing soldiers for his first article. He was planning to post it to The Times as soon as they landed at Varna, Bulgaria, in a fortnight. He flashed a charming smile at one of the officers supervising the cooking of dinner in the kitchens, dimples appearing in his cheeks.
“Sergeant Woodward, may I introduce myself?”
Katy’s heart sank. Matthew was in journalist-mode and he was annoyingly efficient. He sounded experienced and responsible. He would definitely be able to pick up on anything Katy did to try and influence him to change his articles.
The sergeant looked at the two of them with mild interest. He pulled a fat cigar from his mouth and nodded.
“I’m Matthew Galloway, war correspondent for The Times. Lord Raglan may have mentioned that I was accompanying this regiment?”
Katy was suddenly alert. Lord Raglan was her employer, Lord Somerset. Raglan was what he was called by the general public. That must be why Matthew hadn’t been suspicious of Katy’s reference. He only knew the famous army general as Lord Raglan. If he found out who Lord Somerset really was, he might guess that Katy was spying on him. She winced.
The officer chewed on the end of his cigar thoughtfully, before replying, “I do recall my superior mentioning something to that effect. Frightfully odd business. What if the Russians got hold of your dispatches and discovered our tactics?”
Matthew gave a nervous laugh that failed to convince either Katy, or the sergeant, judging by his expression.
“Anything I send will be long out of date when it reaches the Russians,” Matthew said. “I will make sure there are no breaches in security. That would do more harm than good, and I intend to do good here.”
“What do you mean ‘good’? How can a journalist help the war effort?” the sergeant asked.
“I’m dedicated to providing Britain with the most accurate account of the war that I can, Sir,” Matthew responded. “I believe that a regular supply of news straight from our loyal and valiant army will encourage people at home to support the war effort.”
The sergeant, cheeks red from the clouds of steam in the kitchen, looked pleased at this compliment to his regiment. “So how might I be of service, Sir?” he asked.
Matthew pulled out his notebook. “I understand that you have already visited the army encampment at Varna, when you accompanied another regiment there. May I ask you a few questions about your experiences at the front so far?”
The sergeant nodded, and Matthew asked him some basic questions about the army’s conditions. He interrupted a monologue on the officers’ misuse of their revolvers to ask, “Were there any problems with the administration of the army?”
“Last time I was there, there weren’t enough interpreters,” the sergeant said. “You could never understand a goddamn thing the locals were saying. Of course, there was the usual lack of mechanics, wheelwrights, and the like – but that’s only to be expected during a war when the demand for repairs is so much higher.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
“Well…” He looked unsure, but said, “There wasn’t enough forage for the horses. Some of them became very colicky – it was terrible. I dread to think what condition they’re in now.”
Katy wondered, not for the first time, whether what Matthew was doing – reporting on the everyday lives of the men at the front – wasn’t such a bad thing. People at home should know what was happening, especially if a lack of supplies had an impact on the war.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Matthew asked as they made their way back onto deck. “Is anything the matter?”
A familiar feeling of guilt rose in her throat. She watched a seagull spiral overhead before asking carefully, “Are you going to put everything he said into your article?”
“Of course,” he replied easily. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t think it would help anything. I mean, his complaints weren’t really important. No one is going to care about bad tobacco, are they?”
“Maybe not – but they will care that the horses are being kept in bad conditions.”
“I just think it’s a bad idea to report on something which you haven’t seen for yourself,” she replied. “He could have it all wrong. Why don’t you wait until we arrive in Varna and are able to see if he was right?”
Matthew agreed with her idea, and Katy tried, unsuccessfully, not to feel guilty. Her loyalty to Lord Somerset, her employer, had to be her first priority.
Carlisle, England, 1745
It was the morning after her conversation with Matthew abo
ut volunteering at the castle. Katherine was brushing her hair when Anise knocked quietly on her door and entered her bedroom. She was carrying a wrapped package, tied with twine.
“You asked for this, Miss,” the maid said.
“Oh! Yes, thank you.” It was the clothes from Matthew. She took the package, noticing that he’d tucked a pheasant feather into the knot of the binding. She clutched it tightly.
“Will there be anything else?” Anise asked. She spoke quietly, almost under her breath. Katherine would never have guessed that she was a Rebel if she hadn’t overheard her conversation with Matthew the other day. She seemed so shy and restrained now. She had been completely different when talking to Matthew.
“Have you had any news of the Jacobites?” Katherine asked. She had to see if she could find out anything from this girl. She might be able to get an idea of their plans.
Anise didn’t answer for several seconds, and then finally said quietly, “I haven’t, no.”
Katherine cast about for something else to say. “What – what do you think of the rebellion? Do you think it has any chance of success?”
Anise shot her an odd look. “I don’t really know much about it, Miss.”
“Oh, really? I thought I heard you discussing it with the coachman.” The minute she’d finished speaking she realized it had been the wrong thing to say.
Anise blinked at her. “Excuse me, Miss.” She turned and left the room without a backward glance, or even a curtsy.
Well, that hadn’t worked out at all.
After unwrapping the package, Katherine quickly pulled Matthew’s shirt on. It was freshly laundered, but it still smelt of him. It was slightly too large around the shoulders, but the trousers fitted almost too well – they were very snug. Next she pulled on the waistcoat. The simple act of dressing in men’s clothing felt naughtier than she’d expected. It felt almost delightfully illicit.
