Moonlight Wishes In Time (9 page)

“I have no idea, dear
. We so rarely have these ‘family’ meetings and almost never at this hour.” Mrs. Sinclair turned a pointed look toward the Ormolu clock on the mantle.

William ignored her look and leaned against the mantle
, regarding the women of his family. Fully aware he was making matters worse by prevaricating, he was uncertain as to how to proceed.

“Well, William?” his mother prompted
. “What is it? I admit to being quite intrigued, although somewhat concerned about the frown upon your brow. Somehow, I feel that you cannot have felicitous news to impart.”

William made a conscious effort to smooth his brow
.

“I apologize for intruding upon you both so early this morning
. If I felt the matter could wait, I would certainly have allowed you to take breakfast before approaching you, but as it is, I think I need your immediate assistance.”

“Whatever is wrong, William
? The matter sounds urgent.” Sylvie straightened and leaned forward, her mother’s blue eyes mirrored on her own face.

William regarded the two women on the settee, so alike in appearance and temperament
. Intelligent and gracious with impeccable manners, as befitted their station and training. His sister possessed a natural kindness, which his mother shared—albeit with somewhat more reserve.

He drew in a deep breath, depending on their graciousness.

“Last night, I stepped outside and took a short stroll in the garden.”

“To which I expressed my displeasure
,” Mrs. Sinclair murmured.

“Yes, I am afraid I needed some air, Mother
. The dinner parties can be so…stifling at times.”

“The caged bird sings,” she responded with a sardonic half
-smile.

“Go on, William,” Sylvie urged
. “You went outside…” she prompted.

“I found myself wishing on the moon
…” He paused and raised a hand to his mouth to cough slightly, wishing he had left that detail out as his mother’s eyebrows quirked once again and her smile widened.

“Ah, the moon
,” Mrs. Sinclair interjected in a faintly acerbic manner.

“William
! How sweet!” Sylvie chuckled.

“Yes, well, that is beside the point,” he added hastily
. “As I was saying, I was in the garden for only a few moments. When I turned to return to the house, I stumbled over something—a fairly large something.” A vision of pink fluff brought an involuntary twitch to his lips.

“Well, what was it, Will?” Sylvie prompted.

“A woman.” A gasp and a rustle of silk wrappers warned him to hurry through his explanation before the expected barrage of questions came his way. He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace, avoiding their eyes for the moment. “I am not yet sure how she came to be there, but she had fainted. I picked her up and brought her into the kitchen, where Mrs. White saw to her until I was able to return after the dinner party to see if she would require a doctor.”

“William!” his mother predictably remonstrated
. “This is most irregular. You should have sent for a doctor at once.”

William paused and faced his mother
.

“I doubt you would say that had you been in my situation, Mother
. You see, she was in her…em…well, she was in her sleeping garments.”

“Out on the lawn
? Our lawn? Surely you jest, William,” Mrs. Sinclair said incredulously.

“Who is she
? Did you send for the physician? What happened?” Sylvie perched on the edge of the settee, her eyes sparkling.

“I do not know who she is,” William replied with a shake of his head
. “She did not appear to need a physician, as she appears to be quite well.” He resumed his pacing to give himself time to parry his mother’s inevitable questions.

“Appears?” his mother said sharply
. “William! Is she still in the house?”

He paused and nodded
.

“Yes, she is—”

“But, Will, who is she?” Sylvie interrupted with wide eyes. “Does she not have a home of her own? How could she wander about in her sleeping garments in someone’s garden? Is she a guest of one of the servants?”

William shook his head and held up a hand
.

“Be patient, Sylvie, and I will finish the story
.”

His sister sealed her lips and waited
. His mother’s mouth was closed as well, but her lips seemed to be pressed together as if to bite her tongue—for the moment. He knew the look well.

“You will believe me to be crazy or you will believe her to be crazy, so I will just say this as best I might
. She is clearly not from England and states she is from America. She is not staying with anyone and has no idea how she came to be in the garden except that”—he hesitated, dreading his next words—“she also wished on the moon at the same time…from her own home in America.” He looked away from his audience’s confused expressions. “We believe some phenomenon has occurred, that in fact, she may very well have”—another cough behind his hand to clear his throat, which threatened to seize—“traveled through time.”

Instead of the expected onslaught of questions, his words were received with acute silence
. He had halted his pacing and turned to face his mother and sister, whose expressions could be called comical if he were in such a fanciful mood. Even his elegant, usually unflappable mother had allowed her jaw to slacken as she stared at him. Sylvie matched her expression.

He took a deep breath and exhaled deeply as he dropped into the blue chair near the settee
. What was the worst that could occur? They would laugh at him? Scream?

Surprisingly, it was Sylvie who first broke the silence with a whisper.

“Is that possible?” she whispered as she leaned forward.

William, grateful for such a muted response, shrugged.

“I do not know, but I have no other explanation for her presence. When you meet her, you will know that she is…not one of us.” He pressed his lips together. He could have phrased that in a better manner. “That is to say, she seems…different.”

“Where is she, Will?” Sylvie scooted to the edge of the settee once again
. “I am anxious to meet her.” 

“She is
down the hall in the green bedchamber, Sylvie,” said William, his eyes on his mother, whose cheeks were unusually red. “I shall introduce you in good time.”

“You put a stranger on the same floor as your sister
? Was that wise, William?” William was not surprised to see his mother stiffen.

“I had no other suitable room for her, Mother
. I did not want to pique the servants’ curiosity by putting her in their quarters. Mrs. White is the only one who knows she is here. She seems harmless, albeit as confused as I about her current circumstances.” He gave a slight shake of his head.

Mrs. Sinclair rose swiftly
.

“Is she awake
? We shall dress and go to meet her at once.”

William jumped up
.

“Well, you see, that is part of the problem
. She does not have any clothing with her except what she would normally wear to…bed.”

His mother turned a narrowed eye on him
. “Ah, yes, so you said. Sylvie, run back to your room and put on a morning frock. I will dress as well. Return in twenty minutes, and we shall go to meet our ‘guest.’ Since she will not yet be dressed, perhaps it would be better, William, if we visited her alone.”

“No, Mother, that will not do
. I intend to be present when you meet her. She is frightened enough and is depending on me.”

He was aware that Sylvie jumped up and watched the battle of wills between them with rounded eyes
.

“As you wish,” his mother murmured with a slight inclination of her head
.

William held the door open for Sylvie, who dashed across the hall with unbridled excitement
. He checked his watch and returned to his own room, there to pace while he waited for his mother and sister to finish dressing. He studied the closed door of the green room as he passed, wishing he could pop in and reassure Miss Crockwell, who undoubtedly thought she had been abandoned by now, but he thought it best to keep his mother and sister from the knowledge that he had already seen her in her undressed state that morning, let alone slept in her room.

He heard the creak of a door opening in the hallway and poked his head out
. Sylvie, now dressed in a light blue silk day dress and busily trying to pin her unruly golden curls atop her head, dropped the effort and beckoned to him.

“Will!” she whispered as he approached
. “This is so exciting. How lucky you are to have such an adventure.”

William grinned and shook his head
. He took his sister by the shoulders and turned her around to pull the drawstrings of her dress tight in the back and tie them, a task he had performed more than once during their youth.

“I am not certain that is the case, my dear
. Mother seems less…enthusiastic than you, I am afraid.”

“Thank you, Will
. I know I look a fright, but I did not wish to wait for the maid to help me dress,” Sylvie murmured as she took his hand. “Come, Mother must be dressed by now.” Sylvie dragged him across the hall and tapped on their mother’s door.

Upon the sound of Mrs. Sinclair’s voice, Sylvie opened the door and stepped in
. Their mother, lovely and elegant in a cream-colored frock, sat on a stool at her dressing table and adjusted a few curls as they peeped out from her frothy lace cap.

“Thank you, Mary
. That will do,” Mrs. Sinclair said to the older, gray-haired woman who gathered up her mistress’s discarded nightclothes.

“Yes, mum
.” Mary, a plump, motherly woman, dipped a quick curtsey and worked her way out of the room with a swipe at an imaginary dust speck here and there, and a beaming smile for her mistress’s two children.

“Good day, Master William, Miss Sylvie
.”

William gave the long-time family retainer who had once held the duty as nanny the same familiar grin he reserved for
Mrs. White and Mrs. Bailey.

“Good morning, Mary
. I hope you are well?”

“That I am, Master William
. Thank you for asking.”

“Oh, Mary,” Mrs. Sinclair called out.

Mary turned. “Yes, mum?”

“Please bring tea to t
he green bedchamber. For four.”

“Certainly, mum
.” Too well trained to ask, Mary bobbed another short curtsey and slipped out through the door with only a quick glance in William’s direction to betray her curiosity at the unusual activities of the morning.

Mrs. Sinclair rose and turned, one graceful eyebrow lifting as she surveyed her children
.

“Sylvie
! Did you attempt to dress yourself this morning? It certainly seems that way.”

Sylvie, unabashed, appeared as if she would hop from foot to foot in anticipatory excitement if she could.

“Yes, Mother, I did. I did not wish to waste time on my toilette as I am anxious to meet our new guest.” She flashed William an impish smile, and he responded with a grateful curve of his lips at her use of the word “guest
.
”

“Our guest,” Mrs. Sinclair murmured dryly
. “Of course. Shall we?”

William opened the door and allowed his sister and mother to precede him
. They moved down the hallway and came to stand in front of the door leading to the green bedchamber.

“I think I shall just step in and prepare her for your arrival
.” Again, he blithely ignored their startled looks as he tapped on the door and slipped into the room.

Miss Crockwell jumped up from the sofa and turned to stare at him with wide eyes
. He could not help but notice the sleek shine of her russet hair as a streak of sunlight from the open window danced across it.

“Forgive me for not waiting to enter,” he said as he executed a small bow
. “I thought you might simply remain silent on the chance that someone other than myself might be knocking on the door. My mother and sister are waiting to meet you. The situation is most irregular in that you are not dressed to receive anyone, and yet we need their assistance to find clothing for you.”

“What did you tell them?” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the door as if some terrible beast lay in waiting outside
. 

William shrugged
.

“The truth,” he said simply
. “As you and I understand it.”

She swung a wide-eyed gaze toward him
.

“Really
? How did they take it?”

William’s lips twitched
.

“My sister, an adventurous spirit, is most anxious to meet you
. My mother is as well, though I am afraid she is somewhat skeptical.”