Hide in Time (30 page)

“Darned glad I’m not called
Horatio – that’s for sure.” Billy relaxed a little,
bent down, and picked up his dropped cloth. “Sidebottome’s
bad enough.”

“Alexandra is surreptiously
mischievous, Billy, and I know now what the jest is.”

“Sir?”

“You are the only one to have
known that she did not ride as a lady should – side-saddle.
Indeed, I think you hold many of her secrets. You guard her
admirably.”

Laura watched Adam as Alexandra
distracted them both as she walked towards them from the back of the
house. His eyes sparkled. Sparkled as they had once done for her. She
took a deep breath then pursed her lips to make it more difficult to
cry. “Secrets?” said Alexandra. “You talk about
secrets?” She linked her arm through Adam’s.

“And hidden they shall remain,
Alexandra.” He squeezed her hand, turned to Billy and said,
“This world hides its secrets well, would you not agree,
Horatio?”

“Billy, sir. Billy, please. It’s
all I have that’s really mine.”

“Nonsense,” corrected
Alexandra. “You are one of the finest sergeants the Army has
ever known. You have courage, fortitude and great inventiveness. A
leader amongst men. Where would Wellington be without men like you?
He’d never have won at Waterloo, that’s for sure.”

Billy scraped his foot in the dirt and
furrowed his brow. “I don’t rightly remember…”

“Join the club,” called
Alexandra as Adam towed her away.

“What club?” Adam asked.

“The one that can’t
remember anything, of course.”

“This mention of Waterloo again –
what is it you know of Waterloo, Alexandra? Have you dreamt about
it?”

“It’s just a saying, isn’t
it? Come now, Jack met his Waterloo with Alfred the not-so-great,
didn’t he? And you and your pistols saved me from mine.”
Alexandra put her forefinger to her lips as she became aware she’d
said something ‘out of time’.

Fascinating, thought Laura. I wonder
what’s been happening. I must get hold of those diaries. She
did. As Adam opened the door for Alexandra, Laura whipped in and
rushed upstairs to her old room where Alexandra now kept her journal.
She remembered she’d soon have the opportunity to read all of
them with Matt. Matt? Yes Matt! Keep remembering the things of the
future, the life she must live, the life she had come to love.

Laura tucked herself away with the new,
leather bound diary, sitting on the floor by the side of the bed near
the desk, just like she used to do when this room had been hers.
There was one change though – Alexandra now had a proper desk,
not just a writing slope on a dresser. And so she should, thought
Laura. Perhaps there would be news of Catherine, for she was nowhere
to be seen. She’d have to read fast, skip bits; she mustn’t
waste this precious time; nor forget what she had come to do.

‘Wednesday, 31st May
–
(Laura could not help but add aloud ‘In the Year of Our Lord
1815’.)

I’m having to write this on
Thursday. So much happened, I simply didn’t get a chance to
make notes. Father Fox spilled the beans. And how!’

Laura was amused. Unlike some entries,
Alexandra was writing as if she were still Xandra in the twenty-first
century. Golly, if anyone had seen this diary then, coupled with her
ability to ‘see’ into the future, they would have branded
Xandra a witch. Laura’s blood ran cold. What did Matt think of
her?

She hurriedly read on, and learned of
many things she had never known. She knew Jack was a troublemaker,
but this bad? His behaviour was worse than she could have imagined.
She chuckled where Alexandra described her jitsu. She’d
obviously forgotten the proper name and was calling it ‘slinging’.
Fair enough description and certainly no worse than some things she
herself had been saying in the twenty-first century. Poor Jack –
made to marry the awful Charlotte Carpenter. What a plan!

‘Thursday, June 1st

Heaven. This is it. This is what I have
waited for all my life. Raffles – I can now believe in your God
and his plan for our lives. The man is just fantastic! I have
completely misjudged him. How can I have been so unreasonable?’

Laura was even more amused now. A quick
flick back several days and Alexandra had been calling Adam a ‘lying
toad’. She read on.

‘When I made it back to
“Foxhills” on jolly Holly, oh what a loyal and faithful
horse, I dashed up here to my room and snuggled into bed. Couldn’t
sleep, of course, and, would you believe it? Adam slipped into my
room. Totally unheard. Gave me such a start! A highwayman – in
my room! The highwayman! The one who wears my ring round his neck and
thinks I don’t know. He sat on the side of my bed! Ok, ok, I’m
going to stop using these exclamation marks soon – but probably
not yet. Oh the butterflies! Rabbles of the fluttering things. How I
blushed. He was still in his highwayman’s gear. Black boots
even, though now I could see they had the usual brown cuff at the
top. I was transfixed – my eyes following his. Then he said
‘You honour me with your eyes’ and
winked
! Those
very same words; said in that voice! Personal, all but a whisper, so
seductive. It has haunted me almost daily since the hold-up and I
can’t believe I’ve been living and breathing the same air
as him. I’d been thinking Adam seemed familiar, but couldn’t
work out how I could have known him before. And it turns out he was
the drunkard lolling on the floor in the tavern. He was listening to
everything. And he could see me peeping through the window. Adam –
the highwayman – I can’t decide which persona I like
best. Then, leaning towards me on my bed, he said, in his captivating
voice, that from now on he might call me ‘Axe’ (or
perhaps that wouldn’t have an ‘e’ on the end),
anyway, he then said he ‘had the right to steal a kiss’.

And here, of all places, thought Laura,
she’d gone into that damned squiggly stuff. For a few tender
moments, Laura remembered those kisses he had given her; sweet pain.
She could not in her wildest dreams have imagined that Adam had been
a highwayman. Well, he wasn’t a proper one, of course, they
were awful people. Perhaps Mr Leigh-Fox was right after all, Adam was
wild. And he was wearing the silver ring round his neck. He had not
forgotten her, he’d taken the ring from Alexandra, and he wore
it. How close she felt to him. She must stop reading now. She’d
be able to read more when she got back to Matt and then it wouldn’t
be such terrible torture. Thank God for Matt. Keep thinking of him.

She hurried along to Catherine’s
room; the room was empty. She took out a pale pink, silk scarf from
her pocket and placed it under Catherine’s pillow. How else
could she show she cared? She allowed herself a smile as she
reflected on the joy it would bring to Catherine; a little mystery
would go a long way with her.

Searching for Adam and Alexandra, Laura
pushed open the music room door; it creaked. As there was no
response, she slipped inside to find the two of them close in
conversation in the morning room. Alexandra was speaking but Adam
glanced in Laura’s direction. He was undoubtedly the most
handsome man she had ever known and she flinched when she saw the
sparkle soften to concern, as if he felt haunted. She’d never
come again. Besides, Matt might not mind the loss of a toe, but
suppose she now lost a foot?

Standing by the window, Alexandra was
saying, “Was it not Cicero who said, ‘Cannot people
realize how large an income is thrift.’” Adam smiled;
those smile lines were so sexy, just like Matt’s. That’s
it, Laura, think in modern English. Don’t lose a foot. She
shuddered.

“I believe it is time to give
thrift some help.”

“Adam, I am writing another book.
We shall not be totally destitute.”

“My dearest Ax, this estate
requires several thousand pounds a year.” Adam looked at
Alexandra tenderly as she tried to hide her consternation. “I
have never discussed finances with a lady before. Forgive me. I blame
myself alone but I offer in mitigation the fact that you are not only
loved by me, you are also the most understanding friend a man could
have.”

Laura drew closer. Her task was
impossible while they were together but Adam was still a magnet.

Adam’s conversation changed pace.
“Alexandra, I have urgent business in London. May I borrow
Holly?”

“Of course, but why? Have you
sold…?”

“It is something I must do alone.
It is vital you stay here and are not seen to be with me.”

“Why?”

“Trust me. It is for the benefit
of your good reputation.”

Good, thought Laura, sounds like he’s
become aware of the repercussions Alexandra’s ‘future
memories’ might have.

Adam’s groom tapped on the
window. Things must be really bad for servants to start tapping on
windows; surely there was someone who could liaise for William? He
tapped again and with his hands, drew the shape of a box. Laura
remembered; it meant the carriage was ready. She took a long look at
Alexandra, once the diffident Xandra, now glowing, radiant, loving
and loved. It had worked out well for her.

Laura followed Adam through the house
to the steps leading down to the carriage. Johnson was loading a
trunk onto the back and pondering how best to mount guard over it.
Was that a gun under his coat? William was taking the reins at the
front and Laura saw clearly, no question about it, there was a
shotgun beside him. Catherine’s Black and Holly were to pull
the carriage. She must not go near them for they would surely
remember her and the apples and the carrots and the… well, she
had undoubtedly spoiled them. Adam climbed in and Johnson folded the
steps and shut the door carefully. Laura was beside herself with
panic. She didn’t fancy riding alongside William or standing
with Johnson at the back. A chance appeared when Adam leaned out of
the window and called to Alexandra, “Pray for this dilapidated
bone shaker to get me to London safely. I will be back as soon as I
can.”

Catherine ran out to wave farewell too.
“Be careful, Adam. Do you have your sword? That highwayman has
not yet been caught.”

Alexandra linked her arm with
Catherine’s. “Your brother is a match for any such
villain. Do not concern yourself, he’ll soon return.”

Laura had climbed in the other side but
didn’t have time to close the door before Adam turned around.
“By Jove, even the doors don’t hold; I should never have
sold the good carriage. A new one is undoubtedly required.”

Adam and his carriages! Just like Matt
and his cars. A locked case lay on the seat opposite Adam –
reason enough to sit next to him. He was like Matt. Well, he would
be, wouldn’t he? Matt being a direct descendant. Laura watched
him settle into the padded leather seat. He leant forwards and tugged
the case on to his lap, unlocked it and took out a black hide folder.
With great care he closed the case but Laura had seen more gold coin
and bank notes than she knew she was ever likely to see again. He
pushed the case back to the opposite seat and began studying the
folder’s contents. There were documents from the bank –
the word ‘mortgage’ caught her eye and, as he shuffled
them, she saw ‘short-term loan’. He had raised every
penny possible. Laura peered at the deeds he was studying. He turned
to a sheaf of papers, with lists of shares and copious notes on ‘what
if…’ scenarios.

“She’s always right but am
I right to stake everything…?” Laura sat completely
rigid. It was said in examination, not in doubt, she decided. A
moment later, Adam confidently confirmed her thought. “No other
option. To win, it is!”

The sun, now progressing through the
western sky, shone through the open window. Adam squinted; Laura
studied his glowing, chestnut hair and thought his profile as fine as
any chiselled by Michelangelo. She looked at the back of his neck;
his hair needed a trim, too busy? Lack of staff? He took off the
white cravat and flung it across the seat opposite then undid the top
button on his white shirt. The sun glinted on the silver chain around
his neck. Perhaps he would fall asleep soon. He was wearing the black
coat he wore the last time she’d seen him when they had both
lived in the same century. In the bright sunlight she realized it was
well past its use-by date. Well done, Laura, keep remembering the
twenty-first century lingo, come what may, she must return there.

Laura eventually dozed a little until
the cobbled stones of the London streets roused her. She had
forgotten the stench of London in Regency times and she pinched her
nose to stop a sneeze. They had arrived at The Tabard, the coaching
inn near London Bridge, and it was nearing midnight on Thursday,
fifteenth of June, 1815.

Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

Supper at the inn the night before had
been nothing more than a chunk of bread, cheese, fried celery and
some cold meats. Imagine, thought Laura, having to exist on such
limited fare. She had once known no better, now she could choose from
so much; there wasn’t real poverty any more, not like the poor
beggars she could see from the bedroom window. She wished she’d
thought to bring them something.

Sleep had been difficult too. Adam,
naturally, had taken the bed and, disappointingly, it was far too
narrow for Laura to squeeze alongside. She’d had to rest in the
high-backed chair by the grate and all the offensive smells and
night-time sounds of London poured through the half open window.

A serving girl brought him a jug of
steaming water for the bowl. She watched as he took off his shirt. Oh
lord, those muscles. What a fine body he had. Then she remembered
what she was supposed to be doing and time could not be wasted just
to admire… She moved closer, quietly coming up behind him. He
turned, grabbed a cloth to dry himself, and pulled out a clean shirt
from the trunk. She had missed her opportunity. Wherever he was
going, he was intending to look smart.