Chapter 28
Twenty-eight
It was possible that there were more things in Stratford, never mind heaven and earth, than were dreamt of in any philosophy.
Sam stood at the edge of the company that was milling about both on stage and down on the lawn and marveled at the fact that he’d arrived at the outer rim of that collection of souls with his poor form unpierced by any number of potentially lethal weapons masquerading as stage props.
He was anxious to make his way over to Harriet and her guardsmen, but realized that he had one more thing to see to and that was the man who’d joined him in his loitering on the edge of the company.
He checked Callum’s hands for weapons and was a bit more relieved than he likely should have been to find them empty.
He was slightly less relieved to find that his usual glib tongue had deserted him. Fortunately for them both, Callum was as ready with a comment as he generally was with a text.
“A decent bit of maneuvering there, my lad,” Callum noted.
“Well, those three will likely do a perfectly adequate job in their new roles,” Sam said carefully.
“Glad you’ll not be the one casting Master Elwood in any role?”
Sam took a deep breath, and put on a pleasant if non-committal expression, and kept his bloody mouth shut. Silence persuaded when speaking failed and all that.
Callum nodded, apparently in appreciation of the same. “Nice to also finally meet the man with such deep pockets.”
“I’m not sure he’s thrilled about stepping out from the shadows,” Sam conceded, “but I’m sure he’ll continue to carry on capably.”
“Speaking of shadows,” Callum said, “that was an interesting lad glaring carving-knives at you when he could ‘ave simply picked your pockets.”
Sam blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“That lad who dove under the stage and disappeared. Some mighty magic there, aye? Hope he doesn’t show up with his hands out and a pitiful, please, sir, some more? spilling out o’ his mouth.”
Sam felt his mouth fall open and found retrieving his jaw to be a somewhat dodgy proposition. “Ah—”
Callum only looked at him blandly. “Sorry, did I misspeak?”
Sam studied the man standing next to him for a moment or two. “Angling for a part in our next Dickensian Christmas show, are you?”
“Wouldn’t that be a treat,” Callum said with a cheeky grin.
Sam suspected he’d missed something that he should have marked before, but perhaps he would leave it for his lady wife and her sharp eyes and nimble bit of note-taking.
“You know, I’m not sure I want to know anything else,” he admitted.
“You might, though,” Callum said with a half shrug. “But perhaps later, over a pint, aye? You’re buying.”
“Of course.”
Callum smiled briefly. “I’m an honest thief, at least.”
“I don’t think you’re much of a thief at all.”
“Not now,” Callum agreed. “But London’s changed since my youth and I’ve the decent bed and enough food that I didn’t have then.
” He smiled. “I’ll work with what you’ve sorted over there and let you know if I need aid.
Or funds,” he added. “And by the by, lad, I know you didn’t buy your way onto the stage. ”
Sam was beginning to think he might run out of words before the day was over.
“A small inheritance,” he managed. “Had to do something useful with it.”
“And I had no inheritance at all,” Callum said, “save nimble fingers and an ability to pay attention to lads with knives who weren’t afraid to use ‘em. Useful skills, those, wouldn’t you say?”
“Very,” Sam agreed promptly.
Callum shrugged. “More things in heaven and earth, am I right?”
Sam decided at that moment that he was going to have to query not only his brother but a cousin or two and their respective relatives for a few facial expressions to wear when faced with paranormal absurdities.
His uncle Robin’s look of disbelief and the subsequent shaking of the head whilst muttering damned irony was not cutting it any longer.
He shut his mouth that had been hanging open and attempted a polite yet disinterested look that earned him another cheeky grin.
“Know what a beau trap is, do you?”
Sam shook his head.
“Loose cobblestone,” Callum said. “In olden times it would generally be hiding a bit of water underneath itself, for its own purposes no doubt. Step on it, though, and your lady’s dress was ruined in the resulting splash. Makes you wonder, don’t it, what’s under loose stones these days.”
“Um …”
“Or the same might refer to a decently dressed lad taking financial advantage of a stupider, if not richer man.”
“Are you calling me stupid?” Sam asked weakly.
“Blimey, nay,” Callum said with a bit of a smile. “Just thought you’d find the term interesting.” His smile faded into a more serious expression. “You’ve slipped a few of Her Maj’s finest into my pockets when you thought I wasn’t looking and I won’t forget that.”
“And you saved my arse one night down by the river when Aelia likely would have pushed me in and drowned me.”
“Can’t say that isn’t true, but she has what she wants now, don’t she?”
“We can hope,” Sam managed. He looked at Callum and supposed there was no reason not to get things out on the table. “And how do you find London these days?”
“When I can be arsed to go visit me old haunts?” Callum asked. He shrugged. “The air’s better than it used to be and the nannies a bit more discreet, what?”
Sam gave up. “I wouldn’t know.”
Callum put his hand on Sam’s shoulder briefly. “As a married man, lad, you shouldn’t.” He nodded toward the grass. “I’ll see what’s afoot there and keep you apprised.”
“I’m going on my honeymoon for a pair of days.”
“I’ll apprise you after the weekend, then.”
“Good of you.”
Callum grinned again, then hopped off the stage.
Sam wondered if it might be too early in the day to look for somewhere to sit, but before he could properly come to a conclusion about that, he found himself standing next to his cousin.
“He’s not modern.”
“You think?” Sam managed.
“Quite often,” Jackson said pleasantly. He studied Callum for a moment or two. “Victorian, I’m guessing.”
“I suspect you might be right.”
Jackson shook his head. “You time travelers and your acting. Can’t you just settle down into your proper spot on the timeline and be content?”
Sam would have replied with the words that question deserved, but his cousin had laughed a little and walked away before he could.
He followed after Jackson and soon found himself happily standing off stage under a tree with his wife in his arms and a pair of decent guardsmen not eyeing him for sport any time soon.
“About that thinking,” Jackson began.
“The saints preserve us,” Sam said, resting his chin atop Harriet’s head. “Go on, since I don’t think I can stop you.”
“We should have a formal parley at Wyckham,” Jackson said seriously. “With us, perhaps our uncle John, and Stephen. There are others from our side of Hadrian’s wall who might be interested in at least exchanging numbers.”
“Fine,” Sam said. “You plan it. Let’s not disturb Laird James, though. I’m certain he has things to do.”
“It isn’t only Jamie you need to worry about,” Oliver said mildly.
“Very well, invite him but ask him to leave his Claymore at home,” Sam amended.
“And don’t forget Patrick,” Oliver added. “You might like him if you could convince him not to kill you right off, but that’s always dependent on his mood for the day.”
Sam felt Harriet laugh a little and wasn’t sure if he should have been amused or offended. He did manage to catch her eye and smile at her before he looked back at those two lads there.
“Do what you like, Jack,” he said. “We’ll be there. Well, not soon. Harriet and I have plans.”
Jackson shuddered delicately. “I don’t want to know what they are. Oliver, perhaps we should go protect Rufus from his hordes of admirers. I think these two can get themselves back to London without aid.”
Oliver shrugged. “One can hope. Cheers, all.”
Sam watched them go and had to shake his head. The things that lingered under the occasionally blue skies of England that he’d never imagined might exist …
“Sam?”
He looked at one of the best things lingering under that cloudy British summer sky and smiled briefly. “Forgive me,” he said, feeling his smile fade. “I should have had a better handle on everything today. It won’t happen again.”
“It was a fluke,” she said seriously, “and you took care of him in the end. But just so you know, I’ve already talked to Oliver about a few self-defense lessons. He has opinions.”
“I’m certain he does,” Sam said, trying not to shiver. “You won’t be turning those skills on me, will you?”
“Depends on how bossy you get.”
He smiled, had a sweet kiss as his reward, then looked over her head and nodded his thanks to Oliver and Jackson both.
Perhaps having that little parley at Wyckham would be useful after all.
‘Twas for damned certain he hadn’t seen the morning’s events coming on his own.
He and Theo were painstakingly thorough about cleaning up details in any given era, but they weren’t infallible.
That morning was proof enough of that.
“Did your new director just give you the weekend off?” Harriet asked.
Sam listened for a moment to Aelia rallying the troops then looked at his wife in surprise. “I believe she did.” He smiled. “Whatever shall we do with all that time on our hands?”
“We could go help your brother with his retreat.”
Sam choked, then realized she was teasing him. “We’ll text him a supportive message,” he said. “Should we go take your parents out for lunch?”
She shook her head. “They have plans, though my father did let me know he’s going to want his pajamas back eventually.”
“A pity,” Sam said lightly. “I quite like them.”
“On me.”
“Well, my lady, that might be the truth there.”
“My mother told us to have a good time on our honeymoon and to call them when we get back.”