Timewatch (15 page)

Dan whistled and leaned forward in his chair as he asked, “Did he tell you
how
we're supposed to go back in time?”

“Uh, no.”

“Doesn't seem possible.”

“I belong to a physics club at my high school. A physicist came to talk to us once. Someone asked this guy about time travel. He said it was theoretically possible. The math equations show that what he called ‘the arrow of time' can go backward as well as forward.”

“But no one has ever done it,” said Dan, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Not necessarily,” said Marjory. “Cases do exist where people appear to have gone back into the past. A few years ago I came across a book written in 1902 by two Englishwomen who had toured Versailles just outside Paris the previous year. They saw a woman in a large hat and full-skirted dress, who was sketching. Later, they saw a picture of the woman, whom they identified as Marie Antoinette, wife of Louis the Sixteenth.

“Apparently, these two ladies had wandered into another time period, the 18th century, just before the French Revolution. And there were a number of other anomalies, including a footbridge they had walked over that no longer existed in 1901 but had been there in 1789 and a door that they had seen a footman closing, but which had been bolted shut for years before the ladies' visit.”

“Could the ladies have been, ah, mistaken or just looking for their fifteen minutes of fame?” joked Dan.

“I think not,” said Marjory. “Both were highly respected academics. Eleanor Jourdain was the principal of St. Hugh's College at Oxford, and Annie Moberly was the headmistress of a school for girls.”

“Do you remember, Aunt Marjory, when we visited Bond Street in Liverpool? A clerk told us about something similar that had happened there,” said Gerry.

J.J. began whistling a tune.

“Isn't that ‘Hey Jude'?” asked Gerry.

When his relatives all looked at him, J.J. could feel himself flushing and said, “My dad's always playing old records by the Beatles. He said they grew up in Liverpool.”

The tense atmosphere relaxed and everyone smiled, even Caleb, whose lips twitched briefly.

“So what happened in Bond Street?” asked Laney.

Gerry sat up straight, her face animated as she said, “We were shopping there and dropped into Dillons bookstore. The clerk, who was helping us find a book, mentioned that several days earlier a woman had been waiting in the shop for her husband to join her. When he came in, he looked confused. He told his wife how after they had split up to do some shopping he noticed everything had become really quiet—no traffic noises. He found himself suddenly standing in the middle of the road, where a 1950s-type van with
Caplan's
written on it had almost run him down.

“The other strange thing was that when he peered in the front window of what he was sure was the bookstore, he could see women's shoes and handbags for sale; the sign over the entrance read
Cripps.
As he walked into the shop, the interior suddenly changed back into a bookstore. It was later found that a clothes shop called
Cripps
used to be there.”

“What about the van?” asked Caleb.

“In the 1950s, there used to be a company called Caplan's, which used white vans.”

Mr. S. scratched his head as he asked, “Have any other strange phenomena occurred there?”

“Yes, I believe there have been other incidences in Bond Street of what some call
time slips,
” said Marjory.

“So perhaps there is a possibility, after all, of time travel,” he said reflectively.

There was dead silence, except for Caleb's putting down his glass a little too hard on a table.

“Getting back to the present,” said Caleb, “I told you all yesterday about my visions of Jeremy and how when I didn't call the family together as he asked he caused my elevator to go berserk. Now the boy has seen him, too.”

“I have been dreaming, also,” said Gerry quietly. “About Jeremy's sister, Susanna. It was very … real, not like a dream at all.”

“I think you should know that J.J. has a gift for psychometry,” Mr. S. said. “By holding a Celtic pin, which had been dated back to the time of the Romans in early Britain, he picked up impressions of some events that happened in that period of history.”

“And just before we came over here, Aunt Marjory, you saw a Celtic woman, Bryanna!” exclaimed Gerry.

Dan was shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “I don't doubt that your experience was very real to you, J.J., but time travel, alternate timelines? It sounds right out in left field.”

J.J. did know how Dan felt. Even after what he'd seen, it was still hard to accept.

“There may be a way of determining the truth of the matter,” said Marjory. “I think we have to go to the mission and find that box.”

Everyone nodded in agreement while Caleb said, “I agree. You'll all enjoy the ride out there—the scenery is really spectacular—so be ready to leave tomorrow morning at ten o'clock.”

The others nodded in agreement and then filed out of the library.

CHAPTER 14

A soft May breeze was bending the heads of the roses and ruffling her hair as Susanna sat in the small garden at the back of Paul's house. In the months she had lived here, life had flowed in quiet, even channels, its small pleasures, like sitting in this rose garden, soothing, thought Susanna as she surveyed the herb and vegetable garden.

Her heart lifted with excitement when she thought of her forthcoming marriage with Paul. She had begged him to wait until he had found news of Jeremy, whom she wanted to attend their wedding, or, if that was not possible, to at least find out where he was and if he was safe.

Paul's good friend, Mr. Carvajal, whose ships regularly plied the trade route to the New World, had promised to help find her brother. As she rubbed her belly, she hoped Jeremy would be found soon. Her feelings for Paul had grown so strong that she had given herself to him. It was right after they had heard of the execution of the king on January 30, 1649. She had fallen into a depression, during which Paul's loving attentions toward her had made her fall even more in love with him.

She remembered that evening as they had sat beside a dying fire, their hands touching, his smile, and his deep voice saying good night, all culminating in her returning his chaste kiss on her cheek with a kiss that was neither proper nor chaste. But she had never regretted it, although she could not entirely dismiss an underlying unease that sometimes disturbed her sleep.

She heard the crunching of gravel at the front of the house as a coach came to a stop. It must be Paul returning. She would tell him now, this very night, about the babe growing in her belly, that she wanted to marry him very soon, whether or not Jeremy was found.

A few minutes later Mrs. Zeman, who had become more of a friend than a servant, came running in. “Susanna, come quickly! The master has met with an accident!”

“How?”

“He was knocked down in a street by a runaway hackney.”

Without waiting to hear more, Susanna ran into the hall and found two men carrying an unconscious Paul. She directed them into Paul's bedroom. After they had laid him on the four-poster bed, she dismissed them with a coin each.

“Call a physician,” she ordered the housekeeper.

“I have done so already,” said the woman quietly. She then left.

Susanna turned to Paul. He lay with his eyes closed, his left leg at an awkward angle.

“Paul, speak to me.”

He looked so peaceful lying there. She bent down and kissed him. He did not stir. She put a hand to his nostrils. No breath. His chest was still.

An overpowering numbness overtook her. She fell into a chair. Sometime later a physician came and confirmed the worst: Paul was dead. Now he would never know about the baby. Now they would never marry. After they led her away to her bedroom, she lay down, her grief so deep that she could not even weep. Mrs. Zeman came in, offering a posset, but Susanna turned away. There was no comfort anywhere.

How long it was she did not know before she arose. The household was quiet. Paul was well out of the world's troubles, she thought bitterly, but as an unmarried mother she would be a target for the malicious. She must get away from this place—and soon—before her condition became obvious to all.

Going to Paul's desk then, she pressed a spring that opened the secret compartment, which he had directed her to open in the event of his death. She drew out a letter addressed to her and dated a fortnight after she had agreed to live with him.

My Dearest Susanna, You are perusing this letter because I have died. I hope that we have had many happy years together. Know that your presence has made me the happiest of men. Do not grieve overlong for me, but go abroad as soon as may be possible, for as you are a Catholic and living in the household of a Jew, there are those who may wish to do you harm.

Tears blurred her vision. Angrily she wiped them away. She had no time to grieve. She had to plan how she was going to survive, she and the babe growing in her belly. She could depend only on herself. It was her good fortune that the money Paul had left her would make her a rich woman.

She spent hours that night wrapping each coin and sewing it into her petticoat. It was early morning when Mrs. Zeman ushered in Antonio Carvajal.

“My dear Susanna,” he said, wrapping her hands in his two big ones. “I hope you will pardon my intrusion on your mourning. I wanted to let you know that I will help you in any way possible.”

“I thank you for your kindness, sir. Please come into the parlor.”

As they sat down next to the cold hearth, Mr. Carvajal asked, “It may be too early to inquire, but have you thought about what you might do?”

Susanna shivered. “I must get away from here. My brother, have you found him?”

“My agents tell me that they tracked him as far as the West Indies.”

“I would go find him. He is my only living relative.”

“The voyage would be a long and arduous one—especially for one in your condition—taking at least six weeks.”

Startled, Susanna asked, “How do you know about my ‘condition'?”

“When Mrs. Zeman came to me last night and gave me the news about Paul, she expressed her opinion that you were pregnant. She is very concerned about you.”

That explained the knowing looks the housekeeper had been giving her lately.

“Jeremy is the only one left of my family. I would brave anything to see him again,” said Susanna in a low voice.

“Then if that is truly your resolve, I will arrange passage for you on one of my ships.” He paused and, looking keenly at her, asked, “Have you given thought as to what you might do when you reach the colonies?”

Susanna shook her head.

“I have a plan,” said Carvajal. “I have a good, stout house in Salem where my agent lived until a month ago when he died. You could live there if you would consider taking over his job. Mrs. Zeman has given a good report of you. She says that you have an uncommon facility with accounts and a level head. I have need of both. I would, of course, pay you a fair amount for your services. What say you?”

“Your plan has merit,” said Susanna slowly. “I should not wish to stay in England, not when Cromwell is so fierce against Catholics.”

“You have nothing to fear from that quarter.”

“Why not, sir? My father and aunt were both seized by the Roundheads and thrown into the Fleet, where they died. Why should I not suffer the same fate?”

“I do have some influence with Parliament.”

Susanna looked at Carvajal in astonishment. “Of what nature is this influence?”

Carvajal shrugged his shoulders. “I have done some small favors for Cromwell.”

“But I understood you to be a Catholic?”

Carvajal gave her a wry smile as he said, “We Jews survive by doing what we must—as did Paul.”

“He would never …”

“Why do you think that Parliament gave me, as well as four other London merchants, the army contract for corn? Was it not because I had increased trade with Spain by bringing cochineals, dyes for cloth, from the Canary Islands where I once lived? My ships trade as far as the East and West Indies, Brazil, and Syria. Cromwell may suspect I am a Jew, but he dislikes Papists more and doesn't mind profiting from the taxes I pay on my profits—and the information I bring him about what is happening in various parts of the world. Knowledge is power, Susanna. Cromwell knows that and is prepared to deal with anyone who can supply that knowledge.”

“And Paul, too, worked for Cromwell?”

“He worked for himself and occasionally brought me information. Don't let this distress you, Susanna. Paul did what was necessary to survive, and in the process made a small fortune.”

Her mind reeled. She had loved Paul, thought him so upright a man, loved him for his kind heart and his good works, and all the time he had worked for that wretch who had killed her father and aunt and ousted Jeremy and her from their home. But she dared not tell any of this to Carvajal, who was coolly assessing her, trying to divine her thoughts. She could dissemble also.

“I had not known of these things, sir.”

“I should not have expected you to. Come, Susanna. I need an agent and you need a place to live. Obviously, you cannot stay here. In Paul's will, which I witnessed before you appeared, this house is to become an orphanage. But if you are willing, one of my ships will take you and your housekeeper to Salem on the coast of New England. I have already spoken to Mrs. Zeman about this. She would be willing to accompany you.”

Susanna's nails dug into her palms. So once again others were deciding her fate. But this would be the very last time. “Very well, sir. I will go.”