by Bess McBride
“Well, I don’t know if I turned him down exactly. I don’t think he asked me a question, but I did tell him that…” Mattie hesitated. Surely she could leave without disparaging their lifestyle any further.
“Yes?”
“I told him I had to return home.”
Sylvie’s smile drooped. “Oh, dear. Poor William. I cannot imagine. I believe he is quite enamored of you.”
Mattie set her teacup down with a clatter, jumped up and began to pace.
“Sylvie, that’s just impossible. There are so many other eligible women around here. He doesn’t even know me.”
“He must feel he does, Mattie, else he would never have committed himself to you.”
“He can’t commit to me!” Mattie paused and stared. “He can’t. I have to go.”
Sylvie rose and took Mattie’s agitated hands in hers. “Please calm yourself, Mattie. I understand, and I apologize if I have added to your concerns. I wish only for William’s happiness, and for yours. Is there no chance they can be achieved by the same means? There must be a reason you came to us when you did. It cannot simply be a random happenstance.”
Mattie slumped back down onto the settee. “I know, Sylvie. I keep thinking the same thing. It’s not that I don’t think I wasn’t meant to meet William, but…” Again Mattie hesitated. It had seemed much easier to screech at William that she couldn’t live in his time than it was to say to tenderhearted Sylvie.
“But?” Sylvie sat down beside her.
“All I can say is that I have to go home, Sylvie. I can’t stay. I wish I could explain, but I can’t.”
Sylvie patted her hand again. “Of course, you must be homesick. I understand, and I am sure that William does as well. He would not ask you to leave the only life you have ever known.”
Mattie shook her head but remained silent.
Sylvie turned to eye the clock on the mantle. “You would do well to rest this afternoon. You are coming to the ball this evening, are you not? Please say you will, Mattie!”
Mattie, feeling exhausted by the onslaught of emotions, nodded.
“Good! I shall leave you now. Jane will bring you something of mine to wear.”
Sylvie kissed her on the cheek and left the room quietly.
Mattie thought she would scream if she heard one more knock on the door, and yet, she longed to hear William’s tap, knowing it would never come.
****
How Mattie got through the ball that night, she would never know. Jane had delivered a beautiful white silk gown with a lace overlay and royal blue ribbons, which Mattie thought probably suited the younger Sylvie better. The carriage ride to the Covington’s home with a silent and distant William had been excruciating. He had been unfailingly polite, but avoided her eyes like a stranger on a bus. Mattie mourned the loss of her best friend in this century, and she wondered what her life would be like when she returned to her own century. One thing was certain: she wouldn’t be able to return to her dreams of Lord Ashton of Sinclair House anymore. That romantic nonsense was now lost to her, and she was faced with stark reality of the historic details of daily living that the novel conveniently glossed over.
She had never even been to another house before. Where did one go to the bathroom? Did they have a guest privy? Guest chamber pots? She didn’t want to know, and determined to avoid the matter until she returned to Ashton House.
From under her lashes, Mattie studied William, sitting across the coach. Dashing in a top hat, black cutaway coat, silver vest and black knee breeches, she thought she could happily stay with him—if only they at least had running water and electricity. Her needs and can’t-do-withouts seemed to diminish the closer he came to leaving.
Mattie hadn’t been inside the ballroom of the Covington’s home for more than a few moments before she started thinking about pleading a headache, but she couldn’t very well do that to the family again. The logistics of sending her home in a carriage and then returning for the family seemed unfair to the Sinclairs. She didn’t want to dance, didn’t know how to dance and felt generally tired of trying to pretend to be someone she wasn’t.
With a glass of punch in her hand, she stood by Mrs. Sinclair and watched Sylvie dancing. William had disappeared from sight. Mrs. Sinclair’s attention was claimed by Lord Hamilton on her right.
“You look to be under the weather, Miss Crockwell. Are you feeling quite well?” She looked up, startled to see Stephen Carver at her side. She could have rolled her eyes. Stephen was the one person she probably had to be the most diligent at fooling.
“Just tired, Mr. Carver.”
“I cannot place your accent, Miss Crockwell. It does not remind me of New York. Did you grow up there?”
Mattie sighed. Why couldn’t anyone just leave her alone? At least in her time, she could just wander away casually from an unwanted conversation and hide in the bathroom if necessary. That wasn’t going to happen!
“No, I didn’t.” She realized she’d slipped on a contraction but hardly cared.
“If I may be so bold, Miss Crockwell, I think there is something quite unusual about you, even for an American. At the risk of sounding enigmatic, let me say that if you need a countryman to confide in, please allow me to be at your service.” Stephen had leaned in and lowered his voice. At that moment, William came into sight and saw Stephen leaning toward her. He stilled, with narrowed, glittering eyes before turning away abruptly and disappearing into the crowd again.
Mattie could have cried, but she bit down hard on her lip to the point where she tasted blood.
“Miss Crockwell! You are bleeding. Here!” Stephen handed her his handkerchief, and Mattie grabbed it and dabbed at her lip.
“Thank you, Stephen.” She turned to look at Mrs. Sinclair, still involved in conversation with Lord Hamilton. She lowered her voice. “Look, you’re right. I don’t have a New York accent. I’m from the west. It’s complicated, and I can’t explain it, but trust me, I am American. And I actually do need someone to confide in.”
Stephen threw a glance in Mrs. Sinclair’s direction and bowed. “What can I do?” he asked simply.
“Is there a way we can talk privately? The thing is, I need to leave Ashton House. I’m not due to return to the States—America—for three weeks, but I just don’t think I can stay there.”
She watched a myriad of expressions cross Stephen’s face, from confusion to wariness to suspicion to sympathy.
“Has William offended you in some way, Miss Crockwell?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. He’s great!” She smiled crookedly in the general direction of the ballroom, unsure of William’s exact location. “I just need to talk to someone whom I can trust and who doesn’t have a vested interest in what I do. That would be you, I think.”
Stephen tilted his head and regarded her but nodded. “I am honored you consider me so. I fear it is difficult to think of somewhere we might speak in private, Miss Crockwell. English customs are much more strict than ours in America, as you know. Do you have a trusted maid who might accompany us on a walk in the garden if I call upon you tomorrow?”
Mattie thought of Jane. “Yes, but won’t Mrs. Sinclair and Sylvie insist on walking with us, from what I’ve seen?”
“Fortunately, my aunt is due to visit Mrs. Sinclair tomorrow. Meet me in the garden at noon with your maid. It seems somewhat clandestine, but I think we will manage to avoid scandal if we are discovered. Surely, they must understand you and I wish to exchange some talk of our mutual homeland. I certainly have mentioned it before.”
“Noon,” Mattie said in a quiet voice. Stephen bowed and moved away. By noon, William would probably be gone. Would she feel like talking to anyone about anything? And what had she hoped for when she spontaneously asked to talk to Stephen in private? He couldn’t buy her a ticket home. Even if he did, it would be to the wrong century!
The rest of the night stretched endlessly. Mattie turned down offers to dance, and hovered near Mrs. Sinclair. Sylvie popped b
y occasionally to urge her to dance, but Mattie declined. Lord Hamilton’s sons attempted to fetch her drinks, but she turned down their offers and coughed as if she had a cold. William did not approach her, not once. She saw him occasionally on the other side of the room. He danced with Louisa Covington only once, she noticed, and appeared to keep to himself for the rest of the evening. She felt as if she were making his life miserable, and she missed the smile on his face.
William continued to keep his eyes averted from her even on the way home. He said nothing as they descended the carriage, only bowing before turning away. Mattie thought at the moment that she could have done without electricity to bring a smile back to his face. But the prospect of chamber pots for the rest of her life brought her up short from her fantasy of begging William to take her back, if indeed he had ever taken her in the beginning.
Chapter Fourteen
Mattie rose early to the sound of horse’s hooves on the ground below. She ran to the window just in time to see William mount his horse and ride away, disappearing in the morning mist down the drive.
She’d suspected he would leave without saying goodbye, but the awful reality of it almost took her breath away, so painful was the feeling. In tears, she slumped to her knees at the foot of the window, hugging herself and rocking back and forth. Vague images of the memory of his cold eyes and flat expression from the night before tore at her heart.
Now, more then ever, she felt she had to leave the house, but the idea terrified her. To be out amongst the general populace of 1825 without a protector—a woman alone in the early nineteenth century? The idea that William would no longer be around to protect her terrified her just as badly.
She allowed Jane to serve her toast and tea in her bedroom, and then dressed with Jane’s help in a lovely pale yellow dress of Sylvie’s just before noon.
“Jane, I need your help.”
“What can I do, Miss Crockwell?” Jane asked as she finished dressing Mattie’s hair.
“I need you to come with me to the garden. I have to take a walk, and I need a chaperone.”
“Of course, miss, I can accompany you. But a chaperone?” Jane gave her a worried look.
“Well, you’ll find out anyway, but I’m going to meet Mr. Stephen Carver.”
Jane’s eyes rounded, and her hand stilled as she set a pin in Mattie’s hair.
“Miss, are you sure? That doesn’t sound quite—”
“Proper, I know. Well, it’s okay. We’re just going to talk about America, and we can speak to each other without the more formal restrictions of Georgian society there. I hope you don’t mind. You won’t get in trouble, will you?”
Jane shook her head. “No, miss. I do not think so. Mrs. Bailey said I should attend you.”
“Good! Are we ready?”
“Yes, miss.”
Mattie made it down to the garden only moments before noon, when Mrs. Brookfield and Stephen were expected to arrive. She hoped Mrs. Sinclair or Sylvie wouldn’t come looking for her to attend a house call.
She wasn’t sure where in the garden Stephen might think to find her, so she headed over to the formal gardens on the side of the house facing away from the drawing room, and she sent Jane over to the front of the house as a lookout so the maid could let Stephen know where she was.
Tippy-toeing around such a massive estate was presenting itself as a complex task, and she wasn’t sure she had the imaginative creativity to handle it. What she would give to be able to text Stephen on her cell phone at the moment, or even William for that matter, just to let him know she thought of him and to ask him to understand and forgive her.
She wandered through the gardens, nervous about being in full view of anyone in the house except those on the front side such as the drawing room. Jane hurried back within ten minutes.
“I am certain that Mr. Carver saw me as he descended the carriage,” she said. “I gestured in this direction, and I believe he understood the message. He nodded before he handed Lady Brookfield down.”
“Thank you, Jane!” Mattie said. “Let’s sit for a moment.” She seated herself on a bench. “What I have to say to Mr. Carver is private, though, so…” Mattie looked at the maid with a cheesy smile.
“I shall stay out of hearing but within view, miss,” Jane said.
“You’re a pal, Jane, you really are.”
Jane scrunched her forehead inquiringly, but at that moment, Stephen came into view. He strode confidently across the lawn, not appearing in the least concerned whether he was discovered. With a nod to Jane, he tipped his hat to Mattie as he approached her and took a seat. Jane moved away to wander the paths.
“Alone at last,” Stephen said with a pleasant smile.
“Please don’t get the wrong idea, Stephen,” Mattie warned.
“Not at all, Miss Crockwell. At any rate, my interests are fixed, as I think are yours.”
Mattie thought she understood what he meant.
“You mean Louisa Covington?”
Stephen jerked his head in her direction and nodded sheepishly.
“Am I so transparent?”
“Yes, you are, actually,” Mattie smiled. “How does she feel about you?”
He looked down as if to study the ground. “I am not certain. Marriage to me would involve a very long journey. I enjoy England, but America is my home and where I wish to live. That I have fallen in love with an Englishwoman is ironic.” He looked at her quickly and straightened. “But we are not here to discuss my affairs. How may I assist you, Miss Crockwell?”
Now that the moment was here, Mattie was reluctant to tell Stephen about the time traveling. There was always a danger that someone would haul her away.
She looked down at her hands, lacing and unlacing her fingers together.
“I need to leave this house, to find somewhere to live for the next three weeks, but I can’t tell you why.” She looked up at him with a hopeful expression. “I wondered if you had any ideas. I’m absolutely penniless—in fact, the clothes on my back were loaned to me by Sylvie.”
Stephen reared his head back with a startled look. “Penniless? And no clothes of your own? Goodness, Miss Crockwell, what has befallen you?”
“Would you believe I stowed away aboard a ship? That I’m actually from the working class in the United States?” Mattie thought the stowing-away part was very clever.
“A stowaway? I cannot imagine how arduous that must have been. And why would you wish to stowaway aboard a vessel to come to England?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she shrugged. “A silly idea.”
Stephen regarded her with a puzzled face. “I must confess, Miss Crockwell, that your tale lacks a certain…conviction. And you tell me that you must leave the house, but cannot say why, for three weeks.”
Mattie’s cheeks burned. It was difficult being called a liar, especially when she was one.
“I know, I’m sorry, but I really can’t tell you much of the truth. What I can tell you is that I have fallen in love with William, and I really can’t, so I have to leave.”
“That is certainly frank, Miss Crockwell. From what I have seen, I think William may share your affections. Why must you leave? I was under the impression from your conversation last night that he had done nothing to offend you. Has the family discovered your situation, your status, and asked you to leave?”
“No, they actually know about me and have taken care of me. And they know I have to leave in three weeks. Oh, gosh, listen to me. They sound perfect! How could I walk out on them without so much as a thanks?”
“I am certain you would thank them, Miss Crockwell, but I must admit I still do not understand the dilemma. However, if you feel you must leave, I can loan you the necessary funds to travel to and secure quarters in Southampton until the sailing of your ship. I do so with misgiving, Miss Crockwell, as it is not at all proper, nor safe for you to travel alone either to Southampton or back to America. Is there no other recourse?”
Mattie colored at his offer o
f money, but frankly, that was probably just what she needed most. Money and courage. The idea of hanging out in Southampton, wherever that might be, didn’t appeal to her. She felt she was only digging herself deeper in a time-traveling hole.
“Oh, gosh, Stephen. What a generous offer, but the thing is, I’m not going to Southampton. Please don’t ask me to explain. I can’t.” Mattie winced under his look of confusion. What was she thinking? She didn’t even know what she wanted from the man.
“You know what? This was a mistake.” Mattie rose hastily. “I shouldn’t have pulled you into this. That was silly of me. I’ll be fine here.”
Stephen jumped up to join her, and took her hands in his. “Please forgive me if I have failed you in any way, Miss Crockwell. It is my desire to assist you, but you have not told me what I could do to help.”
“I know. You’ve been great.” Mattie almost hugged him but remembered where she was and pulled back. She gently withdrew her hands. “Because I can’t explain, it makes everything more difficult. I’m just a foolish girl in love with the wrong man at the wrong time, and I’m trying to run from it, instead of just survive it. That’s probably the crux of the matter. I need to just buck up and deal with it. This won’t last forever.” She sighed and looked toward the house.
“If there is anything you think I can do to help you, Miss Crockwell, please let me know. Short of inviting you to stay with my aunt, which would be thought unusual and would elicit comment, I do not know how else I could remove you from the house. I understand the pain of unrequited love, Miss Crockwell, though as I mentioned I did not think that was the case between you and William.”
“Have you ever told Louisa how you felt? Asked her if she would consider moving to America with you?”
“No, I have not.” Stephen grimaced as he looked down at the ground. “I did not wish to ask that which might make her unhappy.”
“You’ll never know unless you ask, Stephen,” Mattie said. “I could find out how she feels. I don’t want to worry you, but I think some folks plan for her to marry William.”
Stephen’s head shot up. “Ah! So you have heard. I did not wish to mention it to you and thought perhaps that might be the reason you wished to leave.” He frowned. “I am not at all certain William shares that hope. How could he if he is enamored of you?”
