Threaded Through Time, Book One

by Sarah Ettritch

  Chapter Ten

  Pam pressed her hand against the car door to steady herself as Jasper made a sharp turn onto a dirt road. As they’d driven to the Bainbridge Estate, she’d felt as if she were in a movie about the early twentieth century. She and Robin had an advantage over Jasper and Margaret; travelling to the past wasn’t as disorienting as travelling to the future. Okay, if she and Robin had arrived in ancient Rome, she’d probably be freaking, but here? They’d seen photos of this time period, watched the documentaries, visited the museums, read the prominent writers and sat through the plays. That wasn’t to say that she could sashay into town, blend in, and fend for herself, but she wouldn’t have to contend with an overwhelming number of unfamiliar sights, sounds, and objects. She’d cope.

  She gave Robin a sidelong glance. Oh boy. Robin was still sitting as if she had a stick up her ass; Pam could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left Margaret’s. If Pam discounted Robin’s terse one-word responses and grunts out on the veranda, she hadn’t said anything since coming down to the exerci—drawing room.

  Jasper pulled up outside what Pam assumed was the guest house, though it looked more like a cottage. Her exit from the car was far from graceful, despite Jasper opening the door and offering a supportive hand. She tripped over Margaret’s beautiful long dress, and would have to practice walking in it if she were to venture out dressed like a lady. Ever the gentleman, Jasper pretended she hadn’t almost ended up with her face in the dirt and walked her to the cottage’s entrance. Robin waited near the front door, still looking pissed.

  They followed Jasper into the small living room. “Here we are,” he said. “It’s not as modern as you’re used to.” Pam chuckled along with him, but Robin remained stone-faced. “But there are two bedrooms, and a fire to keep you warm. Oh, but I don’t think the pantry is stocked. I’ll bring round a hamper from the house, but I might not be back for a couple of hours. I’ll have to dine first.”

  Not wanting to appear uncomfortable, Pam resisted the urge to rub her arms and chase away the chill. “Don’t worry, Jasper, we’ll be fine.”

  His forehead creased. “Will you? I wish I could be here for you, like you were for us. I feel awful, running out on you, but I’m expected for dinner.” She smiled reassuringly. “We’ll manage, won’t we, Robin?” Robin grunted.

  “It’ll be like staying in a cottage out on the lake. We used to do that all the time when I was younger. Robin used to come with us occasionally. You always enjoyed yourself, didn’t you, Robin?”

  Another grunt.

  Pam inwardly sighed. “I guess I’d be optimistic if I looked for light switches.” Jasper nodded. “You’ll have to light the lamps. The main house is connected, but not this one. I chose this house because it’s in the farthest corner of the estate. Nobody should bother you here. You can even go for a walk, if you want to.”

  “I’m tired,” Pam said, then covered her mouth when her words evoked a yawn. “It’s night for us. And you’ll be having a second supper.”

  “So I will.” He clasped his hands in front of him. “All right, I’ll bring you round a hamper in a little while. Tomorrow we’ll start searching for the book. We’ll go, Pam. I’ll send a note to Margaret tonight, see if she’ll come keep Robin company and bring you more clothes.”

  “What about Robin?”

  “Oh yes, I’ll have Margaret bring her clothes, too.”

  Pam quickly spoke up when Robin’s face grew darker than it already was. “Um, didn’t you say you have a younger brother? Maybe when you drop off that hamper, you can bring a couple of his shirts and pants for Robin, if you think they’ll fit.” Appearing nonplussed, Jasper hesitated.

  “Please, Jasper.”

  “All right. But she can’t go out dressed like a boy.”

  “I’m not dressed like a boy, I’m dressed like me,” Robin snapped.

  “When we were in your time, we had to dress in accordance with the norms of your time,” Jasper said. “Now that you’re here—”

  “We’ll worry about that if Robin has to go out,” Pam said, hoping to head off a heated discussion. “Maybe she won’t. Assuming it doesn’t take us too long to find the book, when’s the earliest we can go back? The rhyme seems attuned to the full moon.” Oh my god. “When’s the next full moon? What phase of the moon are we in? There’s no Internet here,” Pam wailed.

  “You could always try looking outside later on,” Jasper said.

  “Of course! We’ll look outside!” She felt like a complete ass.

  Jasper grinned, felt inside his pocket, and pulled out his pocket watch, which he’d set in the drawing room. He frowned at the time. “I have to go. Oh, let me light the fire.” He also lit the lamps in the living room. “Make yourselves at home. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” When he reached the front door, Robin said, “Jasper.”

  He turned.

  Pam expected her to apologize, but she said, “Can you tell Margaret I’m looking forward to seeing her?”

  He nodded. “I’ll tell her.” Then he left.

  When she could no longer hear the car, Pam took a deep breath and faced Robin. “Okay, I’ve got us into a bit of a pickle.”

  Robin gaped. “A bit of a pickle? That’s what you call this?” She whipped the cap off her head and threw it onto a chair. “We could be stuck here for the rest of our fucking lives!”

  “We won’t be. We’ll find the book and get ourselves back.” She wandered into one of the bedrooms.

  Robin followed her. “And what if we don’t find the book? What then?” Pam caught a glimpse of herself in the antique full-length mirror. She turned sideways and sucked in her stomach. She looked rather fetching in Margaret’s—

  “Will you stop admiring yourself in the goddamn mirror, already? Jesus, Pam! Maybe this is a big adventure for you, but for me it’s a nightmare! I don’t belong here. I’ve got to get back.”

  “We both have to get back,” Pam said calmly. “And we will.” She gasped. “Mitzy! Oh my god! Nobody will be feeding her. Oh my god!” She covered her mouth with both hands as she imagined returning to a skeletal mummy near the food bowl.

  “Don’t worry about Mitzy. She won’t even exist for another . . .” Robin scrunched up her face “ . . . ninety-seven years. Worry about us. Please!” Robin’s pleading tone finally brought Pam to reality. She couldn’t deny that spending time in 1910—on Jasper’s arm and dressed to the hilt—appealed, but once the novelty wore off, she’d miss the comforts of home, probably when she caught her first cold or had a toothache. And Robin . . . my god, Robin couldn’t stay here. She’d have to constantly deny herself. What sort of life would she have? If they were trapped in 1910, Pam could and would eventually adjust, but Robin . . . to adjust would likely mean living a celibate and lonely life on the fringes of society.

  And it would be all Pam’s fault. She met Robin’s eyes. “No matter how long we have to search, we’ll find the book and go home.”

  “I hope so, because staying here won’t just be a problem for me and you. We have Margaret and Jasper to consider.”

  “You think I’ll break them up.” Pam put her hands on her hips. “They get married, remember?”

  “Yeah, in Halifax. They leave Toronto. We didn’t think it was because of us, but now that we’re here . . .”

  “You don’t think they leave because they need to get us out of Toronto, do you?”

  “Maybe they leave to get away from us,” Robin suggested.

  “Why would they do that?” She expected Robin to say, Because you’re coming between them.

  But after a moment, Robin shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m just thinking out loud. Do you want to check out the other bedroom and decide which one you want?”

  “Sure,” Pam said, happy to drop the subject and counting the minutes until Jasper returned.

  *****

  Margaret spooned the last of her pudding into her mouth and dropped the spoon into the dish. It
s clang drowned out Mother’s voice. “Pardon.”

  “I said, we’ll have to set the date and visit the dressmaker’s.” Since Mother hadn’t stopped talking since they’d sat down for lunch, she’d hardly touched her pudding.

  “I expect we’ll have a summer wedding,” Margaret said, suspecting there wouldn’t be a wedding at all. Her life, ruined for committing a single indiscretion—a moment’s insanity!

  Despite the anxiety that had unsettled her since returning home, she stifled a yawn. She hadn’t slept a wink last night; she kept reliving the kiss over and over again, perhaps trying to figure out whether she’d imagined it. When the note had arrived from Jasper, who still stubbornly refused to use the telephone, she’d cringed as she’d slipped the paper out of the envelope, sure it would convey harsh, shocked words and a warning that he would be paying a visit to Father. But it had simply said:

  Dear Margaret,

  My guests have settled into one of the guest houses. I would be obliged if you would lend Pamela clothing, as the railway has misplaced her trunk. I would also be obliged if you would call on Robin tomorrow afternoon while Pamela and I go into town. I will come for you at two o’clock.

  J.B.

  Either Robin hadn’t told him about the kiss, or it hadn’t happened. Could Margaret’s desire have somehow possessed her mind as she’d travelled from 2010 to 1910? No, the kiss, Robin’s lips, the delicious sensation of their bodies pressed together—Margaret grabbed her water glass and gulped the cool liquid down.

  “Are you listening to me?” Mother barked.

  “I’m sorry, Mother.” She set the glass on the table.

  “You’re still all aflutter about yesterday, I suppose.” Mother smiled indulgently.

  Margaret smiled in return. Mother had spoken the truth—in a way—but she wouldn’t smile when Robin finally broke her silence. Was Robin planning to tell everyone this afternoon, so Margaret would be forced to watch the horror on Pam and Jasper’s faces as comprehension dawned?

  The prospect of seeing Robin excited and terrified her. Her lapse of judgement had ripped away her mask. Robin knew her exactly for what she was—could be—no, she wasn’t one of those depraved people. Robin was an exception; Margaret’s attraction to her a warped representation of normal attraction, perhaps born of the unusual circumstances in which they’d lived for almost a month. Once Robin was gone, Margaret’s feelings would subside and she would never feel that way for another woman again.

  Mother’s eyes brightened. “Oh, in all the excitement, I forgot to tell you what happened when I was out strolling with Violet a couple of days ago.”

  “What happened?” Margaret asked, grateful for the potential distraction.

  “You’ll never guess who accosted us, demanding that we speak to him. Victor Tillman!” Mother thundered. “Bold as brass and stinking like a distillery. At eleven in the morning!

  Wanted to walk with us. Can you imagine?”

  Margaret felt strangely defensive on Tillman’s behalf. “You used to be friends.” Until everyone in his former social circle had dropped him the moment his financial woes became common knowledge.

  “Used to be, Margaret. The man is a disgrace! The whole family is a disgrace!” Mother picked up her spoon and gestured with it. “There’s only one way to deal with a Tillman, and that’s to carry on as if they’re not there. Do you hear me? If Victor Tillman, or any other Tillman, approaches you, walk the other way. You don’t want the Bainbridges to think that you socialize with rabble. Victor and his ilk should stick to their own kind, and their own neighbourhood.”

  Oh, how she’d love to tell Mother that a Tillman was currently staying on the Bainbridge Estate, albeit covertly. Margaret glanced at the time on the grandfather clock ticking away in the corner. “I must go, Mother.” She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and hoped her churning stomach wouldn’t bring up her lunch. “I’d like to freshen up before Jasper arrives.”

  “The poor man can’t bear to be a day without you.”

  No, that would be Pam. “Fortunately Helena wasn’t too put out when I cancelled our afternoon tea.” Margaret had cursed at her busy appointment book, then had laughed at herself for thinking that she could otherwise have spent more time with Robin. She would soon be sent away, and Robin wouldn’t want anything to do with her. Why was Robin keeping her silence?

  Margaret was still turning that question over in her mind when Jasper arrived. Her heart in her mouth, she went down to the drawing room to greet him. She relaxed slightly when he smiled and kissed her hand. So Robin still hadn’t said anything. “How are your guests?”

  “In fair spirits. I lunched with them.”

  “Did you discuss anything interesting?” she asked as casually as she could.

  “Nothing you’d consider remarkable. Questions about the guest house, the estate—oh, they might stay almost a month. It will depend on the weather.” If she understood him correctly, they had almost a month to find the book before the next full moon; otherwise Robin and Pam would be trapped here for another month. It would be easier if they could speak plainly, but Mother sometimes hovered outside when callers were in the drawing room.

  “Have you selected the clothing you’ll lend to Pamela?” Jasper asked.

  “Yes.” Margaret saw herself walking into the guest house carrying several dresses and then dropping them when Robin and Pam pointed at her and shouted deviant! “Are you sure Pamela should go with you? Perhaps we should go. You can take the clothing to Pamela when you call on them later.”

  “You’re not a book collector, Margaret, and our search may take us into the less desirable neighbourhoods, ones in which you don’t belong.”

  He wouldn’t feel that way when Robin finally spoke up.

  Jasper shifted his weight. “Don’t you want to call on Robin? I had the impression the two of you are friendly.”

  Startled, she searched his face and concluded the remark was innocent.

  “Robin is expecting you,” Jasper said. “She said to tell you she looks forward to seeing you.

  I forgot to include that in my note.”

  “Robin said that? That she’s looking forward to seeing me?” He nodded.

  Margaret didn’t know what to make of it. Had she imagined the kiss?

  “Shall we go?”

  “Yes. I’ll fetch the clothing. Why don’t you come to the bottom of the stairs? I’ll bring down the dresses and then go back for the other items.”

  Twenty minutes later they drove into the Bainbridge Estate. Margaret had sat quietly on the way, revelling in the familiar surroundings, but unable to ignore the nagging apprehension that now gripped her. She held the dresses in front of her as she stepped into the guest house’s living room, wishing she could hide her face behind them. When she glimpsed Robin and Pam, she swallowed and tried to smile.

  “You’re back!” Pam declared, shooting up from one of the wooden chairs near the fire. Her eyes widened. “Oh, those dresses look beautiful. Will you help me dress, Margaret, so I can get the look right? I may actually speak with people today.” She reached out and fingered one of the dresses.

  Robin stood behind Pam. “When they’re gone, I’ll make us tea.” Bewildered, Margaret struggled to find her voice. Not brave enough to speak to Robin, she gave Pam her attention. “Shall we go into the bedroom?”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  Margaret followed Pam into “her” bedroom and listened to her chatter as she helped her dress, grateful that Pam was practically holding the conversation on her own. To delay her time alone with Robin, she fussed over every detail, only relenting when Pam grew restless.

  Pam gasped when she saw herself in the mirror. “Look at me! You don’t have a fan and a parasol, do you?” She giggled. “You know, when I first saw this mirror, I thought it was an antique, but it’s not, not here.”

  “Do the shoes feel comfortable?”

  Pam lifted the dress and stuck one foot out. “They remind me of my grandmother.” He
r hand went to her mouth. “Oh, sorry. I forgot. I mean—”

  Margaret waved away her apology. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “They’re a tad big.” Still hitching the dress up, Pam swung her leg. “But they won’t fall off, and I’m planning to take it slow.” She let the dress fall, then glided into the living room when Margaret, who didn’t want to go first, stood aside and motioned for her to pass.

  “Wow. I’d almost believe you’ve lived here all your life,” Robin said.

  Jasper appeared struck dumb, and stared at Pam with an intensity Margaret had never witnessed. “You look—”

  Beautiful, Margaret thought, finishing the sentence for him.

  “—authentic.”

  “Authentic?” Pam lifted an eyebrow.

  “Time to find the book,” Robin said, perhaps feeling, as Margaret did, that Pam and Jasper would rather be alone. Margaret should care, but she was more worried about being alone with Robin than about any juicy conversation her fiancé might have with another woman.

  “Do you remember anything about the publisher or printer?” Jasper asked.

  Pam shook her head. “I read the copyright page once. I only remember the year because it was published in Toronto, and I thought that was interesting.” Jasper shrugged. “Then we’ll start near the docks. Shall we?”

  “See you later, girls,” Pam cheerfully said.

  Her heart pounding, Margaret went to the window and watched as Jasper helped Pam into the motor. Even though she knew they wouldn’t notice, she waved as they drove off, and continued to stare out the window, only turning when the clink of a cup meeting a saucer told her that Robin had gone into the kitchen. Torn between avoiding Robin as long as possible and wanting to be with her, she compromised and walked nearer to the fire, but was too agitated to sit down. Would they pass the afternoon with no mention of her transgression? Had the experience been so traumatic for Robin that she’d blocked it from her mind, wanting to pretend it had never happened?

  When she heard the sound of tea being stirred, she forced herself to face the kitchen.