by Laurie Brown
Chapter Sixteen
Eleanor woke late in the morning, heavy and groggy from her restless night. Then she remembered the ghosts had not come for her. She was still in the past and would see Shermont again. Her heart soared. Energized, she sat up, ready to face the day.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Deirdre said.
Eleanor’s hopes evaporated as she realized she was in a different room, and the two ghosts were seated primly at a small table near a window that faced the rear, rather than the south lawn where they’d played croquet and where the archery targets had been set up.
Disoriented, she asked, “Where am I? What happened?”
“That’s easy,” Mina said. “You’re in a room down the hall from where you were. Sorry about that, but the inn is crowded, what with that group of college students—”
“Stick to the point, Mina,” Deirdre said.
“Oh, certainly. And you are back in the modern world.” She punctuated her announcement with a quick jerk downward of her chin.
“But I didn’t save your brother.”
“Well, technically you did prevent the duel, even though you couldn’t prevent his death,” Deirdre said.
“And he wasn’t really our brother,” Mina added. “So you succeeded, even if not the way we expected.”
“What we know now is that our task wasn’t learning a lesson or doing something ourselves. We were merely the tools used to set a few events right that had somehow gone wrong. You helped us do that. Uncle Huxley inherited the title as he should have in the first place. And he was a marvelous guardian.”
“But he inherited the title before.”
“Yes,” Mina interjected. “But this time, because of what he learned about Teddy through your intervention, Uncle Huxley didn’t want us to wear mourning for such a brother, so he took us on his world tour. We collected thousands of specimens for his collection. Deirdre and I became quite expert at catching butterflies and moths and had such a wonderful time.”
“Did Huxley find his new species?”
“In New Guinea,” Deirdre said with a wide grin. “A stunning iridescent blue and green wing with a row of pink spots along the outer edge. The adults measured six to eight inches across. Magnificent. He named it Papillio huxdeirmin.”
“I’m so happy for him,” Eleanor said.
“Extinct now, unfortunately. That’s a specimen on that wall,” Mina said, nodding toward a framed butterfly that looked like a print.
“You should buy it,” Deirdre whispered. “When Uncle died we donated his entire collection to the British Museum, except for a few we kept for sentimental reasons. That silly female who runs this place has a price tag on it of forty-five pounds. It was worth thousands when we were alive.”
“And we want you to have it,” Mina said. “To remember us by.”
“As if I could forget you.”
Deirdre stood. “We just wanted you to know how much we appreciate your help. Now we really should go. Our husbands have been quite patiently waiting for us.”
“Wait! Did you marry brothers? I worried that since I prevented you from meeting—”
“We did marry brothers,” Mina said. “Magnificent, brilliant, kind, handsome Dutchmen we met on a butterfly hunting safari into central Africa.”
“They didn’t speak a word of English, and we didn’t speak any Dutch.”
“Oh, but what fun we all had learning.”
“Mina,” Deirdre said, her tone an admonishment.
“I’m glad,” Eleanor said. She wanted to ask them about Shermont, yet she debated whether to do it. She wanted him to have had a happy, fulfilled life and to have found love. Did she really want to know the details?
The ghosts said their good-byes, but as they faded, Eleanor heard them arguing yet again.
“We should have told her,” Mina said.
“She’ll find out soon enough,” Deirdre said.
“Wait! Come back! Tell me what?” Eleanor jumped out of bed and ran to where they had been. “That’s not fair,” she said to the ceiling. She spun around in a circle and wanted to yell and scream. “Damn it.” She stomped her foot, but it didn’t provide the same satisfaction as when she was wearing shoes. “Come back. Please.”
A long silence was her answer.
She sank into one of the chairs and dropped her head into her hands. Now she would never know about Shermont.
“The reason I was so hesitant,” Deirdre began.
Eleanor looked up to find the ghosts seated in the window seat. “You came back.”
“Obviously. Although materializing and dematerializing is quite draining.”
“Just tell her,” Mina said.
“Yes, well, the reason I was so hesitant when Mina first suggested taking you back in time to stop the duel is because we had already taken someone back earlier. That had ended with disastrous results. When we brought you to the present, we had to bring the other time traveler back as well.”
Eleanor connected the explanation to Patience’s disappearance into thin air. No wonder it was a disaster. She couldn’t think of a worse person to take back.
“Because of the necessity of bringing two of you back together and the limits of our available energy, we have returned you to a point two years in the past, if you measure from when you left. You are at the point when you visited the inn the first time. That’s why you’re in a different room. It’s the one you stayed in then. As far as anyone here knows, you arrived last night.”
“We’re quite pleased it worked out so well,” Mina said.
“Wait a sec.” Eleanor was a bit confused and plenty worried. “Won’t returning to an earlier time create a time paradox? An anomaly? Am I going to explode upon meeting myself?”
The ghosts giggled in response. “Good heavens, no.”
“Each individual is unique,” Deirdre explained, “and cannot exist in duplicate form. When you came back in time, you replaced the previous Eleanor completely. Quite simple, really. Elegant. As are most big truths of the universe.”
“But I remember everything that happened.”
“Yes. Your experiences during those two years and what you learned on your trip to the Regency made you stronger. Therefore, you, as the more powerful force, replaced your younger, weaker self. You are still you. The one and only you.”
Eleanor was still uncertain, but she had to accept it as truth. She hadn’t believed time travel was possible … until it happened. Still, if she met herself in the hallway, she was going to run in the other direction.
“Are you happy now?” Deirdre asked Mina as they started to fade.
“Wait! Please.”
The ghosts rematerialized.
“Please,” Eleanor said. “Tell me about Shermont. Did he have a good life? Did he marry and have children?” Her voice caught in her throat. “Did he find love?”
The ghosts looked at each other.
“We can’t say,” Deirdre said.
“Does that mean you don’t know or that you just won’t tell me?” Eleanor managed to keep her tone even despite her frustration.
“We did leave England just a few weeks after Teddy’s death and didn’t return for nearly twelve years,” Mina said. “After Uncle Huxley died we buried him at sea off Madagascar in the glorious Viking funeral he always wanted, and we continued his work. Until we decided the children needed to go to school. Such a handful they were. Climbing in the rigging, swearing like sailors, vowing to become pirates—even the girls. But they turned out—”
“Enough,” Deirdre said. She turned to Eleanor. “We’ve brought you our journals.” She motioned to the stack of more than a dozen slim leather-bound books on the table, some well-worn, some new looking. “We hid them so no one would ever find them. We fetched them earlier this morning.”
“While you were still sleeping.”
“Please consider them a thank you present. If you want, you can read all about our lives. You can probably auction the books off for enough mone
y to put your business venture on solid footing. Now, it’s time for us to go.”
“Wait. You do know what happened to him? Lord Shermont?”
“Yes, we—”
“Mina!” Deirdre’s sharp tone was more than a warning.
“Why won’t you tell me? You told me all about your lives.”
“We have limitations. His story is not ours to tell,” Deirdre explained.
“What if I ask you to take me back? What if I want to stay there permanently?”
Deirdre shook her head. “I’m sorry. That was never an option. You are where you are supposed to be.”
“You have been given the chance to relive two years of your life. A great gift,” Mina said.
“Use it wisely,” Deirdre added.
As they faded, Eleanor called, “Will I ever see you again?”
They didn’t rematerialize, but she distinctly heard their voices.
“Yes, when you—”
“Hush, Mina.”
To her surprise, Eleanor was heartened by the prospect.
Chapter Seventeen
Eleanor closed the book, stood, and stretched. After spending the morning reading the tiny handwriting in the journals, her eyes felt grainy, and her shoulders were cramped. She smiled. The girls had certainly led an exciting life. And she was only a quarter of the way through the stack of journals.
As she picked up the next one, her stomach growled, making her wonder if she should go downstairs and get some brunch before starting another. On the front of the book, rather than the year designation that she expected, was the title Sense and Sensibility, and on the flyleaf, by a Lady.
“Omigod.” A first edition Jane Austen. She gently laid it on the table. The next book in the stack was Pride and Prejudice by the Lady who wrote Sense and Sensibility. The following four volumes were also first editions. One of each of her novels.
Eleanor sank into the chair. Deirdre had said she could auction off the books for enough money to put her business on solid footing. These slim first editions were worth a fortune.
Inside the last one, published by Jane Austen’s brother after her death, were a number of loose pages. Letters, responses, and thank you notes, all signed by Jane Austen. Deirdre had listened to Eleanor’s advice and saved everything.
The provenance of the items might prove a sticking point. She could hardly claim the truth, but she’d deal with that later. She decided, for the time being, to put them in her suitcase, which she found in the closet.
Hanging in the closet was the outfit she’d planned to wear on that day, which seemed like two years ago. She had to smile at the navy blue pinstriped interview suit with the tailored white shirt and sensible shoes. She’d been so eager to get the job. It had turned out one of the worst of her career.
Instead, she pulled out a pair of jeans, a top with a vibrant zigzag stripe pattern that made her eyes look emerald green, and a pair of sneakers. As she dressed, she wondered what she would do that afternoon, since she planned to blow off the job interview.
Walking down the hall and stairs, she passed a number of framed watercolors for sale. One in particular caught her eye. The scene showed a Regency picnic at the site of the ruins. She recognized Deirdre and Mina facing the artist and looking at two men. Even though they were drawn from the back, she knew it was Shermont and Teddy. By eliminating the folks in the background and the chaperones seated at a table to the left, she realized Beatrix Holcum must have been the talented artist. Poor Beatrix. No one had thought to tell her gently when Teddy had been shot. Eleanor hoped the girl had found the happiness she never would have experienced with him.
Eleanor noted the price of the picture, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. A framed obituary hanging next to the watercolor explained the cost. Beatrix had gone on to become a well-respected artist in her own right, married an Earl, and lent her name and support to women’s suffrage, anti-child labor, and compulsory education for all children, among other good causes.
“You go, girl,” Eleanor whispered.
From the photo taken later in her life, Beatrix was still beautiful. She lived to a ripe old age and was survived by seven children, forty-two grandchildren, one hundred and twenty-nine great-grandchildren, and a great-great-granddaughter born on Beatrix’s ninety-third birthday and named in her honor.
With a wide grin Eleanor continued down the stairs. She wondered if she would ever know what had happened to the others—Alanbrooke with his charming smile and sad eyes, sweet Fiona and Hazel, even Parker and Whitby. And Lord Shermont. How could she find out what had happened to him? Above all, she hoped he’d found happiness.
On the landing she picked up a brochure on the Jane Austen House Museum in Chawton to read while she ate.
Halfway down the stairs she almost stumbled and came to a halt. In the entrance hall stood Jason, her former fiancé. When the ghosts had said she’d gone back two years, she hadn’t given a single thought to the fact that she’d met him on her first trip to England. He’d asked her to have lunch with him, and she’d learned he worked at the very studio where she had a job interview. So angelic with his curly blond hair and boyish grin. Seeing him again left her … confused.
With the chance to start the relationship over, she could do things differently. Was that what the ghosts had meant by using the time wisely?
Wait a minute. She wasn’t the one who had cheated. She wasn’t the one who had found someone else. This might be a second chance, but she wasn’t Anne Elliot pining for her noble Frederick Wentworth. Jason would always be a taker, looking for the easiest path. And Eleanor had changed during the past two years, especially in the last six months. She was no longer the mousy doormat who would give Jason her designs so he could shine while she toiled in the pit.
She’d also changed over the last few days. Shermont had made her feel beautiful, valuable, worthy of cherishing. She wasn’t willing to settle for less.
What would Jane Austen do if she encountered a person unworthy of her regard? She descended the rest of the steps. Jason smiled with an appreciative gleam in his eye, but she saw calculation behind it and knew his angelic looks were deceiving. She gave him a polite but cool, I’m-so-not-interested nod as she passed him. Just like Elizabeth Bennet did upon meeting Mr. Wickham after he’d seduced her younger sister Lydia and then accepted Mr. Darcy’s money to prevent a scandal by marrying her.
As she exited the inn, she felt such a sense of lightness that she couldn’t help grinning. She paused on the top step and resisted the urge to spread her arms to welcome the sunshine.
When her stomach growled, she remembered she’d intended to go to the dining room for lunch. She didn’t want to return just yet. Jason would assume she’d come back to meet him and he could be insistent when he wanted something. Better to avoid him.
Off to her right she noticed the inn owner had set up a yard sale on the side of the curving drive, hoping to coax tourists into spending more money at the inn rather than in town. She walked over to see what was available, giving Jason time to eat and leave the premises.
While the young male attendant listened to his headset and played a hand-held video game, she wandered among the rejected remnants of life in a huge old house. Three matching oil lamps with one unbroken glass globe shade. A piecrust table with water rings marring the top. Frayed baskets and old canning jars.
A golden butterfly flitted past her face. A clouded yellow, she now knew. With a smile she followed its path. In the back of the odds and ends, she found two metal-bound trunks, one with the initials DC carved into the curved, wooden top and the other with MC. Deirdre and Mina’s luggage.
Eleanor opened one, expecting it to smell like an old basement. But it must have been stored in the attic. Although it did smell old, there didn’t appear to be any mildew. There were a few articles of old clothing inside, the white muslin aged to ecru, the colors faded. Not museum quality, but she could use them to make patterns.
She cocked her head. Maybe beca
use she was so used to taking measurements, the inside of the trunk seemed less deep than she would have thought from the outside. She measured using the span of her hand that she knew was eight inches from thumb to outstretched forefinger. Either the trunk had a four-inch thick base, or there was a false bottom.
Once she knew it had to exist, she found the release latch camouflaged into the design of the lining paper and opened it. She didn’t have to check whose trunk she was looking in because Mina’s collection of jewelry gave the identity away. Sadly, much of it was tarnished, the faux jewels cloudy and dull. Lying on a paisley silk scarf was a miniature of Uncle Huxley with a butterfly net in one hand, grinning from ear to ear.
Eleanor closed the partition and then purchased both trunks. They were a bit pricey and would probably cost a ton to crate and ship home. She planned to add the Jane Austen novels and the journals to the stash, and then once home she would invite a few friends, including a lawyer and a reporter, to view her souvenirs. They would discover the false bottom and the books, and thus establish their provenance. Although the former owners of the trunks would probably kick themselves for selling them, she didn’t feel guilty about the ruse because the books had been a gift and didn’t belong to whoever that was. She insisted the boy write a detailed receipt that said “and contents.” He promised to move the trunks to her room.
In addition to the lightness, she now felt a sense of destiny. She was meant to be right where she was and meant to have Deirdre and Mina’s legacy. She headed back to the main entrance for something to eat. At the door she was nearly run over by a tall, skinny youth talking on a cell phone.
“Yo, Professor. Oops. Hold on.” He looked down at Eleanor. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” she replied, but she stepped aside to wait for him to go by.
He paused outside the door and returned to his conversation. “The tables are full, and they said at least a half hour wait. No, she didn’t have your reservation. Okay, but you’ll have to talk to her yourself.” He clicked off his phone and put it in his pocket before loping the short distance to the parking lot, where he mounted a motorcycle parked among a dozen others.
