The Passage (35 page)

“I’ll help you undress, madam, if that’s all right.  I can’t seem to find Liza anywhere.  Perhaps she was unwell,” Harriet suggested, implying that it was Liza’s time of the month. 

“Yes, fine, but first bring me a cup of wine, Harriet.  I feel quite overcome tonight.”

“Is there a reason for your high spirits, madam?” Harriet asked. 
She always was a curious girl,
Jane thought as she shooed the girl out of the room.

“None at all, Harriet; none at all.  Now be quick about it, girl.”

September 2013

Max Everly stared open-mouthed at the notebook before him.  God, he’d been a fool; a fool of epic proportions.  He hadn’t been able to see the wood for the trees, but the answer had been staring him in the face this whole time.  He’d meant to ask Neve about the secret passage, but never got the chance, and the last few months Max had lived in constant fear of Hugo Everly coming back to exact his revenge.  Max looked over his shoulder all through May and June, finally beginning to regain some sense of calm by July.  If Hugo hadn’t come for him by then, or made some kind of accusation of attempted murder, he wasn’t likely to.  Hugo seemed to have gone on to London and got lost in that sea of humanity that was the capital.  Perhaps he’d stay there for the rest of his days, working as a delivery boy for some seedy restaurant or unloading packing crates.  As long as he remained there, nothing he did mattered.

The filming had finished and the trucks and equipment disappeared as quickly as they arrived, leaving Max with his profitable museum venture and a fat check already deposited to his bank for the film fee.  The village seemed strangely quiet once the movie people left, leaving Max feeling despondent and listless.  He hadn’t looked at Harry’s notebook in months, but pulled it out again two weeks ago, rereading his favorite passages and scouring for clues as to the location of the passage.  Neve had found it and used it several times.  It had to be fairly easy to operate if she could go back and forth without any difficulty and bring that – Max nearly choked on his fury as he thought of Hugo – buffoon, was the best he could come up with.  Neither one of them seemed to suffer any ill effects from traveling through time.  The damn passageway had to be right there, in front of his nose.

Max leafed through the notebook again and again, looking for patterns, anything that resembled a code, of phrases that could be a double entendre.  It had to be there.  Harry couldn’t have put all his experiences in writing and not mentioned how to open the damn passageway.  He’d been such a clever boy, Max thought as he turned back to the first page yet again.  And that’s when it dawned on him.  It was so simple, it made him laugh.  Nearly every page held a little sketch to illustrate Harry’s narrative.  And at the top of the first page, as well as on the very last page when Harry returned, there was a picture of a six-petaled flower with the center shaded in neatly.  That had to mean something, since all the other drawings meant something as well.  Max shoved the notebook in the drawer and practically ran to the church, praying all the while that Reverend Lambert wouldn’t be skulking around, gasping for a cup of tea as usual and looking for a willing victim to join him in a tin of biscuits and an ecclesiastical discussion.

Max catapulted into the church and raced down the stairs to the crypt, desperate to check his theory.  His heart pounded as he stood next to the tomb of the knight and looked for the flower.  There were several flowers carved into the frieze around the crypt, but only one – ONLY ONE – had six petals.  Max reached out his hand.  A tremor went through him as he lightly touched the center of the flower.  This was it; his last chance to find the way to the past.  If it worked, he might be able to change what had happened, might even be able to get rid of Hugo Everly before he came to the present, depending on what year he landed in.  Max took a deep breath and pushed the button, shaking with excitement as a scraping noise accompanied the opening of the panel.  Max found the corresponding flower on the inside to make sure he could open the panel again, and slowly walked up the stairs into the church, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs. 

Max leaned against the wooden door, surveying the building he stepped into.  Dear God, he’d done it.  He’d DONE IT!  Max turned around and sprinted back down the steps and back to his own time.  Now that he knew how to work the mechanism, he had to think things through, but first, he needed a little tour of reconnaissance.  He’d grab some period clothes from the museum and come back later with a few coins in his pocket.  A walk to the village and a drink at the public house would be a nice start.  He’d learn what year he was in, pick up some local gossip, and find out something about the lord of the manor.  Then, armed with pertinent information, he could go about formulating a plan. 

Max grinned wolfishly as he patted Tilly’s head when she ran out to greet him at the gate.  “We’re in business, old girl,” he said.  “And this time, I’ll get it right.” 

September 1685

By the time we left Everly Manor it had to be past nine, but it might as well have been the dead of night.  The road was deserted, the only light cast by a sliver of the moon, hanging at a jaunty angle in the pitch-black sky.  The night was hazy, so the heavens appeared like a pool of tar spilled over the universe, not a single pinprick of starlight visible through the muggy air.  The road wasn’t safe after dark, but Hugo had his sword and a dagger at his belt.  We had to put as much distance between us and Cranley as possible before we stopped for the night.  Hugo knew of an inn where we could bed down, but it was at least two hours away. 

After about an hour’s ride my eyelids began to grow heavy, and my body felt as if it were welded to the saddle; my center of gravity somewhere right around my lower belly.  I wasn’t showing yet, but pregnancy was already making itself known.  I felt unusually tired, had to go to the bathroom every hour, and experienced an ongoing nausea which was relieved only by the intake of food, which in turn made me feel even sicker.  Seventeenth-century fare wasn’t going to make things any easier, but we couldn’t afford to wait.  We hoped to reach France before I started my second trimester, and settle somewhere where I could pass the rest of the pregnancy in calm surroundings. 

Had Hugo been alone, he would have galloped at breakneck speed, but I was too afraid to suffer another miscarriage.  Our pace was stately, which meant that we weren’t covering more than two to three miles per hour.  The gentle swaying of the horse began to lull me to sleep; my eyes closing of their own accord as the night around me grew more silent, the nocturnal noises muffled by the humid air.  Hugo periodically reached out and shook my shoulder to make sure I was awake and didn’t slide off the horse.  He was worried about me, but we couldn’t afford to luxuriate at Everly Manor with soldiers stationed in the village. 

Hugo heard the sound of hoofbeats long before me, his body growing stiff in the saddle and his hand automatically going for his sword.  No one would be on the road at this hour unless they were either escaping or pursuing their quarry.  Two men materialized out of the darkness, their occupation instantly recognizable by the reflection of feeble moonlight on their breastplates.  They were soldiers, likely ones from the village, but neither of them had been with Captain Humphries when he came to arrest Hugo in May.  Hugo deliberately removed his hand from his sword and forced himself to relax, his demeanor one of surprise rather than apprehension. 

“Good evening to you, gentlemen,” he called out as the soldiers drew abreast, their eyes narrowed in appraisal of the situation.

“Your name, sir,” one of them demanded.

“Richard Tully, and this is my wife, Alice.” Had I not been shaking with nerves, I would have found it amusing that Hugo had chosen Alice as my pseudonym.  I’d told him of my love of
Alice in Wonderland
as a child and how I’d felt as if I went down the rabbit hole when I wound up in the seventeenth century.  Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten.

“Who do we have the honor of addressing?” Hugo asked, his voice deferential.

“I’m Captain Norrington of His Majesty’s army,” the man replied, failing to introduce his companion.

Hugo gave a nod of acknowledgment, his head tipped to the side as if waiting for the man to state his business. 

“We’ve been informed that a woman known to be Lord Hugo Everly’s mistress was seen this evening in the vicinity of Everly Manor.  State your name, madam,” he ordered, addressing me.

“Mrs. Alice Tully, sir, as my husband just told you,” I replied rather more saucily than I should have, but I was annoyed with the man.  He was so pompous and sure of himself. 

“And do you happen to know Lord Everly, madam?”

“No, sir.  Whoever informed you that I might was mistaken.  May I ask who summoned you?” I asked, despite Hugo’s look of warning.

“A maid from the manor came running into the village earlier, claiming to have seen a woman known in these parts as Mistress Neve Ashley,” the captain replied, his gaze never leaving my face.

“Well, she was mistaken,” Hugo cut in.  “This woman is my wife and has been for the past seven years.”

“And where are you bound, Mr. Tully, at this hour?” Captain Norrington asked.

“We are bound for the next village, Captain, where we will seek shelter for the night,” Hugo replied smoothly.  “My wife is tired, so if there’s nothing else, we’ll be on our way.”

“Goodnight to you both,” Captain Norrington replied and turned his horse around.  “You shouldn’t be on the road at this hour.  It isn’t safe, Mr. Tully.  I suggest you find lodging as soon as possible.  There’s an inn about a mile down the road, I hope you will avail yourself of the accommodation.”

“Thank you for your concern, Captain.  We will most certainly do so.”

Hugo watched as the two soldiers trotted away from us in the direction of Cranley, then gave me a wide smile and dug his heels into the flanks of his horse. 

“Just a little while longer, my sweet Alice,” he said.  “Like the man said, there’s an inn just down the road.”

I tried to reply, but my hands shook violently as I tried to spur on my horse.  I knew the risks, but I hadn’t expected to come face to face with soldiers so soon after coming back.

“It’s all right, Neve,” Hugo said gently.  “Everything is all right and we can be on our way now.”

“How in the world did they find out so quickly?” I asked, needing to rationalize what had just happened.

“Liza must have run to the village and informed them,” Hugo replied casually.  “Damn her eyes.”

“Why would she do that?”  I couldn’t imagine why a loyal servant would run all the way to the village with night coming on to inform the soldiers of Hugo’s possible presence.  What was in it for her?

“I assume there’s a monetary reward for any information leading to my capture,” Hugo suggested, unperturbed.  “Liza always was an ambitious girl.”

“How well did you know her?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.  Did Liza have any motive besides the monetary one?  Of course, a monetary reward, no matter how insubstantial would equal Liza’s yearly pay, if not more, so to her it would seem like a fortune.  That would motivate any a poor girl, especially if she had aspirations of leaving the service.

“I know her well enough to know she can’t be trusted.  Now, come on.”

I was still pondering Liza’s motives as my head sank onto the lumpy pillow, and my body tried to get comfortable on the straw mattress provided by the inn.  It was better than wondering if anything crawly might be sharing the mattress with me.  Hugo sat in the chair by the window, a faraway expression on his face. 

“Hugo?”

“Hmm?  Does Liza have any reason to despise you?” I asked.  Hugo might have answered, but I didn’t hear what he said since I was already asleep. 

By the time I woke up, the sun was shining through the little window set high in the wall; the air in the room close and warm.  Dust motes swirled in the golden shaft of light which culminated in the not-so-clean floor.  I could hear sounds coming from the yard below: men talking loudly, horses neighing, water pouring as someone drew a bucket from the well and likely filled the trough.  I wanted to get up, but every molecule of my being begged to stay in bed.  It’d been a long time since I sat a horse, and I was achy and tired. 
If Hugo hadn’t woken me then there was no rush,
I thought and closed my eyes again. 

Suddenly, a tremor of fear passed through me.  Hugo.  Where was he?  What if he had been arrested while I slept?  I shot out of bed and grabbed my clothes, ready to get dressed and run downstairs, but I was forestalled by a knock on the door and Hugo’s smiling face as he entered the room and set down a wooden tray on the scarred table. 

“Where’ve you been?” I shrieked.  “I thought something awful happened to you.” 

Hugo just pulled me into his arms and gave me a reassuring hug.  “I didn’t see any reason to wake you, since we’ve already had our encounter with the soldiers, so I went out to find you some breakfast.  I didn’t think you’d want ale and hard biscuit, so I went to the nearest farm and bought some fresh milk, bread and butter.  Come and eat something.  We have a long day ahead of us.”

I allowed myself to be led to the table where Hugo buttered a thick slice of bread for me and poured me a cup of milk.  “Thank you,” I said through a mouthful of bread.  “That was very sweet.”

“When you said you couldn’t have anything alcoholic and needed to eat well for the babe, I was paying attention,” Hugo said, pretending to be affronted. 

“I’m glad.  I was starving.  When are we leaving?”

“As soon as you’re ready.  I hoped to get to Portsmouth before noon, but since we’ve been delayed we have to get there before they close the gates at nightfall.”

I nodded and took a sip of milk.  Hugo sounded calm and confident, but my insides were jumping.  We were literally heading into the lion’s den.  Portsmouth was the home of the Royal Navy, a town crawling with military presence where someone could recognize Hugo despite his elaborate disguise.  I had no idea how long it might take to find a ship to carry us to France, but I hoped it would take days rather than weeks.

I watched Hugo as he trimmed his beard in front of the tiny cracked mirror on the wall.  I had to admit that he looked very different even to me.  Hugo’s eyes were a vibrant blue, the lenses hiding his own dark eyes, and his thick mane was a honey-blond any girl would envy.  There were moments when he looked like a stranger even to my own eyes, but the disguise would last for only a few weeks before Hugo’s natural dark hair began to show.  It’d be easy enough to shave off the beard, but the roots in his hair would be harder to hide.  The sooner we got to Portsmouth and found a ship, the safer we’d be.

I finished my breakfast, collected our belongings and pulled my linen cap over my curls.  “Let’s go,” I said, suddenly feeling more confident.  “Today is the day we get to Portsmouth.”

“It certainly is,” Hugo agreed and took the satchel from me.