“Begging your pardon, miss, but there’s a letter for you.” It was the receptionist.
Startled, Laura dragged herself away from the view to stare at the New York postmark. “Thank you,” she said, and smiled up at the women, who smiled back and then returned to her desk.
The letter was from Kyle, and had been redirected yesterday from the London apartment, where the janitor had the hotel address. Why would Kyle write to her after their acrimonious parting?
Don’t tell me he’s disputing ownership of something or other!
With a sigh, she opened it.
Hi, there, honey. I know your first impulse will probably be to tear this up and jump on the bits, but if you’ll give me a chance to explain, maybe things could get better between us.
Get better? Hell would freeze over first, she thought.
I guess I treated you real bad, and deserve not to be given another chance, but I just can’t get you out of my head. I screwed up by seeing someone on the
side, but I was a fool. It wasn’t until I lost you so completely
that I realized what a huge mistake I’d made. God, you don’t do things by half, do you? Not only did you leave New York, you left the States as well! It’s taken me all this time to persuade Josie to give me your London address. I guess you can say she’s a very loyal friend; she certainly all but spat in my eye when I turned up at her door.
Laura sighed, wishing Josie had held out.
Anyway, you must be wondering where all this is leading. The truth is, I miss you, honey, and I want you back, so, like they say in all the best scripts, I’m going to drop everything to follow you, I’m not needed on-set for a month now—my character’s been sent to Alaska to look for his long-lost twin brother, would you believe! That makes two brothers, a half-sister, two stepsisters, three lovechildren and a fairy godfather since the show began! As I was saying, I have a month off, so I’m using the break to visit England and get you back. So expect me soon, and you’d better believe I won’t leave until you give me another chance.
I guess what I’m saying is that I love you, Laura. I can’t get you out of my system, and if you knew what an Oscar-winning performance I put in to get your address out of Josie, you’d know I was telling the truth.
I know you’ll probably hate getting this letter, and that if you knew when I was coming, you’d be out of town for the day, so I’m not giving any dates. Just give me a chance to redeem myself. I adore you. Kyle.
Laura was bemused. Never in a million years had she expected anything like this. Not only an abject apology, but a wealth of groveling too!
Slowly she refolded the letter. Kyle meant what he said, he’d just turn up at her door, so she had to give the matter some thought between now and then. To begin with, did she still want him? She’d spent the past months trying to forget Kyle McKenna, and now he was trying to barge his way back into her life.
With a sigh, she pushed the letter into her jeans pocket. She wished Jenny were here, for it would be good to discuss the pros and cons of Kyle with a girlfriend. Pros and cons? There shouldn’t be any pros!
With Freudian expressiveness, she speared a sausage with her fork. She was on vacation, and Kyle McKenna could go to the devil right now. Besides, last night she’d been with a man so shatteringly exciting that he left Kyle in the shade! A man she’d like to see again, in spite of his coolness when they’d parted after the waltz. In the space of a heartbeat Kyle ceased to exist, and she decided that after breakfast she’d go back to the gate by the bridge. Just in case there might be another adventure...
As she drove out of the hotel grounds a little later, she had to slam on the brakes to avoid an elderly man in a motorized wheelchair, who turned in from the steep lodge corner right in front of her. His sudden appearance sent her heart into her mouth,
The little vehicle wobbled to a standstill, and he smiled apologetically. He had rosy cheeks, bright blue eyes, thick white eyebrows, and a bushy beard that covered the lower half of his face, so she couldn’t help thinking what a great Santa Claus he’d make.
She leaned out. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, I just didn’t see you!”
“It was my fault, I should have looked first.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“There’s no harm done.”
As he trundled on along the hotel drive, his wheelchair motor whirring busily, she realized he must be Gulliver Harcourt, unless there was another man in such a wheelchair in the neighborhood. Oh, well, now wasn’t the time to talk. She’d leave it for later.
She was pleased to remember the tortuous route back down to the little bridge, and the gate beyond. This time she was sure to park well out of the way of tractors. Everything looked much better in sunlight, but then she’d seen it on a bright day in May, hadn’t she? She smiled to herself. The stream sparkled coldly and the elder bushes were leafless, but nearby catkins seemed very golden as they trembled against the clear blue sky. Even the rattle of the ash keys seemed more pleasant. But would anything happen today?
The gate was open this time, and she heard a tractor on the breeze. Shading her eyes, she saw it working a field further on. She was sure it was the same farmer she’d encountered last night. There were fresh tractor marks in the mud and she glanced behind to be certain her car wasn’t in the way of anything. Then, crossing her fingers, she approached the gateway, but as she reached it the view didn’t change. She could still see the hotel and hear the tractor.
Deeply disappointed, she started to walk away. Clearly there wasn’t to be a close encounter this time, but then she hesitated. Maybe she’d give it one last try. She’d had to be partly
over
the gate last night, so maybe she had to actually go into the field. Turning again, she stepped through into the field, and with a jolt found herself where she wanted to be.
It was warm, sunny May again, and the original Deveril House spread grandly across its hillside again. She was Regency Laura, and in the lane behind her waited the carriage Blair had sent to convey her from the King’s Head. She’d just asked the coachman to halt while she plucked up courage for the imminent interview. She needed all her composure because she felt there was little chance of being engaged. No matter what Marianna said, Blair Deveril didn’t want to be constantly confronted with his wife’s ghost. The beloved shade, as Stephen was occasionally wont to privately describe Celina.
Wondering what lay in store, Laura smoothed her skirts nervously and then glanced down at her clothes. Today she wore a lilac velvet spencer over a plain white lawn gown, and her straw bonnet had wide purple ribbons. Regency Laura knew that the finer points of the clothes had been modish in about 1813, but nevertheless she was pleased with them. Sir Miles Lowestoft might be a monster, but he was a monster with good taste in fashion, although her false wedding ring was an unpleasant reminder that his good taste did not extend beyond clothes.
She heard men’s voices by the carriage, and turned. The lane had lost its modern paved surface, and was little more than a dirt track. The coachman was leaning over to speak to someone just out of sight. His voice was broad Gloucestershire. “I didn’t reckon I’d see you just yet, Ha’penny Jack. The fair’s not for another few days.”
The unseen man replied. “I knows I’m early, but there’s a plump widder woman I’ve a mind to see in the village. Name of Dolly Frampton.”
“But will
she
want to see
you
, that’s the question! You traveling showmen think you’re so marvelous, but you ent nothin’ really. You can’t neglect the likes of Dolly from one year to the next, and expect ‘er to welcome you with open arms when you deigns to come back. You’d best know she’ve been seen out and about with the butler from the big ‘ouse.”
Laura moved to see what someone called Ha’penny Jack was like. He proved to be a burly fellow of about thirty, with lank brown hair and a round face. There was a battered three-cornered hat on his head, and his brown coat had seen better days, but his clothing didn’t command much attention, instead it was the immense gaudily-colored box he carried on his back. He was bowed by its weight, and at first Laura couldn’t think what on earth it was. Then she realized, if he was a traveling showman the box had to be his puppet theater, and he was called Ha’penny Jack because that was what he charged.
The showman prepared to walk on, but then paused to nod back along the lane in the direction of Cirencester. “Reckon this must be the day for carriages to lurk in country byways,” he observed suddenly. “I just passed another one. It must have been coming along behind you, otherwise you’d have passed it drawed up by the big elm tree two ‘undred yards back. Its blinds was pulled down tight, but someone were inside, I heard ‘em.”
Laura’s ears pricked. A carriage with lowered blinds? Could it be the one she’d noticed yesterday? Oh, surely not. She could understand seeing it at Tyburn, Oxford, and even passing the King’s Head, for those places were all on the same main route to the west and Wales, but this would be different. There wasn’t anything main about these little lanes, so if it were indeed the same carriage, she’d have to wonder if it was deliberately following her.
The coachman glanced back along the lane, and then shrugged. “Probably some young blood on a tryst with another man’s wife.”
“No doubt.” Ha’penny Jack shifted his load. “What you doing ‘ere, anyway? Stuck here like sommat useless tied to a stick.”
“I’m reduced to carting around a prospective chaperone for Miss Deveril.” The coachman’s resentment was very plain indeed, and he didn’t really care if Laura heard or not. A lady of means like Lady Tangwood was a very superior sort of chaperone, and warranted respect. A nonentity of a widow reduced to working for her living did not, even if she
did
look the image of the late Lady Deveril!
Ha’penny Jack grunted. “Oh, well, can’t be ‘elped. I’ll be on my way afore I seizes up under this lot. You comin’ to the fair?”
“Yes. Sir Blair’s given everyone the day off as usual.”
“See you then.” The showman began to trudge away.
The coachman called after him. “Reckon you’ll be an attraction at the prize ring this year, when you and the butler punches each other’s lights out for Dolly’s favors!”
Ha’penny Jack was scornful. “I’ll make minced meat of ‘im!”
“That’ll be the day!”
The sound of a church bell drifted over the valley, and the coachman stood up to peer over the hedge at her. “Reckon we’d best be going. Sir Blair don’t like to be kept waiting.”
She returned. “I gather there’s a fair soon?” As she reached the gate she wondered suddenly if she would return to the future, but she didn’t, and was still her Regency self as she came to the carriage.
The coachman nodded. “Yes, the Mercury Fair at Great Deveril.” He answered, but hardly courteously.
“Mercury?”
He shrugged. “Sommat to do with the god of trade and gain. His day’s the twenty-fifth of May, and the fair’s ‘eld ‘round then every year. It’s a big occasion and folks come from miles. Come on now, we’ve got to get going.” He gathered the reins, making no attempt to get down and open the carriage door for her.
She glanced along the lane in case she could see the carriage the traveling showman had mentioned. The lay of the land was against her, but she could see the top of the elm tree. She climbed into her seat and closed the door behind her. The whip cracked and the vehicle jolted forward.
The lanes were the same ones that existed in the future, and in bad weather couldn’t be much more than mud tracks, but they were passable enough now, and it wasn’t long before she recognized the lodge ahead. Just before the carriage turned through the gates, she looked to where the modern signpost to the canal tunnel would stand. There was nothing there now, but she could see the narrow way that led down the hillside. In times to come it would be overhung with trees, but here in 1818, its banks were exposed and grassy.
The drive still swept down between rhododendrons, but when the grounds opened out, there was no holly avenue, just close-trimmed lawns beyond which stood the original great house, its golden stone gleaming in the May sunshine. What was going to happen to it, she wondered? Would fire destroy all but a third? Or had some other fate befallen it?
She remained in her seat as the butler emerged from the house. He was in his late thirties, of medium height and stocky build, with blue eyes and thick brown brows, and was dressed in a black coat and gray breeches. His hair was concealed beneath a powdered bag wig which made him look rather severe—in fact, his whole demeanor was somewhat imposing—and Laura felt a perverse desire to laugh as she thought of him in a prize ring with Ha’penny Jack! It was hard to imagine anyone less like the traveling showman, and she couldn’t help thinking Dolly Frampton must be a woman of broad taste in men.
He opened the carriage door. “If you’ll follow me, madam, Sir Blair is in the lower gardens with Miss Deveril and Mr. Woodville.”
She looked into his shining blue eyes, and with a start realized there was something oddly familiar about him. She felt she’d seen him somewhere before. Perhaps she’d noticed him at the ball. Yes, that must be it.
Gathering her skirts, she alighted. Peacocks were calling on the lawns, and the summer breeze rustled the ivy that had begun to cloak part of the house façade. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers, and horses whinnied in the nearby stables as she followed the butler toward the gardens on the other side of the house.
Her heartbeats quickened. In a matter of moments now she’d see Sir Blair Deveril again.
Chapter Six
There was no evergreen windbreak in 1818, so the view over the valley was unbroken as Laura followed the butler to the gardens. As she scanned the valley for the stream and the field gate, she saw a flash of sunlight on glass under the solitary elm tree a little further along the lane. The carriage Ha’penny Jack had mentioned! She gazed intently, and was able to see enough of it to know it was
very
like the one she’d noticed yesterday. There wasn’t time to wonder more about it because the butler led her further around the house and the view changed.