Love's Labyrinth (9 page)

“I can smell the food.” Alison looked longingly out the window.

“Nicholas said he’d send something up to us.” Olivia crossed the room and sat down opposite Alison.

Just as she did so, there was a knock at the door.

“Enter.”

A sheepish Geoffrey ducked his head beneath the lintel and pushed the door open with his foot. In his hands he carried a basket covered with a linen napkin. “My apologies, mistresses. I know you, Mistress Alison, said you were hungry before. I had no way to slip away ‘til now. I hope the food is to your liking.” He placed the basket on the table with a little bow.

The fragrance of freshly baked bread and roasted meat rose from the basket, and Alison pushed the napkin aside. “There’s everything you need in there, I think.” Geoffrey looked from one to the other with supplication, and clearly seemed torn between a desire to stay and talk and the knowledge that Nicholas demanded his presence with their guests.

“We’ll be okay,” Alison said.

“We’ll be fine,” Olivia put in, seeing confusion cross his face at the strange word.

“Okay?” He repeated. “It means—fine?”

“Yeah,” said Alison, “it’s a general sort of all-purpose word. It gets used a lot.”

“Ah.” He nodded, digesting the information. “I see.

Okay.” He smiled. “Okay.” He nodded at the food. “This is—okay?”

Alison laughed, and Olivia was glad to see her friend relax. “Right. The food’s okay, but you better get back to your brother, because I have the feeling you won’t be okay if you don’t.”

“Ah.” He returned her smile. “Right.” He crossed to the door, reached for the doorknob, and turned back to the women. I’ll be back as soon as I can. And you’ll see, everything will be—okay.” He shut the door behind him.

Alison turned to Olivia. “For a nerd, he’s kinda cute.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “This is hardly the time to notice. What’d he bring us?”

Alison removed the napkin. “Hmm. Here’s what looks like bread—wow—whole grain, huh?”

She handed Olivia what looked like a large dinner roll.

“Actually,” said Olivia thoughtfully, turning the crusty loaf in her hands, “this is probably the equivalent of our most refined white bread. What else?”

“A nice cheese…a flask of something…here’s some cherries…and, well, I guess this must be the equivalent of take-out burgers, huh?” She held up a haunch of what smelled like beef on an earthenware platter. “Here’s more napkins, and plates, and two cups, and knives. Hmm, no forks or spoons.” She placed the items on the table.

“Forks weren’t in widespread use yet,” Olivia said. “And I guess there’s nothing here that requires a spoon. Let’s eat, shall we?”

For a few minutes, the women were silent, munching the crusty bread, the mild cheese, and the roasted meat.

The food, although somewhat bland, had an undeniably fresh taste to it, which defied Olivia’s attempts to describe it.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” asked Alison between bites, as if reading her thoughts. “Better than I thought it would be, anyway.”

“Yes.” Olivia nodded. “Salt would help, but otherwise, it’s not bad at all.”

“Meat kind of tastes barbecued, don’t you think?”

“Well, it was roasted on a spit over an open flame. I guess it is barbecued.” Olivia shrugged and they went on eating.

Finally Alison wiped her mouth and fingers. “Liv? What if we can’t get back?”

Olivia met her friend’s eyes reluctantly. The same thought had occurred to her more than once, but she’d managed to suppress it, pushing it down into the dark recess where she kept all the thoughts she’d rather not confront. “We haven’t even tried yet, Allie.”

“I was thinking the whole time you were gone…” Alison turned her head away from Olivia, but from the little catch in her voice, Olivia could tell she was upset. “What if we just can’t get back? What if we’re stuck here?”

“Oh, Allie.” Olivia set aside her napkin, rose, and put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see. We’ll get back. I know we will.”

Alison took a deep breath. “I’m not so sure, Liv. And it’s one thing for you—you know so much about the history, and you’re an actress. You’ll be able to figure out what to do. But me—I’m a walking liability every time I open my mouth! You at least have an idea of the lingo, me, I’d sound like a puffed-up snob if I tried to talk that way. If we can’t get back, I’m screwed.”

“Allie, it’s going to be okay. I’m sure of it. Look, if it worked once, it’s bound to work again.”

“But if it’s really as simple as building a maze, why isn’t it done all the time? Why aren’t there people popping in and out of the past every day?”

“Well,” Olivia said slowly, trying to think of something that would allay her friend’s fears, “who says it isn’t that simple? We just don’t know, Allie. Do you really think the governments would want to encourage this sort of thing? Or let the public know about it?” She retreated to her chair and picked up her napkin. “Come on, let’s try to remember exactly how it happened. And, um, while we’re at it, why don’t you pour us some of whatever’s in that flask? We might as well experience as much of the past as we can while we’re here.”

“A word if you will, my lord.” Sir John Makepeace stepped out from the side of the pavilion just as Nicholas signaled for the musicians to begin their final round of dance music. The middle of the pavilion was crowded with dancers, and Elizabeth herself was leading, energetically dancing with a red-faced, sweating Leicester, who was practically jogging in time at her side.

Nicholas allowed himself to be led a little way apart. “Sir John?”

“Your two—guests,” began Sir John, his thin mouth pursed tight. “I was quite surprised to see them.”

“No more so than I,” answered Nicholas, with complete honesty. Damn Geoffrey and his single-minded passion.

“Indigent cousins, I assume?”

“Ah, well…” Nicholas hesitated. It would never do for the man he was considering as a future father-in-law to think that extraneous relations burdened the Talcotts. “Not exactly. Unexpected, as you say, but not indigent.”

“Good.” Sir John gave him a tight-lipped smile and turned away.

“Sir John,” Nicholas began. “I was expecting to meet with you on the morrow to discuss your daughter’s hand.”

An odd expression crossed the knight’s face. “If you wish, my lord.”

“Is it something you no longer wish to entertain?”

“My daughter is young yet, my lord, being but fifteen and somewhat flighty. But we can talk on’t, tomorrow.”

Abruptly he turned and walked quickly away, leaving Nicholas wondering what could have brought about the knight’s change of heart. Geoffrey, he thought. Geoffrey and those damnable women. Involuntarily, Olivia Lindsley’s face flashed before him—the smooth oval upturned, the way her dark eyes had flashed with fire, her sweet voice raised in song. She was nothing like Patience Makepeace, whose pale looks and skinny frame were like a watered-down version of Sir John. Not exactly the sort of wife he’d envisioned for himself, but the promise of a healthy dowry and her father’s inheritance were exactly the sort of infusions the Talcott fortunes desperately needed.

Especially after this, he thought, hands on his hips, surveying the dancing crowd. Elizabeth’s red head bobbed enthusiastically as she romped through a country dance with yet another courtier—a younger one, this time, who looked as though he was better at keeping up with the Queen than Leicester was. Leicester had returned to his seat, where he was quaffing large gulps of wine. He’d been a good friend to Nicholas. Perhaps he could advise on whether or not an alliance with Sir John’s family was judicious.

Night had fallen by the time Geoffrey came back for them. A soft knock on the door roused Olivia from a fitful sleep. Beside her, Alison lay oblivious under the sheet, curled up on her side, wearing only her underwear. Her discarded costume was folded across one of the chairs. Olivia sat up and paused, trying to remember where she was. Then a long sliver of moonlight falling through the leaded panes of the window made her remember. The past. Fifteen eighty-seven. Talcott Forest. Olivia slid to the floor, grabbing a blanket from the bed and wrapping it around herself. “I’m coming!” she whispered loudly.

She opened the door and peered out. Geoffrey Talcott stood in the hall, wearing only his shirt, and hose. He held a flickering candle. “Do I disturb you, mistress?” He glanced away, his eyes avoiding hers, and Olivia realized that in her blanket and underwear, she was probably in a much more undressed state than Geoffrey was used to seeing.

“We fell asleep,” she replied. “It’s been a stressful day.”

He looked momentarily confused, and then he recovered. “To be sure, mistress, full of—” he hesitated over the awkward usage.” Stress. For all of us. Can you rouse Mistress Alison? I would like to try to send you back through the maze—the torches are lit in the park for the Queen’s visit, and I vow it’s still as bright a light as day out there.”

Olivia glanced over her shoulder. “Sure. I mean, of course. Will you wait?”

“I am madam’s most humble servant,” he said, without a trace of insincerity.

Olivia shut the door. She quickly pulled her costume back on and jostled Alison awake. “Come on,” she said, fumbling with the zipper of her gown. “Geoffrey’s here. It’s time for us to go back.”

At that Alison bolted upright, instantly alert. “Thank God.” She hauled herself out of bed as Olivia handed her the costume. “Thanks.” In a few short minutes, they were both dressed and presentable. “Let’s go!”

Olivia turned to look at the room. “Good-bye, sixteenth-century,” she murmured.

Together, the three made their way down the staircase and out of the house, into the nearly silent park. Servants still scurried amid the gardens, carrying baskets of refuse, linens, and other supplies. High torches cast a flickering yellow light, and Olivia was reminded of a production of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
she and her father had attended in an open-air theater one summer. At the entrance to the maze, they paused.

“Now what?” asked Alison.

Geoffrey looked a bit worried, Olivia thought.

He glanced around and held out the candle. “Hold this, please?” He reached into his leather doublet and withdrew a folded parchment. He unfolded the thick parchment, and in the gleam of the torchlight. Olivia saw a map or plan of the maze, drawn in thick strokes of black ink. Arrows ran various directions, clockwise and counterclockwise, and here and there, certain arrows were crossed out and others, pointing different directions, were substituted. Oh dear, thought Olivia. This doesn’t seem very clear.

“All right.” Geoffrey handed Olivia the map. “This is the entrance, here, and this, well—” He broke off, frowning. “Yes. I think that’s what I meant—yes, that’s it. You make sure you turn to the left—”

“Are you sure about this?” demanded Alison. Her face in the candlelight was tired and drawn, but her eyes were alert, and her shoulders were rigid with tension.

Geoffrey hesitated. “As sure—as certain as I can be of anything in these matters, mistress.” His forehead was creased with a frown, and his mouth was thin with worry, Olivia thought. Suddenly she was much less certain that they would be able to go back.

“Can we take that with us?” She asked, more as a way to break the tension she could feel emanating from both Alison and Geoffrey like a signal.

“Well…” He hesitated once more, then thrust the paper at Olivia. “Here you are. Take it. And Godspeed.”

“Come on, Liv.” Alison tightened her hold on the candle and stepped into the maze. The candlelight wavered dangerously.

“Farewell, Master Talcott.” said Olivia. She clutched the parchment, still warm from his body, and stepped into the maze after Alison. The candle flickered in the darkness, throwing up huge shadows on either side of the hedges. Holding the map of the maze between them, and keeping the candle high, the two managed to find their way through the darkness. Carefully, following the arrows first in one direction, and then another, they rounded corners and stepped through archways, twisting and turning, doubling back and forth. Finally, the candle was nearly gone. They reached the final arch.

“Thank God,” breathed Alison. She took a giant step through the dark arch, into the darkness beyond. Olivia, following with the candle and the map, heard her groan.