A Stolen Season (18 page)

“Answer the damn question,” his voice deadly and brooking no argument.

“I cannot,” she said.

Eric towered over her, his face close to hers as he gripped her arms only a slight squeeze away from painful. “You will if you want to live, Miss Baxter.”

She cringed and the truth tumbled out, the words falling over each other. “I’m an archaeologist by trade. We were excavating the area, and I left the mapping device behind. It was a silly mistake. From what our reports told us, your brother had found it. I returned to take it back and made an even bigger mess of things. My father demanded I try again, and so you see, here I am.”

“Yes, here you are,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth. “What sort of idiot do you think I am, Miss Baxter? Archaeologist? There are no women archaeologists. And certainly not ones digging about with strange peculiars like this.” He gestured to his pocket.

“Not from your time, perhaps,” she said, looking anywhere but in his eyes.

“What?”

It was too late to save herself now. “Richard is not my brother. He is my father’s head archaeologist. My family owns a company called TimeArch, and we specialize in time travel.”

Eric didn’t try to hide his disbelief at the fantastical tale.

“We own a home just out of London, near Reading.”

Eric frowned. “There are no Stanleys in Berkshire.”

“Not in this time, my lord,” Sarah emphasized.

Eric took a deep breath and pinned her with his gaze.

“Did you never wonder at how I just appeared in society? Almost like magic and out of thin air.” Sarah gestured at him. “Your mother can find no mention of our births here in England or abroad. Why do you think that is?”

Eric glared at her. “Because you, madam, are a very fine actress.”

She shook her head. “No actress, just not from your time, Eric.” She turned again to head into the maze, praying to hide her shame, lose her entire self, in its twists and turns.

She took only two steps before his commanding voice rolled over her. “What does the device do?”

She held out her hand, signaling for the object. Shockingly, he drew it from his coat and slapped it in her palm. He watched amazed as she flicked a hidden latch and it opened, revealing a multitude of button-like objects. She swiped her finger across the screen and the device lit up like a candle. Eric snatched it back, only to toss it to the ground.

“How does it work?” he asked.

Sarah picked it up and typed in her passcode. She handed it back and grudgingly he took it. “If you read the screen it’s probably saying that no satellite signal can be found. Which of course is right, as in 1818 there are no satellites in space. But the device would normally locate you, where ever you were in the world and map any area you wish.”

“You played me, used me to your own ends.” He threw the device and Sarah caught it. “Well, you got what you wanted now, and a good tumble while you were here. Take the damn thing. I never want to see it or you again.”

No, she wasn’t going to leave the argument there.

“I did intend to use you at the beginning to gain access to the device, but it certainly is not how it ended. I couldn’t care less about the device, Eric. I only care about you.”

Eric scoffed and stepped away. “How many men have you fucked to get your way, Miss Baxter?” He laughed, the sound chilling Sarah’s blood. “You were never a virgin, were you? I should have known … you were very apt in your lovemaking.”

She swiped at a tear. The look of disgust on Eric’s face left her hollow and ashamed. How he must hate her to say such things.

“How many men have you slept with, madam?”

She swallowed. “Eric … ”

“Answer me now, God damn it,” he yelled.

“No.”

Eric fisted his hands and tried several times to speak before the words finally came out, hard as a slap across her soul. “The innkeeper. That’s why he recognized you. You
were
the one.” Eric clasped the sleeve of her dress and ripped it off. He stepped back, reeling at the scar that marked her arm. “The sight of you and what we did together sickens me, Miss Baxter. You have until tomorrow morn to get off my land, or I’ll throw the full force of the law at your pretty head. Now, go. I never want to see you again.”

Sarah slumped down on the suede lounge in her father’s house and flicked on the TV. A re-run of
Oprah
discussing lost loves, of all things. She flicked the channel over to the news and stared unseeing at that instead.

It had been forty-five days since she had left Eric, and she was keenly aware of every sixty-four-thousand-eight-hundred minutes of them as they ticked away. She flicked a switch on the phone beside the lounge and welcomed the dark as the blinds started to close.

She shut her eyes and pictured Eric. In the quiet, she could almost feel and hear him again.

The lounge door opened, severing her memories.

“Sit up, Sarah.” Her father walked into the room and sat down across from her. He stared with an unreadable expression on his face, then sighed.

“What’s the matter, Father? Has something happened? Is everything okay at TimeArch?” Her father’s continued silence was unnerving, and nerves formed in her stomach.

“Get dressed and put on some shoes. I have to take you somewhere.” He paused, his face strained. “We need to talk.”

Sarah watched him stroll outside and then quickly did as she was asked. On the way out the front door she caught a glimpse of her reflection and stopped.

There were dark rings beneath her eyes and her hair needed washing. She’d lost weight, too, her clothes hanging off her frame.

Self disgust at her self pity made her cringe. She shouldn’t do this to herself or her family. Sarah grabbed her bag and walked out to the company vehicle parked in the drive, buckling her place in the passenger seat.

But her fragile composure started to fray as the southern roads became all too familiar. Towns she had passed through in a horse and carriage zoomed past her window. Through the passage of one hundred and ninety four years, their trades and storefronts had changed, and her stomach tightened into a ball of homesick knots.

Why would her father be cruel enough to drive her to Westerham? Just as Sarah suspected, the car turned and continued toward another even more familiar location. Why in God’s name would her father be taking her to Eric’s ancestral home? How was she to summon the courage to walk through those doors? Her smiling, charismatic, caring, wonderful man would not come out to greet her this day. Her tears fell unchecked until her father, silently acknowledging her grief, passed her his hankie. She didn’t feel any better for it.

The car pulled up in the Earnston Estate driveway, and Sarah’s gaze moved over the house and land as she stepped from the vehicle. Not much had changed over the passing years.

Oh, the trees were bigger, of course. There were obviously different plants in the garden beds surrounding the home, but the building was much as she knew it. Handsome and welcoming, just like its fifth earl. The maze where she had stood, pouring out her heart in vain, was still there, too.

Grief as severe as she’d ever known it tore at her heart. She missed him.

What was she doing here without him? Wiping her eyes, she tried to gain some semblance of control. She really could not mourn like this forever, could she? Probably yes, she conceded. At this present moment in time, she couldn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel, and it was looking to be a bloody long tunnel.

As she followed her father up the front steps, she walked through the home’s grand oak doors and scanned the foyer. Everything was almost as it was when she left it. The wallpaper was slightly aged, and the carpet looked a little the worse for wear but otherwise, everything was frighteningly familiar.

Her heart squeezed. This beloved house was so familiar and comforting to her soul. A small smile lifted her lips as she found her feet silently moving toward the library.

Ignoring her father’s banter with the tour guide, she opened the doors. The library was unchanged. The chairs were in their same positions before the hearth, which dominated the centre of the room. Eric’s desk still stood proud in front of the windows. She walked up to it, running her hand over the leathered top. She could almost imagine Eric sitting behind his desk, looking up at her when she entered, bestowing that lovable, mischievous grin she adored so much.

She frowned down at the golden quill — the very one she had used to write the letter she’d left for him. A letter where she had begged for forgiveness and apologized for all her wrong doings. The family seal lay dry, with a slight film of dust. She picked it up, craving to hold anything she knew Eric had used numerous times. It was all so confusing and painful.

And why was there no family living here? What had happened to Eric? She chastised herself for wallowing in self-pity instead of finding out what had become of him and his family. Still clasping the blotter so hard her knuckles were white from her tight hold, she looked up at her father as he entered the room.

“What the hell is going on? Why did you bring me here when you knew what I’ve been going through these past weeks?” Sarah put down her precious link with Eric and leaned against the desk for support. “Where is his family? Why is there no earl in residence? This place looks like a shrine,” she all but shouted, her voice wobbling alarmingly. She clapped her hand over her mouth knowing she was near hysterical. “Please tell me what has happened, I need to know.”

Her father held up his hand to stop the multitude of questions. “I’m sorry, darling, for bringing you here. I thought it might be hard for you but I needed to see for myself how the memories would affect you.”

Sarah frowned and looked across at him, thoroughly confused.

“I have to apologize if I’ve been angry at you of late. Some very big changes occurred while you were away. I didn’t want to do this, Sarah, and you must know it breaks my heart to see you like this.”

“Couldn’t you have told me this at the office or home?” The tears blurred her vision, almost completely distorting her father from her vision. She heard him walk toward her, before he took her in his arms, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“Hush now, Sarah. I need to show you something. I’ve booked the estate today so we won’t be interrupted. Come, sit down and I’ll explain.”

They sat in the leather chairs facing the unlit hearth. It was the most bizarre thing Sarah had ever done. It was as if she could still smell Eric’s scent within the room. She blew her nose while waiting for her father to begin.

“I’ve been angry because although I don’t know what exactly happened to you in 1818, I most certainly know the basic facts. I know how attached you and Lord Earnston became. And if family letters I’ve read are any indication, he was on the verge of proposing. To be frank, I was extremely furious at your lack of restraint and unethical work practices while you were away.” He looked away, staring into space.

“But,” he sighed, “I understand what happens when you fall in love. And I cannot for the life of me criticize you for what I have always tried to instill in you.”

When lightning strikes you should always follow your heart, not your head.

She’d heard the words a thousand times.

“So I can’t now, after twenty-four years, turn around and change my mind. No matter what the company rules are,” he said, chuckling wryly. “Do you forgive your Dad?”

What was to forgive? Reaching across, she clasped his hands in hers. “Of course I do, always, you know that.”

He squeezed hers in response. “Research has brought to light some very important circumstances for this family, which occurred not long after you left. Some of these are new to history, thanks to your trip,” he said, pointedly raising an eyebrow. “And all of them you need to know about, no matter how painful.” He sat back in his chair, his gaze never wavering.

Sarah sat silent, as apprehension settled over her. Wound up as tight as a spring, her hands started to sweat.

“Lord Earnston married a woman named Lady Patricia Meyers not long after you left. Within two months of the marriage, both the new countess and his mother, the dowager countess, were killed in a carriage accident just north of here.”

Poor Eric, he had lost her, then two members of his immediate family. And she had not been there for him. She may never have been on good terms with either woman, but she wished death upon no one. Eric’s mother would not have been fifty-five, she mused, and as for Patricia, she was younger than Sarah herself was now.

“From paper records, family letters, and so on, I gather Eric lived fairly hard and fast for many years. He never remarried, gambled heavily for a time but pulled himself out of that, which was something, I suppose.”

Sarah half smiled at her father’s distaste over gamblers and their wicked ways, or whatever he thought. Sarah, however, put Eric’s hard and fast living down to his grief.

“He wasn’t seen much in society after 1819 and pretty much kept to himself. He passed away in his sleep in the autumn of 1878.”

Sarah wiped her eyes, sniffing. “So Eric is buried here on the family estate?”

“Yes he’s buried here, and it’s where we’re going next. There’s something you need to see.” He looked across to her in concern. “Are you up to it, darling?”

Was she? “Of course,” she assured, but really was not at all. Sarah felt slightly light-headed.

They made their way toward the family mausoleum on the northern hill behind the estate. It was a beautiful final resting place, overlooking the family’s land.

The groundskeeper dislodged years of dust as he unlocked and opened the old creaking steel doors. He lit the candles in the circular building, casting light on all the family headstones that lined the walls.

Sarah walked over and started to read the epitaphs. Lady Patricia’s grave identified her as the Countess of Earnston. Wiping her eyes, Sarah now comprehended just how much time had passed. It was so final.

A shiver stole over her, and walking on she found Eric’s grandmother’s grave. Her heart broke at the sight of it. Sarah read that she had “left this world in the year of our Lord 1828,” ten short years after Sarah’s own parting. Her father’s voice cut strong and loud across the silent room, and Sarah pulled her thoughts back from the past.