by Tamara Gill
It was a carriage of some sort, with neither glass windows nor suspension if her bottom knew anything about such things. Her eyes widened with shock as she took in her surroundings. The woman who’d helped her was dressed in what...some sort of woollen gown with a cloak?
Maddie took a reluctant peek at her own clothes and grasped her chest in horror. Gone were her comfortable cotton pyjamas sporting red hearts. Instead, an outfit from a long ago past met her eyes: a chemise of some sort overlaid with a beautifully woven woollen gown.
The sort of clothes one saw in museums and costume books.
She swallowed the panic rising in her throat, and strove for calm. The dress, of light blue wool, was overlaid with a cloak, similar to the stranger’s, but a darker shade.
This couldn’t possibly be happening. She could not be sitting in a carriage, clothed in medieval fashion. Her temples started to ache, reaching up she rubbed beside her eyes only to find a veil either side of her face and a metal crown holding it in place.
Maddie jerked her hand away, unwilling to venture further, scared as to what else she would find.
“I’m dreadfully sorry,” Maddie said, taking a deep calming breath. “But can you tell me who you are and where I am?” Not that she wanted to hear the answer, knowing somehow it wouldn’t be to her liking.
The woman paled and Maddie instinctively reached out a hand to console her, not sure why such a question would cause alarm.
“Hwæt lá!”
Maddie jerked as the words, spoken in Old English, hit her.
“M’lady, are you...well? I know you hit your head when you toppled from your seat but I did not think the knock was as severe as this. Do you not remember me or what you are doing today?”
She struggled to fit the antique words to their modern equivalents. She frowned and looked out the window, only to find her worst nightmare was true. Determined to contradict the horror, she poked her head further out the window, only to glimpse four cantering horses dragging the uncomfortable carriage along a muddy track. A clod of mud flew up from under racing hooves and struck her cheek. Maddie gasped, and pulled back inside the rickety carriage and wiped the dirty piece of god-knows-what from her face with shaking fingers.
“Please don’t tell me there are horses attached to this vehicle. If you do I...I think I’m going to pass out.” Her breath notched and held, on the verge of hyperventilating. She spoke in modern English, too alarmed to try to pull the correct ancient vocabulary to mind. “What if they bolt or overturn us? Please have them stopped so I can get out.”
“Lady Madeline, no such thing will occur. You have travelled such ways numerous times. Please, try to calm yourself.” The woman’s brow puckered in distress. “My concern is more for your lack of memory. Do you not recall your plans for today or what you have done over days past?” the woman asked in a solicitous voice.
With white knuckles, Maddie held the seat with both hands. She hated horses. They were large, big hoofed beasts that couldn’t be trusted. When she turned twelve, her parents had thought to give her riding lessons. Something all city girls surely wanted to do they’d said, but not this one—ever! Not only was she bucked off on her first lesson, but then the monster-like animal had tried to run her down. Maddie had refused to return, and had never been near a horse since. And now, after all the years of careful avoidance, she’d landed in a blooming carriage at the mercy of not just one, but four. It was enough to make her cry. And she never cried.
“What?” Maddie asked in the same language the lady used, if a little hesitantly.
“Do you recall, Your Ladyship, what you have done over the last week or what your plans are for today?”
Her Ladyship? Why was the woman calling her Her Ladyship? And how could she answer such a question without sounding ridiculous? She supposed she could describe how she opened her store every day, gossiped and chatted with the butcher across the street and looked for historical artifacts in the Thames, all in the twenty-first century... She rubbed her throbbing temple. This was all so wrong. How was she in a damn carriage when she should be home in bed! She was obviously going crazy, cuckoo from working around and breathing in turpentine and methylated spirits all day.
Maddie took a calming breath and looked down at her hand. The ring she had put on only minutes ago was gone. She frowned, at a loss as to where it would be. Could it have fallen off?
She leant forward to look on the floor and suffered an instant bout of vertigo. Not all the floorboards meshed and the road beneath the carriage zoomed past. Maddie swallowed the nausea that rose in her throat, sitting back she closed her eyes and willed herself anywhere but here. Wherever here was. A strangled moan escaped her tightly closed lips.
“Can you tell me what it is I’m supposed to be doing today, Mrs....?” Maddie asked, not sure how to address the middle-aged woman who sported a look of horror on her weathered face?
“Lady Madeline, you are to marry today. We are headed to the church anon,” she said, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap. “What should we do, m’lady, for I believe you have lost your memory? I will strangle that cursed driver when I get my hands on him. I told him to be wary of the roads for there are many ruts and stones.” The woman paused, and her bosom heaved taking a much needed breath. “M’lady, will you continue with the wedding as planned? Or shall I notify our driver to return us home to Aimecourt?”
Maddie’s heart stopped at the word wedding. Was this some sort of sick joke or ridiculous dream? If so, neither one was amusing. She pinched herself trying to wake up, then absently rubbed the painful welt on her arm. What was she to do?
“What did you say your name was? I missed it with all this noise.” Not to mention the screaming panic in my head.
The woman gasped, her eyes flaring with a mixture of fear and puzzlement. “I am Mistress May Rhode,” she replied, hesitantly. “I have been in your family’s service since your birth, m’lady. I am your personal maid and companion.”
“And I am...?” Maddie asked.
“Oh, my dear!” Mistress Rhode cried, her voice wavering in panic. “You are the Lady Madeline Vincent, daughter of the deceased Baron of Aimecourt.”
Maddie started at the little tidbit. A baron’s daughter.
“And I live...?” she pressed, not happy with any of the answers so far.
“At Aimecourt Castle, of course, in Cumberland.”
Cumberland? Could the maid mean Cumbria? If so, at least it meant she was still in the UK, despite Mistress Rhode’s slight foreign accent.
“I’m sorry to be a nuisance, but who is it I’m supposed to marry today, Mistress Rhode?”
“Lord William Dowell, Baron of Kingston. His property abuts your own, Your Ladyship. Your parents arranged the marriage many years ago. I should imagine they thought to strengthen their forces in such hard and trying times.”
Maddie tore her attention from the land outside and met Mistress Rhode’s gaze. “What do you mean by that? Is the country at war or on the brink of one? Am I in danger?”
“Nay, child, and you’re quite safe. But as you well know, life is hard in these unforgiving times.” Mistress Rhode looked away, a frown upon her brow.
“What is the date today?” Maddie waited anxiously to hear the answer, and at the sound of the woman’s uneasy laugh, trepidation settled in her stomach like a rock.
“Why, it’s the twenty-first day of September, my dear.”
Relief made her shoulders sag. The day at least was the same, as she knew it. But what year did the woman think it was? From looking at their gowns, Maddie was certain the era was before indoor plumbing and central heating.
“And the year, Mistress Rhode?” she pressed.
“It’s the year of our Lord, eleven-hundred and two, m’lady.”
“What!” 1102! Was the woman mad? Maddie shook her head denying such a thing was possible. “Who is the current monarch of England?”
“Good King Henry, m’lady.”
“No,�
� she muttered. “That cannot be right.” Obviously, she was having a very bad dream, and any moment now she would wake up. Come on Maddie, she chanted...bloody well wake up. Now!
She didn’t. “I can’t be here,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes closed in denial.
“M’lady, are you saying you do not wish to proceed with the marriage?”
Maddie met the woman’s confused if not slightly scared eyes and nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m from the year 2011, I can’t be in 1102, it’s not possible.”
“You are not from the year 2011, m’lady,” the maid said, impatience tinging her tone. “You were born in 1078 at Aimecourt Castle.”
Maddie’s mind froze and struggled to think. What was she to do?
“What is your decision, m’lady? Shall you continue with the marriage as arranged?”
Today could not be her wedding day. Maddie laughed, the sound far from humorous. This was absurd.
“We shall go to the church, but only to cancel the marriage. I don’t wish to be rude to the man waiting there, but I’ll not be joined with him today or any day?” And obviously, she would wake up very soon, not a little bit relieved and able to laugh about this ridiculously detailed nightmare she was currently living.
“I’m sure you will regain your memory anon, m’lady. ’Twas after all, a small rut, and not much damage done, I’m certain.” The woman fiddled with her rosary. “’Tis right you should speak to the Baron of Kingston of your decision. I would hate to keep his lordship waiting.”
Maddie flicked a glance at the woman. “What do you know of this man, Mistress Rhode? Have we met before? Are we acquainted? Are we friends?” Maddie’s heart dropped as her supposed maid cringed before hastily masking her features. She tamped down the panic demanding to burst free. Had she been about to marry a raving medieval lunatic and the maid was playing coy? Please, please, please don’t be the case. For if he were mad, her coming meeting with him could prove difficult.
“Some say he is a respectable, strong man of many riches. You, m’lady, have never met him. Your parents and his were...acquaintances, close land holders for many a year.”
Some say, what did the rest say? And why did her maid pause over her answer?
“This Baron of Kingston guy, how old is he?”
“I believe his lordship is nine and twenty.”
Both Maddie’s neatly plucked brows shot up. So her dreamed up betrothed was only five years older than herself. Did that make her an old maid in this time? Twenty-four was a fair age, she would assume in medieval England. She shifted in her seat; the woollen dress she’d acquired somewhere between here and reality prickling against skin used to cotton and fabric softener.
“Ah, here we are, m’lady. We have arrived.”
Pulled from her thoughts, Maddie looked out the carriage window and gazed upon what would seem to be a church.
“Isn’t there a town that goes with this church?” she asked.
Mistress Rhode cast her a puzzled frown. “No m’lady, this is the Baron of Kingston’s chapel. He wished it to be built here. It acts as an outpost, I believe, a lookout if you will, against any impending attacks.”
“What, do you mean attacks? Like war parties?” Fear crept up Maddie’s spine as the woman spoke with conviction.
“Yes, m’lady. Now, come along.”
The church, built of stone and rectangular in design, looked plain and oddly unused. The roof with a mix of wood and thatch looked badly in need of replacement. Maddie stepped out of the carriage and instantly cool sludge surrounded her slippered foot, her embroidered gown lying on top of the muddy puddle.
She rolled her eyes. Great, what else could this dream throw at her?
Inside the church, Maddie was surprised to find it vacant of guests. Was she so sad, she couldn’t even dream up a few relatives to invite? A man dressed in a brown, rough-sewn cloak, bowed and greeted her by her title. Was this her fiancé? He seemed a lot older than twenty-nine.
“I’m sorry, sir, but there will be no ceremony today,” Maddie said, looking to her maid who stood in the doorway wringing her hands.
“Bring her forward.”
Maddie spun about at the deep commanding voice and looked toward the altar. Ah, so this was her fiancé. “My lord, let me apologize for the confusion, but you must understand I cannot marry you.”
“Bring her forward.”
Maddie frowned at the hardened tone, then gasped as the man who greeted her clasped her arm in a punishing brace. “No! I will not marry him,” she yelled, struggling against her captors hold. Oh my gosh, they are going to make me marry this man!
Maddie yelled for Mistress Rhode, and, looking over her shoulder noted a knight pinning her maid’s arms behind her back and pressing a blade to her chest. Maddie dug in her heels and fought against the cloaked man dragging her toward her groom. She screamed for her conscience to wake up and get her out of here, it had always worked before.
Not today.
Her mud-soaked slippers scraped against the wooden floor as her captor thumped down the exposed wood, her weight no impediment to him. The nauseating smell of burnt incense instead of the nice vanilla candles she was used to back home made her queasy stomach roll.
Maddie took a deep breath, refusing to panic. Not yet, at least. But the continued lack of tenderness in her supposed groom’s hard-featured face didn’t sit easy in her mind. If this were her imagination, surely her dreamed up fiancé would gaze down the aisle, filled with pride, love and if she was really lucky, perhaps a hint of lust.
She craned another look over her shoulder, seeking out someone who might help. She whimpered when the grip on her arm tightened, hauling her more roughly forward.
As they approached the Baron of Kingston, her captor shoved her and she fell, her hands stinging when they hit the rough wooden boards. The baron wore weird leather shoes and a hose that seemed to be held up with ribbon crisscrossing up his legs. Lying at his feet, the man seemed powerful and very, very tall. Annoyance jabbed at her conscience at her fiancé’s ability to refuse to acknowledge her. Or help her to get up.
Nerves soon replaced her annoyance. This all seemed so real and lifelike. Doubt that it was all a dream started to form and take hold. Maddie stood and squared her shoulders, refusing to cower before this man, a dreamed up figment of her imagination. He couldn’t hurt her. Only her mind could, if she let it.
“I’m not going to marry you.” A blade appeared in his large hand, his fingers idly twisting the knife. Sunlight filtering through the church window flickered off the weapon. Maddie swallowed and stilled. Her eyes focused on the silent threat. Jaw clamped, she waited, trying to ignore her maid’s echoing whimpers, which did nothing to quieten the fear clawing her stomach.
“You will, my lady, as it pleases our sovereign you do so. So, unless you wish to end up dead, say your vows and let us be done with it.”
Maddie bit back what she thought he and his sovereign could do with the decree and turned beseechingly toward the watching priest. The elderly man wiped sweat from his brow and started the ceremony.
Maddie’s eyes widened at the priest’s lack of help. Surely a man of the cloth would aid a defenceless woman. With no help from the Almighty’s servant, she turned on her heel and walked away. Not two steps down the aisle and her arm was wrenched behind her back. Fear unlike any she had ever known denied air into her lungs when cold, whispering words sounded beside her ear. “’Twould be wise you turn about, my lady, and marry me. Unless the prick of my blade is what you wish to feel.”
Her gaze flicked to her whimpering maid and the fight to argue left her. She had no desire to die. And if this did turn out to be a dream, come tomorrow morning a good strong coffee would set any residual nerves to rest over the nightmare.
“M’lady, do as he says. I beg you.”
At the elderly woman’s plea, Maddie nodded. “Release me, you medieval oaf, and I’ll marry you. But if you stick that bloody knife anywhere near me
again, I’ll stick you with mine.” Not that she had one, but he didn’t need to know that.
“So we have an agreement, Lady Madeline?”
She glared. “Yes.” For the moment.
Maddie studied her groom as much as possible without being obvious. Senses she hadn’t experienced for an age ran along her skin and came alive. He had sinfully long eyelashes that shielded eyes the color of chocolate. Light-brown locks sat loose on well-proportioned shoulders. Maddie looked down to the wooden floor, not at all happy with her turn of mind. The last person she would consider attractive was the ogre beside her.
And yet she couldn’t deny his envelope of flesh was appealing.
Unable to stop herself, she peeked up at him again. Heat washed across her cheeks when his cold stare met hers. Instinctively she knew she was in trouble. His eyes narrowed, distaste and annoyance crossed his features, before he blinked and was once again looking at the priest, all emotion now wiped from his face.
She had to get away, and if sensing her imminent bolt, a large, warm hand clasped strong around her wrist. He squeezed, hurting her, silently communicating for her to keep quiet, before placing both their hands onto the Bible. Maddie looked up at the priest in disbelief, shocked and fearing for her future, however long it was to be with this man. What was his problem? And what was hers? How could she dream up fiancés who hated her?
The service ended as quickly as it began. Within minutes, she found herself escorted, or perhaps a better word was dragged, outside toward her carriage. His hand around her arm held firm, his fingers a mere squeeze away from painful. Maddie yanked free from his gasp, absently rubbing bruised flesh as she scanned her surroundings. She stopped as the sight of endless fields, free from housing or motorways met her view. She inwardly smiled, unaware she had it in her to imagine such picturesque countryside.
“You will travel back to my holdings immediately, my lady, within your own carriage. I will join you there at my convenience.”
