A Question of Time Book Three

By Sandra Bruney

Caroline and Nathan's former enemy Rasmussen reappears as a magician calling himself the Great Manzini. As Manzini, he kidnaps King Thomas Jefferson the Fourth during a magic show at the Ford Theater and demands an impossible ransom. A time-traveler himself, Nathan understands how the trick was done, but when he confronts the villain, Manzini sends Nathan sixty years into the future. Nathan returns, unable to explain his absence, and is arrested as an accomplice to the kidnapping and possible murder. In vain he tries to explain the kidnapping was a ruse to deflect attention from a greater threat to the nation.
Caroline must rescue the missing monarch...but will she find Thomas is time to prove her husband's innocence and right a hundred-year-old wrong?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Bruney
• Release date: Sep 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005469429

Sandra Bruney

I am a writer living in North Carolina. I enjoy reading, crafting, gardening, and obeying the whims of my rescue cats.

Book preview

A Question of Time

by

Sandy Bruney

A Question of Time

Copyright 2015 by Sandra Z. Bruney

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

Any resemblance to actual people and events is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction.

To Elbert and Carla Marshall for their excellent editorial assistance

and their continuing friendship. Thank you!

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

About the Author

Other Books by the Author

Morven Excerpt

Chapter One

If she had ever hated anyone, it was that man.

A dead man was walking down Canal Street.

He scurried along the sidewalk like a beetle seeking the shelter of a rock, shoulders hunched against the cold wind, hands stuffed in the pockets of a black overcoat falling to his boot tops. The brim of his top hat was pulled down over his forehead.

Caroline Llewellen was not a person who declared something impossible. She had had experience with the impossible, and so she decided, impossible or not, Rasmussen must not be as dead as she had presumed. Obviously, she had been wrong, because here he was in Washington, D.C.

He had somehow returned from the dead or from the dark tunnel where Nathan had sent him in eighteen ninety-five, three years past. She had imagined him tumbling there endlessly and had to admit the thought had never caused her the slightest distress.

What distressed her now was his apparent return.

Jim! Stop! she said urgently, leaning forward.

Ma’am? The chauffeur slowed, but was unable to halt the steam carriage as quickly as his mistress demanded.

That man… She shrank back as the object of her concern looked up and directly at her, as if he had heard her voice. She knew he couldn’t have over the chugging of the engine, and even if he had he would not recognize her with her lower face swathed in a woolen scarf and her wide hat brim obscuring her eyes.

No, never mind. Go on, Jim, she said, hating the quaver in her voice. She was shaking and her limbs felt weak, as if the mere proximity to sheer evil had affected her physically as well as mentally.

Jim nodded, blinked his faded blue eyes, and sped on. A wiry man in his mid-sixties, he knew better than to question his mistress.

She gazed at the gaily-wrapped packages on the seat next to her, all joy gone. She knew she had to tell Nathan and felt an icy cold in her veins that had nothing to do with the weather. They had seldom spoken of the day Rasmussen had trapped them in an old warehouse with the intent of murdering them and then burning the building down to hide the evidence of his crime. But Nathan had, with her help, broken free of his bonds and pushed the man through the gate into the dark tunnel that led to another reality.

She had never quite understood how it worked, although Nathan had tried to explain it was something that had first appeared to him as a child. Nor did he know why or how it appeared, only that it came when he needed it most.

Their hope was that Rasmussen had stayed in the tunnel, or at worst had landed somewhere from where he couldn’t come back.

Yet here he was.

She clutched her hands in her fox-fur muff and wriggled her feet in fur-lined leather boots, grateful for the warmth provided by the coals that fueled the steam engine propelling the vehicle. Still, her nose was cold and she knew it must be as red as an apple. Winter in the District of Columbia was different from winter in Charlotte, North Carolina, where she had grown up. Here, the icy dampness crept into your bones and stayed there. As they sped along the city streets, the late-afternoon dusk giving way to the new electric lights at every street corner, she anticipated sitting before a cozy fire, sipping a cup of hot tea, and discussing the day’s affairs with Nathan. Only now, instead of a cozy chat, she would have to tell him about Rasmussen. No matter how she phrased it, the knowledge would still be a shock.

She was brought back to her own particular reality when Jim pulled up in front of an imposing brick house and halted the steam carriage. He hopped out and opened the door for Caroline, touching his cap in respect as she climbed down. Shall I take your packages in, Ma’am? Then I’ll fetch Mister Llewellen from his office.

Yes. Thank you. I mean, yes to the packages, no to fetching Mister Llewellen. He told me he would take a cab home since he didn’t know how long he’d be.

Jim nodded and followed her inside. Mrs. Porter, a tall woman with a long, narrow face and keen brown eyes, took her cloak and bonnet. Then the housekeeper bustled off on some errand of her own.

Caroline turned from the wide entry hall into the parlor, Jim following with his arms laden with her purchases. She motioned for him to put them on a table. After he left, she stared at the boxes and bags. The trip to the bookstore in downtown Washington had allowed her to cross several names off her Christmas list. A recent shipment from England resulted in a book on the history of mathematics for her stepmother, Matilda Featherstone, and an illustrated volume on the inventions of Leonardo da Vinci for her father that should delight .’s scientific bent. For Nathan she had selected the latest in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s mysteries featuring the sleuth Sherlock Holmes. And last, but not the least, of her purchases was a picture book for Sophie.

She hoped Sophie would look at the pictures and not eat the pages as she had her last book.

She sat and stared unseeing as the dusk closed in, her thoughts tumbling through her brain. There was not a doubt among them. I know it was him. Unconsciously, her fists clenched. If she had ever hated anyone, it was that man.

When a maid entered the room and lit the gas lamps, Caroline realized that Nathan was not yet home and her news would have to be postponed until after dinner. She climbed the wide stairway to the second floor and her bedroom, where she changed her practical skirt and blouse for a low-backed evening dress. She knew the dark blue of the gown emphasized her sapphire-blue eyes and brought out the gold tints in her hair. She hadn’t cared about such things until she met Nathan. Now she wanted to please him, and imagined the expression in his eyes when he saw her. Blushing, she added diamond earrings and a matching brooch.

Tabby met her on the landing, and the two women descended the staircase, each holding up her long skirts to avoid tripping. Caroline jerked at her gown’s low neckline, taking out her frustration on a style she thought more revealing than it needed to be.

Tabby, too, had changed from her daytime nursemaid’s uniform of starched navy skirt and white shirtwaist to a bronze-colored poplin gown that emphasized her green-gold eyes and soft brown hair. Like Caroline, she had swept her locks into an arrangement of curls instead of the bun that kept them in control during the day.

I suppose, she said, noticing Caroline’s attempts at modesty, it makes sense to Mister Llewellen to require us to dress for dinner since we never know if he’s bringing company or not.

Caroline attempted to match her friend’s tone. No need to bring Rasmussen up now. Not until I talk to Nathan.

He could call ahead, but he never thinks of that. Sometimes I wish he weren’t so impulsive. Now that we are trading again with Europe, I could be asked at a moment’s notice to entertain a representative from Britain or France, or even Germany — oh! Caroline flew down the last few steps. Nathan! She stopped herself just in time from flinging her arms around her husband’s neck.

Nathan was not so reticent. Stripping off his gloves, he held her face between his hands and bestowed a kiss on her cheek. He laughed when she drew back.

Your hands are like ice!

Sorry. He didn’t sound repentant. Is Sophie in her crib already? He handed his overcoat and hat to an ever-alert Mrs. Porter.

Yes, and just now asleep.

Then I won’t disturb her. I’ll peek in on her later, if it’s permissible? He addressed his question to Tabby, who stood quietly to one side.

You needn’t ask, sir. You’re her father.

Nathan made a show of seeming annoyed at the woman who, besides being his daughter’s nursemaid, was his wife’s oldest and dearest friend. I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘sir.’

Yes, sir, Tabby said with a smile that revealed a small dimple in her chin. She dipped her head. We should…

Yes. Missus Poldark is waiting, I’m afraid. Caroline took Nathan’s arm, and Tabby followed the couple into the dining room.

Once they had been served, Caroline found it difficult to eat anything, although she tried. She might be outwardly composed, but inside she felt as shaky as the bowl of tomato aspic before her. She was also aware that Nathan was watching her. In an effort to divert his attention, she said, Sophie took almost three steps this morning before she fell.

Indeed! I wish I had seen it. He beamed. Our girl is growing up.

She’s not putting her hair up and assuming long skirts just yet, Caroline forced a laugh, but she was happy to talk about their daughter. Dinner went on until dessert was served (and refused) by all three diners, who rose as one from the table.

I’d best go upstairs, Caroline, Tabby said at the door. I don’t like leaving Sophie alone, although the speaking tube your father installed allows us to hear her in every room.

Which means we’ll hear her if she so much as stirs. You could relax with us awhile.

Tabby just smiled her little smile and shook her head. I’m all caught up in that book, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. I can’t imagine what will happen next.

Then I won’t tell you. Goodnight. Caroline hugged her friend warmly before letting her leave.

Goodnight, Nathan called after her, and shook his head ruefully when he heard, Good night, Mister Nathan.

Will she ever unbend? I’ve begged her not to be so formal.

She confided in me that she is afraid she will forget when company is present and shock them out of their sensibilities by addressing you as a familiar. And she is careful to call me ‘Caroline’ only when we are alone. She is Sophie’s nursemaid, not family.

More family than staff, and she knows it, Nathan groused.

I’m happy she feels that we are family, for she had nowhere to land when her husband turned out to be a cad and a bigamist as well. And we are fortunate she came to us, because Sophie could not have a better nurse.

I agree. Nathan strode to a glass-fronted cabinet and selected a bottle and glass, into which he poured a thimble of brandy. Caroline shook her head when he held the glass out to her. She needed her wits about her to tell him who she had seen that afternoon.

Taking his drink to a comfortable chair by the fire, he sat and took a sip. Now, tell me what was bothering you all through dinner. I thought Christmas shopping would put you in a happy mood.

She stared down at her hands which, she was startled to observe, were shaking. I thought I was hiding my feelings.

I may not be as clever as you are in reading people’s emotions, but even I can tell something is wrong. I think Tabby could, too, and that’s why she withdrew, giving us privacy. What is it, love?

Oh, Nathan. Coming home today I was quite certain — no, positive — I saw Mister Rasmussen. The words out, she sat back in her chair and released a deep breath.

Nathan didn’t question her declaration. Instead, he leaned forward, hands clasped on his knees. Where?

On Canal Street, just before it turns on Foxhollow Road. He was walking along the canal.

Nathan’s jaw tightened. I thought he was gone for good. He must somehow have found his way back.

Now that she had shared her fears, Caroline allowed herself to release muscles that had been tight for far too long. Thank you for not doubting me, she murmured.

I have too much faith in your good sense to doubt you. That said, we have a problem. He may seek revenge for what I did in that warehouse.

She shuddered. You tried to kill him.

He tried to kill us first, he reminded her. And may be eager to try again. I wish I knew how long he’s been back. If he’s just arrived, he may not yet know where we live.

It would be easy enough to find out. You’re not exactly unknown.

True. He frowned. I don’t have to wonder what he wants. The question is when he will strike.

Caroline sucked in a breath. How long can we wait?

We have no time, since we don’t know what he’s planning. I’ll alert Jim to keep an eye on the house tonight, and tomorrow I’ll call the Doyle Detective Agency and see what they can find out. And I will ask the police to watch the house. His fingers tapped an invisible list on his knee. Hopefully, he will be found and arrested before he can do any harm.

Arrested?

Have you forgotten we witnessed him murdering one of his own men? And the police suspect he’s guilty of killing several others.

And have you forgotten we fled the scene so as not to become involved with the police? We can’t come forward as witnesses now. They will wonder why we didn’t speak up at the time.

You’re right, as usual. But there were several men who know about the other murders who will be willing to come forward. Strange as it seems, there is honor among thieves and they haven’t forgotten Rasmussen’s treachery toward their fellows, killing them as soon as they became liabilities. He stood abruptly. I’ll go talk to Jim. We’ll check every window and door, I promise you.

Her fear slightly alleviated now that something was being done, Caroline nodded. I hope he’s caught soon, Nathan. I won’t rest until he is.

Nathan’s reply was grim as he exited the room. Neither will I.

****

It took both men an hour to check every ground floor window and door of the three-story mansion. The only way any of the upper rooms could be reached was by ladder, and Jim promised to keep a sharp eye out all night, if need be.

I’ll be awake as well. In the morning I’ll hire proper security and we can both take a well-earned nap. Nathan’s attempt at a joke fell flat as Jim shook his head.

I’ll keep a weapon to hand, just in case, he said before ducking inside the carriage house, where he lived in an apartment above the assorted vehicles.

Weapon?

The tire spanner. With that, Jim shut the door.

Nathan trod back to the house. He kept no weapons except for his grandfather’s rabbit gun, which he hadn’t fired in over a decade. His participation in the rebellion in Floriana, now almost two years past, had cured him of the desire to own anything that could maim or kill. Still, tomorrow he might look into buying a revolver. His family’s safety outweighed his qualms.

Locking the door behind him, he climbed up the stairs. Caroline was asleep, her fair hair spread over the pillow, her hands resting on her bosom. Two faint lines between her eyebrows testified that she was not entirely at rest.

Easing from the room, he climbed a second set of stairs. Sophie was awake, her eyes meeting his. The combination of his own emerald-green eyes and Caroline’s sapphire-blue had created a startling turquoise that often prompted perfect strangers to stop and admire her, which pleased Caroline and embarrassed him.

Go to sleep, he whispered, and to his amazement she obediently rolled on her side and put her thumb in her mouth. Her long dark lashes fanned her cheeks. Nathan’s breath caught in his throat at the thought of anyone harming her — or her mother.

A gentle snore from behind the closed door adjoining the nursery told him Tabby was as sound asleep as her mistress. Probably sounder, since she had no idea of the threat that hung over them.

He didn’t go into the other wing of the building, where Mrs. Poldark, Mrs. Porter, and the maids slept. Rasmussen wouldn’t bother them, surely. He had no quarrel with them.

Only him, and by extension, Caroline.

Perhaps he didn’t know about Sophie. Nathan’s fingers curled into fists. If that man hurts one hair on my child’s head…

The hours crept by as he wandered from one room to the other, listening, waiting. When dawn finally lightened the sky, he made his way upstairs again and entered the bedroom where he sat on a chair and let his head fall back. He would shut his eyes for just a moment.

****

When Caroline awoke, he was still there, his lips slightly parted, his chest gently rising and falling.

For a moment she wondered what he was doing fully clothed so early, then remembered. He had been up all night.

That fact concerned her more than seeing Rasmussen the day before. It meant Nathan was as frightened as she was.

Chapter Two

I thought you to be softhearted.

After calling Doyle’s and hiring two guards, Nathan warned Caroline not to leave the house. Then, telling his chauffeur to get some rest, he drove himself to his office on Fourth Street, two blocks from the Parliament building. He could see the top of the Washington Monument from his window and he was staring at it when he heard a rap on the door.

Before he could say Come in, the door opened and a slender, fair-haired man entered and took a seat across from him. The uninvited guest leaned both arms on the desk that separated them and said, What’s going on? You resemble something the cat dragged in.

Good morning to you too. Nathan barely repressed a yawn. What brings you here besides idle curiosity?

Fitzherbert Doyle’s keen gray eyes never wavered. You hire two of my best men and wonder that I’m curious?

I was going to call you, Nathan said lamely. As soon as I got my thoughts in order. We do need your help, Fitz.

I repeat, what’s going on? Fitz’s eyes narrowed.

Too much, Nathan groaned. Caroline saw Rasmussen yesterday, walking along the canal.

I thought he fled to the West and was hiding with outlaws. I can’t believe he’d brazenly come back with a price on his head.

He never left Washington, D.C. That was a story I started to explain why his body wasn’t found along with his accomplice after the fire.

Then you shouldn’t be surprised to see him.

I said he never left Washington. I didn’t say he never left eighteen ninety-five.

Fitz said nothing as his face paled. He sat back, pursing his lips as if about to whistle, then shook his head. Are you telling me you pushed him through that gate, or portal, or whatever you call it?

Nathan nodded. It was that or be killed. He had a gun and had already shot one man in front of us. Either Caroline or I was to be the next victim. I didn’t stop to think, I just acted.

Having accompanied you through that tunnel once, I can imagine what Rasmussen must have endured, Fitz mused. "That terrifying darkness, like the