Timeless Love Ch 08

"Shall we?" Finley asked hesitantly after Cynara and Charles disappeared inside.

"Yes, of course," Jane agreed, and started a slow pace beside him. Charles, unmindful of her small stride, was soon a few quick paces ahead of her. Jane sped up her pace to match his.

"The gardens are lovely. I'm glad Cynara forced me to stay and view them."

"Yes," Finley answered. Why couldn't he form simple sentences when he was in the presence of this girl? He felt like a schoolboy, and was completely aggravated by it.

Finley took longer strides, moving even quicker than his usual stroll, forcing Jane to give up her attempt to keep up with him. She resigned herself to staring at his back as he walked along. He got farther and farther away until he suddenly seemed to realize that she was not trailing along beside him anymore.

He turned, and when he saw her great distance, he sheepishly walked back to her.

"What's taking you so long?" He didn't mean to say that.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were in such a great hurry," Jane demurred.

"It's no big deal," he voice came out harshly. Finley's neck twitched involuntarily, and he started walking again, deliberately slowing his pace. Only now, Jane had sped hers up. She was a few paces in front of him when she turned back.

"We can walk a bit faster if you want," she told him, trying to please him.

"I told you it's no big deal," he said, keeping his steps slow. He felt bad when he saw Jane hang her head like a scolded puppy. He didn't want to upset her, but he couldn't seem to control himself.

Finley tried desperately to think of something to say to the lovely girl beside him. "Are you enjoying the garden?" he asked inanely.

"Oh yes," Jane said smiling kindly at him, "Very much."

Finley wondered at how she gave her smiles so easily, and what beautiful smiles they were. The two awkwardly circled the entire garden, barely a word being said between them.

"It was very nice to meet you, Lord Stanmore," Jane said, as her footman helped her into her carriage.

"And you, Miss Withurby," Finley's calm voice a complete opposite to what he was feeling inside.

He walked back into the house as the carriage rolled away, the feeling of wanting to cry hitting him like a lightning bolt. Finley had never in his life cried, and he was certainly not going to start now. Especially not over something as stupid as love, he thought, then quickly corrected himself. He wasn't in love.

***

Cynara hummed as she as she made her way down the stairs, getting louder and louder as she went, finally breaking out into full song: "There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando. They were shining there for you and me, for liberty, Fernando. Though we never thought that—Charlie!"

Cynara broke of when she saw Charlie staring at her from the bottom of the stairs. "What are you singing, and who's Fernando?" He asked with a smile.

"It's just a song. You scared me," she accused.

"I'm simply warning you. I think Finley will be suspicious if he finds you singing and dancing on your supposedly sprained ankle."

"I was bored of just lying in bed," she pouted, coming down the stairs to meet him.

"I was just coming back up," he told her, "We should go before Finley finds you. I saw him earlier and he did not look happy."

"Uh oh," Cynara said, "That means things did not go well."

But before the two could sneak upstairs, Finley was there.

"Hi, Finley," Cynara said innocently.

"What was the meaning of that today? Was it just some game you were playing? Do you want to humiliate me, rub it in my face?" Finley yelled at her furiously.

"Hey now," Charles said stepping in front of her, "She was just trying to help."

"You, you are so enamored with her," he told his brother accusingly, "She has you wrapped around her little finger. We don't even know where she came from."

"Cynara, who are you really?" Finley demanded as he shoved his brother out of the way. He looked her right in the eye, "We've let you stay here, have asked no explanations for your odd behavior. I've had enough, God damn it."

"Finley, calm down," Charles's voice was deep and threatening.

Cynara looked nervously at Finley. This was a side of him she had never seen before. Since she first got here he had acted like a big brother to her, a little distant but always kind. He was actually scaring her now.

"None of us believe you memory loss act, we've never believed it. I demand to know the truth now, Cynara!"

"I-" Cynara said, but found that she had nothing to say.

"Why were you dressed so oddly when you first arrived here?" he demanded. "Why are you so eager to be my brother's mistress? You act like it is nothing to you—definitely not the behavior of a lady—anything but a lady."

Cynara couldn't understand why Finley was saying such cruel things to her. She quaked at this person that was not the Finley she knew and loved.

"That's enough," Charles said, once again stepping in front of her, facing his older brother menacingly.

"Charles, you would let some whore come between us?" Finley asked derisively. The words were barely out of his mouth, when Charles's fist landed squarely on his brother's jaw.

Cynara gasped as the brothers growled and instantly started throwing punches at each other, the sound of bone hitting bone filling the room. She couldn't bear to see the brothers fighting, especially over her.

Cynara ran back up the stairs and into the safe haven of Charlie's room. She sat down on the bed, tears spilling from her eyes. She didn't want them to fight, and she wished she could tell them where she was from, but they would simply think her crazy.

She felt her head pounding, a headache coming on. She laid her weary frame back on the bed. She wasn't feeling well at all, and hoped that she wasn't getting too sick. She would be better after she rested for a bit, she was tired, so tired.

All of a sudden she realized that she had felt this exact same way before. When she had first traveled through time and had met Charlie. Noo, she thought desperately, realizing what was happening to her. She tried to stay awake, but her eyelids felt weighted.

She grabbed the bed sheets in her hand, but the material just fell out of her hand like sand. She was asleep.

***

Cynara sat up in bed, still trying to fight to stay awake, but she almost instantly knew it was too late. She looked down at herself. Still wearing her dress, but the room was different. It was 2007. She was back to her own time.

Cynara sat up. There was no one in the room, thank God, but she could hear voices outside. She quickly hopped off the bed, where she knew she was not supposed to be. Charlie, she thought as she looked back at it.

The bed looked older now, more worn. In Charlie's time, it was new. Though she was still young, he had aged with this bed. The fact that Charlie was now long dead was a disturbing one, the fact that he had gotten older, lived his life. A life that she had not been apart of.

"Cynara," she heard her name, sounding like it had come from far away.

"Charlie," she said turning, but no one was there.

She could hear a tour guide leading a group down the hall, they would soon be in the room. They would find her here, dressed inexplicably in eighteenth century garb, but Cynara didn't even care.

"Now for the haunted room," the tour guide said loudly, right before opening the door. She stopped and stared at Cynara, surprised.

One of the tourists snapped a picture.

"Excuse me," Cynara said as she shoved past the group and down the stairs. There were people mulling around now, the entrance hall turned into a lobby and gift shop. She wanted to yell at them, kick them all out. This was her home. They had no right to be here, to take pictures.

Cynara knew she was being irrational, of course. She had been one of those tourists just earlier that week. Some people were staring at her now, no doubt wondering if she was going to put on some sort of a show.

Haunted. The word suddenly resonated in Cynara's brain. Why hadn't she thought of it before? She thought back to the tour she took before she even traveled through time. The lady said that the second eldest son's ghost haunted the room.

But how had he died?

Cynara quickly rushed back up the stairs, and joined the tour group now in Charles's room. The woman was just explaining some of the weird occurrences that some of the employees had seen occur there.

"How did he die?" Cynara asked from the back of the group. The tourists turned to look at her, surprised to see her again, but no one said anything about it. They all instead turned curiously to the tour guide.

"He was wounded in a duel," she answered professionally, "He was brought back here, but died of his injuries that very night."

Cynara felt her heart beat faster, "How old was he," she couldn't keep the emotion out of her voice, which prompted even more strange looks.

"I believe he was twenty-two," the tour guide answered.

The age he was when she knew him. Cynara could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

"My dear, are you okay?" the tour guide asked, putting a reassuring hand on Cynara's arm.

"Yes, yes. It's just so sad, you know?" Cynara said, and the lady nodded, although she no doubt found Cynara's behavior to be truly odd. "Do you know if he had a wife?" she asked on a whim.

"No, he was unwedded when he died."

Cynara nodded sadly. What if this meant she would never be able to go back? Or if she did, would Charles already be dead?

"There was a rumor that there was a mysterious young lady that stole his heart," she added conspiratorially, "But she just up and vanished one day—there is no historical proof that she ever existed, though," the tour guide shrugged.

Cynara looked down at the hem of her dress. "What about Finley's diary?" she said suddenly looking up, remembering what her old tour guide had said. The woman seemed surprised, and the group of tourists became all the more invested in their conversation.

"The thing was all but practically destroyed. By who, we don't know. Only a couple pages were salvaged."

"And what about him—Finley? And the rest of the brothers? What happened to them?" Cynara asked eagerly.

"None of them ever married, though the other three lived long lives. Their sister, Katherine, also died tragically young, though, like Charles."

"And that's all you know?" Cynara asked desperately. The mention of Katherine left Cynara feeling guilty, she had never even met the girl. Her brothers had never spoken of her.

"Yes."

Cynara looked hopelessly at the kind woman. What could she do? She had been extremely helpful so far, not least for the fact that she didn't question her about her dress or her apparent investment in this long dead family.

Cynara gave a brave smile and said a thank-you before she turned to leave. She walked down and out of the building. Was it fate then? Was this was what was supposed to happen? Could she change anything?

Cynara had to beg for enough money for the bus fee, and the kindly tourists were more than happy to help the odd girl in the olden day dress. When she got back to her grandmother's house, the old woman seemed surprised to see her, having thought she had made the trip to Paris early.

Cynara mumbled something, and numbly walked up to the guest room. She sat there on the bed, letting the day slip away. She didn't even think, didn't want to.

When night came, she couldn't keep her thoughts at bay any longer. She would never see Charlie again. He would die. She would never see him again. Never see him.

Cynara curled up into a ball and cried, more tears than she even knew she had in her.