The Passage (30 page)

Oh, why did he have to bring up Evan? I thought as I took a sideways look at Hugo.  He sat still as a statue, waiting for me to introduce him.

“Look, Max, something extraordinary happened to me back in March.  While taking photographs down in the crypt, I came upon a passage that led me to the seventeenth century where I met Hugo.  Max, this is Lord Hugo Everly, your ancestor.” I expected Max to be shocked, but he simply nodded to Hugo. 

“I know,” Max said.  “I recognize him from the portrait, only he looks less pompous in my tracksuit and without that ridiculous wig.”  I glared at Max, angry that he would try to humiliate Hugo rather than make him welcome.  Max heard me loud and clear and put on a welcoming façade. 

“Of course, I’m thrilled to meet you, Hugo.  I’m just understandably shocked.  It’s not every day that someone who died over three hundred years ago waltzes into your life.  I do hope you understand, old chap.  Oh, you really are an old chap, aren’t you?”  Max laughed, amused by his own wit. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Hugo replied with undisguised sarcasm.  Oh, this wasn’t starting off well at all.

“Max, you don’t seem surprised by my time-traveling,” I said, suddenly realizing that Max didn’t so much as bat an eyelash at my admission that I was in the seventeenth century, keeping company with his ancestor.

“No, I suspected you might have gone through the passage, although I wasn’t sure.  I found the bag with your clothes, phone, and keys behind the tomb, and then saw your car parked in the street not too far away from the church,” he admitted. 

“Did you take my things?” I asked, shocked that Max would just assume something like that.  What if I’d been kidnapped or hurt?

“I took your hold-all and used the car keys to drive your car to the lodge.  It’s in the stable.  I assumed that you went willingly and didn’t want to alert anyone to what you’d done.  It would certainly raise a lot of awkward questions, and every cheap rag would send a reporter down here to investigate.”

“But, how did you know about the passage?  Have you ever gone through?” I demanded.

“I actually didn’t know about it.  I heard a tale long ago of an uncle who disappeared for months, then came back rambling about the Civil War and his encounters with Oliver Cromwell.  Everyone thought him mad, and he spent some years in an institution for the mentally insane.  He did manage to get out eventually, once he learned to stop speaking of his experiences.  When I saw your modern clothes and your phone hidden behind the tomb, I went looking for his journal to see if any part of that could have been true.  His musings were very convincing, and I couldn’t find any other explanation for your disappearance.  Some women saw you going to the crypt alone with a large bag.  You never came out and there was no sign of a struggle.  There’s no other way out from the crypt, and no one saw anyone else about that day.  So, what year did you wind up in?”

“1685, where I met Hugo.  He can’t go back, Max, and we have to help him.”

“Ah, the plot thickens,” Max said, his eyes on Hugo.  “You disappeared without a trace in May of 1685.  Am I to assume that this is where you disappeared to?”  There was that sarcasm again, but I couldn’t afford to antagonize Max.  He was our only hope.

“It would appear so,” Hugo replied.

At that moment, Mrs. Harding appeared with a tray bearing a plate of sandwiches, tea, and some little cakes that smelled heavenly.  She threw me a weird look, but barely even looked at Hugo as she took her leave.

“Help yourselves, darlings,” Max said as he reached for a cake and popped it in his mouth.

I poured Hugo a cup of tea and placed several sandwiches on a plate for him.  I didn’t think he’d help himself since Max wasn’t particularly hospitable, but Hugo was sure to be hungry.  The gesture wasn’t lost on Max, who gave me a knowing little smile. 

“So, what now?” asked Max, pouring a cup for himself.  “What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know,” I stammered.  “I was hoping you can help Hugo somehow.  He’s family, after all.”

“Hmm, he is indeed, isn’t he?” mused Max as he helped himself to another cake.  “I suppose I can make a donation to the cause, but I can hardly get involved in any kind of shady enterprise that might damage my political prospects if anyone got wind of it.  You might be better off going to London.  It’s much easier to get lost among the masses than here, in a place where everyone knows everyone’s business.  People would be remarking on the resemblance before the week was out.  Of course, you can stay the night, and you can use the lodge for as long as you want if you are not ready to go back.  I can provide foodstuffs and whatever else you need; assuming you stay out of sight.”

“That’s very kind of you, Max,” I said, trying to keep the venom from my voice, but Max just shrugged his shoulders, effectively washing his hands of the whole thing.

“Stella will show you to your rooms,” he said, dismissing us.

“One room will be sufficient,” Hugo informed him just as Mrs. Harding came in.

“Oh, like that, is it?  Well, don’t let me stand in your way, old man.”

I wanted to slap the smirk off Max’s face, but simply got up and walked out of the room.  He clearly wasn’t going to be much help, so Hugo and I were on our own.  Hugo silently followed me up the stairs and to the room Mrs. Harding opened for us.  It was the room where I’d stayed before, and it felt sadly familiar.  I wished I had my things, but I had nothing aside from Max’s clothes on my back.  Well, tomorrow I would reclaim my car, get my suitcase out of the boot and change.  I’d have to charge my phone and call Lawrence Spellman.  I was probably fired anyway.  The thought made me cry with frustration.  I suddenly felt so lost. 

Hugo pulled me to him and held me, his chin atop my head.  “Neve, it will be all right.  I will do whatever it takes to make this work, I promise.  I’m sorry if I was distant earlier; it won’t happen again.  Just say that you still love me,” he asked softly.

“Of course I still love you, you fool,” I sobbed.  “I love you even more, if that’s possible.”

“Then come to bed and let me make you feel better.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” I replied and shed my clothes.

Max waited until Neve and Hugo departed before pouring himself a large drink, which he gulped down in seconds.  He’d behaved badly, but he couldn’t control himself.  The appearance of Neve was bad enough, but Hugo’s was simply catastrophic.  He hadn’t been able to seal the passage as he planned.   He’d consulted several so-called professionals, who informed him that the church was a historic building, and plastering over the walls of the crypt would not only serve very little purpose since they appeared to be architecturally sound, but would cover up the original texture of the stone as well as the elaborate carvings that dated all the way back to the fourteenth century.  Since there was nothing structurally wrong with the crypt, they’d never be able to obtain a permit.

As the weeks passed, Max began to believe that everything would be all right.  Neve hadn’t come back in nearly two months, so it was safe to assume that she was staying in the past, whether willingly or not he didn’t much care.  Max wasn’t sure what year she ended up in, but Clarence inherited Hugo’s estate in 1685, and that was sure to happen anyway since Hugo did his vanishing act.  Max reasoned that since he was still Lord Everly in 2013, whatever Neve did in the past didn’t affect him since the present would have been altered.  Everything went on as before, thankfully, so the most likely scenario was that Neve found herself in the past, caught some nasty disease or behaved strangely enough to arouse suspicion, and met her end in some unpleasant way, her life extinguished like a candle, with very little fuss.  He had to admit that he felt sorry at the thought, but there was nothing he could have done.  He’d looked for the passage, and had he found it, perhaps he might have even gone to look for Neve and do the chivalrous thing by bringing her back.  Oh, who was he kidding?  He liked her, he’d been physically attracted to her, but the first rule of survival was self-preservation, not chivalry. 

The fact that no one appeared to be looking for Neve very hard certainly hadn’t hurt.  There was absolutely no evidence of foul play; no body, no car, and no bag.  Phone and bank records would show that calls had been made since Neve’s disappearance, and her bank account had been accessed from several different ATM’s in the London area.  Like most people, Neve had used her birthday as a code, making it ridiculously easy for Max to access her account.  He’d made sure that he wore a cap pulled low over his face in case security cameras caught him accessing her account at the time of the transaction, and kept the hat on long after he left the bank, acutely aware of the all-reaching access of CCTV.  Consequently, the evidence suggested that Neve Ashley simply took off without telling anyone -– irresponsible, certainly, but not a victim of a crime.  Lawrence Spellman had questioned Max several times, clearly concerned for Neve, and her irritating boyfriend had come round, but they both quickly gave up, realizing that Max knew nothing.  It’d all gone according to plan until this evening. 

Hugo Everly showing up on Max’s doorstep was more than Max’s mind could accept.  He needed a little time to understand the implications of having his ancestor in the present day.  Technically, there wasn’t much Hugo could do, but one never knew.  He was Lord Everly, and could conceivably make some claim to the estate if he were able to prove his identity.  And what if he went back to his own time and managed to avoid arrest?  He was obviously in love with Neve – that slag who rejected him, but promptly fell into bed with a horse-smelling, sword-wielding traitor — so if she agreed to go with him, he might very well marry her and sire an heir, who would leave Max out of the line of succession since Clarence would never inherit.  Despite his uncertain status, Hugo could do much to destroy Max’s life. 

Unless, of course, Hugo vanished again; as he was meant to, Max thought bitterly.  As of now, Hugo had no identity and no legitimacy in the twenty-first century.  If something happened to him, no one would look for him except Neve since he didn’t officially exist.  But what would she tell the police; that she brought a seventeenth-century man through a passage in a church?  Who’d believe her?  They would think she’d lost the plot and would send her for a psychiatric evaluation, one that she would fail unless she retracted her story. 

Even if Hugo’s corpse turned up somewhere, no one would be able to identify him or find his killer, since no one would be able to tie him to the Everlys.  It could be the perfect crime, a crime that would set Max free and clear his path to power.  Now, all he had to do was keep Neve and Hugo from leaving.  He could invite Hugo to go hunting and shoot him accidentally on purpose, or he could take him fishing and drown him in the stream, which was an even better idea since the body could float down the stream, washed clean of any evidence. 

Max poured himself another drink, but sipped it slowly this time.  He needed time to work out the details, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.  He’d ruffled some feathers tonight, but he would smooth things over come morning and put his plan into action.  The sooner the better too, since his mother would arrive home within a week, and there was no need to involve her in his scheme.

I woke up just as the fuchsia rays of the rising sun began to color the conservatively decorated bedroom, making it look like a punk rock dream of a teenage girl.  Everything glowed a reddish-pink and the effect was dazzling, especially on Hugo, who looked like some god crowned with a blood-red halo.  Unfortunately, he didn’t appreciate the artistic effect and rolled away from the light to avoid the sun on his face.  I smiled and stretched contentedly, briefly remembering last night.  A few moments later, I was abruptly brought back to reality when I remembered the encounter with Max.  I hadn’t expected Max to be thrilled, but I certainly did not anticipate the venom I could almost see dripping from his tongue.  I’d trusted Max, and thought of him a friend, but the side of him I’d witnessed last night was like nothing I’d seen before. 

Did Max believe that having Hugo in the twenty-first century somehow threatened his position and future plans?  But how?  Hugo had no claim to anything, being dead for over three hundred years; so why did Max feel so threatened?  He’d taken my car and bag and hidden them, making certain that no one who looked for me would find any sign of my disappearance.  Was that a helpful gesture, or a way of disguising something sinister?  What if I hadn’t gone through the passage but had actually been assaulted by someone or kidnapped?  The police would never know since Max hadn’t lost any time in disposing of the evidence.  And if he had known that I’d actually stepped back in time, was he happy to leave me there and forget I’d ever existed?

These revelations made my head spin.  I had to get Hugo out of here as soon as possible.  London was the best place for a person to get lost in, so to London we would go.  I just had to collect my car from the lodge stables, change into my own clothes, and disappear before the cast and crew descended on the manor house for a day of shooting and spotted me wandering about.  I would speak to Lawrence when I was ready, and present him with a plausible explanation for why I went walkabout.

I rolled onto my side and fitted myself to Hugo before kissing his bare shoulder and wrapping my arm around his waist.  “Hugo, time to go,” I whispered in his ear.  My voice had an immediate effect.  Hugo placed his hand over mine without turning around, but I knew that he was now fully awake, his mind going full speed.

“We must leave,” he said, “Now.”

“Yes, we must, but I’m afraid I must see Max before we go.  I need to get my car and purse from the lodge.”  The mention of the car made Hugo turn around and face me, his eyes full of anxiety. 

“Exactly how fast does a motorized vehicle ride?” he asked.

“It doesn’t ride
—
it drives, and it’s much faster than a horse.  Don’t worry; it’ll only feel strange for a few moments until you get your bearings.  It will be fun.”

“Fun?” he echoed.  “I never really thought of things as being fun, but I suppose under the circumstances, I might just reconsider the meaning of that word.”  He was trying to be sarcastic, but I detected a note of panic in his voice.  A galloping horse could go as fast as thirty miles per hour, so I didn’t dare tell Hugo how fast a car could drive down a motorway.  He’d find out in due course.

We dressed in near silence and went in search of Max.  I forgot all about the portrait, but Hugo stopped and stared at the only thing left of his time on earth.  His likeness glared at him with all the charm of a belligerent bulldog. 

“I never did like that portrait,” Hugo said conversationally.  “I never wanted to sit for it, but Jane insisted, saying that it was only right and proper that every Lord Everly have his place in the gallery.  She said I should look imposing and masterful.  What do you think?  Did I manage to accomplish that?” he asked with an impish grin. 

“Oh, yes.  You are the very picture of a feudal overlord about to whip his serfs.”  I couldn’t help teasing him, especially when I knew that despite his cool demeanor, he was probably worried about what was to become of him now that we had no plan to fall back on. 

“A job well done then, to be enjoyed by future generations of Everlys for years to come.”  Hugo took my arm and led me to the stairs where we nearly collided with Max.

“Are you off so soon?” Max asked innocently, his face wreathed in smiles.  “Please, stay for breakfast at least, and then I will drive you to the lodge and open the stables.  I insist.”

“Very well,” Hugo said and followed Max to the dining room where a hot breakfast was waiting on the ornate sideboard.  Max handed Hugo a plate and then went on to fill his own with eggs, sausages, and fried tomatoes.  Racks of toast and hot tea were already on the table, a fact that I found telling.  Max didn’t want Grace to serve breakfast as she normally did.  Perhaps he’d realized the possible implications of having someone witness Hugo’s presence at the manor.  Grace had been there last night, but she hardly noticed Hugo.  This morning, with the May sunshine bathing the room in a golden haze, she was sure to notice that her employer’s guest looked like his long-lost brother, which might raise a few questions, particularly if she happened to mention it to Lady Everly on her return.  I had to admit that the resemblance was even more pronounced in the daylight.  Perhaps that’s what scared Max.  Did he think that Hugo would try to impersonate him in some way?

Max took a few bites and pushed his plate away, making a show of being unable to eat.  “Look, old chap, I’m afraid I was rather unwelcoming last night.  The shock of seeing you and all that…  I’d like to make it up to you.  Why don’t you stay for a few days?  Get the lay of the land, so to speak.  You can stay at the lodge if you prefer.  I’m sure Neve has things to attend to after her extended absence, so you and I can get to know each other better; we are family after all.  Do you enjoy fishing?” Max asked, smiling at Hugo in an ingratiating way.

“Not particularly,” Hugo replied, the chill evident in his voice. 

“What about hunting?”  Max tried again.

“I thank you for your kind offer, Lord Everly, but Mistress Ashley and I will be on our way.”  I smiled into my eggs because at that point, there was no doubt who the real Lord Everly was.  Max looked like a chastised schoolboy next to Hugo, who was every inch the lord.  I could see spots of color appear in Max’s cheeks.  Hugo hadn’t said anything offensive, but Max felt slighted; that was obvious.

“Max, if you would be so kind as to give me the key to the stable, we’ll be going.  And thank you for breakfast.”  I took a last sip of tea and rose to leave, followed by Hugo.

“I’ll drive you there,” Max suggested, but Hugo wasn’t about to have his first automotive experience in the presence of Max.

“I think we’ll just walk to the lodge,” he said.  “It’s a fine morning outside.  Shall we meet you there?”

“Of course,” Max conceded.

**

I was relieved to be outside.  The drops of dew on the grass in the park sparkled like shards of crystal, and a peachy haze enveloped the park and village, blurring the edges and making everything appear soft and beautiful.  My feet were wet within minutes, but I didn’t care as I walked with Hugo toward the woods.  At this moment, all I wanted was to retrieve my things and be gone.  A plan was forming in my head, but it would take some finessing, so I wasn’t ready to share it with Hugo just yet. 

Max was already at the lodge by the time we arrived; the padlock hanging listlessly off the thick chain and the doors to the stables open to reveal my car.  Max tossed me the keys and turned to Hugo, a bright smile on his face.  “May I show you around while Neve collects her things?”

I knew that Hugo wanted to refuse, but he was too much a gentleman to reject Max outright again, so he gave a slight incline of the head and followed Max into the forest.  I wasn’t sure what Max wanted to show Hugo, but I had a few things to do before we left.  I rummaged in my hold-all until I found my mobile and my wallet.  My clothes were a bit wrinkled, but wearable, so I changed right there in the stable, and went to the lodge to return Max’s togs.  I was about to leave when I remembered our seventeenth-century clothes, so I hastily collected our things, washed out the tea mugs and plate, making sure to leave no trace of our stay behind. 

I came out of the lodge and glanced around.  Max and Hugo were not back yet, so I turned on my phone, fully expecting it to have a dead battery.  The telephone buzzed to life with an announcement that I had seventeen missed calls, ten messages, a dozen texts, and countless e-mails.  I glanced at recent calls, surprised to see that there were several calls placed within the past two months from my phone.  A few were to Everly Manor, and several others were to my flat.  If my mobile had been in the car all along, how was it possible that calls were made, and why was the battery still charged, if low? 

I would answer these questions later, but first I decided to bite the bullet and listen to my messages.  There were two calls from Evan, sounding haughty and demanding to know where I was, five messages from Lawrence, the last one telling me that I was fired, and several other messages from various friends as well as one from my bank.  The clerk informed me that as of my last withdrawal on April 20
th
, I was overdrawn by ten pounds.

My hands began to shake as the realization of what must have happened hit me.  Max had my car keys; he’d found my personal belongings.  He must have made the calls and used my account to give the impression that I was still in the present rather than in the seventeenth century.  I couldn’t understand how this might benefit him or why he would feel the need to perpetuate this charade, but whatever his reasons were he clearly had something to lose now that I was back.  I threw my things back into the car and ran in the direction that Max and Hugo had taken.