A Knight in Shining Armor

  Leaning back against the old stone wall, she blinked away tears. “Nicholas, come back to me,” she whispered. “Please come back to me.”

  She sat there for a long time before she rose. She’d missed lunch, so she went to the tea shop and sat down with a plate of scones and a pot of strong black tea. She’d bought a guidebook at Bellwood and one at Thornwyck, and as she ate and drank, she read.

  With every word she read, she told herself that what had happened had been worth the pain of losing the man she loved. What did the love between two people matter when, by giving up their love, they had changed history? Kit had lived, Lady Margaret had lived, James had lived—and Nicholas had lived. And with their lives, the family honor had been saved, so that today a Stafford was a duke and part of the royal family.

  Against all that, what did one piddling little love affair mean?

  She left the tea shop and walked to the train station. She could go home now, she thought, home to America, home to her family. No more would she be an outsider, and never again would she have to pretend to be someone she was not.

  On the train ride back to Ashburton, she told herself that she should be jubilant. She and Nicholas had accomplished so much. How many other people had had the good fortune to be able to change history? Yet Dougless had been given that opportunity. Through her efforts the Stafford family was doing well. There were beautiful buildings standing because she had encouraged Nicholas to use his talent for designing. There were . . .

  Her thoughts trailed off. It was no use telling herself what she should feel, because what she did feel was miserable.

  In Ashburton she slowly walked back to the hotel. She’d need to call the airlines and make reservations.

  In the lobby, Robert and Gloria were waiting for her. At the moment she didn’t think she could handle a confrontation. She hardly looked at Robert. “I’ll get the bracelet,” she said, then turned away before he could speak.

  Catching her arm, he halted her. “Dougless, could we talk?”

  She stiffened, preparing herself for his abuse. “I told you I’d get the bracelet for you, and I apologize for keeping it.”

  “Please,” he said, and his eyes were soft.

  Dougless looked at Gloria. Gone from the girl’s face was the smug, I’m-going-to-get-you look. Wary, Dougless went to sit on a chair across from father and daughter. Lucy, and Robert Sydney, Dougless thought. How much Gloria looked like Kit’s bride-to-be and how much this Robert resembled a sixteenth-century Robert. Dougless thought of how she and Nicholas had changed the lives of both of those people. Robert Sydney had been given no reason to hate Nicholas because Arabella had not been impregnated on a table. And Dougless had helped Lucy gain some self-confidence.

  Robert cleared his throat, then spoke. “Gloria and I have been talking, and we, well, we decided that maybe we weren’t quite fair to you.”

  Dougless stared at him, her eyes wide. At one point in her life she had looked at Robert while wearing a blindfold. She saw only what she’d wanted to see; she had endowed him with characteristics that he didn’t have. Now, looking back at their life together, she saw that he’d never loved her. “What do you want from me?” she asked tiredly.

  “We just wanted to apologize,” Robert said, “and we’d like for you to join us on the rest of the trip.”

  “You can sit in front,” Gloria said.

  Dougless looked from one to the other, puzzled, not by their words, for Robert would often apologize to get her to do what he wanted, but by the sincere looks on their faces. It was almost as though they really meant what they were saying. “No,” she said softly, “I’m going home tomorrow.”

  Robert reached out and took her hand. “Home to my house, I hope.” His eyes were bright. “To the house that will be ours as soon as we’re married.”

  “Married?” Dougless whispered.

  “Please, Dougless, I’m asking you to marry me. I was a fool not to see how good we were together.”

  Dougless gave a bit of a smile. Here was what she’d wanted so much: marriage to a respectable, stable man.

  She took a deep breath and smiled more broadly, for suddenly she didn’t feel like selling herself so cheaply. She was no longer the baby of the family who wasn’t as good as her big sisters. She was a woman who had been transported to a foreign time, and not only had she survived, she had succeeded in accomplishing a monumental task. No longer did she need to prove herself to her too-perfect family by bringing home an achieving husband. No, Dougless was the achiever now.

  She picked up Robert’s hand and put it back on his lap. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said pleasantly.

  “But I thought you wanted to get married.” He looked to be genuinely confused.

  “And Daddy said I could be your maid of honor,” Gloria said.

  “When I do get married, it will be to someone who wants to give to me,” Dougless said, then looked at Gloria. “And I will choose my own bridesmaids.”

  Gloria turned red and looked down at her hands.

  “You’ve changed, Dougless,” Robert said softly.

  “I have, haven’t I?” she answered, wonder in her voice. “I really, truly have changed.” She stood up. “I’ll get your bracelet now.”

  When she started toward the stairs, Robert followed her, Gloria remaining in the lobby. He didn’t speak to her until she unlocked her room and went inside. Following her inside, he shut the door behind him.

  “Dougless, is it someone else?”

  She took the diamond bracelet from where she’d hidden it in her suitcase and held it out to him. “There is no one,” she said, feeling the loss of Nicholas.

  “Not even the man you said you were helping to research?”

  “The research is done, and he’s . . . gone.”

  “Permanently?”

  “As permanently as time can manage.” She looked away a moment, then back at him. “I’m quite tired now, and I have a long flight tomorrow, so I’ll say good-bye. When I get back to the States, I’ll clear my things out of your house.”

  “Dougless, please reconsider. We can’t end what we’ve had because of a little argument. We love each other.”

  When she looked at him, she thought about how at one time in her life she’d thought she loved him. But now she knew their relationship had been one-sided, with Dougless doing all the pleading, all the trying-to-please. “What has changed you?” she asked. “How could you leave me stranded in a foreign country with no money just a few days ago and now be here asking me to marry you?”

  Robert’s face turned a bit red, and he looked away sheepishly. “I really do apologize about that.” When he looked back at her, his face was filled with sincerity—and also a little confusion. “It was the oddest thing. You know, all your family’s money used to make me furious. I put myself through medical school while living on canned beans, yet you’d always had everything. You have a family who adores you and a history of wealth that goes back centuries. I hated the way you used to play at living on your teacher’s salary, because I knew you could get all the money you ever wanted if you’d just ask. When I left you at that church, I knew Gloria had your bag, and I was glad. I wanted you to see what it was like to have to survive without money, to have to rely on yourself as I’ve always had to.”

  He took a breath and his face softened. “But then, yesterday, everything changed. Gloria and I were in a restaurant, and quite suddenly I wished you were with us. I . . . I wasn’t angry at you anymore. Does that make sense? All the anger I felt for your having been given everything just evaporated. Gone, as though it’d never been there.”

  He went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I was a fool to let someone like you get away. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. We don’t have to get married if you don’t want to. We don’t have to live together. I’ll . . . I’ll court you if you’ll allow me. I’ll court you with flowers and candy and . . . and balloons. What do you say? Give me
another chance?”

  Dougless stared at him. He said that yesterday his anger had left him. All her days in the sixteenth century had passed in just a few minutes of twentieth-century time, and during her time with Nicholas, she had defused the anger of Robert’s and Gloria’s look-alikes. Could this Robert’s anger have been based on his bitterness over what had happened in the sixteenth century? When Robert had first seen Nicholas, he had looked at him with rage. Why? Because Nicholas had once impregnated his wife?

  And Gloria seemed to be no longer angry with Dougless. Because Dougless had helped an earlier incarnation of Gloria? Because an earlier Gloria no longer believed the man she loved wanted Dougless?

  Dougless gave her head a shake to clear it. Were I to die tomorrow, my soul would remember you, Nicholas had said. Did Robert and Gloria have the souls of people who had lived before?

  “Will you give me another chance?” Robert repeated.

  Smiling, Dougless kissed him on the cheek. “No,” she said, “although I thank you very much for the offer.”

  When she pulled away from him, Dougless was glad to see he wasn’t angry. “Someone else?” he asked again, as though his ego could stand that rejection better than her choosing to have no one rather than him.

  “Sort of.”

  Robert looked at the bracelet in his hand. “If I’d bought an engagement ring instead of this . . . Well, who knows?” He looked back at her. “He’s a lucky S.O.B, whoever he is. I wish you all the luck in the world.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Dougless stood in the empty room for a moment, then went to the telephone to call her parents. She wanted to hear the sound of their voices.

  Elizabeth answered.

  “Are Mother and Dad back yet?” Dougless asked.

  “No, they’re still at the cabin. Dougless, I demand that you tell me what is going on. If you’re in one of your scrapes again, you’d better tell me so I can get you out of it. You aren’t the one in jail this time, are you?”

  Dougless was amazed to find that the words of her perfect older sister didn’t anger her, nor did they make her feel guilty. “Elizabeth,” she said firmly, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t speak to me in that manner. I called to tell my family that I am coming home.”

  “Oh,” Elizabeth said. “I didn’t mean anything; it’s just that usually you’re in one mess or another.”

  Dougless did not speak.

  “Okay, I apologize. Would you like me to meet you and Robert at the airport, or does he have his car?”

  “Robert won’t be with me.”

  “Oh,” Elizabeth said again, allowing time for Dougless to explain. When Dougless was silent, Elizabeth went on. “Dougless, we’ll all be very glad to see you.”

  “And I’ll be glad to see you. Don’t meet me, I’ll rent a car, and, Elizabeth, I’ve missed you.”

  There was a pause, then Elizabeth said, “Come home and I’ll cook a celebration dinner.”

  Dougless groaned. “When did you say Mother was returning?”

  “All right, so I’m not the world’s best cook. You cook, I’ll clean up the kitchen.”

  “It’s a deal. I’ll be there day after tomorrow.”

  “Dougless!” Elizabeth said. “I’ve missed you too.”

  Dougless put down the telephone and smiled. It seemed that not only had history changed, but so had the present. She knew, felt inside herself, that never again was she going to be the butt of the family’s jokes, because no longer did she feel incompetent, as though she couldn’t handle her own life.

  She called Heathrow, booked her flight, then began to pack.

  THIRTY - FOUR

  Dougless had to get up very early to catch the train to London; then she took a long, expensive taxi ride to the airport. The sense of accomplishment that had sustained her since she’d left the sixteenth century was leaving her. All she felt now was very tired and very alone. She’d fallen in love with Nicholas twice. Every passing second seemed to bring memories back to her. She remembered when he’d been in the twentieth century and the wonder on his face as he’d touched a book of color photographs. She remembered the way he’d been fascinated with watching the taxi driver shift gears. And the Playboy magazine in the drawer at Arabella’s!

  When she went to the sixteenth century and he hadn’t remembered her and he’d even seemed to hate her, she’d thought he’d changed. But he hadn’t. He was still the man who put his family before himself, and when he began to include Dougless in his family, he had loved her as completely as he did them.

  When the boarding of the plane was called, Dougless waited until the last minute to get on. Maybe she shouldn’t leave England. If she remained in England, she would be closer to Nicholas. Maybe she should buy a house in Ashburton and visit his tomb every day. Maybe if she prayed enough, she would be returned to him, or him to her.

  She tried to control herself, but the tears started anyway. Nicholas was truly and completely gone from her. Never again would she see him, hear him, or touch him.

  Tears were blinding her so much that as she boarded, she walked into the man in front of her and her tote bag slid off her shoulder onto the lap of a first-class passenger.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said; then she looked into the blue eyes of a very handsome man. For a moment her heart pounded, but she made herself turn away. He wasn’t Nicholas; his eyes weren’t Nicholas’s eyes.

  She took her tote bag from the man while he stared up at her with interest. But Dougless wasn’t interested. The only man who interested her was sealed inside a marble tomb.

  She made her way back to her seat, shoved her tote bag under the seat in front of her, then looked out the window. As the plane began to taxi down the runway and she realized that she was leaving England, she began to cry in earnest. The man in the aisle seat beside her, an Englishman, buried his face deeper into his newspaper.

  Dougless tried to make her tears stop. She gave herself little pep talks about how much she’d been able to accomplish, and reminded herself that losing Nicholas was a small price to pay for all the good she’d done. But each thought made her cry harder.

  By the time the plane was aloft and the FASTEN SEAT BELT sign was off, she was crying so hard that she didn’t see what happened next to her. The man from first class, a champagne bottle and two glasses in his hand, asked the man next to Dougless to exchange seats.

  “Here,” he said.

  She could see through her tears a tall glass of champagne being held out to her.

  “Go on, take it. It’ll do you good.”

  “You’re an A-American,” she said through tears.

  “Yes. I’m from Colorado. And you?”

  “M-Maine.” She took the champagne, drank too fast, and choked. “I-I have cousins in Colorado.”

  “Oh? Where?”

  “Chandler.” Her tears weren’t flowing as fast.

  “Not the Taggerts?”

  She looked up at him. Black hair and blue eyes. Just like Nicholas. The tears sped up again. She nodded.

  “I used to go to Chandler with my father sometimes, and I met some of the Taggerts. I’m Reed Stanford, by the way.” He held out his hand to shake hers, but when she didn’t move, he picked up her hand off her lap and clasped it in his. “Nice to meet you.” He didn’t release her hand, but looked at it, saying nothing, until Dougless snatched her hand away.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Mr. . . . ?”

  “Stanford.”

  “Mr. Stanford,” she said, sniffing, “I don’t know what I did to give you the impression that I’m an easy pickup, but I can assure you that I’m not. I think you’d better take your champagne and return to your own seat.” She was trying to be regal, but her effort lost something, since her nose was red, her eyes swollen, and tears were running down her cheeks.

  He didn’t take the glass and he didn’t leave.

  He was beginning to make Dougless angry. Was he some pervert who liked crying fe
males? What in the world had happened in his childhood to cause him to be turned on by tears? “If you don’t leave, I’ll have to call the attendant.”

  He turned to look at her. “Please don’t,” he said, and there was something in his eyes that made Dougless halt as she reached for the call button. “You must believe me; I’ve never done anything like this in my life. I mean, I’ve never accosted a woman on a plane before. Or even in a bar, for that matter. It’s just that you remind me of someone.”

  Dougless wasn’t crying any longer because there was something eerily familiar in the way he moved his head. “Who?” she asked.

  He gave a little grin, and Dougless’s heart skipped a beat. Nicholas sometimes grinned like that. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s too far-fetched.”

  “Try me. I have a lot of imagination.”

  “All right,” he said. “You remind me of a lady in a portrait.”

  Dougless was listening now.

  “When I was a boy, about eleven, I think, my parents, my older brother, and I came to England for a year to live. My father had a job here. My mother used to drag my brother and me to antiques stores, and I’m afraid that I wasn’t very gracious about going. That is, until one Saturday afternoon when I saw the portrait.”

  Pausing, he refilled Dougless’s empty glass. “The portrait was a miniature oil, done sometime in the sixteenth century, and it was a picture of a lady.” He looked at her, and in spite of her swollen face, his eyes were almost caressing.

  “I wanted that portrait. I can’t explain it. It wasn’t that I just wanted it; I had to have it.” He smiled. “I’m afraid I wasn’t exactly sweet-tempered about voicing my wants. The portrait was quite expensive and my mother refused to listen to my demands, but I’ve never taken no for an answer. The next Saturday I took the tube, went back to the antique shop, and offered everything I had as a down payment on the portrait. I think it was about five pounds.”

  He smiled in memory. “Looking back on it, I think the old man who owned the shop thought I wanted to be a collector. But I didn’t want to collect; I just wanted that portrait.”