She closed her eyes and attempted to visualize him. She only got as far as picturing his face when a strange warmth bathed her.
Her eyes shot open. Brilliant sunlight nearly blinded her, and a cool breeze teased her loose hair. Gone were the glass windows and walls of books. Instead, she stood outside the back of the house, except this was the smaller Chesterfield Park, the one without the spacious side wings, the one in which the library wasn’t yet a part of the manor.
She took in the simplistic flower beds without any of the modern brick edging, the dirt paths instead of the marble walkways. To the west where the greenhouse was supposed to be, a low structure built of gray weathered boards and a slate roof with wide double doors filled the space. It had to be the barn.
Her pulse thrummed with sudden excitement. This couldn’t be just a hallucination. It was too realistic. Had the holy water residue again worked within her in such a way that she’d breached the time-space continuum?
Any good scientist would want to test for herself the reality of her experience. But how?
An array of purple and yellow posies danced at her feet amidst spindly grass. She stooped and plucked a posy, bringing it to her nose and drawing in the scent of light sweetness. She ran her fingers over the petals, feeling the velvet. Nearby, several bees swirled among a patch of clover, their buzzing the only sound in the yard. Bending again, she broke off a blade of grass and then stuck it into her mouth, crunching it between her teeth and tasting the earthiness.
All evidence from her five senses pointed to the reality of her standing in the past. She straightened and took a small step. If she was having a hallucination, how would she be able to move?
Again she glanced around at her surroundings, this time taking in the thickly wooded area that bordered Chesterfield Park on the opposite side of the imposing brick wall that she’d seen from the front of the mansion. Overhead a hawk circled, its long wings outstretched. It resembled one of the birds in the dome in Chesterfield Park’s hallway room, one she’d never seen in the busy metropolitan Canterbury area during any of her visits.
“Should I have the maid make a coffee?” a voice called to her.
No, she silently pleaded to the vision. Don’t go away yet. But even as she tried to cling to the outdoor scene, the library surrounded her once again.
She tried to conjure the quiet garden, but the soft hum of Harrison’s wheelchair told her she was in the library. When she dared to look, she was sitting in a chair at the table, her head resting upon her arms amidst the scattered research.
Had she fallen asleep? Fatigue clouded her head, and her eyelids felt heavy with slumber. With a yawn, she stood and stretched.
“Or I can have her lay out tea?” Harrison drew nearer.
She peered out the windows. The greenhouse, with its glistening glass rooftop, graced the yard, and the gardener stood where she’d last seen him.
Had she really stepped outside into the past? It had all happened so quickly that it could have been just a vision.
The same exhaustion she’d felt after her first ingestion swept over her. She wavered and leaned against the table to keep from collapsing.
“Marian?” Harrison’s voice was edged with concern.
If the residue caused the minuscule energy particles within her to vibrate at higher frequencies, then it stood to reason the use of such energy would tax the body.
She fought the drowsiness even as she groped at a nearby chair, needing to sit. Something fell from her hand and fluttered to the floor. As she lowered herself back into the chair and glanced down, every function within her body silenced.
It was the posy.
A shiver raced up her backbone.
“Marian love, what’s happened?”
She retrieved the delicate flower, brought it to her nose, and breathed in the faint fragrance again. It was real. Totally real.
Trembling, she held it out in her palm to show Harrison.
He drew closer, his brows slanting as he took it in.
“Do you grow posies in any of the gardens?” She already knew the answer. She was well aware that Chesterfield Park’s gardens contained only elegant and cultivated species of plants, not wildflowers.
As she relayed her experience, Harrison didn’t touch the posy but instead stared at it reverently.
When she finished, he released a low whistle. “Well done, you. This posy is a massive deal. Absolutely massive. Precisely what we needed to confirm the holy water does more than just give visions.”
She gazed in wonder at the tiny piece of the past that had come with her. Gently she placed it on the table, expecting it to disappear but praying it wouldn’t.
“All the more reason to keep sorting out Arthur’s tricky clues.” Harrison swiveled in his wheelchair to face the disarray she’d left on the table. “Any luck?”
“I’ve read each paper over and over, but I’m no step closer to unlocking their mystery.” Harrison had read through them too, although reluctantly, insisting he didn’t expect her to share the information with him. She’d assured him she needed his help, that Dad had probably expected her to show him the contents of the safety deposit box and seek his input.
“Knowing Arthur, I daresay he has a specific reason for each and every item he left you.”
“Why couldn’t he spell it out and make this easier?” She yawned and fought away the fatigue still hovering over her, beckoning her to slumber.
“Because he knows you’re every bit as bright as he is and will figure it out in two shakes.”
“You had more faith in his research than I ever did.”
“I could listen to him easier because I wasn’t the one he was neglecting for the research.” Harrison’s soft comment hung suspended in the air, inviting her to unburden her hurts.
She shuffled several sheets. Harrison should know by now she wasn’t as expressive as Ellen. Dear Ellen had never had any trouble baring her soul, especially to Harrison. But Marian . . . she’d never had the luxury of giving way to her emotions, not when she needed to stay strong for Ellen and Dad. Besides, she always had so much to accomplish and never enough time to wallow in self-pity for more than a few seconds.
Harrison pointed to the sheet listing ten different Bible verses. “I see you’ve written out each of the verses using the King James Version.”
“Yes, and not surprising, they all have to do with the passing of time.” She rubbed her hands over her arms. Even with a crackling fire on the hearth and the floor heaters pumping out air, the library contained a chill that had required her to don her gray cashmere sweater above the ruffled silk blouse she was wearing with her flared dark jeans.
“What do you think they mean?” she asked. “And why did he choose these specific verses?”
“Perhaps to show that the Creator supports the fluidity of time and isn’t bound by the past, present, or future?” Harrison picked up the next paper, a diagram of a Gothic-looking stone head with a beard, mustache, long curly hair, and a protruding tongue. “How about this one? Did you discover anything about it?”
“A little.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket only to see Jasper had called two more times. She’d answered his first call earlier in the morning, and he’d been anxious when he hadn’t heard from her yesterday. She’d told him about the near-robbing and her need to hide away and catch up on sleep at Chesterfield Park. But she’d refrained from mentioning the strange visions and the ampulla.