Chapter 21 #2
She looked at the door and found that her feet were suddenly stuck to the stone of the steps. She looked up at him.
“I think I’m having an out-of-body experience,” she managed.
“You might be surprised how often that happens, but still, not to worry.” He opened the door, then stepped inside first and held the door open for her. “We may wish to speak in French if you can.”
Harriet imagined she might wish not to speak at all.
Her knowledge of somewhat salty terms in a variety of languages and her command of Roman numerals wasn’t going to get her very far, nor was her ability to translate things like I marched all the way to the Colosseum and all I got was this lousy toga into Latin.
“Or you could allow me to carry on the conversations in your stead,” Connor added. “’Twould be my honor to do so.”
She though that ‘twould be best, so she nodded and prepared herself to make nice with Sam’s family with merely a few smiles.
“And there is my mother by the fire,” Connor said very quietly. “I’ll introduce you, then we’ll find you a chamber where you can rest for the afternoon.” He smiled. “Not to worry. Your parents will be safely located and escorted here. I’m sure of it.”
She refrained from telling him that worrying was a part-time job with her, and put on her best customer-service smile to go meet the lady of the hall.
She woke with a start and found herself somehow standing next to her bed before she realized she was actually awake and not trapped in a dream where she was the only one with a sword and hordes of French-speaking zombies were attempting to get past her to do in not only her parents, but the entire population of Samuel de Piaget’s familial home.
Apparently time-traveling came with its own special brand of jetlag.
She blew out her breath and crawled back into bed.
It was warm, at least, and the goose-feather mattress so far superior to what she’d expected to find a pair of days earlier that she could almost imagine she was cosplaying in a resort instead of being trapped in the real thing.
She made herself comfortable and allowed herself a few minutes of pretending to still be asleep before she got up to face another day in medieval England.
Not that her time in a time definitely not her own had been terrible so far.
She was warm, safe, and surrounded by very lovely people who had seemingly bought Connor’s story that she was a highly educated heiress from somewhere in Italy who could only communicate in Latin.
She had limited herself to comments on the weather and the superior things coming out of the kitchens, then settled for dividing her time between hiding in the shadows and pleading weariness so she could escape back to her room where she could definitely be out of the limelight.
Given that’s where she was most comfortable in her own family, it hadn’t been a problem.
She’d also managed to practice a little French with Connor in the garden when she’d been awake enough to.
Her high school slog through all those crazy verbs was coming back to her, but not quickly enough to make much difference.
She’d decided that if worse came to worst, she could hie herself off to the local nunnery where Latin would be the order of the day and she could definitely remain unnoticed.
The rest of the time, she’d been aided in the task of keeping herself to the edges of things by the fact that Wyckham was overrun by Sam’s siblings and their children.
She felt fairly confident that she’d met at least two older sisters who were married along with one other older brother who was also married with children, all of whom held in their midst Sam’s mother who looked exactly like the sun with the solar system rotating around her and benefitting from her light.
It was no wonder Sam was the sunny, lovely soul he was.
Harriet stared up at the canopy over her head and allowed herself to think about him in ways she honestly hadn’t dared to before.
The first thing on her list was wondering how it was he’d managed to assimilate so well into a time not his own.
Now that she knew what to look for, she could see how there were definitely echoes of his medieval life in his current one, especially those touches of a very courtly chivalry.
She envied the woman who would benefit from that for the rest of her life.
She also wondered if the wench would have a damned clue what lurked beneath the surface of her gorgeous, charming, medieval husband.
She pushed herself up suddenly and forced herself out of bed before she started thinking about things that would only make her cranky.
She was there to wait for Sam to rescue her parents, thank him for the same, then get through a single dinner with him.
She was not there to throw her arms around him the moment she saw him and blurt out that he was the most adorable man ever created and could he use a second for the rest of his life.
She got herself ready in proper medieval miss style, made sure she was laced and covered in all the right places—including a lovely pair of slippers that fit very well—and ignored the fact that she looked like she was wearing something from her mother’s secret LARPing stash.
At least she wasn’t wearing any tulle-draped hats. It could have been worse.
She put her shoulders back and walked purposefully over to the doorway because there was no time like the present to get a grip on the past. She opened the door to find a kid, probably eight or so, leaning against the far wall, looking official. He straightened immediately and made her a quick bow.
“I am Henri,” he said. “Milady’s page.”
Harriet sent Connor de Piaget a silent thank-you for the list of Useful Medieval French Phrases he’d made her the day before, then nodded regally to her new page.
“If you’ll follow me?”
She nodded again, then pulled her door shut behind her and hoped the boy wasn’t leading her off somewhere she might regret having gone, such as the dungeon. They weren’t heading downstairs, though, which she found very reassuring.
Henri stopped in front of a door and knocked.
He opened the door, then he made her a bow and took up his post on the opposite side of the hallway, abandoning her to her fate.
Harriet peeked inside what she assumed was someone’s private retreat, only to find Sam’s mother there, all by herself.
She wasn’t sure what the protocol was, but decided that a curtsey couldn’t go wrong.
Jennifer de Piaget laughed briefly, then walked over and drew her inside the room before she shut the door and smiled.
“Latin?” she asked politely.
“Veni, Vidi, Vici,” Harriet said dutifully. “Gelato ubi est?”
Jennifer smiled. “I understood that part, but I’m afraid we’re all out of anything frozen. Are you up for a little conversation this morning? I’ve been dying to talk to you, but I thought rest served you better.”
Harriet nodded, then realized what seemed strange.
Sam’s mother was speaking modern English.
Jennifer caught her as she swayed. “Harriet?”
“You’re speaking English,” Harriet wheezed. “With an American accent.”
Jennifer laughed a little. “Guilty as charged. Come sit, love, and let me get you something to drink. Then we’ll chat.”
Harriet sat where invited and accepted a cup of something she didn’t question before she downed it. She took a deep breath, then looked up at Sam’s mother. “Am I awake?”
Jennifer laughed as she rescued Harriet’s cup and set it on a table next to her, then took her own seat.
“Yes, you are, sweetheart,” she said kindly.
“And again, I’m so sorry I’ve left you at loose ends for so long.
You’ve probably had too much time to think about too many questions you didn’t have answers to. ”
“Ten children,” Harriet managed weakly. “You’re pretty busy.”
“With them and an ever-increasing number of grandbabies,” Jennifer agreed. “It’s complete mayhem most of the time.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble—”
“Well, of course you aren’t,” Jennifer said, sounding genuinely surprised. “I’m thrilled you’re here and I absolutely want to hear all about what you’re doing in your life and how you met Sam. And I’ll answer whatever questions you have for me, if you have any.”
Harriet opened and closed her mouth several times, looking for the right thing to say, and found that all she could do was look at Sam’s mother and remain speechless. Jennifer laughed a little again.
“I understand believe me.”
“You’re an American,” Harriet managed. “Still. Here, in medieval England.”
Jennifer nodded. “All true.”
Harriet supposed there was no harm in taking a good look at Sam’s mother, so she did.
The woman was gorgeous—Sam had definitely benefitted from great genes from both parents—and didn’t seem to be stressed over the thought of living hundreds of years out of her proper time, but how she’d come to be where she was …
“I’m not sure where to begin,” she said carefully. “I don’t want to be nosey.”
“Well, if I were in your shoes, I would have a ridiculous number of questions, so don’t worry about that. What if I give you the short version, then you tell me if you want more?”
Harriet nodded. “I’m braced.”
Jennifer laughed easily and it was like sunlight. Harriet felt herself relax a bit and set that aside as something to tell Sam when she saw him next.
“I don’t get to talk about this very often,” she said, her eyes bright, “so forgive me if I enjoy this more than maybe I should. The quick version is that I was over here visiting my sister when I accidentally stepped through a time gate only to find myself being rescued from a few thugs by a gorgeous blond guy on an almost white horse.”
Harriet smiled. “Very romantic.”