Trapped in Time Read online

  This was bad—very bad, she realized as she took in the offended look on the Viscount’s face and saw that he was between her and the door. How was she going to get out of here? Was he going to kill her too? Paranoia and fear crawled over her skin like bugs and she had to fight not to scratch at her arms.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t kill me! I won’t tell anyone what you did if you just please let me go!”

  “Kill you?” Lord Harkens’ eyes widened and he frowned at her uncertainly. “My dear Miss Lambert, whatever are you on about? Have you taken leave of your senses?”

  At this, Caroline became even more paranoid.

  He thinks you’re crazy, whispered the panicked little voice in her skull. Quick, explain it to him—let him know you’re not mad!

  “I’m not crazy,” she blurted, staring at him. “I’m really not—I’m perfectly sane! I only sound crazy because I don’t belong here. See, I’m from another world. I invented a machine called PORTAL—that’s short for Positronic Orbital Rotating Time/Space Allocating Locator—that can open a window into another universe. And I thought that was all it was—just a window. But I got sucked through it and into the other Caroline’s life and I wound up here—only I don’t know how to act because I never really read up on the reality of life in the nineteenth century—I just binged BBC dramas whenever I got a chance. It was kind of a guilty pleasure—something I did to take a break from my research when I was feeling stressed. Although, to be honest, your universe’s version of the Victorian era isn’t exactly like mine. You have those weird wind-up carriages and the creepy Tick-Tock servants. It’s kind of steampunk but it’s still a lot more than I bargained for. Not that I ever thought I’d get trapped in another universe—another time but here I am and I—”

  At that moment, the other mother and Richard both came rushing into the room.

  “Caroline!” the other mother exclaimed. “What in the world has come over you? I could hear you babbling all the way down the hall!”

  “I’ll tell you what’s come over her…” In two long strides, Richard had closed the distance between them. He brushed past the incensed Lord Harkens and took Caroline’s face in his hands, studying her eyes. “Cocaine intoxication—that’s what’s the matter,” he said grimly. He looked between Harkens and the other mother. “Which of you gave it to her and how much did you give? She’s nearly frantic with it!”

  “I don’t know what you are speaking of, Dr. Vii,” Lord Harkens blustered. “Furthermore, I do not remember issuing you an invitation to my home. In fact, I thought I made it quite clear after the last time you were here that you were never welcome at Thrashings Hall again!”

  “And I would have been happy to stay away. However I found out that you intended to have my wife for tea, which necessitated my presence here,” Richard growled. “I came straight away to get her and this is what I find! Was it you that gave her the drug?”

  “She only had a little cocaine,” the other mother exclaimed as Lord Harkens began to bluster again. “It was in some sweetening syrup that Lady Harkens put in her tea. It’s really quite harmless.”

  “Not in large doses, it isn’t,” Richard snapped. “Cocaine is a stimulant—it forces the heart to work harder than it otherwise would, which can be dangerous.”

  Caroline nodded at him, putting a hand to her chest.

  “Pumping so hard,” she whispered in a breathless gasp. “Can…can you give me anything to calm it down? It’s terrible—I’m really bad at drugs. They do weird things to me.”

  “I know they do,” Richard said, frowning at her. “You’ve always had a very sensitive system.” He looked accusingly at the other mother. “A fact that you, Mrs. Lambert, ought to know, as Caroline is your daughter. Or maybe you do know it but you’re so bent on social advancement you refuse to see anything else.”

  “How dare you, Sir!” the other mother exclaimed. “Of course I know my own daughter—and what’s best for her. Which at the moment, is getting away from you.”

  She came over and grabbed at Caroline’s hand, tugging her away from Richard despite her weak protests.

  “I think it best that you all leave now,” Lord Harkens said, scowling. “I fear this meeting has not gone as planned.”

  “If you planned to take my wife, certainly not,” Richard snarled, showing his fangs. “I can promise you, Harkens, that Caroline will not end her days as the former occupant of this room did—not while I still draw breath, that is.”

  The rotund Viscount grew pale and took a single step back.

  “Out, Sir!” he said, pointing to the doorway. “Get out and do not darken my door again.”

  “I will stay away with pleasure, as long as you keep your distance from Caroline.” Richard’s voice was a low, menacing growl. “Remember—I will be watching.” With that, he withdrew from the room, pacing on his long legs out into the drawing room and the hall beyond.

  “Lord Harkens, I assure you—” the other mother began but the Viscount shook his head.

  “Mrs. Lambert, I am sorry but I fear that any discussion of this afternoon’s events must be deferred to a later time. I am not accustomed to being accused in my own home and I am not prepared to speak of it now, or indeed, ever again.”

  “Oh, Lord Harkens,” the other mother exclaimed, fluttering with distress. “Please believe me when I say that Dr. Vii will do or say anything to keep Caroline bound to him but I promise you—”

  “It was not Dr. Vii that I was speaking of when I said that I am not accustomed to being accused,” the Viscount said coldly. “It was your daughter. Good day, Madam.”

  His words were so clearly a dismissal that the other mother had no choice but to go, dragging Caroline, her heart still pounding wildly, behind her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Whatever did you say to him?” the other mother demanded, once they were back in the carriage and on the way home. “What in Heaven’s name did you say to Lord Harkens to so offend him and drive him off?”

  “I said he was a serial killer,” Caroline snapped. “And if he’s not, he certainly acts like one!”

  “A what kind of killer?” the other mother demanded. “And why would you accuse him of something like that? What in the world possessed you, Caroline?”

  “Didn’t you see those pictures in that room?” Caroline exclaimed. “Those two pictures were of the same woman—his last wife before and after she died! He took a picture of her after she was dead!”

  “Well, poor man, he must have wanted something to remember her by,” the other mother exclaimed. “Why would that upset you? We have a picture hanging in our very own parlor of your poor Grand-pa-pa in his coffin.” She sighed. “Ah, how I miss him sometimes!”

  “We do?” Caroline stared at her. “Are you saying that it’s considered normal to take pictures of dead bodies before you bury them?”

  “Must you be so crass?” the other mother snapped. “But yes—of course it is. One likes to have a last remembrance of the dear departed—getting a daguerreotype done is the best and easiest way.”

  “That’s weird.” Caroline shook her head. “But you don’t understand—that wasn’t all he had! He had also saved his dead wife’s hair and had it braided into a wreath.” She shivered. “Like some kind of a trophy.”

  “He had a mourning wreath made as well? How sweet.” The other mother shook her head. “How he must have loved her. Poor man! To be so recently bereaved and then to have you accuse him of Heaven only knows what when he was only trying to remember his poor dear wife!”

  “Wait…so making wreathes out of dead people’s hair is normal too?”

  Caroline was beginning to feel like she was taking crazy pills. How could this kind of activity be considered perfectly socially acceptable in the same society where people fainted if you lifted your skirts too high and flashed somebody with an ankle? What was wrong with this world? Had things like this been normal in her own version of the nineteenth century or was this unive