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Authors: Gloria Gay
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CHAPTER 7
“Time travel,” said Jestyn, “You must agree with me that there has never been an instance of actual proven time travel. Has there been one in your time?” Jane could see that Jestyn was extremely interested in this and believed all she had said to him. She realized that the more time she spent with him the more attracted she became to him. That he belonged to another era was a cruel joke.
“No,” Jane responded. Time travel is just a wish in our time. No one has ever accomplished it. But that doesn’t keep people from writing novels about it. I still find it hard to believe you’re real, Jestyn. I feel as though I will wake up from this and find it was all a dream.” Her hand instinctively went to the pendant that hung from her neck. She was protective of it. The pendant had brought her here; the pendant would take her back. She was certain of it, yet how? And in what manner was this to be accomplished?
Jestyn’s smile at her words was very appealing. Jane felt a stirring in her loins as she gazed at the blue eyes and dark hair of Jestyn in the flesh rather than his portrait. It was incredible that she was speaking to the young man who had posed for the portrait she had been so much drawn to. And she was surprised how much she wanted to feel his lips on hers!
Jane would have been surprised had she known his thoughts were the same as hers. She realized they had moved closer to each other as they talked. He had pulled his chair closer to her bed and she had pulled forward in the bed. She pulled back a little. She wasn’t going to set her heart up for heartbreak a second time.
“You also said you went on a tour of my house,” Jestyn said, jerking Jane back from unsettling thoughts and feelings.
“Yes. But we’re talking about your house in the year 2015. The National Trust, an institution that manages historical buildings, is in charge of it. But there is something I must tell you. During the first and second tours it was disclosed in the pamphlet they give out to tourists that you and Cedric died at the hands of highwaymen on returning from a masquerade ball!”
“What was the date on which that happened,” Jestyn asked.
“April 17, 1803, Jestyn.”
Jestyn and Jane looked deeply into each other’s eyes.
“Yesterday, April 17,” said Jestyn.
“The date was printed on the tour brochure. I remembered the date because April 18 is my friend, Cybil’s birthday and I had written a note to myself to buy her a birthday gift…”
“Did the pamphlet describe the area where it happened?” Jestyn asked.
“Yes, I remember it because of the name of the bridge, it’s a name that sticks in your mind – It was Mystic Bridge.”
“Jane,” Jestyn said slowly, “you flashed that lantern at my carriage a few feet from Mystic Bridge.”
After a long silence, Jestyn said: “Could it be that you were sent to the past to save Cedric and me?”
“The pamphlet said that the attack occurred near a large rock a few feet before the entrance to the bridge,” Jane said, her voice strained.
“There’s a large rock by the entrance to Mystic Bridge near where you tried to stop my carriage,” Jestyn said. “And there’s no rock on the other side of the bridge.
“I believe Ced and I owe you our lives.”
Jestyn shook his head and for a while they quietly pondered this.
Then Jestyn broke the silence. “Tell me more about the estate as it is in your time.”
“Well, in the latter part of the nineteenth century the estate had been in disrepair while the bankers and lawyers wrangled as to who the heirs were.
“During the decades that followed it was turned into a museum, a bank, a school. At the end of the nineteenth century, the management of your house was taken over by the National Trust and its rightful history was restored. The portraits of your family were recovered from a bank vault and much of the furniture that was still in the house, squirreled away in the
CHAPTER 7
“Time travel,” said Jestyn, “You must agree with me that there has never been an instance of actual proven time travel. Has there been one in your time?” Jane could see that Jestyn was extremely interested in this and believed all she had said to him. She realized that the more time she spent with him the more attracted she became to him. That he belonged to another era was a cruel joke.
“No,” Jane responded. Time travel is just a wish in our time. No one has ever accomplished it. But that doesn’t keep people from writing novels about it. I still find it hard to believe you’re real, Jestyn. I feel as though I will wake up from this and find it was all a dream.” Her hand instinctively went to the pendant that hung from her neck. She was protective of it. The pendant had brought her here; the pendant would take her back. She was certain of it, yet how? And in what manner was this to be accomplished?
Jestyn’s smile at her words was very appealing. Jane felt a stirring in her loins as she gazed at the blue eyes and dark hair of Jestyn in the flesh rather than his portrait. It was incredible that she was speaking to the young man who had posed for the portrait she had been so much drawn to. And she was surprised how much she wanted to feel his lips on hers!
Jane would have been surprised had she known his thoughts were the same as hers. She realized they had moved closer to each other as they talked. He had pulled his chair closer to her bed and she had pulled forward in the bed. She pulled back a little. She wasn’t going to set her heart up for heartbreak a second time.
“You also said you went on a tour of my house,” Jestyn said, jerking Jane back from unsettling thoughts and feelings.
“Yes. But we’re talking about your house in the year 2015. The National Trust, an institution that manages historical buildings, is in charge of it. But there is something I must tell you. During the first and second tours it was disclosed in the pamphlet they give out to tourists that you and Cedric died at the hands of highwaymen on returning from a masquerade ball!”
“What was the date on which that happened,” Jestyn asked.
“April 17, 1803, Jestyn.”
Jestyn and Jane looked deeply into each other’s eyes.
“Yesterday, April 17,” said Jestyn.
“The date was printed on the tour brochure. I remembered the date because April 18 is my friend, Cybil’s birthday and I had written a note to myself to buy her a birthday gift…”
“Did the pamphlet describe the area where it happened?” Jestyn asked.
“Yes, I remember it because of the name of the bridge, it’s a name that sticks in your mind – It was Mystic Bridge.”
“Jane,” Jestyn said slowly, “you flashed that lantern at my carriage a few feet from Mystic Bridge.”
After a long silence, Jestyn said: “Could it be that you were sent to the past to save Cedric and me?”
“The pamphlet said that the attack occurred near a large rock a few feet before the entrance to the bridge,” Jane said, her voice strained.
“There’s a large rock by the entrance to Mystic Bridge near where you tried to stop my carriage,” Jestyn said. “And there’s no rock on the other side of the bridge.
“I believe Ced and I owe you our lives.”
Jestyn shook his head and for a while they quietly pondered this.
Then Jestyn broke the silence. “Tell me more about the estate as it is in your time.”
“Well, in the latter part of the nineteenth century the estate had been in disrepair while the bankers and lawyers wrangled as to who the heirs were.
“During the decades that followed it was turned into a museum, a bank, a school. At the end of the nineteenth century, the management of your house was taken over by the National Trust and its rightful history was restored. The portraits of your family were recovered from a bank vault and much of the furniture that was still in the house, squirreled away in the
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