The Second Time Travel Megapack: 23 Modern and Classic Stories Read online

  Log Entry #16: Jake Lawson

  Shorter is furious. Pat has violated another one of his proscriptions, by going on a date with the local squire. He almost sent her back to the future today, for the third time. I think the only thing that prevented him was the undeniable personal connection that she has established here with several of the principals, a fact that seemed to infuriate him that much more.

  The result of this tirade was that I got named babysitter for my little “sister.” I’m to follow her around, making certain that she stays out of trouble, and that she maintains her contacts only on a professional level. Right! As if I’ve ever been able to control that woman. Next time I’ll make certain that I’m paired with a man.

  Letter #8: Jane Austen to Cecil Chamberlayne

  Paragon, Bath

  Friday 29 May 1801

  My dear Cecil,

  I was very happy to learn that you had postpon’d your schedul’d departure from Bath for several more weeks. My Sister has written to me to confirm her arrival here on Monday the 1st day of June next, & I write to you to inquire if all of the arrangements have been made for our propos’d soirée on Wednesday June the 3rd, & whether you would welcome my assistance & possibly that of my American freind, Miss Lawson, should she be willing. You are aware, I think, that Mr S. will be in attendance upon us all, & I remind you that Miss Lawson’s beau, Mr. Mancefield Esquire, should also be invited, for he seems very sweet on her.

  If you can send to me immediately, I will call on Miss Lawson on the morrow, & see what is what & who is who, & if she has any time to spare us from her many outings into the countryside. I did not know that there were so many sights of interest to be seen by the foreign traveler, outside of Bath itself, but she certainly seems to find our fields & forests & villages most amusing, particularly when in accompaniment with a certain young gentleman, with whom she has been observ’d jowl to jowl. It is entirely & completely delicious. I long to see you soon. I will see you soonest.

  Your dear Freind, J.A.

  Log Entry (Personal): Patricia Wardon

  I finally managed to give Jake the slip whilst he was attending to certain matters of personal hygiene, and headed out the back door at Green Park, right down the street in the opposite direction from where he would have expected me to go. He never did have very much imagination.

  Mr. Mancefield was waiting for me at our rendezvous point. I kissed him and apologized for being so late, explaining that my overprotective brother was becoming somewhat concerned about our advancing relationship. He took me in a carriage to his mansion, where we ate a light luncheon, and then spent the rest of the afternoon in a somewhat more pleasant dalliance.

  “Whatever am I to do?” he finally asked.

  “About what?” I said.

  He sat up and looked right into my eyes.

  “About us,” he said. “About this.” He let some strands of my hair slip through his hands, and then hung his head.

  “You need do nothing on my account,” I murmured.

  “I am promised,” he said, “to the daughter of the Earl of Langdale. She is pleasant enough, I suppose, and certainly well endowed financially, but she lacks your wit, your beauty, and your character. And these things, I find, are worth more to me now than the twenty thousand she might bring to our marriage bed.”

  “But will you feel the same way ten years from now?” I inquired.

  He looked at me oddly. “You are wholly unlike any woman I have ever met,” he said. “You seem to me so much more free, particularly when compared to plain little Lady Bénine.” He sighed.

  “But you will marry her anyway,” I said.

  “Do I have any choice?” he asked. “Until I inherit the family title, my resources are very limited. My father squandered his much lesser inheritance, and I have barely enough money left to maintain even a few servants here. It is a closely kept secret.”

  “And one that I shall never share,” I said.

  “But I am sorely tempted anyway,” he finally said. “Patricia, should I ask for your hand, would you consent to be my wife?”

  It was my turn to ponder the gulf that had suddenly opened up between us. I tossed my head, and then sank back into the pillow, overwhelmed by the prospect.

  “No,” I finally said, in a voice barely audible even to myself.

  “Why?” he wanted to know, clearly surprised that anyone would deign to turn him down.

  “We return to North America in less than a fortnight,” I said, “and my brother would never agree to a connection between our family and a scion of British nobility. We are republicans, through and through.”

  “Let me speak to him…” he begged.

  “No,” I said. “I know his mind very well, and he will not relent on this particular circumstance. We lost our father and uncle in the late war, and Jacob blames the British aristocracy for pursuing the conflict.”

  He tried to speak further, but I stopped him by pressing my finger to his lips.

  “Also,” I said, “if I married without my brother’s consent, he would cut me off without a penny. And I suspect that your uncle would do much the same.”

  He sighed. “Too true. I would still get the title, of course, and Sir Mordecai’s manor house, which is entailed in the direct male line, but his personal fortune can be distributed as he sees fit, and I would not be fit in his eyes under such circumstances.”

  “Then we should enjoy the moment while we can,” I said, “and not worry overmuch about the rest. And for my part, dearest, I have rested quite enough.”

  Then I made certain that he was both willing and able, and set about learning some additional useful techniques from my riding master.

  Letter #9: Cecil Chamberlayne to Jane Austen

  Bath

  Saturday, 30 May 1801

  My dear Miss Austen,

  I am pleased to inform you that I have now completed the necessaries for our party on June the 3rd, save for the decorations themselves, to which you & Miss Lawson are certainly welcome to contribute, should you find the time. The invitations have been dispatchd to all of those whom you mentiond, along with several others. We shall have a regular council of it. I look forward to seeing you here soon.

  C.C.

  Letter #10: Jane Austen to Cecil Chamberlayne

  No 1, Paragon, Bath

  Monday 1 June 1801

  My dear Cecil,

  Cassandra arriv’d this afternoon with my dear Father. She had plann’d to take Revd Debary’s coach from Kintbury, but Father was already travelling up from Godmersham yesterday, & so they went on together this morning. I am so happy to have the best of sisters & freinds here again that I just had to tell someone. Our family is come together once more. We shall call upon the Lawsons in the morning.

  Your ever devot’d Freind,

  J. Austen

  Log Entry #17: Jake Lawson

  We finally met Cassandra Austen today. She and her sister arrived at Green Park about an hour before noon, and both Pat and I were intensely interested in seeing what she was like. But once again, I found myself wondering, “Is this all there is?”

  She was cordial enough, I suppose, albeit a littler older and graver than her soon-to-be-famous sister, but there was not the spark of genius that I had expected to find. One of the problems, I’ve decided, is that the women of this period are intended to discourse in public only on matters relating to family, the weather, the neighbors, and such, and absolutely nothing else, since to do so would be to exceed the bounds of commonly accepted behavior. So we are left with just the pleasantries, and only very occasional flashes of what might be the real personality hiding underneath the mask.

  But the general fogginess of the atmosphere has left me groping for any anchors on which to hang my judgments of Cassandra’s character. She hides he
rself very well indeed; or, possibly, she may be as foolish a woman as her sister.

  Then why do I have the sense that she and Jane spent the entire morning exchanging cryptic comments about Pat and myself? It wasn’t so much what they said as the way in which they said it.

  For example, Cassandra Austen pointedly asked, just after Shorter had stepped outside the room: “Wherever did you find such interesting servants?”

  I mumbled something about the staff being long attached to the family, and Jane responded: “Truly? I had the sense that they were entirely new.”

  Are we being played with? Or was this just another seemingly innocent, offhanded remark? I honestly don’t know. Maybe Pat will have some additional insights.

  We did get an excellent series of videos of the entire session, so we’ve now met about 60% of our mission objectives. I think Shorter and Long were both very pleased. I certainly hope so.

  Log Entry #18: Patricia Wardon

  Shorter has asked me to record my impressions of this morning’s meeting with the Austen sisters, but I am less certain now whether my initial assessment of the situation was even close to being accurate. These ladies are extraordinarily subtle, I think, and possess more intelligence and discernment than we have given them credit for.

  I found Cassandra Elizabeth Austen both quick and observant, very much like Mrs. Chamberlayne in that regard. I tried to minimize my own participation in the early conversation, and watched C.E.A. quite closely. I think I caught her at least twice trying to do the same thing to me.

  I also noticed her exchanging at least one careful glance with Jane, who nodded slightly in response, and that alone has convinced me that we are completely out of our league here, and do not understand even one measure of what is actually occurring. I’m sure that Shorter will debunk me for an idiot for having changed my opinion once again, but I really do believe that women possess (in general) a keener sense of these things than do the male sex. The Austens are playing some kind of elaborate game, and I think we’re the damn fools, every blasted one of us, for not realizing it.

  They kept referring to Mrs. Chamberlayne’s party tomorrow evening, as if that would somehow resolve everything, but what is it precisely that needs resolving? One of their male friends is apparently going to be joining us there, and they’re anxious to show him off.

  There was one point right at the end of our tête-à-tête when Cassandra leaned over to me, and said, in a conspiratorial tone, “You really do understand, my dear.” She looked me right in the eye, and I had this irrational, momentary thought that she was just so very old, so weary and beset by time. Yet, she’s only two years further along than Jane, both being in their twenties.

  And then Jane said, “She does indeed, my dear, dear Elder sister.”

  There’s that word again. Elder. It means something, I know it does, but Jake and Shorter just laugh at my notions.

  Fools, fools, we’re all of us fools here.

  Log Entry (Personal): Patricia Wardon

  Jowell still wants me to run away with him, which is wholly impossible. It could change history, even though I can’t bear his children so long as I have an implant. But maybe he actually did sire children in our timeline, and maybe one or more of them had children of their own, and…oh, lordy, it is just all so complicated. I must think. I will see him again at tonight’s party.

  Log Entry #19: Jake Lawson

  Our soirée takes place this evening. Yesterday, Long and Newton surreptitiously wired Mrs. C.’s place, so we’ll have a complete record of the occasion. Shorter has already ordered us to begin preparations for our withdrawal, with a target date of no later than this weekend. All things considered, I won’t miss this place much, but I suspect Pat will. For Shorter, Long, and the rest, though, it’s just another job.

  Those who lack imagination are condemned to repeat the same mistakes over and over again.

  * * * *

  Inquiry into Time Survey #A0860:

  Official Transcripts of the Trial:

  Testimony of Defendant Patricia Elinor Wardon

  Question from Judge Number Two: Please explain to us your relationship to Jowell Chandler Mancefield.

  Response of Ms. Wardon: As I have already stated, I entered while on duty into an entirely inappropriate and unprofessional affair with Mr. Mancefield, a native of the target timeline, and I very much regret having done so. I do not fully understand myself how this could have happened. However, there can be no possible excuse for my actions.

  Question from Judge Number Six: Please relate to us the events of the evening of Wednesday, the third day of June, in the year 1801.

  Response of Ms. Wardon: I respectfully request an hour’s recess to consult with my attorney.

  Ruling of Judge Number One: Petition granted. This Court will now take an early break for lunch and reconvene promptly at one p.m. [bangs gavel]

  * * * *

  Log Entry (Personal): Patricia Wardon

  After we broke for lunch, I did spend fifteen minutes talking with my lawyer, Aaron Adrian, about one specific point of law, but then I left the courthouse, just wanting to get away. I wandered slowly down to Olvera Street, where I bought some carne asada tacos from a street vendor, and found a bench in the shade.

  My life is such a mess, Theo. There’s no doubt whatever that my career’s completely shot, and the only question is whether I’ll be spending the next ten years laboring in the maximum security facility on northern Santa Catalina Island, or maybe in Baja.

  I bit deeply into the greasy goo. It was so good, but I could feel the indigestion already grabbing hold of my gut, and I knew I had a long afternoon to look forward to.

  “Mind if I sit here?” someone said.

  I didn’t even bother to look up, I was so pissed.

  “No, go ahead,” I said.

  What could I possibly tell the judges? How could they ever believe my cockeyed theory of what really happened at Bath in the Year of Our Lord One Thousand Eight Hundred and One?

  Well, they wouldn’t, of course. I stuffed down the second taco and brushed my hands together, shaking them out over the concrete. Then I sipped deeply from my iced tea. Anything to put off my return.

  “My name’s Jack,” came the voice of my neighbor.

  “What?” I said, startled from my reverie.

  “Jack,” he said. “My name?”

  Shit, I thought to myself, now someone’s hitting on me.

  I looked at him. He was really old, in his late forties at least, maybe early fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair just starting to turn gray. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

  “Do I know you?” I asked.

  Now that was a really stupid question, girl, I thought to myself.

  “I don’t think so,” he said. He had a disarmingly disingenuous smile. “I’m waiting for my wife. She’s supposed to meet me here for lunch.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  Oh, thank God!

  “Uh, do you come here often?” I asked.

  Jesus, I was starting to sound like a teenager.

  “All the time,” he said. “When you get to be my age, you try to enjoy life one day at a time.”

  He smiled at me again. “You know, I couldn’t help noticing that you seemed, well, a little preoccupied. I’m not trying to butt in, really I’m not, but if there’s anything I can do.…”

  Yeah, right, fella, like maybe give me back my life? I have been so stupid, so goddamned dumb about things.

  I just shook my head in response. “I don’t think there’s much anyone can do,” I said, surprising myself with my candor. “I have to decide whether to tell someone an unbelievable truth or to fly with the more convincing lie.” I snorted. “I lose either way.”

  “Well,” he said, “if it’s a toss-up, then
I always go with the truth. It’s the elder and more sincere child of fantasy.”

  What? I thought, looking at him again. God, I’ve seen that face before. But where?

  “Ah, there she is,” he said, rising to his feet. “Katie!” he yelled, waving his arm.

  Then he turned to me, smiled rather sadly at my down-turned face, dropped a small package onto my lap, and ran to his waiting wife. I couldn’t really see her from where I sat: too many people were now crowding the Square.

  So I picked up the envelope, looked down at the address, and my world turned topsy-turvy around me. I knew that hand. I knew it! My eyes started leaking suddenly, I just couldn’t stop them dribbling, so I stuffed the thing into my purse without even opening the seal, pulled out some tissue, and then headed back toward the courthouse.

  * * * *

  Inquiry into Time Survey #A0860:

  Official Transcripts of the Trial:

  Testimony of Defendant Patricia Elinor Wardon (Continued)

  Order from Judge Number Six: Would the Clerk please read my last question back to the defendant?

  Response from the Court Clerk: “Please relate to us the events of the evening of Wednesday, the third day of June, in the year 1801.”

  Response of Ms. Wardon: Mr. Lawson and I took a phaeton from Green Park to Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlayne’s residence on Gay Street about six p.m., where we were graciously welcomed. Already present were the two Miss Austens, their parents, Rev. and Mrs. Austen, Mr. Mancefield, and Mr. William Sax, an out-of-town friend of the Austens. Soon to arrive were Mr. and Mrs. Dunn, Miss Anabell Wickheizer, Mr. Gilbert, Miss Caroline Worthing, and several members of the local community. Altogether the group averaged about fifteen individuals, coming and going at various times throughout the evening.

  At first, the party seemed much like any other get-together of the era. Mrs. Chamberlayne gave an impromptu recital, and Miss Worthing sang several French pieces, accompanied on the pianoforte by Miss Wickheizer. Later, I participated in two small dances, each with three or four couples.