Time Will Tell [Complete]

Chapter One

LONDON, ENGLAND, 1842

ELIZABETH MASON moved down the crowded street, hood pulled down over her face. She hugged a dark brown, well-worn leather satchel close to her body, shoulders hunched, hurrying past rickety wooden stands.

The smell was vile. As she neared her make-shift home, the houses grew closer together, and, not for the first time, she regretted trading small-town Wells, Wales for London, England – although it was less likely she'd get caught here, among the crowds of people.

Seventeen-year-old Elizabeth passed yet another vendor, this one advertising 'fresh' herbs that could cure any disease. She raised an eyebrow and trotted a little faster.

She found her alley and, with a quick glance around, ducked in between the run-down brick buildings. Shielding the parcel from peering eyes with her body, she opened it quietly and peered inside, sighing in relief a moment later when she saw that the contents were still intact. She closed it and slung it over her shoulder as she prepared to crawl into a windowpane-less hole that led to the cellar of an abandoned home. She climbed through and landed with a soft thump.

Suddenly she stiffened. Something wasn't right. She could hear labored breathing, quickly quietened, but still audible if you knew what you were listening for.

"Who is it?" she called out, her British voice quivering. "I can still hear you."

A shadow moved from behind an old piece of furniture and slowly edged forward until it stood just on the edge of the light. When it straightened, Elizabeth realized she knew this person. She squared her shoulders, and a thick shield of defiance seemed to settle around her.

"Sir, my housekeeper is supposed to announce you." She said. Her tone was playful, but her eyes were hard.

"Well – can I hazard a guess she's on vacation?"

"You could, but that's really quite far from the real explanation."

The twenty-two-year-old laughed, but a bitter note came through the merry noise. "What name do you go by now – oh, I remember. Elizabeth Mason, I see you've not changed a bit."

She cocked her head. "That's Miss Mason to you."

"All right, then. Miss Mason, do you have the item?"

"What do you mean? I don't..."

"I'm gonna' stop you right there." A hint of a sneer was in his voice. "Do I look like a fool? Don't play daft with me, Lizzy. Remember T-"

"I no longer work for you, Monsieur. You don't have anything over me, and he is in my past, which I've let go. We Germans don't scare too easily."

"You've been raised by stubborn mules, you mean."

Elizabeth paused, then glared. "I have nothing of yours, now if you please, I would be overjoyed if you would leave my home." She stepped back and gestured with her right arm towards the window-hole. "Goodbye, Sir. Auf wiedersehen."

He stepped forward, mid-day light barely making it through the window and onto his handsome face. He smiled persuasively. "You sure?" his French accent was barely there.

"I see you've adapted to life in Ireland quite well. Do you still deny your lineage to..."

"Don't say his name," the man interrupted, snarling. "Or you'll regret it."

Lizzy smiled. Finally, she had found a hole in his carefully crafted shell. "What a pity we were separated at birth. I got a kind, fat godmother in a mountain chalet, and you got a picky pastry chef with an ugly mustache who made you wash his dishes. Fair trade, I think, seeing how you turned out. How do you feel, brother, about ruining the lives of thousands? I'm sure that he is very proud of you. Oh, yes, indeed."