The Will of Time Page 4

  No! Suddenly Leia was not feeling well at all. She could not believe she was somehow back in 1863. Civil War time? Real fighting, real bloodshed! No, it was impossible. She was a twentieth-century woman, dammit!

  "I'm fine, Brant. I think I just need to get some sleep. Too much wine, probably."

  He smiled as if he finally understood her, and rose to escort her back to the house. She knew then how to get to the bottom of this mess. She needed to get off this property. Even Jason Maxwell, real estate wizard, couldn't have the resources to extend his scam outside of the McGarland gates. Although she knew her property boundaries up one side and down the other, literally, she wasn't about to test the limits of Jason's charade in the dark.

  For tonight, she would play along. Tomorrow, she would ask one of the maids to take her to town, and she'd get back to reality. She didn't feel like she was in any immediate danger, quite the opposite. Leia sighed and smiled, thanked Brant for the walk, and went inside.

  "Hettie, I would like to go into town today. Martha doesn't approve of my attire, and I'd like to do some shopping," Leia said, tying a coarse apron over the black dress she'd borrowed. She felt surprisingly good, having slept well on the feathery mattress of the green guest room. Martha had seen her to bed personally, providing a nightgown straight from the eighteen-hundreds. It had not looked old enough to be an actual antique, and Leia had again been impressed by the thoroughness of the scam-designers. She had lain awake a short time expecting Jason to make an appearance, but he did not. The night was quiet except for the crickets, silence overwhelming everything else. She'd awakened several times and wondered about time, about her life, about Martin.

  Just after dawn Martha had appeared with a dark brown, nearly black gown and the coordinating undergarments. Leia had hidden her own skirt, bra and panties in a tall armoire. Hettie had come to help her dress, insisting she wear thick stockings and a balmoral petticoat under the gown, which had a corset-like bodice built in. Leia began to sweat just thinking about all of these heavy clothes. She wouldn't even have known what they were if Sara hadn't taught her. After squeezing her waist into a stiff, tiny garment, the maid arranged Leia's blonde hair into a chignon so tightly that her eyes pulled squinty. Martha had sighed and told Leah she'd have to wear her own shoes, but heaven only knew where she had obtained such unsightly items of torture.

  "Miz Leah, you knows you can't be going to any town, and you are still in mourning, so you have to wear black, " Hettie told her in a serious tone, and continued stirring whatever she was stirring. Aha, Leah thought, I've got them now. They can't continue this charade if I leave the grounds.

  "And why would that be, Hettie?"

  "Soldiers, Miz Leah, the war! Mista Brant said we shouldn't leave the house at all, that Confederates are headin' this way even as we speak." Leah was surprised that the woman had come up with such a good answer to her challenge. It fit right in with the date Brant had given her last night, June 1863. She remembered from busloads of high school field trips that Gettysburg had been a huge battle sight in July of that year. One of the few perks of growing up in Walnut Grove, Maryland was the close proximity to the Pennsylvania battlefields.

  "Hettie, I need to get out of here for a while, war or no war. How far is it to town?'

  "Too far to walk, if that's what you are wantin' to do," the maid replied, pouring a creamy orange batter into a dish. The tone she used sounded familiar to Leia, but she couldn't place where she'd heard it before.

  "What are you making?"

  "Pumpkin pie. It is Mista Patrick's favorite. We put up enough pumpkin every year so he can have pie year 'round."

  "Um, sounds good. Hettie, is there a car...carriage I could use?" Leia decided to play along for the moment to get what she wanted.

  "Yes'm, there is. But it's hidden away. You'd need to speak with Mista Patrick. He don' want no soldiers confiscatin' it."

  "Confiscating what?"

  The women had not heard Brant enter the room. They turned to look at him, and Leia saw worry, or suspicion, crinkling the handsome face.

  "Good morning, Brant," Leia began, "I was just asking Hettie if I could take the carriage into town." She smiled at him, even batting her eyelashes. She wished that she had mascara to enhance them.

  "No, I'm afraid that would be too dangerous. May I ask why you wish to go?"

  "Well, I need to purchase clothing," she said, "and shoes. Aunt Martha did not seem to approve of my dress last night, and the rest of my clothing was stolen." Not exactly a lie, she thought, I just don't happen to have the rest of my 1990's wardrobe handy. Where had Jason moved her clothes to, anyway? Had all her personal items been stashed away, along with her friends?

  "I can understand her concern. I, however, enjoyed your unique style. And with the war on, there's not a great deal available in store clothing. Cotton is very precious now." Brant spoke softly, a teasing tone in his voice. "Tell me, are all the ladies in Baltimore as lovely as you? If they are, the Confederates may never get any farther north than that."

  "Oh, they won't go through Baltimore," Leia said, leaning against the wood counter.

  "And how do you know that?" Brant's eyes narrowed.

  She wasn't sure how to answer him. She just remembered that the troops had come up more west than Baltimore. She really couldn't even be sure of that fact, however, not being an expert on the Civil War. Brant had crossed his arms in front of his body, and obviously wasn't moving until he got a satisfactory response. Luckily, Martha entered the kitchen chattering happily.

  "Leah, oh good! Here you are. We have received an invitation to the Bauer home, our neighbors. They've asked us to come for lunch...you, me and MaryKatherine. Won't that be pleasant? We will have to walk, though, because Patrick insists the carriage stay hidden. Come with me, dear, we have to see if MaryKatherine has more sturdy shoes you can borrow. You will never make it on those scanty things you wear." She rubbed her hands together, then wrung them as if worried. "Good morning Brant, Patrick would like to see you, he has some papers for you to sign. Witness, I think he said. Come, dear," Martha said, pulling Leia from the room before Brant could say a word.

  Leia smiled at Martha's wonderful timing, but was reminded of Martin and grew anxious wondering what had happened to him. She hoped he hadn't been hurt by the perpetrators of this sham.

  The realization that she was leaving the property cheered her. Although it wasn't freedom to seek out the civilization of a town, she should be able to spot inconsistencies or staged settings, and once she could determine that this was a hoax with certainty, she could demand that it be brought to an end. Or, at the very least, she could make an escape. Martha handed her a cloak and a pair of spool-heeled ankle boots, and Leia wondered why her own shoes wouldn't work for a walk next door. She'd always thought of the granny boots as sturdy.

  She did not have long to wonder. After the first quarter-mile her feet hurt. Neighbors weren't close in modern Walnut Grove, but this was ridiculous. The air was warm from sun and humidity. The weather seemed just like a normal June day. The grass was as tall as their knees in some places, and Leia noticed that a good mowing was in order. She also noted with some trepidation that the Smith house, the neighboring white stone house, was missing.

  Brant watched the little party set out, then returned to the kitchen.

  "May I have more water?" he asked, watching Hettie perform her daily work. The pies she created for the family were only a tiny part of the duties Brant knew she did.

  At her nod, Brant poured his own water from a glazed brown pitcher.

  "Mista Brant," Hettie began, still keeping her eyes on her current project. "Why do you suppose Miz Leah wanted that carriage?"

  Brant's cup thudded to the counter beside him. "I'm sure she was sincere about needing dresses. What she was wearing last evening was strange in some way."

  Hettie turned to him, wiping her flour coated hands on a rough towel. "May I speak?"

  Brant passed a hand through his hair,
loosening it from his damp forehead. "Of course."

  "Why did Miz Leah follow you back to the cellar last night?"

  "Another question, Hettie, that I can't find a ready answer for."

  Hettie nodded, slowly, her dark eyes solemn. Brant noticed she had sprouted a few graying strands lately. "She is lovely. Far more than that Belle woman. Could cause a body to lose his head, if you know what I mean."

  "Don't worry. Mine is on very tightly." At her pointed glance, he added, "And it has been ever since Margaret. Still, there's always reason for caution when so much is at stake." He reached for his cup again.

  "We go on like usual?"

  He stared at Hettie, weighing possibilities in his head. "We must. There's too much to do to let fear stop us. Agreed?"

  "Yes sir." She straightened, holding her lower back with one hand. "Too much to do, and too little time."

  As the small group rounded a bend in the dirt carriage-walk, Leia drew in her breath. Where the Foster's cedar-shingled ranch should be was a three-story brick mansion. She felt a pit form and begin to burn at the bottom of her stomach. Her palms were sweating profusely.

  A circular dirt driveway led them to the porch that ran the entire front of the house. The white brick only made the house look larger, as did the doorway that was wide enough to hang four standard-size doors.

  "Thank you for the shoes, MaryKatherine. I had no idea how far we would walk," Leia whispered to the young woman as they climbed the white brick steps to the porch. If she concentrated on her feet, she couldn't start to freak out about the impossible scenery. The door was opened by a large black man, who was dressed very nicely in a gray suit of some sort. The McGarland group was ushered inside, and Leia stared in awe at the curving staircase they faced. As a white-haired woman in a blue gown was introduced to her, Leia began to feel dizzy.

  "My dear, you look quite ill! Please, come in and rest," the woman offered, startled by Leia's pale and damp appearance. "Is it the heat?"

  "Thank you, Mrs. Bauer," Leia whispered, allowing herself to be seated on a long bench. She saw Aunt Martha and their hostess tilt heads together, obviously discussing her odd behavior. MaryKatherine sat beside her and patted her hand sympathetically, as if she knew just how Leia felt. Fat chance, Leia thought. The prim and proper MaryKatherine McGarland would not, in a million years, understand what Leia faced...that this was really 1863, that this could not possibly be a hoax or scam. She was very much awake, and unless she was insane, she had traveled back in time.

  The realization that one had traveled through time was no less frightening than finding one was being victimized by scam artists. The only major difference Leia could think of was that there was no great danger imminent from the "players" themselves. Martha, MaryKatherine, and old Patrick were her ancestors, not criminals...and Brant, he was just a good-looking soldier from the Union army. These thoughts swirled through Leia's mind as she dressed for dinner. Her illness, although it was actually just strange behavior, Aunt Martha had said, was why they had left the Bauers' home almost as soon as they had arrived. Leia knew Aunt Martha had been embarrassed, and the old woman had even taken Leia aside when they got home to discuss her physical status.

  "This is very personal, Leah," Martha had said, picking up her sewing. "Could it be that you are carrying a child? Feeling light headed and sick to the stomach are definite signs, you know."

  Leia was surprised by the question, but recovered, remembering Martha thought her recently widowed. "Why, no. That's not possible. It has been a very long time since..." Leia had let her voice trail off, not finishing the indelicate sentence. She didn't want to even imply such a thing could be possible and subject herself to some kind of barbaric medical examination. If anyone knew she was really a virgin, they'd know she wasn't cousin Leah from Baltimore, and Leia knew enough about history to know she couldn't afford to be cast out homeless in the midst of the Civil War. That could have worse consequences than risking her virginity to just anyone in the twentieth century. Aunt Martha had seemed to believe her, and told her to go upstairs and rest before dinner...and wasn't it ironic that a twentieth-century virgin, an oddity from her sixteenth birthday forward, had traveled one hundred and thirty years into the past to become an oddity again, in the most conservative of times, for that very same reason.

  Leia then began to worry about the real Leah showing up. What would happen then? There had to be a way back to the future, and Leia had to start looking. After dinner, she'd go down to the cellar again. She shivered. She remembered sitting cross-legged just outside the cellar door many times when she was young, waiting for something to happen, but now she'd have to ignore the prickly fear and search for a door back. After all, this whole mess had started when she had left the basement through the wrong door, hadn't it?

  Chapter 3

  "Leah, are you well enough to come down for dinner?" MaryKatherine's sweet voice followed her knock on the door.

  "Yes, thank you. I'll be right down." Leia swiped away the few stray tears she had shed in a moment of self-pity. At least I don't have to worry about my mascara smudging, she thought wryly. She checked her reflection in a yellowing mirror on her bureau, and smiled at the cloudy, distorted image. When she joined MaryKatherine in the hall, she was no more sure of her appearance than when she had started fussing.

  "Do I look, um, presentable?"

  "You look beautiful, Leah. Just like your mother," the girl replied, taking Leia's arm as they went down the curving staircase.

  How could I look like Leah's mother? And does that mean I look like the real Leah? "When did you last see my mother, MaryKatherine?"

  "Oh, several years ago. Aunt Caroline came to a birthday party here, without you, I believe. Do you remember the time you broke your leg riding? It must have been then. It is wonderful that you don't have a lame leg now," she said, as they entered the dining room.

  So she's my cousin. Thank God Leah had broken her leg that year and never arrived, Leia thought, taking her seat. Or it might not have been so easy for them to assume I was her.

  Leia stayed lost in her own thoughts through most of the meal. She only barely noticed the baked chicken, the potatoes and corn dishes. She did enjoy the apple dumplings, savoring the sweet, puffy pastry and realized that the war had not effected the food supply in the McGarland house...at least not as far as she could tell, from a 1990's viewpoint. She joined the conversation when she heard MaryKatherine mention Belle's name.

  "Will Belle be staying with us again?" Leia was uneasy including herself in 'us.'

  "Oh, I don't believe so," Aunt Martha answered.

  Leia saw Brant squirm in his chair, adorably, eyes fixed on his dumpling.

  "We thought Belle was becoming sweet on Brant," MaryKatherine explained. "But after spending a few days, she just disappeared."

  "Which is just as well, young lady. We don't know anything about that girl's family. It was totally unsuitable for her to show interest in Brant," said Martha, clucking her tongue.

  "Where did you meet her?" Leia asked. She was pleased that some other female was raising more eyebrows than she was. Maybe this Belle was a time-traveler?

  "I met her at school last year. She's from Martinsburg, and was traveling to visit relatives when she stopped here. You know, Leah, more than a few soldiers and the like have stopped here on their way to Pennsylvania. Always be careful, but don't be startled if you see strangers here, coming or going."

  Leia knew all about their abundance of strangers since she was one herself.

  "It was not proper for a young lady of any quality to be traveling alone," Martha said.

  "But I traveled here alone," Leia said, her voice soft...Really alone.

  "You are a widow," Martha replied, as if that should have been obvious.

  "But it was no less dangerous for Leah to come here alone. Soldiers and stragglers are everywhere. Her bags were stolen, remember. She could have been hurt, or worse," Brant said, and looked across the wide table at Leia. Hi
s gaze seemed to capture hers for a moment, and she couldn't look away. He folded his hands under his strong chin and let his gaze meet hers. The depth of the brown eyes made Leia keep looking, seeking the bottom of a never-ending well. His cheekbones were so strongly sculpted that when he wasn't smiling, his face appeared to be almost grimacing. With her eyes she caressed his nose, feeling its straight and long plane, his lips ...Leia felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she recalled their intimate moment in the garden.

  When his stern expression melted into a knowing smile, she blushed more. The conversation had stumbled around the table, and the three diners not remembering the garden were watching Leia and Brant.

  "May I join you?" Brant entered the library without waiting for an answer.

  "Of course," Leia said, not turning to face him. Instead her attention was riveted to the long wall of books opposite the fireplace. She ran her fingers lightly over several of the leather volumes, almost reverently. "These are beautiful books."

  "Yes, they are," he agreed, "but not as beautiful as you." He was standing behind her when she turned to face him, a forest green covered book in her hands. She smiled at his choice of words, rather corny to the ears of a twentieth century woman. From Brant, they sounded sweet.

  "Thank you, Brant. Have you read this?" She held up the book's spine that displayed the title: 'Tale of Two Cities,' by Charles Dickens.

  "Yes, actually, my teacher required it a few years ago. Would you like me to tell you about it?"

  "I've read it, too. Thanks," Leia said, and enjoyed his surprised expression. She set the book on the nearby desk and walked to the fireplace. Despite the June heat, many parts of the large house were chilly and damp. She touched the cherry mantle, which reminded her of the last house she had appraised. Its smooth surface was polished to reflect the images of the objects it held. A vase, a blown-glass bowl, a silver candlestick and a hammered metal snuffer decorated the special shelf. Leia took the bowl down to inspect it closely.