Love Lost in Time (Victorian Time-Travel) (8 page)

“I don’t have time for this,” she snapped and turned off the hair blower and ran into the bedroom to collect her clothes. Just as she’d finished putting on her underclothes, someone knocked at her door.

“Hal? Are you ready?”

“No, Sam, I’m not!” She hurried and opened the door for her friend, then went back to trying to pull her stockings on. Andrew had gone through a lot of trouble to make sure she had the right type of clothes for tonight, the least she could do was wear everything.

“Hal? Why aren’t you ready yet?” Samantha walked in and closed the door behind her.

“I overslept.”

“Yeah, I wondered why you didn’t want to go sightseeing with us this morning.”

“I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, I need your help fixing my hair. I want to be nearly perfect for the masquerade and reenactment of the Merrick family murder tonight.”

Samantha hurried around the room with Halle, getting her dress on and fastening the row of buttons down her back. Sam then pulled Halle into the bathroom and began winding her hair into a coil.

“Not so tight. This is the Victorian era, not Regency.”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Like I know the difference. Although I enjoy reading historical romances, I’m not a historical freak like you are.”

“Just don’t make my bun so tight. And leave a little of my hair free around my ears and at the base of my skull. When you curl them, make them really thick.”

“All right.”

While Halle applied a little make-up she stole a peek at her friend. Her friend looked pretty tonight, but instead of looking like a Victorian woman, Samantha hadn’t fixed her hair the right way, so she looked more like a girl going to the prom.

The past couple of days had been a whirlwind of confusion for Halle. Her emotions had been high one moment, only to plunge the next. Andrew’s confession about his past had a lot to do with it. Did she truly believe in time-travel? Even now she wanted to doubt his story. Time-travel wasn’t possible. Yet, he was indeed the historic Lord Andrew Merrick.

Finally, they finished and left the room. Colin stood near the elevator waiting for them, and when he saw them, he rolled his eyes.

“Leave it to women to be fashionably late.”

“What time is it?” Halle asked.

“Five forty.”

“Then let’s hurry
and hope we haven’t missed a lot.”

Trying to act like a gentleman, Colin held an elbow out for each woman. Halle wanted to laugh, but refrained. At least he was trying. And although he wore clothes similar to Andrew’s, poor Colin just didn’t look as good as Andrew had the other night.

Excitement rushed through her as they approached large ballroom where the reenactment would take place. She couldn’t wait to see Andrew. He’d be extremely handsome in his Victorian clothes. But more than that, she wanted to witness desire smoldering in his gaze when he looked her over as he’d done the other night when he first saw her wearing this gown. Never had she felt more beautiful than at that moment.

She’d missed him, and she wanted desperately to see him and tell him what she read in his father’s journal. Apparently, his father was quite obsessed with the same tree Andrew had been working around since she first spotted him. The more she thought about what she read—how the
duke was always talking about the tree—she wondered if the jewels really were buried here as Andrew had suspected.

As she walked into the great room with her friends, she could see they hadn’t started the reenactment yet. Thankfully
everyone
was fashionably late.

Many other guests spilled in through the doorways, dressed in similar costumes. Being the picky historical freak—as Sam had so
nicely
put it—Halle could tell some of these people didn’t know the difference between the Regency and Victorian eras. Nonetheless, she tried to look past it and enjoy herself tonight.

Refreshments were set out on a long buffet table. In the corner of the room, a small orchestra tuned their instruments. She couldn’t wait to reenact the Merrick family’s last night alive, wondering exactly how the staff would be able to pull it off. And…who was going to play Andrew. Would it be the very man the story was about? She seriously doubted it since he didn’t look like the young man in the portrait any longer.

Scanning the room slowly, she searched for him, and to her great disappointment, could not see him anywhere. He promised he’d be here tonight. Strange how much she wanted to see his reaction to her attire. But, if she would admit the truth, she was infatuated with him and wanted to be with him tonight. Nothing would please her more—except maybe finding her father. Then again, being with Andrew would definitely please her more.

“Hal, how is Drew doing? He hasn’t looked well lately.”

Halle moved her gaze back to Samantha. “Yes, I noticed that, too. Last night he was coughing up blood.”

“Blood?” Sam gasped. “That’s really not good at all.”

“I know, but he promised me he’d see a doctor soon.”

Samantha sat in silence for a few moments. Her forehead creased as her gaze narrowed on the table in front of them. “I’ve been reading a book about Henry VII, and how he was poisoned.” She placed her hand on Halle’s. “It’s strange, but Drew’s symptoms and King Henry’s are alike. Henry was losing his hair, and his face held a grayish tone. He was weak, and he coughed. In that era, the doctors thought it was consumption. But now we know he was poisoned.”

Halle’s heart sank as worry encased her. “Oh, my gosh. Sam, I think you’re right, but who would want to poison a sweet man like Drew?”

Nigel stepped into the room, picked up a champagne flute and tapped his spoon against the glass, making it chime.
Although Halle wanted to talk to Samantha more about Henry VIII, she kept her attention on Nigel.

After everyone had quieted, he proceeded to explain the events of the evening. As Halle studied him, she could tell he wasn’t feeling well this evening. He cleared his throat a lot, and took sips of his drink more than she figured he should. He also took long pauses as if he tried to catch his breath.

More guests wandered into the room, which drew Halle’s attention toward the back. Servants stood, dressed as people from that era. But there was still no sign of Andrew. Worry dug a deeper hole in her heart. With all this talk of poisoning, and Andrew having those symptoms, she genuinely wondered if he was too sick to meet her tonight. Was he in his room now not able to move or call out for help?

Nigel introduced the characters:
Duke and Duchess of Harrington, Lord Brimhall—Edward—and his wife Lady Agnes, Lady Georgiana, and then Lord Andrew.

Halle held her breath, hoping it was
her
Andrew, but when a younger man stepped forward, her heart sank. His face wasn’t the handsome features she’d come to think about lately.

As Nigel discussed how the evening would proceed, Halle kept watch on the door, expecting to see Andrew walk in any moment now. After all, he’d told her he’d be here. He gave his word, and men in his century kept their word…their honor made them that way. But as the minutes passed and there was no sign of him, worry grew in her chest. Something must be terribly wrong.

The lights dimmed and the playacting began. Halle leaned closer to Samantha. “I’ve got to leave for a minute.”

He
r friend frowned. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Um…I have to
fine Andrew. He could be very sick right now and unable to get help.”

“
Do you want me to come with you?”

“
No, Sam. I’ll just hurry to his room. I’ll be back shortly.”

She left the great room and
hurried into the elevator. Although he’d not told her where his room was, she suspected it would have to be the same floor as Bill Stratford’s room. When the elevator door opened and she stepped out, she glanced up and down the hallway. Which one was his?

As gracefully as she could, she lifted her gown to sprint down the
corridor. Unfortunately, her get-up wouldn’t allow her much movement. No wonder the women of that time walked slowly. Halle expected even the men didn’t move as fast with the type of shoes they wore, hindering their steps as well.

“Andrew?”
she called out, but nobody answered. By the time she’d been all down the hallway, she was ready to scream. Where could he be?

Growling with annoyance, she made her way back up the stairs toward the grand room. Before going inside, she glanced around in hopes of seeing him. He still wasn’t here.

Disheartened, she pulled away from the doorway and headed toward the front door. After stepping outside, she breathed in the fresh cold air. Within seconds, heavy moisture touched her face and she glanced up to the sky. Snow was falling, but thankfully not too hard. But even with the thick snow clouds hiding the moon, for some reason there was more light than she figured there should be.

The walkways were
lit with old-fashioned lanterns and helped to light her way as she hurried toward to the side of the manor. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed another object glowing differently. Blinking, she tried to focus on why the tree had become brighter since there were no lanterns around it.

As she neared, she noticed a body lying on the ground…

“Andrew!” she screamed and broke into a run. Her feet slipped a few times, but she righted herself and rushed onward. When she reached him, tears swam in her eyes. He was lying face down in the snow-covered ground. She sank to her knees and touched his back. “Andrew?”

She shook him, but he didn’t move. Carefully, she rolled him over. A gasp escaped her throat. This wasn’t Andrew…yet it was. The man’s face was
white—lifeless.

Frantically, she felt for a pulse on his neck while her heart beat wildly. “You can’t be dead,” she whispered.

She found no pulse.

“No!” she sobbed, l
aying her head to his chest, she listened for a heartbeat. None. Had someone poisoned him? Was that why he’d died? Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cried into his chest.

“
Come this way.
”

Halle jerked up and looked around. Where had that voice come from? Suddenly, the tree grew brighter. She squinted and lifted her hand to shield the light from her eyes. It was as if
the bark parted—and in the middle stood a person in silhouette. Halle couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman.

“
Come this way,
” the voice said again.

Curious, she stood and moved closer. Who could be doing this? But what amazed her more was that
her mind had become transfixed. A magnetic tug kept her moving forward until everything around her turned white.

Perhaps she’d died alongside Andrew. After all…she felt no pain, except in her heart
over Andrew’s death.

A fog swirled in her mind, making her dizzy. She fought to keep her eyes open, but couldn’t as darkness fell upon her.

Chapter Seven

A fuzzy cloud hung thick in Halle’s head, and yet a bright light shined upon her. It was the sun, more than likely, so then why didn’t she feel more heat to help warm her chilled limbs. Perhaps it was still snowing.

Her head pounded, and she didn’t dare open her eyes for fear the light would make it worse. She tried to let the sounds and smells around her alert her to what was going on. Slowly, tingles of awareness spread through her body, making her feel more alive than she had a few moments ago.

“Come this way.”

There’s that voice again.
Yet this time it seemed closer than before when she’d heard it by the tree. And the voice clearly came from a woman.

“There she is, my lord. I found her lying right here.”

Halle still didn’t open her eyes, but soon shadows covered the brightness mere seconds before warm, chubby fingers curled around her arms. Halle breathed in deeply. The scent of freshly baked bread stirred her hungry stomach. The person beside her must have just come from eating—or cooking—bread.

“She does not appear to be hurt.” A man’s voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

There are two of them?
Although the pounding in Halle’s head hadn’t subsided, she forced her eyes open. Bright light silhouetted the man and older woman kneeling beside her. Their faces were unrecognizable. Halle squinted and turned her head to escape the light. Groaning, she willed the sharp pain in her head to disappear.

“Miss? I say, are you all right?” the man asked, his voice harsh with authority.

Grass…dewy and slippery, dampened her palms as she tried to sit up. The moisture seeped into her dress as well. What had happened to the snow? She shivered. “I do have a headache, and I’m cold.”

The man leaned closer and sniffed. “Miss, are you foxed?”

She placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him away. Her vision was still slightly blurred and with him so close, it made her dizzy. “No. I haven’t had any alcohol.”

“Can you stand, dearie?” The chubby woman encouraged gently as she tugged on Halle’s arm.

“I think so.” With the help from the two, Halle was soon on her feet. She swayed and fell against the man. He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her steady.

“My lord,” the woman said, “I think we should get her inside by the fire. Do you not agree?”

“I don’t know, Gertie,” the man said warily. “We still have no clue to her identity.”

Halle blinked, trying to keep her eyes open. “Please stop talking as if you don’t know I’m right here listening.” She tugged away from the man. “I’m fine. I just passed out, I guess.”

“You are an American.” The man stated the obvious.

“Well, duh!” Halle focused on his face now that the sun wasn’t obstructing her view. Familiarity pricked at her conscience, yet she couldn’t place a name to him. He must
be one of the people in the reenactment, even though it wasn’t anyone that’s she remembered seeing. Yet, if he was, why hadn’t he changed out of his costume? Obviously, it was morning from the way the bright sun lit up the sky, so why is he still wearing his historical-looking duds?

He stood next to her
looking as though he’d just returned from riding. He wore a brown, conservatively cut coat and cravat wrapped almost too bulky around his neck. Buckskin breeches encased his legs which were stuffed into black knee boots. He even held on to a riding stick.

The woman looked like a cook; long, white apron pinned to her ankle-length, large, beige dress, and a white mobcap covering the top of her salt and pepper hair wound in a knot at the back of her head. Flour coated a spot on the older woman’s wrinkled cheek. But she wasn’t one of the cooks Halle had talked with the other day.

Halle smiled weakly. “Thanks for your help. I wish I knew what happened to me.”

“You are still weak as a kitten.” The older woman slid her arm around Halle’s waist to assist in helping hold her up.

“I suppose.” Halle looked closer at the woman, but still she felt as if they’d never met before. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but do you work here?”

“Yes, dearie. I have worked for the
Duke of Harrington since I was young. My mother also worked for the duke and his father before him.”

What the crap is the woman talking about?
Halle shook the fuzziness out of her head again and chuckled. “You’re good at playacting, but why are you still in costume?” She took a peek at the sky again. “It’s morning. You don’t have to act like you did last night.”

The older woman traded glances with the man. Worried lines etched on the cook’s face, and the man’s distrustful expression gave Halle the creeps.

“Pardon me?” the man barked. “You are not speaking rationally. Perhaps you are indeed foxed as I first suspected.”

“I don’t believe so, my lord,” the cook said, shaking her head
. “I would have smelled spirits on her breath.” The lady placed a hand to Halle’s forehead. “Hmm…she does feel a little warm. Perhaps she is ill from lying undetected in the cold, damp grass this morning.”

Halle wished they’d stop acting like she wasn’t standing right here with them. “What? I was lying in the…” Finally, her head
fully cleared and she remembered what happened. She spun toward the tree—which now looked like any ordinary tree—but Andrew was gone and no snow. “Oh, no.” She gasped. “Where is he?”

“Where is whom, dearie?”

“The…man.”

The man referred to as
my lord
gasped. “You were lying with a
man
all night under the tree?”

Halle rolled her eyes, deciding that she really didn’t like this idiot at all. “Of course not. I was trying to help Andrew.”

“Andrew?” Both the cook and
my lord idiot
responded at the same time.

Halle nodded. “Yes. Andrew…the gardener. You know, Andrew Merrick.”

Wrinkled eyes widened as the older woman’s mouth stretched in a lopsided smile. “Lord Andrew?”

Unease ran amuck through Halle and made her head throb harder. Andrew had only told
her
about his past. So how did this lady know?

Halle rubbed her forehead. “Well…yes, but…” She pointed to the tree. “He was lying by the tree last night.”

The man groaned. “He’s back? I did not know he had returned.”

“What?” Halle shook her head. “He didn’t go anywhere. He’s been here the whole time.”

“Oh, dear.” The cook wrung her hands. “He wasn’t foxed again, was he?”

Again?
For some reason, the image of Andrew being
foxed
didn’t settle well in Halle’s mind.

“I apologize, dearie,” the cook continued. “Usually the groomsman
finds him and takes him back to his room, but since he has not been here for a fortnight, this has come as a complete surprise to us.”

What are they talking about?
“Actually, Andrew has been here the whole time I’ve been here,” Halle explained.

The man placed his hands on his hips and pierced her with his stare. “Miss, why are you referring to him as
Andrew
? Are you his mistress?”

“Oh!” Halle wanted to slap his face, but instead
lightly swatted his arm. “Take that back! I am
not
his mistress. Andrew and I only met a few days ago.”

Shock registered on the man’s face as his cheeks turned red. “How dare you strike me!”

“Keep up the insults,
my lord,
and I’ll do more than that.” Halle glared. They did not want to mess with her this morning. The turmoil and throb in her head would not allow her to be very cheerful right now. And to think Andrew was dead. Should she tell these two? Although she needed to inform someone at the bed and breakfast, she’d find the owner and let him know. But first…she needed to discover what happened to Andrew’s body.

“Um, Miss,” the cook said, tugging on Halle’s arm until she met her stare. “Lord
Andrew has not been at his family’s estate for weeks. I fear you have us quite perplexed.”

Family Estate?
The throb in Halle’s head grew worse and she rubbed her forehead.
I traveled through time—through the tree.
Last night the tree had been bright…the trunk had opened for her. Suddenly Andrew’s words returned, nudging her mind. Could she have time-traveled? Nah, she was definitely not thinking correctly, due to her headache. “You know, I’m a little confused right now, myself. Perhaps I hit my head. Let’s just get me back inside the bed and breakfast so I can find my friends. Maybe we can get this straightened out somehow.”

“Bed and breakfast?”
My lord idiot
snickered. “Miss, I do not know what you are speaking about. I believe you are more ill than we first suspected. I have never heard of anything called a
bed and breakfast.
Do you not know you are at the Harrington Manor?”

Halle rolled her eyes and let out a tiny snort. Could this man be any more obtuse? “Of course I know this place was the Harrington
Manor centuries ago.” She turned around and pointed to the bed and breakfast that had been in back of her. “But clearly you can see…”

The sun shown upon the
bed and breakfast known as Buckland Manor, presenting her a view she’d never seen before. No longer did this place resemble the structure she and her friends checked in to several days ago. Instead, the grandeur of the manor took her breath away.

She lifted her hand to her throat, reminding herself to breathe in…breathe out…slowly
so as not to hyperventilate. The three-level home appeared to have received a historic facelift overnight. The doors and windows were different, but the yard and garden appeared the same.

“This can’t be right…” Halle pulled away from the woman and hurried toward the front door. As she studied the knob and the carvings in the wood, realization hit her like a brick to the head. This wasn’t just a replica of a Victorian door. This
was
a Victorian door!

The door swung open, and she jumped back, suddenly fearful of everything around her. When the older man met her eyes, surprise registered on his face. “Pardon me for surprising you, Miss.” His gaze moved behind her to the others. “Edward, I did not know we had a visitor so early this morning.”

“Well, you see, my lord, we found her—” Gertie began.

“It’s you,” Halle said in a rush, recalling the portrait of the
Duke of Harrington inside the Bed and Breakfast.

“Pardon me?”

“You are…the Duke of Harrington, right?”

“Yes.”

Not believing any of this…knowing that whatever happened to her last night had left her in an unrealistic state of mind, she chuckled. Yet this man before her looked nothing like the man who portrayed the duke last night during the reenactment. Instead, he looked exactly like the portrait she’d seen that hung in the great hall.

“Father, Gertrude found her by the tree…unconscious.”

Father?
Halle studied
my lord idiot
closely. Oh good heavens! This was Edward, Andrew’s elder brother.

“Unconscious?” The
duke gasped. “We need to get you inside by the fire before you catch your death.”

“But Father.” Edward stepped in front of Halle. “She was by the
tree.
”

Suddenly, the worried lines that had carved the
duke’s forehead a moment ago were replaced with suspicion. His blue eyes held a glimmer of distrust. He grasped her hands, peering curiously at her fingers. “Miss, what were you doing by the tree?”

“I wish I knew.” She narrowed her gaze on him and pulled her hands away.

This cannot be real. Closing her eyes, she shook her head.
I’m dreaming…
Yes, that must be it. Slowly, she opened her eyes again, but the three were still looking at her as if she’d grown two heads.
This is ridiculous!
For some reason she hadn’t awakened from this strange dream. She pinched herself and winced. Okay, so she was awake. She glanced at Edward before reaching over and pinching his arm.

“Ouch!” He rubbed the spot. “I say, what is the meaning of this?”

“Oh, dear,” she moaned and massaged her forehead. This was real for heaven’s sake!

“What is your name, Miss?” Edward asked.

“Halle Chapman.” A small breeze stirred her hair and she shivered.

His eyes narrowed and even his top lip rose in a sneer. “Halle? What kind of name is that?”

Never had she wanted to punch a man in the face until this very moment. “It’s a name my mother chose for me, my lord. And, I must say, I think the name fits me well.”

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m certain it does, Miss Chapman.”

“My lord,” the cook said to the duke, “she is cold. If she stays out here any longer, she will catch her death.”

“Catch my death…” Halle muttered with a chuckle. Yet just as she said it, she knew she’d certainly catch cold if she didn’t get out of these damp clothes. Glancing down, she looked at the once-lovely gown Andrew had found for her. It was ruined now. Hopefully a good wash and iron would make it pretty again. But regardless of her pathetic appearance, she had to be dreaming everything. Nothing made any sense right now.