Lay Down Your Hand

by Cherie Mitchell

  He snatched his hand back. “That’s a ridiculous thing to say. Both genders can never be equal. The fairer sex doesn’t have the capacity to function on their own without the assistance of men. Men can live without women but not vice versa.”

  She snorted rudely. “You’ve got a lot to learn. However, I think we can use this blip to our advantage. Your chauvinistic tendencies might come in handy for the tasks we have planned for you. Don’t take that strap off, ok? We’ll be in all kinds of trouble if you do.”

  He ignored her bossy chatter and went over to look out the large windows at the city spread before him. “It’s very beautiful. Industrial, but beautiful.”

  “That’s London for you. The city has changed a lot since your day but it’s kept its hardworking heart.” She walked over to join him by the window to point out Big Ben and the Tower. “You’ll recognise quite a few of the buildings.”

  “Yes, but I’ve never seen them from this angle before.” He rubbed at his eyes as a wave of exhaustion crept over him. “I don’t know why I feel so tired. I slept well last night in Darcy’s spare room. The bed was marvellous.”

  “Time travel can do that to a person. I know exactly how you feel but coffee helps.” She went across to the small kitchen area to fill the electric kettle with water. “Do you want a shower? You’ll need a change of clothes anyway. You’ll draw too much attention to yourself in those clothes.”

  He looked down at his grey shirt, black vest, and black woollen trousers. All the garments were serviceable but worn to nearly threadbare and patched in several places. He’d always been proud of his clothes and he went to a lot of trouble to keep them neat and clean, despite the dirtiness of his occupations. “What’s wrong with these?”

  “They are probably a bit too authentic. Vintage fashion has its place but those are a little too retro.” She switched the kettle on before striding across to open one of the doors that led off the living room. “You can have this room for now. There is a bathroom attached and you’ll find some men’s clothes in the wardrobe. I keep a range of sizes and you’re sure to find something that fits. Have a shower, find something to wear, and then come back out here for your coffee. We won’t do anything too strenuous today, not until you’ve settled in.”

  She did like to chatter. He was glad that Annie had known not to chatter whenever he was tired or stressed, keeping her lip buttoned as all respectable women should do. He closed the door on Ramona’s last few words and looked around the small bedroom. The bed looked inviting but he told himself it would be rude to sleep when his host was waiting for him to come back. He opened the wardrobe and stared at the clothes hanging from the rail and stacked neatly on a shelf. Sweatpants, hoodie, sweatshirt, t-shirt, boxers, trainers. Words with little meaning to him before now rushed into his mind. He grabbed an assortment of clothes and tossed them on the bed, along with his deck of cards and his pocket watch, before walking into the gleaming white bathroom and gasping in amazement. Now this he liked. He stood under the stream of hot water for a long time, unable to wipe the grin from his face. Whoever had invented this was a genius.

  It was nearly an hour later before he walked back out into the living room, feeling sparkling clean and minty fresh. The clothes he’d chosen were loose and comfortable and the fabric unexpectedly soft. He’d already decided that people living in this modern time were coddled and pampered, probably more than they realised.

  Ramona looked up from the table where she was working with a laptop (laptop, computer, mobile phone – the words swooped and soared before finding their rightful place in his head) and a pile of paperwork. “I thought you’d gone to sleep.”

  “No, I was enjoying the miracle of the shower. That gush of endlessly hot water has the potential to change lives.”

  She laughed and pushed her chair back. “I’m glad you liked it. Coffee?”

  He’d never tasted the beverage before but he had a sense of its foreign bitterness on his tongue as soon as she asked. “I’ll have tea, if you don’t mind.” He’d sat his half-finished cup on Darcy’s table, in that front room that felt as if it were a million miles away from where he now stood.

  “Ever the Englishman,” she teased. “By the way, I’ve emailed a few contacts to try and sort you out an apartment.”

  He sat down at the table while she fussed around in the kitchen and busied herself making the drinks. A woman’s quick hands and slighter build made her a natural for domestic tasks and it was pleasant to have a woman waiting on him again. “How did you meet Darcy anyway?”

  She smiled as she carried their cups back to the table. “It was purely by accident. Believe it or not, I swiped right on his profile.”

  The words should have been a puzzle to him but they weren’t. Swipe right to meet potential suitors. He twisted the strap around his wrist again, pleased to have the benefit of its silent, pulsing translations. “He was here?”

  “He’s always somewhere. Nothing keeps Darcy in one spot for long.”

  “There’s an age difference…” He trailed off, embarrassed for pointing it out. It wasn’t his business to judge her taste in men, or to start a conversation about her relationships with her beaus.

  “I’ve never cared too much about age differences. People are at different ages inside their heads anyway and all of our minds differ from the biological ages that we present to the outside world. Darcy and I are very much the same age when you push the years aside. Time is an illusion, or it can be.”

  “Were the two of you together for long?” She seemed happy enough to answer his questions, speaking without any bashfulness or embarrassment, and it gave him the chance to form a more rounded opinion of her. He decided he liked her blunt, forthright manner, as long as she contained her propensity towards bossiness.

  “Long enough for us to find out that we had more in common than we first thought. We discovered an instant bond and neither of us have any doubt that we’ll be friends for life.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” He sipped at his tea and instantly felt more like himself. It seemed not everything had changed with the passage of time.

  “As it turned out, the main reason Darcy was on the dating app was for research purposes,” she continued.

  He curved his lips into a smile. “Why do I have the feeling that a lot of people use that excuse?”

  “It’s not an excuse,” she said sharply. “He was genuinely conducting research. He was alarmed at the similarities between how women purposely put themselves in danger nowadays and how they used to put themselves in danger back in Jack the Ripper’s time.”

  Hearing that felon’s name uttered in these pleasant surroundings and in the middle of this light-hearted conversation was confronting. Elliot’s hands shook as he returned his teacup to the saucer. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

  “We don’t have to talk about this now if it’s too upsetting. I know you’ve been through a lot today.” The stark blue of her eyes had softened invitingly and he was suddenly aware that a man could tumble into their depths if he wasn’t careful. “We do have to discuss it at some point though. It’s the reason why you’re here.”

  He took a moment to compose himself as the strap on his wrist throbbed and pulsed, marking time with his heartbeat. “What happens if I tell you that I don’t want to be involved? I hadn’t given Darcy my answer before I climbed into his dratted machine.”

  “Elliot, you don’t have a choice. The machine is broken. I couldn’t send you back even if I wanted to, not with the door buckled like that. There’s obviously something wrong with the mechanics too, because I’m sure Darcy didn’t mean for you to arrive here before he’d finished giving you your instructions.”

  He nodded. He understood what she was saying but he wasn’t sure he liked it. It seemed he was stuck here for the time being. However, if he looked at his life realistically, what did he have waiting for him back in 1889? Nothing. His life there had ended on the night that Annie died. Besides, the shower alone was r
eason enough to stay here for a while longer. “How will you contact Darcy?”

  She wrinkled her nose and for one fleeting second, he imagined he saw Annie’s face in her expression. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut before swiftly opening them again, determined to keep his mind on what Ramona was saying. Keep your wits about you, Elliot Cinder.

  “It’s tricky. Complicated and tricky. I’ll try later but I can’t always guarantee that we’ll have good reception.”

  He attempted to regain some control of the situation, as a gentleman should. “Go back to what you were saying before,” he ordered. “You said something about women purposely putting themselves in danger.”

  She looked efficient and purposeful once more and he had the startling notion that she assumed she was the one steering the conversation. “Yes, we’re dealing with a very modern problem comprising of dating apps and online dating sites. Women place themselves in a vulnerable position by meeting strange men through these avenues, men who could be spinning them all sorts of lies and untruths. It’s almost an epidemic. The sorry thing is, women are getting hurt through looking for love that way and I don’t just mean their hearts. We needed someone to step into the role of protector and you turned out to be the perfect candidate.”

  This was the second time she’d mentioned the word candidate and it puzzled him. He knew he hadn’t volunteered his services for anything like this, yet it seemed he might not be the only person under consideration. “Were there others? Why did you decide that I was better for the role than the other men?” Naturally, the other candidates would all be male.

  She held his gaze for a long moment and again, he had the feeling a man could easily drown in those eyes if he wasn’t careful. “I don’t know if I can divulge that information. I’ll have to talk to Darcy about it when we contact him. I might have already said too much.” She spun out of her chair, breaking eye contact and essentially closing down the conversation for now. “How’s your tea? Do you want another cup?”

  Chapter Ten

  Elliot wasn’t exaggerating when he told Ramona later that evening that today had been the most exceptional day of his life. After finishing his tea, she’d taken him down to the parking space beneath the apartment to show him his car. She apologised for the state of the vehicle, pointing out the scratches and dents, but Elliot saw none of the supposed defects. He was in love with the machine from the first instant that he set eyes on it and that love only grew deeper once he was behind the wheel.

  Thanks to the black strap on his wrist, which Ramona had now told him was known as an era decoder, he knew how to drive but knowing how to do it and physically doing it were worlds apart. The feeling of freedom as he drove down the motorway with Ramona was unsurpassed and highly addictive. Once again, he marvelled at the pure genius of modern minds.

  They drove around the city that Elliot was born in but no longer recognised. It would’ve been mind-blowing without the benefit of the era decoder but still, Elliot was often left breathless and awed. The new buildings had a beauty to their structure that he’d never considered possible and the old buildings, with their sooty grime removed and their worthiness newly revealed, were scarcely recognizable. Elliot took the chance to catch his breath and exclaim over all that he’d seen when they stopped for lunch at a small eatery. “I saw pictures on the walls at Darcy’s house that I thought were fantastical and astonishing but nothing has prepared me for what I’ve seen today.” He gazed around in wonder at the restaurant, enthralled by the busy staff and the small crowd of patrons. “The people living in these times have so much choice at their fingertips.”

  “Most of us don’t appreciate it. It’s been fun seeing everything through your eyes.”

  “I’m amazed that people aren’t tripping over their own feet as they walk down the street each day. There’s so much to see.”

  “People are generally staring down at their phones rather than noticing what’s happening around them. Do you feel more confident about staying here now?”

  “I do. I like it. I feel more alive than I’ve felt in months.” He meant it too. He had a renewed sense of excitement about what life might hold for him in the days and weeks ahead. The dark cloud that had engulfed him since Annie’s death finally felt as if it had lessened and thinned, dissolved into tatters by the thrill of his new experiences.

  “Tell me about you, Elliot. Where are your family? Our background research didn’t turn up anyone of significance in your current life, although I have to admit that I haven’t had time to read all the notes. You aren’t supposed to be here yet and I thought I had more time to prepare.” Ramona sat the remains of her ham sandwich on her plate and sat back in her chair, waiting for him to begin. She was certainly a bossy one and that hadn’t changed as the day progressed.

  Elliot finished the final crust of his own sandwich before speaking. Bread was definitely not the same in 2020 as the bread he’d loved back in his own time. He missed the chewy, hearty texture of the homemade crusts he’d grown up with. Did he want to tell Ramona about his family? He hadn’t thought of them for a long time now and he knew better than anyone that some things were probably best left in the past.

  “Unless you arrived in the Victorian era via another time machine?” she prompted when he didn’t immediately respond, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “That would explain your lack of parents.”

  “No,” he said gravely, interpreting her teasing as a serious question. “My experience this morning in the time machine was my first. My parents died five years ago this spring when their tenement house caught fire. There was nothing anyone could do and everyone inside perished.”

  Her eyes melted into that beguiling expression of compassion once again and he kept his own gaze fixed on his plate to prevent himself from falling in. It felt curiously intimate to sit and eat at this small table with a woman who was more or less a stranger to him. It was easier to deal with when she was trying to order him around. “I’m so sorry. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “One brother. He drowned at the age of three. Fell into the washerwoman’s tub and no one saw him until it was too late. I vaguely remember him but I was only five-years-old myself at the time.” Samuel had followed him everywhere like a small, devoted puppy, he remembered that much. His only brother, gone forever in an appalling and wholly preventable accident. He’d found a sense of brotherhood in his friendship with Robert Hepworth in recent years, and he was glad of it. A man could pride himself on his independence but he also needed to keep people whom he could trust around him.

  “My goodness, you’ve had a difficult life.”

  “I lost two sisters,” he said bluntly, caught up in his tale now. It was still difficult to talk about Julia and Charlotte. He’d adored the twin girls, idolized the very ground they walked upon. They were sweet little things, alike as two peas in a pod, with softly curling blonde hair and long-lashed brown eyes that promised devastating heartbreak to their unfortunate suitors once the girls reached adulthood.

  “They died too, didn’t they?” She was watching him closely and he knew she was gauging his responses and adding them to her mental portfolio. He’d arrived at the conclusion that Ramona wasn’t one to waste her words and that her earlier chatter was probably out of character. The surprise of his arrival may have shocked her into revealing more about herself than she intended.

  “Both gone,” he confirmed. “Gone but never forgotten.”

  “Of course. Can you tell me what happened?”

  He closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out that awful scene as it reared up unbidden in his mind. He was fifteen at the time and the girls just six-years-old. He’d taken them down to the market to buy vegetables for supper and while his back was turned, Julia ran out onto the street to chase a scrap of colorful paper borne along on the breeze. Charlotte, always just one step behind her twin, had followed and the carriage driver had no time to stop. Naturally, he blamed himself and he knew he always would. “Street death,” he
said abruptly. “The hooves of carriage horses and the heavy wheels of a carriage are more dangerous than most people realise.” Twice now, a runaway horse and carriage had played a pivotal part in the terrible deaths of people he loved.

  “That’s horrible. I’m so, so sorry. Your life story reads like a litany of loss.”

  “We all have our crosses to bear.” He didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

  Her sigh was barely audible above the low hum of noise in the cafe. “Yes, we do.” She picked up the remainder of her sandwich and sank her teeth into it while Elliot returned his attention to tasting his very first cup of coffee. Ramona had persuaded him to order one but he still found the smell off-putting. If he compared the scent of hot tea to a sweet seduction of the senses then the smell of coffee was a battering ram that took no prisoners. However, once he’d taken a sip his doubts melted away. The liquid surged through his blood stream and assaulted his brain with a sudden and energetic burst. He immediately knew that the robust beverage could become another addiction and he was more than happy to surrender to it. The words of a bawdy tune that Robert used to sing snaked through his mind, a lyrical and ribald piece about a bonny wench luring unwitting men in with the promise of hidden delights. Coffee was indeed a very bonny wench.

  Ramona was unaware of his drifting thoughts and his newly developing obsession with the drink in his hand. “Arrangements are already underway to get you some cash, a credit card, and a phone. We should have those by tomorrow.” She’d switched back to her efficient and business-like self now and he was glad of the change of topic. Talking about his family opened old wounds and while he’d grown used to the scars, he did not want to deal with that agonizing rawness again. The rawness in his heart now was for Annie alone.

  “How many people are involved in this? You’re managing the task and Darcy is overseeing it but you’ve already spoken about other candidates and contacts. Is there an entire web of people that I haven’t met yet? When will I meet them?”