The Hands of Time (3 page)

What was going on?  One minute I was in the shop looking at the cupid clock
,
and now I was lying in a meadow not too far from the castle
;
that up until five
minutes
ago was just a sad ruin.  I looked at my watch.  It was 4:10pm.  Only five
minutes
had passed since I turned the hands on the ormolu clock.  How did I get here?  I looked around again.  In relation to the river and the castle
,
I was sitting in about the spot where the shop would have been, except there was no shop and no street.  I could see some fishermen’s huts off in the distance
,
where there were holiday cottages just a few
minutes
ago.  I closed my eyes, shook my head and opened them again.  I was still in the same spot.  Reluctantly
,
I got to my feet and looked around again. 

There didn’t seem anywhere to go except in the direction of the castle.  I had no idea what I would do when I got there, but at least it was something to do.  My purse was nowhere in sight
, so
I just dusted myself off and began to walk up the hill, my mind spinning out of control.  I had no idea what to think
,
and try as I might
,
I couldn’t find a logical explanation for what
just
happened.  People didn’t just faint and wake up in a different place and a different time, if that’s what it was.  Maybe I was still asleep and I was dreaming all of this.  I pinched myself hard and yelped
,
acknowledging my state of
wakefulness
.  Not asleep then.

As I got closer to the castle I became more and more anxious.  What was I to do once I got there?  What could I say
to whoever
was there?  What if they turned me away?  Where would I go then?  There seemed nothing in the vicinity except a few derelict huts and two fishing boats. 
I took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy, studded door walking into the yard.  I was immediately spotted by two large dogs
,
who bounded over to me and started barking madly
,
nipping at my feet.  I stepped back involuntarily
,
and found myself
bumping into a man
who
I didn’t realize
had come
up just behind me.  He caught me by the arms and steadied me before yelling at the dogs.

“
S
hut ye traps, ye fiends.  Can’t y
e
see it’s a lady come to call?  Away with y
e
, then.”  The dogs seemed to accept this command and slinked off
,
leaving me with the man.  He was wearing a
leather doublet in a muddy shade of brown
,
that could use a good cleaning as it was covered with dust and bits of straw
,
and his dark pants were tucked into boots covered with muck.  The man’s hair was pulled back into a messy tail
,
and an old hat
perched
on his head.  He looked like something out of a period movie
,
and I suddenly realized that he was just as curious about my attire as I was about his.  I was wearing a sleeveless summer dress in the lightest shade of lilac with a pair of tan leather sandals.  The man gaped at me and turned away
embarrassed
.

“Are ye here to see the
M
aster?” 
h
e
asked without really looking at me.

“I
guess
so.”  I answered his back as he walke
d
toward the
castle
implying that I should follow. 

The man opened a wooden door and led me up a flight of stairs to the second floor
,
where he called out for someone named Betty.  A plump young woman dressed in a long dress with an apron over it and a cap over her dark, curly hair
,
came out of a room and froze at the sight of me
, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water
.

“This young lady is here to see the Master.  Will y
e
inform him he has a visitor?”  The girl mutely nodded and
disappeared
through another door leaving me with the man.

“I am John
Dobbs, the overseer,” he informed me
,
tipping his hat before turning on his heel and leaving me to await the Master, whoever he was.  I tried to take deep breaths in order to calm myself, but found myself shaking like a leaf by the time Betty came back into the hall and gave me a little curtsey.

“If y
e
would follow me,
Miss
.  The Master will see y
e
in the library.”  She led me through a few well
-
appointed rooms
,
before
opening the door to what must have been the library and motioning me inside.  She didn
’
t go in after me
,
and I walked in toward the man sitting in an armchair with his feet propped up on the empty grate and a book in his hands.  He turned at the sound of my footsteps and rose, putting down the book on top of the mant
e
l of the unlit marble fireplace.  He was tall and broad
-
shouldered, dressed in dark pants tucked into a pair of riding boots, a white linen shirt and a
velvet doublet in rich brown
.  His coat was slung over a nearby chair
,
and he reached for it as I walked in
,
about to put in on, but
became
distracted by my appearance.  He let the coat fall back
o
nto the back of the chair and looked me up and down discreetly.

“Alexander Whitfield at your service, Madame.”  He gave a slight bow of his head and looked at me expectantly.

“Valerie Crane,” I said simply.  We stood in silence for a few moments just taking stock of each other.  If I wasn’t so scared
,
I would have noticed that he was very handsome
,
in a period movie kind of way
,
with dark hair that fell to his shoulders and eyes the color of caramel, accentuated by his long lashes.  His full lips stretched into something resembling a
welcoming
smile.

“How can I help you,
Mistress
Crane?”

I was about to say something as a way of explanation, but I suddenly burst into tears
,
overcome by my fear and confusion.  The man instantly sprang into action, leading me to a comfortable chair, pouring me brandy from a crystal decanter and offering me his handkerchief. 

“I am terribly sorry.  I did not mean to upset you.  Are you all right?”

I nodded miserably, taking a large gulp of the brandy
,
and letting it warm its way down my gullet before trying to speak again.

“I
’
m sorry, Mr. Whitfield.  I have no idea how I got here. 
I found myself in the meadow at the bottom of the hill and
saw your home
.  I
thought
I
’
d come here and
ask for help.”  I realized at that moment that pretending I had no idea what happened would probably be safer, not that I actually did have any idea.  All I could do was hope that he was a gentleman and wouldn
’
t just turn me away. 

He looked at me
,
and I could see a hundred questions racing through his mind, but he didn’t ask any of them.  “I will do everything in my power to assist you.  You can stay here for as long as you like.  I will ask Betty to find you
a suitable gown and show you to your room.  I think you can do with a rest.”  He looked at me waiting for me to agree and then called out to Betty, who appeared about half a second later confirming my suspicions that she
had been
listening at the door.

“Betty, please find a gown for
Mistress
Crane, I think one of Rose’s will do nicely, and show her to the yellow room. 
Mistress
Crane would like to rest.  And bring her some refreshment
,
” he
added as an afterthought and
turned to me
, giving
me an encouraging smile. 
“I am afraid I am expecting a dinner guest tonight for a private meeting,” he informed me apologetically, “Have some rest and we
will
talk more tomorrow. 
Please let Betty know if there is anything you require.”  I thanked him and followed Betty out of the library toward the stairs to
the upper
floor.  I could see that she was burning with curiosity, but she didn’t ask anything, just led me up the stairs and down the carpeted hallway to a door at
the very end.  She opened the door for me to enter and turned to leave.

“I will be back shortly,
Miss
,
with some garments
,
and I will bring hot water should y
e
wish to wash.”  She
curtsied
again and left me alone in
the room
.  I sat down on the four-poster bed and took in my surroundings.  The room was done in shades of saffron and cr
eam
with a matching coverlet, bed hangings and drapes at the two windows.  Being a corner room, one window looked out over the yard and the road leading to the castle
,
and the other over woods and the distant river
, sparkling in the late afternoon sun
.  There was a painting of a
beautiful
woman
with eyes the same color as Alexander Whitfield
, her arms around a pink-cheeked young boy
,
hanging over the dresser,
but otherwise there were no personal objects in the room.  It must have been reserved for guests. 

The
re
was a quick knock at the door before Betty came in, a gown slung over her arm and a pitcher of water in her right hand.  She set th
e pitcher on a table by the bed next to the
painted ewer
,
then la
y
the gown on the bed along with some other garments.

“I do hope y
e
like these,” she said showing me what she brought.  “Here is a
chemise, a
petticoat
and I thought this gown might suit y
e
.  There is also a
nightdress
.”  She reached into the pocke
t
of her apron and drew out a handful of pins.  “I brought these so y
e
can dress y
e
r hair.  Do y
e
require help dressing?” 

“Thank you
, Betty
, I think I can manage.”

“All right, then.  I will ask Cook to send up a tray for y
e
at supper time.  If y
e
need me, just pull this rope.”  She showed me the
thick cord
by the bed and turned to leave, but couldn’t stop herself from asking at least one question.  “Were y
e
accosted on the road
, Miss
?” 
s
he
whispered looking at my summer dress.  She assumed that someone had torn off my gown
and left me in my underclothes
. 

“I can’t recall.”  Betty nodded her head as if I confirmed her worst suspicions.  She
believed that
I must have been through some terrible trauma to show up in a state of undress
,
and with no recollection of
what happened
,
and
gave me a sympathetic look
, closing
the door behind her.

I decided to try and concentrate on more practical things rather th
a
n dwelling on my predicament
,
and
poured some water into the ewer
,
washing
my face and hands before trying to figure out how to put on the gown.  I took off my dress, but defi
a
ntly left my bra and underwear on
,
before pulling the chemise over my head.  It felt soft and light against my skin and I
picked
up the
petticoat
.  I assumed it went on under the skirt, so I put it on and looked in the mirror.  I was beginning to resemble the Dresden
shepherdess
I saw in the shop.  I
carefully
put on the gown over my head and
tied
the laces of the bodice.  The dress was the color of bluebells and brought out the color of my eyes.  I picked up my hair and held it up
,
examining my image
in the oval cheval glass
.  I looked like a completely different person.  Maybe I was.  I let down my hair and sat back down on the bed feeling lonelier than I ever had, even after Michael left me.  What was I supposed to do now?