Chapter Eight

“Tyndale?” Lady Tyndale’s voice shocked her out of her haze like a shot of adrenaline. “James, are you in there?”

James hopped back. Charlotte grasped the back of the chair she leaned against for support. A chill swept down her front at the loss of his warmth. She shivered. She sank into the chair, facing the smoldering fire in the grate.

James dropped onto the sofa. He picked up his glass and filled it with some brownish liquor. “Yes, Mother. I’m here.” He grimaced as he took a large gulp.

Lady Tyndale swept into the room, pausing only briefly to scan the area and locate her son. Her stern expression relaxed into a smile as her gaze fell upon Charlotte. “Miss Evans. I didn’t realize you were still up.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to respond with some inane platitude, but James interrupted. “We were discussing Prudence, Mother. Did you need to speak with me?”

“Quite obviously, I did, Tyndale. Otherwise, I would not be wandering around the house calling your name.”

Charlotte hid her snicker behind her hand. Lady Tyndale was a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure. The lady plucked James’s glass from his hand. She brought it to her nose and frowned. “Whiskey. How you can drink such an abominable liquid, I cannot imagine. It is no wonder your brother is so often in his cups when he visits.” She whisked the glass and decanter away from James and placed them on a table near the door. With a flick of her hand to some invisible servant in the hall, the drink disappeared.

“I should be getting back to Prue,” Charlotte said.

“Nonsense, dear.” Lady Tyndale waved her hand in dismissal of the idea. “I have been meaning to speak with you about the upcoming festivities.” She settled on the couch next to James. With a light slap to his shoulder, she motioned for him to sit straight. With a priceless grumpy little boy expression, he did as requested.

Charlotte stifled her giggle and resumed her seat. She schooled her face to show polite interest and forced her gaze away from James to focus on his mother. “Yes, my lady. Is there something you wish me to do?”

Lady Tyndale beamed at her. “Such understanding. It is a pleasure to speak with someone with your intelligence.” She paused as Worthing directed a maid into the room with a tea tray. Lady Tyndale got ready to pour the second the tray was laid before her. “Thank you, Sally. That will be all.” She poured as Sally curtsied and left. “Here you go, dear.”

Charlotte accepted the cup, shocked that the lady of the house saw fit to serve a governess. “Thank you, my lady.”

James simply watched, a quizzical expression on his face. His mouth tilted down in a slight frown of concentration, his brow furrowed. He looked as clueless as she was regarding his mother’s behavior.

“I can see that you have been a tremendous influence on our little Prudence. She’s come out of her shell, so to speak, since your arrival. I want to thank you for the excellent care you’ve given her.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” Charlotte said. She didn’t have to fake the sincerity or warmth in her voice. She had grown very fond of Prue in such a short time. “Miss Prudence is a lovely child. I fear I can take little credit for her—I’ve known her such a short time.”

“And yet she has become a happier child these past few weeks. I feel certain that has been your influence.”

Charlotte didn’t know what to say so she just nodded, waiting for Lady Tyndale to make her point. All this buttering her up made Charlotte nervous.

“There will be several events during the next several days at which I would enjoy having Prudence present. Normally, Theresa attends with her. However, I would appreciate it if you would take her place this year.”

“Has something happened to Theresa? I’d hate to ruin her fun.” Charlotte hid her scowl. She’d hoped to use the free time to make a trip to the caves. If she had to hang around the party, she wasn’t going to sneak away any time soon.

“Theresa is fine. So sweet of you to worry.” Lady Tyndale sipped her tea. “No. I just feel that Prudence enjoys your company so thoroughly and could benefit from seeing your example in a social situation such as the house party. And you can help her learn to handle herself in any uncomfortable moments. Theresa, while a wonderful nursemaid, is unable to deal with many situations.”

“Whatever are you getting at, Mother?” James asked.

Charlotte wondered the same.

Lady Tyndale replaced her cup on the tray and clasped her hands in her lap. “The other children, James.”

He frowned. “Are you saying Prudence has had trouble with the neighboring children?”

“No. Of course not. It’s the children of the ton that worry me.” She grasped Charlotte’s hand. “You’ll understand, I’m sure. Children born of privilege are not always the kindest of people.”

Charlotte snorted. “Children of any social class can be mean. Are you saying that Prue’s being picked on? Bullied?”

Lady Tyndale tapped her hand and sat back. “I knew you would understand immediately. Children can be cruel. Especially when there are no adults nearby to chastise them for their misbehavior.”

“Surely Theresa can oversee…” Charlotte trailed off. Now she got it. Theresa would have no problem chastising a servant’s child but would be hesitant to say anything to a child born to a higher class. One wrong word said by the child could cost Theresa her job. “I understand. Are you so certain I would have any sway?”

“You, at least, would be willing to step forward to protect Prudence.”

“Why does Prudence need protection?” James asked. He leaned forward, crowding his mother until she answered him.

“You know why, dear. The same reason you did.”

****

James threw the sheets back and leaped out of bed. He’d spent the last hour tossing and turning. Time to give up hope of a decent night’s sleep. His mother would be less than pleased with him come morning, but it was her words that kept him up.

Damn. He’d hoped for better for his daughter. The thought that she suffered from the vicious taunts of other children enraged him. Being the whipping post for society’s cruelty hurt. He’d dealt with as much his entire life.

He’d thought himself past caring. And for himself, he cared not. But for Prudence…she already suffered from Harriet’s loss. He couldn’t bear any more unpleasantness coming her way.

His clothing from the evening lay across the foot of his bed. Albert knew better than to wait up for him when he was in his cups. His mood rarely accommodated being fussed over by the elderly valet. One of the benefits of maintaining the same valet over the course of a lifetime. He knew when to stay and when to go.

It took James less than a minute to throw on the wrinkled clothing and head for the door. The urge to see Prudence spurred him on. Did a father’s worry ever end? He’d never expected to feel this way when he learned Harriet was enceinte.

The short stub of a candle he’d grabbed flickered as he made his way up the stairs and down the long hall to his daughter’s bedroom. The light wouldn’t last long. He should have selected a newer candle. This one had burned almost to its end.

A whisper of sound made him tense. A shadow slipped into his daughter’s room, and the door eased closed, blocking his way. Was Prudence all right? Her nursemaid was under strict orders to fetch him directly should there be any cause for worry.

The warmth of the door handle surprised him. Had someone paused before entering, their hand lingering on the handle as they decided whether to enter or not?

He inched the door open. Only enough to spy inside. He shielded his meager light so as not to disturb Prudence were she asleep. His daughter slept soundly on most occasions, yet the light of a candle falling across her eyes could wake her instantly.

A figure perched on the bed’s edge. Whispered voices refused to reveal the person’s identity, but he recognized the profile as Charlotte’s. Some of the tension eased in his shoulders. There was no panicked edge to their voices. Were something seriously wrong, he’d have known.

Prudence was awake however. He heard the high pitch of her giggle as Charlotte tickled her.

He nudged the door open wide enough to allow his entrance. Prudence glanced up at the squeaking of the hinges.

“Father!” She sat, one hand reached out in his direction.

He rushed to her side. She placed her tiny hand in his and smiled up at him.

“I did not expect to find you awake, little girl.”

She frowned. “I had a bad dream, Father. I couldn’t sleep so Miss Evans came to sit with me.”

A mass of hair had escaped from Prudence’s braid. It tangled wildly about her head. Charlotte swept a lock off Prudence’s forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “Just for a few minutes.” She peered up at him. “Did you wish to sit with Prue for a while, my lord? I can step out into the corridor until I’m needed.”

He shook his head. He didn’t want her to leave. “You may stay.” He sat near the headboard, his knee knocked against hers. She shifted in her seat as if burned. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely appropriate to sit on the bed with her, even in this most innocent of situations. He should consider that he might cause her some discomfort. Did she worry over her reputation?

She’d have to have some connections to society, any society, to have that concern. “Why don’t you tell us a story, Miss Evans?”

She blinked. He’d caught her off guard.

But she recovered quickly. She tapped a finger to her chin and tilted her head. “Hmm. What kind of story would you like, Prue?”

Prudence fairly danced in her bed. “The little lost princess from the future!”

The light was faint, but Charlotte’s blush was still evident. Curiosity egged him on. “I don’t believe I’ve heard that tale before. Please, do share it with us, Miss Evans.” Given her evident discomfort, the proper thing would be to suggest a different story, yet a perverse interest in what would cause such a reaction in the calm, steady governess urged him to ignore his better judgment.

And so she began a fantastical story about a future world of such wonders as could never be imagined. The hero of this journey was the princess, who was equal in all ways to a man, and in many ways superior, as she had knowledge of future inventions that defied belief. He found himself as drawn to the story as Prudence. When Charlotte fell silent, he clapped along with his daughter and expressed his admiration for the intrepid princess.

Yet the story was left unfinished. “And when does the princess meet her prince? Does he find the princess and save her from her trials?”

She shook her head. “The princess doesn’t need saving.”

He smiled. “Perhaps not, but how can she live happily ever after without a prince to marry?”

“Marriage is not the only path to happily ever after. The princess enjoyed her life as it was and wished only to return.”

He frowned at her frosty tone. He sensed he’d angered her but couldn’t imagine how. “Surely all women long for a family of their own? Without a husband and child to care for, her life would be without purpose.”

“There are other things to life than marriage and babies.” She leaned past him, her breast grazing his leg, as she kissed Prudence’s forehead. “Goodnight, Prue. Sleep tight.”

She didn’t so much as glance at him as she swept out of the room. What the bloody hell had just happened?

****

Charlotte stomped out of Prue’s room. Aggravation refused to allow her to contemplate returning to her bedroom. No way was she going back to bed in the mood she was in. She’d never fall asleep.

She wanted to throw something. Preferably at James’s head.

And he had absolutely no idea that he’d just been a complete ass. The confusion on his face when she stormed out was clear. She couldn’t blame him. After all, he’d been raised in this century. If events had been different, she’d have believed every stupid word he’d uttered. So many people, even in the future, still believed them.

That thought infuriated her even more. The idea that she could have believed her sole purpose in life was to get married and make babies with some idiot lord who saw her as little other than an incubator chilled her to the bone.

She needed to get out of the house. The wallpapered walls closed in on her as surely as the rough rock passages of the portal cavern. She sucked in breath after breath of stale air. She needed a cool breeze and the freedom of the yard.

The house was locked up for the night, but she knew where Mrs. Bailey left the key to the kitchen door. She would let herself out and be back before anyone could be disturbed by her absence.

She struggled with the lock. She’d left in such a hurry she hadn’t brought a candle with her. Moonlight filtered through windows at the ends of the upstairs corridors, but here in the back corner of the kitchen, she could barely make out the key hole.

Finally, the key slipped into the lock, and she won her freedom. At least for a short time. A leisurely stroll through the kitchen herb garden wasn’t what she needed. She strode straight through and out the gate at the opposite end. A worn path led down to the stables with branches leading off it—one to a small orchard, the other to the pond where she’d set up James’s fishing date with Prue.

Throwing rocks into the water might give her some satisfaction so she veered off to the left and down to the muddy bank. She gathered a number of stone pebbles and skipped them across the water. The moonlight flooded the area, providing more than enough light for her to see.

She threw a rock. Splash. That was for living life as a mere extension of a man. Another. Splash. That was for James believing a princess was nothing without a prince.

She sank down cross-legged at the edge of the water and took a deep calming breath of the crisp spring air. Mud seeped into the fabric under her bum. She was the idiot, not him. How could she blame him for believing in something he’d been taught was true his whole life? Had she remained with her birth parents, she’d have believed it too.

And what good was she doing Prue with her tales of the future and equality for women? Prue wouldn’t have the same opportunities she had. All she was doing was setting the poor girl up to be unhappy with her lot in life. She was trying to teach her she didn’t need a man to be happy. That she could be anything she wanted to be.

But it was all a lie. At this point in time, Prue couldn’t be anything she wanted to be. If she tried, she’d be ostracized. She might manage to eke out a living or, more likely, live off a pension her father would set up for her. But she wouldn’t be allowed to become a surgeon or fly a plane—planes had yet to be invented, and no one was going to allow a woman to cut them open.

So if she filled Prue’s head with visions of making a living at some fabulous job, she was setting her up for disappointment.

What should she do? She couldn’t bring herself to tell Prue her greatest achievement in life would be to provide an heir for some viscount or earl. She had to find some happy medium. Teach Prue to be true to herself, but within the framework of this society.

Because when she figured out a way to get home, Prue would be left with this society. And from all the hints Lady Tyndale had dropped, there was some scandal in the family’s past that continued to rise up and bite them in the arse once in a while. Charlotte may not have planned on this trip to the past, but since she was here, she best make the most of it.

As a governess she was theoretically preparing Prue to be an attractive mate for an appropriate man. Charlotte viewed her job as helping Prue to find future happiness. Finding a man to love and have a family were worthy goals. She had to remind herself of that. Hadn’t she spent two years with that loser, Arthur, because she’d dreamed of a happily ever after for herself? One that involved a loving relationship and family, as well as a satisfying career.

She needed to teach Prue to seek different qualities in a man than people would advocate for now. One who respected her and let her be herself. Not just some guy who had the right title and proper bloodlines.

She didn’t think James would object if she went about it the right way. He truly cared about Prue’s happiness. He was a good father. Just restricted by his upbringing.

So she had that all planned out. Great. But how long was she going to be here? She was no closer to figuring out how to get home than almost two months ago when she first arrived.

She’d taken care of her immediate need for food and shelter, then the rest had gone by the wayside. Not that she didn’t want to get home. She may have enjoyed a moment here or there, but this wasn’t her home anymore. Her home was in the future. With Steven and Alex. With her job at the hospital and hot, running water.

She needed a plan. Or at least a plan for how to come up with a plan. She laughed at herself. How convoluted was that. Keep it simple, stupid. Start with something easy and work her way around to solving the problem.

Tomorrow she’d find time to slip away before all the guests arrived. Stock the cave with supplies. Prepare to go back through the portal. Bring a lantern and attempt to see through to the other side.

She hadn’t exactly been at a hundred percent when she came through. Drugs and fear had clouded her judgment. Not to mention she hadn’t had the leisure time to inspect the portal.

She shivered. The pain she’d have to go through to return home turned her stomach. But she had to deal with it. What choice did she have? There was no other way to return.

She nodded to herself. It was just the beginnings of a plan, but all she had for now.

She leaped up and brushed herself off. There was no point in wallowing here in self-pity. The breeze that had been so welcome when she burst through the kitchen door now seemed icy and unfriendly. Her light linen night rail wasn’t meant for running around the English countryside in the middle of the night.