An Earl In Time Read online

  “Bring it up here,” Julian replied. “I plan to spend the day up here. You can bring all of my meals to me.” Recalling the fact that the butler always dropped the afternoon refreshments, he added, “I won’t be taking tea and crumpets at 1:30 today.”

  The butler nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”

  Julian sat in the chair and waited to see what would happen next.

  Chapter Eight

  When Willow finished breakfast, she touched all of the mirrors she could find on the first floor. She pulled back sheets in rooms where the furniture was covered, too. She even went to the trouble of testing the windows. There was nothing out of place on the first floor.

  But there was something out of place upstairs. She knew there was one mirror that wasn’t what it seemed. Were there other openings into other parallel universes or dimensions or…or…whatever?

  She spent a few minutes debating whether or not she should take a knife upstairs with her, just in case those men on the other side were dangerous, but in the end, she opted to go upstairs without one. Her gut didn’t tell her they were dangerous.

  Her gaze went to the mirror as soon as she entered the hallway. She noticed the young man right away. Upon closer inspection, she guessed he was around her age. That was unlike the other man she’d seen earlier that morning. This man was sitting in a different chair from the one that had been set in front of the mirror.

  She stopped and took a moment to gather her bearings. She had nothing to worry about on this side of the mirror. That man wasn’t in her hallway. She could only see him in the mirror. It was strange to see her reflection looking back at her as well. It looked as if she was on the other side with him. She glanced at the amount of sunlight filtering in through her window, but when she looked at the mirror, it appeared as if the hallway in the mirror wasn’t as bright. Also, there were two chairs in the mirror and only one in her hallway. So there were several differences between this side of the mirror and that one.

  The thing couldn’t be a mirror. She had to stop thinking of it as one.

  The man slowly rose to his feet as if he was afraid she’d run off. She directed her attention back to him. Was it true? Was he really unable to get into her hallway? Had it been wise not to at least bring the knife up, just in case her intuition was wrong?

  She glanced behind her. She was still alone on this side of the mirror.

  She turned her gaze back to the portal. The man didn’t approach her. All he did was gesture to the message he had left for her in the chair in front of him.

  Well, if all he wanted was for her to read something, she could do that.

  She released her breath and walked forward. She had to get close to the portal in order to read the message on the paper that was propped up in the chair.

  Please don’t be afraid of me. I am Julian Azazel, the earl of this estate.

  This isn’t a mirror. I can only see things in your hallway through this object. It seems to be a doorway. I have touched it, and it’s solid. It feels like glass. I am unable to pass through it.

  Tell me, what is the date over there? I want to know the month, the day, and the year. I’ve been trapped in June 17, 1817 for two centuries. Every day since the first June 17, 1817 dawned, I’ve been in the same day.

  Is the same true for you? Are you stuck in the same day? Or do your days change?

  And if you don’t mind my asking, who are you?

  That was a lot to digest. She didn’t know if she could adequately address everything he had written. On the surface, the whole thing seemed absurd. But given all that was happening, it had to be real.

  Okay. As long as she didn’t panic, she should be fine.

  She looked up from the message and saw that he hadn’t moved from the other chair. That had to mean he was giving her time to get used to him.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked.

  His eyebrows furrowed.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked, this time in a louder voice.

  He pointed to his ears and shook his head. Then, after a moment, he moved his mouth in a way that let her know he was talking.

  She shook her head and pointed to her ears to let him know she couldn’t hear him, either. That made sense, now that she thought about it. Though she had seen him and the other man, she hadn’t heard anything.

  She glanced back at the message he had written. Turning her gaze back to him, she motioned for him to stay where he was, just in case he could cross the barrier that separated them. When he didn’t move, she hurried to her bedroom and grabbed her notebook and pen. She returned to the hallway, glad when she saw that he hadn’t come after her.

  Okay. That helped her trust him more than she had before.

  She went up to the portal and reread his message. She decided to answer the questions one by one.

  Today is June 17, but the year is different. She wrote down the year. Yesterday was June 16. Tomorrow should be June 18. Every day for me has been different.

  She glanced up at him and studied him. He had written that he was Julian Azazel and that he owned the estate. Upon closer inspection, he did look like the man in the portrait that was in the sitting room. He had the same dark blond hair and vintage clothing, though it was a different outfit he wore today. She hadn’t been able to tell his eye color before, but it was a deep brown color, and there was nothing lifeless about his eyes now. He was living and breathing right in front of her. She had thought he was attractive before. He was much more so when he wasn’t just a painting.

  She shook her head. What was she thinking? She was looking at someone who was supposed to be dead! He was supposed to be long gone and buried somewhere.

  But no one did find his body.

  She shivered. This was eerie. If someone had told her that coming to England was going to result in this, she would have stayed in the US.

  Since he kept staring at her expectantly, she forced her attention back to his message. After rereading it, she wrote, You’ve been dead for a long time. I just inherited this estate from Greg Westmore. I don’t remember if the lawyer said he was an earl or not. I never spoke to Greg. I didn’t even know he was a distant relative until two months ago when the lawyer contacted me. She paused then added, I’m Willow Knudson.

  She read what she had just written then figured this was enough for the moment. She went up to the barrier and held the notebook up so he could read what she’d written.

  He walked over to her, and she had to fight back the urge to step away from him. When he reached the barrier, his gaze went to the paper.

  His gaze went back to hers, and she subconsciously tightened her grip on the pen…hoping he really couldn’t reach out and grab her.

  He held his hand up in a gesture that indicated he wanted her to wait and then went to one of the bedrooms on his side of the hall.

  She released her breath. She hadn’t even been aware she’d stopped breathing while he was standing right in front of her.

  He returned a minute later with a piece of paper. He came up to her and held it up so she could read it.

  It’s possible you’ll wake up tomorrow and find that it’s June 17th again. You need to leave this estate and get far away from here before the day is over. You don’t want to end up like me.

  She blinked in surprise. She hadn’t considered that she might end up repeating the same day over and over like he had all of these years.

  Had he really been stuck in 1817 all this time? She took a good look at his clothes. They looked a lot like the ones he’d been wearing in that portrait, except he didn’t have that white cloth wrapped around his neck. His pants had buttons instead of a zipper. He also wore boots that reached his knees, and the tops of them were turned down. She couldn’t recall ever seeing boots like that. His shirt had frilly material at the wrists. His hair style was also different. While it was neatly trimmed, he had sideburns. They didn’t go as far down as what the men had worn in the 1970s, but they reminded her of that decade in the US where peo
ple didn’t seem to know what the heck good fashion was.

  If he looked odd to her, she wondered how she must look to him. She didn’t think women in his time wore a t-shirt and jeans.

  She forced her attention back to his message and wrote a response. It’s too late. I can’t leave. I haven’t been able to leave since I arrived here. There’s an invisible barrier at the moat. Everyone else can come and go.

  He read her message then went back to his bedroom. He returned soon with a reply. Did the footman bring you a missive yesterday?

  What in the world was a footman? What was a missive? She shrugged to let him know she didn’t know what he was asking.

  He returned to his bedroom and came back out. A piece of paper like this. Yesterday, did you get something like this but with something warning you that tomorrow will be the same as today?

  She wrote, No, on her piece of paper and showed it to him.

  Though a part of him seemed relieved, another part also seemed cautious. She had no idea what to make of that reaction.

  After a moment, she wrote, You can’t come through the barrier?

  He shook his head and put his hand up to the barrier. She jerked away, but within an instant, she realized his palm was resting flat on the surface of it. There were no ripples of pinks and purples.

  I think I can go through it, she wrote.

  Not sure if it was a wise idea or not, she placed her hand out to the barrier and lightly touched it. The ripples went through the barrier, and she pushed her hand forward. It didn’t hurt, but it did feel strange.

  This time, he was the one who jerked back.

  She inspected her hand that was in his hallway. She wiggled her fingers. She felt fine, but there was a soft electric sensation that was coursing through her. She pulled her hand back and studied it. The electric sensation was gone. She wiggled her fingers again. Everything looked and felt normal.

  Her gaze went back to Julian who touched the space her hand had just gone through, but he was unable to do the same thing she had done.

  She bent down and pushed her hand through the barrier. Again, the ripples trickled across the barrier and the same electric feeling crept up her arm and vibrated through her body.

  Could this be magic she was dealing with?

  With her hand still through the barrier, she slowly straightened up. The electric sensation was still there, and this time, pink and purple ripples sparked.

  It had to be magic.

  She pulled her hand back over to her side and wrote down, I think this is magic, on her notebook.

  Her gaze turned back to him, and she saw that he was trying to find a place on the barrier where he could penetrate it. But he couldn’t. To him, this thing was as solid as an actual mirror.

  Why could she go through it, but he couldn’t?

  Could it have something to do with the fact that he has been stuck in 1817 all of this time?

  She wished she knew what to make of this. This barrier was a portal that seemed to be keeping him trapped in time.

  She gasped. Mr. Thompson had said that Julian and the servants all disappeared and no one could explain why. When Julian’s cousin came out to check on him, he hadn’t found anyone here. What if his cousin had been on this side of the barrier where time was still moving forward?

  But his cousin had been able to leave this property. In fact, everyone but her had been able to leave this property. No one had inhabited this place for more than a month or two. Mr. Thompson hadn’t reported any other stories about people who went missing. And when he came out here, he’d been able to see her. She hadn’t disappeared.

  Forcing her attention back to Julian, she decided she’d have to tell him. She began writing the words out, but it was going to take too long to do all of that. It would be easier to talk to him.

  She took another look at the barrier. The thing was tall enough for her to go through. She set the notebook and pen on the chair. She gestured for Julian to take the chair directly in front of him and put it away from the barrier.

  Though he seemed confused, he did as she wished. She tested the barrier with her foot. Her foot went through it without any problems.

  Okay. She could do this. It was just like walking through a doorway.

  Squeezing her eyes tight, she stepped through the barrier. Electric currents swept through her, but they left as soon as they came. She opened her eyes once both of her feet were on the other side of the barrier.

  “How did you do that?” Julian asked, his eyes wide.

  “I just stepped through it,” she replied as she checked her body. Everything seemed to be in place. She felt and looked like she normally did. “It’s a time portal. I think magic is making it work.”

  “Well, if it did, it doesn’t seem to be working anymore.” He gestured behind her.

  She turned and saw that her side of the hallway had vanished. All she could see was what was directly in this hallway, including her and Julian.

  “No!” She tried to get back through the barrier, but she hit hard glass. She rubbed her nose. That hurt!

  “I can’t see your side anymore,” he said as he tapped the glass. “Before, I couldn’t see myself in here, but I can now.”

  The thing began to let off a pink glow that turned purple. He took her by the arm and pulled her away from it. Before she had time to process what was happening, the glass began to crack. She stumbled further back from it and hit one of the chairs. The thing glowed more brightly as more and more cracks crisscrossed across the glass.

  Julian led her to one of the bedrooms right before the glass exploded into many pieces across the hallway. She let out a shriek and buried her face in his shoulder. He held her until both of them could be assured that it was safe to go back into the hallway.

  As she began to follow him, she realized this was her bedroom on the other side of the barrier. She stopped in shock and studied it. She recognized the furniture, except everything looked as if they hadn’t been used in quite a while. The bed was neatly made. Also, there were no lamps, and her suitcase was gone. She went further into the room and saw that what had been the bathroom was a room with a small bed, a desk, and a chair.

  This was really happening. She had stepped back in time. She was in 1817.

  “That thing is destroyed,” Julian said as he walked over to her. “I’m sorry. If I had thought you weren’t going to be able to get back, I would have told you not to come over to my side of the hallway.”

  Wondering what he meant by the word destroyed, she hurried back to the hallway. There were so many pieces of glass on the floor that cleaning this up was going to be a nightmare. In the larger pieces, she saw her reflection. She picked up one of the larger pieces and turned it over. It was nothing but a black surface. She checked another piece and saw the same thing. It was like any other mirror she’d come across in her life.

  Glad she had thought to put on her sneakers, she stepped over the glass and walked over to the place where the barrier had been on the wall. The frame was splintered, and half of it was on the floor. The area she had just stepped through was now just a part of the wall.

  She touched it and then touched another part of the wall. Both sections felt exactly the same.

  It had to be magic. She couldn’t think of any other way to explain this. She turned back to him, noting that he looked as overwhelmed as she felt. “Are there any other things like this on your side of the mansion?”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “Do you mean Nightingale Hall?”

  Recalling that was what Mr. Thompson had called it, she nodded.

  “No, that was the only…strange object in this place. But I can’t leave here, and the same day keeps repeating itself. Don’t ask me why. I have no idea. It’s been like this ever since I first woke up on June 17 over two centuries ago.”

  She released her breath. She wondered if that meant she was going to be trapped in the same loop of time he was, too.

  Chapter Nine

  “Even thou
gh I’ve been trapped in the same day for two centuries, I haven’t been up here for as long as I can remember,” Julian said an hour later.

  Willow followed him into the attic. She had expected the room to be small, but this thing was larger than her apartment. Mr. Thompson hadn’t even showed her this particular room, but then, why would he? It wasn’t a main feature in a place so large that one had all the space they needed. If she had gone up here in her time, she wondered if she would have seen it exactly as it was right now. Some items were draped to protect them from dust, but there were several trunks that didn’t have anything covering them.

  “I’m sure this is where the maid put my mother’s clothes.” Julian headed over to the trunk by the small window.

  Willow wasn’t all that comfortable with the idea of wearing a deceased woman’s clothes, but given how startled the maid and butler had been to see her after they hurried up to the stairs to see what had caused the loud noise, she agreed with Julian that it’d be best if she wore the same clothes women in this time period did.

  She could only imagine what the butler and maid thought she and Julian had been doing up here. They had both averted their gazes from her and apologized for catching her in a “state of undress”. She’d waited for Julian to explain that nothing inappropriate had been going on between them, but he’d only told them to clean up the shards of glass that were all over the hallway. She supposed in light of everything that was happening, it didn’t matter. They had bigger problems to tackle anyway.

  She went to the window and saw that it was raining. She hadn’t just stepped back in time where all of the modern conveniences were gone; the weather was different on this morning, too. It’d been sunny on her side of the barrier. She also noticed that the gazebo wasn’t purple; it was pink.

  She scanned the attic and saw a window on the wall facing the front of the property. She hurried over to it and saw the familiar path leading to the bridge and moat. Instead of pavement, the path had carriage tracks that led from the front of the mansion down to the bridge. There were no shrubs. As for the trees lining what had once been the road that went past the bridge… Those looked as if they’d just been planted. They wouldn’t create any shade for the person going up or down that dirt path for a long time.