Timekeeper (15 page)

I reach out my hand. “Please. Can I read it?”

“Irving! I told you it’s for members only.”

“We’re to be married, though, aren’t we? And husband and wife share everything.” As the words leave my mouth, I suddenly hate myself for getting extricated in such an unholy engagement. But I can’t help it. I’m desperate to see the future.

“Perhaps when we’re married, you can join the Time Society too,” Rebecca offers, tucking the book close to her. “But until then, I’d better not go against Millicent’s wishes.”

I look at Rebecca with narrowed eyes. It’s typical of her to brag about something she has, only to guard it jealously. And then it occurs to me that Rebecca
never
takes orders from anyone; in fact, she detests authority. Her poor mother had a nightmare of a time trying to discipline her, and gave up in the end. It just isn’t in Rebecca’s character to follow the rules of this Time Society. I know in that moment—there has to be more to the story.

I descend the grand staircase alone, having just managed to wriggle out of Rebecca’s suffocating goodbye embrace. As I reach the bottom step, my hair mussed and face still fixed in a grimace, I fail to notice Rupert at the foot of the stairs until the butler clears his throat.

“Oh—hello, Rupert. I’m just about to go into town to catch a train back.”

“You’re planning to return here often, aren’t you?” Rupert gives me a knowing look. “Even after graduation.”

“What do you mean?” I ask sharply. Does he
know
?

“I mean that Miss Rebecca always gets her way,” Rupert says pointedly. “As your friend, I had hoped for a better sort of girl for you—though I can understand your reasoning for being with her. But if you are going to be living in the Windsor Mansion, there is something in this house that I feel I ought to show you. You might find it gives you an escape when you need one.”

Rupert moves in the direction of the library, and I shuffle behind him. My face burns with shame as I realize he must somehow know that I plan to marry Rebecca and clearly don’t love her. He must think I’m doing it for the money and status, and the thought makes me cringe with disgust. If only I could tell Rupert the truth!

We quickly reach the library, my favorite room in the new Windsor Mansion, with its floor-to-ceiling shelves and glass-enclosed cases filled with books upon books. Prized artwork and regal furniture also decorate the library, but I only have eyes for the hundreds of leather-bound tomes.

Rupert gives the room a careful once-over, then moves toward one of the glass bookcases at the back of the library. To
my surprise, the always-polite butler pushes his hands against the bookcase rather roughly, as if trying to move it!

“What are you doing?” I ask, bewildered. “You’ll break—”

I stop mid-sentence, my mouth hanging open as the bookcase mechanically swerves to the side, revealing a vast empty space that resembles a tunnel. I step closer and see that it is a tunnel built of gray stone and brick, and just high enough to stand upright in.

“What
is
this?” I exclaim.

Just as quickly as he opened the passageway Rupert closes it, nervously glancing at the front door of the library as he pushes the bookcase back in place. “It’s a secret passage that leads to the back lawn of the house. For a space consisting of mere stone and brick, with no heat or decoration, it is a surprisingly comfortable place to get away for a bit.” Rupert smiles, and then his expression turns serious. “No one else knows about it, especially not the family, so I must ask that you keep this a secret. I’m sharing it with you because I feel you might need it one day. Miss Rebecca is rather vile to all the staff here, and while she is enamored with you now … you don’t know if one day she might become cruel to you too.”

I lower my eyes. “It’s not what you think. I—I’m not—I mean, I might not—” I stammer, before Rupert interrupts me.

“You don’t need to explain,” he says kindly. “You’re eighteen years old and you want a better life. I understand.”

For a moment, I’m ready to blurt out the truth. After all, Rupert just shared a secret with me. But then I imagine his reaction, the way he would likely panic and think I’ve gone insane. After all, without Rebecca’s cooperation, I have no proof.

Suddenly, a question occurs to me. “Rupert, if the family doesn’t know about this passageway … how do you?”

“It was the architect’s secret. He loved putting his own private stamp on the homes he built, adding things to the house plans to show that it was
his
creation, despite whoever might own it. I was charged with supervising the building of this place while the Windsors were all staying at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. That’s why, aside from the construction crew and now you, I’m the only one who knows about the architect’s secret addition. The crew never saw or spoke to the Windsors; I’m the only one who could have told them. When the architect asked if I planned to tell, I knew instantly that I wouldn’t.” He looks at me guiltily. “I suppose that makes me an inferior butler, but I needed this. You see … I have a lady too, and here is the only place where we can be together.” He drops his eyes, and I bite back a smile. I
always
had a feeling there was something between him and Rebecca’s pretty French maid!

“I understand.” I place my hand on Rupert’s shoulder, about to say more, when a vision fills my mind, so powerful that it brings a searing headache along with it.

I’m standing in the middle of the secret passageway, waiting for someone. My palms are sweaty, my stomach jittery, and yet I am happier than I have ever been before. I look down, carefully examining my clothes. I hope that I look all right in this strange outfit of blue trousers and a cotton shirt bearing the block-lettered words “New York Giants 1991.” I chuckle at the thought that over a hundred years in the future, the fashion is to look plainer than the poor of my day
.

Suddenly I hear the scraping sound of the bookcase being pushed to
the side. My heart lifts, and I try in vain to control the smile spreading across my face. She is here
.

“Irving? What’s happening? Are you all right?”

I snap back into focus as Rupert shakes my shoulders frantically.

“I’m fine,” I gasp. “I just had a—an awful cramp in my leg. It’s gone now.” I look toward the secret passageway in awe. My heartbeat picks up speed as I realize that it’s
going to happen
. I
really
am going into the future, and not just to 1919 like Rebecca—I’m going to travel more than a hundred years!

“Thank you for sharing this,” I tell Rupert. “I have a feeling that I will need a secret passageway. Thank you.”

As we leave the library, my mind races with one question: Who is the girl in my vision—the girl I will be waiting for in 1991?

February 2, 1888

I awake at six a.m. on the morning of February the second a far different person than I will be by the end of it. My eyes open upon my familiar, small, and stark dormitory room at Cornell University. I dress quickly, and then hurry to the washroom to shave before my first class. When I return a few minutes later, I see a
woman
sitting at my desk, watching the door, waiting for me.

I stare at her, stunned. Girls are strictly forbidden in the boys’ dormitories—how had she made it past the warden? And this is no girl, but a woman, who looks foreign and ethereal, with waist-length silver hair and penetrating green eyes. She smiles at me.

“Irving Henry. I’ve wondered for a while when I might get to meet you.”

I glance nervously from her to the door, and after a moment’s hesitation, I close it behind me. I have to know who this woman is—but I can’t risk any of my schoolmates seeing her.

“Who are you?” I demand. “What do you mean by this, breaking into my room?”

“Oh, I didn’t break in,” she says calmly. “Your door was open.”

“How do you know my name? And, I repeat—
who are you
?” I stand with my back against the door, close enough to make a quick getaway if the woman turns out to be, as I suspect, certifiably mad.

“My name is Millicent August. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.” She gives me a perceptive look as she holds out her hand.

My jaw drops. “Millicent August? The founder of the Time Society?”

“That’s the one.”

“What do you want with
me
? Is this about Rebecca?” I ask, perplexed.

“I’m here about both of you,” Millicent says softly. “You see, there are some things that don’t add up about Rebecca’s circumstances. For instance, did she tell you
how
she is able to travel into the future? Did she tell you that time travel is an inherited gift?”

“No.” I look at Millicent with wonder. “She said she was chosen for the power—that there is a Time Travel Gene and she was born with it.”

Millicent chuckles quietly. “Of course. That is what she wants you to believe.”

Now Millicent has my complete attention.

“What are you saying?”

“It’s true that there is a Time Travel Gene, and it runs in families. But it’s not quite so simple. People don’t suddenly wake up one day and are able to visit the past or the future out of nowhere,” she said in an admonishing tone, as if I were the one who suggested such a thing. “There is a device. A key.”

“Rebecca didn’t say anything about a key,” I say, confused.

“No, she withheld that from you, and I believe I know why. Let me explain to you how time travel, and our society, works.” She gestures for me to have a seat.

“The Time Society is a clandestine organization of time travelers. We call ourselves Timekeepers. Over the past century we have learned that the power to travel through time runs in a family’s blood. This is what we mean by the Time Travel Gene,” Millicent divulges. “But we are all marked by a physical key, called the Key of the Nile. This key is always given by the Timekeeper to one of their kin before they die. Thus, time travel is not something you are simply born with, as Rebecca said, but rather an inherited gift.

“Now, every single member of the Time Society is related by birth to another Timekeeper, which explains how we receive our keys. So you can imagine my surprise when our Detectors informed me of a new time traveler in our midst, Rebecca Windsor. You see, no one from her family has ever been in the Society. But there
was
someone else who lived in her house,
who was a registered Timekeeper. Someone whose kin I was expecting.” Millicent pauses. “The Timekeeper’s name was Byron Henry.”

For a moment I think my heart must have stopped beating. When I finally find my voice, it is barely a whisper.

“You’re mistaken—that’s impossible! My father was the most blessedly normal man you could imagine. There’s no way he could have been—he would have told me—” I break off, my mind racing at a dizzying speed as I suddenly remember the portion of my father’s will that no one had understood.
“Equally if not more important than the funds for Irving’s university education, is the key that I leave for him …”

“I know how close you and your father were,” Millicent says kindly. “But you were too young to be told. One of the strongest guidelines we abide by in the Time Society is keeping our powers secret until we’re nearing the end of our lives. Then we may tell the person who is to inherit the key. Of course, most of us cannot predict when we will die, which is why the last will and testament is crucial to our Society.”

I wipe my brow, perspiring from all this astonishing news, as Millicent continues.

“I hadn’t heard from Byron in a long while, but I never assumed he’d died. Some of our members can go for years without being in contact with us. But my suspicions were aroused when I heard about Rebecca and confirmed when I went to see her and found that the Windsor butler was no longer Byron Henry.” She leans forward. “I am convinced that Rebecca stole the key from your father when he died.”

I feel myself recoil. “But—but she is my friend. She wants
us to be married! I wouldn’t put it past her to do something horrible, but not toward me. She knows how much I loved my father. She
couldn’t
have stolen from him.”