~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 1

Stewart continued looking at the portrait of Nicholas St.James, the Fifth Earl of Campton and his wife, Sylvia. His thoughts were broken by a feminine voice, "Excuse me, but your tour group has gone on without you."
Stewart turned to look at the source of the words, blinked several times and spoke in a near whisper, "Sylvia?"
She laughed and said, "No, my name is Abigail. You look like you have seen a ghost."
Stewart turned to the portrait and then back to the young woman. She certainly looked a lot like Sylvia but her delightfully accented voice was not like Sylvia's at all.
"I see," she said smiling. "I do resemble her somewhat. She is my great-great-I'm-not-sure-how-many-greats-grandmother."
Stewart smiled at her. "My name is Stewart. You really do look like her although your hair is more auburn and your eyes are green," he said thoughtfully.
"You are very observant," said Abigail. "As I was saying your tour went on without you. You could join the next one when it passes through in a couple of hours or I could show you the way out."
"Were you part of the tour group?" asked Stewart. "I never noticed you."
"No, I wasn't," she said. "It is easy to get lost here, even in the public rooms, so it's usually best for people to stick with the groups."
"If I accept your offer to be my personal guide, will you accept an offer of a cup of tea from me?" asked Stewart.
Abigail hesitated to accept but had to admit she was curious about this man. She had never seen anyone else so drawn to that portrait; drawn as she herself was. Her interest was also piqued by his name. She did want to get to know more about him.
"At the teahouse in the village?" added Stewart.
"I would like that," said Abigail.
"Alright, then, let's go," said Stewart.
"Would you like to see the rest of the tour on our way out?" asked Abigail.
Stewart felt he had seen enough with the portrait and was more interested in talking with Abigail but wondered if it would seem odd if he declined the rest of the tour.
"I'm staying in the area for a month and can take the tour another day," he said. "Right now I feel more like having a bite to eat."
"To the teahouse it is then," said Abigail.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 2

On their way through to the exit, Abigail had pointed out various things about Campton Hall. Stewart found her comments much more interesting than the speech of the tour guide. Her comments were spoken with pride and love. But, of course, thought Stewart, this was her heritage, her personal family history.
"I take it you are a St. James then?" he asked.
"No," said Abigail. "My connection is through my mother then her mother and then her mother all the way back to Sylvia. I mean to the Fifth Earl and his wife."
"You think of her as Sylvia though," noted Stewart.
"Yes, I do," admitted Abigail. "I confess to what seems like a lifelong fascination with her, at least since I was six years old and my parents first brought me here to visit."
They had reached a parking area. "Do you want to walk to the village? Or do you have a rental car?" asked Abigail. "Or we could take my car. It's right here."
"Would you mind walking?" asked Stewart. "It's a lovely day and not much of a walk."
"Yes, it is a fine day," said Abigail. "Walking it is then."
"I have thought of renting a car," admitted Stewart. "But I'm not sure I'd be very good at driving here."
"Have you been here long?" asked Abigail.
"I arrived two days ago," said Stewart. "Until today I've been mainly sleeping; adjusting to the time difference."
"That can be difficult," said Abigail. "Where are you from?"
"Canada. Close to Toronto," answered Stewart.
"I'd like to visit there someday," said Abigail.
"Do you live around here or were you just visiting today?" asked Stewart.
"I live up at the Hall actually," said Abigail.
"They have apartments to let?" asked Stewart.
"No. Living quarters come with the job. I'm the curator," explained Abigail. "And, unofficially, the family historian."
"Sounds like the perfect job for you," said Stewart.
"I think so," agreed Abigail. "What do you do?"
"I'm a sleep and dream researcher," said Stewart. "I was quite obsessed with it until recently. I had several weeks of vacation owed to me and decided to finally take a trip."
"Did you choose this area for any special reason?" asked Abigail.
"Yes, but it's a long story," said Stewart.
"I'd love to hear it," said Abigail.
Stewart was glad they had arrived at the teahouse and he could avoid a response. "Here we are," he said, opening the door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 3

The next morning, eating breakfast in the cottage he was renting for his stay in England, Stewart thought about the previous day's events. He wasn't sure exactly why he had chosen to come here. He supposed he'd wanted reassurance that Sylvia was happy, or maybe it was closure he was seeking. Sylvia had been his closest friend for several years. There were times he had thought he wanted it to become more than friendship. He knew that Sylvia had never thought of them as anything but friends. He accepted now that friendship was all it ever was or could be.
He had spent the last couple of months, the time since Sylvia and Nick returned to the past, gathering and compiling data. He still wasn't sure why the dream enhancement chamber had worked as a time machine. After he had gotten all he could from it, he had dismantled the chamber and told his superiors that it had failed and that his original idea was not worth pursuing. He wished to try something different. He made sure no one knew what had happened or how to build his chamber. He did not want to risk someone pulling Sylvia back. He had tied up Sylvia's loose ends for her as she had asked. And now he was here in England where she had lived so long ago. On one level he accepted that going back was her choice to make. But on another, he just had to know that it worked out for her and that she had been happy. Which, he believed, was why he had come here.
Abigail was an interesting development. He had enjoyed the time they'd spent together. As they talked together, he began to really see the differences between her and Sylvia. He thought her as beautiful as he had Sylvia. She wasn't as tall as Sylvia and, of course, there was a big difference in their speech. Although Abigail seemed to have a great interest in her family history, especially it seemed with the period Sylvia was part of, Abigail did not seem as fascinated by the time period itself as Sylvia had been. Stewart found his attraction to Abigail to be a mixed blessing. He might be able to find out more about Sylvia from her than he could find any other way. But he was wary of seeming too interested in Sylvia. He doubted Abigail, or anyone, could stumble on the truth but couldn't risk it.
That brought up another area of concern. He was very attracted to Abigail. He knew he was considered something of a geek and had always been too busy with his work to worry about dating. So he hadn't dated much. Well, being honest with himself, hadn't dated at all. The closest he had come to dating was going to lunch or a movie with Sylvia a few times. Last New Year's Eve, they had seen the New Year in together at Sylvia's apartment and had kissed at midnight. It was a kiss given in friendship only. Losing his best friend, as that is how it felt when Sylvia left, had made him take stock of his life. He saw many things differently now. If Abigail was attracted to him as he was to her, and if the relationship developed into something more, how could he keep Sylvia's secret from her? Or should he keep it a secret in that case? He really didn't know. Perhaps he was getting too far ahead of himself. For now he would just think about today. Abigail was picking him up at eleven for a drive through the countryside and a picnic. Stewart smiled at that thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 4

Abigail was busy in the kitchen of her flat, making sandwiches to pack. Whatever possessed me to ask a complete stranger on a picnic? she thought to herself. This is so unlike me! She had been surprised the day before, while walking through the gallery, to see someone there alone, staring so intently at the portrait. She'd never known anyone other than herself to take an interest in that painting. She would have spoken to anyone she saw separated from their tour group in any case. His reaction to her startled her at first but then she found it intriguing. Was she being fanciful or was there something more to his interest in the painting?
She had enjoyed the time she spent with him. She liked the way he listened to her talk about the area. She liked the way he answered her questions about the area he was from. It didn't hurt that he had a handsome face to look upon while they talked. And such a cute dimple when he smiled. He wasn't tall but not short either which was just about perfect for her. She guessed he might be a year or two older than her own twenty-five years.
He had said that he used to be obsessed with his work. She could understand that. She had been accused of that same thing. But he claimed to have changed and she wondered why.
Not that any of these things truly mattered. He was just a visitor and she was just going to help him to see the area. In no time at all he would fly back across the ocean to his home. In the meantime she would enjoy his company. How long had it been since she had enjoyed the company of a man? It seemed to her a very long time, even longer if she really meant enjoyed. She had gotten herself through her schooling on scholarships. She had had to study long and hard to get the necessary grades. Her first job had been in London and she had occasionally dated while she lived there. Then, almost a year ago, this job had opened up and she knew she was meant to be here. It felt so right when she had read the ad. She knew she was rather young and inexperienced so she had, whether fairly or not, used her distant connection while applying. She had even shown the current Earl her locket which she knew went back to the Fifth Earl's wife. It had been handed down, mother to daughter, through the generations. That had sealed the job for her. The Earl had taken her to an attic storage room where many paintings were stored. Over the years, as new heirs took over possession of the Hall, some pictures would be relegated there to make room for new pictures. She was shown some other portraits of Sylvia. The Earl had wanted to show her one in which Sylvia was wearing the locket. Abigail loved that one but the picture that really intrigued her was a small one. Sylvia was lying in a clearing, her long brown hair and white nightgown flying in the breeze.
The men she dated had all been quite nice and a couple of them, being objective, were quite attractive. But none had excited her in any way nor held her interest enough to go beyond two dates. Perhaps she had been naive to expect there would be more than casual feelings by the end of a second date. She didn't want to have someone think there was more on her part than there was, so she had never accepted a third date with anyone. She had been so deep in her research since moving to this job, she hadn't even noticed if there were any single men in the area. Now she had met a man that stirred something in her and he would be gone within a month. She would grabbed what time she could. She still wondered at his fascination with the portrait. She wondered if he spelt his name S-T-E-W-A-R-T or S-T-U-A-R-T. It seemed like more than a coincidence.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 5

Stewart and Abigail saw each other daily. On her days off, Abigail took Stewart on day trips to see attractions that were a bit further afield. Other days she showed him things closer at hand after work or, a couple of times, on her lunch. They had kept to their roles of tourist and guide. Now Stewart realized that he had only two weeks left until he was scheduled to fly back to Canada. He also realized his feelings for Abigail were something very special. Oh how he wished he was more experienced; wished he knew what to say. He certainly didn't want to jeopardize the relationship he did have with Abigail by saying the wrong thing. He hadn't seen any indication that she returned the feelings and he didn't want to do something that might cost him her company for these last days. He had never enjoyed being with anyone so much, not even Sylvia. Sylvia. He'd made this trip to find out more about how her life went and realized he hadn't asked Abigail any questions about her afterall. It wasn't that he had decided not to ask but rather that he didn't think of Sylvia much when he was with Abigail.
While Stewart was getting ready for a day's outing with Abigail wondering about her feelings toward him, Abigail was doing the same thing in her flat. Since Abigail had no experience with feeling this way toward any man, she was uncertain what to do as well. She, too, was aware of how little time they still had. She had never had so much fun with someone before. They filled every minute with activity. But, she thought with sudden insight, that was part of the problem too. Did they keep so busy to fill Stewart's visit or to avoid talking about themselves? She still didn't know how to spell his name or what his last name was. She still didn't know why he had been so taken with the portrait. Dare she ask more? Did it matter when he would be so far away so soon?
They met at the teahouse as usual to start their day. Over tea and scones Abigail outlined her plans for their day.
"Does that sound alright to you, Stewart?" she asked.
"Sounds wonderful," said Stewart. "I don't think I'd have seen a fraction of these places on my own. You've made this trip very special."
"Thank you," said Abigail. "I've had a lot of fun myself."
"Good," said Stewart. "You haven't said where we'd go for dinner tonight."
"Well," started Abigail, wondering about the bold plan she had made, "I thought we could drop by a market and pick up a few things and go to my flat. You must be tired of always eating out. I'd love to cook you something."
Stewart was a little surprised at the invitation but decided not to read too much into it. "Only if you let me help."
"Alright," said Abigail with a smile.
"I probably should warn you though my skills are mainly limited to throwing things in a microwave and chopping," said Stewart.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


On to theNext Page
Back toSylvia's Legacy Index
Back to My Writings - Index
Return to Home