TRAPPED INSIDE

Everything felt strange to Amelia but she decided to shake off the feeling. How possibly can a couple be living alone in this Manor?

" This way, if you please. " Noah led her to a corner door, beyond which a staircase led to the upper rooms. " My wife and I live in the apartment behind the Manor. We've a daughter but she is not always around. We have been taking care of this Manor for years. " He explained to her as she followed him. A thick plum-colored carpet softened their steps, and white-painted walls were hung with foxhunting prints. It was very quaint and 'archaic', as was the manor which was to be her for the next fortnight. The pretty floral chintz furnishings, polished brass and copper, low beams, and alcoves were just one wanted of England, but all the modern comforts were provided to. The kitchen was well equipped, and the refrigerator was filled with different kinds of foods.

Noah showed her some other places in the house before they went to the main bedroom.

He put all her luggage in the main bedroom. " I hope you like the house, miss, I mean Amelia. " 

Amelia chuckled. " It's okay. I love it. To be honest, I feel quite at home." Well, certainly as if I've been here before, anyway! But she didn't say it.

" It's good to have you here, miss. " The old man grinned.

" It's good to be here. " Amelia returned.

The man was about to leave but stopped as if remembering something." I must warn you not to go close to the lake. " 

Something strange happened again then. She suddenly felt she knew all about it, and yet it was the first time she'd heard of it.

 " Have you heard the story of Lady Barnard, she was the first wife of Sir Barnard? " He asked.

Amelia nodded. She'd read the story about Katherine, Lady Barnard. She was the first wife of Duke Dane Barnard who committed suicide on her wedding night. History books made it known that Sir Dane never loved Katherine and she forced herself on him knowing his true feelings. She was a selfish woman who deserved everything that happened to her.

" I know what you must be thinking but never judge someone based on the words of another. " He said. 

How did he know what she was thinking? Amelia was suddenly less sure of things. Could history be wrong? 

Noah went on. " Lady Barnard drowned in the lake. Just don't go near it. I'll leave you then. Now don't forget, if there's anything you want, I'll help you or my wife will. "

She'd remembered the cause of Katherine's death. She knew she couldn't swim so committed suicide by drowning herself in the lake. Was he possibly telling her not to go near the lake because of the rumours? Although she was a New Yorker, Amelia loved reading stories of British history and Lady Katherine's story was part of those she'd read. Rumours say that her spirit was still lingering in the lake where she died.

Amelia gulped and replied. " Thank you, Noah. "

His words still lingered in her thoughts. When he'd gone, she opened all the windows to let the scent of roses flood in. There was no great city roar, no automobile horns blaring, no distant sirens, just the sound of the wind blowing. It was a world away from New York. She looked at the lake, then turned to unpack her luggages. She felt relaxed already- in fact, she almost felt at home.

At home? She thought again how familiar everything seemed, then sighed.

After taking a shower and selecting something from the refrigerator to eat, she switched on her laptop and settled back to watch The Vampire Diaries season 3.

She was exhausted already and dozed off at episode four. After such a hectic day, she expected to sleep like a log until morning, but something woke her just before midnight. She lay there in the darkness wondering what had disturbed her. The night was unexpectedly humid and uncomfortable, not what she'd expected of England. Maybe she should have closed the window before getting in bed.

She got up to close it. Cooler air swept refreshingly over naked skin, and the night perfume of the roses in the courtyard was almost intoxicating. The moonlight shown through the window reflecting the view of the lake.

Her gaze darted to two figures walking past the courtyard and she recognized them to be Alicia and Noah. They were talking about something, and she was watching them approach a small apartment when they suddenly disappeared.

Disappeared? She stared blankly. One moment they'd been there, the next they'd simply vanished. But then, so had most of the roses she'd seen so clearly only seconds before. Everything was in virtual darkness, even the lake. What had happened? 

Instinctively she turned to check her laptop, but it wasn't there; instead, there was a lighted candle on a table. The little flame swayed gently, illuminating a room that wasn't there either. At least, a room shouldn't be there, but was. The bed she'd just gotten out of had changed into an ancient but good-quality four-poster that almost touched the low ceiling. There was no laptop, phone, her luggages, not even a carpet, nothing modern at all, just the bed, two chairs, a table, and a dusty old fireplace.

It was an exquisite room, for someone in a high rank.

Her mouth ran dry. She was looking into the past, at the cottage as it had been at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Oh, no. She was freaking out. Oh, God, first all the deja vu, now she was hallucinating! She choked back a cry, closed her eyes, and turned toward the window again. This wasn't happening. It's all impossible. This is nothing but an illusion. She counted to ten, pinched herself, and then looked again.

But when she'd done that, and hesitantly opened her eyes once one more, she found herself staring at her jewelled reflection in the window glass. Jewelled reflection? She gasped, for a glittering comb sparkled in her carefully golden curls. She didn't have a comb like that or long golden hair worn up in a style that reminded of ancient Rome, was dressed in a high-waisted emerald silk gown in a style that had been all the rage in the nineteenth century. English regency! Yes, that was it. Was she dreaming of one of the characters in the historical romance books she used to read? 

She gazed incredulously. Everything about her had changed. Or was someone standing behind her? It could be the reflection of someone standing behind her, so she glanced sharply over her shoulder, but there was no one there. Maybe it was a trick of the like. Yes, that could be it. Because she was about to go crazy. But when she looked at the reflection again, she knew it was no mirage. What she was seeing was really there.

Her lips parted, and her heart stopped. There was no doubt about it, she and the woman in the glass were one and the same.

Amelia could still see her hazel eyes behind those of the green-eyed appealingly beautiful stranger, as if she was trapped inside. A terrified numbness settled over her. She was two people at once. But that was impossible, there had to be a logical explanation behind all this. She was dreaming! Yes, that was it, she'd never really awoken and left the bed. The disappearance of Alicia and Noah was also a dream. But as she continued to look at the glass, her own eyes faded and there were only those of her new self- wide, clear, and expressive.

Was this real? She raised her hand to touch her face and felt it. She suddenly knew the identity of this new self! Her name was Katherine, Duchess Barnard. More than that, she was married to Duke Dane Barnard, one of Regency England's most feared gentlemen, and she'd gone back in time to perhaps the 1800s or something?

But Sir Dane never loved Katherine for he already had a woman in his heart. He despised Katherine for she was the reason why he wasn't with the woman he loved. The woman he loved was from a rank lower than Katherine's so he had no choice but to make Katherine his bride-to-be. It was nothing but an arranged marriage. 

History revealed that their marriage was an arranged match, pure and simple, he should never have gone through it for he felt nothing for her. The real Katherine was deeply and irrevocably in love with Dane Barnard but he certainly did not feel the same. To him she would never be anything more than his wife that he took to oblige his father's long-standing friendship with her father. She was a property he never wanted. A self-centred and mendacious woman, she was nothing like the woman he would always love. 

Katherine committed suicide on her wedding night, at least that was what everyone thought even her but what she couldn't understand was how could all this happen to a modern New Yorker?

To be continued...