Carousel (3 page)

"MacAdoo keeps asking about her, though why he would ask about a stranger is beyond me," a gruff voice commented.

Oh, dear. Mackey.
Wondering how he fared, she opened her eyes, but wasn't given the opportunity to speak.

"Ah, you're awake. Now, if you will tell me your name and why you fell into Wildwood's exercise ring with my prize thoroughbreds, my patience will be rewarded." It was the swamp monster voice. Jaci couldn't remember his name, but she did recall his brusque attitude from earlier.

"I fell on a carousel," she softly replied, unable to raise her voice to match the anger she felt at this man's highhandedness. In both their conversations, he had spoken as though she had invaded his precious space. "Why do you keep referring to State Fair Park as Wildwood?"

"We've had this conversation before."

Listening to his voice, she finally recalled his name--Nicholas Westbrooke. She watched as another man, shorter and fair-haired, pulled Nicholas aside, the conversation now in muted tones she strained to hear.

"...late eighteen hundreds and modern advances of medicine, you would think you could find some way of getting the truth from her."

"What time is it?" Her ear caught the numbers. She blinked several times as she tried to focus on the other man, who at this point appeared much friendlier. When she turned her head, however, intense pain shot up her neck to the base of her skull. She groaned.

"The time? Odd question, truly, but it is half past three in the afternoon." This time the younger man answered, his voice soothing and calm.

She was confused. "But didn't he say it was six something?"

"I beg your pardon?" Nicholas answered, this time his harsh voice not matching the concern she saw in the soft silver of his eyes.

"You know, six o'clock--eighteen hundred hours?" Having flown all around the world at one time or the other, Jaci's mind automatically switched from regular to international time.

"How odd a comment. The blow to your head must have spilled your wits." Nicholas's dark brows came together over assessing eyes.

She watched in fascination as his full lips moved in speech but she had a hard time understanding. Her ears rang and vision blurred, and she knew if she closed her eyes, she would wake up in her own bed. Immediately, she squeezed her eyes shut. It's all a dream, she repeated to herself--all a dream.

"Nicholas, really. There's no sense scaring the wits out of her," the soft-voiced man defended. "I've never heard of such a thing--hundreds of hours. My dear girl, 1874 is the year, not a time of day."

Jaci's eyes flew open to see his frown and note the concern in his gaze while his words assaulted her brain. Her own eyes blurred with tears while her logical, systematic mind shifted to overload and allowed her the only possible way out. She fainted.

Nicholas turned to Thomas, his friend and a practicing physician. "Why would she keep losing consciousness? She doesn't appear to be that delicate."

Thomas listened to the woman's heartbeat, lifted an eyelid, and scrutinized her breathing. "This time she is only in a faint. The blow to her head, while leaving a nasty bump, is apparently creating a pain serious enough to cause her distress. I'll leave laudanum for her. I have no doubt she'll recover quickly."

"Well, if you're sure she's out of danger, I'll leave her in Mrs. Jeffrey's capable hands and travel back to Philadelphia with you. I have several business transactions to conduct that I've been putting off."

Thomas chuckled. "Business? I swear, Nicholas, you are the only man I know who would leave a beautiful woman alone in your bed to conduct business. I doubt there's much hope for you." Shaking his head in mock sadness, Thomas left the room, still chuckling.

Nicholas remained beside the bed, staring down at the creature who had mysteriously appeared in his life. In their two short conversations, he had determined she had a strong will and stubborn streak, both of which were traits he admired.

For reasons he didn't have time to dissect, he felt drawn to her. Something in her green gaze held him spellbound; her speech, a slight drawl he couldn't decipher, intrigued him. His brother, Cameron, would call this attraction fate, but Nicholas didn't believe in fate, or luck.

"Cameron? Damn," Nicholas swore, leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him.

As he gathered his things and called for his carriage, he thought about his younger sibling. Cameron was the main reason he must go to Philadelphia. It was time his brother took responsibility for his life and those who should be a part of it. While in the city, he would also do a little investigating into this woman's strange comments about historical reenactments and carousels.

Nicholas and Thomas traveled in companionable silence in Nicholas's carriage, Thomas's horse tied to the rear. Even as he traveled away from Wildwood, he couldn't keep his mind off the beautiful young woman he had left lying in a bed in his home. Why did she speak in so strange a manner? Where did she call home?

She dressed curiously, asked very intriguing questions, and had the most wondrous green eyes full of mystery. He wondered impulsively if her lips were as soft to the touch as they had looked when she nervously licked them before speaking. He was inexplicably drawn to her vulnerability and the fear she had tried to hide, and would have gladly stayed at her side if not for urgent business.

"Will you see Lycinda while in town?" Thomas questioned idly.

Guilt immediately gripped Nicholas as he thought of Lycinda Edwardson. "Yes, of course." In silent atonement, he promised himself to call on her after he visited with her father, who also happened to be his banker.

* * *

Jaci didn't know how long she had slept. She recalled her strange conversation with the even stranger man, and was determined to get dressed and go home. Her head felt much better, and she knew if she didn't make a quick phone call, Mandy would probably have the police looking for her. She swung her legs over the side of the bed to get up when the little girl bounced into the room.

"Oh, I'm glad you are awake. Before he left, Uncle Nicholas forbid me to bother you, but you slept for days and I thought you might never wake."

The little girl still pretended to be something else, even though they were alone. Jaci decided to get to the bottom of this, once and for all. "You're from a reenactment village, right?"

"I don't understand that word. I'm only five, you know."

"You dress up and pretend to live in a different era, ah, time period." She defined the word.

Amanda looked quite taken with the idea, as though she had never thought of it before. "I don't know why someone would want to do that. I like it right here where I am."

Jaci sighed, trying to convince her. "It's just for fun. You know, pretend; make believe?"

Amanda shrugged, bounced off the bed and headed for the door. "Well, I suppose. Uncle Nicholas says sometimes people pretend to be what they're not. Is that what you mean?" She never even waited for an answer, assuming Jaci would agree with her. "I'll get Molly to bring you something to eat."

Jaci finally relaxed, knowing she hadn't flipped out. She had apparently hit her head pretty hard. The strange dreams must have been caused by her fall or from the medicine that man gave her to drink.

She turned towards the door when a petite young girl of about sixteen came in, carrying a tray laden with a silver coffee pot, cup, and a dish of toast and jellies. Considering the circumstances, Jaci didn't think it at all strange for this girl to be wearing a long black dress, white apron, and a starched white cap set primly on top her head.

Her stomach growled at the thought of food, and she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. She would eat something so not to appear rude, before going home to see Mandy and get back to the normal humdrum of her life.

"Hello, there." At the sound of Jaci's voice, the maid clattered the tray to the small desk. Spinning around, her wide eyes flickered to Jaci then down to the floor. Her hands nervously twisted her apron.

"I brung...brought...you some coffee, miss." The girl curtsied as she spoke, still not looking directly at Jaci.

"Thank you, but I'd much rather have my clothes."

"Excuse me, miss?"

"My clothes. That man--the one who thinks he's in charge? He didn't take them with him, did he?" She felt a moment of panic at not having her possessions.

"Goodness, no. Mister Westbrooke, he wouldn't let us throw them away, strange though they be. Says your belongings are your belongings, and we was...were...not to bother them." The maid curtsied again and scooted across the room to a large cupboard on one wall. "Here they be, miss, right here in the wardrobe. Cleaned them up the best we could, considering you fell in the middle of the horse pens and all." The girl almost smiled, thought better of it, and curtsied again.

Jaci rushed to the cupboard, relieved to see her faded jeans and sweatshirt. She grabbed them close and buried her face in the denim. It was a dream, after all.

"Mister Westbrooke--is he here?" She didn't particularly want to see the man again, but felt she owed him thanks for taking care of her.

"No, miss, he went to the city with Dr. Stillwell. Said he'd be back late today, perhaps."

She assumed Dr. Stillwell was the other man who had faded in and out of her consciousness. She glanced out the window. Considering the lateness of the day, she dumped her clothes on the bed, anxious to get dressed and out of this very strange place.

When she noticed the maid coming over to help, she stopped unbuttoning the nightgown she wore. "I don't need any help. You can go do whatever it is you normally do, but first--" Jaci hesitated. "First, can you tell me where the bathroom is?"

"Bathroom, miss?"

"Yes, the bathroom. You know, to...ah...." She snapped her teeth together in frustration. In her mind, she formed a letter to the administrator of this place, suggesting the employees be a little more helpful and a little less authentic.

"Oh." Recognition must have dawned on the maid, for she moved forward, this time bending over and removing a china chamber pot from beneath the bed. "There you be, miss. I'll leave you to your morning toilet."

Jaci's mouth dropped open as she stared. The maid curtsied yet again before leaving the room.

"This is too much," she muttered as she jerked on her clothes. She splashed water on her face from the china bowl sitting on a commode. Boy, would she have a story for Mandy. She'd have to bring her sister back to the village; it was the kind of thing Mandy would like.

Leaving behind the frilly room and unbidden memories of the tall, handsome stranger, she descended a wide curved staircase to a marble foyer. The size of the house was impressive and Jaci certainly hoped the State Fair Board could recoup their money from this extravagance. She spied a boy dressed in knee breeches, shirt and vest near the door and assumed him to be part of the tour.

"Would you please call me a taxi?" she asked when she drew near. He screwed his face into a frown, apparently not understanding.

"You know--a taxi, a cab, a hack?"

"Oh, yes, miss. I suppose that would be possible, but why would you want one?"

"To go home, of course." She sighed; tired of this game everyone except her seemed to enjoy playing.

"But, ma'am. If I was to travel the sixteen miles to town to find you a hack, only to get him to travel the sixteen miles out here to collect you, wouldn't it be easier if you took Mister Westbrooke's carriage into town straight-away?" The boy eyed her strangely, as though she didn't make sense but he did.

She thought she would laugh out loud at the absurdity of the situation, but from the boy's look, he wouldn't think it funny. Instead, she decided to play along.

"Okay, fine. We'll take Mister Westbrooke's carriage."

"Well, I'm afraid you can't do that."

"Why not?" she screeched at the youngster, unable to suspend her anger at his stubborn insistence on playing his role.

The boy straightened to his full height, and Jaci realized even though he appeared years younger than her, he was definitely much larger.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that I must get home."

"Yes, well, be that as it may, you still can't take the carriage."

"And the reason?" This was worse than playing twenty questions with Mandy.

"Mister Westbrooke took the carriage to Philadelphia, and besides, he doesn't allow anyone to take it without his permission. What other reason might there be?" The boy gave his answer like she was the muddle-headed one. For a minute, Jaci actually considered she might still be under the influence of whatever drug they had given her earlier.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, jerking the door open on her own. "I can find a phone by myself." The brightness of the late afternoon sun assailed her the minute she stepped through the door. She raised a hand to shade her eyes, squinting in all directions to gain her bearings.

Nothing appeared familiar. A paddock full of horses was visible off to the right, but the carousel had completely disappeared. She moved her gaze more slowly from place to place. She saw no phones or admission booth. There appeared to be no curio shop selling souvenirs of the recreation of history. All around her, leaves had turned bright yellow and red, where this morning--or was it yesterday?--they were still green, though fall hung heavy in the air.

She skirted the chairs on the porch and skipped down the steps, racing along the dirt road that ran parallel to the fence. Where was the asphalt? She strained her eyes to find some familiar landmark, but nothing was as it had been. Veering to the left, she ran faster, trees and scenery blurring as tears welled up and spilled over.

Her heart pounded in rhythm with her feet. The varied conversations of the people here echoed through her mind as she ran. She recalled the girl's belief that she lived in this period of long dresses and formal manners, the doctor and Nicholas conversing about the date. What had they insisted--? 1874 was the date, not a time?