Eternal Time Shadows Box Set 1 / Volumes 1-10 Page 2

  I smiled, looking it over. “The Moirai. The fates.”

  Robert nodded. “My father had this made when he built the house. Said it was fate which brought my mother to him.” His eyes came down to me. “Just like it was fate which brought you to me.”

  My blush deepened, and I looked down. “It was just Professor Cooper. She knew how much I loved history and of course my work with the Society. She knew I’d be the right one to talk with you about the collection.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s more than that. I know you, somehow.”

  His hand reached forward, and then paused mid-air.

  His voice was low, almost hesitant. “Take off your mask.”

  I had no idea why I was blushing so strongly. It was just a porcelain mask. And yet, somehow, removing it in front of Robert would be like baring my soul to him.

  He looked at me as if he were balancing on the edge of a knife.

  I reached my hand toward the ribbon which held it in place –

  A rock came whizzing at me from the hedge maze, clipping the side of my arm. My hand flew to hold the spot, and I could feel wetness where the rock had drawn blood.

  Robert spun, fury blazing in his eyes. “What the Hell? Who threw that?” He strode toward the darkness.

  There was a noise behind me.

  The sound of something swinging – hard – toward the back of my head.

  Slam.

  *

  I groggily got to my feet. The row of open doors was before me, and I moved toward them, toward the whirling dancers within. The candelabras twinkled high overhead, the elegant gold-framed paintings decorated the walls, and the musicians played with heart-breaking beauty. Masked faces laughed and smiled.

  Where was Mary? Where was Robert?

  The throbbing in my head intensified, and nausea twisted at my stomach. If I only had –

  The thought of my first-aid kit, in the trunk of my car, sprang to mind. I knew there was aspirin in there. If I could just take two of those, maybe I could start to think straight. Find Mary. Track down Robert. Find out what was going on.

  I pushed my way through the throng, out to the foyer with its pair of black-masked servants. I stepped through the magnificent mahogany doors –

  And stopped.

  Gone was the crushed gravel circular driveway and the long slope dusted with snow. Gone were the rows of Porsches, Lamborghinis, and Cadillacs.

  Instead, before me was a serene canal with tall stone buildings lining both sides. An elegant stone dock sat before me, lit by flickering torches. Gondolas drifted silently beneath the full moon, each carrying a lantern for light.

  My eyes raised to the row of buildings facing me. Candles flickered in several of the windows. There was not one sign of electric light.

  I turned in place, staring back in at the whirling party within. I looked more closely at the costumes, at the décor, and at the musicians.

  Sixteen-hundreds.

  I shook my head, unable to take it in.

  My eyes drew up – across – and there he was, standing by the window at the far side of the room. The same dark hair, the same well-built frame, the same deep, tawny eyes.

  It was Robert.

  And we were in Renaissance Venice.

  2 – Venice Destiny

  I stared in shock across the elegant ballroom. In so many ways it was exactly the same as the one I had walked into earlier this evening, in snowy, twenty-first-century Massachusetts. The same high ceilings. The same breathtaking works of art on the walls, shimmering within golden frames. The same elegant music from world-class musicians in a corner.

  And yet in other ways the scene was wholly different. There were no electric lights to be seen. Instead, ivory candles shimmered from sconces on the walls, in chandeliers up above, and from clusters of pillars on tables and ledges. The women’s dresses were not Michael Kors or Donatella Versace. Instead, they were one-of-a-kind hand-crafted creations from the finest seamstresses in Venice.

  I looked down at my own dress.

  Gone was the simple black-goes-with everything Macy’s outfit I had started the evening with. Instead it was …

  I brought my hand to my mouth in surprise. It was still a long, black dress, but now it had a far different significance. The white collar, the drape of white fabric which fell on either side of my face, alongside my full-face mask …

  I was a nun.

  A jolt of panic shot through me, and I put a hand to my hair. No, wait, my hair was still long, and the head covering was white, not black. My mind scoured the research I had done on Renaissance Italy for a paper last fall. I was not a vowed nun. Not yet, at least. I was still in my postulancy, or testing period.

  A woman’s voice sounded in my ear. It was no-nonsense but still with a touch of warmth. “All right, girl. Time to get on with it.”

  I turned to look up in confusion. “Professor Cooper?”

  It was her voice and face, but her steel-grey hair was hidden behind a full nun’s habit. Her head-covering was black, and the simple eye-mask she wore was plain black as well.

  She gave a wry laugh. “You tease, girl, but I accept the compliment. Mother Cooper will do just fine.”

  I struggled to connect the pieces together. “But what are we doing here?”

  She sighed. “You need to learn to hold it together, girl. Or you’ll never make it through this complex world we inhabit.” Her voice took on the tone of a teacher providing a lesson for the twentieth time. “We are here to represent our nunnery for the feast of Saint Valentine. We are to offer abject thanks to the Argento family for their continued support of our efforts.”

  Her eyes took on a twinkle. “And you, my lass, are going to determine if you really wish to follow your stepmother’s orders to join our community.”

  I blinked in surprise. “What?”

  Her lips pressed together. “A woman forced into a nunnery does not flourish. She withers. We do not wish this, either for the girl or for our order. Each person has a part to play in this world. Some by contemplation, some on a religious path – and others by embracing another way.”

  Her eyebrow arched. “Which shall it be for you?”

  I thought of my stepmother. My father had met her at a conference six years ago – and from that moment he had been smitten. They’d married within half a year. Since then I’d practically raised myself. They were always off on some trip or another. I was fortunate if I even knew which country they were in.

  I looked down at the clothing I wore. Would she really have pushed me into a nunnery?

  I thought of how eager she was to get me off to college. Of how much she had made of me staying in the dorms over holidays and vacations in order to fully absorb the college experience. Maybe shunting me off to a nunnery wasn’t that far off.

  Cooper looked up – and smiled. “Ah, here he is. The birthday boy himself.”

  I turned in shock.

  Robert.

  He was all I remembered from the party. Tall. Thick, dark hair. A tawny gaze from that ebony eye-mask. One which soaked into my soul …

  He drew his eyes from me with effort, turning to the nun at my side. He bowed to her, taking her hand and pressing a formal kiss to it. “Mother Cooper. You are always welcome in our home. I know my parents appreciate greatly how well you took care of my grandmother, in her final months.”

  “It was our joy to care for her,” responded Cooper with a gentle smile. “She had lived a full life and had many stories to share.”

  Robert chuckled. “I can imagine she did.”

  Then he turned to me.

  There was something in his eyes. Something in the depths of his gaze which called to me. When his hand took mine, and those lips brushed against my skin, I could barely hold my feet. My stomach fluttered and danced.

  Cooper gave a low chuckle. “Let me introduce you to our newest postulate. This is Elizabeth Luciani.”

  He blinked in surprise. “Luciani, as in a member of the Luciani fa
mily?”

  Cooper’s grin grew. “That would be how it normally works.”

  He shook his head in confusion. “But the daughter is never brought out in public. Her horrible disfigurements had her kept –”

  His gaze went to the smooth porcelain mask which sheltered my face, and his cheeks flared in embarrassment. I could understand his confusion. The mask was designed to look like a golden eye-mask over pale skin. Especially in the flickering shadows, he could easily have mistaken it for a look at my true visage below.

  Was it true? Was my face a mass of scars or twisting flesh, one which had kept me far from all others? Was that why my stepmother had tucked me away in the safety of a religious order? Was it for my own good?

  Cooper folded her hands serenely before her. “My child, show him your face. With all the money his family puts toward our care, he deserves to know what that money goes to.”

  Fear clenched at my heart, but I nodded. I trusted Cooper, and I would do as she bid.

  I shakily raised my hands to the ribbons at the side of my cheeks. For some reason it mattered immensely to me what Robert thought of me. Would he shun me as a leper? Step back, disgust in his eyes, and be forever lost to me?

  I released the ribbon and lowered the mask.

  His eyes widened in shock.

  I dropped my gaze, my eyes welling with tears. “I’m so sorry, I’ll put it back on so –”

  His fingers gently caught beneath my chin, and he raised my eyes to meet his.

  His gaze shone in the candlelight. “You are beautiful, Elizabeth. Not the made-up, painted gaudiness of the nobles who come and go like gilded dolls. But a wholesome, honest, classical beauty which touches the soul. And you should never be ashamed of it.”

  He drew his eyes to Cooper. “But why would her parents …”

  His voice trailed away, and his gaze hardened. Then he asked, “Is her father still trying for a new heir?”

  Cooper nodded, her gaze steady. “Indeed. They have reserved an entire bank of candles to focus on prayers for a son. Their instructions for Elizabeth include three hours a day focused on that quest.”

  Robert’s eyes grew sharp. “To toss away the old child, to make room for a new one. It is one thing to see it enacted in a theater. It is another to see its raw results before you.”

  His eyes went to my white head-covering, and an ease came to his shoulders. “And yet you are not yet committed to that task.”

  Cooper’s lips lifted. “No, not yet.”

  Robert took my mask from my hand and gently tied it back in place. His hand lingered on my cheek for a moment, and the warmth of his fingers coursed through me, breathing life into me.

  His voice was warm, reaching into my soul. “In that case, my dear Elizabeth, would you honor me with a dance?”

  Our feet matched each other swirling around the floor, his fingers gently pressing into my back, and I was swept away. It was not Destiny by Sydney Baynes. It couldn’t be – Baynes would not be born until 1879. But the beauty of the piece caught at me.

  Robert’s voice was low, and yet I could hear every word as if he were whispering in my ear. “There is something about you, Elizabeth. Something I have never seen in any other woman.”

  I blushed. “I am hardly special, Robert.”

  He chuckled. “That modesty, for example. Most other women here would have launched into a summary of all their best talents. How skilled they were in painting. How wonderful they were with lute or harpsichord. And yet you …” He shook his head. “Surely you do have an interest or two.”

  “I love history,” I admitted. “The Middle Ages, the Roman period, the Renaissance …”

  I bit my lip. The Renaissance, indeed. I was here, in the middle of it. The thought stunned me.

  His brow creased. “The Renaissance? I have not heard of that period. When is it?”

  I blinked. Of course. The period hadn’t been branded with that title until centuries later, when others had looked back at the sea-change which had occurred.

  “I … I suppose I meant this current time,” I stumbled. “It’s a rebirth, isn’t it? Look at the beauty of art around us. Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper. Works that take your breath away.”

  “You are indeed a wonder,” he murmured. “All that Anna and Sofia talk about are their own paintings of dogs, or flowers …or flowers with dogs…”

  My brow creased. “Who?”

  A pair of dresses appeared before us, and we drew to a stop.

  It was them.

  They were no longer bottle-blondes. Anna’s auburn hair was drawn up to create decorative twin peaks on top of her head. Her rose-colored dress had a high waist, with her cleavage prominently displayed. The barest hint of lace decorated the edges of it.

  Sofia’s hair glowed bright red, and her dress was sea-green. The same high waist, the same wealth of cleavage trimmed with lace.

  Both women were glaring daggers at me.

  Anna spoke first. “I thought I felt a chill of religious fervor dampening the bright spirits of the evening.” Her eyes went to Robert. “You poor thing, Robert. It’s bad enough your parents make us have to host a pair of the sisters here for the evening, but now you have to dance with one of them? And a disfigured one at that?”

  Sofia chimed in. “You’ve done more than your duty, Robert. Now, let the poor girl go sit down. She’s probably not used to this kind of exertion and needs a rest. Then I can catch you up on all the latest gossip I’ve heard from Lady Roslindale.”

  Robert’s hand twined into mine, and he opened his mouth –

  A slim, blonde girl with hair neatly caught up into a curled braid slipped between us. Her dress was the sunny yellow of a buttercup. “Anna! Sofia! Lady Argento was looking for you. She said something about planning out a special surprise for Robert.”

  Both women’s eyes lit up in delight, and they turned as one, moving off into the depths of the throng.

  I stared at the petite woman in shock. “Mary?”

  She blushed. “Robert told you about me?”

  I shook my head.

  Robert smiled fondly. “Elizabeth, this is Mary. She’s always been a good friend of mine. Helps run interference when the leeches come on a bit too thick.”

  She grinned. “I’m always glad to help! You looked like you were enjoying yourself with Elizabeth. Which undoubtedly is why those two hussies dove in to break things up.”

  He ran his thumb along my fingers, and the sensation sent shimmers throughout me. He murmured, “We were just talking of our love of history and art.”

  Mary giggled. “God, she is just right for you, then, Robert. You must be down to St. Mark’s Basilica twice a week, to stare at its architecture and draw out your own versions.”

  I sighed. “I have always dreamed of seeing St. Mark’s Basilica.”

  He rounded on me in shock. “What? You mean you’ve never seen it, even once?”

  I paled, drawing in a breath. We were in Venice. I had apparently spent my entire life here. How could I possibly explain how I had not –

  His face shifted from pale to crimson, and his gaze hardened in anger. “Those parents of yours should be taken to task with how they’ve treated you,” he growled. “Locking you away like an animal. Shunting you away, when there is still so much of the world to see.”

  His mouth firmed with resolve. “Come on. We’re going there.”

  My voice squeaked out of me. “What, now?”

  “Yes, absolutely now,” he agreed, drawing me by my hand toward the foyer. “Who knows what that stepmother of yours has planned. Maybe she’ll order you sent away to some remote outpost in the middle of the Alps, where you’ll be snowbound nine months out of the year and unable to escape the mud the other three. This could be your one chance to see what Venice has to offer. What the world has to offer.”

  A part of me felt terror at leaving the safety of this building. It was the one thing I knew. The one, solid link to a past
… or was it a future … that I had somehow been wrenched from.

  Then I looked into his eyes.

  A wave of sturdiness … of loyalty … washed through me. I knew I could trust him. Wherever we went, whatever we faced, as long as we were together, it would all work out.

  I nodded and smiled. “All right, then.”

  He waved a hand, and a gondola eased into its place alongside the elegant stone dock. A lantern hung at the curved prow, sending a golden light shimmering across us both.

  Robert reached to my face and gently removed my mask. “We won’t be needing that any more.”

  I squeaked. That mask was the one thing which had come unchanged through whatever time portal I had crossed. Somehow it seemed that keeping it with me was my path back to where I had come from.

  He smiled and handed it to me. “You can keep it with you, if you wish.” He removed his own mask and set it in his pocket.

  He took my hand and helped me down into my velvet seat at the back of the gondola. Then he climbed in, taking the seat at my side. A push of a pole and we were silently gliding into the depths of Venice.

  It was beyond beautiful.

  I had read so much about it. Seen the videos, watched the movies, and yet to be here took my breath away. The architecture of the buildings was stunning. It came to me that in many cases I was seeing it fresh and new, as it had been when it was first built, rather than centuries later. And yet even now, in the sixteen hundreds, so much of Venice was classic. The Rialto Bridge had been finished in 1591. The Doge’s Palace dated back to the 1300s, although waves of fires in the subsequent years meant the building had been continually re-invented.

  I turned to Robert. “Mary said you enjoyed drawing the architecture of St. Mark’s. Do you want to be an architect?”

  A tint came to his face. “I know, it’s a menial aim –”

  I shook my head in surprise. “Not at all! It’s architecture which lasts the ages. Which inspires us and shelters us at the same time. These works around us – the Doge’s Palace, St. Mark’s Basilica – these are the things which will be lauded and appreciated in the centuries to come. Not who wore what dress or who held which position in the government.”