The Alchemist's Key

  ‘Wow,’ commented Wade as he moved to greet her, ‘you look amazing.’ As Hannah only smiled, a little awkward about his comment, Wade changed the subject. ‘You remember my friend, Hugh?’

  Hugh stood, unable to place her. If he had met such a beauty, surely he would recall. ‘Sorry, we met when?’

  ‘This is Hannah Martin, the Contessa’s assistant.’ Wade jogged his memory.

  ‘Oh, of course.’ Hugh could hardly believe the transformation. ‘I do apologise. You appear quite different out of business hours.’

  ‘I try,’ was Hannah’s droll reply.

  ‘Louisa you know.’ The two women smiled at each other sweetly, so Wade skipped quickly to his remaining guest. ‘And I’m sure you must have met Andrew.’

  ‘Yes.’ Hannah reached out and shook his hand. ‘How are you, Mr Jenkins?’

  ‘Very well, Miss Martin. And yourself?’

  ‘Stop, stop, stop!’ Wade objected. ‘This is my dinner party, therefore we dine by my rules.’

  ‘Ah, I don’t think you usually have rules for a dinner party, old boy,’ advised Hugh.

  ‘Then what do you call all that using the right fork rubbish?’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Hugh shrugged. ‘State your rules?’

  ‘There is only one,’ Wade informed them, ‘and that is, everyone must call each other by their first name.’

  ‘And if we don’t comply?’ Louisa toyed.

  ‘Then there’s the door,’ gestured Wade, just as playfully.

  This rule worked wonders; everyone relaxed rather quickly. Only the two women seemed to be avoiding each other, but even their animosity mellowed after a few drinks.

  As they finished the main course, Wade rose to make a toast. ‘To my new friends, and my old one.’ He acknowledged Hugh, who tipped his head in appreciation. ‘And to my new-found home and wealth. May we all profit greatly from the acquisition.’

  ‘Here, here.’ Everyone drank to that.

  ‘That means you, too,’ Wade commented to the butler and the maid, as they cleared the dishes onto a trolley.

  ‘Thank you, my Lord.’ Talbot glanced briefly at his son, who was deep in conversation with Lady Sinclair. ‘I am a content and happy man.’

  A second later, a dish shattered on the marble floor. Wade turned to discover that Talbot had dropped the object, but before he could inquire after the problem he spied it.

  Arthur McCloud was seated by the dining room doors leading into the Great Hall. One of the doors was opened just enough to allow a cat of his size to enter.

  ‘Andy …’ Wade looked at him. ‘You didn’t turn on my equipment, did you?’

  ‘Well, yes … you said to.’

  As Rosia spied the cat she screamed and fled through the doors at the opposite end of the room.

  ‘What is all the fuss about, Talbot?’ Wade queried, as the butler backed away in fear. ‘You told me that Arthur had only recently disappeared?’

  ‘I lied, my Lord. I didn’t want to alarm you.’

  ‘See.’ Andy stood up. ‘I told you I was telling the truth.’

  ‘So that’s Arthur, hey?’ Hugh rose also, still not convinced that the cat’s appearance gave the rest of their tale any credence.

  ‘It sure is.’ Louisa watched the feline’s movements from behind Hugh.

  Hannah didn’t know what to make of everybody’s reaction. The cat may have been large, but it was one of the cutest she’d ever seen.

  ‘Why, he’s lovely,’ Hannah commented, moving to comfort the animal in the wake of the maid’s hysterical reaction.

  ‘Hannah!’ Wade was not quick enough to stop her getting too near, and Arthur exited out the door.

  ‘It’s scared, poor thing.’ Hannah sped up a little to avoid Wade’s grasp, and slipped out the door after it.

  ‘Hannah, wait.’ Wade exited in her wake.

  ‘Quick …’ Andy advised the others to follow, and all three of them ran for the door.

  ‘No son, don’t,’ cried Talbot. ‘It’s not natural!’

  By the time the old butler hobbled to the doorway, there was no trace of the young folk. He called and called for them, but no response was forthcoming.

  The Great Hall was overflowing with people, dressed in the grand, evening attire of the mid-to late-seventeenth century.

  ‘Dear God,’ uttered Hugh, as he came to a stop behind Wade and Hannah, who were also staring in awe at the scene.

  ‘Is it a surprise party?’ Hannah queried, admiring all the beautiful gowns the ladies wore, and the music that filtered down from the orchestra on the floor above.

  ‘You could say that,’ Wade ventured, as Andy came forward to have a quiet whisper in his ear.

  ‘Perhaps we should back out of here, discreetly,’ Andy motioned to their attire, ‘before the women get arrested.’

  The strange thing was that the colourful characters around them acknowledged their party with smiles and nods, not seeming in any way curious or affected by their presence.

  ‘Nobody seems too bothered.’ Wade spied Arthur halfway up the staircase, and he took hold of Hannah’s hand to make after the cat.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, delighted and bemused all at once. Wade did not reply.

  Andy was quick to join the pursuit, and although the lad was admired by several ladies on his way up the staircase he managed not to be swayed from his course.

  ‘My Lady,’ Hugh held out his hand to Louisa, who placed her hand on top of his.

  ‘Charmed,’ she played along, as they followed the rest of the party up the stairs.

  Arthur entered Hugh’s drawing room, which was more sparsely occupied than the grand domed saloon, or the Great Hall. As Wade and Hannah kept pace with the animal, a small boy came charging out of the long gallery to collide with them.

  ‘Steady on there, mate,’ Wade made sure the lad was stable in the wake of the crash.

  ‘Let me go’ The boy tried to wriggle free of Wade’s grasp.

  ‘Ernest!’ An elderly man entered the drawing room in pursuit of the boy. ‘Hold him,’ he requested of Wade, and approached quickly to apprehend the cause of the dismay. ‘Thank you kindly.’ The old man took the five year old by the arm and headed back into the long gallery with the lad squirming in protest.

  ‘That’s not fair, Grandfather,’ said Ernest. ‘You said I could keep it.’

  ‘After I die, and not before,’ the old man clarified. ‘Now give me the dodecahedron,’ he ordered, disappearing around the corner with the child.

  ‘What is wrong?’ Hannah asked, seeing Wade’s perplexed expression.

  ‘Who was Ernest, again?’ he inquired of Andrew as he caught up with them.

  ‘The loon,’ Andrew replied, refreshing Wade’s memory.

  ‘Then his grandfather was John Ashby, the one who built the temple … and if he is still alive at this time, then …’ Wade nicked into the long gallery to peer down into the gardens through the closest window. ‘The temple is still here,’ he uttered, admiring the exquisite dwelling seen in his dream.

  ‘Unreal,’ Andrew mumbled, to second the Baron’s awe as he joined Wade at the window.

  ‘What temple?’ Hannah followed Wade and Andrew’s line of vision to spy the opulent dwelling that stood in the gazebo’s stead. ‘Oh … that temple.’

  Wade looked to the old man as he carted young Ernest into the tower. Arthur McCloud sat waiting by the tower door. ‘Finally, he’s taking us there.’ Wade grabbed Hannah’s hand and started off again.

  Hugh and Louisa, having just arrived on the scene, briefly gaped out the window at the magnificent temple before catching up with Wade and Hannah.

  ‘Wade, I notice a similarity between this temple and your gazebo.’ Hugh waved him back to the window to take a look, and although the delay frustrated Wade, he backed up to see for himself.

  His need to get moving blinded Wade for a moment, but then he saw the common feature to which Hugh referred. Out of the temple roof rose the same large metal
spike that currently extended from the roof of the gazebo.

  ‘That looks rather like an antenna of some description,’ observed Hugh.

  ‘You think he’s trying to pick up cable?’ Wade commented in jest, moving off after the cat that had by now wandered into the tower. ‘Come on, Andy,’ he called back to his young friend who was dragging the chain.

  Wade preceded Hugh, Hannah and Louisa down the stairs, to find the tower door, which granted access to the open walkway, was open. Arthur disappeared into the darkened shadows of the arched walkway outside as a hysterical woman, wailing like a banshee, ran into their midst.

  ‘Rosia?’ Wade grabbed hold of the maid.

  ‘My Lord?’ She gulped, looking back to the dining room where she’d just left him. The maid went into another brief screaming fit, before she finally fainted.

  ‘Damn it!’ Wade lowered her carefully to the ground, realizing that if Rosia was here, the temple was gone.

  ‘It’s vanished!’ Louisa confirmed his thought. ‘Only the gazebo remains.’

  ‘Speaking of missing —’ Hugh turned a few circles, then moved to peer back up the stairwell, ‘where is Andrew?’

  Andrew was distracted from his pursuit of the Baron by the silhouette of a man and woman who were occupying one of the moonlit, bay-window seats in the long gallery. For it looked as if the woman was being held there against her will. ‘Are you all right, my lady?’ he queried.

  ‘This one is no lady,’ the rather overweight, middle-aged man spat back in response. ‘You would do well to mind your own business, boy.’ With a hand clasped over the mouth of the whimpering girl, the gent was more than a little the worse for liquor.

  ‘I was addressing your lady friend,’ Andrew ventured, unaffected by the middle-aged drunkard’s threat.

  ‘Stay,’ the man ordered the maid, releasing her as he stood to confront Andrew. ‘This is no way to treat your host, lad. Someone should teach you some manners.’

  Andrew laughed at this, considering the fellow’s state. ‘Well, I have nothing planned, if you think you are up to it.’ Andrew coaxed him away from the distressed female, who was now openly sobbing.

  ‘Up to it, I am,’ the man vowed. He turned, enraged, and retrieved a sleek sword from its place of display on the wall.

  ‘Oops!’ Andrew jumped back to avoid the sharp tip of the extended blade as it sliced through the air only inches away from his gut.

  ‘Lost your sense of humour, son?’ The man took another swing at his defenseless opponent and fell short of his aim yet again.

  Andrew spotted a large silver tray on the coffee table and quickly retrieved it to use as a shield. He edged his way towards the matching sword still mounted on the wall, fending off his attacker’s blows as he went. But as Andrew reached for the weapon, the drunkard quickly deterred him with a slice to the forearm. ‘Shit!’ Andrew withdrew, searching the dim room for an alternative form of defence.

  ‘Would you like to apologize, before I run you through,’ the man offered, gloating over the fact that he’d drawn blood.

  At a loss for a witty retort, Andrew was startled by the sound of breaking china. His assailant dropped to the floor like a stone. The maiden stood over her unconscious Lord, obviously horrified by what she’d done.

  ‘He shall have my hide for this … that vase is worth more than I shall earn in my lifetime.’

  ‘He’ll have to find you first.’ Andrew tossed the tray aside and, gripping his wound with one hand, held out the other to the petrified young woman.

  Her first reaction was to take her saviour’s hand, but with a second thought she hesitated. ‘I thank you, Sir. But there is no point in risking yourself further. Lord Ashby shall only hunt me down.’

  ‘Not where I can take you,’ Andrew assured.

  She shook her head and was seated. ‘Make no mistake, he will find me, no matter where I go in the whole of the known world.’

  Andrew could understand her reserve and even though he was fairly sure he shouldn’t even be suggesting she accompany him, the young woman’s despair urged him on. ‘What is your name?’ He decided to try another tack.

  She drew deep a breath to contain her dismay. ‘Grace, my Lord.’

  ‘Do you have family in this house, Grace, or anyone the Baron might punish in your stead?’ When Grace shook her head, Andrew closed the distance between them a little. ‘Then consider this … if you are right, all you’re risking is the chance to have a bit of an adventure before the Baron turns his wrath upon you. And if I am right, which I am sure I am, you shall never have to give this aging bastard another thought.’

  Grace calmed to mull over his words. ‘Why would you help me? I am no one of any consequence.’

  ‘Nor am I,’ he replied. ‘I am a servant, just like you, only I am in the employ of a good and just man who would be outraged by your Lord’s treatment of you. He will guarantee your safety, Grace … trust me.’

  Again he held his hand out to her, and this time she dared to take it.

  ‘You’ll not regret this.’ He encouraged Grace to her feet, and quickly guided her into the tower.

  ‘Baron … Hugh? Louisa?’ Andrew called into the shadows that obscured the stone staircase leading to the outside walkway. ‘Arthur? Arthur McCloud.’

  At the sound of a cat’s meow, Andrew did an about-face. The large feline was pacing to and fro in the doorway that led to the library. Arthur appeared rather agitated, and Andrew wondered if it was because the cat had been forced to come back for him? Or perhaps the animal was protesting Grace’s presence?

  ‘Sorry, puss, I’ll try to keep up this time,’ Andrew commented, heading in the cat’s direction.

  ‘Are you conversing with a ghost?’ Grace wondered, seeing no-one in the doorway.

  ‘You don’t see the cat?’ he paused to inquire.

  ‘No, my Lord.’

  ‘Then I guess it is a ghost.’ Andrew resumed his pursuit, as Arthur was protesting loudly from the wooden ladder that granted access to the ground level of the room.

  The cat leapt from the mezzanine down onto one of the wooden desktops below. Andrew aided Grace down the ladder, when a loud, gruff voice commanded them to halt.

  The Baron had regained consciousness and was clinging to the wooden railing of the mezzanine for support as he hobbled after them. ‘Stop I say! After them!’ he ordered the guards who had pursued him into the library.

  ‘It’s no use,’ Grace insisted, as she watched the Baron’s guards making haste for the ladder.

  ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’ Andrew urged her out through the library doors.

  Arthur led them through the glasshouse towards the double French doors into the marble dining room.

  Andrew could hear the sound of the guards running along the sandstone path of the aviary, as he and Grace entered the dining room and bolted the doors behind them.

  ‘That won’t hold them long,’ Grace announced in a panic. ‘Give up. I shall only bring you grief.’

  ‘There you are.’

  The pair turned, their hearts pounding in their chests, to find Wade, Hugh and the girls.

  ‘Thank God.’ Andrew gave a great sigh of relief.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Wade referred to the bloody wound on Andrew’s right arm. ‘And who is this?’ The Baron noted the young woman’s old-fashioned dress, and shook his head.

  ‘This is Grace. Grace, this is Baron Ashby.’

  ‘Charmed …’ Wade tried not to appear too rude as he dragged Andrew aside for a quiet word. ‘You brought a maid from the seventeenth century back here with you! Are you nuts?’

  ‘Please don’t be mad, my Lord.’ Grace came to Andrew’s defence. ‘It was all my fault.’

  ‘It’s not your fault that old bastard was accosting you,’ Andrew insisted.

  Louisa and Hannah appeared moved by his words.

  ‘Andrew! You saved her from molestation?’ Louisa sighed. ‘How gallant.’

  Grace, in her fluster, was i
gnoring everyone but Wade. ‘Please, my Lord, just give me to my Lord’s guards and I shall take full responsibility.’ She looked back to the doors, expecting the guards to come crashing through them at any moment.

  ‘Grace.’ Andrew gripped both her hands to try and calm her. ‘You are safe now.’ He led her back to the double French doors and opened them wide. ‘See, they’re gone, and they won’t be back.’

  Almost too afraid to look, Grace slowly ventured into the aviary to find it devoid of human occupants. ‘But how is that possible? They were right behind us.’

  ‘Andy.’ Wade motioned him back into the dining room. ‘I think you’d best ask your lady friend to sit down. This could take some explaining.’

  Although Grace plummeted into a state of shock and disbelief when informed of her leap into the future, the claim was not that hard to prove. And the relief that Andrew had made good on his promise to hide her far outweighed Grace’s fear of the unknown. For she was assured by all present that, to the best of their knowledge, her tormentor, Frances, Baron Ashby the Second, could not follow her into the twentieth century.

  Wade advised Grace that she was welcome to enter his employ until they decided if they should, or indeed could, return her to her true place in history. What the Baron thought interesting was that this young woman had frequented the house during the brief fifty-year period of the Temple’s existence. The maid could well turn out to be more informative than Ashby’s entire library when it came to what the sixth Baron, John Ashby, really got up to inside the phantom dwelling. Wade suggested that Andrew show Grace to one of the spare rooms in the servant’s quarters. They could discuss the perplexing details of this evening’s events in the morning.

  ‘I think you’ll really like it here.’ Andrew made casual conversation as he bundled clean blankets and linen into Grace’s waiting arms. ‘You’ll certainly get paid, and treated, a whole lot better.’

  ‘It is all so overwhelming, Sir,’ she stammered, as she eyed over all the fine bedding. ‘I do not know what to say.’

  ‘My name is Andrew,’ he insisted politely.