A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3)

by Irina Shapiro

  Chapter 7

  Louisa watched from the window as Alec and Valerie left the house and headed toward the woods. She couldn’t bear to say goodbye, so she waved as Valerie turned to take one last look at the house. Alec had strapped on his sword, took his pistol, and hid a dagger in his boot. He took anything small of value he could find to be used for trading, since the coins might be useless. He carried a small valise containing a change of clothes for him and Valerie and some food. Mr. Taylor had given them the device, showing them both how to use it, and strapping it on to Alec’s wrist, so he wouldn’t drop it. If he did, they’d never get back.

  Louisa stifled a sob as they disappeared into the woods. It was the safest place to go according to the old man. They wouldn’t want to find themselves in someone’s living room if they tried to go directly from the house. Louisa turned from the window as Kit strode into the room. She hadn’t seen him since the scene on the landing. Kit locked the door behind him but didn’t come further into the room. His eyes were blazing, his voice strangely quiet and controlled when he finally spoke.

  “All this time and you never told me. I feel such a fool.”

  “Kit, I didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge. There was no point. To be honest, I didn’t want to talk about that life. It would keep me from accepting this one wholeheartedly. Forgive me, Kit. I didn’t mean to deceive you.” Louisa took a step toward him, but he stepped back, cold and angry.

  “You and Valerie must have spoken of the old life, and Alec knew,” added Kit bitterly. “How you must have laughed behind my back.” Kit turned away from her, looking down at his sleeping daughter. Louisa couldn’t see his face, but she could see the rigid stance and the clenched fists. She’d expected disbelief, but she didn’t expect such anger.

  “Kit, we never laughed at you. We actually didn’t speak of it too often. It all seems so long ago. Our life is here, with you. Kit, please don’t be angry. I can’t bear it right now. I need you.” Louisa came up behind him, putting her arms around him, refusing to let go.

  “But you were thinking of going back. You and Valerie were considering it.” Kit didn’t push her away, but he didn’t turn around either. He didn’t want to look at her.

  “Kit, we weren’t really considering it. Neither one of us wanted to go, but we needed to be sure. We never expected this to happen. I’m so scared of losing Valerie again, but even more than that, I am scared of losing you. Kit, please, look at me.”

  Kit turned around then, his eyes unreadable as he looked at her in the darkness. The moonlight drained all color from his face, making him look slightly demonic, his black eyes lost in shadow. Kit suddenly lifted her up, tossing her onto the bed like a sack of turnips. Louisa scrambled out of his reach, but he grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her to the end of the bed, undoing his laces. She didn’t protest as he pushed up her skirts, ramming himself inside her. Kit had never touched her in anger, but she could understand his rage and confusion. Louisa bit her lip to keep from crying out. This was the first time since she gave birth to Evie, her body not as responsive as before. Kit’s thrusts grew less frenzied as he collapsed on top of her, his cheek wet against her face.

  “I won’t lose you, Louisa. I won’t. You are mine, now and forever. Don’t ever forget that. I’ll never let you go. If you go, you might as well kill me, for I’m nothing without you and Evangeline.”

  Louisa wrapped her arms around Kit, drawing him closer and kissing his face. He began to move again, gentler this time, kissing her lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “I’ll never leave you, Kit. You are mine as much as I’m yours. Nothing will come between us. I promise.”

  Chapter 8

  Finn couldn’t remember when he stopped running, or when he left the road. All he could remember was finding the farmhouse and crawling into the hay in one of the empty stalls of the barn. He was exhausted, hungry, and scared. His body shook uncontrollably, making his teeth chatter loudly in the silence of the stall. Finn’s thoughts raced like rats in a maze, scurrying and colliding, but not making any sense. He would give anything in the world to see his mother’s face or to feel his father’s strong arms around him. He’d often longed for his biological father, imagining him as a romantic, heroic figure. His father died for his beliefs, unapologetic and unafraid. He was a hero. Alec wasn’t like his real father. He was safe and solid, never wavering from his course, and Finn wanted him at that moment like he never wanted anyone before.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” he whispered into the darkness. “I’m sorry for not appreciating you as I should have. Please come and find me. Please. Find me like you found me that time in the cave.” Finn began sobbing as he remembered that day; the relief he felt when his father climbed into the cave and pulled him out. He also thought of the baby his mother lost that day. All because of him. Finn cried harder, shoving his fist in his mouth to stifle the sobs. He’d never been so scared in his whole life, or so alone. Eventually, the exhausted himself and fell asleep, dreaming dreams of home and family.

  **

  “Raise your hands above your head and get to your feet.” The command came from somewhere to the right, but Finn couldn’t see who was speaking from his position in the corner of the stall. He did as he was told, getting up and inching out slowly with his hands on his head. A feeble light from the open door illuminated a boy of about fourteen, holding a pitchfork aimed directly at Finn’s stomach. The boy looked as scared as Finn felt, but he held his ground and gestured toward the door with the pitchfork.

  “Walk.” The boy allowed Finn to pass in front of him, prodding him gently as he passed to demonstrate the seriousness of his intentions. Finn had no choice but to obey. Could things get any worse? he wondered as he was marched to the farmhouse by his captor.

  The appetizing smell of frying bacon and freshly-baked bread assailed Finn’s senses as he entered the farmhouse. The family was obviously at breakfast; several children of various ages seated on benches around a wooden table. An older woman was in the act of setting a pot of porridge on the table, but stopped with the pot in midair when Finn walked in, turning to her husband for an explanation. The man sat at the head of the table, pewter tankard in hand, ready to take a sip of whatever he was drinking.

  “I found him sleeping in the barn, Pa,” the boy announced, his chest swelling with pride. “I took him prisoner. He’s most likely a Royalist spy.” The boy prodded Finn again, forcing him to advance further into the room. Finn hoped no one heard his stomach growl as he inhaled the comforting smell of hot porridge.

  The older man put down his tankard, his gray eyes never leaving Finn’s face. “Put down the pitchfork Jonah before you hurt someone. Well done,” he added hastily, noting the look of hurt on his son’s face.

  “Now, who might you be?” He looked more curious than angry, giving Finn hope that he might escape unscathed.

  “My name is Finlay Whitfield. I didn’t mean any harm, sir. I was lost and needed a warm place to sleep. I’m deeply sorry for any offense I have caused. May I be on my way?” Finn tried to ignore the curious glances of the other children, their food forgotten for the moment.

  “Where are you headed, Finlay Whitfield?” The man sounded serious, but his eyes twinkled with good humor as he studied the young man in front of him.

  “I don’t know, sir. I have no place to go.” Finn averted his eyes as hot tears sprang into them unbidden, making him feel like a little boy. He wouldn’t give these people the satisfaction of crying.

  “You must be hungry, son,” the woman said. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast? There’s plenty for everyone.” She was already setting a place at the table, but Finn looked at her husband before answering. The man nodded in agreement, gesturing toward the empty place at the table. “Sit down and have some food. You look the worse for wear. We’ll talk more after you eat.”

  Finn stole a glance at Jonah, who looked abashed by his father’s reaction to the stranger. He slammed the pitchfork against t
he wall before taking his place at the table, his face red with anger.

  “Who do I have the honor of addressing, sir?” Finn asked, taking a seat. “I’ve given you my name, but I have yet to learn yours.”

  The man smiled warmly, clapping Finn on the back, his gray eyes dancing with amusement at Finn’s forced formality. “You are right, of course. I failed to introduce myself. I’m John Mallory, and that’s my wife, Hannah. You’ve already met Jonah.” He pointed to the eldest girl at the table. “That there is Martha, followed by Abigail, Sarah, and Annie. Where is your family?”

  “I don’t know, sir. We’ve become separated recently.” Finn gratefully spooned porridge into his mouth, the warm mush soothing his aching belly. He’d leave the bacon and bread for last since it was the tastiest. God only knew when he’d get to eat again.

  “Are your parents Royalists or do they support the cause of freedom?” Mr. Mallory asked, taking a large bite of bread and chewing thoughtfully. Finn was about to blurt out that his family was loyal to the King, when he recalled the man being dragged from his house by the mob the night before. They’d called him a “Royalist”. Maybe boasting of his loyalty to the King wasn’t such a smart idea.

  “We are not Royalists, sir.”

  “Hmm,” the man said, shaking his head. “I see.” Finn wasn’t really sure what he saw, but thought it was better to say as little as possible until he figured out what was happening. Everyone ate in silence for a little while, spoons scraping plates; the only sound aside from the fire crackling in the hearth.

  Finn was fairly sure that the Mallorys would let him leave after breakfast, although he had no idea where to go. He wondered if he should hide a piece of bread in his doublet for later, since he had no money for food. Going to Jamestown to look for Charles had been the extent of his plan, and now he was at a loss, which obviously showed in his face. Mr. Mallory wiped up some bacon grease with the heel of his bread, his eyes still on Finn, before speaking.

  “It seems to me, you’re in a bit of a predicament, young Finlay,” Mr. Mallory said at last. “You see, son, I’m in a predicament as well. My eldest, Samuel, is a corporal with the Continental Army. Enlisted in the spring. Jonah here is burning to enlist as well, but he’s only fifteen and too young to fight, thankfully. With all these women, I find myself short of help on the farm, and seeing as you have nowhere to go, maybe you’d be willing to stay for a while. I can’t afford to pay you, but I can provide you with a warm, dry place to sleep and three meals a day. There is no contract so you would be free to leave any time you chose to. Now, does that sound like something that might appeal to you?”

  Finn looked up from his bacon, surprised by the offer. They seemed like a nice family, and if he could stay for a while with no obligation, that would give him a chance to get his bearings. It’s not like he had anywhere else to go, and at least he’d have food to eat and a roof over his head. Finn sighed at the thought of his parents. They must be sick with worry, not knowing what happened to him. He needed time to figure out what to do.

  “Thank you, sir. I’m most grateful for your offer, and I gladly accept. You won’t be sorry, sir. I’m a hard worker,” he added for good measure, although his father always said he was lazy and spoiled.

  “Very well then. You can sleep in the loft with Jonah.” Mr. Mallory popped the heel of bread into his mouth and took a last sip of ale before making to rise from the table.

  “That’s Sam’s bed,” piped in Jonah, obviously outraged. He’d remained silent throughout the meal, but couldn’t hold in his frustration any longer.

  “Well, Sam’s not using it at the moment, is he? I might have some of Sam’s old clothes as well,” suggested Mrs. Mallory. “Your garments seem somewhat out of date, if you don’t mind me saying so.” She looked at Finn’s leather doublet and breeches as if trying to put a date to them.

  “That would be most kind of you, Madam. Anything you can spare.” The idea of wearing someone’s clothes wasn’t appealing, but he had no wish to stand out.

  “Now, Jonah can show you around the farm after breakfast. We have a field to clear today, so your help will be most welcome, Finlay.” Mr. Mallory rose from the table, ready to start his day.

  “Please, call me Finn. Everyone else does.” Finn smiled in gratitude as Mrs. Mallory added more bacon to his plate. She seemed like a kind woman - like his mother.

  Chapter 9

  Louisa bolted out of bed just as the first rays of the rising sun began to caress her face. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but she was tired and must have dozed off. Thankfully, Evie was still out, content after her 3 a.m. feeding, and Kit was sleeping soundly, his face serene. He had no trouble sleeping through stressful situations, but Louisa usually tossed and turned, unable to find oblivion. She must have been more overwrought than she realized.

  Louisa slipped on her dressing gown and crept from the room, crossing the hall to Valerie’s bedroom. Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned the handle and looked inside. The bed was neatly made, the Whitfields still gone. There’s still hope, she told herself as she made her way downstairs. Mrs. Dolly was alone in the kitchen, teasing the smoored fire back to life, so Louisa changed track and peeked into the parlor. Empty. Her stomach did a somersault as she stepped out onto the porch. The morning was fresh and cool, making her shiver in her thin dressing gown. There was no sign of anyone. Louisa trudged back upstairs with a heavy heart. She’d fervently hoped that Alec and Valerie would find Finn quickly and return before anyone was even up, but that obviously wasn’t the case.

  “They’re not back,” Kit said quietly. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of fact. He was sitting up in bed, gently rocking the baby. Her tiny mouth was already opening and closing, searching for a nipple. Louisa just shook her head and took the baby, sitting down in her nursing chair and putting the baby to her breast.

  “They’re not back,” she repeated, almost to herself. “You know what this means, Kit. If Finn had stayed close to the house, they would have found him quickly. If they’re still not back, it means he’s left the area and he could be anywhere by now. And there’s a war on.” Louisa sniffled, using the sleeve of her gown to dab at her wet eyes.

  “What war?” Kit was alert now, his interest piqued. “You hadn’t mentioned anything about a war last night.”

  “I never got the chance. Finn’s landed in the middle of the Revolutionary War. I wonder what made him pick that year,” Louisa added absentmindedly as she switched Evie from one breast to another.

  “Revolutionary War? Who revolted?” Kit asked with undisguised interest. Louisa had forgotten that Kit had no idea about what happened in the future. Alec had gotten an education from Valerie, but Kit had known about things for less than twenty-four hours.

  “The colonists rebelled against England. They wanted to break with England and govern themselves.” Louisa watched as Kit’s eyes widened in shock.

  “Really? What an extraordinary notion. That must have been a short conflict. Did England beat them back into submission?” Kit was warming up to the subject, his face aglow with boyish curiosity.

  “Actually, no. It lasted for years, and the American Colonies won their independence. They became the United States of America and eventually grew from thirteen to fifty states. England never did get over the shock.”

  “Fascinating,” Kit said. “Who would have thought it was possible to defeat England? Were they very well-armed and trained?”

  “Not as well as the British. The Continental Army was better armed and trained, but the Militia was mostly farmers and tradesmen, armed with pitchforks and hunting rifles. The British didn’t take them seriously enough until it was too late.”

  “Fascinating,” Kit said again, his eyes shining with wonder. “Who became their king? Was the rebellion led by someone of royal blood?”

  “Kit, I’ll tell you more later, but right now, we have more pressing issues. Since they’re not back, we have to figure out what to tell everyone.
We need a plausible explanation for Mrs. Dolly and Minnie, and the field workers. Charles will have to be told something as well, and what about little Louisa? How do we explain the disappearance of her brother and parents and the appearance of Mr. Taylor? He’ll have to stay here until they return since he’s got nowhere to go. Oh, Kit, what if they can’t find Finn?”

  “They’ll find him, Louisa. They must. Think good thoughts. There’s nothing more we can do now, except make sure that everyone is calm and ignorant of the truth. Let’s tell them that they went to North Carolina.”

  “Why would they suddenly go to North Carolina?” Louisa asked.

  “Everyone is worried about the lack of supplies for the coming winter. We’ll just tell them that they wanted to barter for some additional items, not available here. Finn would have gone with them. I don’t think anyone will question it. As far as Mr. Taylor goes, just say that he’s a relation come from England to visit.”

  “All right. I suppose that’ll do since I can’t think of anything better at the moment.” Louisa sighed. “I’m so frightened, Kit. What if they don’t come back?”

  “Sweetheart, you managed to find Valerie after going back in time, crossing an ocean, and surviving a pirate attack. Alec and Valerie have much better chances since they know where Finn went, and have some useful knowledge of the future. Even if Finn left the area, he must be somewhere close by. They will find him. You’ll see. Now, get dressed and come downstairs. We must act normally.”

  “You’re right, of course. I’ll just change Evie’s clout and check on Bridget before I come down. She’s been unwell. I hope she’s feeling better today. I wish I could tell her the truth, Kit. She’s always so practical and resourceful; she’d know how to make me feel better.” Louisa unwrapped Evie’s blanket to a howl of protest. She hated getting her clout changed.