Chapter 1

Poem

It was late, very late. Ella closed her laptop and placed it on the bedside table. She sank down under the covers and hugged a pillow to her chest. The haunting words echoed; she knew the poem by heart. Every night she awoke and felt compelled by something beyond herself to flesh it out. Tonight she had finished it.

She whispered the words against her pillow.

Far into yesterday,
And beyond the realm of reason,
Memories of another love,
Another time,
Imprison my mind.

Silhouettes of his face,
Beyond the milky glass,
Touch my life with softness
For this other time
Within my mind.


A whispered phrase,
Beyond all hearing,
Communicates his devotion.
It transcends time
To lay still in my mind.

A passing fragrance,
Evoking nostalgic impressions,
Causes my breath to come deep.
The scent of his time,
Makes me wish it was mine.

Exhausted, Ella slept.

* * *

Ella Montclair, woman extraordinaire—that's how she thought of herself today. She was preparing for her trip to London, compliments of a new job. Her organizational skills had finally landed her the job of her dreams. She had been hired as research assistant to Sir Byron Thomas, the famous historian.

Ella grinned and reached for another empty box to store her belongings. Pulling out the bottom drawer of an old desk, she grabbed the contents. She had sublet her apartment and rented a storage unit for the items she was not taking with her. The more she could trash, the better. She flipped through the papers in her hand. Trash… not trash… not trash… trash… she paused; it was the poem.

In the years since it had been written, she'd gradually purged it from her memory. For a long time after it had been written, however, she'd quoted it nightly; and every night she'd been gripped by longing and loneliness. Finally, in an effort to salvage some semblance of peace of mind, she'd tucked it away, hoping to erase the haunting words from remembrance.

Ella moved her hand toward the trash pile. At the last minute, she changed her mind and slipped the poem into her briefcase.

* * *

The flights from Los Angeles to New York, and from New York to Heathrow Airport in London, were long, tedious, monotonous, but exciting: exciting because Ella felt like she was now doing something constructive and relevant with her life.

She had always felt “out-of-the-loop” as far as the direction of her life and her connection with other people were concerned. It was probably partly due to her upbringing as an only child by emotionally distant parents—parents that had been not only distant from her, but from each other. She could not recall ever having seen them touch in an intimate gesture, or even share an intimate glance. They were gone now: her father to a heart attack when she was fourteen, and her mother in a car accident five years later.

But were her parents the only reason she felt the way she did; why her preferred choices of recreation consisted of losing herself in historical novels or watching Victorian movies?

Ella pushed the thoughts of her parents aside as the international flight taxied to the terminal. She was finally in the United Kingdom. Lillian Thomas was going to meet her on the ground floor of Terminal One.

After exiting the plane, Ella followed the posted signs to passport control. With her passport and supporting documentation tucked neatly in her briefcase, she was ready to check through customs and begin her new life. The screening process, however, took longer than expected, and she felt nervous about making Lillian wait. Lillian was Sir Thomas's daughter, and had been her interviewer in Los Angeles.

At the interview, they had connected immediately after a shaky beginning in which Lillian had given her a startled look and stared at her with widened eyes. She had then apologized profusely for her rudeness. After that strange encounter, however, the interview had gone well enough.

Lillian had liked Ella's references as a historical research assistant for a respected, albeit, small travel magazine. Ella had been with the magazine since graduating from college seven years previously with a Bachelor's degree in history. When Lillian had called two days later offering her the job, she had been shocked. She had expected they would hire someone with at least a Master's degree.

Finally, Ella was permitted to leave customs and she followed the signs to baggage claim. Most of the travelers had already retrieved their baggage. She waited for hers to circle back around the loop. After claiming her luggage, she turned her attention to locating Terminal One.

“Ella…Ella.” She heard her name being called, and turned to see Lillian hastening toward her. Lillian was a lovely young woman, probably in her late twenties, the same as Ella. Ella was thrilled at seeing her again.

“I was worried about you, so I decided to see if I could locate you…and here you are.” Lillian smiled warmly.

“Going through customs took longer than I expected. I'm so—”

“Not to worry.” Lillian waved her concerns aside. “Let me help you with your luggage.”

Within minutes, they were outside the terminal and being greeted by the chauffeur of a sleek black limousine. “We wanted to impress you,” Lillian laughed. The chauffeur opened the door for the ladies and then loaded Ella's luggage. Ella leaned into the exquisitely upholstered seat and expelled a long sigh, releasing some of the tension caused from the long flights and building excitement.

“You must be very happy to finally arrive,” Lillian said in her beautifully proper English.

“I am.” Ella smiled contentedly.

“As we already discussed, we're going to Thomas Manor, about an hour away. My father's country home is just outside Farnham Village. We have a room for you in our home, unless, of course, you choose to live in the village. But we so hope you will remain with us. Once you're settled, my father is anxious to begin research on his latest book.”

“I'm anxious to begin work, too. I'm ready whenever you are.”

Lillian laughed, a musical sound, and said, “We don't
expect you to start for a least a few days. You need to acquaint yourself with the area. We want you to be happy here.”

Lillian's friendliness was contagious and Ella informed her that she didn't need a few days; only long enough to unpack and get a good night's sleep.

“Well, we'll talk about that later,” Lillian assured her.

The drive to Farnham Village was lovely, with rolling green hills, wooded expanses, and gentle rivers. It was everything Ella had expected, and more. Although she had researched the area before moving, she listened enraptured as Lillian proudly described the Old English market town in the County of Surrey. When the limousine drove into the village proper, Ella caught her breath at the beauty awash everywhere. Baskets and troughs of flowers of every imaginable color graced the businesses and homes lining narrow medieval brick and stone streets.

Lillian pointed toward Farnham Castle, which was within walking distance of the town. “It was built in the twelfth century.”

Ella gazed out the window at the ancient edifice standing sentry as it had for hundreds of years. The sight sent a tremor down her spine. She had never been here before, and yet …

She chastised herself. Of course it seems familiar, you goose; you’ve been reading about it on the internet. Still, the strange feeling persisted.

Less than a mile outside the village, the limousine pulled up before a country manor. Built in classic Georgian style architecture and created to harmonize with the landscape, it appeared warm and inviting. Lillian said the house had been erected around 1780. It was two-storied and boasted a center front door topped with an elaborate crown. Two windows appeared on either side of the door, and five windows stretched across the second story.

When Ella climbed from the limousine and gazed at the home of Sir Byron Thomas and Lillian Thomas, the same feeling quaked through her as when she had viewed Farnham Castle. She pushed the feeling aside, and exclaimed, “I love your home!” The goose bumps persisted.

“Your room is the last one on the right, on the second floor.” Lillian pointed. “You have a lovely view of Farnham Castle from your side window.”

Ella looked toward the castle and shivered.

Chapter 2

Research

Ella rested for two days at the insistence of her employer. Sir Thomas and Lillian wanted her to wait at least a week before beginning work, but she adamantly refused. She was anxious to prove herself worthy of the trust Lillian had placed in her abilities. Reluctantly, Sir Thomas relented.

Sir Thomas, in his late sixties, was frail and wore thick-rimmed glasses. He was everything one expected of a Professor of History. Because of his voluminous historical writings, he had received the honor of being knighted at the age of fifty-seven by the Queen.

Lillian said her father had married in his early forties to a young bride, and she had born Lillian exactly nine months, to the day, after their wedding. They had been happily married for ten years when her mother was suddenly taken ill and died of pneumonia. She said her father had never recovered from the loss, and often wandered in his mind back to happier times. She warned Ella that if he had a “spell”, it was best to leave him alone. He was incapable of communication. He would return to himself later.

Ella's office was in a corner of the well-stocked library. She spent her first days on the job familiarizing herself with her computer and software programs. After that, she perused the books in the library.

“I can't believe I've lived here all these years and never written the history of Farnham Castle,” Sir Thomas shared one morning.

“Well, I'm certainly happy to be the one helping with your research.”

Sir Thomas chuckled. “You say that now…you might change your mind in a few weeks.”

“Never.”

Sir Thomas laughed as heartily as his frail physique permitted, and said, “Let's get started.”

For the next week, Ella researched information on the internet and combed Sir Thomas's library for any references to Farnham Castle. The research was fascinating.

At the end of the week, Sir Thomas said it was time to visit the castle. However, on the day of their scheduled visit, he had one of his spells. Lillian said it was no use trying to bring him out of it, and insisted on staying with her father. She urged Ella, however, to keep the appointment at the castle. Ella was hesitant to leave Sir Thomas, but Lillian finally convinced her of the importance of continuing this phase of their research.

Because they were less than a mile from Farnham Castle, Ella decided to walk the distance. It was spring, the birds were chirping, the hills were green, and the sky was clear and blue. Besides having Sir Thomas with her, what more could she ask?

Dressed for comfort, in Levi's and a trendy peasant top, Ella crossed the vacant field surrounding the country home. Her new Skechers tennis shoes were just as comfortable as they looked, and she followed the path cutting through the forest—a shortcut Lillian had pointed out during her first days at Thomas Manor. It was lovely and meandering, with dappled light painting the forest floor. The trail exited on the southern boundary of the castle. It took her about thirty minutes to walk through the tall trees.

From the research she had already accomplished, Ella knew the castle had been refurbished. It was now an international business, training, and conference center, as well as a popular location for weddings and private events. She glanced at her watch. Her appointment was at ten o'clock with Mr. Flutter, the events coordinator. When she'd called him a few days earlier and explained the research she was doing with Sir Thomas, he'd been more than accommodating, even going so far as offering to pick them up at Sir Thomas's home. Ella smiled inwardly; there certainly was truth to the adage: It’s who you know.

She circled to the front of the castle and entered the main entrance that faced the inner courtyard at a diagonal. Approaching the reception desk, she asked for Mr. Flutter. Flashing a brilliant smile, the pretty receptionist waved her toward the Great Hall where she said Mr. Flutter was waiting. Ella entered the huge room tastefully painted in various shades of cream and accented with predominantly red furniture, but with a sprinkling of blue furniture adding contrast.

A short and rotund man, immaculately dressed in a three-piece suit, stood beside the massive fireplace. Although he greeted her warmly with a hearty handshake, he was clearly disappointed when she explained Sir Thomas was not with her. She apologized for his absence, but decided it wasn't her place to explain it.

“Very well, dear, where would you like to begin?”

“What about a tour?”

“Jolly good idea.”

For the next hour, Mr. Flutter escorted Ella throughout Farnham Castle. Incredibly, the castle boasted fourteen meeting rooms and thirty-two bedrooms. Several of the meeting rooms were in use by successful looking business men and women.

The magnificent library, overlooking the City of Farnham, was occupied by several people ensconced in comfortable chairs, sipping tea or coffee, while reading or carrying on quiet conversations.

After visiting the most obvious areas, Mr. Flutter led Ella to an area not accessible to the general public. His cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, excused the interruption, and answered the call. After hanging up he said, “I'm so sorry, Miss Montclair, but there's an emergency that requires my attention.”

“It's no problem, Mr. Flutter. Should I come with you and wait?”

“No, no, you just go ahead and browse this wing of the castle. I'm sure you'll find it most fascinating. It's not been updated like the rest.”

Mr. Flutter looked flustered and, with a final apology, hastened away to solve whatever problem required his assistance.

Ella wandered the long, empty hallway she had been abandoned to. There were doors on either side and, one by one, she began opening them. The rooms were mostly unfurnished, some with cracked and peeling wallpaper, some with bare stone walls, and others with barely hanging ancient tapestries. A few still retained miscellaneous pieces of furniture. Ella's imagination soared, and she thrilled at being in the presence of such antiquity.

Finally, she reached the last door in the hallway. Unexpectedly, her poem flashed through her mind, and a shiver of anticipation raced through her when she gripped the doorknob. “You silly goose,” she whispered, and opened the creaking door.

Inside, she was disappointed because there was no furniture, only peeling wallpaper. She was about to step back into the hallway, when a large painting hanging in a shadowy corner caught her attention. Now, that might be interesting.

She entered the room, softly closing the door.

Tattered velvet drapes allowed only a dim illumination of the chamber. Ella walked over and pulled them aside to allow in more light. Dust motes floated and danced in their new found freedom.

She turned and walked toward the painting. At fifteen feet, a male form was recognizable. Dressed in late nineteenth century garb, and leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed over his chest, he was tall and lean, but with a muscular physique. Longish black hair fell below his earlobes.

Five feet from the painting, Ella's heartbeat quickened. Riveting blue eyes against a sun-darkened complexion pulled at her. His clean shaven face, with arresting angles and planes, and a slightly crooked nose above the firm line of his mouth, made her knees weak. A hint of smile teased her. He wore tight fitting breeches and a loose fitting white shirt tucked into them. His long, muscular legs were covered to his knees in black leather boots.

Mesmerized, and now three feet from the painting, Ella's eyes locked on his and she stretched her fingers toward his face. Her breath hitched as the first stanza of her poem sprang to remembrance.

Far into yesterday
And beyond the realm of reason,
Memories of another love,
Another time,
Imprison my mind.

Two feet away… one foot… she caressed his cheek.

Chapter 3
Past

Ella's head wouldn't stop spinning, round and round it turned. She felt nauseous and weak. Although she heard footsteps and a door opening, she could only bend over, clutching her stomach.

“What the…” a baritone voice exclaimed.

Ella swung toward the voice and looked into the blue eyes of the owner. She squealed and fainted.

***

Sir Wallace Hastings, returning from an early morning horseback ride, entered his chamber to find himself staring into the startled eyes of a female. When he opened his mouth to scold her for the impropriety of being in his room, she fainted flat out on the Persian rug. Rushing over, he gently lifted and laid her across his bed. He blinked in disbelief. Never had he seen such clothing on a female. She was wearing pants, for God's sake, and the strangest shoes he had ever seen! She also wore some sort of gauzy blouse that allowed him a peek at her undergarments. Incredibly, she wasn't wearing a corset. Her soft shape was visible for anyone's view. Wallace didn't know if he had just died and gone to heaven, or descended into the pits of hell. He rushed to the water pitcher and dampened a cloth.

Bending over the strange woman, he patted the cloth on her forehead and tiny nose with its generous sprinkling of freckles. Massive freckles covered her arms. Because every lady of Lord Hastings' acquaintance attempted to retain an unblemished complexion, long sleeves and a bonnet were a necessity. Obviously, this woman was not concerned with freckles.

Her reddish hair was cut short and stuck out from her
head, the outer tips a pale blond. Wallace had never seen hair quite that color, and couldn't imagine why anyone would want such an unflattering style.

She was no beauty: her nose was too tiny and her cheeks too full. And all those freckles were distracting. Her body was also slim, almost to the point of boyishness.

Wallace shook his head. He was attracted to tall, dark-haired, voluptuous women. And yet…she was compelling.

He wiped her brow with the cool cloth. She moaned and opened her eyes. With a frightened intake of breath, she rose on her elbows and scooted backward on the bed. The headboard stopped her escape. Her breathing came in short, erratic gasps, and she looked at Wallace as if he was a creature from the dark woods.

“Who are you?” she gasped.

“I should be asking that of you.”

Wallace thought she might faint again, and spoke quickly. “My name is Lord Wallace Hastings. Now, who are you?”

She didn't answer. Was she addled? Had she escaped from somewhere? He raised his eyebrows indicating he was waiting for her reply.

“El…Ella Montclair.”

“Now, we're getting somewhere. How did you get into my room?”

“I…I…don't know.”

“Do you always dress like this?”

“Like what?”

Wallace scratched his head, “Er…in men's pants.”

The peculiar woman looked at her legs. “Yes…I mean, no—not in men's pants—these are women's jeans. I don't understand your question.”

Wallace scrubbed a hand over his face. The woman was

addled. She also spoke with an American accent.

“Are you an American?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I'm trying to help you. Are you an American?”

She nodded.

“How did you get here—to Farnham Castle, I mean?”

“I…I walked from Thomas Manor.”

“What!”

Chapter 4
Disclosure

Lord Hastings' shout sent the woman cowering further into the headboard. He was about to soften his voice and question her further, when a rap sounded on his door. The strange woman jumped and exclaimed, “Shit, what now?”

Wallace turned and glared at the woman, unable to believe the profanity that had erupted from her. He was so shocked that he forgot someone was at his door until he heard another knock.

He walked to the door and asked, “Who is it?”

“Wallace? I need to speak with you. It's your mother for goodness sake.”

Now, Wallace wanted to curse. How was he going to explain a woman in his bedroom? His mother knew he was no saint when it came to the ladies, but he would never parade one openly before her.

“Wallace? Open the door!”

“Great! How am I going to explain you?” he grumbled as he slowly turned the knob.

“Mother, we have situation here…”

“Wallace, I was wondering…” his mother began, but glanced into the room when the bed creaked. “Wallace!”

Wallace grabbed his mother's arm and pulled her quickly into the room.

“Shh…we don't want the whole house congregating in my bedroom. Mother, this is Ella Montclair. Miss Montclair, I'd like you to meet my mother, Lady Hastings.”

“What is a woman doing in your bedroom? I raised you to be a gentleman! If you must pursue women you cannot do it here! I am...”

“Mother, I'm as shocked as you are.”

“Wallace, what is she wearing? No decent woman
dresses in men's pants!”

***

Ella watched the exchange in utter confusion. Who were these people, and why were they dressed in period costumes? Why did the man look like the same man in the painting? She glanced around the room. The wallpaper wasn't peeling. The furniture was antique, but it didn't look old. She was getting a weird feeling about all this.

“What year is it?” she demanded.

The occupants of the room gave her a startled look, and she repeated her question more forcefully.

“What year is it?”

The woman the strange man had introduced as his mother spoke first. “How can you not know what year it is?”

“Oh, God! Oh, God! Please, tell me what year is it?”

The man squinted and said, “Eighteen eighty-eight.”

“Oh, shit!” Ella sputtered.

The woman gasped and grabbed the closest chair, falling into it.

In a stalemate, the three of them stared at each other.

“Mother, I returned to my room to find this woman doubled over in pain. Clearly, she's agitated and suffering physically and mentally. I'm not exactly sure what I should do? Do you have any ideas? I suppose we should try to find her family.”

“I have no family,” Ella said numbly.

“Do you think she's escaped from Bedlam?” the woman whispered to her son.

“I haven't escaped from anywhere. I don't know how to tell you this without your thinking me crazier than you already do, but…I'm from the future: the year 2010.”

Ella watched the older woman's hands flutter to the high neckline of her exquisite gown as she made a choking noise.

The gentleman sank into the chair beside his mother's. The standoff lasted for several minutes before the man spoke.

“Mother, I want you to find some servant's clothing for Miss Montclair. Obviously, she can't stay at Farnham Castle. If she's discovered, she'll be shipped to Bedlam, and I don't want that on my conscience. We need to get her to Thomas Manor, and then try to sort this out.”

“But Wallace, how will we explain her?”

The man named Wallace ignored his mother‟s question and ordered, “Go find some servant's clothing for her now

, Mother!”

Slowly, Lady Hastings stood, but when she saw the expression on her son's face, she hastened out the door.

“Miss Montclair, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but you should be grateful I'm not turning you over to the authorities. If you want to stay out of Bedlam Hospital, and believe me, you do, you'll do exactly as I say. Do you understand?”

Ella hugged her arms around her knees and nodded.

Thank you for reading the first four chapters of

'Far Into Yesterday'

Verna Clay

www.vernaclay.com

Impressum

Texte: Please enjoy the first four chapters. This book can be purchased at www.solstice.com; www.amazon.com; www.fictionwise.com Visit my website at: www.vernaclay.com
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 02.11.2010

Alle Rechte vorbehalten