“Thank you.” Gerti waved Primrose away and waited until she left the room. “You know I’ll do whatever I can. You only have to ask.” She picked up the pot and poured two cups of tea, then brought one over to place on the dressing table. The steam rose, the smell reached her nose and she sniffed it, knowing it was exactly what she’d been served at the nursing home when she visited the elderly Primrose yesterday.
What had she said? Gertrude disappeared and nobody saying where she’d gone. Wilhelmina killed in a train accident and their father acting strange in the days leading up to that and afterwards. And how Primrose didn’t believe a word of it but didn’t have the capacity to do anything about it considering her position.
“Can we take a walk around the garden while we talk? You’re right, it might jar a memory or two being outside in the fresh air.” She sipped the tea and wished for her favourite drug of choice, coffee. She needed to get a grip. Nothing good would come out of her panicking over something she had no control over. The first thing she had to sort out was why she was here and how the hell to get back home. In the meantime, she had to survive.
She could feel the stitches coming unravelled in her mind, unable to process what had happened to her. Sure, she understood where she was and what timeframe but not why. Had she done something wrong, touched something she shouldn’t have? Could it be a trick of her mind because of what had happened in the past? Not getting over one’s husband’s death could leave some people seriously shell shocked. She didn’t think she fit the bill as that crazy, at least not yet. Perhaps she was wrong.
“But you don’t like the gardens, Wilz, at least not the flower gardens. You prefer the forest and the rest of the estate to Mama’s rose beds.”
“Please humour me. I merely want to walk outside and try to remember. It’s not important which garden we traverse so long as I’m outside in the fresh air.” Perhaps if she wandered in the rose gardens, she might remember or come to understand the letters more and Lucy’s connection to this place. There had to be something. She couldn’t be losing her mind. She sipped the tea more to steady her nerves than anything else, to give her something to do with her hands. The research she’d done for this trip had been extensive as was her way. The personal touches she would get from the two remaining living staff members, but she’d already found out enough information to work with. Would it be enough for her to get away with her new role as Wilz though for as long as her mind kept her trapped here?
She put the cup on the tray, stood up, smoothed down the skirt and fished under the edge of the bed for her shoes. She slipped them on her feet, lifting them one at a time to do up the tiny brown buttons. “Let’s go.” She slipped her arm through her sister’s elbow and let her lead the way.
They left the bedroom and she shivered under the stares of ancestors peering down at them. They were as menacing as she’d seen them yesterday. Domineering and cold.
Light from a hanging chandelier brightened the overly dark wood of the foyer and she took the time to get her bearings. Flowers stood on pedestals in the alcoves along the way all around the gallery. The small dark alcove where she’d been trapped earlier was visible, the door ajar. “That door …”
“The servants’ stairs, yes.” Gertie stood next to her, waiting for her to move, an encouraging smile on her face. “Shall we?”
She focused on the door she’d crossed yesterday and nodded her head.
They passed by and another shiver crept over her skin. “What’s in there?”
“That’s Papa’s study. Did you want to have a look inside? He’s not there, I think he went out with Mr. Hughes earlier.”
“No.” She gripped the banister on the sweeping staircase and started her descent, her stomach in a mass of knots. The thick red carpet cushioned her feet as she made her way down the stairs. She needed to get out of this depressive house before a panic attack set in.
Their shoes clicked on the wooden floor as they crossed the hallway to the heavy front door. Gertie gripped the handle and pulled it open, letting sunlight stream into the house.
The gasp of fresh air was just what she needed. She hurried outside and down the steps to the driveway, her feet making crunching noises as she searched for her car.
There was nothing there, not even an oil spot to show where she’d parked. Crestfallen, she bit back the scream of frustration in her throat. Of course it wasn’t there. She was no longer in the 1980s and her car hadn’t even been dreamed of yet.
“Let’s go down to the lake. It’s so pretty right now with the baby ducks and the swans. It’s one of the things I’m going to miss when I leave here. The lake and the roses, Mama’s roses.”
Together they hiked down over the rich green waves of emerald grass to the picture-perfect lake. Black swans glided over the water followed by tiny fluffy cygnets in perfect formation behind them, just as she’d seen in the photograph on Mr. Wilkes’s wall. At the water’s edge, small blue water hens stalked on red stilted legs and picked at flying insects, crying out in a range of peeps to their mates.
As they got closer to the water,
