Threaded Through Time, Book Two, page 5
part #2 of Threaded Through Time Series
“Hey.” Cathy rubbed her arm. “This is why you need to talk to your friends, not hide from them.”
Robin wiped her eyes and forced a smile. “I’ll be okay. It just came out of the blue, that’s all. I know I’m worrying for nothing. Pam will do right by me. She got me out of my mom’s place. She won’t do anything that’ll force me back.”
“You can’t go back,” Cathy said sternly. “And I agree about Pam. She’ll probably hold off on selling the house until you’ve graduated, or at least until you’ve found somewhere else to live that doesn’t include your mother. So stop being a worrywart. You always expect the worst.”
“I’ll miss her.”
Cathy’s voice softened. “I know. I’m sure she’ll miss you, too. When I said she wasn’t thinking of you, I didn’t mean because she doesn’t care. I meant that she’s focused on the boyfriend.” She nudged Robin’s arm. “And you have a girlfriend, so it’s not all doom and gloom. When did you say I’d get to meet her?”
“I don’t know, um—”
“Friday?”
“No.”
“Next week, then! Otherwise I’ll start to wonder if she’s a blow-up doll.”
Despite her melancholy, Robin laughed. “Jesus, Cathy.”
“Well, come on. You’ve hibernated enough. Time to get some air. Next Friday.”
Would Margaret be ready by then? If she wasn’t, the worst that could happen was that Cathy would think her weird. Nobody would ever wonder if Margaret was from the past. “Okay.”
Cathy smiled. “Great! Let’s invite Debbie and Francine along. They’ve also been wondering what the hell’s happened to you.”
“No, let’s keep it to just us. Margaret’s shy. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable.”
“Okay.” Cathy’s eyes glinted mischievously. “I’ll try not to interrogate her.”
“You’d better not.”
“Ooh. Protective.”
Yes. Very. “What about you? Anyone on your radar?”
Cathy’s eyes grew wary. “I’m still not ready after Jan. Don’t say anything.”
Like, Jan was a jerk and good riddance? “I won’t. Anyway, I should get to the library.”
“I’m glad I ran into you. I know we’ve chatted on the phone, but it’s not the same, and with Pam taking off on you . . . don’t try to deal with everything yourself like you usually do, okay?”
Okay . . . um, I need to get someone from 1910 into the system. Can you help with that? Robin chuckled to herself. “I’ll try not to.”
So, Margaret wasn’t a secret anymore, Robin mused as they said good-bye and parted ways. The year 2010—the present—was beginning to claim her.
*****
Pam tried not to gape as she accepted Jasper’s supporting hand and climbed off the carriage. She’d gathered that Oliver’s family was well off, but hadn’t expected the perfectly landscaped and expansive grounds—the ride from the gates to the house had taken forever, and “house” was inadequate. She was standing in front of a freaking mansion! But—she wrinkled her nose. Would she eventually grow used to the smell? At least horse manure didn’t blacken her lungs.
A young man in a dark suit descended the front steps and nodded to Oliver. “The black trunk should go into the guest room nearest to Doris’s,” Oliver said. He turned to Pam and Jasper. “Shall we?”
Pam almost gasped when she stepped into the entrance hall. The chandelier, the winding staircase leading to the second floor, the beautiful mirrors . . . she needed a fan!
Another man in a dark suit accepted their hats with a murmured, “Thank you,” then Oliver led them into a drawing room about four times the size of Margaret’s. In one corner, a woman sat absorbed in a book, her brow furrowed. Oliver’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Get your nose out of that book, Doris! We have guests!”
Doris jumped and looked up with an abrupt, “Oh!” She snapped the book shut and set it on the small round table next to her, then stood and smoothed her skirt.
“Jasper, you’ve met my sister, I believe.”
“I’ve only had the pleasure once.” Jasper accepted Doris’s hand and brushed it with his lips.
“And this is Miss Margaret Wilton.” Oliver turned to Pam and beckoned her forward. “My sister, Miss Doris Pembleton.”
Pam inclined her head. “Pleased to meet you.”
Doris shifted her attention to Pam. Her brows drew together. After a moment’s hesitation, she mumbled, “And you.”
Hmm, was Doris not pleased to be saddled with the runaway fiancée of her brother’s friend? Maybe she’d relished having the house to herself—with who knew how many servants—while her parents were away.
“Doris fancies herself something of an intellectual,” Oliver said with an indulgent smile.
Doris’s face flushed. God, Pam hoped Oliver wasn’t a chauvinistic asshole. She could take men treating her as if she was wrapped in cotton wool—in fact, she quite liked it—and she wouldn’t mind playing the good little housewife to Jasper and maybe going to university to get a degree she’d never use. But she wouldn’t be able to bear the company of a man who talked down to her because she was a woman.
“Would you like tea?” Doris asked.
Pam nodded. “That would be lovely.”
“I’ll ask Bella for sandwiches and cake, too.” Doris strode from the room.
Oliver stared after her and shook his head. “She could have rung for Bella.”
Pam had the distinct impression that Doris had wanted to get away before she said something she’d regret.
“Please sit down, Margaret.”
Huh? Oh, Margaret! “Thank you.” Pam lowered herself into a chair.
“I must say, I wasn’t entirely surprised when you told me about your decision, or your father’s reaction to it.” Oliver dropped into the chair vacated by Doris; Jasper followed his lead and sat in the chair next to Pam. “You spoke about cabinetmaking back in our schooldays, but when you went into investments, I thought you’d abandoned the idea. I’m glad to see that you hadn’t. And you, Margaret, leaving your family to support Jasper.” He formed a steeple with his fingers and studied Pam. “I can understand why Jasper wants you as his wife. You’re as beautiful as Jasper described you. In fact, he didn’t do you justice.”
Pam giggled. “Thank you, Oliver.” That crack about Doris? Forgiven!
“What are your plans, Jasper? You and Margaret are welcome to stay with us as long as you like, but I assume you’re eager to find a home and marry.”
Jasper nodded. Pam listened while he and Oliver discussed the real estate market and suitable neighbourhoods, noting with interest that Jasper’s flight from Toronto hadn’t left him destitute—far from it. He may not have wanted to be an investment banker for life, but it sounded as if he had a flair for it. Would they end up living on an estate like this one? Pam would be happy with a house connected to an electrical grid. If she had to guess, this room was illuminated by gaslights.
A servant—Bella, Pam presumed—carried in a tray laden with tea, sandwiches, and cakes. Pam felt like royalty when Bella poured her tea and served her sandwiches on a china plate. She laid the starched cloth napkin Bella offered her on her lap, and reminded herself that a lady wouldn’t suck down her sandwiches like a Hoover.
Doris returned and accepted tea and sandwiches from Bella. Jasper and Oliver did the same, then resumed their conversation. Pam smiled when she caught Doris looking at her, then frowned when Doris quickly looked away. A minute later, Pam caught Doris eyeing her again. Freaking hell, Doris wasn’t another closet lesbian, was she? Were they everywhere in this time period? No, Doris looked pissed, not interested.
After polishing off two pieces of cake and sitting quietly for half an hour while Jasper and Oliver chatted—Doris was sitting too far away to converse with her—Pam’s eyelids drooped; sleep hadn’t come easily on the train. She snapped awake when Jasper patted her arm.
“Perhaps it’s time to let the ladies become better acquainted,” he said. “Will we dine together tonight?”
Oliver turned to Doris. “Why don’t you and Margaret come round to us about 6:30? That will give Margaret time to settle in. Hortense is eager to meet her, and assumed we’d host dinner tonight.”
Hortense? He’d married a woman named Hortense? Pam imagined a very long face and blinkers.
Doris nodded. “We’ll do that, Oliver.”
Jasper and Oliver rose. Since Doris remained seated, Pam did too. “See you later,” Jasper murmured to Pam. Oliver nodded as he passed her.
The room was suddenly quiet. Bella hovered in the doorway. “Would you like more tea?”
“No, thank you,” Pam said.
“Why don’t you show Miss Wilton to her room?” Doris suggested. “You have time for a short nap,” she said to Pam.
So much for getting acquainted. “I would like to freshen up and unpack a few items,” Pam admitted.
“If you’ll follow me,” Bella said.
As she left the drawing room, Pam could feel Doris’s eyes on her. She followed Bella up the winding staircase and into a bright and spacious room that instantly perked her up.
“I hope this is satisfactory.”
“What?” Pam turned to Bella. “Oh, yes, quite satisfactory. Thank you.”
Bella nodded, turned away, and strode down the hall. Pam waited until Bella started down the stairs, then walked to the middle of the room and twirled once. She loved the feel of the old house. The panelling, the richly coloured rug, the antique furnishings, the quilt covering the bed—even the air felt different. It had a stillness, or perhaps quietness, that one could never experience in a modern city. She was bound to miss the comforts of home, but despite the conveniences that eased daily life and having everything at her fingertips, she’d never felt at peace. Her harried life had led to her frequent trips to Jake’s and consequently to this time period, where she wouldn’t have to consciously slow down the day’s pace through meditation.
At home, she’d be at work bitching about something or someone, rushing around doing errands on her lunch hour, racing home to do her share of the housework, squeezing in a friend for coffee, dragging herself out on the weekend to do groceries and other scintillating activities, feeling guilty for not exercising, and writing cheques to charities because she couldn’t donate time. She had no idea how her friends with kids coped—on three hours of sleep, maybe? They’d want to kill her if they could see her standing in the middle of this bedroom, contemplating lying down for an hour or two before climbing into a carriage and riding off for a god-knows-how-many course meal. Moving to the window, Pam gazed at the manicured lawn that stretched out as far as she could see. Of course, being loaded helped.
She turned away from the window and eyed the black trunk on the floor near what she presumed was the closet door. Was she expected to change for dinner? Her time in the Bainbridge guest house and on the train hadn’t taught her the rules. She and Jasper had focused on rehearsing her background as Margaret Wilton. She hadn’t thought to ask him about life as a cultured lady. If she was expected to arrive at Oliver’s in a different dress, she didn’t have many to choose from. If Margaret hadn’t taken her out shopping for a dress for the Halloween Ball, she’d have only the dress on her back and the one that Jasper had bought that sorta, kinda fit her. She planned to wear the latter one tomorrow, when she’d venture into town to shop for more clothes.
Crouching in front of the trunk, she lifted its lid. Even though she’d pilfered several items from the guest house, such as the hairbrush Margaret had left behind after helping Pam dress for her first day out in 1910, the trunk was only half full. Pam rummaged around inside it. Now where was that—
She tensed when moving aside one of the folded dresses revealed the moon rhymes book. Was this the same book that had made its way to Mathers Mystic Marketplace in 2010? If so, had one of her descendants carried it to Toronto? What would happen if Pam were to write a note next to the rhyme on page 17? Had one of those coffee stains obscured the words, To myself in 2010: make up the guest bedroom?
If she were to write a note, what would she say? Would she warn against reading the rhyme? No! So there was no point in writing anything, and she wouldn’t dare turn to page 17, anyway. The only reason she was hanging onto the book, rather than destroying it, was because it could be the book she’d held in 2010. Oh god, she felt the onset of one of those “Am I not doing something because I know it didn’t happen that way in the future, or because I wouldn’t have done it anyway and that’s why it didn’t happen in the future?” headaches.
Had Robin and Margaret destroyed their book—or rather, would they? Where were they now? Suspended in time? Pam could only think of them in the present tense. She couldn’t grasp that Robin hadn’t been born yet, and didn’t even want to contemplate what state Margaret might be in. Nope, as far as she was concerned, they were in Toronto—its 2010 incarnation—and she’d moved to Halifax to be with her future husband. Someday the fact that she’d never see Robin again would catch up to her, when she was settled enough, and felt safe enough, to let her guard down and have one of those gut-wrenching cries that made her look as if she’d just had plastic surgery.
Okay, she’d better hang the dress Jasper had bought her. If she didn’t have to wear it later, she’d need it tomorrow. She removed it from the trunk, draped it over her arm, turned and—gasped. The dress slid to the floor.
Doris stared at her from the doorway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Pam took a moment to calm herself. “It’s all right. You surprised me, that’s all.” How long had she been there?
Doris strode in and picked up the dress. “I thought I’d make sure Bella had put you into the right room.” She opened the closet, drew out a hanger, and hung the dress. As she moved away from the closet, she glanced down at the trunk. “You didn’t bring much with you.”
Could she see the book? Not that it mattered; Doris wouldn’t know the power of page 17. “I left in a bit of a hurry,” Pam said.
“I can imagine. Oliver didn’t tell me much. He never does. But I gathered that Jasper’s announcement that he was turning his back on the family business wasn’t well received.”
“No.”
“I wonder why he didn’t wait until after you were married. Surely he must have known what an awkward position his father’s wrath would place you in—having to choose between him and remaining in Toronto.” Doris studied Pam with unreadable eyes. “Was the situation so bad that he couldn’t have kept his secret until the summer? Why did you decide to come here, rather than marrying sooner in Toronto?”
The hairs on the back of Pam’s neck stood up. Was Doris merely curious? Fortunately she had a story ready. “I encouraged Jasper to speak to his father.” Pam forced a smile she hoped looked genuine. “Truth be told, he didn’t need much encouragement. Once he knew he had my support, he did something he should have done years ago, and I was happy for him! I want him to be himself, to do what the universe—” Oops, she didn’t want Doris to search the trunk for voodoo dolls. “What God wants him to do.” Jesus. “What we didn’t anticipate was his father’s reaction. We knew he’d be upset, but we didn’t expect him to spread vicious rumours about us that would leave us no choice but to say good-bye to Toronto.”
Doris’s eyes widened. “What types of rumours?” she breathed.
Pam cleared her throat. “Rumours I wouldn’t dare repeat.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “They involve a future child.”
Doris’s brows shot up.
“Of course, the rumours aren’t true.” Pam straightened and clasped her hands across her stomach, trying to appear virtuous. Unfortunately, her position drew Doris’s eyes to her hands.
“You don’t have an engagement ring.”
“I do. A beautiful diamond ring that’s being adjusted at the jewellers—in Toronto.” She sighed. “So you can appreciate how quickly we wanted to leave the vicious rumours behind us. Jasper said the first thing he’ll do is buy me another one.” Time to change the subject. “As you’ve noticed, the ring isn’t the only item we left behind. I have three dresses with me, and one is only suitable for formal occasions. If I’m expected to change for dinner—”
Doris shook her head. “Oh no, don’t worry about that. We’re only going to Oliver’s. But we must remedy the state of your wardrobe as quickly as we can. Let’s go into town tomorrow. I’ll introduce you to my dressmaker and take you to the best shops.”
So, the ice queen was melting. “That would be lovely.” But she had no money! She’d have to get Jasper alone at Oliver’s and ask him to fork over some cash. The prospect of having to ask Jasper for money every time she needed something didn’t sit well with Pam. She was used to taking care of herself. Would Margaret have had money of her own? Had she received an allowance from her father? If Pam decided that she wanted to work, would Jasper protest? What careers would be open to her—truly open, not grudgingly open? The 1910 fairy tale suddenly lost some of its sparkle. She hadn’t thought much about life here beyond being with Jasper. What would she do with herself?
“We can make a day of it,” Doris said. “I’ll have Robert bring the carriage around about 9:00. I’ll show you some of the city in the morning. After lunch we’ll visit the shops.” She pressed her hands together. “Oh, and you’ll want to meet the neighbourhood wives and other young ladies. I’ll see who’s available for tea the day after next.”
Pam nodded. “Thank you.”
“Anyway, I’ll leave you to your nap. Ring for Bella if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” Pam said again. With a sinking heart, she watched Doris leave. She was grateful that Doris was willing to take her under her wing, but when would she see Jasper?
Chapter Five
