A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) Read online

  A World Apart

  The Hands of Time: Book 3

  By

  Irina Shapiro

  © 2013 by Irina Shapiro

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the author.

  All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people (except those who are actual historical figures) are purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Epilogue

  Notes

  Excerpt from The Folly by Irina Shapiro

  Prologue

  October 2012

  Weak rays of autumn sunshine filtered through the shop windows, dust motes twirling lazily in the shafts of light, settling onto the scuffed floor. The wooden counter reflected the sun, being the only object left in the empty room. Just yesterday, Hugh Sanders had his men crate up the inventory and remove it to his own shop in Plymouth. Hugh rubbed his hands with pleasure, congratulating himself on the low price he paid for the lot. Only patches of unfaded wallpaper remained where paintings had hung for years, and scratches on the floor bore testament to pieces of antique furniture that crowded the small showroom.

  Frederick Taylor looked around the empty room before closing the door behind him for the last time. By next week, this place would be an internet café, or yet another gift shop. He’d stop by the estate agent’s and drop off the keys before taking himself out for a leisurely breakfast. After that, he’d be on his way. He’d spend a few days in London, as planned, then catch a flight to the States. He had some unfinished business in colonial Virginia; business that he’d put off for far too long.

  Virginia

  October 1622

  Chapter 1

  Valerie bolted out of bed at the sound of the closing door. Finn’s footsteps creeping down the hall toward the stairs a few moments ago chased away the last remnants of sleep, so she threw on her dressing gown, pulled aside the curtain, and opened the window. She knew she should just let him go, but as a mother, she simply couldn’t. The sun was just rising above the treetops, long shafts of weak light dispelling the gloom of the bedroom. Valerie hoped that Finn wouldn’t turn around and catch her watching him. He wouldn’t like that. At sixteen, he fancied himself a grown man, and having his mother fuss over him was cause for an argument –- one they’d had many times.

  Finn looked around stealthily before disappearing into the shed and re-emerging a few minutes later with a bulging sack. He locked the shed behind him, slung the sack over his shoulder, and strode purposefully away from the house, melting into the still-dark woods. Valerie watched him until he disappeared from view, sighed, and turned from the window to find Alec watching her, his hands behind his head, hair fanned on the pillow.

  “What’s troubling you, sweetheart? Why don’t you come back to bed and tell me about it?” Alec pulled the coverlet aside in invitation, but Valerie crossed her arms and began pacing the room. “Is it Finn?” Alec sat up in bed, his amorous ideas forgotten for the moment.

  “I’m worried about him, Alec. He’s off again, and he took a large sack with him. I can only guess what’s in it -- skins and tobacco. I think he’s trading with the Indians. I saw him hiding a tomahawk in his room the other day. There is only one place he could’ve gotten that.” Valerie continued to pace in her agitation, oblivious to the haze of morning sunshine creeping into the shadowy recesses of the room. She briefly noticed that Alec’s eyes looked golden in the light, and that his hair had copper highlights from spending so much time outdoors, but she ignored her husband’s charms and continued with her tirade.

  “I cannot believe that he would trade with them after what happened barely six months ago. So many people massacred; crops burned. Just because we were spared doesn’t mean we’re safe. How can he be so naïve? What’s to keep them from killing him as well? He thinks that just because they share an interest in hunting that makes them friends.

  He’s sixteen, Alec. He should be interested in something other than hunting. If he were living in the twenty-first century, he’d be looking at colleges, choosing a career, and making plans for a life filled with choices and opportunities. What opportunities does he have here? What will he do with his life?” Valerie turned to Alec, daring him to answer her.

  “Valerie, I realize you can’t help comparing this life to the life you’ve known, but Finn doesn’t miss something he’s not aware of. This is the only reality he understands. Besides, he’s not trading with the Indians. He would have told me. Stop worrying. In time, he’ll marry and inherit the estate, becoming a landowner. The tobacco business is very lucrative, so I have every confidence that he will prosper and be able to provide for the family.”

  Alec tried to sound reasonable, but Valerie wasn’t ready to capitulate. She was too agitated. The March massacre was still fresh in everyone’s mind. Hundreds of people were butchered by the Indians; homes burned, crops destroyed. Many people would be struggling this winter, with not enough supplies to carry them through to spring. King James promised help and extra supplies, but would they get to the colonists in time? Valerie had been terrified when she heard of the slaughter. Many of the nearby settlements had been attacked, leaving Rosewood Manor miraculously untouched. The Indians never troubled them, since they were somewhat remote and kept to themselves, but other plantations had not been so lucky. People they knew had been killed, including two of the three Catholic families in the area.

  “And who will he marry exactly? There is only one Catholic family that we know of within miles of here, and Finn would rather marry a goat than Susan Selby.” She watched Alec, her fo
ot tapping anxiously on the wooden floor.

  “I can’t say I blame him. Given the choice, I’d probably opt for the goat myself, although a sheep might be more practical for intimate purposes.” Alec tried to stifle a grin, infuriating Valerie further.

  “This is no laughing matter. We are talking about our son’s future.”

  “I realize that, darling. Your stories of the future have captured my heart and fired my imagination, but despite all that, our life is here and now. I know it must be difficult for you to accept the limitations our children will be faced with, but there’s no other choice. There are many people who would give their eye teeth to be in the position we’re in. We must be grateful for what the good Lord has seen fit to bestow on us. Now, come here and let me kiss that frown away. Being angry with me won’t help Finn avoid copulating with livestock.”

  Valerie finally exhausted herself and climbed into bed next to Alec, allowing him to pull her into his embrace, his intentions clear. A wail pierced the silence, eliciting another sigh from Valerie.

  “I think that baby has only two sound settings –- loud, and louder.” She snuggled next to Alec, grateful not to have a hungry newborn.

  “You’re worried they’ll leave, aren’t you?” Alec asked, kissing her brow. He knew his wife well enough to sense her fear.

  Valerie nodded miserably. “They won’t go anywhere now, but come spring, I think Kit will want to go home. He’s restless, Alec. I can see it in his eyes. By springtime, they would have been here nearly three years, and he misses home.” Valerie angrily wiped away the stray tear gliding down her cheek. The idea of losing Louisa again caused her indescribable pain.

  “Valerie, Kit has estates in England, and responsibilities. His nephew can’t be expected to see to Kit’s interests forever. Robin’s got his own life to lead. Isn’t he getting married soon?”

  “Yes, and Caroline has been unwell. I know Kit worries that she might take a turn for the worse. She is his only sibling, and he misses her.” Valerie didn’t protest as Alec’s hand slid into her nightdress, cupping her breast. She was still upset, but he always knew how to make her feel better.

  “Sweetheart, forget all that for now. No one is going anywhere for the time being, and it’s only England, not the moon. Ships sail back and forth all the time. Now come here.”

  Alec flipped Valerie onto her stomach, pushing up her nightdress and spreading her legs as he pinned her down with his own body. He held down her wrists as he entered her, moving slowly and deliberately, until she forgot her worries and began to move her hips in time with his. Sometimes she liked the feeling of being taken, rather than made love to. There was something deliciously primal about surrendering herself to a man and letting him have his way with her. Alec knew her well enough to recognize that by relinquishing control of her body, she was also relinquishing control of the situation that had been tormenting her. Sometimes life had its own plan, and it was wise to remember that, rather than attempting to fight the unstoppable march of destiny. Valerie shuddered beneath Alec as her body reached its climax. She sighed with pleasure as Alec rolled off her, satisfied. He kissed her shoulder and closed his eyes, signaling his refusal to get up and start the day.

  Valerie pushed down her nightgown and rolled over onto her back, her mind returning to the problems at hand. Alec was right. She was just winding herself up. Finn was very lucky for a boy of this time. He would inherit a profitable estate, which would ensure a comfortable life for himself and his family. And if Kit decided to return to England, Valerie would just have to go for an extended visit and enjoy all that England had to offer.

  Another wail filled the house as Lady Evangeline Sheridan protested getting her clout changed, no doubt. For a one-month-old, she certainly had very definite ideas of what she didn’t like.

  Chapter 2

  Finn glanced at the cloudless aquamarine sky, judging the position of the sun. It was probably around 8 a.m., and he was getting hungry. He had plenty of time before he was due to meet his friends, despite the three-hour walk ahead of him, so he chose a dry, fallen log, and hung up his sack off a branch to prevent the tobacco from getting damp. He’d made himself breakfast before leaving the house this morning, and sat down to enjoy his meal. The cider in the stone bottle was cool and refreshing as it slid down his throat. Finn closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the peace of the forest. A thrush was singing somewhere in the distance, mingling with the ever-present rustling of leaves and breaking of dry twigs as small animals darted to and fro beneath the undergrowth. The rays of the sun piercing the canopy of the forest were getting warmer, and quickly evaporating the dew on the leaves and grass.

  Finn had always loved the woods. It wasn’t just the game that attracted him, but the peaceful balance of nature, so lacking in their overcrowded house. These days he needed the escape more than ever. Baby Evangeline was always howling, and little Louisa went from being a sweet little girl to a moody, brooding witch. His mother said it was normal at this age, and would eventually pass, but Finn had his doubts. Louisa was growing into a woman, after all, and women were quite beyond his understanding.

  Thinking of women reminded Finn of the Indian girl he’d seen the last time he met his friends by the waterfall. He promised his father he’d never go back there after breaking his leg two years ago, but he was drawn there nonetheless. The spot was beautiful, and Finn was intrigued by the Indians he’d heard while hiding in the cave. It didn’t take long for him to make contact, and now they met routinely to trade, smoke a pipe, and tell stories. Many people feared the Indians, especially after what happened in March, but Finn wasn’t afraid. His family had never interfered with the natives, and the local Indians felt no resentment toward the Whitfields.

  Finn only knew a few words of their language, and they knew even less English, but they managed to communicate using hands, and even drawing pictures in the dirt to illustrate their point. The Indians were as curious about him as he was about them. Finn didn’t really need the things he traded for, but he craved the companionship of boys his own age. He enjoyed the company of his father and uncles, but it wasn’t the same as having friends. Finn met some other young men his age at church, but they came mostly from Jamestown and didn’t share his interests. They would follow in their fathers’ footsteps, becoming tradesmen and landowners. Tobacco was the currency of the colony and the quickest path to comfort and prosperity. Finn would become a landowner as well, but for the time being, he could indulge his other interests and let his father deal with the daily responsibilities of running a tobacco plantation. It would be years until his father passed on the reins, and Finn was in no hurry.

  Finn’s Indian friends were of the Algonquian tribe; one of the many tribes making up the powerful Powhatan Chiefdom. Each tribe still had its own lands and chief, but there was also a head chief of whom Finn thought as the King. His friends told him that the Powhatan had lived in Virginia for thousands of years before white man came, and numbered in the thousands. Finn never dared to go to their village despite overwhelming curiosity to see how they lived. The villagers would scalp him first and ask questions later.

  Finn was happy to meet by the waterfall once a month and hear his friends’ stories. The three braves that always came were Achak, whose name meant Spirit in Algonquian, Keme – Thunder, and Mingan – Gray Wolf, for the wolf he killed when he was seven. From time to time, one or two other young men showed up, but Finn didn’t consider them to be friends. The braves wore clothes made of deerskin to protect them from scratches and bites, and moccasins on their feet. The right side of their head was shaved while the hair on the left side was left long, and frequently braided and decorated with trophies of the kill, such as feathers and fangs. Finn thought that was terribly strange until he understood the reason for the odd hairstyle. Indian men shaved the right side of their head to avoid having arrows getting caught in their hair while hunting.

  The last time they met, Keme’s sister, Sokanon, tagged along. Keme joked th
at her name meant “rain” because of all the crying she did when she was a baby. Finn thought that would be a suitable name for Evangeline. Sokanon was the first Indian girl Finn had ever met. He’d seen some Indian women in Jamestown, their baskets full of corn and cradleboards strapped to their backs; the infants gazing at the world around them from their upright position on the mother’s back, but he’d never seen a girl his own age. He tried not to stare at the brown skin of her arms and bare legs, but his eyes kept straying of their own accord. She wore a leather dress and some sort of beaded necklace, her hair hanging halfway down her back, black and shiny as a raven’s wing, with a single thin braid on the left side, decorated with a few feathers. She hid behind the men, taking discreet peeks at Finn and giggling behind her hand. He must have looked strange to her as well.

  Later that night in his bed, Finn tried to imagine what Sokanon looked like under her leather attire, but his mind drew a blank. He’d never seen an unclothed woman and had only a vague idea of what to do with one. His father had tried to talk to him when he was fourteen, but Finn hadn’t been ready to listen. He’d been terribly embarrassed, especially when he woke up in the mornings with his nightshirt soiled. He tried to wash the telltale stains away, but then the shirt was wet and the maid assumed that he’d wet himself, which was even worse.

  Eventually, he asked Uncle Charles. Being only eleven years older than Finn, Charles was more like an older brother than an uncle, and only too happy to oblige. Charles explained the basic facts of female anatomy and advised Finn to pleasure the woman first, but only if he cared for her. If not, it was fine to pleasure himself. Finn wasn’t really sure what he meant by that, but felt too foolish to ask.

  Charles suggested that Finn might start paying attention to Minnie, who took over as maid of all work after Agnes left to marry Richard last month. Minnie was slight and pretty, with a shy smile and beautiful dark eyes. She was quick to blush every time Finn looked at her, and Charles thought she might be a willing participant in Finn’s education, but Finn had his doubts. Minnie and her father had come over from England a few weeks ago; leaving their fishing village behind in search of a new start after a tragedy had torn their family apart. Minnie’s mother died of childbed fever -- her newborn twins with her. Minnie never spoke of her loss, but a terrible sadness lurked just beneath the surface, always there in her eyes. Finn secretly wished that he could do something to ease her pain. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her to be torn away from everything and everyone and brought across the ocean to a dangerous and untamed land by a father who was mad with grief. He might have wanted to get away from the place where he’d known so much pain, but he obviously hadn’t given much thought to his fifteen-year-old daughter, selling her into indentured labor for seven years and leaving her to live among strangers.