Secrets in Time: Time Travel Romance

by Alison Stuart

  Knowing the habits of Alan and his comrades I said, ‘They’ll all be well into their cups by now.’

  ‘I’m still not sure that I understand why they do it,’ Nat said, ‘but their attention to detail is impressive.’

  He bent down and collected his sword and my handbag. I slung the incongruous twentieth century handbag across my shoulder as he buckled on his sword.

  He took my hand and raised it to his lips.

  ‘Come with me, Jessie. It’s time to go back.’ He caught my face in his free hand and kissed me. ‘Jessie, my witch,’ he whispered.

  We walked through the orchard, arms around each other. Nat pushed open the door in the wall and stood aside for me to enter.

  The moment I stepped through the door I knew that time had turned its circle. I recoiled into Nat’s arms, desperately scanning the surroundings for a familiar landmark. The car park had gone and the garden had disappeared. Only the house, basking in the late afternoon sun was still recognizable, except for an additional wing, the missing west wing.

  I caught my breath and turned but Nat had closed the door and stood blocking my way. I tried to go around him but he caught my arms, pulling me in close to him.

  I struggled in his grip. ‘Let me go. I don’t belong here. I have to go home.’

  He held me firmly by the forearms, looking into my eyes, willing me to trust him. ‘You can’t go back. Not yet. You are here for a reason. Grandmother was insistent. We must trust her judgment in this.’

  I shook his hands off and took a step back, looking at him as the truth of my situation dawned on me. I had been kidnapped and transported to somewhere my family and friends would never find me.

  ‘You knew? You knew when you were returning? You knew all about it?’ My accusing words sounded shrill to my own ears.

  He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Not all of it,’ he said. ‘Grandmother only told me this morning.’

  ‘But when did you speak to your grandmother?’ I stared at him in disbelief.

  If his appearance in my garden had turned my world on its head, this new development had shaken me to the core. I wanted to cry, pound my fists against his chest but most of all, I wanted to go home.

  He looked away. ‘Jessie, you will return to your own time. Trust me.’

  I rushed at him, pushing him hard enough for him to take a step away from me. ‘I don’t want to be here, Nat. I don’t want to watch you die.’

  As I pushed past him, my hand reaching for the gate, he caught me by the waist. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead.

  ‘It’s too late,’ he said. ‘The gate is shut. You can’t go back.’

  ‘But I must! I don’t belong here. This is your time.’

  He closed his eyes and took a breath. ‘And for a little while you will share it with me.’ He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look up at him. He smiled. ‘Grandmother will answer your questions in good time. She said she must speak with you.’ He released me and held out his hand, palm up. I laid my hand over his and his fingers curled over mine. ‘Now, let us make the most of what little time we have. Come and meet my family, Jessica Shepherd.’

  Chapter 6

  No Spaghetti for Dinner

  Even if I had closed my eyes as I shut the door in the orchard wall, I knew I had come home. The smell is different. Jessie the Witch’s time smells of the potions that run the motor carriages. Even here in the country it hung like a miasma in the air.

  Now I can smell the wood smoke from the kitchen and other less pleasing smells from the dog kennels and the farmyard. Strange, that I had never noticed them before. I wonder what else will not sit well with me, now I have seen another time?

  To begin with, I must explain my polled head.

  And Jessie the Witch.

  Her fingers, clasped in mine, tighten as we approach the house, betraying her fear. How do I explain this beautiful woman with her strange speech and stranger ways?

  ~*~

  Nat held my hand as we walked down a narrow path toward the house. A maid carrying a basket of washing rounded a corner of the house and seeing us, gave a sharp cry, dropping the washing in the dust. The noise drew the attention of the household and we were surrounded by men, women and children all clamoring their welcome to their lost master.

  No one spared me a second glance. In my borrowed costume I looked no different from any of the other women. I wrenched my hand free from Nat’s, seeing the plan and furious that I had allowed myself to be duped. Knowing he would return today, Nat had contrived to put us into costume. Imagine if I had arrived in his time dressed in my jeans and a t-shirt. I would probably be burned as a witch. I tried to hate him, but failed. At least I blended into the background.

  ‘Nathaniel.’ A woman’s voice cut through the noise and we all turned to the main door of the house. An elderly woman stood on the top step dressed in a heavy black gown with a stiff ruff around her neck. An old fashioned gown, even for 1645. She raised the cane she carried and brought it down on the stone step with a thud.

  ‘Welcome home, Nathaniel Preston. We have been much worried about you.’

  Nat bowed. ‘Greetings, Dame Alice.’

  Dame Alice, the cause of my current dilemma. I studied my nemesis through narrowed eyes, and she turned to me. Our gazes locked and a whisper, like the rustle of dry leaves, caught in my head.

  ‘Later, Jessica, we will talk later.’

  I must have started, as Nat turned to look at me with a frown. Now I was hearing things?

  ‘Come inside. You and your companion must be thirsty from your long journey.’

  For the first time the rest of the household turned to me with curious looks. I shifted uncomfortably from one sneaker-clad foot to the other.

  Nat looked at me and he caught my hand in his. ‘Jessie?’

  He smiled at me, his gaze holding mine. He was willing me to trust him, and in all honesty, that was all I could do. I gave a slight nod indicating I understood and would follow his cues.

  Dame Alice turned and walked into the building. Nat released my hand and I took a deep breath as we followed her up the strangely familiar steps into Heatherhill Hall.

  Nat strode into the great hall and tossed his sword on the table as if he owned it, which of course, he did.

  ‘Fetch us some ale,’ he said and took a seat at the head of the long table, his familiar position, I surmised from the familiarity with which he sprawled in it.

  I had last seen the great hall full of tourists. It seemed so strange to see it as a part of living household. A servant appeared at Nat’s elbow with a jack of ale, and a mug was offered to me. I took it for want of anything else to do, and subsided onto a bench beside Nat, while his retainers gathered around to hear his story. I too waited to hear what logical explanation he would give for his missing week.

  Dame Alice sat across the table from me. I felt her watching me and concentrated my attention on the contents of my mug.

  ‘Nathaniel! Thank the Lord you are safe.’ A young woman dressed in a green gown with lace-edged collar and cuffs of white linen entered the hall. She crossed the hall and threw her arms around his neck. ‘Where have you been? We have been so worried.’

  She placed a hand possessively on his shoulder and Nat looked around the table. ‘What was the last news you had of me?’ he asked.

  The young woman spoke again. ‘We heard a report that you had been set upon by a party of the enemy. Simmons went looking for you and found your horse shot dead. We have scoured the countryside for news of you and were in despair. ‘

  Nat set his ale down. ‘I am sorry to have caused you so much concern. The report was correct. I was pursued by the roundheads and took a wound to my arm. When my horse was shot from beneath me I was forced to run. I feared myself dead, had it not been for the kindness of this woman, Mistress Shepherd, who took me in.’ He looked at me. ‘I fear I was out of my senses for a few days but she has nursed me back to health.’ He smiled at the company and spread his
hands in a gesture that encompassed me. ‘And now, here we are.’

  Conscious that the assembled company was all looking at me, I managed a watery smile.

  ‘Mistress Jessica Shepherd, my grandmother, Dame Alice and my sister, Mary.’ Mary gave me a sharp glance and her lip curled in an expression of disdain. Nat patted her hand, and without looking at her, said, ‘Take that look off your face, Mary. I assure you Mistress Shepherd is quite the equal of you.’

  Mary’s eyes narrowed and she turned back to her brother, touching his hair. ‘Your hair...’ She looked across at me. ‘Did you crop it for the fever?’

  I scrabbled back in my memory to a history of medicine lecture. It had been a commonly held belief that long hair sapped the patient’s strength.

  ‘Err, yes,’ I agreed. ‘He was taken with wound fever.’ And would have been lucky not to die from septicemia, I thought, marveling at how far medicine had come.

  ‘You seem to have made a remarkable recovery,’ Mary kissed her brother again. ‘Mistress Shepherd, we owe you a debt of gratitude,’ the young woman said, although her expression remained wary.

  ‘We are indeed grateful to you, Mistress Shepherd, for restoring Nathaniel to us,’ Dame Alice addressed me for the first time.

  In all the time I had been in the hall, her gaze had hardly left me, and now as I looked at her, I saw where Nat had inherited his unusual gray-green eyes. She lowered her voice and said, ‘I have heard much about you and have been anxious to meet you.’

  I hoped nobody else in the room had overheard us. It would seem a strange thing to say to someone she had apparently only just met. I responded in a soft voice, holding her gaze so she could be under no illusions I was indeed who she thought I was, ‘And I you, Dame Alice.’

  She nodded and rose to her feet. ‘What matters for the moment is that you are both here and safe. Tonight we will dine well. Mary, pray take Mistress Shepherd to the best guest bedchamber and see she has all she needs. Nathaniel, you and I must talk.’

  I wanted, more than anything, to have a few words with Dame Alice, but Mary stood by the door waiting for me and I followed her from the great hall. She led me up the wide oak stairs to the west wing, the wing that no longer existed.

  ~*~

  Mary showed me to a room that, had it still been in existence in the twentieth century, would be described in a guide book as the green bedroom. The bed had been hung with green woolen curtains and an embroidered cloth covered in carefully worked patches and darns, indicating that it might already have been of some antiquity, covered the sheets.

  ‘Where did you say you were from?’ Mary inquired.

  ‘Chesham,’ I replied without thinking, and immediately wished I had said Northampton as Mary frowned.

  ‘There are no people by the name of Shepherd in Chesham, and I can tell by your voice and manner you have some gentility in your upbringing.’ She looked at me with the same sideways glance her brother used. I found the resemblance a little unnerving.

  ‘My people are from London,’ I answered with absolute truth. ‘I am but new to Chesham.’

  ‘You could have sent word that Nathaniel was with you,’ Mary said in a reproachful tone. ‘We have been frantic with worry.’

  I had to think fast. ‘Being new to the village, I did not know who he was until he recovered sufficient of his senses to inform me.’

  That seemed to satisfy her.

  ‘Shall I send someone to fetch your own possessions--that is, if you are staying?’ From her raised eyebrow it would seem she suspected my relationship with Nathaniel might be more than just that of nurse and patient.

  ‘No. I’m not staying long. I just came to make sure Nathaniel got back safely.’

  Mary sank on to the edge of the bed and looked down at her folded hands. ‘Thank you for what you have done for him. We feared the enemy had seized him. I have lost one brother and it would kill me to lose another.’

  The breath stopped in my throat. Foreknowledge was a dreadful burden, I realized.

  I sat next to her and took her hand. ‘This is a terrible war, Mary. I fear there will be many more deaths before it is over.’

  A large tear slipped down her cheek and she dashed it away impatiently. ‘Has Nathaniel told you about my...my beloved?’ I shook my head.

  ‘Robert took up arms for Parliament with our brother, Richard. They had been boon companions since childhood. Now Richard is dead and Robert...’ She sniffed, ‘I fear I will never see him again.’

  I had no knowledge of this relationship and felt grateful for the ignorance, but if Robert survived the war, there stood a good chance that he, being on the winning side, would come for his sweetheart. The family would need such allies in the years to come.

  ‘You and Nathaniel?’ she ventured. ‘I saw the way he looked at you and I don’t understand how such a thing has come to pass in so short a time.’

  ‘Mistress Preston,’ I said, remembering my seventeenth-century manners. ‘In war, there is no time for the niceties of courtship.’

  A smile quirked her lips. ‘Well, I am pleased for him, if he has found love at last. Dear Anne, God rest her, was not his equal. They would have made each other very unhappy.’ Mary rose and straightened her skirts. ‘You must be tired after your long walk from Chesham. I will leave you to get settled. You may stow your sack in the chest.’ She indicated my brown leather handbag, which I carried still slung over my shoulder.

  With an elegant twitch of her skirts, she left the room

  I sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at my sneakers. I wondered what I looked like and if I appeared strange to these people. I could see no mirror in the room, so I unhooked my handbag and scrabbled in it for my small mirror.

  The reflection in the tiny glass gave me no reassurance. I might as well have been dropped into the Amazon jungle. As I replaced the mirror, I reflected that if Nat had survived the twentieth century, I would survive the seventeenth. I just hoped I would not be stuck here forever, after he...after he... I screwed my eyes shut, took a deep, steadying breath and tried not to think about Nat’s fate.

  A firm rap on the door startled me out of my reverie. I jumped to my feet and my handbag went flying, strewing its contents across the wooden floor. Without waiting for a response, Nat entered the room. He looked down on me as I scrabbled under the bed trying to find the stray lipsticks, mints and the inevitable loose change that rattled around in the bottom of my bag.

  ‘That is a tempting sight.’ He patted me playfully on my well padded rear end.

  I stood and turned to face him. He moved toward me with a smile I had come to recognize. My pulse began to quicken and a warm glow spread through my stomach as he pulled me toward him. ‘I can’t wait to unlace that bodice,’ he whispered. ‘And of course, there are other advantages to skirts...’

  He slowly pulled up my skirts and ran his fingers along my thigh, leaving a trail of fire. His mouth curled in a smile as he snapped the elastic of my underwear. ‘What are you wearing?’

  ‘A good, solid pair of Marks and Spencers best knickers,’ I replied, wagging a finger in his face. ‘I may know underwear is not in common use for another two hundred years but I am not a complete philistine.’

  He laughed and released my skirts. They fell in heavy folds, brushing the tops of my sneakers.

  ‘Later then, Mistress Shepherd, you can demonstrate the virtues of Marks and Spencers best knickers. Now, let me escort you downstairs for supper. My grandmother has ensured a welcome home feast tonight. A lamb has been slaughtered.’

  ‘No spaghetti?’

  He smiled. ‘No spaghetti.’

  ~*~

  The great hall, lit only by candles, pulsed with chatter and the comings and goings of the servants. Seeing it so alive reminded me this had once been a home, not a museum. Twenty people sat down to eat at the long table, and the presence of the officers of Nat’s regiment was a stark reminder this was not just Nat’s home but an army garrison now.

  I
had been to dinners put on by Alan’s regiment so I tried to imagine myself among Alan’s drinking mates, but found it hard. I had been seated well away from Nat at the far end of the table with the women of the house. In 1645, I inhabited a man’s world.

  The talk turned to the war, and from the grim look on the men’s faces, I concluded the social part of the evening had ended and it was time for the war to recommence.

  Dame Alice rose and announced that the ladies would leave the gentlemen to their deliberations. Mary excused herself to retire to her bedchamber and I would have done likewise, but Dame Alice took my arm and steered me into a private parlor. It might have been the black gown or the stiffness of her ruff, but I had no desire to cross Dame Alice.

  She shut the door behind her and seated herself in a straight-backed chair, gesturing for at a similar chair. I had imagined Dame Alice as some sort of sorceress from the movies, dressed in flowing robes with a tall, pointed hat, accompanied by a black cat. As I sat across from her, I realized I had not expected a stiff little person in an old fashioned gown--an ordinary woman.

  As she seemed in no hurry to speak, I took advantage of her silence to get in first. ‘I don’t know how you have managed this, Dame Alice, but send us back.’

  She raised an iron-gray eyebrow. ‘Us?’

  ‘I’m not leaving here without Nat.’

  Her implacable countenance did not change. ‘Mistress Shepherd, you know Nat’s future.’

  I slumped in the chair. ‘If he stays here he is going to die,’ I whispered.

  Her face, so like her grandson’s in the light of the fire, did not appear to show any emotion but a slight movement of the ruff betrayed a tightening of her throat. This hint of humanity gave me some measure of relief, and I continued. ‘I can’t change history, Dame Alice. Nat dies in two days and his son inherits the estate. It’s written in the books, and it’s carved in stone in the chapel.’

  She looked up at me. ‘Have some patience, Mistress Shepherd. All is not as you think it. You will understand when the time comes.’