by Jo Noelle
Cora looked at the clock—only ten minutes from now. There wasn’t time to call for any help to dress, and it probably wasn’t advisable to let anyone know that she was running off to meet with him, anyway. She dug through the wardrobe, finding the gown she’d worn when she’d been transported back in time. Although it resembled an authentic nineteenth-century gown but more Regency than Victorian, it had a zipper—she could dress herself.
After putting on her shoes, she caught her reflection in the mirror and tugged the pins out and then ran a brush through her hair. She pulled the sides up and pinned at least that much in place, then eased open her door and checked to see if anyone was in the hallway. Clear. She left and closed the door, but instead of turning to go down the formal staircase, she turned the other direction and headed for the servants’ stairs.
She hurried down two flights, her slippers tapping out a staccato beat as she ran, only startling a maid and a footman in curiously tight quarters and meeting no others. Was she in time? If not, she had no idea where to look for a larder or even precisely what one was. Cora wondered if she could just wander around and discover where Simon was. That wouldn’t look suspicious or anything.
When she entered the large workroom adjacent to the kitchen, Simon stood next to the doorjamb, holding several plates, the top one heaped with food. In his other hand, he held a large bowl covered with a small plate.
“You’re late, so I retrieved the rabbit anyway.”
“You have a few plates there.”
“I was expecting company.” With a tip of Simon’s head, Cora followed him to the wooden table that served as workspace during meal prep where he motioned her to sit. She did, and he set plates and silver out for them to use, then served her a quarter of rabbit.
From the very first bite, Cora appreciated Simon’s praise for the dish. In fact, he might have understated its merits. The fast food of her century paled against the hearty, savory foods in this. Even restaurant dishes lacked the complexity and depth of these.
With the last mushroom and the last bit of sauce eaten, he removed the plate from the top of the bowl. “Dessert?” he asked, tipping the bowl slightly to show the contents.
Cora had no idea what was in the little crocks at the bottom, but anything under the fluffy whipped cream would be fine with her. She looked to Simon to fill in the answer.
“Almond pot de crème,” he said, carefully lifting a shallow bowl and holding it in front of her.
“Oh. Custard. It smells wonderful.”
Simon dramatically covered Cora’s mouth with his hand and glanced around the kitchen with a look of fear on his face. “My French cook would deny us the pleasure of these little pots of wonderful if he heard you call it ‘custard.’ Not a very French term, you see.”
Cora widened her eyes and nodded emphatically, picking up her spoon. Simon placed a small pot in front of each of them. As with everything she’d tasted here, the dessert wasn’t as sweet as its modern counterpart, but maybe her tastes had changed. The almonds and cream were the featured flavors instead of sugar. She much preferred the clean taste.
When they were finished, Simon disappeared briefly into the kitchen with their dishes and returned. “You missed Everett’s announcement at dinner this evening.”
Cora felt the rush of excitement. “He and Lucy are engaged?”
“Yes. They plan to marry in a month. Her mother has some shopping to do and won’t allow it earlier.”
“I’ll bet he was disappointed.” Simon nodded, and Cora added, “But maybe not more than Lucy.”
“I believe you’re right.” He took a drink of wine. With some uncertainty in his voice, he asked, “Will you hunt with us tomorrow?”
Cora did the same as she stalled for time. She’d made assumptions and blamed Simon for her conclusions. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t understand. I should have asked. I judged you poorly.”
“I could forgive you—for that last spoonful of crème.” Simon pointed his spoon toward her bowl, but she quickly scooped up the dessert with her own spoon. A mixture of surprise and disappointment crossed his face followed by a deep laugh.
It felt good to laugh beside him. Very good. “That’s a fair deal. I’ll take it.” She lifted her spoon to his lips.
His hand covered hers, and he smoothly turned the spoon back toward her, saying, “I couldn’t extort that last bite from you. But I’ll accept your apology.”
Cora knew Simon was deeply principled even when he was playful. He was a good man. The spoon dropped into her crock only a second before her lips met his. She swung her legs over his lap, and he deepened their kiss. Her head swam with excitement, a sort of dizzy pleasure. Did he feel the same?
After several spine-tingling moments, Cora felt him take a deep breath and lean away.
“Having you in my home has touched me deeply. I look forward to seeing you each morning, spending as much of the day with you as I can contrive, then ending the day with you again. Only one thing is lacking to make me the most happy man … ”
Simon gently moved her legs and then slid to the floor on one knee.
He’s not … he wouldn’t … Part of her ached to hear words of love and commitment to a lifetime spent together. Another part still clung to her life—her real life.
He reached for her hand.
He’s going do this. Now. That’s what this is. “Stop! You can’t.” I don’t know if I’m staying or not. He had no idea who she was really. And, how was she supposed to tell him? He couldn’t propose. “You’ll ruin everything.”
Cora jumped from the bench and ran. At the kitchen door, she turned and said, “We won’t talk of this tomorrow. We’ll have breakfast and go hunting. That’s all.” She didn’t even pause as she turned the corners while running up the servants’ stairs. She panted before the door to the rose room. Why the big panic? But she knew—she was being chased by her own indecision, her own doubts. Why didn’t she just hear him out and explain that she wasn’t ready to consider the question?
Her hand rested on the doorknob, but she didn’t turn it. His face had turned up toward hers with such love in his gaze, gentleness in his smile. The tenderness in the mere touch of his fingers on hers still flooded her senses. The simple answer might have been that she was afraid of breaking his heart. That she had to run far from it. However, the fear bubbling up from the truth was far more threatening in that moment—she ran from her own intense desire to say yes.
Her whole body felt weak. She would go to bed, but she knew sleep wouldn’t come. She had to decide what to do. She turned the latch and pushed on the door to her room. A single candle’s light guttered from the breeze it made as it opened.
Lady Atkins sat on Cora’s bed, her arms across her chest. She unfolded and stood. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Cora tensed and kept silent. She could take her. She didn’t trust Lady Atkins and stayed wary of her.
“I’ve been wanting to have a little chat with you for quite some time now.”
“Maybe you should have extended an invitation instead of entering my room unwelcomed.” Cora could feel her muscles ready.
“Oh, dear. We’re starting off on the wrong foot.”
Cora noted the smirk on the woman’s face. Hardly repentant. “I’d say. You can leave now.” Cora stepped away from the doorway.
As Lady Atkins walked past, she said, “Simon might sneak off to the kitchens with you at midnight, but he’ll only dally with you before casting you aside. Men like him don’t marry women like you.” She pulled the doorknob behind her, then stopped. “I have an agreement with his family. He’s only playing with you. It’s pathetic, really.” Then she stepped into the hall and slammed the door.
What a viper. Cora knew the man Lady Atkins claimed to know well enough to marry, and that man would never propose to Cora if he had a previous agreement. His honor meant too much to him.
At breakfast the next morning, Cora noticed Simon appeared to have gotten as little sleep as she
did. He was somewhat quiet but often glanced her way. She knew because she was doing the same. May and Everett had puzzled looks as their attention was often on the couple, too.
Before heading to the fields, Simon announced, “Much of today’s bag will provide a feast for the marriage celebration for a daughter of one of the estate’s retainers this evening. We will provide an evening of cards here, but if any would like to attend the wedding party, you are welcome.”
The hunt went much as the previous one had. Cora was pleased that today’s sport would provide the happy start for Nanny Kate’s daughter’s new life. As they walked home, Cora asked Simon, “How many do you think will attend the wedding?”
“None.”
Her attention twisted to his face. “None?”
“Well, not more than a couple. It’s beneath them to attend the wedding of a laborer. Everett would want to attend just to dance with Lucy, but her parents will forbid it. Lady May might attend, and Saalfeld will follow her, as he would anywhere. That’s it. And us.” He looked at Cora with an incredulous glance.
Did he doubt she’d want to go? “Then the four of us will have to have enough enjoyment for the rest.” Cora wondered if Lady Atkins would attend just to be near Simon but decided that the woman would consider it slumming and wouldn’t go. Good.
Just as Simon had predicted, the only other couple to attend with them was May and Saalfeld. It suited Cora very well. Unlike formal events, it was perfectly acceptable to dance numerous times without censure. And so, both couples did.
Each time Simon took Cora into his arms, her body ached to stay there. As they passed by each other when the steps didn’t require them to hold, Simon winked flirtatiously and incidentally touched her, causing goose flesh to erupt from the spot. And for the hundred times he smiled at her with real enjoyment, she melted. Crap—she was in love.
When they returned to their carriage to go home, Simon leaned over to Cora. “Have you considered the question I didn’t get to ask?”
She shook her head, then slowly made eye contact. “I don’t know my own mind yet. When I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Then I’ll wait … and hope.”
She reminded herself that this was why she’d stayed past when her roommates returned. She hadn’t known her own mind. She still didn’t. Hearing him say that he still had hope, gave her a little, too.
Simon handed Cora down when they arrived at Leavensfield. “Are you interested in an outing tomorrow?”
“Of course. What do you have planned?” The couple walked extra slowly toward the house.
“A surprise.”
She loved the twinkle in his gaze as he said that. “For me or for everyone at the house party?”
He leaned very close to her ear and blew across her neck before saying, “Only for you.”
“Yes. I’m very interested in your outing. What time will we go?”
“Before breakfast, so others won’t join us.” They ascended the steps, and the butler opened the door wide.
“I’ll skip my workout and meet you in the parlor.”
“Meet me in the stables instead. We’ll be riding.”
At the appointed time the next morning, Cora, leaving through the kitchen door, met Simon, who must have exited through the front door, on the path to the stables. “Is our ride today to one of your favorite places on the estate as well?”
“It is, and I’m predicting it will become one of yours.”
Cora appreciated the excitement in his voice and the gleam in his gaze. He truly enjoyed surprising her. She in turn liked that he wanted to. “I’m intrigued,” she said. “Will you give me a hint about the place?”
Simon thought for a moment, but they arrived at the stables before he answered. Two horses were saddled and waiting.
Cora reached out with one hand to greet Simon’s horse, Hrimfaxi. “We met the other night, big fella,” she cooed close to his face.
“May I present Seti?”
Cora moved to greet that horse and let him have the scent of her. “Another name from mythology. I’m sensing a trend, Simon.”
“It was a particular fascination for a while.”
They both swung into their saddles, and Simon led them northward on an ordinary though not well-worn road. “About that hint?” Cora reminded him.
Simon nodded. “It was abandoned decades ago, but it is quite populated. It is a place of poverty, but everyone has sufficient for their needs. This place is founded on a shared past to change the future.”
“A riddle?” She faced him to see a growing smile. “I have absolutely no idea.”
“You’ll have to wait and see. The road is fine today. Shall we speed up our journey a bit?”
Cora nudged her horse into a lope at the same time as Simon. The ride was enjoyable as they alternated between canter, walk, trot, and back again. The scenery became increasingly remote with few houses and fewer people wandering about.
After a couple of hours, Simon guided them to a stable. “We’ll leave the horses here. Our destination is just over that hill.”
Cora held the hem of her dress off the dirt while she accepted Simon’s extended arm. Then they took off on foot. Near the rise, Cora could see the jagged crenellation on top of a great square tower. With each step they took, the building revealed itself slowly over the rise of the hill. The walls were made of the same gray stone as the tower and looked to be of ancient design. When they reached the top of the hill, Cora could see the entire building. Though not huge, it had a presence and likely a history. The slats on the roof were grown over in places with green moss as were the flagstone walkways.
“What’s the name of the building?”
“It’s Clarencestead Abbey. The central tower is a remnant of the Roman strongholds in the area. Centuries later, the lower-level rooms and walls were added, and it became a cloister for nuns. Finally, it was liberated from religious duties by King Henry VIII when he dissolved the monasteries in England. It became private property and was joined to the dukedom.”
“I’m sure there’s more to the fascinating history.”
“There is, but that’s not why we’re here.” The arched doorway at the front, centered at the bottom of the tower, opened as they approached.
Cora’s curiosity was piqued, but before she could ask more, an older couple met them.
“We got your letter,” the man said.
Nearly over the top of his words, the woman said, “We’ve been waiting since early for you to arrive.” Then she turned to Cora. “Welcome. Welcome.”
“Cora, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Miller, the caretakers of the Clarencestead Abbey School.” Greetings were exchanged. Then the woman’s arm rounded Cora’s shoulders and pulled her alongside as they stepped into the cool interior. There was an earthy smell to the building, not like mud and not offensive, just clean earth. It was welcoming.
“A school?” Cora asked. “Is it yours?” She threw a quick glance at Simon as the woman walked Cora down a short hallway with Simon following behind.
“Of a sort,” Simon replied.
As they neared an open door, Cora recognized random sounds. Her heartbeat raced with excitement. In this century, a school for children who were typically developing would have been quiet enough to hear a pin drop. She knew these children didn’t know their sounds were loud. Flashes of her own childhood and early education warmed her through. She knew the children must be deaf.
“This school is the only school like it in … ”
Cora was no longer listening to the adults in the hallway. She whirled toward Simon with a spontaneous hug, then bustled through the door, realizing too late that she might be interrupting a lesson. A couple of children saw her and pointed, causing others to look her way. She waved and with a large smile said hello and signed, “My name is Cora.” Most of the children waved back.
“The children have just finished their morning chores and will have a bite to eat before lessons begin. Would you like to jo
in them?” Mrs. Miller asked.
Cora nodded as she walked into the group, settling into a chair at a large wooden table. A servant entered, carrying a tray of cookies—“biscuits” Simon would call them.
The children sat at the tables as the servants began making the rounds, depositing a cookie for each child and filling little mugs with a ladle of milk. That’s when Cora noticed something she hadn’t expected to see. None of the children signed for the treat nor for thanking the servants.
“How do they communicate?” she asked Simon and the Millers, who were just joining her. Her heart constricted, suspecting they were being raised oral. In this time, that was the best they could do, hoping they assimilated into a world of voices.
Mrs. Miller answered, “We are teaching them to write, but it is slow going.”
“All of the children are learning to read lips,” Simon added.
Cora knew that meant they would get every few words and guess at the rest. “I’m also a teacher. May I?” She motioned toward the servant.
Simon answered, “Of course,” with a puzzled look on his face.
“Do the servants hear and speak?” Cora asked.
“Yes,” Mrs. Miller answered.
Cora approached the servant. “Withhold the cookie for a moment, please.” The woman looked toward the Millers, who nodded to her. Cora placed her hand flat like a plate, then with a cupped hand, touched her fingertips to her palm, turning, and touching the palm again. “Biscuit,” she said. Then she knelt beside a girl in a yellow dress, and with her lips at the child’s eye level, repeated the sign and said, “Biscuit.”
Next, Cora placed the child’s hand on top of hers and signed for “cookie” on the child’s palm. Her heart was so full it seemed to climb into her throat, making it feel thick. Finally, she removed her hands and encouraged the child to sign “cookie” at the same time as she did. The child’s hesitant motions were rewarded with a cookie.
Cora smiled at the child and felt her eyes must be alight with happiness. The she repeated the process with the next child, but by the time she got to the third, the child was enthusiastically signing before she could teach him. The rest of the children began signing for the little treat though some needed more support than others. The happiness she felt was near to bursting in her chest. With tears in her eyes, she stood beside Simon. She watched as the servant circulated the room again, waiting for the children to sign before setting down their second biscuit.
