"Surely you are not suggesting that I walk in the mud and the rain, my good man?"

"Uh, 'course not. I'll go -"

"And leave us here unprotected and defenseless?"

Angelique was grateful that the dark interior hid her smile at the thought of the Countess believing herself defenseless with that sharp tongue. "I will walk to Collinwood, my lady, and fetch help."

"Are you sure you should?" She could see that the Countess still had doubts about her recovery.

"Quite sure, my lady." The driver helped her out onto a gra.s.sy verge.

"There's a path just up the road," he told her. "It will take you right to Collinwood. No way you can miss it."

"Thank you."

"Hurry, Angelique," the Countess called. "Do not dawdle. If I stay out here in this damp much longer I will be quite ill."

"I am on my way," she called back, setting out. She never felt the rain on her cloak, so happy was she to at last be here. When she saw the house - it was just as Barnabas had described it - she ran to the front door and lifted the heavy bra.s.s knocker, rapping three times. Would he answer the door? Would he be surprised to see her? Would he be glad to see her?

The door opened, and there he was. He was glad to see her, but the look was just as quickly hidden. Angelique understood the need to be discreet. She could wait until he came to her room later. "Barnabas."

"Angelique. What - ?"

"You are surprised."

"Astonished." He recovered his composure. "We weren't expecting the Countess for at least a week. Where is she? And - why are you walking?"

"Your roads, m'sieu. Pig sties, the Countess calls them. The carriage is in the mud. Stuck."

"Where?"

"Too far for my lady to walk."

"I must go immediately. Come in. You must be wet." She entered the house and saw the older man in the drawing room. Stern faced, very proper, she decided. "Father, this is Angelique - the Countess du Pres' maid. This is my father, Angelique."

She curtseyed. "M'sieu Collins." She could tell from the look on his face that he already dismissed her as an ordinary servant.

"Your mistress wrote and told us she would be visiting New York until the day before the wedding," Joshua Collins said.

"The city does not suit my lady."

"Well, I wish we had known she had changed her plans. Barnabas, fetch one of29.

the stable boys - or Ben. I will see that the rooms are made ready."

"Will you see that Angelique is shown to her room?"

She was not going to let him be rid of her company just yet. "No. I will return with you."

Barnabas looked down at her. "It isn't necessary."

"It may not be to you, sir, but it is to my mistress."

She saw the flash of anger in his hazel eyes, quickly banked. "Then very well. Come the back way to the stables."

She curtsied again to Joshua Collins. "It is a great privilege to be in your home at last, M'sieu." Turning, she followed Barnabas to the stable, a secret smile on her face.

He ignored her until the stableboy was on his way to the carriage, then walked beside her down the sodden path, his eyes searching ahead of them. "I did not expect you to accompany the Countess."

"I wanted to come," she said simply.

"I wish you hadn't." Nothing more was said.30.

Chapter 4

Collinwood, 1971.

Barnabas stood aloof from Julia and Stokes as they wondered aloud where everyone was. He said the right words, but the only thing on his mind, the only thing he could see, was Angelique's face.

"Barnabas. Julia." Elizabeth's tone was mildly scolding. "Really. The three of you are impossible. You're very late." "Late for what?" Julia asked. "Have you forgotten? The opening of the Historical Center. I wouldn't have come back, but Roger forgot his speech. Now hurry. Eliot, I know that Barnabas and Julia are always preoccupied, but it's not like you to forget something you've been planning so long."

Eliot managed to look apologetic. "I'm sorry, but it slipped my mind."

Julia asked the question that was uppermost in her mind. "Are David and Hallie there, Elizabeth?"

"Yes. Of course," she responded, searching the desk for the forgotten speech.

Barnabas' mind was readjusting itself slowly to 1971. "And Quentin and Carolyn?" "Where else would they be?" "Where indeed?"

"Here it is. So like Roger. He hates making speeches. Why are you all staring at me so strangely?"

Julia smiled. "It's just so nice to see you, Elizabeth."

"Thank you. It's really been a warm and cozy winter, hasn't it? So calm and peaceful. I've quite enjoyed it. Shall we go? You can drive in with me."

"We'd be delighted," Stokes a.s.sured her, moving with her into the foyer as she told him about finding a journal that she intended to donate to the Historical Society that evening.

"It was written by an ancestor of mine named Flora Collins. I don't believe I've heard her mentioned. I understand she's

written many novels. We must find them and read them."

Tongue in cheek, Stokes said, "That should prove most interesting." He followed her out the door.

Barnabas looked in that direction, not really seeing anything. "So the ghosts of Gerard and Daphne never came here."

"We changed all their lives by being in 1840."

"As well as ours. Think, Julia. Think back to 1840. The stairway is probably no more. Desmond has likely destroyed them by now."

"We'll never forget - any of them, Barnabas," she said gently, knowing where his thoughts were.

"Never," he agreed. They left to join Elizabeth.