An Untimely Romance: A Time Travel Romance (4 page)

“Hello,” she replied,
looking him up and down.

He was pleasing on the
eye, with tanned skin and the darkest brown hair, which lay in a mop of thick
waves. He wore a light-brown jacket, longer than Heather had ever seen on a man
before, virtually brushing the back of his knees. With a cravat around his
neck, an ivory waistcoat and tight-fitting breeches, he did look a picture.

“Please, allow me to
introduce myself,” he said, walking closer, his dark eyes meeting hers. “The
name’s Frank.”

“I’m Heather, Heather
Richardson.”

“It’s a pleasure to
make your acquaintance, Miss Richardson.”

Heather giggled. “Why
do you talk so oddly? Where are you from? Is this how everyone talks around
here?”

“From these parts, and
yes,” he replied. “Yourself?”

“London originally, but
now this is my home.”

A look of confusion
crossed his face and he frowned, listening intently as she continued.

“My dad is in the
restoration business. He bought the manor for a great price, and it was too
good an opportunity to miss. From what he says, it came from a long line of
gentry. I can’t quite remember the name of the family, but I know they were
very rich and had owned it for the last few centuries; well, as far back as the
archives show anyway. Dad’s been harping on about it for months.”

“Freesdon Manor? Surely
you must be mistaken. Are you visiting? How long do you plan to stay?”

“Forever, as far as my
dad’s concerned.” She paused for breath.

There was a quizzical
smile on Frank’s face, and Heather never questioned it.

“He says we all need
more quality time as a family,” she continued. “The manor has given him and mum
the opportunity to work from home together, and me to have home tutoring.”
Heather sighed. The previous excitement she’d felt was suddenly draining from
her. “But I’m not looking forward to it, to be honest.” she added, sulking.
“I’m going to miss all my friends.” Looking around, she dropped her shoulders.
“I mean, tell me what I’m going to do around here? Yeah, the gardens are wow,
but this place is boring with a capital B!”

Frowning further, Frank
replied, “Why do you complain so? Be this your tale of woe? Fear not, Miss
Richardson, time has a way of working its magic for all of us.” He paused. “In
regards to your mention of the manor, do you actually know to whom you are
speaking?”

“Enough talking,”
Heather butted in. “I’m hungry, and there’s some sandwiches and bits and bobs
in my bag.” She pulled the duffel bag off her shoulder and began unzipping it.

“Are you inviting me to
eat with you?” Frank questioned inquisitively as he watched her rummaging
through the bag.

“Yeah, there’s plenty
here for two.”

“I would have brought a
blanket had I known I was picnicking today.”

Gentleman-like, he
unbuttoned and removed his jacket, gesturing her to follow him. They walked away
from the bridge and down to the water’s edge.

“Perfect,” he said,
grinning.

The grass was soft and
recently mowed, its sweet scent lingering in the air. Frank placed his jacket
down, spreading it neatly to its widest points to ensure there was enough room
for two.

“After you,” he said.

“After you? After you
what?” Heather uttered, confused.

“Please, miss, be
seated.”

“Do all you country
folk talk in riddles?” She curtsied sarcastically before sitting down. “You
don’t have to wait for me, ya know.”

“To speak the truth,
I’m afraid I do not understand you, nor do I understand your ways.”

Reaching up, she
grabbed his hands and pulled him to the ground.

“Now, Mr Frank, shalt
one eat?” Heather jibed, now finding his peculiarities more than slightly amusing.
“Anyway, you don’t look like a Frank to me; it’s an old man’s name. I’ve got an
uncle called Frank and he’s old, well into his eighties. So, I’m going to call
you Frankie, my new Devonshire friend.”

After a feast of tuna
and cucumber sandwiches, slices of ham and cheese quiche and one sausage roll,
which Heather was careful to divide equally, they chatted away like old
friends.

“I forget myself,”
Frank said.

He started searching in
the breast pocket of his jacket, pulled out a small gold pocket watch and
turned it towards him.

“I’m afraid I must take
your leave. I cannot stay; time waits for no one. I have many duties awaiting
me. Farewell, Miss Richardson, till we meet again.”

“You can’t go,
Frankie,” Heather objected, disappointment running through her voice. “You’re
my one and only friend around here.”

“I assure you, Miss
Richardson, this shall not be our last meeting.”

“Will you come here
tomorrow then? Same time, same place?”

“This I cannot promise,
but you shall see me again.”

With this they both
stood, and Frank picked up his jacket, brushing it down and relieving it of any
stray blades of grass that had attached themselves. He hurriedly threw it over
his right shoulder, managed a wry smile and headed back towards the bridge.
Heather brushed herself down also before turning to follow him, but upon
looking up, she realised he’d gone. Frank would soon be no more than a distant
memory.

~•••~

“I thought you were my imaginary friend,”
Heather said, smiling. “It was so lonely here. I came back every day looking
for you for at least a month, but you never came, and I assumed you’d moved
away. I see your dress sense hasn’t improved in the slightest.” She laughed.
“Well actually, you’d fit in very well at Freesdon Manor. Do you get your
clothes from a museum?”

A bemused Frank stood
silently. He wore an open-neck linen shirt, with a taupe waistcoat and matching
jacket, tight-fitting breeches and black shoes.

“How beautiful you are,
Miss Richardson,” he commented, his eyes examining her, much like he had on
their first meeting.

She vaguely remembered
being attracted to his striking good looks, yet striking was now an
understatement. She didn’t understand why she felt comfortable in his presence;
after all, he was almost a complete stranger. It just didn’t make any sense.

“You haven’t turned out
too bad yourself,” she said approvingly.

Stop flirting
, she told herself as Ruben popped into her mind, though it was
really difficult not to, and she could hardly take her eyes off him.

His hair had darkened
with age and was now almost jet-black, with a midnight-blue tinge in the
sunlight and a shimmering undertone to his curls that complemented his tanned
features. He oozed charm, and visually he was pretty near perfect, yet he
lacked something, that edge, the
je ne sais quoi
that drew her to Ruben.
Maybe that was why she felt so at ease with him, because she felt nothing.

“Well, we’ve got a lot
to show for these last four years... Come on, I’ll show you,” she insisted,
smiling up at him as she grabbed his hand and led him away from the lake, back
towards Freesdon Manor.

She waved at one of the
gardeners.

“Alright, Bill?” she
called.

He looked up from the
herbaceous borders he was tending and, smiling, replied, “Alright, Hev? Seen ya
dad not ten minutes gone. Keeping a check on us, I’d say. The opening’s not
long away now, ya know?” Pausing briefly, his gaze turned to her companion.
“Who’s ya mate? One of the entertainers?”

“Sumat like that!” She
grinned, looking up at Frank cheekily.

They continued walking,
passing numerous workmen tending to their own designated areas.

“Well, what do you
think?” Heather asked, stopping.

“Beautiful,” was
Frank’s reply, though his gaze was locked on her without interruption.

She caught his eyes for
no more than a second, yet she could feel them burning into hers. Feeling a
little uneasy, she flicked her hair from behind her ears, briefly covering the
side of her face and blocking his view of her. 

“You’ve got your own
tour guide. Fancy a look?” she asked, excitement in her voice at showing off
the manor.

“I would like that
immensely. After you...” He gestured.

The grand, dimly lit
hall was filled with portraits, the subjects’ eyes following them as they
walked through, the only sound being Heather’s heels as they met with the
wooden floorboards.

“Upstairs first...”
Heather paused as she noticed a subtle grin manifesting on Frank’s face.

She swallowed. “What I’m trying to say is,
there’s so much I want to show you, so many rooms...” 

The staircase beckoned,
answered by only an echo as their footsteps rose between the two intricately
carved mahogany handrails. She paused and looked up, and as she did so the
grandfather clock chimed just once. Her eyes were drawn to its face and she
gasped, causing her to miss her footing and lose her balance as she teetered on
the top step. She was now face-to-face with a darkened vision, with soft edges,
manifesting itself into a female form, a sudden reinvention of itself into an
obscure orb, its menacing aura emitting an unearthly chilling cry that pierced
Heather’s ears like a knife, before evaporating like the early morning mist.
Then, time was lost in an all-consuming slow motion as both clock hands rested
once again on the number one. An eerie repeat of the night before cried out in
her mind.

“I shall never let you
fall. Never...”

Startled back to
reality, Heather felt the support of two strong arms holding her tightly. As
Frank’s face nuzzled into her neck, with a slight tilt of her head their lips
met in a soft, yet passionate kiss. She could feel his teeth pressing against
hers, his kiss filled with intense emotion. Flustered and disorientated, she
pulled away. She was thankful for him catching her, but felt awkward following
his advances. Who did he think he was?

“Frankie, I ... I’ve got
a boyfriend,” she stuttered, her breathing returning to normal, her expression
making further words between them unnecessary.

“My, my, doesn’t this
look cosy! Quite the couple, I’d say!” Ruben’s voice rang angrily up the
stairwell upon seeing the compromising position in which he found them.

Heather guiltily jumped
from Frank’s arms.

“It’s not like that,”
she snapped in her defence. “I slipped, and if it wasn’t for Frankie, who knows
where I’d be!” She looked down ominously at the floor below. “He’s an old
friend, I’ve known him since childhood. I was just showing him around.”

Ruben frowned for a
second as he looked Frank up and down.

“In that case, I think
a thank you is in order, mate,” he said, climbing the stairs. “Put it there,”
he added, taking Frank’s hand in his own. “In fact, why not join us? After all,
you’ve saved my girl.” He loosened his grip before cosily locking both his arms
around Heather’s waist.

“Join us?” Heather
questioned, placing her hands over his.

“Yes. I bumped into
your dad, and he said you wanted me to join you all for dinner.”

“Oh, he did, did he?”
Heather smiled inwardly.

Good old Dad
, she thought to herself; he certainly didn’t miss a trick. She
already knew what the topics of conversation would be that evening – the guest
house’s grand opening, Ruben’s father’s connections, not forgetting his own
handicap on the golf course.
Joy
, she thought.

“I think ya old man
said dinner was at six, so see ya later. Frank, wasn’t it? Oh yeh, and thanks
again.”

“Very much looking
forward to dining with you this evening. I will see you both at six.” With
that, Frank made his way back down the staircase.

Heather, totally
wrapped up in Ruben, hardly heard the door close behind him as he left.

“Haven’t been able to
get my mind off you. You’re driving me crazy,” Ruben said, kissing her softly
on the cheek, making sure to hold her hand before leading her onto the landing.
“We don’t want you to fall again, now do we? Anyway, I was here earlier today,
and have I got something to show you.”

A quizzical expression
crossed Heather’s face as she considered how his choice of words held a rather
ambiguous meaning. Her eyes once more wandered to the clock face. She could
hear its melodic ticking as it held its own one-way conversation. It was twenty
past one. The grandfather clock stood proudly in its deep mahogany overcoat
surveying its majestic surroundings, a near match to the dark wood panelling on
the neighbouring walls.

“I’m sure it was the
fourth bedroom along,” Ruben uttered as they walked further down the landing.

Heather sighed with
relief that it wasn’t
that
bedroom. She hadn’t even dared to enter it to
tidy up or make the bed since the night before. She felt lost somewhere in her
daydreams, or nightmares, and was confused as to where she’d found herself on
more than one occasion.

Multi-coloured
tapestries hung as a welcome interruption to the plain wall panelling. A
mournful groaning came from the hinges as Ruben pushed open the heavy door. The
room was a substantial space, but not overly decorative. The furnishings were a
decent size, and comprised of a four-poster bed in sculptured oak, with a
matching wardrobe and bedside table. Standing at the end of the bed was a
rectangular-shaped ottoman, its cushion seat faded, its original material
fraying at the edges, finished with rounded feet on castors.

“Over here,” Ruben
beckoned as he approached the bed. “Actually no, undress for me, slowly.” His
words were teasing, yet meaningful.

Heather stood rigid, an
uneasiness in the air.

“Go on, undress, and
then I’ll show you. Hang on, best close the door, don’t want disturbing, do
we?”

Loosening his shirt,
Ruben lay back on the bed, his hypnotic green eyes boring into her, tracing
every intricate curve of her body.