Ruby Red: Edelstein Trilogie 01 (27 page)

“Gwyneth, you have no idea what you may do later on.”

I had to spend a moment digesting that. Then I said, “It could just as easily have been you.”

“Yeah.” Gideon retreated into his side of the confessional, and I saw the flash of his white teeth in the dim light. He was smiling. “I think we’re going to have a rather exciting time in the near future.”

That gave me a warm tingly feeling inside. Presumably the prospect of more adventures ought to have scared me, but at that moment I felt nothing but wonderful happiness.

Yes, it
would
be exciting.

We said no more for a while. Then Gideon asked me, “Back in that coach, when we were talking about the magic of the raven—do you remember?”

Of course I remembered. Every single word.

“You said I couldn’t have that magic because I was only a perfectly ordinary girl. And you know lots of girls like me. Girls who go to the loo in groups and say mean things about Lisa because she—”

A finger fell on my lips. “I know what I said.” Gideon had leaned toward me from his side of the cubbyhole. “And I’m sorry.”

What?
I sat there thunderstruck, unable to move or even breathe. His fingers gently touched my lips, stroked my chin, and felt their way up my cheek to my temple.

“You’re not ordinary, Gwyneth,” he whispered as he began stroking my hair. “You’re totally, absolutely extraordinary. You don’t need the magic of any raven to be special to me.” He leaned as close as he could get, with his head and arms through the opening of the confessional window, and when his lips touched my mouth, I shut my eyes.

Okay. So now
I
was going to faint.

Sunny day, 73 degrees in the shade.

Lady Tilney arrives punctually at nine to elapse.

Traffic in the city held up by a protest march: a group of deranged females demanding votes for women. We’ll be founding colonies on the moon before they get what they want.

Otherwise, no unusual incidents.

F
ROM
T
HE
A
NNALS OF THE
G
UARDIANS

24 J
UNE
1912

R
EPORT
: F
RANK
M
INE
, I
NNER
C
IRCLE

EPILOGUE

Hyde Park, London

24 June 1912

“
THESE SUNSHADES
are really useful,” she said, twirling hers in a circle. “I can’t understand why they went out of fashion.”

“Maybe because it rains all the time here?” He smiled sideways at her. “But I agree, they’re very attractive. And white lace summer dresses suit you wonderfully. I’m even getting used to the long skirts. It’s always such a nice moment when you take them off.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to not wearing jeans anymore,” she said sadly. “I miss them badly every day.”

He knew very well it wasn’t just the jeans she missed so badly, but he was careful not to say so. They walked on for a while in silence.

The park seemed so peaceful in the summer sun; the city spread out behind them looked as if it were built to last forever. But he remembered that in two years’ time, the First World War would begin, and German zeppelins would be dropping bombs on London. Maybe they’d have to retreat to the country for a while.

“She looks just like you,” she said suddenly.

He knew at once who she was talking about. “No, she looks like you, Princess! It’s only her hair she gets from me.”

“And that way of tilting her head to one side when she’s thinking something over.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

She nodded. “Isn’t this strange? Two months ago we held her in our arms as a newborn baby, and now she’s sixteen, and half a head taller than me. And only two years younger!”

“Yes, crazy!”

“I’m so relieved that she’s all right. But Nicholas … why did he have to die so early?”

“Leukemia. I’d never have expected that. Poor girl, to lose her father so young.” He cleared his throat. “I hope she’ll keep away from that boy, my … er, nephew, or whatever he is. These family trees are impossible.”

“Oh, it’s not all that difficult—your great-grandfather and his great-great-grandfather were twin brothers. So your great-great-grandfather is also his great-great-great-grandfather.” She laughed, noticing his blank expression. “I’ll draw you a family tree sometime.”

“I tell you, no one can work it out. Anyway, I don’t like the young man. Did you notice the way he was ordering her about? Luckily she wasn’t taking it lying down.”

“She’s in love with him.”

“No, she isn’t.”

“Yes, she is. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“So how do you think
you
know it?”

“Oh, because he’s simply irresistible. My God, did you see his eyes? Green like a tiger’s. I think I felt a bit weak at the knees myself when he flashed them at me, even though he was angry.”

“What? You can’t mean that seriously! Since when have you liked green eyes?”

She laughed. “Don’t worry. Your eyes are the best of all. For me, at least. But I think she likes green eyes best.”

“She’s not in love with that arrogant young man!”

“I tell you, she is. And he’s just like you when you were younger.”

“What? That…! He’s not in the least like me.
I
never ordered
you
about, never!”

She grinned. “You did, too!”

“Only when it was necessary.” He tipped his hat back on his head. “I just want him to leave her alone.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Well, yes,” he admitted. “Isn’t that normal? When I next see him, I’m going to tell him to keep his hands off her.”

“I’ve an idea we’ll be crossing their path quite often in the near future,” she said, and now she wasn’t smiling. “And I’ve an idea you ought to start polishing up your skill at fencing. There’s something in the air, and it’s coming our way.”

He threw his walking stick in the air and caught it nimbly as it came down. “I’m ready. How about you, Princess?”

“Ready when you are.”

THE CAST OF MAIN CHARACTERS

IN THE PRESENT

IN THE MONTROSE FAMILY
:

Gwyneth Shepherd
, in Year Ten at school, discovers one day that she can travel in time

Grace Shepherd
, Gwyneth’s mother

Nick
and
Caroline Shepherd
, Gwyneth’s younger brother and sister

Charlotte Montrose
, Gwyneth’s cousin

Glenda Montrose
, Charlotte’s mother, Grace’s elder sister

Lady Arista Montrose
, grandmother of Gwyneth and Charlotte, mother of Grace and Glenda

Madeleine (Maddy) Montrose
, Gwyneth’s great-aunt, sister of the late Lord Montrose

Mr. Bernard
, butler in the Montrose household

AT ST. LENNOX HIGH SCHOOL
:

Lesley Hay
, Gwyneth’s best friend

James Augustus Peregrine Pympoole-Bothame
, the school ghost

Cynthia Dale
, in Gwyneth’s class

Gordon Gelderman
, in Gwyneth’s class

Mr. Whitman
, teacher of English and history

AT THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE GUARDIANS IN THE TEMPLE
:

Gideon de Villiers
, like Gwyneth, can travel in time

Falk de Villiers
, Gideon’s uncle twice removed, Grand Master of the Lodge of Count Saint-Germain, to which the Guardians belong

Thomas George
, member of the Inner Circle of the Lodge

Dr. Jacob White
, medical doctor and member of the Inner Circle of the Lodge

Mrs. Jenkins
, secretary at the headquarters of the Guardians

Madame Rossini
, dress designer and wardrobe mistress at the headquarters of the Guardians

IN THE PAST

Count Saint-Germain
, time traveler and founder of the Guardians

Miro Rakoczy
, his close friend, also known as the Black Leopard

Lord Brompton
, acquaintance and patron of the count’s

Margaret Tilney
, time traveler, Gwyneth’s great-great-grandmother, Lady Arista’s grandmother

Paul de Villiers
, time traveler, younger brother of Falk de Villiers

Lucy Montrose
, time traveler, niece of Grace, daughter of Grace and Glenda’s elder brother, Harry

“
YOUNG PEOPLE
, this is a church! No kissing here!”

Startled, I opened my eyes and hastily sat up straight, expecting to see some old-fashioned priest hurrying indignantly toward me with his cassock billowing, all set to deliver a stern lecture. But it wasn’t the priest of this parish church who had disturbed our kiss. It wasn’t a human being at all. The speaker was a small gargoyle crouching in the pew right next to the confessional, as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

Although that was hardly possible. Because, basically, my state of mind couldn’t be called mere surprise. To be honest, my powers of thought had switched off entirely.

It had all begun with that kiss.

Gideon de Villiers had kissed me—me, Gwyneth Shepherd.

Of course I should have wondered why the idea came into his head so suddenly—in a confessional in a church somewhere in Belgravia in the year 1912—just after we’d been in headlong flight, full tilt ahead, and my close-fitting, ankle-length dress with its silly sailor collar hadn’t been all that got in my way.

I could have made analytical comparisons with kisses from other boys, trying to work out just why Gideon did it so much better. I might also have stopped to remember that there was a wall between us, and a confessional window through which Gideon had squeezed his head and arms, and these were not the ideal conditions for kissing. Quite apart from the fact that I could do without any more chaos in my life, after discovering only three days ago that I’d inherited my family’s time-traveling gene.

The fact was, however, that I hadn’t been thinking anything at all, except maybe
oh
and
hmm
and
more!

That’s why I hadn’t noticed the pulling sensation inside me, and only now, when the little gargoyle folded his arms and flashed his eyes at me from his pew, only when I saw the confessional curtain—brown, although it had been green velvet a moment ago—did I work it out that we’d traveled back to the present.

“Hell!” Gideon moved back to his side of the confessional and rubbed the back of his head.

Hell?
I came down from cloud nine with a bump and forgot the gargoyle.

“Oh, I didn’t think it was that bad,” I said, trying to sound as casual as possible. Unfortunately, I was rather breathless, which tended to spoil the effect. I couldn’t look Gideon in the eye, so instead I kept staring at the brown polyester curtain in the confessional.

Good heavens! I’d traveled nearly a hundred years through time without noticing because that kiss had so totally and absolutely … well, surprised me. I mean, one minute here’s this guy grousing away at you, the next you’re in the middle of a wild chase to get away from men armed with pistols, and suddenly—like, out of nowhere—he’s telling you you’re something special and kissing you. And, wow, could Gideon kiss! I instantly felt green with jealousy, thinking of all the girls he’d learnt to do it with.

“No one in sight.” Gideon took a cautious look out of the confessional and then emerged into the church. “Good. We’ll catch the bus back to the Temple. Come on, they’ll be expecting us.”

I stared blankly past the curtain at him. Did that mean that now he was carrying on as if nothing had happened? After a kiss (or before a kiss would really be better, but it was too late for that), you’d think a few basic questions might be cleared up, wouldn’t you? Was the kiss some kind of declaration of love? Or had we just been snogging a little because we had nothing better to do?

“I’m not going on a bus in this dress,” I said firmly, getting to my feet with as much dignity as possible. I’d sooner have bitten off my tongue than ask any of the questions that had just been going through my head.

The dress was white, with sky-blue satin bows at the waist and the collar, probably the latest fashion in the year 1912, but not quite right for wearing on public transport in the twenty-first century. “Let’s take a taxi,” I added.

Gideon turned to me, but he didn’t object. In that early twentieth-century coat, and with those neat trouser creases, he seemed to feel he wasn’t necessarily dressed for a bus ride either. Although he did look really good in the costume of the time, particularly now that his hair wasn’t combed back behind his ears like two hours ago. Locks of it were falling untidily over his forehead.

I stepped out into the nave of the church to join him and shivered. It was icy cold in here. Or was that because I’d had almost no sleep over the last three days? Or because of what had just happened?

I guessed my body had manufactured more adrenaline in those three days than in all my sixteen years of life. So much had happened, and I’d had so little time to think about it. My head felt like it was bursting with new information and emotions. If I’d been a character in a strip cartoon, I’d have had a thought bubble with a huge question mark in it hovering over me. And maybe a couple of death’s-heads as well.

I gave myself a little shake. So if Gideon was carrying on as if nothing had happened—well, thanks a lot, I could do the same.

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” I said brightly. “I’m cold.”

I tried to push past him, but he took hold of my arm and stopped me. “Listen, about all that just now…” He stopped, probably hoping I was going to interrupt him.

Which of course I wasn’t. I was only too keen to hear what he had to say. I also found breathing difficult when he was standing so close to me.

“That kiss … I didn’t mean…”

Once again it was only half a sentence. But I immediately finished it in my mind.
I didn’t mean it that way.

Well, obviously, but then he shouldn’t have done it, should he? It was like setting fire to a curtain and then wondering why the whole house burned down. (Okay, silly comparison.) I wasn’t going to make it any easier for him. I looked at him coolly and expectantly. That is, I
tried
to look at him coolly and expectantly, but I probably really had an expression on my face saying,
Oh, I’m cute little Bambi—please don’t shoot me!
There was nothing I could do about that. All I needed was for my lower lip to start trembling.

I didn’t mean it that way! Go on, say it!

But Gideon didn’t say anything. He took a hairpin out of my untidy hair (by now my complicated arrangement of ringlets must have looked as if a couple of birds had been nesting there); he took a strand of it and wound it around his finger. With his other hand he began stroking my face, and then he bent down and kissed me again, this time very cautiously. I closed my eyes—and the same thing happened as before: my brain suffered that delicious break in transmission. (Well, it was transmitting
oh, hmm
, and
more!
)

But that lasted only about ten seconds, because then a voice right beside us said, irritated, “Not starting that stuff up again, are you?”

Startled, I pushed Gideon slightly away and stared right into the face of the little gargoyle, who was now hanging upside down from the gallery under which we were standing. To be precise, he was the ghost of a gargoyle.

Gideon had let go of my hair and now had a neutral expression on his face. Oh, God! What must he think of me now? I could read nothing in his green eyes, or at the most I saw slight surprise there—and annoyance?

“I … I thought I heard something,” I murmured.

“Okay,” he said, slowly but in a perfectly friendly tone.

“You heard
me
,” said the gargoyle. “You
heard
me, you did!” He was about the size of a cat, and he had a catlike face, except that in addition to his big, pointed, lynxlike ears, he had two round horns, little wings on his back, and a long, scaly, lizard tail ending in a triangular point. He was lashing the tail back and forth in excitement. “You can see me too!”

I didn’t reply.

“We’d better go,” said Gideon.