The Space Between Time (The Time Travel Diaries of James Urquhart and Elizabeth Bicester Book 4)

by Bruce Macfarlane

  Mr Tesla’s generosity had not only bought us a first-class cabin but allowed me to replace my complete wardrobe. James, on seeing the quantity of my selection, wondered how New Yorkers would find any clothes left to buy after I’d finished. However, on the quay, he had seen the luggage of the other first-class carriages whereupon he had decided that I was quite frugal in my spending and promised never to complain about my travelling requirements again. He is usually quite difficult when purchasing clothes, preferring instead his gardening garments, but I could not miss out on this opportunity to provide him with proper attire. For I wished him not to keep borrowing from my father’s wardrobe which required clips and stitching in order to fit him.

  I eventually persuaded him to visit one of New York’s fashionable emporia and buy seven sets of suits, shirts, socks and shoes. I was pleased to see that once dressed properly he quite enjoyed it and he did look quite fetching, although understandably he refused the underwear. He has reason for I would recommend to any lady of my time who finds herself in the twenty-first century to immediately ‘snap up’ all the undergarments she can afford before she returns home. This especially applies to ‘bras’ which keep one’s breasts in wonderful order. Also, if I may be so bold, if chosen with caution a bra can aid in drawing attention from the one you desire; though too bold a colour can attract undue attention. As an aside, from a particular experience, for which I am indebted to Jill, they must always be worn underneath a dress or blouse unless you are participating in a pre-nuptial party where it seems it is de rigueur, even in public, to wear one on the outside of one’s clothes. I have also discovered that they can be a source of much hilarity amongst our men-folk and on occasion, when they have banded together for an evening at a hostelry, to borrow their wives’ bras and wear them on display for all to see! I am only aware of this because one evening Jill and I saw James, Sean and their friends walking past our home one night wearing such items. I have still not obtained a satisfactory explanation from James on this nor where the bras were obtained, for they were not mine!

  But to return.

  About eight o’clock a bell rang to summon people to dinner.

  I was not quite ready for I was unsure whether the evening dress I had chosen was suitable. It is of no use asking James for advice for he does not take into account what other women will expect. For of course as we women know, we dress to impress our own sex.

  I said to James, who was already in his evening dress, “I am somewhat nervous for I am a little out of this society.”

  “You are! What about me? Tell you what, I’ll get Peters to give us some advice.”

  “I’d prefer the maid.”

  “Peters is paid to look after us. I’ll trust him.”

  And before I could protest he pressed the bell and Peters instantly appeared.

  I must confess this valet was perfect. Where Mr Tesla found him I do not know. James thought he was the original inspiration for a gentleman’s gentleman in a series of books by a Mr Wodehouse and said he looked forward to his remedy or cure for port. It was only later that I understood what he meant. With James’ and my permission, Peters, with impeccable deference to my sex, gave me advice on my attire and the maid after a few adjustments of my clothing, pronounced that I was ready for the evening.

  He then with an apology said, “You will find, if it is your first trip that you will meet those with money, those with class, those with both and those with neither. I would suggest that you be yourselves. In that way, you will find people to your liking.”

  He then looked a little embarrassed as though he was speaking out of turn and in reply for his good advice James thanked him for sharing his experience and managed to put a ten dollar note in his breast pocket.

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  J.

  We eventually left our room about eight-thirty. Elizabeth looked ravishing in layers of yellow embroidered silk and showing a nice square cleavage. However, she declined my offer to stay in our rooms and have dinner brought to us.

  We were only half way down the corridor, wondering which way to go when Peters appeared out of a door and offered to take us to the restaurant. For some reason, I felt a little unsteady on my feet. Peters noticed and gently held my arm.

  “Don’t be too alarmed, Sir. The ship is leaving port. Once we are out in the waters the movement will become more manageable.”

  I hoped he was right. I usually took sea sickness pills just to cross the channel.

  After passing a number of richly furnished, panelled lounges already occupied by a variety of smoking gentlemen, we arrived at the dining room, or banqueting hall as I would prefer to call it, for it was occupied by over a hundred tables, all white cloths and silver service. Judging by the raucous noise several parties had already started, and long tailed waiters were scurrying about with trays of food and drink trying to satisfy the guests’ needs. I was just wondering where to sit when Peters beckoned us to the other end of the hall. It seemed a very long hall and I was conscious of many faces turning towards us, no doubt wondering who we were and how we’d been let on the ship. Eventually we were guided to a table where, judging by his naval uniform, sat the ship’s Captain!

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  E.

  Although I have travelled to the continent on package boats, I had never been on a transatlantic steamship before, and to be taken to the Captain’s table filled me with trepidation, not least because he was sitting on a table by himself. However, Peters introduced us to the Captain by saying that we were the couple who had nursed Mr Tesla back to health.

  “Ah! Mr and Mrs Urquhart. Please sit down. Are your rooms adequate and comfortable?”

  James replied that he was very satisfied and said to my embarrassment that he had never stayed in a bedroom bigger than his house before.

  Luckily the Captain was very kind to us and made much of our helping Mr Tesla. It seems that as a man who had spent his life trying to navigate high seas by stars or luck he was very encouraging of the likes of Mr Tesla who could provide a wireless communication across the world. The mention of the scientific methods of Mr Tesla allowed James to come into his element where, with the aid of the wine which accompanied our meal and the port afterwards, he was able to give the Captain a detailed description of Mr Tesla’s experiments. The Captain was much fascinated by James’ ‘view’ of the future where ships could navigate by signals from the shore. Although when he mentioned that one day ships would navigate by communication with satellites in space, he suggested politely that perhaps James should take up fictional writings in the form of Jules Verne, where his imagination could be given the freedom it desired.

  At about one o’clock a small orchestra started up and I was very flattered to be offered the first dance by the Captain. Although a little nervous, the looks of admiration, if not envy, from the surrounding tables relaxed me considerably and I must confess my confidence was much improved. Luckily by the time James asked me to dance, the floor was filled with people and his performance, despite my previous instructions on the waltz and gavotte, for the most part, went unnoticed.

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  J.

  We left the dining room after a couple of dances to a Palm Court Orchestra to preserve Elizabeth’s toes. It was the third time she had tried to teach me a waltz and being a little worse for wear, no doubt because of the motion of the ship and not the port as she suggested, I decided we should retire.

  We eventually found our rooms with the aid of Peters who, despite our protestations that we knew where we were going, appeared at every wrong turning to guide us along the correct path.

  Passing through the first room we both flopped on the bed. Elizabeth looked a little unwell.

  “Are you OK?”

  “I fear I drank a little too much wine.”

  “Well, let’s get this gear off and into this enormous bed. I’m stuffed!”

  “You should try wearing stays.”

  “I thought you didn’t wear them.” />
  “Normally I do not, but I was a little nervous of my reception and decided to comply with fashion. My stomach is not speaking to me.”

  “With your waistline! Most girls in my time would dream of having your shape.

  Let’s get it off then.”

  I’d discovered that some Victorian women did not consider themselves fully laced up until they had achieved a waistline of 18 inches. Like the monocle, it was a ridiculous fashion. Apparently, it was normal just to be tightened enough to create a waisted outline. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had tried to go for the thinnest waist on the ship.

  I’m not quite sure how her maid normally manages it but if anyone had come into the bedroom while Elizabeth was bent over the bed with me kneeling on top trying to unpluck the laces, the conversation would have been interesting.

  Eventually it was removed accompanied by a sigh of relief from both of us. She didn’t object when I threw it out of the porthole.

  Afterwards we both agreed that that was enough exertion for one night and without getting into our pyjamas we climbed into bed and were fast asleep in seconds.

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  E.

  We awoke about mid-day and ordered a light lunch, brought by a maid who seemed not to mind that we received her in bed. Afterwards we both fell asleep again.

  It was about six o’clock that we eventually rose. Feeling that it would be rude to miss dinner we prepared ourselves again.

  When we entered the dining hall a waiter immediately met us and guided us to a table near the stage. I noticed that the Captain was at his table but receiving other guests. I imagine that on these voyages he had a lot of people to entertain.

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  J.

  After dinner, we retired to one of the salons but the cigar smoke and motion of the boat plus possibly the wine and port made me feel a bit queasy. I suggested that we take some air and we staggered up the stairs, through the main lounge and on to the promenade deck. A few couples in evening dress were strolling along the deck. Somewhere a gramophone started playing a waltz and a couple started a smoochy slow dance.

  The air was clear and the stars twinkled brightly. I’d never seen so many. I searched for a planet but none were to be found. To the rear, I could see the white wake of the ship stretching out into the distance.

  “Do you think we will get back to your time?”

  She was wearing a green silk dress embroidered with peacocks and other birds which possibly the artist had never seen but I did not mind because whoever had cut it knew exactly how to emphasise her shape.

  “I don’t know and in truth I don’t really mind at the moment. I’m enjoying the pleasure of this luxury.”

  “Me too. We could not have planned a better holiday and we will have almost a week to ourselves with no distractions.”

  I felt a weight fall from my shoulders.

  “You’re right. Let’s walk down to the front deck and watch the stars.”

  As we sauntered along with the sound of the waltz floating in the air I was sure I saw Peters once or twice pretending to be busy.

  “When do you think we will get back home?” she said.

  “My calculation is about 3rd of April.”

  “That will be about three days after we originally left my home.”

  “We’d better make sure we don’t arrive before.”

  “Why? Do you think we will meet ourselves?”

  “I don’t know whether we can. I’m more worried about the confusion it will cause.”

  “Yes. I agree. If we do find ourselves in that situation, then perhaps we should extend our holiday. We still have monies from Mr Tesla spare.”

  “You’d better save that just in case we need to replenish your clothes.”

  “I do have enough for at least seven more of your adventures; even you may have difficulty devising that many ways to ruin them.”

  “It may surprise you but I’d like to avoid any more adventures.”

  She slid her arm into mine. I felt the warm silk against me and pulled her closer.

  We eventually reached the forward deck and leaned over the rail. Two great searchlights shone forward. I wondered how far north we were. I couldn’t see any icebergs.

  I looked up at the stars in the jet-black sky. The Milky Way arched overhead so clearly. I slowly followed it down. It stopped some twenty degrees above the horizon.

  “That’s interesting. There must be a fog bank ahead for I can’t see any stars there. Look,” I said, pointing to the horizon.

  “Yes. It must be fog or mist but I can’t quite see what it is.”

  “There’s no moon to shine on it. I presume they haven’t got radar. I don’t want to find us in fog in the middle of a field of icebergs!”

  “Oh, I’d love to see one.”

  I was just wondering whether to mention the Titanic when the search lights picked up the fog. A great blast came from the ship’s fog horn which nearly made us both jump in the air.

  For about ten minutes we watched the fog come closer and closer. Wisps began to pass by the ship. The stars disappeared. I noticed the gramophone had stopped playing.

  I said, “I think we better go back inside. I believe these North Atlantic fogs can be quite cold.”

  We turned away from the rail and proceeded to walk slowly back down the deck. Other people must have had the same idea because the deck was deserted. The fog was quite close now. It was very quiet. Too quiet.

  Elizabeth noticed as well, “Can you hear the engines?”

  I listened. I could hear nothing. “Maybe the engines have stopped for some reason. Hope they haven’t spotted an iceberg.”

  Another vision of the Titanic came to me. For some reason, I wondered if I could get into one of Elizabeth’s dresses. The fog was now rolling onto the deck. We both decided to walk a little faster and closer to the cabin walls.

  “I’m not quite sure where we came out.” I whispered, “I think before this stuff gets any thicker we’ll go through the first door we find.”

  “I agree. It is unusual for I do not feel cold or damp.”

  I tried a couple of doors. They were locked. The silence was beginning to worry me.

  I felt her hand grasp mine, “I fear we are lost, James.”

  I agreed but didn’t say anything. Then suddenly a door opened and there to our relief was Peters in his full evening dress, wearing his relaxing smile.

  “Excuse my interruption, Sir, but I thought you were in need of assistance.”

  His calmness was reassuring.

  “Too right, Peters. We’ve managed to lose our way.”

  “I do not want to contradict you, Sir, but I don’t believe you have. I think you will find you have arrived at where you wish to be.”

  And he stood aside and beckoned us in.

  As I went through the cabin door I was quite surprised by the room’s familiarity. It took a moment to realise that the presence of my sister, Wells and Elizabeth’s father told me that we were no longer on the ship.

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  Chapter Twenty-three

  E.

  The first words from James’ sister did not reduce the shock of finding myself in the parlour of my home in Hamgreen.

  “What are you doing back? I thought you were going to Midhurst. And why are you wearing a monkey suit, Jim? And wow! Where did you get that dress Elizabeth? I want one.”

  Seeing no reply from us except the stunned expressions on our faces, she said, “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen another ghost.”

  Still not receiving a response, my father asked where was Mr Tesla.

  I noticed James was shaking his head in disbelief. I decided to take charge, although it was not easy.

  “We have been to Midhurst, destroyed the Martian tripods, been transported to Mr Tesla’s laboratory in New York, nursed him back to health after his laboratory burnt down then took a steamship back to England at his generous expense during which journ
ey we went through a door into our cabin and found ourselves back here.”

  “Any questions?” said James.

  Ii was our turn to be met by a stunned silence.

  “How long have we been away?” I asked.

  “Ten minutes,” said Jill. “Would you like some tea?”

  “No thanks.” said James. “We’ve had dinner, danced for an hour and it’s two o’clock in the morning. I also feel a hangover coming on and I want to go to bed.”

  Instead of agreeing to what I thought was a reasonable request we were subjected to a barrage of questions whose replies, I’m sure, took over an hour.

  Eventually they agreed that we might be a little fatigued and we could go to bed after James fell asleep on the chair.

  I woke him gently. He looked around dazed and said, “Are we still on the ship? I had a weird dream that we were at your home with....”

  He saw the others sitting around him.

  “Oh God. It’s real. I was really looking forward to that four-poster bed again.”

  He rose off the chair and grimaced. “Ooh, my head! What did I drink?”

  “The port again, James.”

  “Oh dear. Can I go to bed now?”

  “Yes, you can.” And with not a little help from Jill we supported him upstairs.

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  J.

  We slept for over twelve hours and as consequence we arrived downstairs just in time for lunch. I asked Lilly if I could have a full English breakfast to which she replied, “It is already cooking on the stove, Mr Urquhart, and will be here in a few minutes.”

  I said, “Lilly, you’re a star. Do you want to come back and cook for us?”

  “I think Lizzy can do a far more adequate job than me.”

  Elizabeth gave me a look which indicated I should agree with her.

  Just as I was about to stuff my first sausage in my mouth, everyone else turned up and just in case we thought we’d dreamt our escapade, we were subjected to the same bunch of questions again. When they’d finished and I was still trying to eat my second sausage I decided to ask some questions of my own, starting with Wells.