The Time Travelers, Volume 2 (13 page)

Nellie was not going to let them down.

She was eighteen herself, and very pretty. What if her beauty overwhelmed Lord Winden? Perhaps in his hour of need and betrayal, she, Nellie Fish, would fill his heart.

But sadly, when she answered Lord Winden’s ring, he was not alone: Another lady and gentleman had arrived. Nellie rolled in a cart for late supper and began arranging the linens and silver and crystal and flowers.

Not one word was spoken by any of the three guests. Nellie knew how to solve this: out of sight, a maid was out of mind.

Nellie bustled into the bathroom to check towels and be sure that the gentleman (because men were not gentlemen in the way they treated their discarded underwear) had not left an unmentionable on the floor, which would shock the lady should she be forced to enter this room.

Sure enough, the three began to talk, and Nellie
stood quietly, memorizing each word, as she folded and refolded the towels.

“Why, Tod, darling, I’m so proud of you!” cried his mother. “Of course you may stay with us for a few days, Devonny. How awful to have your host family turn out so rude and difficult. You may have our daughter’s room. Her name is Annie. You can probably wear her clothes, too. She left a completely full closet here even though she shipped a hundred boxes.”

Devonny had a wardrobe like that. She could ship a hundred boxes and still have a full closet. She smiled and tried to maintain her British accent and not inadvertently use a swear word like secretary.

“Whew. Dinner. Let’s go to McDonald’s,” said the mother. “I’m whipped, I can’t look a kitchen in the eye.”

Tod whispered in Devonny’s ear. “Restaurant,” he explained.

Devonny had dined in public. Some of her best memories were the restaurants of Paris. “I shall put on a dress,” she said happily.

“Darling,” said Mrs. Lockwood, ignoring the dress idea, and swooping Devonny and Tod back into the dark and scary car stable.

They drove through fireworks. There were lights everywhere. Inside buildings, words were lit up in red
or blue. Huge signs stood by the side of the road, with their own lighting systems. Imagine having reading material stuck up in the air like that.

People’s houses and offices were lighted, the streets were lighted, and most of all, the motorcars were lighted. Devonny had never imagined darkness without the dark. It was beautiful and wonderful. And a beautiful, wonderful thought came to her! Annie believed Strat was alive and well, digging up pharaohs in Egypt! So Annie had done her part—she’d saved Strat. But Strat was not here to do
his
part—saving Devonny.

The restaurant was appalling.

The tables were not set. There were no waiters. People kept their coats on and actually lined up to be given a tray of food, like beggars at the Salvation Army.

Devonny was horrified. Families were bringing children into a situation like this.

She did not recognize the food. She thought of Flossie—was she Mrs. Annello by now?—eating unknown foods with her new Italian family. She thought of Hugh-David, no doubt eating alone in his hotel room rather than facing the world that had seen him jilted; she thought of her mother—

My mother, thought Devonny Stratton.
My mother
.

She looked at Tod’s mother, striding around, knowing what to do. Devonny’s mother had never taken a
step like that. Aurelia Stratton had never known what to do. The one step Aurelia took—threatening Hiram Stratton—had been the most stupid and dangerous of her life.

Devonny was not sure she loved a mother who could connive a hard fate for a daughter, and yet Devonny loved her mother completely. She forgave her without needing facts. This was her mother, and Devonny could not let Mama suffer.

I am caught here in this dreadful public place, thought Devonny, and where is my mother, and what can I do to save her from Father’s wrath?

I can do nothing.

Tod grabbed a tray overflowing with packages but not food. He elbowed Devonny toward a tiny pretend table.

How much time had gone by on Devonny’s wedding day? What was happening in New York at this very moment, a hundred years ago? Was Father punishing Mama? Was he using a physical method? He had been known to use his riding whip. He had used his belt on Strat often enough.

Mama could not endure such a thing. She was frail.

I am a prisoner as much as Mama, thought Devonny. She, nailed into the coffin of an attic, and I, shut into another century, where women must stand alone.

She fought tears while Tod unwrapped the packages. Sandwiches for dinner! How vulgar. Another package had little gold sticks, which Mrs. Lockwood salted heavily and began chewing on, one at a time. She used her fingers.

Devonny felt ill. A woman who considered secretary a swear word would eat dinner with her bare fingers?

Nobody had a fork. What had become of this country?

But she was terribly hungry. Desperately she gripped the huge round thing in both hands and chomped down like Tod. Onion and salad dressing and lettuce spurted onto her fingers. She stayed brave, continued to hold the sandwich and finished her bite.

“Why, that’s wonderful,” she said, astonished, staring down at the interior of the sandwich. “What are these called?” she said, forgetting she was English and should know these things.

“Darling,” said Mrs. Lockwood, “you must live in a very rural area in England. Tell me all about it. Do you go to pubs and have shepherd’s pie or do you stay home and have a joint of mutton?”

Devonny took another bite to give herself a little time to think. After all, everybody else was talking with a full mouth. Clearly, in this century people were
barbarians. “We live in a castle,” she said. “It’s called Winden.”

“Come on,” said Mrs. Lockwood, laughing.

“She thinks you’re kidding,” interpreted Tod.

“No, no. The castle has two hundred rooms and is in desperate need of a new slate roof. We huddle in one corner, it’s the only spot with heat and a bathroom.” Devonny went on and on, quoting Hugh-David. The British accent began to feel familiar and pleasant. Mrs. Lockwood’s fascination was delightful. Devonny felt like a social success. Even Tod was smiling. She finished her strange sandwich and wiped her lips. Papering her mouth, however, was not the worst moment of the dining experience. They had to clear their own table, as if they were scullery maids.

People paid money to eat here like this, thought Devonny.

She would not stoop to their level.

“Mrs. Lockwood,” she said, inclining her head in a gracious bow, “I thank you for a lovely evening. I am most refreshed.” She turned to Tod. She had a smile in her repertoire that men never failed to return. Indeed, Tod warmed under the sunlight of her smile, and returned it. “I am grateful for your rescue,” she said, putting her hand lightly over his. “Your kindness overwhelms me. And how proud I was to witness your triumph on the soccer field.”

Tod Lockwood fell in love.

He could feel it coming and tried to dodge. Love had such a sharp point that for a moment he believed in Cupid, complete with arrow. He actually ducked under the tiny table, pretending to retrieve a bunch of paper napkins, but he was trying to escape Devonny’s smile.

No, he said to Love. Not for me. I don’t have time. I’m not interested. Get out of here! Beat it!

He composed himself, straightened up and avoided looking at Devonny.

But it no longer took eyes to know that Devonny was there. He could feel her without touching her. Know her without focusing on her.

She was proud to witness my triumph, he thought.

A thousand other opportunities to triumph in front of Devonny Stratton invaded his imagination.

He felt his body heating up, his face changing color, his mind losing track.

Mrs. Van Stead had torn her handkerchief apart. The hem had come out quite easily, and then the lace, and now she shredded the linen thread by thread. Her lap was full of white debris.

Since it was her fault that Flossie had misbehaved, Mrs. Van Stead must whisper the ugly truth to Lord Winden. “Sir, another dread event occurred at the church. We think it best to confer.”

Lord Winden shuffled his pack of cards in a noisy slapping manner. He could hardly control his irritation.

Mrs. Van Stead was accustomed to that in a man and she hurried on. “Our daughter Flossie fell in love with one of the Italian workmen putting in the stone walls and the fountain on the Stratton’s estate in the country. We intercepted notes between our daughter and the boy. They had hopes of eloping.”

The man actually smiled. “Ah, yes,” he said casually, as if this did not matter, as if it were not the most awful thing to happen to a well-brought-up girl. “I remember how she would circle the bushes, as if we had not eyes to see, while the young man would ogle and flirt.”

Mrs. Van Stead paled. “It was visible to all?”

“It was visible to me,” said Lord Winden, shaking his head at the stupidity of young lovers. “What has that to do with my situation?”

Her husband acquired a voice. Mrs. Van Stead was greatly relieved. Men handled things so much better. “Naturally I had the boy rounded up and escorted to the hold of a ship I own,” said Mr. Van Stead. “He will be taken back to Europe, although I would prefer to have him thrown off the ship while it is at sea.”

“Clever of you,” said Lord Winden.

“Today, before entering my pew,” said Mrs. Van Stead, bowing her head over her lap of lint, “I personally
checked my daughter’s gown, hem, gloves and flowers. At fifteen minutes before the hour, my daughter stood with the other bridesmaids, awaiting the wedding processional.
But she did not come down the aisle
. Devonny is missing—and so is Flossie.”

“I am so sorry,” said Lord Winden.

“Had we but known Flossie planned to leave during the wedding and go to meet the boy, we would have restrained her,” said Mr. Van Stead. “My wife is completely responsible for this laxity of supervision.”

“Aha,” said Lord Winden. He cut his deck of cards.

Mr. Van Stead saw that Lord Winden did not think very clearly, so he said, “I assume that Devonny has done the same, and also went to meet her Italian stonecutter.”

The Englishman grasped the situation at last.

Nellie Fish stormed out of the bathroom, crisp apron flouncing. “Criminal!” she shouted at Mr. Van Stead. She shook her finger at him. “Evil man! Beast!”

They gaped at Nellie Fish.

“You kidnapped an innocent boy because your daughter wrote love letters to him?” shouted Nellie Fish. “I thought you were gentlemen! You are horrible terrible people. You do not deserve this dinner.”

Nellie Fish flung the table on its side. Gravy splashed on the floor. A silver fork narrowly missed
Mrs. Van Stead. Crystal smashed against the brocaded wall. Pastry filling clung to a lampshade.

“
You
will stay here,” commanded Nellie Fish. “
I
will summon the law.”

She sailed from the room, as much starch in her spine as in her apron.

For a moment, it seemed reasonable to go after the silly woman and throw
her
into the hold of a ship, but even the Van Steads sensed that this was a bad plan.

Hugh-David was swamped with rage.

The woman with whom he had planned to share his life! his title! his castle! his bloodlines!—this woman ran away on their wedding day to some low-class, stone-dusted immigrant?

He had offered the diamonds as a reward, trusting that Devonny had been kidnapped, and all along she had meant what she said on the veranda: I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth.

He, Winden, would get this Italian and torture the truth out of him. “Show me this ship! We must force the boy to tell us where the girls expected to meet him. We will then pick the girls up. I shall return Miss Stratton to her father, who knows the true meaning of the word punishment.”

“Don’t hurt the boy,” whimpered Mrs. Van Stead. She did not care about Gianni’s fate, but what with
hotel staff summoning police, perhaps murder or mutilation should not be added to their activities.

“All right, my dear. When I kill him, I shall do it swiftly so he feels no pain.” Her husband glared at her. “Of course I’m going to hurt him! Defiling my daughter?”

Mr. Van Stead and Lord Winden stalked out of the hotel, even as Nellie struggled to find somebody, anybody at all, who believed her … even as Nellie was finding that yes, everybody believed her, gentlemen did that kind of thing, but nobody was going to take action. Did Nellie seriously believe the police would bother an English lord over some useless Italian going back where he belonged?

“Cab!” shouted Mr. Van Stead. A covered horse-drawn carriage pulled right up. The door was flung open for them, and the driver given his directions to the dockside.

Mrs. Van Stead sat awkwardly in a stranger’s hotel room, staring at the china and silver upon the floor. She felt quite faint. Would it be proper to nibble on one of the pastries that had landed in a relatively clean position?

Flossie Van Stead recognized her surroundings. The men had walked her uptown, close to the train station. Why, whenever she visited the country, she
took the train from Grand Central. She could take the train to Johnny’s town in Connecticut only a few miles from the Strattons’ seaside mansion.