Page 54 of The Hazardous Measure of Love
I began to feel really peculiar. The room was swimming and there was a buzzing in my ears and, finally, I understood. Whatever force it was that moved me through time was trying to send me back,now. Why, when Luc needed me as never before, I could not fathom, but this was not something I could control. If I fought it I had no idea what might happen or where I would end up.
There were two footmen in the hallway. ‘Run and fetch Pettit, now,’ I ordered one of them. ‘And you go to his lordship, tell him I have to leave.Run.’
I held on to the doorframe as though that might anchor me and then Pettitcame, cap ribbons flying.
‘Go in to Lady Radcliffe. Don’t leave her until his lordship comes. I have to go.’
Somehow I got up the stairs, bouncing from one side to another like a drunk. I staggered down the corridor, through the door into Lady Radcliffe’s dressing room and up to the long cheval glass with the original of Luc’s portrait miniature hanging beside it. The glass was already cloudy and gave as I touched it. I stepped through, the wind seized me and I was spinning away.
I fell onto my own sofa which was a pleasant change from my usual crash-landing on the floor. That seemed to be about the only good news. Trubshaw plodded up, peered at me and expressed feline disapproval of life in general and me in particular, then marched back to the kitchen.
Eventually I sat up, mopped my eyes, told myself that Luc would know I couldn’t control this and also that it was a long way from Whitebeams to Welhampstead and that, even if he sent a messenger with news immediately, I couldn’t expect to have a delivery from the solicitors’ office for at least forty-eight hours.
I had seen pictures of the twins when they were older, I reminded myself as I sorted myself out, had a shower, made a fuss of Trubshaw and then fell into bed and slept the clock round.
* * *
Time passed and messages arrived. Matthew had pneumonia, Lady Radcliffe was conscious, but was desperately weak and unable to stand or walk. Luc understood and knew I would come back as soon as my personal black hole permitted me to.
But it showed no sign of working and, a month later, I was still firmly in my own time, a little cheered by the messages from the past, but very confused about why I could not return. Matthew was getting better, but still had a worrying cough and little appetite. Lady Radcliffe continued to give Luc sleepless nights. I can’t say I was sleeping well either.
Then I realised that something was not right with me, either, and that was the point where my world turned upside down.
* * *
By the middle of October the bulletins from Luc, delivered by Frank Ponsonby, were more encouraging. Matthew had benefitted from a month at the seaside and Lady Radcliffe was able to stand and walk a few steps with a stick.
What poor Frank thought about me snatching these mysterious envelopes out of his hand on a regular basis, I didn’t know until one day, in late November, when I had ripped one open in front of him and it was all good news and I burst into tears, he guided me back into the living room and sat me down.
‘You don’t have to tell me about it,’ he said. ‘But Welhampstead has some uncanny features, I’ve discovered. I’ve been reading the diaries that my ancestors who were in the firm have left and, frankly, very little would surprise me.’
I blew my nose and eyed him cautiously. ‘What, exactly, do you mean?’
‘Just that I am guessing you might be something of an expert on the early nineteenth century,’ he said. ‘And it isn’t only you: there’s a house in town that is… strange. But don’t tell me any secrets, I just wanted you to know I am making sure there’s no speculation about your boxes and envelopes.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. I would have thought that Frank was the most down to earth, stolid type you could imagine, not someone who could take the possibility of time travel for granted. ‘The thing that had been worrying me – it is all right now.’
‘Just the one thing?’ he asked quizzically.
‘Definitely,’ I said stoutly. But it wasn’t just the one thing. I had no way of communicating with Luc and he, clearly, did not feel it was safe to leave his family yet. What if he never did? What if he saw how frail his mother was now and decided that he must marry again, give the twins a proper mother? Forget me and our hopeless situation?
I surfaced from my back hole to find Frank making a pot of tea. ‘Mr Grimswade has been telling me what a help you are being to him.’
Aristotle Grimswade, the delightful elderly owner of St Christopher Antiques was becoming increasingly frail, so I spent as much time with him as I could, helping him send things to live auctions and also putting some stock up on on-line sites.
‘Just don’t sell the bear,’ I had begged him. I was very fond of the vast and ancient stuffed bear that had greeted me (or so I’d thought) when I had first entered the shop. ‘One day I want to buy that.’
‘Where are you going to put it?’ he’d asked. ‘Not in your flat, surely?’
‘No,’ I’d agreed. That would be far too small. In fact, I needed to move, but not until Luc had come back to my time. I hated that he had no idea why I had not returned to him, that he might think I had deserted him, and the risk of him not being able to locate me if I moved was enough to stop me even looking at new homes on-line.
If he comes back,the horrible, negative voice in my head kept muttering.You need him, but he isn’t here. You’ll have to get used to managing by yourself.
* * *
Of course, when Luc did come back it was typical of us, involving loud bangs and shrieks – anything but romantic, in fact.
It was a Wednesday morning. Trubshaw was being particularly bloody-minded and was refusing the new (and expensive) cat food that I had bought him. He complained loudly, then retreated to the sofa to sulk and shed all over it. The cover was, of course, just back from the dry cleaner.
