Page 87 of No Place in Time

“Cecily.” It was Finn’s voice.

She dashed across the room and unlocked the door. He took one look at her face and stepped inside quickly, closing the door behind him.

“What happened?”

“Benedict. He saw me. In the market.”

Finn went very still. “Did he recognize you?”

“Yes.” Her words tumbled out. “He thought I was her at first. The other Cecily—the other me. But then he realized I wasn’t. I think he figured it out, Finn. About the machine. About two versions of me.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. He was pleasant. But too pleasant. He was trying to find out where I was staying. He kept asking which inn, where could he find me.” She gripped his arm. “He’s going to tell Julian. They’ll come looking for us.”

Finn’s jaw tightened. “Then we leave. Now.”

“Where will we go?”

“I don’t know yet. But we can’t stay here.” He moved to their few belongings and started packing. “I found answers at the monastery today. About what happened after I disappeared. But we need to get moving first.” He looked at her. “Then I’ll tell you everything.”

She nodded. He’d learned something important. She could see it in his face.

“One thing is clear. We can’t wait any longer,” he said. “We have to get the machine. We have to act.”

They gathered their things quickly. Finn went downstairs first, checking the common room. When he came back, he nodded. “It’s clear. Come.”

They left by the back way, avoiding the main street. The sun was setting. Shadows lengthened in the alleys. No one stopped them.

But as they left Faversham behind, walking toward the darkening forest, Cecily couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere behind them, Benedict was watching.

43

FINN

1301

As they walked east, away from Faversham, Finn broke off a piece of the bread Cecily had purchased. He chewed for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “The monastery in Graston,” he began, “I found the family records. Birth, death, inheritance… the monks keep everything.”

“And?”

“After you and I disappeared in 1239, my father kept searching for a wife. He’d chosen someone else, another young noblewoman from York.”

He looked at Cecily. She said nothing, but her hand found his.

“He wanted another heir to secure the succession. He had my younger brother, but he wanted another.” Finn’s throat constricted. “The banns were recorded, but the wedding never occurred because he fell ill the next year. The records say he died in 1241.”

“What?” said Cecily. “So soon after we left?”

“Yes. My brother Geoffrey inherited the estate and barony instead of me. He was only ten years old at the time. A steward ran the estate until he came of age.”

They walked in silence for a moment. A cart passed them going in the other direction, the driver nodding as he went by. They kept their heads lowered as it passed.

“Geoffrey had children,” Finn continued. “His line continued. Eventually, one of his descendants became baron.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Julian.”

Cecily’s eyes widened. “Julian is descended from your brother?”

“From the brother who should never have inherited Veyron Hall. If I’d stayed in 1239—if I’d been there when my father died—I would have become baron. Geoffrey would have remained the younger son. And Julian’s line would never have held Veyron. Perhaps he would never have been born.”