Endless Time

by Frances Burke

  Amanda looked pleased. ‘Then you are familiar with the basic idea of spirit being the energizing force in a body, and at its core, the soul – the intrinsic being forever connected to its Creator. Our churchmen preach to us on the Day of Judgment. Well, I believe we judge ourselves. When we cross the border from this life, we return to our Source, and are helped to evaluate our progress, or lack of it, during earthly existence. We decide which aspects of development need further work and, at a chosen time, the soul returns to the world of the flesh, ready to grow and learn and expand even further.’

  Karen sighed and leaned back against the pillows. ‘We’re getting in deep, here. I can see you have faith in this system of belief. However, it’s not only difficult for me to accept, but I don’t quite see what it has to do with my predicament.’

  ‘I shall endeavor to explain.’ Amanda folded her hands in her favorite lecture pose. ‘If you can give credence to the possibility of a soul entering into a new body when it has decided to return to the earth plane, then it is no great step to the acceptance of another possibility – that a soul already in possession of a living body can be shocked out of that fleshly vehicle and into another – even across time.’

  Karen gaped at her. ‘You’ll have to let me think about that for a minute. Let’s see if I can put it into my own words. Your first statement, about reincarnation, I understand. Now, if I can believe in the rebirth of the essential spirit of a person, you say there should be no barrier to belief in that spirit leaving its body and being transported across time into another living body. Which means two souls occupying the same body. I can’t accept that.’

  ‘There is no reason why you should, my dear. In the specific case we are discussing, the body of Caroline Marchmont was vacant. Her spirit had fled.’

  ‘You mean… she was dead… before I arrived?’

  Amanda nodded. ‘I believe that was the case.’

  ‘You think she was murdered, don’t you?’

  ‘There were no marks upon your body, beyond a few bruises – nothing to show why the real Caroline’s spirit had fled, or when. What could be simpler, after all, than to administer a large quantity of laudanum and fling the victim from the head of the stairs? Who would know she had not tripped and fallen, and died as a result of that fall?

  ‘My God!’ Karen’s voice was a whisper. She took a moment order her chaotic thoughts. ‘And what about my own body? What’s been happening to it back in my own time? Will it still be there when I get back?’

  ‘I see no reason to doubt it. However, I am unable to guarantee anything, of course. I simply do not know.’

  ‘So I must take my chances. Amanda, it’s hard for me to believe in this possession of another woman’s body. What could have happened to set my own spirit roaming off across time to just happen on a vacant “vehicle”, as you put it?’

  Amanda gave this some thought. Then her face lit. ‘While I have no knowledge of the initial impetus, I can speculate upon the reason for your soul’s choice of a new residence. Possibly there is a connection of some kind. You may very well have lived before as a person of these times, and therefore feel drawn to them.’

  ‘Never!’ Karen shuddered, remembering the stinking alley where Amanda had found her. If she’d lived in Georgian times, the odds strongly favored a miserable existence as one of the myriad poor, not of the elite few at the top end of society.

  Her face must have reflected her feelings, for Amanda rose and kissed her cheek, saying, ‘I have tired you, and it is imperative that you regain your strength as soon as possible.’ She gathered up her belongings. ‘Do not forget that you have my belief and trust. I shall call upon you each day; and as soon as you feel able we shall begin your instruction. I shall be your governess, and you my young pupil. It will be amusing.’

  She put on a mischievous face. ‘Our reward will be a scandalously expensive descent upon the shops. Your husband did offer us the freedom of his purse. You will enjoy that, my dear.’

  She had gone before Karen remembered she’d not told her friend about her desperate need to return to her own time as soon as possible. It was amazing that Amanda knew nothing about her, and yet was prepared to give her time and energy to Karen’s cause. Karen made a promise to herself that somehow she would repay this kindness, after she’d found a way of damming the flow of words long enough to say something herself.

  Reflecting on Amanda’s kindness, she could understand that her training as well as her inclinations had led her to use her extraordinary abilities in the service of others. Hence her involvement with the Holborn dispensary. Now she was prepared to devote her energies to Karen.

  Her remaining days of convalescence flew by, crammed with Amanda’s tutoring, careful but determined exercising of wasted muscles, cautious conversations with the few family visitors permitted now that she was no longer bedridden. She watched her tongue and hid her reactions to Lady Oriel and Basil of the sly eyes, the more easily because their visits were brief and conducted under the watchful supervision of Antony. However, he and she had little to say to one another, and Karen began to speculate whether he had any interests at all outside of his clubs and sporting activities.

  Fashionably, if somewhat carelessly turned out, he appeared to be the epitome of the London buck, engaging in all the normal male pursuits of the times. His amusements consisted of attendance at race meetings, cockfights and boxing matches, and he made no secret of the fact that his nights were spent in gambling and drinking at one or another of his clubs. She had Sybilla’s word for it that he rarely appeared at any of the balls, routs and soirees that formed the essential backbone of the London Season; although in the country he hunted and joined shooting parties.

  It seemed he had no taste for the company of women. Hardly surprising in view of his disastrous marriage, Karen thought, and again wondered what had happened to his first wife. Sybilla closed like an oyster whenever the subject was mentioned, and who else was there to ask? Amanda had never met the lady, and in any case, disliked gossip; and with Charles Hastings, for some reason she just didn’t care to pry.

  However, she welcomed his visits. He brought her books from Hookhams – some excruciating novels as well as informative tomes on Georgian London, at her request; and in his own quiet way he did his best to entertain her.

  One afternoon he seemed preoccupied, and when she probed, revealed a genuine concern with the well-being of the nation. It appeared that matters were not going well for England, economically. Costs had rocketed and people starved because Napoleon’s Continental system was squeezing shut the trade routes that supplied essential goods – not to mention the country’s inability to export its own manufactures.

  Karen’s interest rose. ‘Charles, this is January 1811, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, the eighteenth. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Then we are at war with the whole of Western Europe.’

  He sighed. ‘Indeed. Our new Regent is about to assume power at a most difficult time. One must hope that he will take a firm grasp of matters of state.’ His gloomy tone was not reassuring. ‘’Tis but a matter of weeks since Sweden’s Crown Prince bowed to Napoleon’s decree and declared war upon us – the final link in the chain that will try to strangle this country.’

  ‘I feel sure you need not worry. Prince Bernadotte is a friend to Britain. He will never enforce the blockade, no matter how much French pressure is brought to bear.’ Remembering, too late, that the feather-headed Caroline would have no interest in foreign affairs, she added, ‘Or so I have heard from… Amanda. She’s very politically minded, you know.’

  At the mention of Amanda, his amazed expression gave way to one of bemused fascination. He’d certainly been hit hard, thought Karen, and wondered whether Amanda felt the same way. Regardless of her open friendliness, Amanda had a depth of reserve that Karen did not like to broach. Very like Charles’ own, in fact. She tactfully changed the subject.

  Having already unburdened herself to Amanda over her griev
ing for Adele, Karen was disappointed when her friend began to discourage further discussion of her past life.

  ‘My dear Caro, this is a difficult undertaking for you, and you must never for an instant allow yourself to become distracted from your purpose, which is to survive your extraordinary translation from your own time and launch yourself successfully into society.’

  ‘Amanda, my purpose is to get back home to my own time. I don’t give a fig for your social whirl. I’m only learning to prance and posture and talk with half a dozen plums in my mouth because I want to get among people and question them. I’ve somehow got to find this gap in time and squeeze back through it.’

  Amanda’s eyes betrayed her amusement. ‘Is that how you see us? Dear me. Half a dozen plums!’ Her mood changed and she said more gently, ‘I know how you suffer, Caro. I know what your child must mean to you, and how exceedingly difficult it is for you to practice control and try to conform to a way of life so entirely foreign to your own. But you recall the further purpose behind our scheme. We are protecting your life and, if possible, we intend to discover and expose the wicked creature who would wrench it from you.’

  ‘Okay. But it could be any one of the household, including the servants. Lucy has something on her mind. I catch her looking at me very strangely; and it was she who gave me the hot milk that night I nearly froze to death.’

  Amanda dismissed the milk with a wave. ‘Any one could have tampered with it, as you observed. As for your maid’s behavior… My dear Caro, you are not precisely the model of a great lady, although I have no doubt you soon will be.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that.’ Karen kicked moodily at the carpet, in a highly unladylike way. Then she grinned. ‘I admit I’ve given people a few shocks in the past weeks, sometimes deliberately. You know, I can’t believe the way servants are treated by their own kind. The hierarchy is amazing, and quite cruel. Everyone is afraid of Bates. He’s at the top of the pile; and then Mrs. Bates terrorizes the maids. The menservants tyrannize the women and take shocking advantage of them. I even found one of those poor half-starved little scullery maids crying in the kitchen corner last week and nursing a scalded hand. I discovered she’d been deprived of her supper and made to scrub the floor with that hand because she’d dropped a plate when she accidentally scalded herself! I soon fixed that! But it’s appalling, the amount of bullying going on.’

  ‘’Tis very bad, but…’ Amanda did a classic double-take. ‘Caro! Do you mean to say you actually paid a visit to your kitchens?’

  ‘Yes, I did. And it’s no use telling me a lady doesn’t do so because I know. I had a domestic riot on my hands.’

  Amanda began to laugh. ‘You amaze me. I wish I had been present to see such a sight. Of course you are in the right of it. The rigid structure of the servants’ hall can be a cruel prison to many, and ‘tis difficult to effect change without resentment. Also, I fear, many mistresses have no wish to disturb a well-run household and bring inconvenience upon themselves. I congratulate you upon your valor. Pray, tell me what eventuated.’

  Karen smiled reminiscently. ‘They tried to put me in my place and I threatened to sack the lot of them. They then formed a deputation under Mrs. Bates to protest to Antony.’

  ‘Oh, my dear! He would be furious.’

  ‘Well, I quite thought so myself. But I was too angry to care. Surprisingly, he informed them that they were to take orders from me or get out – or words to that effect. You know how well he expresses himself.’

  Amanda seemed to be struck dumb. So Karen went on. ‘At any rate, things have settled, and I rather think I’ve earned a totally spurious reputation as an Iron Mistress. Which brings me back to my suspicions of Lucy. She behaves like a timid rabbit around me.’

  ‘Never mind your maid. We should be searching for the person who has something to gain from your death.’

  The discussion ended in the usual impasse.

  The day finally came when both Dr. Horbury and Amanda pronounced Karen ready to re-enter society; and in some trepidation she prepared for the event.

  Standing by the window she stared into the garden while waiting for her bath to be readied. Her desperate urge to return to her own time had abated a little. During the first weeks of her illness she’d fretted and, in her delirium had wept for her child – whereupon the resistant Chloe had been brought to her bedside. When this proved unproductive, she’d been dosed with laudanum and kept drugged until she ceased to struggle.

  Strangely, she had hazy memories of Antony being with her whenever she woke from her drug-induced sleep. He seemed kinder, almost as if he cared about her misery.

  In an odd way his presence had been a comfort. Perhaps he’d sensed her loneliness; and perhaps this was all a part of her dreams.

  A period of lethargy had set in, when she no longer cared what happened to her. Finally, with the realization that she must have missed her court appearance, and consequently forfeited her plea for custody of Adele, there came hysteria, followed by resignation. It would all have to be done again, when she got back home. Meanwhile, she must regain her health and concentrate all her energies on finding the way back.

  As she dressed for Lady Wharton’s soiree, allowing Lucy to minister to her in a way she’d have thought impossible not so long ago, her mind was occupied with this need. She knew it was time to press Amanda. Her intuitiveness, almost a psychic ability to read people and their motives, daily became more apparent. Her friend seemed able to predict events and behavioral reactions, and there was nothing superficial about her. She cared about people. If anyone could find a solution to Karen’s dilemma, it would surely be this gifted woman.

  That night, stepping down from the carriage before Lady Wharton’s elegant townhouse, Karen had her nerves under control. She knew she looked attractive. Her gown of green silk flattered her skin and hair and hid the too-prominent shoulder bones with a demi-cape of ribbon lace that ended in a pretty ruff under her chin. It was not strictly in the bare mode usual for evening but, as Amanda point out, Viscountess Marchmont was an acknowledged leader in fashion. All she need do was carry it off as the latest whim from Paris.

  They swept in together, Karen on Antony’s arm, Amanda worshipfully attended by Charles Hastings. It had been Amanda’s suggestion that her charge would feel more comfortable in such a party on this difficult first occasion, and Antony agreed.

  Their hostess greeted them with a fluting cry of joy, dropping a kiss in the air above Karen’s cheek, while loudly decrying her long absence from the world. Curiosity gleamed in her eyes, and Karen was sure she had missed no detail of her appearance. Then they passed on to make way for new arrivals.

  Since this was an informal sort of occasion, Amanda whispered, they would make their way unannounced into the ballroom, which had been set up as a concert hall with chairs grouped about a platform for the musicians. Potted ferns and floral arrangements on stands helped to create an effect of arbors. Karen gladly moved to one, away from the blatant stares that followed her.

  Antony excused himself and drew Charles off to speak to an acquaintance, leaving Karen strangely bereft. A string quartet fiddled with their instruments, extracting the obligatory cat yowls that preceded a performance. The room buzzed with loud talk and occasional bursts of laughter. A hundred candles sent out their heat and light, and the heavy perfumed air seemed to press down on her head. She briefly closed her eyes to rest them from the kaleidoscopic movement of the throng.

  Her air of poise hid a longing to be back in the stuffy bedroom in Rothmoor House. She wished even more fervently that she could open her eyes to her own spare, cool room in her own apartment.

  Amanda pinched her arm to bring her to attention, whispering the names of the men and women approaching, wreathed in smiles, their mouths uttering pleasantries and their eyes punching holes in her mask, eager to discover what lay beneath. It was rather like Theo Sampson’s opening at the gallery. Drawing on her memory of that night Karen responded, automatically u
sing the phrases taught to her by Amanda, bowing and smiling appropriately.

  Finally, as her hostess clapped and called upon her guests to be seated for the performance, she gratefully subsided into a chair beside Amanda, plying her fan to cool herself.

  ‘That was well done, my dear. I am proud of you.’

  ‘Thank you. But it’s only the beginning.’

  ‘Hush. Most of the evening will be taken up with the music. Madame Berelli is to sing, I believe, after the performance at the opera has finished. There will be little time for polite conversation.’ Amanda smiled reassuringly, but her expression froze as an elegantly dressed man detached himself from a party of friends and cross the room to their corner.

  There was no time for warning. Karen found her hand seized and carried to a hot mouth to be kissed.

  Eyes burning in a thin and smiling face, the stranger murmured, ‘Treacherous Venus! Why have you not answered my notes? With all that lies between us, how can you leave me hanging in limbo with no word to give me hope?’

  He pressed uncomfortably close, and Karen shrank back, repelled as much by the mixed odor of sweat and scent coming from him as the sudden awareness that this must be one of Caroline’s conquests.

  Now he had both her hands in his clutch and she could see people looking. At any minute Antony would notice.

  Amanda delivered a painful rap to his knuckles with her fan. He hurriedly released Karen

  Bristling, Karen’s guardian angel said, ‘Kindly take your innuendos elsewhere, Jack Thornton. They are not welcome here.’

  He smiled, and Karen wished he hadn’t. There was malevolence in that twist of the lips. The man meant mischief.

  ‘Madam, I have nothing to say to you. I was addressing myself to the adorable Caroline, my Star of Love, my Incomparable…’

  Antony appeared at Karen’s side, standing close and resting a hand heavily on her shoulder. ‘You mistake, Thornton. My wife is not yours in any way, and I will thank you to refrain from coupling her with yourself in any mode of speech.’