Authors: Kerstin Gier
“A good thing we didn’t go to any trouble with authentic hairstyles,” I said when we were outside Lady Tilney’s front door. I nervously patted my hair, which was sticking to my scalp. My teeth were still chattering.
Gideon rang the bell and squeezed my hand more tightly.
“I don’t feel too good about this,” I whispered. “We still have time to disappear
again. Maybe it would be best to think what order to ask our questions in first, in peace and quiet.”
“Hush, hush, hush,” said Gideon. “It’s all right, Gwenny, I’m with you.”
“Yes, you’re with me,” I said, and I went on repeating it like a soothing mantra. “You’re with me you’re with me you’re with me.”
The white-gloved butler opened the door, like last time. He didn’t look at all pleased to
see us.
“Mr. Stillman, isn’t it?” Gideon gave him a friendly smile. “Would you be kind enough to announce us to Lady Tilney? Miss Gwyneth Shepherd and Gideon de Villiers.”
The butler hesitated for a moment and then said, “Wait here,” closing the door in our faces.
“My goodness. Mr. Bernard would never allow a thing like that,” I said indignantly. “Oh, well, he probably thinks you have a pistol
with you again and you’ve come for some of his employer’s blood. He’s not to know that Lady Lavinia stole your pistol, and I’m still wondering just how she fixed that. I mean, what on earth did she do to take your mind off essentials? If she ever crosses my path again, I’ll ask her, not that I’m sure I really want to know. Oh, dear—here I go talking like a waterfall again. I always do that when
I’m nervous. I don’t think I can face them, Gideon. And I can hardly breathe, or it could be that I’m simply
not
breathing, not that that makes any difference if I’m immortal.” At this point, I could hear my voice rising hysterically, but I went on. “Better step back, because next time the door opens, that man Stillman could well—”
The door opened.
“Hit you in the face,” I murmured all the same.
The beefy butler waved us in. “Lady Tilney will see you upstairs in the small drawing room,” he said stiffly. “As soon as I’ve searched you for weapons.”
“If you must!” Gideon spread his arms out and let Stillman pat him down.
“All right. You can go up,” said the butler, when he had finished.
“How about me?” I asked, puzzled.
“You’re a lady. Ladies don’t carry guns.” Gideon smiled at me, took
my hand, and led me up the stairs.
“Talk about carelessness!” I glanced at Stillman, who was following a few steps behind us. “You mean he’s not afraid of me just because I’m a woman? He ought to see
Tomb Raider
sometime. For all he knows, I could have a nuclear bomb under my dress and a hand grenade in each cup of my bra. I call it antifeminist!” I could have gone on like this without stopping
till around sunset, but Lady Tilney was waiting for us at the top of the stairs, slender and straight as a ramrod. She was definitely a beautiful woman—even her icy expression couldn’t change that. I’d been going to smile spontaneously at her, but as the corners of my mouth began to stretch, I made them stop. In 1912 Lady Tilney was much more alarming than later, when she’d started making crochet
pigs as a hobby, and I felt uncomfortably aware that not only was our hair all over the place, my dress was also hanging like a damp sack. I wondered instinctively whether hair dryers had been invented yet.
“You again,” said Lady Tilney to Gideon, in a voice as cold as her eyes. Only Lady Arista could have outdone her. “You’re certainly persistent. You ought to have realized last time you visited
that I have no intention of giving you any of my blood.”
“We’re not here about your blood, Lady Tilney,” Gideon replied. “That was all settled long ago.” He cleared his throat. “We’d very much like to talk to you and Lucy and Paul again. This time without any … misunderstandings.”
“Misunderstandings!” Lady Tilney folded her arms across her breast in its lace blouse. “Last time, young man, you
can’t be said to have behaved well. Indeed, you showed a shocking propensity for violence. Moreover, I do not know where Lucy and Paul are at this moment, so even if the circumstances were different, I would not be able to help you.” She paused for a moment, while her eyes rested on me. “However, I think I could arrange a conversation.” Her voice was half a degree warmer. “Perhaps with Gwyneth on
her own, and of course in some other period of t—”
“I really don’t want to be discourteous, but I’m sure you will understand that we have very little time at our disposal,” Gideon interrupted her and led me on, up to the top of the stairs, where I and my dress dripped water all over the expensive rug. “And I know that Lucy and Paul are staying with you, so please would you just call them? I promise
to behave myself this time.”
“This is not…,” began Lady Tilney, but then a door opened and shut somewhere in the background, and soon after that, a graceful young woman joined her.
Lucy.
My mother.
I held Gideon’s hand even more tightly while I stared at Lucy, this time taking in every detail of her appearance. All the other Montrose women were undeniably like each other, with red hair, pale
porcelain complexions, and big blue eyes, but I was looking mainly for anything she had in common with me. Were those my ears? Didn’t I have the same small nose? And the curve of her eyebrows—weren’t mine just the same? And didn’t my forehead trace the same funny folds when I frowned?
“He’s right. We don’t want to waste any time, Margaret,” said Lucy quietly. Her voice was shaking very slightly,
and it went to my heart. “Would you be kind enough to find Paul, Mr. Stillman?”
Lady Tilney sighed, but when Stillman looked inquiringly at her, she nodded. As the butler passed us and climbed up another set of stairs, Lady Tilney said, “I would just like to remind you, Lucy, that last time he held a pistol to the back of your head.”
“I’m really sorry about that,” said Gideon. “On the other
hand … the circumstances at the time left me no option.” He gave Lucy a meaningful glance. “Now, however, we’ve come by information that has changed our minds.”
Nicely put. I had a feeling that it was about time I contributed something soothing to this conversation. But what?
Mother, I know who you are—come to my arms?
Lucy, I forgive you for abandoning me. Nothing can part us now?
I must have
made some funny kind of sound, and Gideon correctly interpreted it as the beginning of a fit of hysterics. He put his arm around my shoulders and supported me just at the right time, because my legs suddenly seemed about to give way.
“Maybe we should go into the drawing room?” suggested Lucy.
Good idea. If I remembered rightly, there were chairs to sit on in there.
The tea table wasn’t laid
in the small, round room this time, but otherwise it was just like when we were last here, except that the flower arrangement had been replaced by delphiniums and stocks. A group of armchairs and delicate little straight-backed chairs stood in the bay window looking out on the street.
“Please sit down,” said Lady Tilney.
I dropped into one of the upholstered chintz armchairs, but the others
stayed standing.
Lucy smiled at me. She came a step closer and looked as if she might stroke my hair. I nervously jumped up again. “I’m sorry we’re so wet. We never thought of bringing an umbrella,” I babbled.
Lucy’s smile widened. “What does Lady Arista always say?”
I couldn’t keep back a grin. “Child, I won’t have you soaking my good cushions!” we said in chorus. Suddenly Lucy’s expression
changed. Now she looked like bursting into tears.
“I’ll ring for some tea,” said Lady Tilney in matter-of-fact tones, picking up a little bell. “Peppermint tea with plenty of sugar and hot lemon.”
“No, please!” Gideon despairingly shook his head. “We can’t stop for that. I don’t know for sure if I’ve picked the right time, but I very much hope that, from your point of view, my meeting with Paul
in 1782 has already taken place.”
Lucy, who had recovered her composure, slowly nodded, and Gideon breathed a sigh of relief. “Then you’ll know that you gave me the count’s secret papers. It took us a little time to work out everything they told us, but now we know that the philosopher’s stone is not a cure for all diseases, it’s just supposed to make the count immortal forever.”
“And his immortality
comes to an end the moment Gwyneth is born, right?” whispered Lucy. “Which is why he’ll try to kill her as soon as the Circle is closed?”
Gideon nodded, but I looked at him in some annoyance. We hadn’t had time to discuss those details properly yet. However, this didn’t seem the right time for it, because he was already going on. “Everything you two did was to protect Gwyneth.”
“You see, Luce?
I told you so.” Paul had appeared in the doorway. He was wearing his arm in a sling, and as he came closer, his amber eyes were moving back and forth between Gideon, Lucy, and me.
I held my breath. He looked only a few years older than me, and in normal life, I’d have thought he looked brilliant with that raven-black hair, the unusual de Villiers eyes, and the little dimple in his chin. I supposed
he couldn’t help the side-whiskers. It was probably the fashion for men at this period. But side-whiskers or no side-whiskers, he really didn’t look old enough to be my father, or anyone’s father, in fact.
“Sometimes trusting people in advance pays off,” he said, looking Gideon up and down. “Even people like this young ruffian.”
“And sometimes you just get outrageous good luck,” Lucy snapped
at him. She turned to Gideon. “I’m very grateful to you for saving Paul’s life, Gideon,” she said with dignity. “If you hadn’t happened to be passing, he’d be dead now.”
“You always exaggerate, Lucy.” Paul made a face. “I’d have thought of a way to get out of the hole I was in.”
“Sure,” said Gideon, with a grin.
Paul frowned, but then he grinned as well. “Okay, maybe not. Alastair is a crafty
so-and-so, and a damn good swordsman. And then there were three of them! If I ever meet him again—”
“That’s not very likely,” I murmured, and when Paul looked at me with a question in his eyes, I added, “Gideon pinned him to the wallpaper with a saber a bit later in 1782. Even if Rakoczy found him in time, I don’t think he’ll have survived that evening for long.”
Lady Tilney sank into a chair.
“Pinned him to the wallpaper with a saber!” she repeated. “How barbaric!”
“No more than that psychopath deserved.” Paul put a hand on Lucy’s shoulder.
“Definitely,” Gideon quietly agreed.
“Oh, I’m so relieved,” said Lucy, her eyes on my face. “Now that you know the count is planning to kill Gwyneth when the Circle closes, it will never happen!” Paul was going to add something, but she went
straight on. “With those papers, surely Grandpa can finally convince the Guardians that we were right and the count never had the welfare of mankind at heart, only his own. And those idiotic Guardians, particularly the repulsive Marley, won’t be able to dismiss the evidence out of hand anymore. Huh! Dragging the memory of Count Saint-Germain through the dirt, were we? He wasn’t even a real count,
just an out-and-out villain, and oh—like I said, I’m so relieved, so very, very relieved!” She took a deep breath, giving the impression that she could go on and on like this for hours, but Paul put his arm around her.
“You see, Princess? It will all turn out all right,” he whispered gently, and although he wasn’t talking to me, for some strange reason, it brought me literally to the brink of
tears. However hard I tried, I couldn’t hold them back.
“But it won’t,” I burst out, and never mind about drenching the cushions, I dropped into the nearest chair. “It won’t all turn out all right. Grandpa’s been dead for six years, and he can’t help us now.”
Lucy crouched down in front of me. “Don’t cry,” she said helplessly. But she was crying herself. “Darling, you mustn’t cry like that,
it’s not good for the…” she sobbed. “His heart, I suppose? I was always telling him to lay off those buttercream cakes.…”
Paul bent over us, and it looked as if he would have liked to burst into tears himself.
Great. If Gideon joined in as well, we could compete with the summer showers outside, no problem.
It was Lady Tilney who put a stop to all that. Taking two handkerchiefs out of her skirt
pocket, she handed one each to Lucy and me, and said in a brisk tone of voice startlingly like Lady Arista’s, “Plenty of time for all this later, children. Pull yourselves together. We must concentrate. Who knows how much time we have left?”
Gideon patted my shoulder. “She’s right,” he whispered.
I sniffed once and then laughed when I heard the trumpeting sound as Lucy blew her nose into her
handkerchief. Hopefully that was one habit I hadn’t inherited from her.
Paul went over to the window and looked down at the street. When he turned back, his expression was perfectly neutral again. “Right. Back to business.” He scratched his ear. “So Lucas can’t help us now. But even without him, with those papers, it must be possible to convince the Guardians at last that the count’s intentions
are selfish.” He looked questioningly at Gideon. “And then the Circle will never be closed.”
“It would take too long to get the authenticity of the papers checked,” replied Gideon. “At the moment, Falk is Grand Master of the Lodge, and he might even just possibly believe us. But I’m not a hundred percent sure. So far I haven’t ventured to show the papers to anyone in the Lodge.”
I nodded. Back
on that sofa in the year 1953, he had told me about his suspicion that there was a traitor among the Guardians. “You see,” I said, joining in, “there’s always a possibility that among the Guardians of our own time, there could be one or more who know about the real effect of the philosopher’s stone and are backing the count’s plans to make himself immortal.” I tried to concentrate on facts, and
to my surprise, I succeeded remarkably well, in spite of all the emotional stuff sloshing around in my mind. Or maybe because of it.
“Suppose Grandpa discovered who the traitor was? That would also explain why he was murdered.”