“We’ll see,” I said. “Anyway, he knows his way around the eighteenth century. After all, it’s where he comes from.”
Gordon Gelderman caught up with us on the steps. “You were talking to that niche in the wall again, Gwyneth. I saw you.”
“Yes, it’s my favorite bit of wall, Gordon. I’d hurt its feelings if I didn’t stop and talk to it.”
“You do know you’re weird, right?”
“Yes, Gordon dear, I know. But at least my voice isn’t breaking.”
“That’s a passing phase,” said Gordon. “It will go away.”
“It would be nice if you went away,” said Lesley.
“I suppose you two want to talk again,” said Gordon. He was always hard to shake off. “I can understand that. After all, you’ve only had your heads together for five hours today. See you at the cinema later?”
“No,” said Lesley.
“I can’t anyway, come to think of it,” said Gordon, as he followed us through the front hall like a shadow. “I have to write that stupid essay about signet rings. Did I ever tell you I can’t stand Mr. Whitman?”
“Yes, but only a hundred times so far,” said Lesley.
I saw the limousine waiting outside the school gate even before we came out of the building. My heart began beating a little faster. I still felt terribly embarrassed about yesterday evening.
“Wow! Look at that car, will you?” Gordon whistled softly through his teeth. “Maybe the rumors are true and Madonna’s daughter really is at this school—incognito, of course.”
“Of course,” said Lesley, blinking at the bright sunlight. “That’s why they send a limousine to fetch her. So no one will notice that she’s incognito.”
Several of the students were gaping at the limousine. Cynthia and her friend Sarah were standing on the steps as well, eyes popping out of their heads. But not at the sight of the limousine—at something farther to the right of it.
“And I thought that twit wouldn’t have anything to do with boys,” said Sarah. “Not even hot guys like that.”
“Could be he’s her cousin,” said Cynthia. “Or her brother.”
My hand was clutching Lesley’s arm tightly. Sure enough, there stood Gideon in our school yard, very casual in jeans and a T-shirt. And he was talking to Charlotte.
Lesley identified him at once. “And I thought he had long hair,” she said accusingly.
“He does,” I said.
“Shoulder-length,” said Lesley. “That’s different. Very cool.”
“He’s gay. Bet you anything he’s gay,” said Gordon, leaning one arm on my shoulder so that he could see past Cynthia and me better.
“Oh, my God, he’s touching her!” said Cynthia. “He’s taking her hand!”
Charlotte’s smile was visible all the way to where we were standing. She didn’t often smile (apart from her infuriating know-it-all expression), but when she did, the look on her face was enchanting. She was even showing a dimple. Gideon was bound to notice it, and I was sure he was thinking that she was anything but an ordinary girl.
“He’s stroking her cheek!”
Oh, my God. He was, really. The pang I felt was something I couldn’t ignore. “And now he’s kissing her!”
We all held our breath. It really did look as if Gideon was going to kiss Charlotte.
“But only on the cheek,” said Cynthia, relieved. “So he’s her cousin, after all. Gwenny, please say he’s her cousin.”
“No,” I said. “They’re not related.”
“And he isn’t gay either,” said Lesley.
“Want to bet? I mean, look at that signet ring he’s wearing.”
Charlotte smiled radiantly at Gideon again and walked away with a spring in her step. Obviously her bad mood had gone away.
Gideon turned to us. I realized what a sight we were—four girls and Gordon, gaping and giggling on the steps outside school.
I know lots of girls like you.
Just as I might have expected. Oh, great!
“Gwyneth!” called Gideon. “Finally!”
Cynthia, Sarah, and Gordon collectively held their breath. To be honest, so did I. Only Lesley kept her cool. She gave me a little push. “Hurry up, will you? Your limousine is waiting.”
As I went down the steps, I could feel the others’ eyes on my back. Their mouths were probably open, too. Gordon’s was for sure.
“Hi,” I said when I had reached Gideon. It was all I could manage to say. In the sunlight his eyes were a brighter green than ever.
“Hi.” He was looking at me rather too closely. “Have you grown overnight?”
“No.” I tugged the jacket together over my breasts. “It’s my school uniform that’s shrunk.”
Gideon grinned. Then he looked over my shoulder. “Friends of yours up there? I think one of them’s about to faint.”
Oh, my God. “That’s Cynthia Dale,” I said, without turning around. “She suffers from high estrogen levels. I can introduce you if you’d like.”
Gideon’s smile grew wider. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that some other time. Now, come on. We have a lot still to do today.” He took my arm (a loud squeal could be heard from the steps) and guided me toward the limousine.
“I’m only going to do homework. In the year 1956.”
“There’s been a change of plan.” Gideon opened the car door for me. (A synchronized screech from the steps.) “We’re going to visit your great-great-grandmother. She specially asked for you to come along.” He put his hand on my back to get me into the car. (Another screech from the steps.)
I let myself fall into the back seat. There was a familiar, round face already in the car, waiting for me.
“Hello, Mr. George.”
“Gwyneth, my brave girl, how are you feeling today?” Mr. George was beaming as if in competition with his shiny bald patch.
Gideon sat down beside him.
“I’m … er, fine, thank you.” I went red, because I was thinking what a picture of misery I must have been yesterday evening. At least Gideon hadn’t made any cutting reference to that. He was acting as if nothing at all had happened.
“What was that about my great-great-grandmother?” I hurried to ask. “I didn’t really understand.”
“No, we didn’t entirely understand it ourselves,” said Gideon, sighing.
The limousine moved away. I resisted the temptation to look at my friends through the back window.
“Margaret Tilney, née Grand, was the grandmother of your grandmother Arista, and the last time traveler in the female line before Lucy and you. The Guardians were able to read her into the first, original chronograph without any problems after her second journey back in time. That was in 1894. For the rest of her life—she died in 1944—she elapsed regularly with the aid of the chronograph. The Annals describe her as very friendly and cooperative.” Mr. George nervously passed his hand over his bald patch. “During the bombing of London in the Second World War, a group of Guardians went out into the country with her and the chronograph. She died there of pneumonia at the age of sixty-seven.”
“How … how sad.” I didn’t understand exactly what I was supposed to make of this information.
“As you know, Gideon has already visited seven of the Circle of Twelve in the past and taken a little of their blood for the new chronograph. Six if we count the twins as one. So with your blood and his, only four of the Circle are still missing. Opal, Jade, Sapphire, and Black Tourmaline.”
“Elaine Burghley, Margaret Tilney, Lucy Montrose, and Paul de Villiers,” added Gideon.
“Those four have to be visited in the past and a little blood taken from each of them.” I’d grasped that idea by now; I wasn’t entirely clueless.
“Exactly. We didn’t think there could be any complications with Margaret.” Mr. George leaned back in his seat. “With the others, yes, but there was no reason to assume that there’d be any difficulty with Margaret Tilney. The course of her life was closely recorded by the Guardians. We know where she was on every single day of it. That’s why it was also easy to arrange a meeting between her and Gideon. He traveled back last night to the year 1937, to meet Margaret Tilney at our house in the Temple.”
“Last night? Really? For goodness’ sake, when did you get any sleep?”
“It was supposed to be a very quick visit,” said Gideon. He crossed his arms over his chest. “We’d planned only an hour for the whole operation.”
Mr. George said, “But contrary to our expectations, when Gideon had explained the reasons, Margaret refused to let him have any of her blood.” He looked expectantly at me. Was I supposed to say something?
“Maybe … er … maybe she just didn’t understand you,” I said. After all, it was a very intricate story.
“She understood me perfectly.” Gideon shook his head. “Because she already knew that the first chronograph had been stolen and that I’d be wanting some of her blood for the second one.”
“But how could she have guessed what wouldn’t happen until many years later? Could she see into the future?” No sooner had I asked than I knew the answer. Slowly, I was really getting the hang of this time travel business.
“Someone got in ahead of you and told her,” I said.
Gideon nodded appreciatively. “And persuaded her not to let any of her blood be taken, whatever happened. Even stranger was the fact that she refused to speak to me. She called the Guardians to help her and told them to keep me away from her.”
“But who can it have been?” I stopped for a moment to think about it. “I suppose it can only have been Lucy and Paul. They can travel in time, they want to keep the Circle from closing.”
Mr. George and Gideon exchanged a glance.
“When Gideon came back, we faced a real puzzle,” said Mr. George. “We did have a vague idea of what might have happened, but no proof. So Gideon traveled back into the past again this morning for another visit to Margaret Tilney.”
“You’ve had a busy time, haven’t you?” I searched Gideon’s face for signs of weariness, but I couldn’t find any. Far from it—he looked wide awake. “How’s your arm?”
“Fine. Listen to what Mr. George is saying. It’s important.”
“This time Gideon visited Margaret directly after her initiation journey in 1894,” said Mr. George. “I must explain that the time travel gene, Factor X, seems to show in the blood only after that first journey. Obviously the chronograph can’t recognize blood taken from travelers before that. Count Saint-Germain did some experiments on that subject in his own time, and they nearly led to the destruction of the chronograph. So there’s no point in visiting a time traveler to take blood in his or her childhood. Although it would make things much easier. Do you understand?”