An Untimely Romance: A Time Travel Romance (19 page)

Heather could just
about make out the old woman shaking her head in disgust.

“Someone with your low
standing in society will never, I repeat never, carry on my family name. It
would be an utter disgrace.”

“Lady Haunchwood, you don’t
understand. I love him, I love Frankie so very much.”

“How dare you address
my nephew so informally!” Her voice again was raised in anger. “I will not
yield, young lady; now go, leave me. I have said what I must. You are not
invited to the masquerade, and you are no longer welcome in my home.”

Heather didn’t excuse
herself and simply stormed out, slamming the door behind her. She was greeted
by Anna smiling up at her, coincidently the first and only time she had seen
her do so.

“You bitch! It was you,
wasn’t it? You told her! Were you watching us last night? Tell me!” She grabbed
Anna, shaking her roughly by the shoulders.

Mr Clements, happening
only to be a few doors down, rushed over.

“Please, miss, I beg of
you, let her go. Let me escort you back to your room. It is obvious you are
very upset, but whatever she has done, I will deal with her later.”

Heather breathed
deeply, her fists clenched, holding back the tears.
Why? What have I ever
done to her?
Her mind was raging, feelings of hatred possessing her, but
she knew she’d done nothing and only ever been polite.
You won’t get away
with this. You may laugh now, but I assure you, it is not an expression you
shall wear for long.
Upon reaching her bedroom, Mr Clements bowed,
dismissing himself.

“I’d watch that Anna
doesn’t go to the masquerade tonight, and if she does, that she keeps clear of
Mr Boswel. I’d keep a close eye on both of them if I were you.”

“Anna, at the
masquerade?” he laughed, walking away.

Where am I to go
now, and what about Frank?
Her head spinning, she
walked into the bedroom and leant against the door, closing her eyes. This was
all turning into some kind of horrific nightmare.

“Miss Richardson.”

A voice startled her
from her thoughts.

Frank continued. “I
know this is very improper of me to do so, but I must speak with you before my
aunt learns of my return.” He paused, concern in his eyes. “Miss Richardson,
you are upset; are you quite well?” he asked in a sympathetic manner, taking
her hand.

Pulling her hand from
his, she replied, “Yes, I am very well.” Her answer was sharp and to the point.

“Well then, I have
something I must ask of you. Dearest Heather, could you find it in your heart
to be my wife? My feelings towards you are unquestionable. On your acceptance,
I would very much like to make an announcement about our forthcoming nuptials
at the masquerade this evening.”

These were the words
she had so longed to hear, but she loved Frank and Florence far too much to see
them disinherited, losing everything due to her own selfishness. The only kind
thing left to do was walk away.

“No, Mr Boswel, I
cannot accept,” she said, breathing deeply. “I don’t love you.” Breaking out in
a cold sweat she watched his face drop, and with it her heart. “How could I?
According to your aunt I’m not worthy, no better than a common servant.
Frankie, we were seen last night and your aunt is distraught. I’ve been told to
leave immediately.”

“No, wait, I shall
speak to her,” he insisted, once again grabbing her by the hands.

“It’s too late,”
Heather sobbed, pulling away. Wiping away her tears and with them any emotional
attachment, she continued. “You’d do just as well taking one of your maids to
the masquerade. Why not mad Anna? It’s obvious she fancies you, skulking round.
I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I’m sure she wouldn’t need asking twice;
even your
dear
aunt would be none the wiser, as it’s easy to hide a face
behind a mask.”

“Miss Richardson, you
are so very wrong. I need no mask, for I have nothing to hide. So I ask you
again, will you marry me?”

“No, Mr Boswel, I’m
afraid not, not in your lifetime.”

“It is a dangerous game
you play, a detrimental edge to your character,” Mr Boswel said, his voice
breaking.

“Games? I don’t play
games.” She looked into his eyes one last time before leaving the room.

Closing the door behind
her, she realised in that split second the reality of what she’d done. Lady
Haunchwood had won, got the better of her, and it had taken her until now to
realise.

“Frankie, I’m sorry, of
course I’ll marry you,” she cried, throwing open the door, but

Frank was no more, and unfortunately she’d
left the past behind.

Now she knew the
visions would come true; she’d left Anna to face a horrific death sentence, and
she’d lost the only man she would ever love.

A Harsh Reality

“C
ome on, let me back please, please let me back!” Heather sobbed
hysterically, throwing herself against the door.

She thrust it open once
again, but no matter how many times she attempted to return, it was all in
vain.

Aching inside, she
threw herself onto the bed, trying so hard to hide her eyes from the truth; the
hurt unbearable, she’d never believed it possible for a heart to break, until
now. How could she have been so blind, so stupid to turn Frank down knowing how
much she loved him? Her thoughts returned to their lovemaking the previous
night, his smouldering eyes, the warm touch of his hand against her cheek. Her
heart surged, and the tears welled once more as she pictured the look of
anguish on his face. She’d left him a broken man by her cruel rejection.
But
why?
She already knew the answer – that godforsaken inheritance
. How
foolish of me
, she thought, smacking her fists down against the bed.
He
owned Freesdon Manor, didn’t he? Neither he nor Florence needed her bloody
money
. She’d allowed his aunt to shatter her life, and with it any chance
of future happiness. Lost in a haze of anger, she’d seen red, her mind awash
with emotion.
Maybe there’s still a chance
, she thought, clutching at
straws.

She ran blindly along
the landing to Florence’s room. Upon opening the door, the room was now an
empty shell. Her eyes drifted to the dressing table, and although not placed in
the exact same spot since the manor’s refurbishment, it still didn’t take her
imagination long to conjure up the past. Florence was overly excitable,
bursting with a zest for life. Heather could see her now, running towards her,
arms outstretched in welcome. Not forgetting good old Martha, always in
attendance. Heather couldn’t help but smile at the hours she’d spent on the
intricate styling of their hair. Strange in a way how close she’d grown to
Florence in such a short period of time, but with the isolation she’d had
growing up, she found the whole experience so utterly lifting. She’d found
someone with whom she could laugh, talk for hours about nothing specific, and a
bond had grown between the two. How she missed them both already. Due to her
actions, not only had she lost her best friend, but also the man she loved
dearly, and she could scarcely breathe at the thought of never holding him in
her arms again.

Now standing alone in
cold reality, it may as well have been nothing but a beautiful dream. Crushed,
she pushed the door to and ambled along the landing, returning to the room.
Slipping inside, all hope lost, she sat on the bed, depleted. The visions she’d
seen around the manor previously were all imagery of that key moment in time,
in which she had played her part so eloquently; the night from which she had
unknowingly walked away. For everything she’d seen there had a purpose. A
seemingly loving couple, Anna and Frank, as they walked up the stairs that
night hand in hand, before making love on the same bed where she sat now. She
knew, because she had been there, witnessing it all through Anna’s eyes.

Frank had taken
Heather’s words to heart and taken Anna to the masquerade, because he really
didn’t care any more about anything, or anybody. Easy prey, Anna, a maid
besotted by Mr Boswel’s good looks and charm, had been caught up in his misery,
his way of having revenge. After Anna’s untimely meddling, and her own
confrontation with Lady Haunchwood, Heather’s anger had erupted, letting slip a
warning to the butler. She shuddered, knowing the actions of Mr Clements that
would follow; faces in the dark lying in wait, with staring eyes. Heather
couldn’t forget the terror Anna felt as the door closed; that poor, poor girl,
an already unbalanced mind tipped over the edge, followed by her incarceration,
a horrific birth, crying out in pain. Yet nobody was listening, nobody came, so
she died alone, to the cries of her child.

“What on earth have I
done?”

She wept as she thought
of Anna’s baby growing up without a mother, an orphaned child growing up
without love.

Images of the boy,
Snowdon, the train, the Ouija board hit her like a bolt of lightning. She could
see the workhouse, where Anna stood over him like a guardian angel, watching
him as he took his last breath. She wondered what the boy’s true intentions
were. Did he want his own revenge in some way? Or was it just Anna, showing her
the full implications, the horrors of that one night?

Heather’s face was
ashen, and she gasped in the realisation of what she’d done.

“It’s all my fault,”
she said in horror, placing her hand to her mouth. “And I can’t go back to put
it right; I can’t change the past.”

She raised her eyes,
drawn to the mirror’s reflection, but not one of her time. Florence was sitting
life-like on the bed where Heather now sat alone, comforting Frank, her arms
around his shoulders, her face filled with concern. Intermingling voices
echoed, undefined words that passed without meaning. Frank drew something from
his coat pocket, but Heather could only just make out a gold solitaire. She
looked away; it was far too painful. On her returning glance, she was once again
met by her own reflection, to which she now spoke.

“Well, Frankie, you’ll
take Anna tonight, but when tomorrow comes, you’ll follow your aunt’s wishes. I
truly hope you find happiness with Miss Thornber.”

She left the room,
turning for one final look at the bed, the pillow...

“Shit! How could I have
been so blind? The gunshot, feathers... No, Anna doesn’t die tonight, does she?
And the only other person in the room was you.”

Feeling sick to her
stomach, she leant against the doorframe.

“Frankie, tonight’s the
night you die.”

She slid to the floor,
overwhelmed by grief. What was the point? What was the point of any of it?
Their meetings? His coming to her in the twenty-first century? Their kiss? If
only she knew. The ghastly visions had almost driven her out of her mind.
I’ve
been chosen for a reason
, she thought, yet she had managed to change
absolutely nothing. The cards had already been dealt, and fate on this occasion
had the upper hand. She felt unable to face anybody and needed to be alone with
her thoughts. She chose the lake, being the only place she could find peace and
be close to Frank.

She avoided the annex
so as not to bump into her mum or dad. The afternoon, like her mood, was
overcast, and there was no sign of it lifting. The koi were especially active,
on the lookout for food as her fingers broke the water’s tranquillity, and
there she sat whiling away the hours, lost in thought; making love to Frank
this time, unfortunately, was only in her mind. Every touch, every kiss they
shared was so natural, no awkward moments or second thoughts, which she’d felt
on several occasions during intimate moments with Ruben, whom she realised she
hadn’t given a second thought. But how could she live the rest of her life in
love with a ghost? A man that even in his own time had died. Remembering how
attentive Ruben had been during her illness, finally saying those three words
she so longed to hear, he still couldn’t ever live up to Frank and her
beautiful memory of him.

Warm hands touched her
face, fingertips covering her eyes. Could she even dare to hope? She turned
slowly, disbelief welling up inside.

“See? I couldn’t wait
that long.”

Heather’s heart sank.
“Ruben...”

He frowned upon seeing
the unfashionable way she was dressed.

“New nightie?”

Laughing, he knelt down
beside her, turning her face with his finger and giving her a meaningful peck
on her lips. But it was the wrong kiss, the wrong lips, and Heather had an
inner feeling of unfaithfulness that she couldn’t run from.

“When did I see you
last?” she asked, giving her a good excuse to pull away. She was expecting the
answer to be months, that she had missed it all, the grand opening, her
eighteenth birthday.

“Few hours, I suppose,
could be a bit longer, but not much. Why do you ask?”

She could hardly hide
the surprise on her face; it had surely been days, weeks. She remembered all
the mornings she’d woken, how many suns she’d seen rising. But if Ruben spoke
the truth, then the relationships she’d built, the love she’d found and lost,
had all happened in a heartbeat, a matter of moments. He took her hand, pulling
her to her feet.

Heather looked up at
the sky as they walked back towards the house. The sun still hadn’t managed to
show its face, and there was a dampness hanging in the air; she could smell a
moistness rising from the earth, and the feeling of a storm brewing.

“I’ve parked up by the
annex. Ya mum caught me, said everything’s pretty much done now, so it’ll be
nice as we can all sit back and relax, and wait for the opening. And I can
spend time thinking about you and your birthday.”

With more than one
meaning to his words, Heather cringed as he squeezed her hand. She looked into
his eyes, searching for the return of those old feelings, but on this occasion
the brilliance of his green eyes only left her feeling cold.

She felt so strange
upon entering the annex, which was now more like an unwanted appendage. She
quickly slipped away, changing back into her jeans and back into the
twenty-first century.

Her mum was setting the
table in the kitchen, while her dad sat on the sofa in front of the telly, his
weekly gazette on the coffee table, ready for the breaks in whatever sports
programme he was lost in. Overhearing a noise when they entered, Faye looked
up.

“Glad you’re feeling
better, love.”

Her mum’s words were
soothing and warm, and Heather realised she had missed her. She couldn’t help
but go over and place her arms around her mum’s shoulders. As they sat down for
dinner, she listened to her father’s excitement about the manor’s grand
opening, with barely a mention of her birthday. It was an afterthought, but
she’d often considered herself to be just that over the years. Quite
disappointed that her birthday celebrations were on the same day as the
opening, she was sure her special day would just fall into insignificance.

Ruben’s hands were
snake-like, and he couldn’t leave her alone for a moment. But she felt as if
she may well have been in the nineteenth century, looking in through a window,
not really there. She loved them all in her own way, though it wasn’t enough
now, and what was missing she needed more than ever. She contributed the odd
yes and no, the odd smile, trying to take an interest, and she hoped her acting
skills were better than reality. She didn’t even feel empty, it was past that;
she felt completely numb, as if her life lacked any meaning, any direction, and
that she was living in the wrong time.

Ruben sighed. “I can
see from your face that you’re tired. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” He
said his goodbyes before leaving the table.

Heather followed him
out. He leant back against the car, placing his hands on her hips, his fingers
in the pocket of her jeans.

“Now ya better we can
start living, having some fun. So many places I want to take you. Show you off
to my friends, from a distance, mind.” He gloated. “And there’s ya birthday...”

“With the opening, I
don’t think there’ll be much time for my birthday.”

Ruben tilted his head
slightly. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve already had words with ya dad.
Trust me, I’m going to make it special in every way. And I’m sure how special
you’re going to make it for me.”

Her eyes didn’t know
where to look, at him or away. She felt sick at the thought, knowing her
feelings.

“God, Hev, don’t look
so alarmed. I know it’ll be your first time and you’re bound to be nervous, a
bit apprehensive.” His hands moved up around her waist. “But there’s no need to
be. I’ll be gentle, take it slowly,” he whispered, pulling her closer. “I want
you, always. No more mistakes and shit with Beth, you’re mine now.”

She smiled up at him.
His words were sweet, but she couldn’t help wonder about his choice of words,
as if she was only a mere possession. Of course she might have been doing him
an injustice, but then she knew his capabilities, his complexities.
Although
people can change
, she reminded herself.

“And don’t worry,
Heather, I’ve already made my mind up about Beth. When I leave you, I’ll ring
her and tell her she’s not invited. I don’t want anything putting a dampener on
our special night.”

“No, Ruben, don’t. I’ve
got nothing against Beth, honestly; in fact, I quite like her. I know she
doesn’t pose a threat, and it really doesn’t matter now anyway, I’ve moved on.”
She gave a wry smile.

“Getting quite old for
ya years,” he said, seemingly pleased by her change of heart and maturity. “I
think I may be falling in love with you, Heather Richardson.”

His lips searched hers
out, and although his kiss wasn’t demanding, and in fact rather gentle, it felt
foreign, like an intrusion. Her response was forced so as not to pull away or
ruin the moment. But when she closed her eyes, she pictured Frank’s face,
feeling his mouth, his touch. She could hear his proposal in her mind, and
could picture him kneeling, presenting her with that beautiful ring she’d seen,
but only through the mirror...
Shit, the ring, Ruben’s ring!
Lifting her
head, their lips parted.

“Wish I didn’t have to
go,” he said, squeezing her hand.

Then he jumped into the
car, his face a continuation of smiles as he drove away. Heather hardly stopped
to wave him off, the ring being paramount in her mind, knowing how much it
meant to Ruben’s mum. She just couldn’t lose it, and she felt pure dread as to
where it could be now.

She found her mum still
pottering around in the annex.