by Bess McBride
“No, I’m sorry, I wish I could, but William is calling me.” Mattie rose swiftly and moved toward William.
“Well played, my dear,” William said quietly as she sprinted to his side. “I stand in awe of your skills.” They watched as Stephen took a seat beside Louisa and she poured him a cup of tea.
“Thank you. I’ve always been a bit of a matchmaker. Did it all the time in high school. Made up for never being able to get a date myself.”
Mattie looked up to see William staring at her with a perplexed expression.
“I do not have the faintest idea what you said, my love, but if you are suggesting you had few suitors when you were in the schoolroom, I should certainly hope that was the case.”
Mattie shook her head with a smile and turned to watch her handiwork as the couple spoke together.
****
Their engagement was announced a week later, a week in which Mattie reveled in William’s company on drives, horseback rides, picnics and walks—always with a chaperone, either Sylvie or Jane, but occasionally with Louisa and Stephen as their courtship progressed. In that week, Mattie had studied Sylvie around Thomas as well, and she concluded that the key to Sylvie and Thomas’ happiness was for Sylvie to do as Louisa did—accompany Thomas to America. She wondered, though, how Mrs. Sinclair might take the loss of her only daughter.
She tucked her hand in William’s arm as they followed the foursome of Sylvie, Thomas, Louisa and Stephen around the path by the lake after a picnic one day. Sylvie seemed to have relented and walked beside Thomas, but they continued to behave as strangers.
“William, you agree with me that Sylvie and Thomas are in love, don’t you?”
“Yes, my dear, I do.” William smiled and looked down at Mattie’s upturned face.
“What if the solution for them was for Sylvie to go with Thomas on his adventures? What if she, like Louisa, agreed to accompany Thomas to America? How would your mother take that?”
William looked toward the foursome ahead of them and sighed.
“Not very well, I am afraid. She would miss Sylvie terribly. Additionally, there is the issue of grandchildren. Would they grow up English or as Americans?”
“Not to mention she wouldn’t get to see them very often,” Mattie murmured. “Does it matter whether they grow up English or American? Are we really so different?”
“Not in my opinion, but I believe my mother feels the cultures are very different.”
“I hope she’s not comparing me to other Americans of your era. I don’t know how other Americans in this era act, but it’s far different from how we behave in the twenty-first century, no matter what country one lives in.”
“I cannot say, dear one. My mother, of course, was also a child during the Rebellion, and there were the more recent rumblings in 1812 regarding Canada. There is always some animosity, some mistrust for the colonies in members of that generation.”
Mattie shook her head. “Gosh, sometimes I feel like I’m way out of my league. To hear the American Revolution called the Rebellion. It was all so long ago. The way we learn about the revolution and the War of 1812 as children is that Americans were patriots wanting independence and the red coats, the British, were oppressors.” She peered up at William’s face to see if she offended him.
“I see that you worry about my sensibilities in this matter, Mattie. Do not. I feel no proprietary claim for America, save for one American, and do not harbor grudges over past conflicts.”
“I’m glad.”
“I am pleased to hear you say so, dearest.”
****
Mattie sought Sylvie out in her bedroom that afternoon before the evening’s engagement.
“Sylvie? I wondered if I could talk to you?” Mattie said when Sylvie called to enter.
Sylvie, lovely in a pink wrapper, set her teacup down and rose.
“Mattie! I am so glad you have come. I have been pondering a matter about which I think only you can advise me.” She took Mattie’s hands and pulled her down to the settee where she’d been sitting.
Mattie surveyed Sylvie’s face. Her cheeks were high with color, and her normally guileless blue eyes flickered away. Unusually knitted brows replaced her normally sunny expression, and she chewed on her lower lip.
Mattie gave Sylvie’s hands a gentle squeeze. Her planned matchmaking efforts would have to wait for another day. Sylvie was troubled about something.
“What is it, Sylvie?”
Sylvie seemed to take a deep breath.
“Thomas wants to go to America with Stephen and Louisa when they leave.” A single tear slipped down Sylvie’s face.
Mattie, taken aback that Sylvie had raised the very subject she’d come to talk to her about, struggled for words. This time she’d practiced what she was going to say, as she had not with Louisa, but the words seemed hollow at the grief in Sylvie’s face.
Sylvie clutched Mattie’s hands tighter.
“I am afraid he will never return this time,” she whispered in a strangled voice. “He has asked me to marry him, to go to America with him. I cannot leave my mother. How can I leave everything I have ever known to go to a wild, untamed country?”
Mattie, unsure of Sylvie’s reaction, put her arm around the younger girl. Sylvie, at first rigid, relaxed against Mattie’s shoulder.
“Forgive me, Mattie, I did not mean to disparage your country, but I am so afraid,” Sylvie said on a sob. She broke down then, and cried while Mattie held her. Sylvie was right. Mattie probably did have a better understanding for what Sylvie felt than others. After all, she’d left not only her century, but her country. England was different. It didn’t matter that they spoke a common language. At times, the language was no more recognizable to her than French might be.
“I understand, Sylvie. I understand,” Mattie said soothingly.
Sylvie’s sobs slowed. “Yes, I thought you might,” she said with a shaky smile. “I love Thomas, you see. I have loved him all my life, ever since I was a child. And I know he has always loved me.” She straightened and pulled a handkerchief from a pocket in her wrapper. “But this adventurous spirit of his. I fear I cannot live up to it. I fear I will disappoint him, Mattie.”
Mattie waited. Sylvie seemed to have more to say.
“My mother knows how I feel about Thomas, and she has never discouraged me. Yet I feel she would be devastated if I were to leave. She has never expressly stated such, but a daughter knows these things.”
She reached for her teacup, and stopped abruptly, turning to Mattie with dismay. “Forgive me, Mattie. I did not offer you tea. Shall I ring for another cup?”
Mattie shook her head. “No, thank you. Go on with what you were saying.”
“I think William would encourage me to go with Thomas,” she said. “But I lack the adventurous spirit which possesses Thomas. Tell me about America, Mattie. I know the America Thomas travels to must be far different from yours, but tell me what you can.”
For the next hour, Mattie told her as much as she could, both in a historical and modern sense. She avoided describing too much about present-day technology, but discussed customs and traditions—at least, those that seemed to have existed for the last century or so. She described the beauty of the United States, with its mountains, oceans, deserts, lakes and rivers.
Sylvie asked questions often, and Mattie struggled to find the appropriate answers. Sylvie chuckled, some of her normally happy disposition returning. “I know you are telling me all that is good in your country, Mattie, and dispensing with anything which might discourage me, and I accept this. My apprehension has lessened now than when we first spoke. And if Louisa is there, I shall already have a friend. I do not know, though, how my mother will fare.” Sylvie sighed. “Still, William will be here. He will produce an heir and secure the future of Ashton House, ensuring that my mother continues to have a home.”
She gave Mattie a sly look, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue.
“Perhaps this is something you will
be part of, Mattie?”
Mattie blinked.
“What?” She knew what Sylvie was asking, but preferred to stall.
“You and William,” Sylvie pressed. She covered Mattie’s hand with her own. “I thought…there was affection between you. These past few weeks…”
Mattie swallowed hard. “There is, Sylvie. There is.”
Sylvie’s face brightened.
“Then you will stay? Has William made you an offer?”
Mattie shook her head. “No.”
Sylvie’s lips drooped.
“No to which? You will not stay? Or William has not made you an offer? I cannot believe the latter is true. William is quite infatuated with you. It is apparent to all. I know he cares not a whit for your origins or connections.”
“I can’t stay, Sylvie,” Mattie squeaked out. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Mattie!” Sylvie cried. “It is I who must apologize for haranguing you so. No, of course, you must return home if that is your desire. Is there a chance you can return?”
Mattie shook her head again. “I have no idea.” She hadn’t even thought of that. Could she return? Even now, she wasn’t sure she could get back home.
It was Sylvie who now consoled Mattie with a gentle embrace.
“I see this is a difficult subject for you. Forgive me, Mattie. I think it must be time to dress for dinner. I cannot keep you any longer, though I feel I must have many more questions. Thank you for your counsel regarding my own future.”
She rose with Mattie and followed her to the door.
“Regardless of what may occur in the future, Mattie, I shall always consider you a good friend and a sister.” She planted a kiss on Mattie’s cheek.
****
William found it difficult to keep his attention on his dinner companions, so desirous was he of private conversation with Mattie. His mother had all but given up on the proprieties regarding a chaperone for Mattie in William’s company, and had resorted to treating Mattie as the distant cousin they had declared her to be.
He had no special information he wished to impart to Mattie, but simply wished to bask under her smile and the light in her eyes. The passage of time had flown over the past few weeks, and less than one week remained until the next full moon. He had promised Mattie he would not entreat her further to remain with him, and he had honored his word, though he could not count the times he had wished he could plead with her yet again.
As if Mattie knew he thought of her, she raised her eyes and favored him with a smile of affection. Hardly appropriate at the dinner table in such a large gathering, but he cared not. They had little time left for artifice.
William returned her smile, hoping she would be available to join him in the library at evening’s end, or perhaps a walk in the moonlight. No, he thought, not the moonlight. The time for her departure approached, but had not yet arrived. He dared not risk any premature time-traveling adventures.
A tinkling of a glass at the end of the table caught his attention, and he turned toward Lord Hamilton who stood, his glass of champagne held high as if in toast. Beside him, his mother kept her eyes discreetly lowered, but the unusual fiery red color of her cheeks concerned him. What had Lord Hamilton said to her to bring such strong emotion to her normally controlled countenance?
“If I may.” Lord Hamilton’s voice boomed over the guests. “An announcement!”
The crowd quieted and turned toward him.
“I have the happy honor to announce that Mrs. Sinclair has consented at long last to become my wife, the future Lady Hamilton!”
William drew in a sharp breath as the sound of surprised exclamations and several titters was heard. His mother raised her eyes and looked directly at him, and then to Sylvie a distance down the table. She returned her gaze to William’s face, an unexpected vulnerability showing in her eyes.
William grabbed his glass and jumped up.
“Hear, hear!” he said, silencing the comments. “Many happy felicitations!” The guests rose in unison and raised their glasses. “Hear, hear.”
Lord Hamilton took his seat once again, his cheeks almost as bright as those of William’s mother. She threw William a look of gratitude, and he met her eyes with a curious tilt of his head and a smile but no more. Truth be told, he found himself stunned by the news, never supposing that his mother would really accept Lord Hamilton or a removal from Ashton House.
As his mother turned her attention back to Lord Hamilton, William tore his eyes from the scene and looked toward Mattie, who watched him with wide eyes. Aware that several guests studied him discreetly to assess his reactions, he dared not show blatant emotion on his face, but he gave her a reassuring nod.
So, he was to be left alone with the estate. It was unclear if Sylvie would go with their mother or with Thomas, as they seemed very intimate that evening, but she would soon leave. Of that, William was certain.
And Mattie would leave as well, sooner than his mother or Sylvie. He studied the length of the dining room—the long table festooned with flower arrangements, glowing white porcelain place settings and stemware, the guests immaculately dressed in starched shirts and dark coats as well as colorful dresses and hair adornments, the portraits of ancestors covering the walls and the six crystal chandeliers which cast a warm glow over the festivities.
There would be no more dinner parties in the house once his mother removed to Lord Hamilton’s estate and Sylvie followed Thomas to wherever he might go next. No more balls, no more card parties. He did not regret the notion, but reflected on the concept almost dispassionately.
Still, he would miss the women in his life—his mother, Sylvie and Mattie. He wondered how often he would slip into the kitchen to find comfort in a warm cup of tea with Mrs. White.
A sudden thought occurred to him, and he returned his gaze to Mattie, her attention now captured by the older gentleman sitting beside her. If his mother were in Lord Hamilton’s hands, and Sylvie removed with Thomas, what would prevent him from attempting to return to Mattie’s time with her? His heart thudded against his chest. Surely, there must be some way he could turn the estate over to a manager, perhaps even put the house up to let. The latter idea galled him, but the gist of the matter intrigued him.
The dinner seemed interminable following Lord Hamilton’s announcement. It was several hours later when the family was finally able to speak in private, the guests and Lord Hamilton having gone home.
His mother sat on the sofa, Sylvie beside her. He had asked Mattie to await him in the library, and she had consented.
“You can imagine what a surprise this is, Mother,” William said unnecessarily.
“Yes,” she replied briefly. William and Sylvie waited, but their mother laced and unlaced her fingers in an uncharacteristically nervous manner.
“But Mother? I thought you had sworn off marriage,” Sylvie said.
“Such vulgar language, Sylvie, please.” Her mother smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in her skirt.
William surprised himself with his next question. “Do you love him?” A flowery sentiment to be sure, but loving a woman from the future had indelibly changed him.
His mother’s cheeks brightened, and she threw a quick glance at her son.
“I surprise myself by saying this, but yes, I do.”
“Mother! How delightful!” Sylvie said. She hugged their mother impulsively.
“I am so pleased for you, Mother,” William said in a more restrained fashion. “Lord Hamilton is a fine man. I have always thought so.”
“As have I, dearest.” Their mother almost beamed…almost. “I apologize for not discussing the matter with you children beforehand, but Lord Hamilton—Jonathan—was so beside himself with the news, just decided this evening, that he could not wait to announce it. Perhaps he fears I will change my mind.” She smiled playfully.
“When do you intend to hold the wedding, Mother?” Sylvie asked.
“We do not see any reason for delay, and we have discussed marrying
as soon as the banns are posted, perhaps in a fortnight.”
“So soon,” William murmured. In a fortnight, Mattie would be gone. Too soon.
“Yes, will that present any difficulties, William? If I am not mistaken, I hear a bereft note in your voice.”
He returned her wide smile. “Not at all, madam. I do not cling to my mother’s apron strings.”
She laughed, an unusually light-hearted sound.
“Sylvie shall still remain here, will you not? Or do you wish to remove with me to Hamilton Place?”
“As it happens, I have news of my own,” Sylvie murmured. “Thomas has asked me to marry him, and I have consented!”
“At long last!” William commented without surprise. Their broad smiles at dinner had left him in no doubt. “It was never a question of if but of when, I think.”
“Sylvie! What a surprise!” their mother said. “I must admit I thought you and Thomas would never come to an understanding.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I fear we shall leave William all alone.”
“Actually, Mother, we will honeymoon on the voyage to America…with Stephen and Louisa. Thomas wishes to visit there for an extended period, perhaps even relocate there.”
“Sylvie!” her mother remonstrated. “Not America! So far…”
“I worried that you would receive the news poorly, Mother, and I have resisted Thomas’s proposal for weeks both because of my own fears of leaving England and because I did not care to leave you. But you are beginning a new life of your own, Mother.”
“You are right, of course,” their mother said with a droop of her lips. “But grandchildren?”
“If you wish to see my children”—Sylvie blushed—“you must come to visit me in America. I am certain, though, that William will provide you with English grandchildren.”
William looked away.
“I am not as certain of that as you, Sylvie,” their mother said. She rose and kissed her children on the cheek. “Again, accept my felicitations. It is late, and I have much work to do for the wedding…for two weddings now. I will say good night.”
