An Earl In Time Page 5

  He rubbed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Did he have it in him to get up and be around the servants and pretend nothing was unusual, or should he stay in bed and wait for tomorrow? He’d spent many days in bed. Just waiting for the next day. A day that would be just like this one. The endless loop of time where he and the servants never aged.

  The servants didn’t realize they were in this state of limbo. They thought no time had passed. For them, yesterday was June 16 and tomorrow would be June 18.

  June 16 had been so long ago that Julian could barely remember what happened. All he recalled was that he’d received a missive that told him the curse would begin at midnight. At the time, he had laughed and threw the parchment into the fire. What a silly thing, he’d thought. Curses. Who believed in such things?

  A little over two hundred years later, he was no longer laughing. He wished he’d kept that missive. There were other sentences written on it, but he couldn’t remember them. All he recalled was the thing about the curse because he’d thought it was so ludicrous.

  A lot of his past had slipped away from him over the years as well. The longer he lived, the harder it was to remember much of anything.

  There was a knock on his door. That was the valet.

  With a reluctant sigh, he sat up and forced himself to get out of bed. He trudged to the door and opened it. As expected, the valet was there.

  Before his valet could ask what he wanted to wear and if he wanted a shave, Julian said, “I think I’ll take a bath this morning. Then I’ll dress.”

  The valet nodded and headed down the hall.

  Julian closed the door. The only time the servants did anything different was if he instructed them to do something different. Otherwise, the valet would have come in and helped him find a suitable outfit for his morning’s ride.

  Julian did recall taking a ride on his stallion that morning all those years ago. Even though there was a light rain, he had wanted to check on the newly planted shrubs and trees that were in front of the property. He had thought the dirt path leading to and away from the bridge had been barren. He’d spent most of his life looking at it and thinking it made the front of the property seem drab. Some trees and shrubs would give the place more appeal. Little did he know he’d never see the things grow.

  He set out his grooming supplies on his vanity. Even though he had left them there the previous day, they always returned to the drawer. Everything returned to the way it’d been that first July 17th morning. It was as if someone took the hands on a clock and wound them back, and when that happened, all of the things in his estate returned to their original position.

  He’d made a significant mess all through the manor over the centuries just to see what would happen. His servants were appalled by what they referred to as his strange outbursts. They been especially bewildered when he’d refused to let the maids clean anything. But when he woke up the next morning, everything was clean and the maids had no idea he’d shocked them so terribly by intentionally ruining things.

  Today, he wouldn’t ruin anything. He’d just treat it like any other day. He’d like to pretend it was June 16 or June 18. Just to have any other day than June 17 would be wonderful.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He slowly released it and looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Isn’t it funny that you’re over 200 years old, but you haven’t aged a bit?” It was a joke he told himself once in a while.

  This morning, however, it did nothing to lighten his mood. He didn’t feel like riding his horse, either. He glanced out the window. The rain gently pattering outside would grow stronger later in the day, but there wouldn’t be a downpour. It would just be a continual rainfall through the entire day.

  The groundskeeper would find a crack in the gazebo and fix it. The butler would bring Julian a tray of tea and crumpets in the middle of the day but drop it. No matter what room he was in or what Julian had to eat or drink, the butler would drop it. The maid would clean it up. The only way to prevent that was to tell the butler he’d wait until dinner to eat or drink anything. Then, after dinner, the maid would tell Julian the grandfather clock stopped working.

  Julian rubbed his eyes again. Did he have it in him to go through all of this again? Maybe he’d be better off staying in bed and not having anything to eat or drink.

  There was another knock at the door. That would be the maids and his valet with the tub and pails of hot water.

  He put on his robe then called out for them to enter. He stood to the side as they put the tub by the window and filled it.

  The younger maid put a chair on the left side of the tub and put the folded towel and a bar of soap on it. She turned to him. “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

  He shook his head. One time he had yelled at her, just to see if she would remember how mean he’d been to her the day before. But she hadn’t. None of the servants ever remembered anything cruel or obnoxious he’d said and done over the years. And at this point, he was so exhausted, he didn’t even care about how aloof he seemed. All he wanted was for June 18 to come.

  They left the bedroom, and after he washed up, he soaked in the tub until the water got too cold for him to tolerate anymore.

  He summoned the valet, and he chose a somber gray color to wear to go with the drab mood he was in. Then he requested the shave.

  Downstairs, the poached eggs, peaches, and crumpets would be waiting for him. He could request a different refreshment or dinner, but Cook always served the same breakfast. That was because Cook never remembered it when he requested something different in the evening before he relieved Cook of his duties for the night.

  After the valet left, Julian wondered what he should do that day to occupy his time. He’d read every single book in the place more times than he cared to admit. He’d ridden his horse to the point of not wanting to ever ride a horse ever again. He’d taken walks. He’d even taken over the servants’ tasks on numerous occasions. He wasn’t sure what he ought to do that day that would give him a single spark of excitement.

  Maybe he’d just walk aimlessly through the entire place again.

  He left his bedchamber and started to turn in the direction that would take him to the staircase when something different caught his attention.

  Something different?

  He had to stop and give the hallway a careful study before he realized what had changed.

  It was the strange painting on the wall next to his bedchamber, which was at the end of the hall. It was taller than him, and it stopped just above his ankles. It was the dullest thing he’d ever seen. It was just an image of a white sheet. He had touched it a couple of times, but it was hard to the touch. It made him think of a mirror. But it wasn’t a mirror because it didn’t reflect him or anything in the hallway back at him. All it showed him was that crumpled white sheet covering. He’d ordered the servants to remove it, have it painted over, and even break it. But it always came back the next day. He’d long since given up on it.

  Today, however, there was no image of that sheet. Instead, he saw his hallway. He was nowhere in the image, but everything else in the hallway was. He walked closer to it, his heart leaping with hope for the first time since he could remember.

  Different was good. Different had to be good. Different had to mean, he was about to finally be rid of June 17, 1817.

  Upon closer inspection, he realized that sunlight was coming in through the hall in the painting. He turned and looked behind him. It was still raining out. There was not a trace of sunlight in the sky.

  How was it possible that he was looking at his own hallway, but it was different on his side of the painting?

  It wasn’t a painting. It was something else.

  He hesitated for a moment but reached up and tapped the thing. He felt glass. He always felt glass. That wasn’t unusual. But the image behind that glass was new.

  He put his hand up to the glass and pressed his palm into it.

  Nothing happened.

&n
bsp; He touched it with his other hand, and nothing happened.

  With a frown, he glanced around the hall. He knew he was looking at a reflection of his hall, but this hadn’t been there before. So, what did it mean?

  On impulse, he went to his bedchamber and brought the chair out into the hall. The hallway in the painting-like object didn’t show the chair, either.

  He didn’t know what to make of it. He was sure this change had to mean something. He had to spend the day figuring this out. Who knew if this anomaly would happen a second time?

  He returned the chair to his bedchamber just as the maids and butler came in to take the tub.

  “What day is it?” he asked the butler.

  “It’s Tuesday, my lord,” the butler said.

  “What’s the date?” Julian clarified.

  “June 17.”

  “And the year?”

  The butler’s eyebrows furrowed. “1817, my lord. Are you feeling all right?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  For a moment, Julian had entertained the idea that he’d been wrong about it being June 17, 1817. He’d actually thought it might be another day. But that didn’t mean all hope was lost. The difference in that object in the hall had never happened before. That had to be significant. It had to mean something.

  He left the bedchamber and went back to it. Granted, this wasn’t a painting, but it had to be something.

  He heard the butler and maids leave his room, so he watched to see if he could see their reflection. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t see himself, either. It was as if they didn’t exist. And yet the hallway did.

  “Will you come downstairs to eat?” the butler asked him.

  He was tempted to tell the butler to bring his meal up here, but since nothing was happening in the strange painting-like object, he decided to follow the others down the stairs.

  ***

  After he ate, Julian came back up to the hallway. Nothing had changed in the painting-like object, but in case something happened, he decided it was worth spending the entire day watching it. He retrieved a chair from his bedchamber and sat in front of the object.

  It appeared to be a reflection of his hallway, but it definitely wasn’t. The clouds still cast his hallway in the shadows. On the other side, the sun made the duplicate hallway bright.

  He would wait here and see if other differences emerged. He didn’t know what he was going to do when they did. Would it change his situation?

  Probably not.

  He’d probably still be stuck in this day for many more years to come. For all he knew, this was his eternal future. He might never be free from the curse that bound him here.

  But today, for the first time in two centuries, he had noticed something different. And that had to mean something. It had to be important.

  At exactly 1:35, the butler came up with the tray of tea and crumpets. Julian couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to tell the butler not to bring that to him today. The butler stumbled in the hall, and the teapot and plate of crumpets fell to the floor.

  Julian mouthed the words, “Oh, I-I’m terribly sorry,” as the butler spoke them aloud.

  The butler hurried to collect the teapot before all the tea spread further on the floor. Julian hesitated to get up and help him. What if something happened in that other hallway?

  After a moment, he prayed nothing would change and helped the butler gather the crumpets.

  “I don’t know what came over me,” the butler said. “I think it’s been one of those days. I keep dropping things.”

  “It’s all right. It can be cleaned up.” Julian finished putting everything on the tray and took the cloth that was dangling on the side of the tray. No matter what, that cloth always managed to remain clean. He wiped his hands on it and tossed it back on the tray. “I’ll summon the maid. You should sit and rest.”

  The butler offered another apology and hurried back downstairs.

  Julian pulled the cord on his bedchamber wall then ran back to the painting-like object.

  Except for more sunlight coming into the other hallway, nothing looked different.

  He didn’t know if that was good or not. He only had until midnight for something to happen. When he woke up tomorrow, the original painting of the sheet might be back.

  Midnight. He pulled out his pocket watch. That gave him ten and a half hours left in this particular version of June 17. He might not get another chance to see this.

  He tucked the pocket watch back into his pocket and returned to the chair.

  The maid came up and cleaned what he and the butler hadn’t been able to get. He hesitated to ask her what she saw in the other hallway, but since she wouldn’t remember this conversation tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter if she thought the question was absurd.

  Turning to her, he asked, “What do you see over there?” He pointed to the object.

  She looked up from the rag she’d just put into the bucket. “It’s a mirror.”

  “It can’t be a mirror. Our reflections aren’t in it.”

  “It has to be a mirror. There’s nothing beyond the wall it’s hanging on.”

  He stood up and walked up to the object. “Do you see me in there?”

  She furrowed her eyebrows.

  He waved his hand in front of the object.

  She gasped.

  No, she didn’t see him. So he wasn’t imagining things. There was something strange going on.

  “The manor ends at that wall,” she said as she slowly walked over to him. “The hall can’t continue on that way.” She gave it a light tap and relaxed. “Just as I thought. The hallway isn’t continuing on past this thing. It’s a painting.”

  “But paintings don’t change,” he replied. “Earlier today, there was less light in there. Now there’s more.”

  “Light?”

  “The sunlight. It’s more pronounced. If you come back up in a couple of hours, I’m sure it’ll look different. That,” for lack of a better word, he said, “thing changes. It doesn’t stay the same. A painting stays the same.”

  After a moment, she shrugged. “I’m just a maid. You’re the one who has a proper education. If you say it’s not a painting, I believe you.”

  He frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. She thought he was wrong. “Come back at five. I’ll show you it’s different.”

  He could tell she didn’t want to come back, but out of her duty to obey him, she offered a nod before she picked up the bucket and went back down the stairs.

  He sat back in the chair and continued his vigil.

  Chapter Six

  Julian didn’t realize he had dozed off until he almost fell off the chair. He hurried to straighten up and looked at the other hallway. The lighting had changed, but nothing else was different. He took his pocket watch out. It was 4:50.

  How long had he nodded off? Had anything of consequence happened while he wasn’t paying attention? He had been careful to only relieve his bladder when it was absolutely necessary, and he’d gone as quickly as possible in order to return here. From what he could see, everything remained the same except the amount of sunlight coming into that hallway.

  This might lead to nothing. It was very possible that this whole endeavor might come up as empty as everything else he’d done for two centuries.

  With a heavy sigh, he slipped the pocket watch back into his pocket.

  He heard footsteps behind him and spun around in time to see the maid who’d cleaned the floor earlier that day.

  “You asked me to come here at five, my lord?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He jumped up from the chair and went to the thing that separated him from the other hallway. “Do you remember the position of the sun earlier today in here?” He tapped the glass.

  Despite the apprehensive expression on her face, she approached the thing and took a good look at it. “It’s hard to tell, but I think it might have changed a little.”

  “I thought so,” he whispered, glad that he wasn’t the o
nly one who noticed it.

  “What can this thing possibly be if it’s not a painting?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s something important.” He tapped the glass again. It was solid. He wasn’t going to get in there.

  The maid took another good look at it and shrugged. “Whoever painted it must have used unusual paints and an unusual canvas. It has to be a trick. No painting is alive. It doesn’t really change. It’s like a magician at a show. When I was a girl, I saw him do all sorts of tricks that seemed real. They were only illusions. This thing has to be like that.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was saying that for his benefit or for hers. If he hadn’t been aware they’d all been reliving the same day for two centuries, he’d be inclined to give a reasonable explanation for this strange object, too.

  But, unfortunately, he had the misfortune of being aware of every single day for the past two centuries. He could not give this thing a rational explanation. This had something with the touch of something outside of reason attached to it.

  “Is there anything else you require of me?” the maid asked.

  He shook his head. “No. You may go.”

  As she left, he returned to his chair.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  An hour later, the butler came up. “My lord, dinner is ready.”

  Despite the fact that Julian was hungry, he couldn’t leave this spot. “I’m not going to the dining room. I’m going to stay here.”

  “Would you like me to bring your dinner up here?”

  Julian shook his head. “I’ll be all right.”

  The butler left, and once more, Julian was alone.

  Another hour passed, and Julian had to light some candles and set them on the floor along the hallway. As he suspected, the other hallway grew darker. No candles had been placed on that side of the painting-like object.

  The maid came up to tell him the grandfather clock had stopped working. He offered a nod to let her know he heard her.