In this way, Eldridge and Elvie found a pleasant balance. Her presence helped keep him from the gloom of his past, and in the times when she worried, she’d often seek out Eldridge’s company. Occasionally, bleak thoughts entered her mind – she’d never be able to get back home, or she’d be stuck in the past forever and would never see her parents. When that happened, she needed to find companionship to help keep her grounded. Eldridge provided solace when she found him in his study reading, or admiring the large tree now growing centrally in his house.
‘Aren’t you going to get it removed?’
‘Why should I? Give it a few more weeks and you’ll have better mastery in Oak House. So much so, you could remove it yourself. Keep practising and we’ll get to it. Strangely enough, it isn’t doing any harm, and I find it kind of soothing.’ He laughed to himself.
Elvie changed the topic. ‘Eldridge, I’ve been meaning to ask you something…’ He nodded. ‘The language – what is it?’
‘It’s mostly a Welsh base.’
‘Why don’t you teach me Welsh then? Wouldn’t we be able to cast anything if we knew Welsh?’
‘When I say mostly Welsh, I mean each word is mostly Welsh – but different. Teaching it to you would only confuse you, and I believe they still don’t specifically teach languages on the Island. A few words are Afrikaans, some Dutch, a bit of Saxon and other tribal languages – a fair bit of Latin too. So teaching the language is something you do for yourself when you are no longer a student, if you so desire.’
That disappointed Elvie. She’d had a thought she would only need to find the Welsh words for ‘travel to the future’, or ‘travel back home’. Of course it had to be more complicated.
One morning, as they dined on a breakfast of toast, jam and fruit, Eldridge informed her a visitor was coming to his homestead.
‘He’s royalty, Elvie. His name is Sir Josiah Jennings, Duke of Cambridge. He outranks me significantly, so we’ll both need to be on our best behaviour.’
‘Both of us?’
He nodded. ‘Both of us. It’s not proper to think poorly of the nobility, but even amongst the noble class exceptions to the rule exist. Josiah Jennings is one of those exceptions.’
‘It will be nice to have visitor though.’
‘He’s not visiting – visitors are invited and mostly, you want them to stay.’ Eldridge brows crinkled as he frowned. ‘I’m not sure why he is here, actually. So I’d like you to stay out of sight. Can you do that for me?’ His blue eyes pierced her.
She nodded.
‘I’ve never met a royal magician before.’ Elvie changed the subject away from one which made him so intense.
‘You still won’t have. Heavens forbid, he isn’t a magician. He’s just a man – one born into privilege, not that I can hold that against him alone. It has gone to his head over time, and he’s well… let’s not worry too much about that for now. You keep out of sight, and keep an old man’s worries far away.’
From the moment Duke Jennings arrived, Elvie wholeheartedly agreed with Eldridge. Perched at a window on the second floor, it struck her how over the top his arrival was. A fanfare of black cars, all immaculately polished with shining white walls on the wheels, slowly wandered down the driveway. They were expensive cars too, she could tell with a glance. Her father had an interest in cars and always told her of his favourite, which she picked out immediately. A Rolls-Royce, the quintessential British car.
Once the procession of cars had circled the fountain, the final car, the longest and shiniest of them all, pulled up to the steps. A man in a black suit and top hat leapt out to open the door, standing upright to attention as he did. From the recesses of the car, a walking stick appeared, followed by a darkly clad man. As he stepped from the vehicle, he straightened his expensive tailored black suit, pushed his glasses back to the top of his nose, and raised his head to give the house a cursory scan.
Elvie disliked the expression on his face: a hint of a smile within which no warmth resided. The corner of one lip curled up to reveal the incisor.
‘Welcome Duke,’ Eldridge greeted Sir Jennings with a fixed smile on his face. He reached out to shake his hand.
The Duke ignored the offered hand, instead looking over the house. ‘Hasn’t changed much, has it? You’d think there would be some improvements, to move with the times and all. We live in an industrialised world now.’ He turned to look Eldridge over. ‘Cut away the old to bring in the new.’
Eldridge smiled good-naturedly, although, from her view above, his back stiffened at the insult to his home. ‘We do what we can, Lord Jennings.’
‘Well, take me inside. I’m not of a mind to look at it any longer – not that it will be much better on the inside, no doubt. Still, take me in and prepare tea and scones. The road is hard, you understand.’ He strode past Eldridge and into the house.
Elvie was offended on Eldridge’s behalf. Was that how being in the upper class worked? You could say and do whatever you wanted no matter the offence it caused.
For twenty heartbeats, she stared out the window disconsolately. She hated secrets with a passion, they itched at her as a curiosity she needed to scratch. If she moved closer, she might be able to overhear the conversation – that would put an end to the secret. She wouldn’t be breaching her word to Eldridge because nobody would see her, as he’d only said ‘stay out of sight’. If she kept quiet, she could sit in the library, which ran adjacent to the main sitting room – that would be where Eldridge had taken the Duke as it had a beautiful view over the back gardens.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Quietly, Elvie made her way across the top floor and down the stairway at the rear of the house. As servants and maids primarily used it to go unnoticed in their duties, nobody from the Duke’s entourage would have reason to be there. Nobody noticed Elvie as she made her stealthy journey down the hallway and into the library.
She slipped inside, past the giant interior tree and curled up in Eldridge’s old leather chair. Elvie smiled in delight. The door hung ajar, just a crack where it hadn’t latched properly, and voices flittered to her without any need to strain. A small part of her twinged in guilt, but another realised that she needed to know as much as she could about this world and its people if she ever hoped to make it home.
‘You could do so much with this place. The technology available to us now is wondrous! All this open space out there could form extra buildings to draw in more servants, or a grand hall for receiving guests. Why not model it on my own? Now that’d get your estate moving in the right direction.’
‘I’m fond of my gardens.’
‘Pfah! Sentimentality, it’s the curse of all those who’ll never rise to the top. What need have you for gardens, you can plant more once your estate is ready. Would you be in a position if His Majesty called upon you – after all, your family does form a branch of the nobility, even it is an obscure one. What would you do? Take him into this small room to stare at your gardens?’ Elvie could imagine his sneer again.
‘I’ve heard the Queen is fond of her gardens.’
‘Is she? The Queen is most fond of those who do right by her and the Empire. What with the Great War depleting us, now is a time to find strength and embrace the new age, not be stuck in the past! Rumblings come from Germany, not that they’ve ever stopped, and don’t get me started on Russia. Progress must be made, even if it has to be forced on the likes of you.’
Silence came with no reply. Did Eldridge sip his tea, as he waited for Sir Jennings to make his point?
Eventually, Sir Jennings continued: ‘I’ve come to tell you the Prince of York has need of you and wants you at court.’
‘Why would he want me and not members of the Parliament?’
‘Old fools of course, thinking they have a right to represent the people when they cannot see what is best for them. Who led the world to war? Not the King or Queen – why they would never have wanted to attack; almost all the royalty are related to each other! But I digress, the Prince wants to speak with you. I don’t know how he knows of you specifically, or why he wants you, but it is his request.’
‘A rather unusual reason for your visit, my Lord. A letter would have sufficed.’
A long silence ensued. Would anyone speak again or should she make her way back upstairs? Just as she was ready to move, the Duke mused in a quiet voice. ‘I’ve heard whispers and thought I’d see for myself. Rumours, you might say, but I suspect the truth lies within them… I’ve been told of a girl here. A stray one.’ Elvie’s ears started burning – they were talking about her!
‘You know my daughter is dead, Lord.’ Eldridge’s tone was stiff.
‘Not what I mean.’ The dismissal was instantaneous. ‘I’m talking about a girl, fifteen or so, possibly younger. Rumour has it you adopted the stray – but… she is wanted.’
The way he said the word wanted, caused a shiver to cascade into Elvie’s stomach and take root as a knot of worry. Would Eldridge give her away? Would he do as his Lord asked because of his loyalty to the King?
‘A girl is wan-ted?’ He used the same inflection but drew the words out.
The conversation resumed its silence. Elvie could picture two alpha lions, silently staring down the other, perhaps pacing around. They would be moments from violence – the true battle for supremacy. ‘Changes are afoot at court,’ Sir Jennings said after some time. ‘We have a desire for strength as we seek to return this land to the glory it deserves. A new dawn will come. You’d be wise to think over whether you’ll be caught in the dark, or part of the shining new light… So tell me plainly, are you keeping a girl here?’
Elvie held her breath in fear before the wave broke with Eldridge’s laughter. ‘You make it sound like I found a stray cat or someone who ventured back in time – that’d make my life a touch more interesting!’ His laughter continued.
‘You mock me?’ A deep cold settled into Lord Jennings’s voice.
‘I’d never do so, Milord. Just my odd sense of humour. Don’t they call me an eccentric these days – living on my country estate with no care for politics? Or broken from the war, I’ve also heard that story told several times, though usually when people think I’m beyond the range of hearing.’
Lord Jennings snarled. ‘I see your hospitality hasn’t changed. His Majesty will hear of your indecency, I tell you. And mark my words, if a young girl is found here…’ Elvie could imagine him smiling sickly. ‘Well, there would be talk of treason against the crown, wouldn’t there?’
‘I’m sure there would, Lord Jennings. I’m sure there would. Now would you like some tea, it has gone cold now, and my servants are never much good at getting it to me while it’s warm. The scones too, they’re from three days ago, but I’m sure they’re delicious. Why, I myself enjoy nothing more than a scone which has turned hard on the outside, and well – also the inside. The crunch is most pleasant, and there is a level of satisfaction that comes from managing to get it all the way to your stomach.’
Footsteps echoed through the halls, followed by barked commands as Sir Jennings walked out of the conversation. Minutes later, car engines turned over as the long procession of cars made their way from Eldridge’s estate to the tune of crunching gravel.
She turned in the chair and made to head back upstairs, but the door opened and Eldridge walked in. ‘Ah, there you are. Good. Save’s me the effort of chasing you upstairs.’
‘I’m sorry…’ Elvie started to stammer out.
‘Sorry? Hmmm… whatever for? I didn’t expect anything different, why, I expected you to come down and listen. Why do you think I latched the door so perfectly so that you could hear but not be seen?’ Elvie was taken aback, blinking at him with wide eyes. ‘Trust me when I say it is much better to have a young girl sitting in the other room and listening than it is falling through the door at the most inopportune time.’ He smiled fondly at the memory, but beneath the façade of his smile, Elvie sensed something amiss.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘It’s like dancing with a scorpion. Sometimes you have to, but all the while you have to keep your wits about you and watch for the sting. He’s a real scorpion, Sir Jennings is.’
Elvie took a breath. ‘And he knows about me?’
Eldridge’s eyes sharpened upon hers. ‘So it seems. Well, at least he knows something but clearly not enough to do anything about it or that would have been a different conversation. Tell me, Elvie, what did you do before you met me that day?’
‘Only the forest,’ she replied. ‘I never met another living soul.’
‘Truth?’ His eyes fixed on her own.
She held his gaze. ‘It is.’
He glanced away. ‘Strange times. But I’ll discover the truth – when I meet with the Prince I’ll look for answers. If politics is involved, then the only play to play is in the upper circles.’
‘What if they come and get me?’
He patted her on the shoulder reassuringly, but the slight shake remained in his hand. ‘I promise you I won’t let them, my dear. But the safest place for you will no doubt be on Winters Island – protected from the politics of this new world.’ He put on a brave face to hide his concern. Whatever worried him, he couldn’t shake it from his mind. ‘Come on now, I have two hot cups of teas and some lovely fresh scones to eat.’ He winked, and the world righted itself.