Once Upon a Remembrance

  In the salon, Lenore and one of the younger housemaids brought cakes and lemonade for everyone.

  "Miss, would you care for some lemonade?"

  Isabeau declined, then turned to find Belva by her side. "Perhaps you would like some coffee, my dear?"

  "No, thank you. I don't care for it."

  "It's a habit I picked up when I was younger," Belva admitted ruefully, shrugging.

  Isabeau sat on a plump, upholstered settee, smiling as Maize drew her attention to fresh flowers arranged in a vase on the table beside her. When she turned back, she realized Treat was studying her closely. When he saw she'd noticed, his face broke into a handsome smile.

  "Isabeau, I would hear of your home in the North." He took a seat on the settee beside her. "I am sure we are going to be the best of friends," he added.

  Isabeau felt a quiet unease, but manners dictated she just smile.

  #

  It was a pleasant afternoon. Isabeau smiled and talked, truly enjoying meeting Hawks Den's neighbors, but after about an hour, she began to have thoughts of escaping. She felt she needed to get to her room to lie down. She was suddenly feeling unbelievably tired. She supposed all the travelling was catching up with her. She just managed to catch herself from yawning.

  Belva must have realized she was drooping, because she sent one of the maids over to inquire if Isabeau would prefer to go to her room and freshen up before dinner.

  Without further ado, Isabeau told everyone good bye and left the room, no longer able to subdue her yawns once out in the hallway.

  "Isabeau --"

  She turned to find Treat had followed her from the room.

  "I do hope to see you again. May I come around this week so we can talk?"

  "I am not certain what my cousin Belva has planned," Isabeau said carefully. "I am here just a short time, I would not presume to know her schedule."

  "I'm sure I can persuade her to make allowances if I were to stop by," he said quite charmingly.

  "I will speak with Belva." With a small smile, she excused herself and followed Lenore's sister Hannah up the grand staircase.

  "Your room, miss," Hannah indicated the door and Isabeau entered the room. "Mistress Belva had it decorated special for your visit."

  "Thank you, Hannah," Isabeau managed to get out.

  Hannah looked worried. "Is there anything I can do before I leave -- perhaps a bath? Or I could unpack your trunk --"

  "No, thank you. I can take care of any unpacking."

  Isabeau closed the door, noticing the trunk with the clothes Pierce had purchased for her. It rested on a small stool at the foot of the bed. She opened the lid, her fingers lightly running over the fine clothes Pierce had purchased. She wondered if she should feel like a kept woman, then shrugged the notion aside. She'd do the same for Pierce if the situation were reversed.

  As she stood there, Isabeau was stuck abruptly by dizziness. She clutched at a chair, then sat down as the lightheadedness persisted.

  Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Her balance seemed off. Thankfully, the feeling subsided after several minutes.

  Wrapping her arms around her waist, she walked to the window. Pushing the casement open, she sank down to the wooden sill, then drew several steadying breaths of air. It took several more minutes before her equilibrium returned to normal. She recalled suffering frequent ear infections as a child and having similar attacks of dizziness.

  Isabeau rubbed her fingers over her forehead, then allowed her eyes to scan the room fully. Belva had taken great pains in decorating the room. Pierce had wired Belva from New York of their imminent arrival. The room now looked almost an exact replica of the room in the present time. The colors were similar as were the beautiful furnishings.

  Isabeau could not help but remain on edge, worried that now they were back the attempts on Pierce's life would surely continue.

  Would she get to meet the real Hawk Morgan?

  #

  In the week that followed, Isabeau found herself viewing life differently at Hawk's Den. Perhaps it was because of the love she and Pierce shared. There was always the underlying fear of what the future in this time held for both of them, especially with so many questions unanswered. Where was Hawk Morgan? When would the next attempt be on his/Pierce's life? She feared there would be more.

  Belva, however, seemed a changed woman -- a woman at peace with herself, involved with her gardens, but also taking an interest once more in the running of the house.

  New curtains had been ordered for many of the rooms, furniture moved about, some of it new, and fresh paint applied, inside and out, giving the house a much needed face lift.

  Not having known Belva before, Isabeau was amazed by the transformation of the woman.

  "She's back to her old self, the way she used to be," Maize told her one morning, a pleased smile on her lips.

  Pierce also remarked about the change in Belva. They were out riding, the early morning air cool as they stole an hour together before he left for the shipyard. She enjoyed accompanying Pierce as he checked in with the field workers and tenants before each day began.

  "Isabeau -- where are you?"

  She blinked, turning to give him a smile.

  "Daydreaming." She threw back her head. "I was wondering how our lives will work out when we return to our own time."

  "I've thought of it often myself," he admitted.

  "Of course we'll return," she said, knowing that's what he was thinking, the risk of staying here, the risk of being separated.

  "Malry and I have decided to hire a detective," he said abruptly.

  Isabeau nodded. "I think it's a good idea."

  "I've resisted up to now, but it's really getting time to be more aggressive. Malry has some connections."

  "Well, the sooner the better."

  She threw him a challenging grin and urged her mare into a trot. "I'll challenge you to a race."

  With a glint in his eye, Pierce said, "The stakes?"

  "Oh . . . I don't know," she drawled, "make it easy on yourself."

  "I like to bet on sure things, and there's no way your mare can beat Satan," he mocked, reining the prancing horse around as the animal tried to cow-kick Isabeau's horse. "Being a good sport, I'll take you up on it."

  "I'll bet I can beat you and do it good," she taunted.

  "You can try."

  Even before he finished speaking, she'd wheeled her horse around and started off.

  Pierce was right on her heels.

  He deliberately kept Satan behind her the entire distance, until the very last minute, then he let the straining animal leap ahead, passing her.

  All they had to cover was a short track around a belt of trees and Pierce would win the race …and the prize. Pierce savored the moment he'd get to pick the prize.

  Satan ate up the ground.

  Isabeau laughed and rode straight for the trees, not wasting the time it would take to go around. She knew her horse could not match Satan's speed so she counted on riding a more direct course. Through the trees, over a fallen log and up the small knoll.

  Triumphantly, out of breath, she circled her mare as he reached her a second later, his face dark with anger.

  Pierce jumped off Satan before the animal had come to a halt and reached up to pull her from her horse.

  "Are you crazy racing through those trees like that? You could have gotten killed, jumping over that mess. How do you know there wasn't a ditch or piece of farm machinery in there?"

  Isabeau laughed, she couldn't help it, he looked so mad. "You can't stand to lose!" she chortled. "I won fair and square."

  "You cheated," he accused her, shaking her.

  Isabeau realized he was really angry and had been afraid for her.

  Soberly, she said, "I'm sorry. I confess -- I did cheat, I do that sometimes. But before you get even angrier, I was here yesterday afternoon -- in this very spot. I knew it was safe to go through there. Honestly." She
ventured a small smile as an apology. "I wouldn't take a crazy chance with the horse."

  "Damn the horse," he muttered.

  "So -- since I cheated, my win is forfeit."

  "Forget it," he said darkly, a remnant of anger still remaining.

  "Well, if you're not going to claim victory," she said smartly, "then I will." She launched herself at him, catching him by surprise. His arms automatically enfolded her as they both crashed to the grass.

  "I guess I should let you cheat more often," Pierce muttered, covering her mouth with his most effectively. Isabeau wound her arms around his neck, smiling in contentment.

  #

  Isabeau passed a cooled glass of tea to Treat, wishing someone would come so she could leave.

  Pierce was at the shipyard, Belva, presumably, was lying down, and she was stuck in the salon on a beautiful spring day entertaining Treat.

  "Will you be going to the dance on Friday?" Treat asked her as he straightened his collar, pulling on the pristine white fabric.

  "I think Hawk mentioned it, yes. It's at the town hall?"

  Treat nodded. "I don't usually attend these gatherings, but I thought if you were going, perhaps…"

  Isabeau looked longingly out the glass doors. "Yes," she replied absently, "I believe we're planning on attending." With sudden inspiration, she came to her feet. "I know, Treat, why don't we go out in the garden? It's so beautifully warm, I hate to waste a day like this sitting inside…." her voice trailed off as he shook his head.

  "My dear, I would love to, but you know this time of year, those pesky little bugs are forever getting into one's eyes and hair." He smoothed a hand over his hair.

  Isabeau frowned. She had been cooped up in there for two hours.

  Pleasantly, she said, "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, and you are welcome to come with me, but I did promise Belva I would take care of the flower arrangements for tonight. I have to get out to the gardens right away if I'm to be through in time for dinner.

  "Please feel free to wait for Hawk to come in. He should be home in about an hour." Smiling graciously, Isabeau exited through the glass doors to the gardens.

  Treat had been coming to the house the entire week. It was now Thursday, and Isabeau had had all she could take of his talk of his mother, his house, and his clothes.

  His clothes, for God sakes!

  At first she had felt bad about being bored to tears, but she had listened to him day after day and now, neighbor or not, she had had enough.

  Isabeau ducked into the back kitchen to retrieve the pruning shears. Once more outside, she stopped in her tracks as she rounded the house, gritting her teeth when she saw Treat had braved the bugs and was waiting in the garden.

  "I imagine you could have ordered one of the girls to do this." He carefully picked his way across the lawn so his shoes didn't get any water on them due to the hard rain they'd received the night before.

  "I enjoy doing it," Isabeau said pleasantly enough. She stopped to watch him flick imaginary dust -- or something -- from his coat sleeve. "Er …don't you care for the outdoors?"

  Treat smiled at her, gallantly taking the basket from her arm. "Truthfully, I would rather be working inside." He gave a long suffering sigh. "I really never was one for the outdoors, even as a child."

  "But that's rather strange. I mean, since you and Hawk own a line of ships."

  He sighed. "That is my livelihood, Isabeau, it is something I must do."

  "Haven't you been neglecting your work all the time you've spent over here this week?"

  "I only keep the books occasionally for Hawk. It's worth it to come and see you, Isabeau. I really enjoy talking with you."

  Isabeau felt like a heel. That is, until he opened his mouth again. "There are not many marriageable women in this area that Mother would consider suitable. Since you hail from the North, and are of good family…" his voice trailed off.

  She viciously snipped off a bud, ignoring the fact that she cut it way too short.

  "That's a shame," she muttered, flinging the rose into the basket.

  "Oh, I grant you," Treat continued conversationally, "the girls about are pretty enough, but there's not much in the way of conversation, other than the latest fashion and such. You seem to rise above that, Isabeau."

  "Thank you for saying so," Isabeau murmured. "Oops -- sorry," she said apologetically as a branch slapped against his coat sleeve, dappling the material with drops of water.

  Treat bit his lip, but said nothing as he carefully brushed the drops away. "I like coming here to talk with you Isabeau, you don't put on airs. In fact, I have mentioned your name to Mother."

  That sounded ominous.

  "Mother would like to meet you. I thought perhaps --" he never finished the thought, for Isabeau accidently handed him a small bundle of roses, thorny stems first. He automatically grabbed them, then gave a howl, which he immediately stifled.

  "I'm really sorry," she exclaimed, "I'm usually not so clumsy. Here, I'll go inside and get something to wipe the blood."

  "No, that's fine. I believe it has stopped bleeding already. Now, as I was saying I would like you to meet Mother. A mother's approval is very important, don't you agree, Isabeau?"

  Vaguely, Isabeau nodded, her thoughts bordering on desperation. Spotting a patch of mud, she determinedly made her way toward it.

  "I would like to speak to Hawk, Isabeau, since you have no male relative close by, about keeping company with you."

  Isabeau stopped and drew a shallow breath into her lungs. "I don't think that's a good idea, Treat. You see, I will be very busy while I am visiting --"

  "Hawk has been rather busy. I can see he does not pay you proper attention. He also has a fiancée, which I am sure you are aware." Treat coughed delicately, then determinedly went on, "and the truth is, he's always rather liked the ladies, if you guess my meaning."

  Delicately lifting the hem of her gown, Isabeau then proceeded to trounce through the puddle, knowing her slippers would be ruined, but feeling it was worth the effort.

  "Oh, look," Treat stopped her with a dismayed look at her slippers.

  "It doesn't matter." Isabeau smilingly waved away his concern, sloshing through the rest of the mud to cut another flower, her toes curling. "Hawk has lots of money to buy me more. Why, he bought me an entire wardrobe on the way here. Mine were lost in transit, you know.

  "So Treat," she turned from him and walked toward the maze, "you don't really care for the outdoors? Myself, I love to be outside. Why, I'm out until all hours of the night, and as early as four in the morning. Some women, you know, don't like to be dirty, their hands, clothes, whatever -- why, it doesn't bother me one little bit.

  "I can't bear to be inside on any day, even when it rains. Have you ever walked in a rain storm, with thunder and lightning all around you?"

  "No," he admitted slowly, "I'd hate the wet rain down my neck."

   Isabeau stepped back. "Oops." She lifted her muddy slipper from the top of his shoe. "Oh, I'm so sorry, now you're all covered in mud. Here," she bent down. "Let me wipe that."

  She flicked ineffectively at the mud on his shoe with her hand, managing to smear it even more before he could get out of her reach.

  "That's all right, really," he protested, looking with dismay at his shoe. "I must be going, anyway. I know you have many things to do, as do I. Give my regards to your cousin and Hawk. Perhaps I'll see you sometime next week," he added hastily, literally shoving the basket at her. He tipped his hat and made a quick exit.

  "Not if I see you first," she muttered, wiping the mud from her hands on the grass.

  "You'll discourage the boy if you keep on like that," a voice mused from behind her. 

  Isabeau put down the basket and shears and turned to find Malry behind her. Hands on her hips, she said smartly, "I certainly hope so."

  Malry laughed.

  Gingerly, she lifted the skirt of her dress to eye the sodden mess of her slipper shoes.

  "Looks like th
ey're ruined," Malry remarked blandly.

  "It was well worth it." Isabeau kicked them off and proceeded to gather the remainder of the flowers she would need.

  Malry left, shaking his head -- no doubt thinking she was crazy.

  Isabeau sank down on a stone seat, then she laughed, throwing back her head and lifting her arms toward the sky.

  Maybe . . . just maybe, she was crazy. If she was, it felt just fine. 

  She closed her eyes and just as quickly a wave of weariness crept over her. She'd never felt so tired. Fear crept in, weighing her down, crowding to the forefront of her mind. They hadn't found out anything new in the time that they'd been back at Hawk's Den.

  Time. It was running out. May 19 was getting closer all the while. 

  Since their return to Hawk's Den, there hadn't been any more 'accidents.' Not, she conceded, that that meant anything. She hoped it wasn't the calm before the storm.

  #

  Pierce signaled the okay for Malry to follow him, and as the other man skirted the field, Pierce carefully made his way down toward the water. Shielding his lantern light, he ducked into a rock crevice and to all appearances seemed to disappear from Malry's sight.

  Malry followed, then ducked into the same cave entrance. Matters had escalated in the last day. The stakes were higher, and the time had arrived to stop the thieves at their game. Malry relished the call to adventure. Finally, they were making a move. They'd draw out the murderer by hurting him where he would feel it the most. In his pocket.

  "I don't know why I didn't think to check the caves before this," Malry said with a grimace.

   Pierce stood upright in the hollowed out cavern as it opened to a wider area. Water lapped at the secret cavern below them. "I should have remembered these were here."

  "Aye, we were too busy looking everywhere else to figure this out," Malry said. "Don't be too hard on yourself, lad. I've been at it longer even then you."

  "I know," Pierce said. "And now let's get to it."

  "The men are rowing in," Malry stated, looking at his timepiece with satisfaction. "Right on time." He traversed the cavern's damp ledge flooring and caught the edge of the first rowboat. "Men, let's start moving these crates -- quick and quiet you go." He smiled with delight. "Let's make the removal as easy as possible."

  Pierce, Malry and a handful of men loaded the crates as the boats entered the cavern by twos. It wasn't large enough to accommodate any more than that, so it took them a bit of time to load everything up. Once the bulk of the crates had been removed, all that remained were water marks on the floor where the contraband had been neatly stacked. As the last rowboat moved to the cave mouth which eventually led to the river, Pierce stared around the now-empty cavern with satisfaction.