"Wait, Nicholas, you didn't explain why you were shopping?" I was reminded of the cloth bag Nicholas had brought back with him from town, as I stepped over it to resume my spot on the sofa.
Nicholas and I had decided to visit Mr. Valentine the next day, Nicholas already having been into town and back again twice that day, and me still battling a headache.
There was really no rush, and we were both enjoying each other's company, chatting about things other than Constable Doyle or Thomas Clay.
We had just finished dinner, and as I settled into the sofa cushions, dragging a soft blanket over my legs, I was finally starting to really relax.
"Oh, yes," he replied, from the kitchen. "After I left the police station, I went and had a little chat with the local gossips about our mystery man, as you suggested." He came back into the living room, holding onto two wine glasses. "I had to pretend to have a reason to be in there, of course, so I purchased a few items."
"Well, that makes more sense now," I said, as he placed the glasses on the coffee table, then sat down beside me. "So, what did they say?"
"No one remembers seeing a thin, grey-haired, old man with a walking stick wandering around town."
"Which means he's an out-of-towner," I replied.
Nicholas shrugged, not convinced. "Either that, or my father has been extremely good at sneaking around without being noticed all these years."
"No, not with Constable Doyle around. He wouldn't take that risk." Nicholas sighed, and I sensed the return of the topic was making him feel agitated once again. "Hey, how about we go back to not talking about it," I suggested, wrapping my fingers around his arm and squeezing gently in support.
He nodded, giving me a grateful smile. "I bought you something," he said, reaching down and grabbing the cloth bag from the floor.
"You did?" I watched with interest as he rummaged around the small bag, finally pulling out a palm-sized rectangular block wrapped in paper.
"It's not much." He handed it to me, and I caught the faint scent of lavender. The scent brought back memories of my first night at the cottage, when I used lavender soap to wash myself.
"Soap?" I guessed, and he nodded.
"I told you it wasn't much, but I thought you would appreciate a fresh bar to wash yourself with, instead of one that I had been using and dropped on the floor several times."
That made me giggle. "Thank you, Nicholas, that was thoughtful of you," I said, bringing the soap to my nose and inhaling the pleasant scent. "However, do I get hot water in my bath this time?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow, only half joking.
He stared at me blankly. "Goodness, Matilda, hot water? That's a lot of work for a five minute wash."
"You're telling me you have cold water in your bath every night?"
"Why, of course. Either that, or I go for a dip in the river."
I shivered at the thought. At least Mrs. McCulloch boiled a pot of water for us at the Valentine house. I admit, I didn't have a bath every night while I was there, but at least I had a hot bowl of water to wash myself with.
"Oh, Nicholas, you're missing out on so much. There's nothing better than having a long soak in a hot tub with bubbles or salts. So relaxing. But I do realise it's harder in these times to have that, without the convenience of plumbing and a hot water system."
"So you're saying you are able to have hot baths every night in your time?"
"Yes. Showers, too. You simply turn on a tap and voilà! Hot water."
His eyes widened at the thought. "Wow."
"I can't wait until the plumbing and hot water system is installed in the cottage," I said, not even thinking about what I was saying. "Oh my god, Nicholas, I just realised something."
"What?" he asked, reaching for his wine glass.
"There's something else I haven't told you yet."
He chuckled after taking a sip of his wine. "Ah, Matilda, to be honest, I think I've heard enough for one day. You have certainly overwhelmed me with your stories from the future."
"Trust me, you'll want to hear this. This is actually happy news."
"All right, then," he said, slowly, still a little wary of what I had to say. He took another sip, almost as though to prepare himself.
"I bought Clay's Cottage." His eyebrows lifted. "In my time, it's officially mine." I couldn't help but smile, proud of my purchase. Proud I was able to save it.
"Matilda, I- I don't know what to say. That's wonderful! But I'm curious, though, of why?"
"Well, why not? It was up for sale, and a little rundown. It would have most likely been demolished. I couldn't let that happen."
"Thank you, Matilda. You are an extraordinary woman." He squeezed my hand, grinning at me, and I was so glad I could give him news that made him happy.
"Besides, I have become attached to this little place. And it's my connection to you."
"No, Matilda, you can't hold on to me forever. When you go back, you must move on. Find love, have children, create a family of your own in your cottage. It will get very lonely out here on your own. Trust me, I would know."
I scoffed. "Now you're just sounding like my mother."
"Please, don't end up a sad and lonely recluse like me. Forget the past and focus on your future."
"For now, I just want to live in the present, and the present is with you," I said. It was my turn to grab for my glass, and when I did, I was reminded of something I saw on that first visit to the cottage.
A lone, dusty wine glass was sitting on the coffee table, giving the impression that Nicholas had just upped and left. Or rather, something had happened to him that he was unable to return.
I shivered at the thought, plucked the glass off the table and wiggled closer beside Nicholas, feeling the comfort of his warm body beside me.
"Are you cold, darling? You shivered."
"A little, yes."
Using his free hand, he pulled the blanket up over both our legs, then wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close.
I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, savouring the peaceful moment before our time together could once more be disrupted by one Constable Doyle. Not only that, I knew it wouldn't be long before I had to face another painful trip through that painting.
I hadn't made it known, but what Nicholas had said about moving on upset me. I didn't want to move on from him, and I had no interest in finding someone else. Even though we had only known each other for a couple of months, we had a connection, and our friendship had turned into stronger feelings for each other. Fate had brought us together for a reason, so how would it be fair that we're once again separated?
"Matilda?" I heard Nicholas say, almost a whisper in my left ear. I turned my head to look at him. "Careful you don't fall asleep. You'll drop your wine glass."
"Oh," I said, bringing the glass to my lips and taking a sip. I had almost forgotten I was holding onto it, but I didn't feel like I could go to sleep just yet.
"If you're tired..."
"No-no, not tired. Just deep in thought, that's all."
"Anything you want to talk about?"
I shook my head. "Just thinking about tomorrow," I lied. "I hope Constable Doyle doesn't see me when we go through town on our way to the Valentine house."
"No, Doyle should be on his way to Hobart Town by now. That's why I asked for Dudley Clarke. Whether we were going to the Valentines' or not, I wanted to get him out of our hair for a few days."
"Clever thinking," I said.
"Dudley might not even come," he added. "Which might be a good thing, now that I think of it. I refuse to answer any more of Doyle's questions without a solicitor, so if he has to spend an extra few days or weeks finding me one, then that's more time I get without him harassing me."
"What about Mr. Valentine? Does he know you helped me escape from the holding cell?"
"We haven't actually spoken about it, but I believe he has his suspicions. I didn't tell him the reason why he had to be my alibi that night, but he's a smart man. I'm sure he has put two and two together by now. But don't worry, he would never tell anyone. But still, maybe stay out of sight tomorrow. We don't want Robbie or Isabella seeing you. One glare from Doyle and Isabella would panic and spill the beans for sure."
"As much as I would love to talk to Isabella and Robbie again, you're probably right. The less people who know, the safer you are."
"And the safer you are, my love," he said, clinking our wine glasses together.
As I took another sip of my wine, I couldn't help but feel like a criminal running from the law. I suppose, technically I was. I had committed the crime of theft, and also escaped from police custody.
Apart from Nicholas, I had no future here. I would be running from the law for the rest of my life, and so would he. We wouldn't be able to live freely, and we would always be looking over our shoulders. And what if we wanted children? Would we have to hide their existence?
That is not a life I would want, and I certainly would not expect Nicholas to have a life like that, either. He deserved better.
I suppose he was right about going back to my own time and moving on. Perhaps I could try... one day.
I had no idea how long I was here for, but for now, we were together, and that was all that mattered.