“If we can’t tell Celine anything, how can we expect her to help us?” Damien argued.
“I didn’t say you could never tell her, but it is quite foolish to impart such information the first time you meet the woman. She has no reason to be sympathetic nor to be trusted to keep it secret.”
“I just don’t like the idea of staying back here longer than we need to, especially when we have no idea why we’re here,” Michael countered.
“We shall tell her when the time is appropriate. No sooner. I’m not even sure I believe this incredible story. I can’t imagine how Duchess Northcott may react to the news. There will be no returning for you if Duke Northcott deems it best to question you himself about your story.”
“All right, all right,” Damien conceded. “You make a valid point. We’ll follow your timeline.”
“Our next opportunity to converse with Duchess Northcott will be at the ball we hopefully secured an invitation to. We’ll make our next carefully crafted move then. However, we must be careful. Duke Northcott will be in attendance. Too much attention shown unto his wife will surely not go unnoticed.”
“Yeah, we’ve got to stay off his radar,” Michael agreed.
“His what?” Alexander questioned.
“His radar,” Michael answered.
Damien shook his head. “Radar hasn’t been invented yet.”
“Ohhhhh,” Michael answered.
“He means we don’t want to be noticed by Duke Northcott,” Damien explained.
“Interesting turn of phrase. I quite agree with the sentiment. With that settled, we should return home and discuss the next phase of our plan.”
Celine returned to the desk in her bedroom, intending to continue her correspondence for the day. She found herself unable to focus. Something disturbed her about the encounter with Alexander Buckley and his cousins. While it was a surprising visit to begin with, since she had little to do with the Buckley family, there was something more that unsettled her.
Celine had a gut feeling about these men, and her premonitions tended to be correct. What was her sixth sense trying to tell her? She dismissed the questions, determined to focus on the task at hand. After half an hour, she found herself unable to concentrate.
She left the task in favor of playing the piano. However, she also found this task to be a tedious exercise, and again, was unable to concentrate. Instead, she paced the floor of the sitting room, settling on the window seat in front of the large bay window. She remained there, lost in thought until Marcus returned home.
He interrupted her musings as he entered the sitting room, pouring himself a brandy. “Good evening, my dear,” he greeted her.
“Good evening, Marcus. Back already from the House of Lords?” Celine inquired.
“Already? It is not that early.”
“Oh,” Celine answered, glancing at the clock, “my apologies. I must have lost track of the time and did not realize the lateness of the hour.”
Marcus approached her, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “And what has you in such a pensive mood, my darling?”
Celine hesitated. “It is nothing you need concern yourself with, husband,” she replied.
“Hmm. Something is on your mind. Tell me what it is?”
“Alexander Buckley paid me a call this afternoon.”
“Buckley? Whatever did he want?” Marcus inquired.
“To request an invitation to an upcoming social event for his American cousins who are visiting.”
“That’s rather odd.”
“Yes, I found it so.”
“Did you agree?”
“I did. I shall call upon Lady Blackburn tomorrow to discuss the possibility of an invitation to her ball.”
“Hmm,” Marcus muttered.
“Do you object?” Celine questioned.
“No. No, I do not object. But I find it rather odd.”
“I quite agree. However, I did not see the harm in it.”
“These cousins, what are their names?”
“Michael and Damien Carlyle. They paid the call with Alexander earlier.”
“I’ve never heard the name,” Marcus responded. “I shall inquire after them tomorrow.”
“Please let me know what you find?” Celine requested.
“I shall. We should dress for dinner, dear.”
“Yes,” Celine agreed, kissing his cheek before leaving the room. “I shall go at once.”
Present day, Bucksville
Celine sat on the edge of Damien’s bed, his hand in hers. She had hoped to find him awake earlier this morning. Neither Michael nor Damien’s condition had changed overnight, both of them still unresponsive. Millie checked their conditions first thing in the morning, noting no major changes.
Celine fussed with his covers, rubbed his forearm and murmured a few encouraging words. She found the situation impossible. She had faced tough circumstances before, but this one was gut wrenching. She had never faced an unknown illness of a human in the past. She felt helpless.
By lunchtime, Damien showed no signs of waking. Celine chose to eat a light lunch in Damien’s room, refusing to leave him alone. After her lunch, she rejoined him on his bed, lying next to him as he slept. Celine watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically. It brought her a sense of peace to count his breaths.
Her fixation on his breathing aided in her ability to notice a slight change. Around 1:30 p.m., Celine perceived a change in his breathing pattern. His breathing quickened; his pulse raced. His brow crinkled as though something confused him. Celine rose from the bed, racing to the hallway. She called to Millie, who hurried down the hall from her room toward Damien’s bedroom.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s Damien. His breathing has changed, and his pulse is racing.”
Millie began a physical exam. Celine slipped to Michael’s room, noting he suffered from the same acute physical changes. She returned to Damien’s room as Millie finished her exam. “Michael is exhibiting a similar set of symptoms.”
“His breathing is elevated, as is his pulse,” Millie agreed. “He made a few minor vocalizations while I examined him as well. Nothing major, just a few groans. There is something else rather odd, though.”
“What is it?” Celine asked.
“His body temperature seems to have dropped. It’s only by a slight amount. It’s no cause for concern at this moment, but I’d like to determine if Michael exhibits this symptom as well.”
Celine nodded and Millie exited to perform an exam on Michael. She returned ten minutes later. “He is exhibiting the exact same symptoms.”
“What do you suppose it means?” Celine questioned.
“I’m not sure. However, I am hopeful this is their bodies’ way of trying to restart and come out of the coma they are in.”
“Did you notice the expression on his face? Is he in pain?”
“He doesn’t appear to be. He may be dreaming.”
“Dreaming? That’s a good sign, right?”
“Yes. It means his brain is active, which is a very good thing. Will you stay with him for the afternoon? Notify me of any changes. I’ll return before dinner for another exam. I’d like to monitor his temperature.”
“Yes, I’ll stay.”
“I’ll ask Gray to sit with Michael.”
“Thanks,” Celine replied, climbing onto the bed with Damien. Celine slipped her hand under the covers, grabbing his hand. She didn’t want to remove his arm from under the covers with his lowered body temperature. She stroked his hair with her other hand. “Damien,” she murmured, “are you trying to come back to us?”
Chapter 16
1812, London
“I’m still surprised she granted you an audience,” Gray replied, wandering around the sitting room following dinner.
“She was most gracious,” Alexander admitted. “She agreed to solicit an invitation to Lord Blackburn’s upcoming ball.”
“Gracious? You call that gracious?” Damien question
ed.
“Michael and Damien found her behavior odd,” Alexander mentioned.
“Odd?” Gray inquired.
“She was nothing like the Celine we know,” Michael admitted.
“Perhaps because she is NOT the Celine you believe you know,” Gray countered. “That Celine is a figment of your collective imaginations.”
“It’s not!” Damien exclaimed, leaping from his seat to pace the room.
“I cannot fathom why you are continuing with this madness, cousin,” Gray said to Alexander.
“It isn’t madness,” Michael argued. “Something is very wrong here.”
“According to you, who can’t remember how you got here or what you’re supposed to do here but who claim to be time travelers from the future. You’re mad. You belong in an institution!”
“It’s far from implausible. And they do know what we are,” Alexander pointed out.
“There’s a simple explanation for that,” Gray answered.
“Which is?” Michael chimed in.
“You discovered the existence of the supernatural and it drove you mad!”
“For the hundredth time, we’re not crazy,” Damien griped. “And even if we are, I’d like to go home and in order to do that we need Celine’s help.”
“And to secure Duchess Northcott’s help, we must create a plan,” Alexander reminded them. “We have made no progress on that front.”
“Short of just asking her for her help, what else can we do?” Damien questioned.
Alexander pondered for a moment. “You claim to be well acquainted with Duchess Northcott,” Alexander began.
“Very well acquainted,” Damien assured him.
“Yes, they are very well acquainted with a woman who does not exist,” Gray added.
Alexander ignored him. “Is there something you know about her that might be used to gain her trust? Some little-known information that could signify a connection with her?”
Damien and Michael exchanged a glance. “Uh,” Damien began as he pondered the question.
“We know about her parents,” Michael began. “Uh, Marquis Gaspard Devereaux was her father. Her mother died giving birth to Celine. She has an older sister, Celeste, who is also a witch. She’s the one who introduced Celine to the Duke.”
“Well, that should prove helpful,” Gray mocked.
“What?” Michael questioned.
“Ignore him, he’s being unhelpful,” Alexander advised.
“I’m being truthful. Everyone knows that information. I’ve never met the woman and I know that information,” Gray responded.
“She spoke English before her father realized it,” Michael suggested, recalling any information they learned when meeting Celine in Martinique as a young woman. “He hired her an English tutor, but she didn’t need it, she spoke English. Does that help?”
Alexander considered it. “Interesting, but I’m not certain it’s substantial enough to make any impression on the Duchess.”
Michael sighed. Damien snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute,” he began. “Her father, Celine’s father, is he alive?”
“No,” Alexander answered. “He is not. He died quite some time ago.”
“When she was sixteen?” Damien questioned.
“I’m not certain, but it sounds correct.”
“How?”
“The poor man was murdered,” Alexander recounted.
“Days before her sixteenth birthday. He was murdered on his way to return to France, right?”
“Yes, I believe that was the account. What does this have to do with gaining her trust?”
“I’d like to know the same,” Gray added. “I’m not sure bringing up the painful memory of her father’s demise is going to win you any favor with the Duchess.”
“It’s not his death, it’s who is responsible.”
“Some wretched seaman who robbed him for a few pieces of gold if memory serves,” Alexander answered.
“No, no, no, no,” Michael corrected. “That might be the man who actually committed the murder, who wielded the knife, but he’s not the man responsible.”
“What are you getting at?” Gray inquired.
“The man responsible for the murder of Marquis Devereaux is none other than Duchess Northcott’s loving husband, Duke Marcus Northcott.”
“What?” Alexander questioned, stunned.
“I find that hard to fathom,” Gray added.
“It’s true. Marcus Northcott had her father killed so she would have no one and she’d turn to him,” Michael explained.
“But she had a married sister. Theodore VanWoodsen became her legal guardian following her father’s death.”
“Celeste and Teddy were up to their eyeballs in the Duke’s dealings. They more than happily allowed him to do whatever he wanted with her.”
Silence fell over them for a few moments. “This is incredible,” Alexander replied.
“Incredible or not, can you prove any of it?” Gray questioned.
Michael and Damien glanced to each other. “No,” Damien admitted.
“So, the information is useless,” Gray replied.
“How did you come by this information?” Alexander queried.
“We were there the night Celine became… what she is,” Damien answered. “That ceremony… he… the Duke tossed her father’s dead body in front of her and told her he was her new family. The Celine we know realized very quickly his involvement in her father’s murder.
“Obviously, this Celine did not. She married the man,” Gray countered.
“By choice or because she had no other options? Does this Celine not realize it, or has she suppressed it?” Damien asked rhetorically.
“She seems quite content with him,” Gray argued. “She parades about high society as though she owns everyone.”
“That’s a gross overstatement. Besides, she’ll likely be queen of this country one day. I suppose she knows that,” Alexander added.
“I assume the man who committed the murder is long since dead,” Damien mused to Michael.
“Probably. I mean, either Celine killed him like the Duke asked that night or the Duke killed him that night like he did when we were there,” Michael responded.
“Damn it!” Damien exclaimed. “We can’t go to Celine and tell her the Duke had her father killed but we have no proof of anything to back that up.”
“Perhaps we should conclude for the evening, gentlemen,” Alexander suggested. “Allow us all some time to think.”
With reluctance, Damien and Michael agreed. “I guess so,” Damien said. “Good night.”
Everyone said their goodnights and Michael and Damien retired for the night. Damien spent the better part of the night tossing and turning. They had no way of gaining Celine’s trust. They were no closer to solving this puzzle or to returning home.
Their memories were returning, but the process was slow and painstaking. Perhaps once they recalled all the details leading up to their trip, they would have a breakthrough. Until then, they were stuck guessing at everything. And upsetting Gray, as usual. Gray, Damien mused. The man stuck in his mind. An idea formed, and a smile crossed his face. He’d run it past Michael in the morning. With his mind settled, he turned over, falling asleep for the rest of the night.
Damien bounded out of bed the next morning. He dressed as fast as he could and made his way to Michael’s room. He rapped at the door, hoping Michael was awake. Michael opened the door, still fastening his shirt. “Good morning,” he greeted Damien.
“Good morning, did I wake you?”
“No, I was up,” Michael assured him as Damien entered the room.
“Good. I have an idea, and then I figured we could keep working on our memories.”
“Sounds good, what’s the idea? Hope we wake up from this nightmare soon?”
“Haha, no,” Damien chuckled. “Last night I was going over everything in my head, over and over. And I was thinking how no matter where we are, Gray seems to hate us.”
“Yeah, no kidding. What is that guy’s problem?”
“In general, I don’t know, but this time I might have an idea.”
“Which is?”
Damien grinned at him. “Well, in all the other instances when we’ve time traveled, it’s been to fix something, right?”
“All two times, you mean,” Michael countered.
“Whatever. It stands to reason we’re supposed to fix something again this time. What if we’re supposed to fix the situation between Celine and Gray?”
“Fix it? How? She’s married to another man!”
“That I’m not sure about, but what if Celine sent us back to make sure she meets Gray, falls in love with him and marries him?”
“Okay, well, she sent us to the wrong year because she was supposed to meet Gray in the 1700s. Not in 1812.”
Damien considered it. “Yeah, yeah, I agree it’s not the best time, but what else could we be here for?”
Michael shrugged. “To make sure she doesn’t ruin the world with the Duke?” Damien made a face at him. “Okay, okay, your idea makes more sense. But how do we do that?”
“No idea. I only got as far as an idea of why we’re here.”
“I guess we’ll figure it out as we go.”
“Like always,” Damien agreed.
“All right. Let’s move on to working on those memories,” Michael said.
“Okay, where did we leave off?” Damien asked.
“We remembered being at Alexander’s a good bit and everyone was concerned about your health.”
“Right. My health, my health, why my health?” Damien pondered, pacing the room.
They spent their morning hours before and after breakfast attempting to recall more of the events leading to their trip to 1812. Neither of them could come up with any additional memories. The process became frustrating for them both.
After lunch, Alexander had business to attend to. He asked if they would care to join him for the walk and some fresh air. They agreed it might be best to relax their minds.
Gone: A Shadow Slayers Story (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 3) Page 19
