A Bridge Through Time: (Time Travel) (7 page)

“I certainly know about credit, and about dunning letters,” Jestyn cut in with a laugh. “But how does it work with that strange card you showed me?”

“Well, the numbers on it are my own personal account numbers. Once I want to charge something, the clerk puts it through a machine – a computer register – and it is deducted electronically from the limit of my account.”

“Computers – electronically?”

“I don’t think I want to go into all that right now, Jestyn. Later on, when my mind is clearer, I shall try to explain to you what computers and micro-chips are, but I can assure you I’m no techie so my explanation will be as rudimentary as my description of a jetliner was. But for now, the immediate problem before me is that I’m forced to depend on you for my subsistence.”

“Please, Jane, you offend me by being concerned with my hospitality. You saved my life and Cedric’s. You are a stranger in a land that is alien to you because it is in another time, and you are presently in my care. I will do everything in my power to help you get back but during the time you are under my roof, you are my guest, indefinitely, until you are able to return to your time.”

“Thank you, Jestyn,” Jane sighed with relief. “And by the way,” she said, “I have been meaning to ask you, how is your brother, Cedric? Is he recovering from his head wound?”

“Yes. And he is most anxious to speak with you. I have explained your predicament. You can imagine how astounded he was. But even so I could sense skepticism. I will have to show him these things you have shown me because it would be difficult to convince him that you have come from the future without showing the proof to him. But you can be assured of his complete confidence.”

“Is there a cabinet in your house with a secure lock in which you can lock my handbag?” Jane asked, as she hurriedly replaced everything she had taken from her large bag, except for the stone pendant, which she kept around her neck, and her flashlight. She glanced at Nellie, who still sat at the door, apparently out of earshot, for the room was huge.

“After I show the contents of your knapsack to Cedric I will lock them away in a safe place, Jane,”

“I believe it’s nearing the time for your luncheon,” he added, rising from his chair.

He gathered Jane’s bag that she handed to him and taking a hold of Jane’s hand, he kissed it warmly.

“I will now leave you to your rest. We can talk again this afternoon,”

“Jestyn?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you believe me. It makes a big difference.”

“Of course I believe you. The proof is indisputable. But I would advise you to try to fit in the age you now live in and to not mention any of this to anyone. We cannot know what people’s reactions will be. As I told you before, Devon is highly superstitious country.”

“What kind of reactions?” asked Jane. A shiver ran through her.

“This is the area where the last witches were burned at the stake in England, Jane, and although most people believe themselves very modern now, there are still many who hold their superstitious close to their hearts.”

“How long ago were the last witches burned, Jestyn?”

“I believe about a hundred years ago.”

“That doesn’t seem like a long time ago in your era. Things change very slowly here compared to the future where I am from.”

“These objects you have shown me are dangerous if viewed by people who should not see them. They would be misunderstood.
You
would be misunderstood and that could place you in jeopardy, Jane. I will do my best so that during the time you are here you will not be in danger.”

“I’m glad you call me Jane.”

“I’m glad too, Jane. But as I said, I cannot call you by your given name in public. We must be careful about that.”

“All right,” Jane agreed, feeling that her smile as she gazed at him must make her glow because a feeling of elation wrapped around her each time she was in Jestyn’s company.

CHAPTER 9

Jane realized no one at the Greywick estate did anything in a quick way. She had requested newspapers and when these were finally brought to her she breathed with relief, for the papers would give her something to do even though she had to rest between articles for she had to hold the newspaper above her face and it was exhausting. But the doctor had ordered that her head should be still for a few days so that the swelling would go down.

Jane felt as if she were tied to the bed, depending for everything on the maids. But even though she didn’t like it she followed the doctor’s orders for she wanted to heal as quickly as possible.

Though they did try to make her life pleasant Jane often caught the servants looking at her and then at each other. She realized that Jestyn was right when he said people were afraid of anything they did not understand and she was as big a puzzle as had landed there in ages. So she limited her words to them and suppressed any requests that might seem alien to them. Of the servants it was only with Nellie that she felt completely at ease.

There were a lot of smells, some of them hardly nice. And flies! She was amazed at how many flies buzzed about and how annoying they were. The estate farm had pigs and chickens as well as cows and a great number of horses. This was because there were so many carriages about in place of automobiles.

People hardly seemed to notice either the smells or the flies, at least not as much as she did. They merely brushed them aside as they spoke, as if they were of no concern.

She felt like re-inventing the fly-swatter and passing a few of them around.

Jestyn dropped in to see her once in the morning and once in the afternoon and always left the door wide open, for another concern was that unmarried men and women did not spend time together in private without a chaperone because it would give rise to talk.

Jane looked forward to Jestyn’s visits with a great deal of anticipation. She thought that it was probably obvious to him, for on the third day of her stay he made a tentative suggestion:

“I was wondering if you would like to have lunch with me each day until you are able to be moved downstairs,” he said with trepidation.

“I’d love it!” Jestyn smiled at the quick way in which she had responded.

That very same day lunch for two was served in Jane’s bedroom and her days were shortened considerably. Now the time between lunch and tea, which he also spent with her, flew for Jane, with the help of a few books from the extensive Greywick library that Jestyn brought to her.

“The wonderful library at Greywick was one of the rooms we were allowed to see in the tour I took of your estate,” she said to Jestyn over a delicious lunch of salmon in a creamed asparagus sauce, vegetable compote and a dessert of raspberry crumb cake drowned in a delicious clotted cream the likes of which Jane had never before tasted. So delicious was the meal she almost didn’t mind the flies buzzing about.

“I’m glad the books are helping to make the time go faster for you,” Jestyn said as their hands brushed when he took the dessert plate from her. Jane felt an electric current shoot out from their touch that lingered even as he placed her dessert plate on the small table that had been placed by her bed.

Jane shut away the instant image of her departure from Greywick that came to her mind – leaving Jestyn forever, never to see him again. A very real pain clutched at her heart.

She would deal with that when the time for her departure came, she told herself, but not at this moment, not when Jestyn’s nearness was sending delicious shudders of pleasure throughout her body. She wanted so much to kiss him but she knew that even though she could feel he had that same thought, Nellie, intensely concentrating in her sewing by the door made that impossible.

“Dr. Lenn is coming this afternoon,” Jestyn said as they sipped their glass of white wine, as if reading her thoughts. “I fear the time when you will leave. I will miss you more than you know.”

“And I, Jestyn. I shall miss you, too – so very much!” Jane said, almost in a whisper. Yet she wondered exactly
how
she would be able to leave. Jestyn seemed to have the same thought, for he looked deeply into her eyes. “You
will
be able to return to your time. We’ll find a way,” he said.

With a glance at Nellie, whose head was slightly turned away from them, he raised his hand to Jane’s face and slid the back of his hand slowly down her cheek.

Jane grabbed his hand and held it against her face for a moment until noises along the corridor by her bedroom made her let go of his hand quickly.

She was setting herself up for heartache,” she thought, as the maids came in and began to clear their lunch plates, while both she and Jestyn were immersed in a charged silence. Jane felt her pulse quicken as he gazed silently at her while the maids puttered around them.

Once they had gone, Jestyn reached for Jane’s hand again.

The seconds went by as they remained thus, joined by their hands. Jane felt safe and warmed throughout by her hand in his and wanted the moment to last for a long time. Jestyn must have felt thus too, for he let go only because the time for Dr. Lenn’s visit was nearing.

“I heard a carriage out front,” he said. “I think Dr. Lenn has arrived.”

“I hope he’ll allow me to go downstairs, Jestyn.”

“I hope so, too.”

***

The following day and to her great relief, Jane was allowed to sit in the large drawing room, where she and Jestyn could speak in private if they lowered their voices as they were doing at the moment. Now that she was recovering, Jestyn assured her, she would be able to leave soon, as that was her wish. He had said this with wistfulness, assuring Jane that he did not look forward to that day.

Aunt Florinda, who had been ill with a bad cold and confined to her room was now up and about. Jane immediately liked the dear old lady, who had the sweetest blue eyes Jane had ever seen.

“Aunt Florinda will now be our chaperone, Jane.”

“Never fear, Miss Fielder. I will be immersed in my embroidery and will leave you two young people to your conversation,” she said with a wink, which endeared her further to Jane.

“Aunt Florinda was always my favorite aunt as a child,” Jestyn said, giving the sweet old lady a hug.

“Please call me Jane.”

“Thank you, Jane, and while you remain here, I would like for you to call me aunt.”

“Thank you, Aunt. I like that.”

“How do you feel about going to the library and starting our search?” Jestyn asked. Aunt Florinda will accompany us, won’t you dear?”

“Oh yes, dear,” Aunt Florinda replied. “There are some botanical books with lovely plates of plants and flowers I have been meaning to peruse again,” she told him.

“Come, Jane, I believe you can manage with the crutches. It’s just across the hall beyond the drawing room.”

The library was a huge room and once seated at a large oak table, Jane waited until Jestyn, rummaging around in a locked cabinet, brought out a few journals, while Aunt Florinda settled far from them with a couple of the books she liked.

“These, at least, are not dusty, since they have been locked away,” he said. Looks like there’s a dozen. Many of my ancestors felt the need to write down their thoughts, apparently.”

“Have you read them, Jestyn?”

“I read two or three of the journals when I came into my inheritance and curious as to our history. I’m afraid the day by day accounting of events that were very ordinary did not hold my attention for too long.”

“I’ll start with this one,” Jane said, referring to a leather-bound book with a faded rose ribbon as marker.

Jestyn looked into the first page. “That was written by my great-great grandmother Julia Pinker. She married my great-great grandfather Samuel Hutton Greywick at the age of fifteen.”

“They married young,” Jane observed.

“She describes the first time they met.” Jestyn pointed to the middle of the page.

Jane read the passage, which described the first time The Honorable Julia Pinker, daughter of Sir Alan Jude Pinker of Green Dale Hall and Lady Cecilia Bernadette Salings, met Samuel Greywick for the first time on her sister Amelia’s engagement ball at Green Dale Hall.

They read for a while, taking turns. But nothing in the diary gave them the tiniest lead toward Jane’s pendant. No jewelry was mentioned in the first fifty pages and only toward the end was an engagement ring mentioned.

Jane’s hand closed around her pendant. How often she had done this, thinking she would return to the future in the same way she had gone back to the past, by touching the pendant. But it never worked.

Why had it worked in London, sending her spinning so frightfully to the past and now, when she wanted to return to her life in the future the pendant was acting as just an ordinary pendant?

She had been certain that eventually she would leave Jestyn and had been sorry that she would never see him again, but now there existed the possibility that she would be forced to stay in the past, among people that suspected her of witchcraft merely because of the way she dressed and talked.

No, that couldn’t be happening to her. She
must
find the way!

“I can imagine what you’re thinking,” Jestyn cut into her thoughts. “You’re afraid there is no going back to your own time.”

“Why doesn’t the pendant work to take me back anymore?” she asked, unaware that her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t remain here. Although she was growing more and more attached to Jestyn she couldn’t live in a place where women were chattel, as unable as children to decide anything in their own lives.

“We’ll find the way,” Jestyn said, his hand covering Jane’s comfortingly.

“I want so much to believe that, Jestyn,” Jane said, wiping the tears from her eyes. Jestyn’s hand on hers felt so sweet that she placed her right hand on his.

Jestyn glanced at his Aunt Florinda, busy with her embroidery, and then at Jane. “Let’s go on reading Grand mamma’s diary.”

Reluctantly, Jane let go of his hand and they looked into each other’s eyes.

“I know,” Jane agreed as she flicked the page to the next entry. And they both knew what she meant.

For a while they read the diaries. Jane read Julia’s and Jestyn read the household accounts where he thought he might find the purchase of the pendant. Again she wondered why it was that none of the Greywick women had worn the pendant.

“You must have posed many times for the portrait, since portraits aren’t done in one day,” Jane said. Do you ever remember seeing the artist with the pendant? What if the artist painted the pendant on your portrait, then your father saw the pendant in your hand and ordered the artist to remove it? When was that portrait of you made, Jestyn?”

“That wasn’t the only portrait of me done,” Jestyn said. “My father did not approve of the first portrait of me that was made. I believe he insisted on another portrait and the artist acceded.”

“
Another
portrait! What became of the first portrait?” asked Jane, instantly alert. This disclosure of Jestyn’s was of great importance.

“I don’t know. I remember that father hated it. I had no idea why since the artist made a similar one. Look, Jane, there’s a passage here in Father’s hand concerning the portrait.”

Jestyn read it out loud but the entry dealt only with the price of the portrait. Most of the entries were of estate business, social gatherings he and Mrs. Greywick had attended and short journeys he had made, all in minute detail.

When Jestyn was about to suggest they take a break and order their tea be brought to the library, Jane, whose turn it was to read, exclaimed in surprise. “Jestyn–I think this is important, look!”

Jestyn immediately read where Jane pointed:

I have become incensed at the artist, Kelliton Cannidge’s depiction of my son Jestyn in the portrait I had ordered made of him. I was so upset it ruined my whole day for I noticed he had included an object that Jestyn had not posed with.

On witnessing my ire at his conduct, Cannidge immediately agreed to do another painting for not only had he added an object Jestyn does not own but he had painted Jestyn as he would have looked in a few years—older. This would make him seem a lot older than Cedric, whose portrait is already finished.

I cannot believe how vain some artists are. It is outrageous how dependent we are to them in the depiction of our likenesses. Many of them try to add their own style to the features that were given to us by our Lord and that do not need any improvement. Certainly not from art masters who believe themselves above everything and try to impose a style that distorts nature.

“And you don’t remember seeing the pendant among the artist’s paint jars or in his hand?” Jane asked.

“No. I had never heard of the pendant until you showed it to me.”

“Your father’s dislike of that first portrait must have been because the artist, for some reason known only to him painted the pendant in your hand that made your father furious. That must have been the reason he insisted he make another portrait of you. But it’s amazing it was only your father who could see the pendant, while
you
didn’t!”