The Day Before Forever Read Free Page B

looked closely at the years. The license was issued in 2015 and it expired in 2019.
    â€œThe current year must be between 2015 and 2019.” My head spun.
    I saw Henley gulp.
    I had seen the sweatshirts and sneakers, and I knew we were in the future. I was born in the forties . . . 1943, was it? And Henley was born in the late 1800s. This definitely wasn’t our time. I also knew this definitely wasn’t Tudor England, but we were so far in the future.
    On the other hand, this was a time period I knew a bit about. It was close to the year Miss Hatfield had been killed. Technically, the murder had taken place only a few years ago.
    I tried to keep a level head. “What about the wallet?” I asked.
    â€œYou should just drop it here,” Henley said. “No sense in carrying it around, especially with someone else’s ID in there.”
    Since there was no table or window ledge on which to set it down, I put the leather wallet on the floor between us.
    â€œWe should go,” Henley said. But neither of us knew where.
    â€œWait,” I said. “We can’t go like this.” I motioned to what I was wearing.
    I took off the first layer of my clothing—the Tudor gown I was wearing and the French hood headpiece, along with the pouch strung on a golden belt. As strange as the pieces of clothing looked, wearing them had become almost second nature to me in 1527.
    Something rattled in the pouch as I took it off. I looked in and saw that it was a small glass vial, the size of one of my fingers. It had been a little present from Richard.
    I turned it over in my hands once, before promptly putting it back into the drawstring pouch. I couldn’t deal with it right now. We didn’t have time. I couldn’t think about Richard yet.
    I had Henley help me take off my corset. I took a deep breath once it came off. Next was the stifling kirtle.
    I kept taking articles of clothing off until I was left with a pile of fabric at my feet and only a white linen smock on. It wasn’t much better, but at least I now had a minuscule chance of fitting in here—whatever the exact year was. Not to mention the fact that my entire body felt lighter and much less constrained.
    â€œYou’re forgetting this.” Henley lifted the necklace I was wearing from around my neck. He took it off and handed it to me. Even after hundreds of years, the garnets—or were they rubies?—glinted in the sunlight that streamed in from the tall windows of the room.
    I paused before deciding to put the heavy necklace and matching earrings with the vial in the pouch I had been wearing. I strapped the belt and pouch back on.
    Wadding up the clothing on the floor, I looked around to see if there was a vase or something I could hide them in. Nothing. The Painted Hall was too bare. I decided I would just bring them with me for now. It would be too suspicious if I just left a pile of clothing here.
    I cocked my head at Henley, and he shrugged. There was nothing we could do about the way he was dressed, as he was only in a linen shirt and old-fashioned, billowy shorts. Maybepeople would think we were actors in costumes like that other woman seemed to think? Then again, maybe people would think we were both dressing according to some brand-new fashion? One could only hope.
    Henley picked up the clock and put it under his arm. I followed him as he walked out of the room, the way the tour group had left.
    When we passed through the doorway, I saw that we were outside. The light was incredibly bright. I squinted forward and thought I saw the River Thames. Some things never changed. The gravel crunched beneath our flimsy leather shoes as we stumbled toward the river.
    â€œWait a second,” I said.
    I spied a booth set up against the stone wall on the outside of the building, just a little to our right. “Take photos with you as the king and queen!” it declared. It was a little thing, barely fitting the man