A place in time

The open day fair at Roehampton University was vibrant. Tents with tables loaded with brochures lured Amanda like bees to honey. Club presidents stood close to these tables with blank lines on their books hoping that all the new students would sign up for their club. Amanda had brushed past new students, hoping to exit the tents as fast as she had collected the brochures she needed. Even as she stepped outside, the rising of conversation did not ebb, everywhere she looked she saw eager faces like hers, they could not wait to start classes. For a moment, she paused and took in the vibrancy around her and wonder if she would enjoy it all. Opening the brochure, she had escaped with, she searched for the place she wanted to see. It was a secluded pond. It was a place her mother had told her about, and she wanted to see it.

“We will be going for a walk around the historic sights,” one of the guides called nearby.

Immediately she went to join the group.

Five minutes later she was lingering at the back of the students who were eagerly asking questions when she saw the murky pond which didn't look all that impressive like her mother had made her believe. She told the guide she wanted to have a better look around. He agreed to pick her up on his way back.

When she was alone, she closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath and listened to the wind as it danced through the nearby trees. It was peaceful she thought. Opening her eyes, she searched the trees for the thing she wanted to see.

 She was thinking about how nice the atmosphere of the place was when she caught a shade of white from her periphery. Turning her head, she saw a man dressed in regency clothing walking towards the other side of the small pond.

The pond was secluded and encircled by tall pines. Her fascination for the pond was all because of the story she had heard from her mother. Her mother, Bernice, had studied at Roehampton too and she had told her a peculiar story about the ghost of the former owner of the original estate. According to her mother, the owner of the estate Marquis Roehampton had been in love with a mullato woman and when his father found out he had the woman shipped to Jamaica. Unbeknownst to the young Marquis, his lady love was pregnant with his child. When the Marquis found out that his lady was pregnant and had died in childbirth, he killed himself instead of marrying the noblewoman his father wanted him to. Her mother had told her that since this happened, students have claimed to see the young Marquis.

Amanda opened the brochure, there on the page was a small portrait of a young man in a powdered wig and tricorne hat. A cravat was tied tightly at his throat as if it were strangling him. She scrutinised the picture taking in the patrician nose, bow-shaped lips and eyes she was certain was green, but she still held the brochure closer to her face to inspect it more. Could this be the same person she had just seen? She wondered as she rose from the bench and made a beeline for the man. Surely ghosts were not real, she thought as her trainer clad feet crunch the loose stones that lined the path around the pond a briar tugged at her jeans as she hurried after the man.

When she reached the other side of the pond, no one was there. Disappointed by this, she went to the edge of the pond and stared into the water. It looked cold, she thought. It was the beginning of September of course it would be cold. Even in June, the English temperature was cool. Shaking her head at her foolishness, she turned to leave but something caught her eye in the water. Taking a cautious step closer to the edge, she leaned over and stuck her hand in.

Pulling the thing from the pond, she opened her palm and examined it. She wiped the pond slime from it and turned it around in the hand. It was a brooch she thought, it looked expensive. Frowning she stared down at the intricate design in gold. It was familiar.

“That is mine,” a voice says from across the pond.

Amanda’s head snapped up and a startled gasp escaped her. It was him. Dressed in a white ruffled shirt, breeches, and riding boots. He looked as if he had stepped off the cover of a Victorian fashion magazine. He was dashing for a dead man she thought.

“The brooch you hold is mine,” the male says again. His voice was hard as if he thought she was stealing his belongings.

Unable to speak, she held out her trembling fingers. “You can have it. I just found it there,” she explained pointing to the pond, not knowing why she felt compelled to reply.

He walked towards hers with long strides. As he drew closer, she saw that he did not appear ethereal as she imagined ghosts were supposed to be.

Coming to stand a handspan from her he held out his hand. “If you please,” he says politely, his eyes watching her.

A shock of electricity jolted her as she placed the brooch in his hand and her eyes went to meet his. “Are you sure it’s yours?” she asks.

He nods his head. “I have been looking for it for some time.” He stares down at the brooch, then met her eyes. “Where are my manners,” he apologised. “I am Harold, you are?”

“M-me?” Amanda points to herself. “I’m Amanda Hampton.”

“You will be attending school here?”

Amanda bobs her head. “It’s my first year. I start next week,” she tells him trying to fill the silence with the information she knew was irrelevant.

A small smile twisted his lips. “Miss Amanda Hampton, I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I do not believe you will be starting school next week.”

Confused, she could only stare at him. “I don’t understand.”

He stepped closer to her. “Turn around,” he told her.

Still baffled, she did as he asked. Her stomach knotted as if someone was holding her intestines and twisting them continuously. Where the tents from the university had lined the gardens before, nothing was there but a long drive. No students lingered about. All there was, was the sprawling stately home that she immediately recognised as part of the university.

“What’s going on?” she asks him, her eyes seeing the estate but not understanding.

“You have come to me here,” he replies. There was a hint of sadness in his voice and Amanda turned. “Am I dead?”

He stares at her, then he nods slowly. “You fell into the pond, now you are here with me.” There was an emotion in his eyes she recognised. It was one of defeat as if this were not the first time this had happened.

“Come with me. I will tell you all about it,” he says, holding out his hand.

Reluctantly, she took his hand and followed him. “Will I be able to go back home?”

He did not answer her. His silence said all she needed to know.