Time Weaver

by Jacinta Maree

  “A young lady such as yourself shouldn’t be this upset over a gun. It’s not decent.” Harry chuckled as he sat down to join her. “I’m thankful no one was hurt.”

  “We’re away from the snobs of Divin Cadeau, decency doesn’t matter anymore. It has already been a week since the break in. Does it normally take this long?”

  “We have to trust the police officers to do their job. Even if they can’t find them, there’ll be another way to get your belongings back.” Elizabeth didn’t exactly share in Harry’s trust in authorities, but her sulking wasn’t helping the situation either. She glanced over at Harry’s sister, Doris, napping on the recliner to ensure she wasn’t eavesdropping.

  “What do you think about all this Time Collector business, Harry?”

  “I’m sure the opinion of an old goat like me isn’t worth discussing.”

  “Of course your opinion matters. Matter of fact, you may be the only one I can talk to freely about such things.”

  Harry gently smiled. “I could never keep up with Sir Wicker’s adventures. I’m afraid my attention never moved away from the dusting.”

  “Do you know why my father was interested in hunting the Time Collectors in the first place?”

  “I’m afraid Sir Wicker never shared such views with me. For as long as I was employed with him, he always had an interest in them.”

  “And Klaus? How did they even meet?”

  “To my knowledge, they had met each other years ago by accident. Sir Wicker hadn’t thought twice about him until it became apparent a Time Collector was in the Golden City, a corrupted one. That’s when Sir Wicker sought Klaus out. They trusted each other completely.”

  “You sound like you don’t trust him?” Elizabeth nestled back into her chair.

  “He’s too cunning for a man like me. I could never understand what was going on in that boy’s mind. A Time Collector hunting other Time Collectors—something smells fishy.”

  Elizabeth hummed her agreement. “Despite everything, they are fascinating people. If you had the choice, would you make a contract with a Time Collector?”

  Harry snorted out a laugh. “I’m afraid, dear, I wouldn’t have any time left to afford a tissue to blow my nose.”

  “Okay,” Elizabeth chuckled softly, redirecting her question. “Say, in your younger years, if you came across a man who could grant you wishes, would you do it?”

  Harry stared at her for a long, hard minute, the sketchy voices of the radio a gentle hum behind him. Doris turned her head down in her snores. “I would have, in a heartbeat.”

  “What would you have wished for?”

  “To save my wife from her illness.”

  Elizabeth’s smile quickly dropped. Harry’s eyes glanced down as he lifted his teacup to drink. There was a hint of sadness there, but was quickly overshadowed by a warm smile. “I’m so sorry.” Elizabeth reached out to touch his arm.

  “No, it’s quite okay. It happened a very long time ago.” His hand trembled, accidentally tipping his tea over the table. Elizabeth bolted upwards and grabbed a napkin, patting the cloth dry. “I’m so clumsy. I’m so sorry, Miss Wicker. Please, let me clean it. You don—”

  “You don’t work for me, Harry. I’m more than capable of looking after myself and help mop up some spilt tea. Doctor Wicker had his rules and traditions. I understand that but,” Elizabeth eased back down, touching the family crest on her collar necklace, “I was not brought up as a noble girl, and I sure as hell aren’t going to be treated like one now.”

  “Does that mean you don’t need me at the mansion?”

  She briskly shook her head. “You’re not losing your job, but we are going to start losing some of these traditions. For instance, I can cook and clean too. You don’t have to escort me everywhere and you don’t have to address me as Miss Wicker. Elizabeth is just fine. You can start taking days off too. You work way too hard.”

  Harry shook his head weakly. “I can’t do that.”

  “That’s an order.” She grinned. “You shouldn’t spend your life only thinking about the dusting.” She gave him a playful nudge. “I want you to laugh more. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a smile on your face.”

  Harry touched her hand kindly, his slack frown lifting at the corners. “As should you, Miss Wicker.”

  Elizabeth replied with a weak smile of her own, “I’ll be a lot happier after tonight is over and done with.”

  “You don’t have to go.”

  “Unfortunately, I do, but I’m going to be a lot more careful this time around.” She lifted her leg to reveal the kitchen knife strapped in her thigh garter. Harry, suddenly embarrassed, quickly looked away. “I won’t be satisfied until I see pee running down his expensive trousers.”

  “Please don’t do anything dangerous. Sir Wicker would haunt me beyond the grave.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Sir Wicker had acted far more dangerously than I.”

  “Just promise me you’ll be safe.”

  “I promise.” She pushed back her chair. “I am of Wicker blood, but born in a Blackmore’s life. I can definitely handle myself.”

  Chapter Nineteen:

  The celebrations to the Red Moon Festival started early, kicking off around six o’clock. As Elizabeth made her way toward the Beaumont’s, the calls of “Happy Red Moon!” scented the air with wine and smoke. She was still fresh from her mourning and thus, wasn’t in the partying mood. When she finally arrived at the governor’s house, Elizabeth stopped outside the gates to take a few deep breaths. The Beaumont mansion was, as expected, an impressive palace with sand yellow brick gates guarding the four-storey high structure.

  She had been inside the manor once when she was a simple cleaning maid, before she was welcomed as a student at the academy. She was only nine years old at the time. It had been the first-time Arthur had seen her too. He had been cruel back then as well. He threw pencils at her, smeared dirt over the freshly washed floor and even tried to make her eat dog food. Blessings come in many shapes, sometimes in the moments of misfortunates. Elizabeth being fired that day for distracting the young master sent her to the academy, sent her to William Wicker. And to think the next time she was to enter the Beaumont estate she would be a noble woman belonging to the Wicker household was almost laughable.

  She was greeted by their older maid, who politely bowed and stepped to the side to let Elizabeth in. If she hadn’t grown accustomed to William’s exquisite lifestyle, she would’ve fallen over in absolute awe at the Beaumont mansion. A chrome statue of Harold Beaumont welcomed from the front foyer, standing straight with his arms posed at his hips and his expression lost behind the polished copper. Elizabeth had to take a few steps back, completely caught off guard by the giant monument. The statue’s jaw unhinged in mimicked speech, but no words came out. Funny, if it was Arthur, it would be twice the size. Elizabeth thought. And probably vomit insults.

  The maid left to fetch Arthur, leaving Elizabeth anxiously at the door. She wondered around the large foyer, stopping to admire the artworks and statues when something caught her eye. The door leading into a formal study was left ajar. Inside the office, a large mirror faced her on the opposite side of the wall, reflecting a distinguished glow of gold from an object sitting on the mantel piece. Harold Beaumont paced inside, barking into the phone, but was too distracted to notice her head poking around the door frame.

  But there it was. The golden pistol. It’s curved handle, golden coat, and distinguished shape was a dead giveaway. Elizabeth paused, her eyebrows towed in confusion. The notion was almost ridiculous, but the harder she looked the more she was convinced.

  “Miss Wicker?” A voice called for her. Elizabeth rushed back to her place by the front door, just in time to catch Lady Claudia peer from over the second-floor railing. She hadn’t seen Lady Claudia since her father’s funeral, and before, their only interaction was when her butler had grabbed Elizabeth’s sleeve at the gala.

  She awkwardly curtsied as she greeted the lady. “Lad
y Claudia. Happy Red Moon Day.”

  “To you as well, dear. I’m afraid Arthur has been called out on business so he won’t be joining you tonight.” Lady Claudia glided down the curved staircase, revealing the gorgeous full-length dress that popped with blood red and jewels. Elizabeth’s chest deflated with relief.

  “Another time then, my lady.”

  “How about I escort you instead?”

  Anxiety jumped back up in her throat. Lady Claudia reached the bottom of the steps and reached out, gently taking Elizabeth’s hand. The waft of rosemary perfume followed her gentle gesture. “It’s such a wonderful night and I know you don’t have anyone else beside that butler of yours to spend it with. Come with me. We’ll go down together.”

  “I appreciate your kindness, but it’s not necessary—”

  “Nonsense, it’ll be fun.” She reached over and gently stroked the crest on Elizabeth’s choker. “It looks so fitting on you, my dear, a true Wicker. We miss your father dearly.”

  “I miss him too. Thank you.”

  “Come, the night is still young and they’ll be starting the fireworks soon.”

  Everything Elizabeth had ever heard about Lady Claudia was wrong. She hooked her arm through Elizabeth’s as they walked down the streets and into the park where most of the celebration was happening. Down in central park, the festival was already in full swing. All the noblewomen wore their most glamourous frocks, with an arrangement of flowers teased through their hair and hats. The men armored up their sleeves and trousers in chrome casings. Each showing off their latest new gadgets. Above their heads, among the popping of the fireworks, chrome statues dressed as metal angels paraded around on stilts. They moved on springs, bouncing between each step as their large wings flapped. They tossed candy out to the gathering children.

  Around the outskirts of the park, vendors set up their booths selling charms and trinkets, playing arcade games and apple bobbing, dancing to music and watching magicians entertaining for coin. Overhead blimps shaped like large beetles hovered just above-head height, their bellies casting rainbow lights over the stars and moon.

  Locals clapped, danced and jumped about each other, linking arms and chasing the large beetle blimps with rackets as though to swap them down. Elizabeth rattled her head, thinking she was dreaming. In the Pitts, the Red Moon festival didn’t mean much more than an extra glass of wine with dinner. The biggest difference may have been the drunks were drunk an hour earlier. It appeared not everyone was accustomed to Elizabeth’s new status either. Most avoided eye contact, unsure how to greet her as she passed. Some of the more prestigious families were more forward in their unpleasantness.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Elizabeth asked after she got the upturned nose from the Hemmingway’s.

  “Oh, don’t worry about them. Some people just like to gossip.” Lady Claudia smiled.

  “About me?”

  “Absolutely, your story is fascinating. It’s as though it’s written out of a children’s storybook. Ordinary servant girl suddenly becomes one of the richest women overnight, all because her wealthy father dies mysteriously, leaving everything to you, his sole heir. Some are calling it a cover up.”

  Elizabeth stopped walking. “They think I murdered Doctor Wicker for his money?”

  Lady Claudia slowed only enough to speak over her shoulder. “Many would, but as I said, darling, it’s just rumours. There’s no weight behind them, now is there? Come, have you met the Grovedales?” She pulled Elizabeth along before introducing her to the oldest noble couple of their district. She curtsied and greeted them kindly as they greeted her back. “They’ve been together for over sixty-two years, you know?” Lady Claudia informed as they started their leisurely walk again. “It’s common for girls as young as seventeen to wed. I already assume your marital situation has been taken care of.”

  “My marital situation?” Elizabeth slowed.

  “Yes. For a suitable husband, of course. Dear me, don’t tell me your father didn’t organise one for you?” Elizabeth shook her head. Lady Claudia’s lips twitched as though trying to suppress a smile. “You’re practically an old woman now. No one will want to marry you.” The notion of marriage was a worry Elizabeth no longer had. Now, she had a count down. Three years. No one would want a wife for only three years. Lady Claudia continued, “I’m thinking of your well-being. You know I’ve always seen you as the daughter I never had.”

  Unable to stop herself, Elizabeth jerked her head back. I’m the daughter she never had? It was hard to believe Lady Claudia had ever thought of her as a human being let alone a daughter.

  Lady Claudia stepped closer, unclipping her own bracelet and holding it against Elizabeth’s wrist. “Oh, yes, doesn’t the Beaumont crest just glow against your skin?”

  Elizabeth froze. There was no way Lady Claudia was hinting at her wanting to marry Elizabeth into the family, right? To only confirm her worst fears, Lady Claudia reached over and swept a loose strand of white hair behind Elizabeth’s ear. “I’ve noticed you’ve taken quite a shining to my Arthur. Can’t say that I am surprised, a girl with your ambitions would only have her eyes set on the best.”

  Without any self-control, Elizabeth flinched away from Lady Claudia’s touch, repulsed by the notion of marrying Arthur Beaumont. “I’m sorry, but you are mistaken. I don’t have any affection toward Arthur Beaumont.”

  Lady Claudia tensed for a moment, her internal glow suddenly darkening. “Pardon me?”

  “I mean no disrespect. I don’t feel like I’m ready for marriage,” Elizabeth quickly corrected herself.

  Lady Claudia’s lips distastefully curled. “I see. Well, only Timothy is groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps and he is promised to an important businessman’s daughter. Someone born of true nobility. Unfortunately, Wicker blood is not enough to subdue that of a whore’s.” Her smile stretched, delighted by Elizabeth’s verbal beating. “You have no one left who cares about you, child. I wouldn’t start being too picky to those willing to burden themselves with your company.”

  Elizabeth grit her jaw. The name whore was thrown at her mother one too many times. Coming from Lady’s Claudia’s mouth, and spoken with such disgrace, was too much. “My mother was the greatest person I’ve ever known, far greater than any noble pure blood. She had strength, brilliance, courage, and decency, which I’m lacking to find with any company here.”

  The crack of fireworks sounded above them, lighting Lady Claudia’s face in neon red. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them before grabbing Elizabeth’s arm roughly enough her fingernails cut skin. She yanked her downward, pulling Elizabeth’s off balance. “Tread lightly. I’ve had people disposed of for far less! Don’t you know what happens to pretty little girls when they are left alone?”

  “Is that a threat?” Elizabeth pulled against her grip.

  “A warning. Despite many protests, in the eyes of the law you are now technically a Wicker. A flaw I intend to take full advantage of. Don’t start believing this is anything more than a power play.”

  “A power play?” Elizabeth repeated.

  Lady Claudia let her grip go and turned back toward the festivals. “A pawn, in my game of chess. And like them all, your only purpose is to guard the queen.”

  #

  Everything Elizabeth had ever heard about Lady Claudia was correct. Manipulative. Cruel. Cold. Lady Claudia may have plans for Elizabeth, but Elizabeth had her own plans with the Beaumonts. Plans that included breaking into a certain empty house to retrieve her stolen gun. With Lady Claudia’s dismissal, Elizabeth made her way back toward the Beaumont estate.

  “Why did I wear such a ridiculous dress?” Elizabeth pulled at the length of her skirt, grumbling as it tripped her up.

  She took the knife from her garter and sliced the dress up from her ankles to her thigh. She then tied her skirt into a giant knot behind her. She stripped out of her tight blazer, dressing down to a simple white blouse underneath. She then heaved herself up the
wall of the stone gate and slipped over the top. Quietly, she snuck up to the house before pressing her body against the chilled brick building. Noise of the distant festivities helped mask the scrunch the dried leaves beneath her shoes. Sharing the shadows, she pressed against the walls before craning her neck to chance a look inside the windows. Inside, it was dark in its vacancy. She pushed her face against the window and cupped her hands over her eyes to block the moonlight out. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see the pistol.

  She ran her fingers along the windowsill’s edge and pried her nails underneath the wood to hoist it up. It lifted slightly, enough to squeeze the tip of her finger underneath, but nothing more. There was a locked hitched on the other side. Elizabeth took the knife out and slipped it through the gap. Successfully, the pin lifted, unlocking the window and allowing her to heave the frame above her head. She couldn’t reach the top panel, and without constant support, the window threatened to slam shut so she wedged her blade in the gap to act as a support beam. Hoisting herself up onto her stomach, she crawled through, easing her butt and legs onto the ground after her before rolling back onto her feet. The floorboards groaned beneath her weight. She halted. Glancing around, it was almost impossible to see anything beyond arm length. Slipping out of her shoes, she crept on, the creak now much softer.

  Her eyes adjusted to the weak moonlight catching on the edge of objects, when a cough startled her. She swung around, accidentally knocking a vase from the table that shattered across the ground. A tall silhouette stood by the door. She couldn’t see much, just a faint outline of his shoulders and head.