Moonlight Wishes In Time (27 page)

Mrs. Sinclair’s face relaxed
…slightly.

“I do not think you can be fully aware of how fond William has become of you over these past few days, Miss Crockwell, in addition to establishing himself as your knight in shining armor
.” She paused and smiled kindly, the first such smile that Mattie had seen from her. Suddenly, Mattie saw the woman that William said his mother was capable of being.

“But I think you are right,” Mrs. Sinclair continued
. “Even were it possible for William to accompany you to your time, he would not leave his estates, or his family. We women are destined to depend upon men for our food and shelter. And as I am a widow, and Sylvie seems determined to become a spinster, we are dependent upon William to provide for us. If William were to”—she seemed to struggle for words—“disappear, the estate would pass to a distant cousin of my husband’s, and Sylvie and I would have to find a home elsewhere.”

Mattie couldn’t bear the
image of Mrs. Sinclair and Sylvie holed up in some rat trap somewhere in the slums of London.

“That’s not going to happen, Mrs. Sinclair,” Mattie said firmly
.

Mrs. Sinclair nodded and eyed her pensively.

“And what if you cannot return to your time, Miss Crockwell?”

“Me?” Mattie said as she stalled for time
. What of her? She had no earthly idea.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Mrs. Sinclair
. If that happens, and I hope it doesn’t, but if it does, then I’ll probably try to find a job as a bookkeeper or maybe a teacher.”

“A bookkeeper
? A teacher?” Mrs. Sinclair echoed. “I am not aware of any women in these professions. Did you mean a governess?”

Visions of
Jane Eyre
ran through Mattie’s mind. “Oh, gosh, no,” she said. “Not a governess.”

“It is not always an enviable position, I admit,” Mrs. Sinclair said sympathetically
. “And yet a profession Sylvie might need to pursue one day if she does not marry and William were to abandon his estates. Perhaps even myself. William must marry and produce an heir.”

Mattie searched her face to see if she was smiling, but she was not
. She was serious. Mattie really couldn’t bear the thought of the two women working as governesses. It seemed ludicrous. As for herself, was it too early in the nineteenth century for women teachers? Surely, they had female teachers in the United States in 1825, didn’t they? One-room schools?

“I would not wish that on either of you, Mrs. Sinclair,” Mattie said
. “I am sure William will marry and produce an heir.”

“That has been my dearest hope,” Mrs. Sinclair sighed
. She rose. “Let us return to join Sylvie. She will have grown tired of attending to my correspondence. Perhaps you and she could pay a call on dear Louisa Covington. She is such a lovely young woman.”

Mattie clasped her hands behind her back and squeezed her fingers so hard that they hurt
.
Dear Louisa Covington.

She didn’t think Mrs. Sinclair had raised Louisa’s name deliberately to distress her
. The vision of lovely Sylvie acting as a governess prompted Mattie to ask the question.

“Do you intend for William to marry Louisa Covington?”

Mrs. Sinclair hesitated before resuming her step. She directed a sharp eye toward Mattie, who gave the older woman her best blank stare.

“Would that upset you, Miss Crockwell?”

“Me? Oh, no! I’m sure they would get along just fine,” Mattie said through her teeth.

“I think they would suit as well, but I am not certain that William sees her as a potential wife.”

“At the risk of sounding nosey, have you suggested it to him?”

“I have not
.” Mrs. Sinclair gave a short laugh. “William is headstrong. He will resist any suggestions I might make in the selection of a wife, and in fact, has already.”

“Do you think Louisa wants to marry him
?” Mattie seemed almost to relish the painful discussion in some sort of masochistic way.

“I am not sure,” Mrs. Sinclair replied
. “I thought so at one time, but since the arrival of Mr. Stephen Carver, I am not at all certain she would choose William.”

Mattie relished Mrs. Sinclair’s response
. Yes! Stephen! Mrs. Sinclair’s next words caught her off guard.

“I fear the subject of
a potential wife for William must be distressing for you, Miss Crockwell.”

A hot tear spilled from Mattie’s right eye, and she wiped it away hastily
.

“No, no
. As I told you, William and I don’t…” She tried again. “That is, there’s nothing…”

“For your sake, Miss Crockwell, if
and when you return to the future, I hope there is not.”

Mattie fought against further tears as they returned to the house to find Lord Hamilton awaiting Mrs. Sinclair
. His sons were engaged elsewhere, he mentioned, otherwise they would have accompanied him to visit Miss Sinclair and Miss Crockwell.

Mattie pled another handy Georgian headache and retreated to the library to hold vigil until William returned
. She knew she couldn’t exactly hang out in the room that reminded her of William for the next forty-eight hours until his return, but she determined to give it a good try. Sylvie went to pay a call on Louisa, unaccompanied by headachy Mattie.

****

William found her there two days later eagerly anticipating his return. She’d heard the sound of a carriage, not an unusual sound in the busy lives of the social Mrs. and Miss Sinclair, and she hoped it was William.

She smoothed her borrowed rose-colored muslin dress and listened to the sound of his voice greeting servants as he entered the house
. Given the need to greet his mother and sister, she doubted he would come to the library any time soon, but she hoped he would make his way there eventually. If he didn’t come, she would have to peep out into the hall and appear to nonchalantly pass by when she heard his voice.

The door burst open, startling her.

“Miss Crockwell,” William exclaimed. “You are here, just as I imagined you.”

Mattie, unsure of what he meant, jumped up.

“William! It’s so good to see you.” She choked down the rush of emotion in her voice.

He moved to her side to take her hands in his
. Mattie hated the cold, clammy feel of her hands, but he didn’t grimace.

“It is good to see you as well, Miss Crockwell,” William said
. He continued holding her hands beyond what even she knew to be appropriate for the era. Maybe he really did have feelings for her, she thought. It hardly seemed likely, though. She was not one of the polished and elegant Georgian women he was used to.

“How was your trip?” she asked.

“Too long,” he answered. He ran his thumbs across the back of her hands before releasing her. Unsupported by legs suddenly gone weak, she sank down onto the edge of her chair.

“Have you been well?” he asked as he moved to the side table to pour himself a drink
. He offered her one, but she declined, remembering what the strong alcohol had done to her last time.

“Yes
. I’ve been reading a lot, spending a lot of time in your library. I hope you don’t mind,” Mattie said.

“Not at all,” he said as he took a seat across from her
. “I am happy to see you using it.”

“Oh, good,” she murmured
. She dropped her eyes from his searching gaze. What was he looking for in her expression? What was she showing? She pressed her lips together and lifted her head.

“You just arrived.
Have you seen your mother and Sylvie? I think they’re around.”

“Are they?” he asked vaguely
. He settled back into his chair and regarded her steadily. She squirmed under his gaze. “I came first to the library to see if you were here.”

“Oh!” she said
. Her breathing felt shallow, and she tried to take a deep breath to steady her nerves without seeming to do so.

Abruptly, William leaned forward again.

“I am so pleased to see that you are still here, Miss Crockwell,” he said. “I feared the worst.”

Mattie thought she’d die with joy at his words.

“The worst?”

“That you would be gone, back to your time
. That we did not have the thirty days we—
I
—hoped for.”

Mattie stared at him open mouthed
. The man was saying whatever came to his mind, she thought, without the usual reticence of his society.

“William,” she began
, “I-I don’t know what to say. Your mother—”

William set his drink down with a clatter, rose swiftly and pulled her up
. She thought he was going to pull her into his arms, but he stopped short and held her hands.

“Miss Crockwell
! I have missed you. I hoped I could hold my tongue when I arrived, but I find myself groveling before you like some besotted youth.”

“Oh, William,” Mattie breathed
. “I really, really missed you too. And I promised myself I’d keep my mouth shut as well.”

He
kissed the back of her hands, and she thought she finally understood the full sense of the word “swoon,” as she was just about to do. For a Georgian man probably long gone in her time, his lips were remarkably warm. She wondered briefly if she were still dreaming. This couldn’t really be happening to her, could it?

He raised his head and smiled warmly
.

“And what did my mother say?” he asked
. “I trust she was gracious to you as I asked.”

“She was, William,” Mattie reassured him
. “She is. But she’s worried about you. About us.”

He nodded.

“She is correct to be worried. I am completely enamored of you.”

“What?” D
id he mean love? This fast? Mattie seriously doubted that. She knew
she
was in love, but she’d been in love with him for months—in a book.

“William,” she
said, attempting to reason with him, “Your mother thinks that if I manage to leave on the next full moon, you will try to leave with me.” She ignored the pounding in her ears. What possessed her to actually say that? Of course, he wasn’t coming with her. This wasn’t some fairy tale romance. This was real life! And her hero had a life here in the nineteenth century. She almost laughed at the words “real life.”

“But you cannot leave, Mattie,” he said as he pulled her hands against his chest
. “I will do everything in my power to ensure that you do not leave me.”

Mattie’s already weakened legs gave way, and she started to sag
. William, his face showing alarm, pulled her into his arms.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” Mattie said in a muffled voice, her face pressed against his chest
. “My legs are wobbly.”

“I think mine are as well
.” He chuckled as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

Mattie resisted the urge to raise her face to his
. If she did, she knew she would be lost. She feared she wouldn’t have the willpower to try to get back to her own time. She had no idea what William wanted from her. Surely he wasn’t suggesting marriage, was he? After only a few days? She wondered if he wasn’t just in love with the idea of being in love with a strange phenomenon—a woman from the future.

“Mattie,” he whispered against her hair.

“Yes?”

“Will you look at me?”

“Why?” she stalled. Her heart pounded. Surely, he could hear it, feel it against his chest.

“Mattie,” he repeated
. “Look at me.”

Mattie raised her face
. He cupped her face in an exquisitely gentle caress, and she closed her eyes against the intimate sincerity in his brown eyes.

Warm lips touched her lips in a gentle kiss
. She remembered the feel of his lips, and she thought she might drown in the sensation. His kiss was tender, with an undercurrent of passion that resonated in his body. A tremor ran between them, and William raised his head.

“Mattie, Mattie,” he whispered
. “What shall we do? What will the future hold for us?”

She buried her face against his chest again.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” she said.

“If you could, if you can
, will you stay with me?”

Vague images of the plague, inadequate medical care, infant mortality and a lifetime without running water bounced around in her mind.

“I can’t—” she began when the door flew open.

“William!” Sylvie almost shrieked
. “Our mother follows!”

William dropped his arms and took a step back from Mattie
. She caught his look of pain and confusion before she turned to look toward the door.

Sylvie entered the room, a shocked expression on her face, albeit with a slight lift of her lips
. Mrs. Sinclair followed. Sylvie approached her brother and embraced him, and Mrs. Sinclair, her eyes darting between Mattie and William, offered her cheek for a kiss.