The Passage

by Irina Shapiro

  “What do you think, Bruce?” I asked him as I quickly changed into my finery. “Have I completely gone round the bend? I feel like Alice about to go down the rabbit hole. I just bet Hugo Mad Hatter Everly is waiting for me at his place, ready to serve tea and banter with His Grace the White Rabbit.” Somehow I felt even more foolish for talking to an effigy, so I stopped blathering and got on with the task at hand. I stowed away my modern-day clothes in a bag behind the tomb of the knight, and carefully pushed the button in the flower. My hand shook with nerves, and I held my breath, almost expecting nothing whatsoever to happen. Wouldn’t I feel the fool standing there in my seventeenth-century garb in front of a solid stone wall, but the stone began to move, a little quieter this time. I glanced at the stone steps shrouded in darkness. “Here goes nothing,” I told the knight and made my way to the wooden door at the top.

  Thankfully, the church was empty on this end as well. I looked around to make sure everything looked as it did the last time. It did, but before leaving I walked up to the altar and glanced at the registry lying open on the pulpit. There were lines and lines of marriages, births and deaths, all neatly recorded in the same hand -– the year 1685. This seemed to jibe with what I’d seen before, so I wrapped the cloak around me and left the church, steeling myself for the walk to the house. I was shaking like a leaf, more from anxiety than cold, but it was a rather bitter morning with a thin crust of frozen snow covering the ground and making me feel numb within minutes. Modern clothing was so much warmer and more practical. A frigid wind blew through the cloak since there were no buttons to keep it closed. All I had was a tie at the throat, which allowed the cloak to billow around me like a full sail. The hood kept blowing off my head and wind whistled in my ears as I walked toward Everly Manor, which rose out of the mist stark and proud, not dwarfed by the Victorian mansion which put it out to pasture in the nineteenth century.

  I had a speech all prepared in advance, but every last word fled my memory as I got closer, my mind screaming for me to turn back and go back to my own time, my own place. I barely registered the pounding of hoofbeats behind me until it was too late and I felt the hot breath of a galloping horse inches from my face as the horse knocked me off my feet and sent me flying to the side of the narrow lane, the rider screaming something at me as I fell ass over teakettle and hit my head on the frozen earth, my ankle twisting painfully as I landed. For a moment, everything went quiet and still as I stared up at the colorless sky and saw a lone raven circling above. Was it a sign of doom? I wondered dazedly.

  The huge horse restlessly stomped its hooves, its nostrils flaring and its round eyes rolling from side to side in panic as the man dismounted and ran to my side. Hugo Everly’s face appeared above mine, his eyes full of concern as he ran his hands over my limbs to see if anything was broken. His lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear anything he said over the ringing in my ears and the roar of blood pounding through my veins. I tried to form words, but nothing came out. I didn’t think I was seriously hurt, but my thoughts were muddled, and I felt suddenly very dizzy and disoriented. Oh, God, did I have a concussion? I closed my eyes, partially to keep my head from spinning, and partially to hide from that dark gaze that was skewering me mercilessly. Hugo’s curls fluttered in the wind, his hat shadowing the top half of his face and making him appear even more menacing.

  Hugo effortlessly lifted me off the ground and carried me toward the house, his features arranged in just the same scowl that was immortalized in his portrait. His lips moved from time to time, but I still couldn’t hear anything besides the beating of my own heart, which seemed magnified a thousand-fold, obliterating all other sounds. I closed my eyes in exasperation. I finally met the man and couldn’t even talk to him. What a fool I’d been to go off like that. The past was full of danger, not the least of it being a galloping horse that came out of nowhere.

  The door flew open and Hugo strode past a shocked servant, whose pale round face was dominated by a pouty mouth currently frozen in an O of surprise. Hugo settled me on a chaise, and turned to pour a drink from a silver decanter. He sank to his knees and held the cup to my lips until I took a sip. It was brandy, and very good brandy, if I was any judge. He continued to help me drink until the glass was empty. My heart rate began to slow down and the ringing in my ears finally subsided somewhat. The room was quiet except for my breathing, which still sounded awfully loud to my ears. Hugo seemed to be holding his breath as he leaned over me.

  “Can you hear me, madam? Are you badly injured?” His voice was like the brandy, smooth and calming, and not at all what I expected.

  “I... I think I’m all right,” I mumbled as I tried to sit up. Hugo unceremoniously pushed me right back down as he rose to his feet.

  “Don’t try to get up; you’ll be overcome by vertigo. Just rest awhile. Would more brandy help?”

  Under the circumstances, I had no idea what would help, but I nodded, and he poured another inch into the cup. I accepted the cup from his hand and took small sips between gulps of air while Hugo removed his hat and tossed it onto a nearby chair, followed by his wig. The simple gesture instantly changed his appearance, making him appear younger and less intimidating. I’d always wondered how men wore their own hair under those ridiculous wigs and was surprised to see that Hugo’s hair was shorn short, the dark waves only about two inches long.

  Hugo pulled up a straight-backed chair and took a seat next to me, taking my hand gently as he did so. “Hugo Everly at your service, madam. Please accept my heartfelt apology for the mishap. I didn’t see you walking there. In truth, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the lane and wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings as I was preoccupied with my own thoughts. Very careless of me. I trust you are not badly hurt?” he asked again, searching my face for confirmation that he wasn’t responsible for causing me irreparable harm.

  “I just got the wind knocked out of me, that’s all. I’ll be quite all right, thank you, Lord Everly,” I mumbled, suddenly very conscious of my absurd position.

  “May I know your name?”

  “Neve Ashley.” I was surprised to see Hugo look at me with renewed interest; his eyes narrowed as he studied my features.

  “The niece of Anthony Ashley Cooper, the Earl of Shaftesbury?” he asked, clearly stunned. “I thought the Christian name was Nell, but I must have been mistaken.”

  I was about to deny any relation to the Earl of Shaftesbury, who’d been a fervent supporter of the Duke of Monmouth, but then reconsidered. If it bought me a little time, then what was the harm? Not like I was planning to stay and impersonate the lady.

  “Ah… yes,” I mumbled as I averted my eyes. What if he decided to take me home? I was so busy considering the what ifs that I hardly noticed what Hugo Everly was saying.

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” I asked, feeling even more flustered. Hugo cocked his head to the side, appraising my mental state, which he must have found to be somewhat sound as he sat back and continued his train of thought.

  “I was just saying how sorry I was to hear of your recent bereavement,” he said, still watching me like a hawk. I, of course, had no idea whom he was referring to, so nodded sadly in the hope that he would just change the subject. He didn’t.

  “I had great respect for your uncle and didn’t believe a word of the accusations of treason against him. A blatant fabrication. It’s tragic that he had to die in exile, so far away from the home that he so loved.”

  “Yes, it was,” I agreed, hoping I wouldn’t give myself away by making some glaring mistake. I was saved from further discussion of my ‘uncle’ by the appearance of a boy. He was twelve or thirteen, still sweet-faced and childish, but with a hint of impending manhood hovering somewhere behind the eyes and in the silky fuzz that darkened his upper lip. He stopped dead when he saw me on the chaise, but a stern look from Hugo put paid to any speculation he might have had regarding the situation.

  “Mistress Ashley, may I present my nephew, Clarence Hiddle
ston.” Clarence gave me a stiff bow and averted his eyes in embarrassment. Clearly, he thought he had walked into some kind of romantic tryst. Judging by the boy’s shock, they weren’t a regular occurrence.

  “Where’s your mother, Clarence?” Hugo asked irritably. “Is she still abed?”

  “You know she is,” Clarence answered sullenly and gave Hugo a look of such disdain that it nearly made me laugh. Seems teenagers were much the same in any age. “She rarely stirs before noon. Shall I get her?”

  “Yes, tell her we have a guest, and be quick about it.” Clarence threw Hugo a defiant look and left the room, walking slowly in hopes of provoking his uncle. I turned away from Hugo to hide my smile.

  “Are you hungry? Should I call for some refreshment?” Hugo asked solicitously, suddenly realizing how compromising we looked with me lying down and him leaning over me. He didn’t wait for me to answer as he pulled a cord to summon a servant. A young girl of about fourteen appeared a few moments later. She seemed intimidated by her master, but he was perfectly courteous to her.

  “Please ask Cook to send up some refreshments. We have a guest.”

  “Right away, your lordship,” the girl stammered.

  “And more brandy, Harriet,” he called after her as she scampered from the room.

  I looked at the departing girl and decided that it was probably time to make my escape. I’d gotten what I came for, and although I had no idea what would eventually happen to Hugo, I wasn’t about to find out. I needed to get back to the church and to my own time since I was feeling worse by the minute. I was lying to this man, pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and taking advantage of his hospitality. It felt all wrong, and I was ashamed of myself. I could tell that he was brimming with questions about how I came to be on his property and why I was alone and on foot. He was too polite to interrogate me, especially since he thought I was the relative of an earl, but sooner or later he would ask, and no answer I could give him would make sense. I needed to leave. I made to sit up, but a wave of dizziness brought me right back down, reminding me that I recently hit my head. My ankle was also throbbing in a most alarming way, and I let out a little yelp as I tried to move it.

  “Where are you going?” Hugo was instantly by my side. “You just turned white as a sheet. Please, Mistress Ashley, lie back down and rest. Shall I summon a physician? It might take a few hours though since the nearest medical man is at Blackney.”

  “No, please don’t trouble yourself. I’ll be all right. I just need to rest a bit longer.”

  “You need to rest for several days. I will make sure you’re comfortable and my sister will act as chaperone, so you mustn’t worry about any damage to your reputation.” I might be concussed, but at least my virtue would be safe, I thought with an inward giggle. Chivalry was alive and well.

  “Ah, here’s Jane,” Hugo announced with some relief as a woman appeared in the doorway. She was some years younger than Hugo, which placed her at around thirty, and was dressed in a sober gown of charcoal gray. Her hair was pulled back from her face with only a few curls on either side to cover the ears, but she was without question the woman I’d seen in my dream. She was older now, the bloom long gone from her cheeks and her hair sprinkled with silver, but there was no mistaking the doe-like dark eyes and the full mouth that was once quite sensuous, and so like her brother’s.

  “My sister was recently widowed,” Hugo said as he introduced us. “Her husband is greatly missed.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” and I was. She looked bereaved, and I briefly wondered if she ever got to marry her lover.

  “Thank you. You are very kind,” Jane replied. She took the seat that Hugo vacated a few minutes ago and folded her hands in her lap, clearly waiting for an explanation as to what a strange woman was doing lying on a chaise in the parlor with her brother anxiously hovering about.

  “Jane, this is Mistress Ashley. She was walking in the lane when Ronan and I came along and nearly ran her down. I’m afraid she’s had a bad fall. I’ve invited her to stay with us for a few days until she recovers,” Hugo explained, sounding awfully guilty.

  “I told you that horse was a demon,” Jane replied, the color rising in her cheeks. “Tis only a matter of time before you kill someone.”

  “He’s just young and spirited, that’s all.” Hugo sounded defensive, but Jane just glared at him as if he were an errant schoolboy.

  “It really was all my fault,” I interjected, not wanting to see them argue. “I wasn’t paying attention and it was rather foggy outside, so Lord Everly wouldn’t have spotted me until it was too late.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, my dear,” Jane replied, still gazing at her brother. “That horse of his is a menace. Nothing wrong with a good English mare, but my brother must have an Arabian stallion.” I could see that she was teasing him now, her annoyance forgotten.

  “I won him in a card game off Henry Howard, the Duke of Norfolk,” Hugo explained with a guilty smile. “The Duke was loath to part with him. Ronan is rather volatile, but that’s what makes him such a challenge.”

  “Ronan doesn’t seem like a name fitting for an Arabian stallion,” I mused, watching Hugo. I could see that he was fond of the horse, possibly because he’d won it off a duke. I couldn’t help wondering if it had been the Duke of Norfolk I’d seen him with at the church.

  “No. His name was originally Aamir, but Norfolk had it changed to Ronan since the groom refused to go near the “Saracen Devil,” as he called him. There’s much superstition in this country against anything foreign.”

  “As well there should be,” Jane countered. “We have everything we need right here.” Jane finally seemed ready to move on from the topic of Hugo’s horse, turning to me in a most solicitous manner.

  “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?” she asked. “I do hope Hugo had the presence of mind to send for some refreshments.

  “He did. He was most kind,” I answered, hoping that Jane would stop fretting.

  A few minutes later, Harriet came bustling into the room with another decanter of brandy and some sort of rolls which smelled heavenly. “Just out of the oven, your lordship,” she said, setting the tray down and giving Hugo a slight curtsy.

  “Ah, thank you,” he replied absentmindedly. Hugo looked from me to Jane and back again, as if he suddenly felt caged and needed an excuse to get out.

  “Jane, I need to go out for a short while. Will you look after Mistress Ashley while I’m gone? I will return before nightfall, but if you should require me urgently, just send Jem with a message to Nash House.”

  “Don’t worry, Hugo. We will be just fine, won’t we? I’m a very good nurse. I nursed my husband for two years before he finally left us, may he rest in peace,” Jane explained, turning to me. “Can I get you a sausage roll? Our cook rather excels at these, partially because she knows Hugo likes them. All the women in this house simply fall over themselves to make him happy.”

  Hugo just smiled, knowing he was being teased. I could almost bet that Jane was one of the women who fawned over him. She seemed awfully fond of her brother, and his gaze noticeably softened when he looked at her.

  “Off with you then,” Jane said, shooing Hugo from the room. “We will be just fine, won’t we, Mistress Ashley?”

  “I’m sure we will,” I replied, wishing that I could just flee, but realizing that I would have to spend at least a few hours at Everly Manor before I was well enough to make my way back to the church.

  Hugo snatched his wig and hat off the chair, gave me a stiff bow and hastened from the room.

  “Just like a man,” Jane remarked with an indulgent smile as she watched Hugo through the window.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, warming up to Jane instantly. She’d voiced my own thoughts.

  Jane tore her eyes away from the window and gave me a knowing smile. “Why, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Hugo feels guilty for the injury he’s caused you, so he would much rather put it out of his mind
and drink and dice with his friend instead. By the time he returns, I will assure him that you are quite well, and he will forgive himself and put the incident behind him.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at Jane’s summing up of the situation. She was probably right, but that was just as well. There was no reason for Hugo to feel guilty. He hadn’t expected anyone to be in the lane and didn’t see me in the mist until he was almost upon me. I should have heard the pounding of the hooves, but I was lost in my own thoughts and didn’t get out of the way in time. It was an accident, one that brought me in contact with Hugo Everly and his sister. I had to admit that they weren’t at all what I imagined them to be, and I would have liked to get to know them better. As it was, I had to get back to my own time, and I would leave as soon as I could manage the walk back to the church. In the meantime, I’d spend a little time with Jane. She had a serenity about her which I found comforting, and we easily fell into conversation, as women tend to do.

  Chapter 8

  Hugo Everly galloped out of the yard, bound for Nash House. He’d seen Jane’s brief look of reproach when he said he was leaving, but Jane didn’t know him quite as well as she thought. He wasn’t fleeing out of a sense of guilt or responsibility; he needed to see Brad for an entirely different reason. Bradford Nash was his oldest and most trusted friend, the only person he could confide in. He’d meant to visit him today anyway, but now the visit took on a whole new urgency. Hugo’s mind tried to untangle the dilemma, but despite the application of all his powers of reasoning, he couldn’t come up with any explanation.

  “Hugo, a pleasure to see you,” Bradford exclaimed as Hugo was admitted. He was impeccably dressed as always, but his thick blond hair looked as if he’d been raking his fingers through it and there were worry lines around his eyes. “Have you lunched? I was just about to sit down. Join me. I have a good wine you might like; a fine vintage.” Bradford ushered Hugo into the dining room and invited him to sit down.