Nicholas and I had set off after breakfast to the Valentine house. We had agreed I would stay hidden; hiding at his feet in the buggy, covered in blankets as we made our way through town, and he had found an old cloak in the chest which he insisted I wear at all times. I was once again dressed in his mother's burgundy dress, instantly transformed back into a 19th century woman.
I was concerned about Constable Doyle appearing out of nowhere, something he seemed to do on a regular basis. But Nicholas assured me he would be halfway to Hobart by now, and I tried my hardest to relax.
We were well over halfway when Nicholas wrapped his left arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. I instinctively snuggled into him; not as comfortable as being on the sofa back at the cottage, though. Especially with pins and needles in my bottom from sitting on a hard, wooden seat, and the sun beating down on us, turning my face as red as a tomato.
But I ignored those things, closing my eyes, savouring the moment before moments like these would be plucked away from us forever.
"Matilda?" Nicholas asked, and my eyes popped open.
"Hmm?" I responded, not moving from my cozy spot.
"How did you explain your disappearance when you went back? I mean, you were gone two whole months."
I pulled away slightly, just enough so I could see his face.
"Oh. Well, actually, I didn't have to."
He glanced down at me and one eyebrow lifted. "You didn't have to? You mean to tell me no one noticed you missing after all that time?"
"No, I mean, I didn't have to explain because I wasn't actually missing for two months." Both eyebrows lifted then, and it was quite comical to watch. "When I went back to my time, I ended up exactly where I was before I ended up here. No time had passed. Same place, date, time, everything. Does that make sense?"
"I think so?"
"I didn't realise that at the time, though. It was all very confusing to start with. I even started to believe the two months we spent together wasn't real, that it was all just a dream."
"What convinced you that it wasn't all just a dream?"
"Your poem. Your poem made you real again. I could have ended up going through life not knowing the truth. Thank you."
He chuckled, softly. "I had no idea that poem was going to make such an impact. I had no idea if it would even reach you. I'm glad I wrote it, then."
"It brought me back to you, Nicholas."
He smiled and bent down to kiss me softly on the lips. "Like I've told you before, as much as I love you being here, I'm still not convinced it was a good idea, Matilda. It's far too dangerous for you here."
"You were worth the risk."
He smiled at me once again and squeezed me tighter. "It's hard to be mad at you when you say things like that."
I smiled back at him, then resumed my position of my head on his shoulder, staring out into the familiar countryside before us. I recognised the landscape and knew we were getting close to the Valentine house.
"So how are you going to approach the topic with Mr. Valentine?"
I felt the shrug of his shoulders. "What do you mean? I'll just ask him."
I twisted my head to look up at him once more. "So you're telling me that you're going to walk up to Mr. Valentine and say, Hey, so did you have anything to do with my father faking his death?"
"Well, not in those exact words. But Mr. Valentine and I have known each other for a long time. If there's something we want to say to each other, we'll just say it."
"Yeah, but Nicholas, we're talking about faking someone's death here. Your father's death. If he really did have something to do with it, he's not going to just come out and tell you. Especially seeing as he's kept it to himself for fifteen years."
"Yes, you're probably right. He kept it to himself to keep my father safe. He'll want to continue doing that by not telling me the truth now. Either way, he'll deny having anything to do with it. Besides, this is all speculation, anyway." He sighed. "Remind me again why we're dong this?"
"Because curiosity got the better of me and I thought travelling back 150 years in time to tell you something I had no proof of was a good idea?"
He chuckled. "Not exactly what I was referring to."
"Oh. You mean, why are we going to Mr. Valentine's?" I asked, and he nodded in response. "Because we have no other leads. Hey, we've got to start somewhere. Whether we get an answer from Mr. Valentine or not, at least we can say we tried."
I felt his body tense, and I gazed out in front of us. Another horse and buggy was heading towards us, and I promptly lifted the hood of my cloak over my head.
Nicholas removed his arm from around me to take ahold of the reins with both hands.
"Don't let him see your face," he whispered, and I leant forward, reaching down to the blankets at our feet, pretending to search for something. If it wasn't for the noise of the horse and buggy approaching, I was certain I'd be able to hear the pounding of my heart against my chest. "Good morning, sir," I heard Nicholas shout to the passerby.
"Mornin'," a male voice replied back.
I sighed with relief when the horse and buggy passed us, the man not interested in stopping for chitchat. I resumed my upright position, but kept my hood on for the moment.
"Don't turn around," Nicholas warned me.
"Do you know him?" I asked.
Nicholas nodded. "I'm not sure what his name is, but I've seen him around town. I've also seen him hang around with Doyle."
"Oh, no. Do you think he saw me?"
"No, no, I don't think so. You were quick to get that hood on. But if he knows me at all, he'll know it's out of the ordinary for me to have women in my buggy."
"Good to know," I mumbled, hiding a smile.
His eyes flicked over to me and then back to the road, and I noticed he was hiding a smile, too. "I hope he doesn't put two and two together."
"Do you think he'll tell Doyle he saw you with a woman? I mean, I could be anybody."
"He most likely will. I'm sure he'd do anything to stay on Doyle's good side. But don't worry, I'll simply tell Doyle you were Isabella. I was taking her to town and back. He can't prove it wasn't really her."
"We are so lucky we're not in my time right now. Security cameras, mobile phone tracking, bank account tracing... Lots of ways to catch criminals in the 21st century."
He glanced over at me blankly. "I'm not even going to try to understand any of what you just said." I laughed. "It's a lot different in your time, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes. Much, much different." I gasped when I saw the Valentine house in view. "I never thought I'd see that beautiful house again."
There it stood; the two-storey sandstone building with a dark grey roof, standing before panoramic views of the countryside.
When we reached the top of the driveway, Nicholas brought Ace to a halt.
"I'll take you halfway to the house, but I'm afraid you'll have to get out of the buggy there. I'm sorry, but if Robbie comes out..."
"I know, it's fine. We don't want him to see me. I'll just hover in the garden around the side of the house. The family rarely went there, only me and the children did."
"I'll try not to be long, I promise."
"Take as long as you need to get the answers we're looking for. I'll find a nice shady spot to sit while I wait."
He hesitated, then nodded. "All right. As long as that shady spot is well-hidden."
"Of course. Don't worry," I replied.
He flicked the reins and Ace pulled us down the driveway, Nicholas stopping him once again when we made it to the halfway mark.
Without hesitation, he leant over and kissed me firmly on the forehead, rubbing my cheek with his thumb before pulling away. "I'll see you soon, Matilda."
I nodded and gave him a reassuring smile before hopping down off the buggy. He watched as I moved off the dirt driveway, stepping through grass and weeds, making my way towards the side of the house.
* * *
As Nicholas pulled Ace to a stop outside the front of the Valentine house, sure enough, Robbie exited the barn to greet him.
"Mr. Clay! I wasn't expecting to see you today!"
"Uh, no. Some unexpected business came up," Nicholas replied, as he stepped down from the buggy. "Is Mr. Valentine home? I need to speak with him privately."
"Yes, he's inside. How long will you be staying? Shall I take Ace into the stables?" Robbie asked, rubbing Ace's nose.
"No, just find him some shade. I am hoping this matter won't take too long at all."
Robbie nodded and Nicholas made his way to the front door of the house, knocking firmly on the timber.
It wasn't long before Mrs. McCulloch was swinging the door open, mouth widening into a grin when she saw who the visitor was.
"Oh, Mr. Clay! Mr. Valentine never mentioned you were visiting today. I haven't prepared any tea or biscuits!"
"Mr. Valentine didn't know I was coming. And don't trouble yourself with the tea or biscuits, Mrs. McCulloch. I shouldn't be staying too long. There's just something I have to ask him. Is he about?"
"Why, of course. He's just in the sitting room. Come in, come in," she said, stepping aside for Nicholas to enter. After closing the front door, Mrs. McCulloch determinedly made her way through the foyer, passing Nicholas, and entered the sitting room. "Mr. Clay is here to see you, sir."
"Mr. Clay is here? Quick, tea and biscuits, please, Mrs. McCulloch."
"Right away, sir."
Mrs. McCulloch fled out of the sitting room just as Nicholas poked his head in. "Sorry to surprise you with a visit today, Henry,"Nicholas apologised, stepping inside the room.
Mr. Valentine placed his newspaper onto the table, then removed his glasses, adding them to the pile.
"Nonsense. You're welcome any time, Nicholas. You know that. So what brings you here this morning?"
"I need to ask you something."
"Of course. Sit down, sit down," Mr. Valentine said, gesturing towards the seat beside him. Nicholas sat, staring down at his hands in his lap for a moment, needing a second to think on how to approach the sensitive subject. Mr. Valentine must have noticed Nicholas' uncomfortableness, as he asked, "Is everything all right, Nicholas? Is this a... serious matter you wish to discuss with me?"
Nicholas looked up at Mr. Valentine, shaking his head.
"No, no, not serious." So much for Nicholas just asking him. Why was he at such a loss of words all of a sudden? Nicholas took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We've known each other for a long time, haven't we, Henry?"
Mr. Valentine chuckled at the question. "Since you were three years old, Nicholas."
"That's right. You're like a father to me."
"And you a son."
"And we've never kept secrets from each other, have we? We've always been honest with each other?"
"Why, yes. I believe so. Is there something you haven't told me? Is that what this is about? If there's something you wish to tell me, Nicholas, then just say it. I'm here for you no matter what."
"Well, actually, I think there is something you haven't told me."
Mr. Valentine was taken aback by that statement. "I'm sorry?"
Nicholas shifted in his seat, feeling uncomfortable about the whole conversation. "Let me start from the beginning. I saw a man standing at my parents' grave not too long ago. Now, I understand old family friends may want to visit from time to time, but there was something about this man that shocked me."
"Really? What was it that shocked you?" Mr. Valentine asked, leaning forward, intrigued by the story.
"The man looked just like my father." Mr. Valentine's eyes widened. "Not what he looked like before he died, but what he would look like fifteen years later... if he hadn't died."
Mr. Valentine chuckled nervously. "Oh, Nicholas. You must be mistaken. There's no way-"
"Not only that, I've been given information by someone that they have been unable to find a death record for him."
"Nicholas, what on earth are you suggesting? That your father didn't really die all those years ago?"
"Yes. That is exactly what I am suggesting."
"That's ludicrous, Nicholas. He is buried next to your mother. He has been for fifteen years."
"Are you sure about that, Henry?"
"Nicholas, what are you implying?"
"I think you know exactly what I'm implying. That my father didn't really die of scarlet fever fifteen years ago and you helped him fake his death."
Mr. Valentine gasped. "How dare you. I would never do such a thing."
"My father needed a way to escape Constable Doyle forever. Doyle told me that my father confessed to him on his death that he framed him for stealing the pocket watch. My father was the reason Doyle was sent to prison for fourteen years. But the problem was, scarlet fever didn't end up killing my father. He survived. And there was one furious police constable out there ready to kill him if the fever didn't. He had to die. It was the only way to escape Doyle. And with my mother's passing days before, he asked the next closest person to him in his life to help him disappear. You."
"This is outrageous!" Mr. Valentine flew out of his chair, pacing up and down the room, hands on his hips. "Have you completely lost your mind? Your father would be turning in his grave if he knew what you were accusing me of."
"He most likely would be if he was really dead."
"Get out. Get out of my house!" Mr. Valentine outstretched his arm, pointing towards the door.
Nicholas had never heard him so angry. Even when he had caught his daughter sneaking around with the stable boy. That was nothing compared to this. Nicholas stood and stepped towards Mr. Valentine.
"Henry, I'm sorry," Nicholas said calmly to the old man. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just want to know the truth. Please." He received no response from Mr. Valentine, who was staring at the floor. "I'm not angry at you. You did it to save my father's life. You were a good friend to do that for him." Still no response. "Please look at me. All right then, look me in the eye and tell me you had nothing to do with it. Tell me my father really died from scarlet fever, he is buried next to my mother, and I will forget this conversation ever happened. We will never speak of it again."
Mr. Valentine finally lifted his head and stared Nicholas straight into his eyes. His voice was shaky when he finally said, "You're father died from scarlet fever fifteen years ago. He is buried next to your mother. Now we will never speak of it again."
Nicholas nodded, and turned to leave the room. Just as he was about to step outside, Mrs. McCulloch stepped in, carrying a tray of biscuits and tea.
"Leaving so soon, Mr. Clay? I brought you tea and biscuits."
"Yes, I'm sorry you went to all that trouble, Mrs. McCulloch. But unfortunately I can not stay any longer."
"Oh," was all Mrs. McCulloch said, the look of disappointment on her face.
"But I will take some biscuits for the road, if that's all right?"
Her face lit up at the suggestion. "Why, of course! Let me wrap them up for you."
"No-no. I will eat them now," he said, as he grabbed some biscuits off the tray. "Thank you, and I'll see you again soon."
Nicholas hurried out of the room and through the foyer, bursting through the front door. The cool, fresh air was a nice change from the warm, stuffy air inside.
Needing a moment to compose himself before going to find Matilda, he leant against a verandah post and closed his eyes.
* * *
As I laid on the grass beside a thick hedge of rose bushes, waiting, I was thinking back to the annual charity ball that was held in this very garden a few months ago. My eyes were closed and I was humming the classical song that Nicholas and I danced to that night.
"Goodness, Matilda," the loud whisper of Nicholas' voice said behind the rose bushes, startling me. "Could you be any louder? You're supposed to be hiding."
"Geez, Nicholas. You scared me half to death. I thought someone found me." I sat upright, adjusting the cloak around my face.
"I'm surprised no one had found you sooner. Humming?"
"Sorry," I said, getting to my feet. "I was thinking of the charity ball."
A smile crept upon his face. "Our first dance."
"You recognised what I was humming?"
"Of course. You have a beautiful voice."
I couldn't help but smile at the compliment. No one had told me I had a beautiful voice before.
Our moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps growing closer. I ducked back down behind the roses, covering my face with my hood. Nicholas stepped away from me, trying to lead the person away from my hiding place.
"Nicholas, there you are," I heard Mr. Valentine say.
"Henry!" Nicholas replied, sounding surprised to see him there.
"I didn't want to leave things the way we left them back inside. I don't want things to be awkward between us."
"Me neither, Henry. Thank you for coming out here and clearing that up. I apologise again for any distress I caused you. It was wrong of me to accuse you of such things."
"It's all right, Nicholas. Let's just put it behind us now, shall we?"
"I would like that very much, sir. Thank you."
"I'll see you again soon. Good day." I heard the footsteps of Mr. Valentine starting to walk away, but then stop. "Oh, and Nicholas? I heard Launceston is lovely this time of year."
"I'm sorry, sir?"
"Launceston. There's some lovely cottages there for rent. Maybe you could take Miss Fletcher there for a few days."
And without another word, he was gone.