Across the Ages (Across the Ages Book One) (5 page)

EIGHT

GRANDMOTHER’S JOURNALS

LUCY WOKE
in her bed. The wet clothes she’d worn to the funeral were gone and she had on a clean nightdress. Her hair, which she’d worn up in a tight bun yesterday now rested around her head in soft brown curls.

“Miss, you’re awake?” Harriet came over to Lucy’s bed, her hands clasped in front of her, worry scrunching her face. 

“It would seem so,” Lucy said, rolling onto her side, toward Harriet.

Her maid wore her normal dowdy flower print with her hair tucked under a cap. But her face was pretty and had a sweet quality. “Patrick told me that your horse is due to give birth anytime now,” Harriet said as she busied herself organizing Lucy’s room.

“Oh?”

“Yes, Mother says she’s going to help Patrick deliver the foal.”

“That would be a sight,” Lucy said softly. It’d been months since she’d ridden.

“Would you like something to eat? Perhaps some hot chocolate and toast?” When Lucy didn’t respond right away, she continued, “Your family is down to supper. I can help you dress if’n you should like to join them. I believe Mother prepared pheasant with new—”

“I’ll stay here.” The thought of going down and socializing made Lucy’s already sour stomach turn downright sickly.

“Toast and hot chocolate would be lovely, thank you Harriet.”

Her maid curtsied and started for the door, then stopped. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Your mother dropped off this wooden box while you slept. Would you like to take a look?” Harriet waited.

“What’s in it?” Lucy asked.

“It’s tied so I didn’t open it.” She lifted the box. “But there’s a note from your grandmother.” She raised her hazel eyes hopefully. 

“Really?” That did perk her up.

“Yes, Miss.”

Lucy sat up and smoothed the covers on her lap. “Then yes, I would like to see it.”

Harriet brought the box over and set it on the bed in front of Lucy. “I’ll be back shortly with your breakfast.”

“Thank you, Harriet.”

“Course.” She curtsied and left.

Lucy took a deep breath. The wooden box was tied closed with a burlap string. On a piece of ivory colored paper hanging from the string were the words:
From Your Grandmother
.

Lucy’s hands shook as she untied it. What could her grandmother have left for her? She lifted the lid. Inside were at least a dozen leather bound books. She carefully picked up the one lying horizontally across the others and opened it. The ink on the first page was smeared in places, like her grandmother had written the words in a hurry. Despite the smudges, the words across the top were easy to read.

Dearest Lucy,

If you’re reading this it’s because I’m gone. Please don’t be sad. My death was inevitable. Even the most highly trained doctors advised there was nothing to be done. I’ve accepted my fate, as should you. Please know my darling, I’ve lived not just one but two big lives. I’ve loved deeply, travelled extensively, and seen more than you could possibly imagine. My life has been more than full. There were even times when I believed I didn’t deserve so much.

If you wish to understand what I’m talking about, who I truly was, and how I lived, read my journals. Perhaps you’ll even follow in my footsteps. You have the temperament for it. Whatever you decide, find a way to love wholly. And most importantly, know I’m always with you.

Sincerely,

Grandmother Agatha

Lucy read the words again. …Lived two big lives… and …Follow in my footsteps… gave her pause. What did her grandmother mean? Lucy hoped that by reading the journals she’d figure it out. Rearranging her pillows, she flipped the page.

Written in her grandmother’s flowing script, Lucy began to read:

Soth
e
rsby, England

16
th
April, 1745.

After the strange occurrence today, which was also an entire week in another time, I have decided keeping this journal is of the utmost importance. My dear friends Mary and Grace will be so pleased. They keep journals and have recommended I follow suit on more than one occasion over the years.

For myself, I had preferred reading or stargazing in lieu of putting ink to paper and tracking my dull days. My hand already hurts and my fingers are stained with ink, but I cannot ask my maid to do the writing. She might think I have gone mad and tell my mum and dad.

Let me begin.

Over the past six months, Grace, Mary, and I all turned eighteen. My birthday was celebrated yesterday. It was lovely, an entire day filled with dancing, delicious food, games, and flirting. The three of us enjoyed ourselves immensely. I danced with my intended, the Count Peter Polenska of Vega. He appears to be a kind and lovely man as does Grace’s Sir Charles Ettelbey and Mary’s Lord Franklin Smythe.

While each of us deems the match made for us suitable, we also determined we needed a final hurrah and acted accordingly.

Grace and Mary removed their stockings, walked to the edge of the dock, and dipped their toes into the cool pond while I decided to stay in the meadow until I found a four-leaf clover. I wanted to press it into my Bible. I had told myself that if I found one it would be Providence’s way of telling me my life with the Count would be happy.

I didn’t find a four-leaf clover. What I found instead was a strange circular piece of metal, the outside shaped like a half circle. Within it are two smaller circles. They are attached to twenty-four smaller circles. I picked it up, thinking it must be even more lucky than the clover and was whisked—

Ellen burst into the room, interrupting. “Lucy, Mother says she’s received word that everyone is calling your ball a crush. It is the talk of the town.”

Lucy closed the journal and placed it back in the box.

“Is that so?” It felt like an age since she’d seen her grandmother, much longer than the two weeks since she’d died.

“Yes.” Even in her gray dinner dress with her hair up and tied in a black ribbon it was obvious Ellen would be a great beauty. They were all in mourning. “Mother says that Mrs. Hadley told her that—”

“Did you need something?” Lucy asked. She knew she sounded rude but she was in no mood to listen to what Mother’s friends had to say. She wanted Ellen to leave so she could get back to the journals.

“Yes. Sorry, Luce.” She glanced down a moment, clasping her hands behind her back. “Father ordered me up here to fetch you.” She stuck out her bottom lip as she walked over to the bed. “Like a maid.” She sounded devastated.

Lucy thought about telling Ellen that if she wanted equal rights for all people that meant equal work as well. Instead Lucy said, “All right. Please send in Harriet to help me dress.”

Ellen shook her head and her eyes grew large. “No, Father said you were to come down immediately, dressed or not.” Her bottom lip trembled.

“Very well.” Lucy set aside the box and tossed back the covers. A quick glance revealed she was decent enough. “Hand me my wrap,” she said to Ellen, pointing at the black wrap hanging over her chair.

While Ellen gathered it up, Lucy went over to her slippers but as she was about to put them on, she noticed a small garden snake curled inside one of them. “There you are you cheeky little thing.”

“Excuse me, sister? I am not cheeky.” Ellen said, mortified, her mouth propped open with indignation.

“Sorry, Ellen. I wasn’t speaking to you, but to the snake in my slipper. See it?”

Ellen screamed and tore onto the bed. “Oh dear Heaven. Kill it. Please.”

Lucy went over to her table and picked up the contraption she’d built to catch it the last time they’d been in Sothersby. When pulled the lever inside the wooden box would snap the lid shut. Then it could be used as a carrier so she could set the snake free outside. “I’m not going to kill it. He’s adorable.” She placed the cage on the floor in front of the snake. “Come on, snake. Get inside. Don’t worry, I’ll send you into the garden.” Lucy searched for something to use to coax it in and picked up the other slipper. The snake hissed and tried to slither away, but Lucy got it into the box, then snapped the lid shut. “There. See?” She picked up the cage and set it on her dressing table, then took the wrap Ellen had dropped and put it on.

“I’ll turn the snake out into the garden in the morn,” Ellen said, carefully climbing off the bed. “You can be so strange at times, Lucy.”

“I know.” Lucy couldn’t deny the accusation. It was true. She wasn’t like other girls her age. Sitting at her dressing table she began running a brush through her hair as best she could. Finished, she said, “I’m ready. Lead on, dear sister.”

NINE

THIRD QUARTER MOON

SUPPER WITH
Lucy’s family was noteworthy. Lucy followed Ellen into the dining room just as the main course was being served. At Lucy’s place still sat the other courses. It was way too much food.

“Father. Mother.” Ellen curtsied and then sat next to Beaufort. He made a face at her and she smiled.

Lucy curtsied and then sat in her spot across the table from Ellen and Beaufort and next to where Grandmother used to sit.

Her father cut into a hunk of meat and stuffed it in his mouth. “How are you getting on? Feeling any better?” he asked.

Lucy placed her napkin in her lap, and brought the soup forward. She picked up her spoon. “Very well, thank you.”

“Good. No sense starving. You must keep up your strength,” her mother said.

“Agreed!” Winston shouted so loud the chandelier above them shook and dripped wax onto the table and her hand.

Ellen let out a small scream. Beaufort snorted with glee.

Lucy ate another spoonful. “Thank you for your concern and thank you for the journals.” She smiled at her mother.”

“Of course, dear. I figured you’d have more use for them than I.”

“Is that what you were reading when I walked in?” Ellen asked.

“Yes,” Lucy responded, but didn’t elaborate.

“Dashel has been the perfect gentlemen, hasn’t he?” her mother said.

“He has.”

“If Dashel hadn’t found you the night of Grandmother’s funeral you might have caught your death,” Beaufort added, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth.

“Oh my, yes. Your father didn’t want to chance the rain so Dashel offered to search for you.”

“He’s like a knight in shining armor,” Ellen added, wistfully.

“It seems I am deeply indebted in my betrothed. I’ll have to find a way to thank him properly.” Lucy took a sip of the liquid in her glass.

“With a kiss,” Ellen said, giggling and blushing brightly.

“A poem would be a lovely gesture,” her mother said, giving Ellen an irritated glare.

“Save the kissing for after the wedding,” her father added.

“A poem would be nice,” Lucy said.

The rest of supper went like that. They talked of dresses, parties, the wedding, and other things that seemed trivial given that her grandmother had died.

After dessert was served, Lucy excused herself. “I’m going out to the stables and check on my horse. She’s due anytime.” Lucy tucked her napkin under her plate.

“It’s late. Perhaps you should check on her in the morning,” her mother said.

“If you please, I’d really like to check on her tonight.” She gave her father a pointed look, hoping he’d remember what he’d said the night of her ball, that she could make her own choices.

“Let the child check on her horse,” he said.

Lucy went to the door.

The clock chimed eleven o’clock in the evening.

TEN

GRANDMOTHER’S GRAVE

LUCY HAD
never been afraid of the dark, especially on a night like tonight when the moon shone so brightly in the clear sky. But as she skirted the barn and made her way to the cemetery, memories of the previous night’s events wiggled their way into her mind and fear curled its way through her insides.

A dark thing like an apparition had risen from the mist meaning to do her harm. A bright light had flashed. Two names, Apep and Hathor had been spoken. Then she’d fainted.

At last she arrived at her grandmother’s grave. It pained her to see the dirt piled over the top, made her grandmother’s death even more real. Tears sprang into Lucy’s eyes at the thought of never seeing her grandmother’s face again, never hearing her exhilarating stories.

“It isn’t fair,” she whispered. “I need you. You said you had things to tell me.”

“There, there, dear. I told you not to be sad.”

Lucy froze. Her grandmother stood in front of her, directly on top of the grave.

Lucy fell back. She was so surprised. “Grandmother? Are you real?” She rubbed at her eyes.

“As real as a dead person can be,” her grandmother chuckled.

Lucy got up, brushing her hands on her wrap. “Can I touch you?” She put a hand out to touch her grandmother’s face, but hesitated.

“I’m a ghost, dear. You can’t touch a ghost.”

“Oh.” Lucy sniffled. “Well it’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you too.” Agatha sort of float-stepped off the mound of her grave and came to stand next to Lucy. “I can’t stay long. I’m required elsewhere, but I have something for you.” She reached under the collar of the black dress she’d been buried in and took out the locket.

“Your locket?”

“The locket isn’t the most important part of the necklace.” She opened it to reveal the half circle Lucy had read about in her grandmother’s journal.

“I just read about this,” Lucy said.

“You can see it?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “It looks broken.”

Her grandmother nodded. “I believe it is broken too.”

Lucy moved closer, studying the way it curved.

“For nearly four decades I believed it was a lucky charm. Last year I found some writings that revealed it’s actually an amulet.” She lifted it toward the light of the moon. “It can do something incredible.”

“It can?” Lucy leaned forward, reaching out a finger to touch it.

Her grandmother pulled it away. “Wait. Before you touch it you need to understand what I’ve learned.”

“I’m listening, Grandmother.” A deep longing swirled within Lucy, a feeling she’d never felt before.

“Here’s what I know. The moment you touch this piece of metal your life will change forever. So you must think it through.” As her grandmother spoke she brought the amulet close to her chest.

“Why? What happens?”

“The amulet takes you to your true love, Lucy.”

That really got Lucy’s attention. “It does?”

“Yes.” Her grandmother smiled a sad, sad smile.

“Well of course I want that.”

“Even though you’re engaged to be married? To a good man I might add.”

That brought Lucy up short. “He isn’t my true love is he?”

“No, dear. But you already knew that.”

Lucy bobbed her head in agreement, then took a short breath. The air smelled of burning firewood and fresh dirt. A part of Lucy she did love Dashel. Life would be so much easier if she accepted him. “Do you know who my true love is?” Lucy tried to remain calm, but her excitement couldn’t be contained. She trembled with joy at the idea of meeting the man who should be hers, knowing the man who would love her entirely.

“No, dear, I do not. I know that the power of the amulet will take you to your true love no matter where he is and that includes time and space.”

That didn’t make sense. “I do not understand.”

“For me, when I touched the amulet, its power sent me two hundred years into the future, to another continent.”

For the first time in Lucy’s life she questioned her grandmother’s sanity. There was nothing in the world powerful enough to transport a person into the future. “But what about Grandfather?” It was the most reasonable question she could summon.

“The Count isn’t your grandfather, dear. Not really. Your grandfather lives in a time that hasn’t yet taken place, in a land that is very new.” While she spoke, Lucy could hear the excitement, love and longing in her grandmother’s voice. Wherever she’d been that was the place where her heart belonged. Lucy was certain of that.

“What’s his name, then? My real grandfather.”

Agatha’s apparition began to shimmer. “His name is Charles Kincaid.” She touched a hand to Lucy’s face. Or tried. “The choice is yours, child. Do you want the amulet or not?”

Lucy was torn. Her mind told her not to believe the ghost, that this was some sort of trickery, but her heart screamed yes.

“Decide, Granddaughter.” Agatha opened the locket and held it toward Lucy.

A million thoughts sparked across Lucy’s mind. If she touched the locket, where would it take her? How would she get back? What would happen if she went back in time? Or worse, forward? “I’m unsure, Grandmother. I still have so many questions.” She hugged herself, trying to hold the worry and nervousness within. “Can’t you stay longer?”

“I’m sorry, dear. My time has come. You must make your choice quickly.”

Her grandmother’s words solidified her decision. She would listen to her heart, not her head. Reaching out she took the locket, wrapping it in her hand. The instant her fingers brushed the cold copper, her world changed.