Holiday in the Heart Page 14

  Robyne ran her hand down the shelves as she looked through the toy section. She discarded the idea of board games, metal toy trains and the like. Most of her kids had poor motor skills. A couple of dolls, dressed not unlike Catherine, caught her eye, but just as quickly she returned them to the shelves when she saw their poor quality.

  After half an hour, getting frustrated, she shuffled through the kitchen aisle. She considered a display of teacups. Maybe the girls would like to play tea party? Taking a second look, she saw the cups were cracked and let out a sigh. Maybe the dollar store wasn’t the place to look for Christmas gifts after all.

  The bell above the door rang as another customer entered. The open door let the wind in, and a rush of evergreen-scented air wafted over Robyne. She closed her eyes, breathing in the energizing scent of Christmas.

  When she looked again, she saw a Christmas cracker on the shelf below the teacups. Perfect! All you had to do with a cracker was pull the ends apart, and then you got a satisfying boom and the toys or other goodies tucked inside. Please let there be more than one.

  The light didn’t reach into the lower shelves very well. Robyne thought she felt the shiny paper of additional crackers as she reached down. Her hand only grasped one dusty object. She blew on it, and a spray of dust filled the air. When the dust settled, it revealed a surprisingly ornate multi-color design of red, yellow and blue.

  She blew again. This time the central image on the cracker was revealed, a charming little world. Giving it an experimental shake, she was disappointed when nothing rattled inside. Maybe it wasn’t any good, or had something boring like a paper hat in it?

  Trying to think of other gift ideas, she tugged absently at the two ends of the item in her hands. Boom! A large explosion knocked Robyne backwards, and the world around her dimmed.

  ~*~

  As Robyne regained consciousness, she felt a hard, curved surface behind her, like a pipe. Dusky light concealed much of her surroundings and a bitter wind stung her cheeks. Above her, she found an iron lamppost glowing dimly. With a bit of concentration things came into focus. She sat at the end of a street of sinister looking buildings. Fog swirled around her, bringing with it the acrid scent of coal. She sneezed and shivered. Where was she? How had she gotten outside? As she hurriedly tugged her mittens out of her coat pockets and put them on, she remembered the loud noise she’d heard.

  She reached into her pocket again. Shock rippled through her as she pulled out the cracker. Still intact despite the explosion, the colors shimmered in the fog, making the toy appear alive. The pattern on one end coalesced, and she saw it formed a lamppost, just like the one behind her. Shaken, she fumbled the cracker and dropped it. She crouched to retrieve it, shoving it into her pocket for safekeeping. When she looked up, a pair of legs encased in dark plaid trousers stood in front of her. Male legs.

  “What the devil have we here?” A large hand encased in a leather glove reached down to help her stand. Though not tall, the man loomed over her. She noted sleepy eyes, a sharp nose and wide mouth, with a thick chestnut moustache completing his handsome face.

  “Thanks,” she gasped through chattering teeth.

  “What’s a lad like you doing out at dusk? You’re much too clean to be a street urchin.”

  He had a low voice, one that relaxed her at some elemental level.

  But...a lad? Robyne looked down at herself. Did he mistake her sex because she wore black corduroy pants?

  “What are you doing out in the evening air?” she countered, reluctant to reveal too much to a stranger.

  “Cheeky, aren’t you.” The man tilted his head. Now she could see the top hat he wore. He appeared to be wearing the male equivalent of Catherine’s clothing, and smelled like cigar smoke.

  “Why are you dressed like that?” she asked. “Are you on your way to a party?”

  He chuckled. “There’s little else for me to do in Victoriana.”

  “Victoriana?”

  “Yes. You are visiting from elsewhere?”

  “I guess,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t know how I ended up here.”

  He nodded. “This, I have heard before.”

  Despite her mittens, she shivered uncontrollably. “It’s awfully cold.”

  His tone became doleful. “It’s always December now.”

  “What?”

  “There are rules, you know. And our scientists broke them.”

  Feeling thoroughly confused, she began to wonder if she’d hit her head harder than she’d originally thought. “What rules?”

  “As a visitor from elsewhere, you won’t have heard of the Big Bang theory?”

  “The one about how the universe was created?”

  “No, the one that states it will take a big bang to get time started again. Some madman of science was experimenting three years ago and broke time. It’s been December 17th ever since.” His tone was so matter of fact, and the past hours had been so strange, she almost believed him.

  “So it’s always winter until time is fixed?”

  “Yes. And the solution has to come from the outside. You see, the theory states there are many earths, many versions you might say, and we don’t have the tools inside our version to fix our problem.”

  “I see. The outside?” Robyne said, thinking of the big bang that got her here. It hadn’t made winter vanish, though.

  Through the fog, she saw the man’s teeth flash under his moustache as he smiled.

  “Yes, the other places. As I said, this is Victoriana. Where do you come from?”

  Robyne blinked. “Tacoma, Washington—umm, America?”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced. I am Edward, Earl of Chester.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she said automatically. “I’m Robyne Arthur.”

  He took her hand in his. His light touch could hardly be felt through her thick Christmas mitten, but her hand tingled nonetheless.

  “So you are a lass,” he said as he straightened. “From outside.”

  “It appears so,” she agreed.

  “And you have nowhere to go, being a stranger?”

  “No.” She sniffed. “I’m afraid to leave this spot.” She gestured. “The lamppost.”

  “I know where we are,” the earl said, flashing his teeth again. “Why don’t we get you out of this cold air, and I’ll bring you back to this lamppost tomorrow.”

  Robyne thought. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Have you a better option?”

  She sighed. “Will my money be any good here? I’d prefer to go to a public place, like a hotel.”

  He shook his head. “I think not.”

  She bit her lip. His air of command was unnerving, and these foggy streets had her thinking of Sherlock Holmes and Jack the Ripper. She didn’t think she should trust him, and yet, what choice did she have? At least he seemed to be kind.

  “I guess I have to count on you then.”

  “I assure you, you don’t want to be out on these streets at night. The wealthy and poor are mixed in among each other. A footpad or worse could accost you at any step. You are lucky I came upon you when I did.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Robyne muttered, but took the arm he offered. She noted he was careful to stay on the street side as they walked along, his walking stick tapping the way.

  She counted off seven streets before they arrived in front of a metal gate. They hadn’t gone in a straight line, but she tried to remember their route. She didn’t know what she might find when she returned to the lamppost where she woke, even so, it was her only tie to home.

  ~*~

  Robyne hadn’t seen the outside of the house in the gloom, but the inside was palatial, even fancier than what she imagined a five-star hotel would look like. A uniformed maid, who raised her eyebrows when she espied Robyne’s manner of dress, brought in a tea tray. Robyne sat next to a blazing fire in a wood-paneled study.

  She felt like she’d dropped onto
a movie set. So far, she hadn’t seen any sign of electricity. Sconces on the wall had flames behind them–gas, she supposed. This place was called Victoriana. Did that mean it was December 17th sometime in the nineteenth century on this version of Earth? And how had she come to be in England? She was certainly a long way from Tacoma.

  Considering, Robyne pulled the Christmas cracker from her pocket. Her sole intent that afternoon had been to find gifts for her kids. Now this toy was her only link to home. Who would drive her bus tomorrow if she didn’t make it back? She ran her finger across the lamppost design on the wrapping, and now noticed the next set of intricate squiggles and swirls looked like a building, perhaps the one she was in now. Could the cracker be a map?

  The double doors opened, and the earl strode in, magnificent in his long coat. She’d always loved the look of a man with a luxurious moustache. His polished boots gleamed in the candlelight thrown by the tall candelabra by the door. She sighed, wishing men as attractive and courteous as he existed in her world.

  As he came closer, he smiled at her, then suddenly froze a few paces away.

  “What, my, uh, Lord Chester?” Robyne stammered, not liking the expression of shock on his face.

  “Where did you get that?” He pointed a shaking finger at her lap.

  She looked down at the cracker. “It’s what brought me here, I think. I was playing with it at a store, there was a loud bang, and then I woke here.”

  He reached out a hand to her, his eyes eagerly fixed on the toy. With a protective feeling, Robyne tucked the cracker into her pocket.

  “I need that.” His tone offered no room for argument.

  “So do I,” she said, attempting to stand. The plush chair proved difficult to get out of, and the earl held out a hand to steady her as she got to her feet. She shrank from his touch.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice softened immediately.

  “You’re making me nervous.” She took a step away from him. Unfortunately, his solid form, the chair and the fire blocked her. She was trapped.

  “I’m angry at myself for not recognizing a traveler might have the solution to our problem. Of course you might. How do travelers arrive here? It makes sense someone like you would carry our salvation.” He trailed off.

  “I hope what I’m carrying is my ticket home.” Robyne pulled the cracker from her pocket, knowing there was no escape any other way. She would pull it apart again.

  “Please!” He held out his hand. “I beseech you, do not do this!”

  “Why not?” Robyne hated the quiver she heard in her voice. “I need to go home. I have a job—and my children.”

  “You have children?” His voice immediately calmed as he tilted his head.

  “They aren’t mine, exactly, but I work with them. They need me.”

  “The family can find another governess.”

  Robyne decided not to press the point. She held the edges of the cracker with her fingers.

  She saw the shock in the earl’s face; almost saw his brain at work behind his eyes.

  “Miss Arthur, you must be tired from your labors with those children.” His voice held an air of desperation.

  Suspicious, she held the paper’s edge, but didn’t tug.

  “Wouldn’t you like to rest?” He waved his hand. “Here, in these pleasant surroundings? No one will disturb you. You could regain your energy in comfort for a few days. Surely no one would deny you this. Your travel here, the ordeal you suffered. You should rest.”

  Robyne yawned despite herself. She was tired, but how could she trust him? Of course, she hadn’t had a vacation in years. Of course his home was luxurious, and of course she could never expect to be in such beauty again. You’d have to be a billionaire to live like this. Or a king. If she didn’t stay vigilant, someone might steal the cracker. Even Lord Chester might steal it, though she didn’t want to believe he’d be capable of it, that he’d stoop to such lengths to obtain something belonging to another.

  “I don’t trust you,” she said finally, belying her thoughts.

  “I have given you no reason to question my integrity. My sister is here visiting, so you will be chaperoned. I assure you I am no seducer of innocents.”

  “I’m more worried about thievery than seduction,” she snapped.

  He chuckled. “Miss Arthur, I am a man of honor. You and your cracker are safe, far safer here than on the streets late at night. We will have a truce on the issue until morning.”

  “What of the others here? Will they steal it?”

  He shook his head. “No one but me knows your secret. On my honor, it will be safe.”

  In the firelight, she could see his green eyes. Her father, who’d died in the line of duty in a warehouse fire, had the same eye color. For this inconsequential reason, she decided to trust the earl and tucked the cracker away.

  “Be careful with it,” he cautioned. “You hold life in your hands.”

  “My life,” she said softly, but he’d turned away and she doubted he’d heard.

  ~*~

  The next morning, Robyne woke to the sound of a tea tray clattering, as a maid brought it to her bedside. What luxury, she thought, then remembered the reason for her excellent night’s sleep on a fat feather bed—the too handsome, too controlling Lord Chester.

  “Good morning, miss,” said the maid cheerfully. “I ‘ope you ‘ad a good night’s sleep.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Robyne said carefully. She struggled to sit up. The maid swiftly moved to her side and plumped her pillows.

  “Do you need anything else?” the maid enquired. “I’ve stirred the coal, so the fire should be nice and toasty soon.”

  Robyne asked the question most concerning her. “Is it true it’s always winter here?”

  “Why, miss, it’s always December 17th ‘ereabouts.”

  So he’s honest, at least. Every day here, December 17th started over. “Is your master a good person?”

  “Oh, ‘e’s the best, ‘e is. Kind as the day is long, if not especially a gentle man. But you can’t expect such as ‘im to be. A good soul, though, cor blimey,” she exclaimed.

  Robyne opened her mouth to ask more, but the maid turned away as a knock sounded at the door.

  It opened and a chubby, brunette teenage girl entered the room, dressed in a bustled black gown with ornate embroidery around the sleeves and hem. The maid curtseyed.

  “Hello, Miss Arthur, my brother asked me to check on you.”

  “Thank you, Miss...?”

  “Lenchen,” the girl said. “Just Lenchen.”

  “All right,” Robyne said. “I’m just getting up. I don’t know what I should wear.”

  “I’ve clothing for you, miss,” the maid said with a newly timid air.

  “I shall see you in the dining hall in an hour, then?” Lenchen queried.

  Robyne nodded and smiled. Unlike her strong-willed and authoritative brother, Lenchen seemed reserved. Robyne was never at her best with people so sure of themselves as the earl. How did they come by their assurance?

  An hour later, Robyne went downstairs, moving slowly in the heavy dress and corset the maid had helped her into. The food on the sideboard didn’t excite her. It all looked so heavy after her delicious tea and toast with marmalade upstairs. Lenchen had clearly tucked away a great deal of food, however, and was wiping her mouth as Robyne walked in.

  With the heavy dress, and heavy food, not to mention the weather outside, Robyne started to wonder if she really needed a vacation after all. It was time to say her goodbyes and get back to her kids. Then she saw him.

  The earl stood at the sideboard. Her heart gave a funny leap as she viewed his elegance in dark formal attire. Good grief, did she have a crush on the man? That was no good—she was going home. Soon, this would be nothing but a memory. Already, she knew she would regret saying goodbye.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Are we going to the lamppost?” Robyne was glad he kept his word, but sorry he was willing t
o let her go so easily. “Shouldn’t I wear my own clothes?”

  He smiled slightly. “You will draw less attention this way.”

  Robyne saw the truth in that, but patted the pocket that held the cracker anyway. Didn’t they have pickpockets in Victorian England?

  Another maid helped them bundle into outdoor garments. Lenchen, a footman and the maid came along behind them.

  Robyne enjoyed the crisp air, even if the smell of coal hung heavy. At least there was some daylight to war against the cold. As they meandered through a market area she didn’t remember from the night before, she saw an amazing cross-section of nineteenth century life. Stalls were available with all manner of goods–meats, pies, goats and cows for milk. Most shop people looked tired, as if they hadn’t rested well. Her heart caught in her throat when she saw a little boy with a crutch, so like Tiny Tim in Dickens’ tale. And there were girls selling matchsticks, too, their eyes huge in too thin faces. Robyne scrambled in her pockets, but of course she had no money to give them.

  “I used to come here for flowers,” Lenchen remarked. “Of course, there’s none now, with the winter always upon us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Robyne said. She felt bad, though wasn’t sure why exactly, until she realized she felt guilty. But why should she? She couldn’t know if the cracker really would restart time, and she needed it to get back home.

  “Sad, isn’t it?” the earl remarked, giving her a significant look.

  Robyne pursed her lips, trying to remain strong against all these sorrowful children. “We don’t seem to be heading toward the lamppost.”

  The earl took her arm, pulled it into the crook of his elbow. Her resolve melted at his touch. “I thought you might like to see the city a little.”

  “I suppose.” She slowed her steps and leaned slightly into his warmth.

  Their party promenaded down the main thorough-fare. Men in top hats like the earl’s greeted them with slight bows as they walked down this more prosperous avenue. Robyne recognized the Gothic edifice of Westminster Abbey across the street as they entered a large building.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “This is St. George’s Hospital.”

  “Why are we here?”