The Hands of Time Page 3

  I must have dozed off, because when I woke up it was fully dark. The house around me was quiet, only the sounds of settling wood, and mice scurrying somewhere behind the walls disturbing the all-encompassing silence. I got up and walked to the window, opening it to let in some fresh air. The June breeze was cool and refreshing, and I stood at the window looking out over the distant woods. Never in my life had I seen such darkness. Even when Lou and I went camping with our dad in the Adirondacks, there was always a glimmer of distant lights visible from our campsite, and snatches of conversation and songs of the other campers floating toward us on the wind.

  The darkness outside my window was not dotted by the lights of a distant town, or sliced through by the headlights of an approaching car. I could see the darker outline of trees against sky, and could just make out the wall surrounding the castle, but not much else. There weren’t even any boats on the river navigating their way by the light of a lantern swinging from a beam. I could hear an owl hooting somewhere in the distance, and the sounds of horses, restless in their stalls, were carried on the breeze; but there were no sounds of people, and I closed the window, shivering with anxiety. I hadn’t known what scared and alone was until today, and I crawled back into bed, pulling the coverlet over my head, trying not to think of what Luisa must be going through at that very moment and cried myself to sleep.

  Chapter 5

  Present Day

  Louisa sat with her head in her hands, elbows leaning on the table. When Valerie did’t show up promptly at six, she ordered herself a glass of Chardonnay and sat down at the polished bar to wait. She was a few minutes early anyway, so she exchanged a few comments about the weather with the barman before checking her watch again. Luisa took a sip of wine, enjoying its cold, crisp bouquet, and wondered what kind of mood Valerie would be in when she got there. Tomorrow was Michael’s wedding day, and she couldn’t blame her sister for feeling awful. The man deserved to be drawn and quartered as far as she was concerned, leaving Val like that, and flaunting his pregnant girlfriend for all the world to see. He was starting a whole new life, while her sister had to rebuild hers piece by little piece, starting with her self-esteem and the ability to ever trust a man again.

  By 6:30 pm Luisa began to get a little annoyed, and she looked at her watch more frequently thinking of the talking to that Val was going to get when she finally arrived. Being a few minutes late was no big deal, but it was over half an hour now and that was bordering on rude. She was hungry too, so she asked for the menu to distract herself from watching the door.

  Annoyance turned into worry by 7:00 pm and Lou began getting that gnawing feeling in her stomach, feeling that something was definitely wrong. It was only an hour and too soon to alert the police or truly panic, but her sister was never more than a few minutes late, and this was definitely out of character. The young barman tried to distract Louisa with conversation, seeing her get more frantic by the minute, but he secretly thought that her sister just got held up somewhere and would be there momentarily. He smiled when he thought of the tongue-lashing she would get from her irate sibling.

  Louisa finally asked the barman to call the police by 8:00 pm. He gave her a dubious look, but dialed the number and asked the constable to come over to the pub right away. Constable Gary Tomkins arrived five minutes later, notepad in hand, ready to take down the information. His last crime had been the theft of some fish off a boat as a practical joke, and he was seriously hoping for something he could sink his teeth into. A suspicious disappearance of a tourist could certainly be a case to make his career, especially if he managed to track her down to some dangerous location, having been accosted by dangerous types and in need of heroic rescue. The constable reluctantly pushed his fantasy to the back of his mind and sat down with Louisa to take down her statement. He instructed the barman to look out for Valerie, while he took Louisa into his cruiser for a ride around the village.

  They drove slowly up and down every single street, stopping occasionally to ask passersby to look at Valerie’s picture and try to remember if they had seen her at any time in the past couple of hours. A few people actually did recall seeing her walking down the street or sitting at the café by the river, and their statements finally led Louisa and Constable Tomkins to the antique shop. The store was already closed for the night, but the owner lived right above the premises and came down to speak with them. He was an old man with thick horn-rimmed glasses, and wispy white hair combed over his balding pate. He looked frail in his tweed trousers and gray cardigan, and Luisa could not find it within herself to be angry with him for not calling the police when he found that Valerie was gone.

  Mr. Taylor looked at the picture for a long time before replying. “The young lady did come into the shop this afternoon. It was around 4:00 pm. I know that because I’d just gone into the back room to put the kettle on for my tea. She wandered around looking at various items, and seemed to have left by the time I came back out. I found her bag lying on the floor next to one of the shelves in the back, and thought she must have dropped it and would come back once she realized it was missing.” The man looked distraught, and Constable Tomkins seemed ill at ease questioning him.

  “Mr. Taylor, did you hear anything? Any signs of a struggle, or an argument of some sort?”

  “No, it was very quiet. I didn’t even hear the bell over the door when she left.” He shrugged as if trying to understand how that could have happened.

  “Could someone have forced her to leave by the back way?” Tomkins was trying, but Louisa knew it was useless. The man obviously didn’t see or hear anything. He had been in the back room, and Valerie would have to have gone right past him to leave by the back way. The questioning was a dead-end. Could Valerie have been so distraught by Michael’s wedding that she had some sort of breakdown? It didn’t seem that way. She’d been shopping for souvenirs and there were postcards and a magnet in her bag. Not exactly symptoms of a person having a nervous breakdown. The wallet and all her credit cards were untouched, so she hadn’t been mugged or attacked. No one had seen anything suspicious, and if someone forced a woman to leave a shop and get into a car, it wouldn’t go unnoticed in a small town full of busybodies who knew the minute details of their neighbors’ lives. Mrs. Bradford had confirmed that Valerie never came back after she went out before lunch, but went up to check the room just in case. Nothing.

  The constable took Louisa back to the pub to get her a cup of tea and go over the evidence, which was practically non-existent. All they knew was that Valerie Crane had left the inn shortly before lunch and went to the harbor café. She spent over an hour there and then wandered around town, stopping into various shops until approximately 4pm when she entered the shop of Mr. Frederick Taylor. Sometime between 4 pm and 4:10 pm when Mr. Taylor emerged from the back, Valerie vanished, leaving her bag and no other clue to her disappearance. The constable was stumped.

  “Constable, I’d like you to get a detective on the case right away. Is there one here in the village?” Louisa asked her hands shaking violently as she tried to pick up the teacup.

  “There’s no detective here, but I’ll place a call to Plymouth and they’ll send someone down tomorrow.”

  “The trail might grow cold by tomorrow,” Louisa sighed. She knew there was no trail.

  “They will do everything they can, Ms. Jamison. Why don’t I take you back to the inn and you can try to get some rest, and I’ll ring you first thing in the morning after I speak to the detective?” Louisa had no choice but to agree. There was nothing more she could do at the pub. Valerie was obviously not coming. She would just try to go to bed, and pray that she would show up in the morning. Maybe this was just some dramatic reaction to Michael’s wedding. Deep down, Lou didn’t believe that. She knew her sister too well, and she prayed that the detective would shed some light on the case.

  Chapter 6

  June 1605

  Alec had a number of questions to put to his unexpected guest, but they all died on his
lips when he saw Valerie Crane walk into the dining room the following morning on the heels of Betty. She was wearing a blue gown that had belonged to Rose, and the color only served to accentuate the dark smudges under her eyes and the pallor of her skin. It was obvious that she had been crying, and Alec felt a terrible pity for the girl. She looked so frail and ill.

  Alec did not really believe that she didn’t know what happened to her, she just didn’t want to tell him. She was obviously not from around here, and judging by her odd speech, she must have come from somewhere abroad. She might have married an Englishman and left her home, only to find her husband cruel or violent. She would not be the first. She was obviously terrified of being found out, and he had no intention of forcing her to return home. In his experience, very few women ran away from home, so her situation must have been particularly bad. Judging from her clear complexion and soft hands, she was obviously not a servant, and her proud bearing proclaimed her to be of the upper classes. She was most likely educated and bred for the life of a lady. In any case, if there was anything to find out, Finlay would no doubt charm it out of her in short order. Women had a way of opening up to his brother, he thought, as he rose to bid Miss Crane a good morrow.

  “How are you feeling this morning, Mistress Crane?” He could tell exactly how she was feeling, but he felt the need to say something and that was the first thing that came to mind.

  “I’m all right, thank you.” She looked away from him as quickly as possible, avoiding eye contact. Poor girl, he thought, I am not going to hurt you. He did, however, feel the need to address the issue somehow without frightening her.

  “Is there anywhere I can escort you?” Her eyes flew to his in obvious panic.

  “No, I’ve nowhere to go.” Her hands were trembling in her lap and he felt a cad for asking, but to say nothing would be strange under the circumstances.

  “Might someone be looking for you, Mistress Crane? A relative, or a friend, perhaps?”

  “I don’t believe so, Mr. Whitfield.” Alec was wondering what to say next, when he was rescued by the arrival of his brother. Finn came strolling into the dining room and stopped at the sight of Valerie. Alec couldn’t help noticing that his brother was wearing his favorite green doublet which brought out the color of his eyes, knowing full well that the girl was said to be attractive. He smiled into his napkin and watched the exchange with interest.

  “Finlay Whitfield at your service, Mistress Crane.” He took the girl’s hand and bowed over it, before placing a gentle kiss and gazing into her eyes. “I must confess that if regaining your memory means losing you, then I hope you never recover.”

  Alec nearly groaned with disgust, but the girl seemed to respond to Finlay and smiled up at him with gratitude. He was obviously on the right track, that devil. Finlay was not about to stop.

  “This tomb of a castle is in desperate need of a woman’s beauty. You have lit up the dining room like the morning sun.” Alec wanted to point out that the dining room was indeed lit up by the morning sun, but looked down instead to hide his grin. Finn was certainly having better results than he was. Valerie was looking at him with open admiration, the fear in her eyes replaced for the moment with wonder.

  “I wonder have you seen anything of the grounds? I have an errand to see to this morning, but I would be honored if you would permit me to give you a tour when I get back after luncheon. Would that suit?” He gave the girl such a charming smile that she had no choice but to smile back.

  “Thank you, Mr. Whitfield,” she began, but Finlay interrupted her.

  “Finn, please. Mr. Whitfield was my father, and that crashing bore over there across the table is Mr. Whitfield as well. I am just Finn.”

  “All right, Finn. I’d be happy to have you show me the grounds.” She picked up her teacup, and Alec noticed that her hands were no longer trembling. Well done, brother, he thought as he picked up his own cup. In the meantime, Finn settled himself into a chair next to Miss Crane and poured her a fresh cup of tea like the best of hostesses, offering her a sausage roll before putting one on his plate. He seemed so at ease that the girl began to relax and even took a bite of the roll.

  “Finn, is Mr. Willis still asleep?” He didn’t like Finn’s guest and would be glad to see the back of him. There was something shifty about the man, and he worried about Finlay talking in front of the man so openly last night. Some things his brother said could be called treasonous, and he worried about his lack of discretion.

  “He left at dawn. He had business in Plymouth.” Finn reached for another roll and offered the plate to Miss Crane, who declined, but gave him a charming smile which he returned tenfold.

  “Speaking of Plymouth, I had a message yesterday. Morning Star is due to dock on the evening tide tomorrow. I think both of us are required.”

  “I will be ready to leave by noon on the morrow,” with that Finlay rose from the table and gave Miss Crane a courteous bow before excusing himself and walking out the door.

  Miss Crane watched Finlay go and her look of fear instantly returned. Alec wanted to put her at ease, but he was not the flirt his brother was and small talk did not come easily to him.

  “There is a lovely walled garden behind the castle. Perhaps you would care to see it? My mother used to love sitting there on summer mornings.” The thought of his mother made his chest constrict for a moment, but he continued. “I have some work to do this morning, but I would be happy to show you the garden first.”

  “That would be lovely, Mr. Whitfield,” she answered without enthusiasm. No doubt she thought he would question her about her past, and she obviously had things to hide.

  “Please call me Alec and I will call you Valerie, if I may. I give you my word that you are safe here with us, and I will not ask another thing. You can tell me only what you wish. You can stay here indefinitely if you wish. We certainly have the room and as my brother pointed out, we are in sore need of beauty and wit.” He sounded pompous, even to himself, but that seemed to put her at ease slightly, and she smiled at him.

  “Thank you, Alec. That’s very kind. I would love to see the garden with you."

  Chapter 7

  Alec Whitfield was true to his word and didn’t ask me any more questions as we strolled around the lovely garden, pointing out the different flowers that his mother had planted before her death. On this warm, June morning, the garden was a riot of color with everything busting into bloom around us, and birds singing their hearts out delirious with joy over the gorgeous weather. The smell of roses filled the air, and the bees hovered over the fragrant blooms buzzing contentedly. The idyll of the garden made me feel slightly more peaceful than I did this morning, as I followed Alexander Whitfield from flower bed to flower bed. We made small talk for a little while, but neither one of us was a natural gardener, and the topic was soon exhausted. Eventually Alec excused himself, and went back inside to work, leaving me alone in the garden with my thoughts.

  I sat down on a stone bench next to a particularly fragrant bush of primroses and closed my eyes, turning my face to the morning sun. I felt slightly less hysterical knowing that the Whitfields weren’t going to put me out any time soon. At least, I was relatively safe for now until I came up with some kind of plan. I smiled, thinking of Finn. He was certainly a surprise. Tall and lean like his brother, he had darker hair and eyes of a brilliant shade of green, brought out by his moss-colored doublet, purchased no doubt for that purpose. I think Finlay was very much aware of his charms, and didn’t lack for female companionship. He went out of his way to put me at ease this morning, and I was grateful to him for that kindness. He must have realized how frightened I was, and tried to reassure me that my presence at the castle wasn’t a burden. I had to admit that he was one of the best-looking men I had ever seen, and I had seen plenty.

  Alec was handsome too, but in a different way. He was obviously older by a few years and there was a maturity in him that wasn’t apparent in his brother. His brown eyes were thoughtful and int
elligent, but also a trifle melancholy, especially when he spoke of his mother. Finn was the charmer, but Alec was the one with authority, and he made me feel strangely safe in a situation where safety was as elusive as the moon. He’d promised me his protection, and I believed he took his promises seriously.

  I was startled out of my reverie by the sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel path, and opened my eyes to find a young girl standing in front of me, gaping with curiosity. She was about fourteen with wispy blond hair trying to escape the confines of her cap, and watery blue eyes, round with wonder. She gave me an awkward curtsey and blurted out, “It’s almost lunchtime, Miss. Mr. Alec sent me to fetch ye.”

  “Thank you. You must be Nell.” The girl gaped at me as if I was clairvoyant and nodded vigorously. “Betty told me about you. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Miss.” She curtsied again and opened her mouth as if to say something, closing it again and turning to walk back up the path. I followed her reluctantly, not wanting to leave the sanctuary of the garden. Finlay would be back soon, and although I looked forward to our walk, I was also a little apprehensive. I wondered if I should be asking for a chaperone.

  Chapter 8

  Finlay presented himself to me in the drawing room shortly after lunch, ready for our walk. He was still wearing the same clothes, but his hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and tied back with a thong, and a sword was hanging at his left hip, the hilt glinting in the sunlight. He followed my gaze and smiled. “Just a precaution, Mistress Crane. Nothing to concern yourself with. Shall we?”