Beyond
Time
Book 2 of the Highland Secret Series
by
Elizabeth Marshall
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Copyright 2013 Deborah-Ann Brown
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead is entirely coincidental.
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DEDICATION
I dedicate this story with all my love to my precious family,
Andy, Sean, Kel, Ste, Rose, Dave, George, Emma, Gerard and Lucy -
a reminder of the many exciting adventures we have had over the years.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Andy, I would not have written anything without you beside me. You are my world and I love you with all my heart! For all the wonderful times we have snuck away to York together, and the adventures that planted the seed of this plot, I thank you my love. For all the precious memories we have created together in York over the years – you put magic back into my life.
Sean, where would I be without you? You have given up yet another summer for me. Love you so much big lad and thank you for everything you have done.
Kel and Ste, for your love and support, I thank you with all my heart. How you two put up with me, I will never know? Yet again you have stood by me and made this happen. I love you both so much, thank you.
Dave, George, Emma, Gerard and Lucy – what a support team. I couldn’t do any of this without you. Love you all and thank you.
Noreen Muller and Kim Bennett for being brave enough and kind enough to test drive this plot on its first draft. You are both absolute stars, thank you, so very much.
Simon Barnes, if you hadn’t stepped in when you did, I would not be preparing to launch this book. Thank you for being an amazing friend.
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again -
To the best public house in York, ‘Ye Olde Starre Inne’, you are absolutely, one hundred percent, responsible for my passion for ancient pubs, which is of course why I have chosen to use ‘Ye Olde Starre Inne’ as a key location in the ‘Highland Secret Series’. Thank you for putting up with my endless questions and for providing the perfect retreat from a hard day’s writing.
Here’s to Friday nights and your wonderful pub.
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FOREWORD
HAUNTED YORK
Sit back, relax and prepare yourself to meet some famous residents of York – the most haunted city in Britain.
The dark streets are overcrowded, noisy and foul smelling. The air is heavy and wet. The smell of rancid waste fills your nostrils and hits the back of your throat. Lowering your eyes to the ground, anxious to avoid stepping in the sludge of filth that carpets the street, you notice an old man stumble and fall heavily in front of you. His death is not your concern.
You turn and guide your horse off the main path of the street and onto the cobbled courtyard of a posting house. A stable lad is grooming a fine black stallion as you emerge into the yard.
“Any chance of a drink for my horse?” you ask, noticing a trough of water to the side of the yard. The lad nods in the direction of the trough.
It is 1680 and you are watering your horse at what is now known as ‘Ye Olde Starre Inne’ – York’s oldest licensed public house.
The air around you fills with the desperate cries of wounded and dying men and the unmistakable smell of blood and death hangs in the air.
Fear grips your soul as the sound grows louder and closer – but there is no one there, except you… and the stable lad.
The lad shrugs, “Ignore it. It is naught but the cries from the surgeon’s blade. Before my time, you know... back in ‘44, after Marston Moor. They brought their injured and dying here, used it as a bloody billet hospital and morgue. “It is said the landlord was none too happy, him being a Royalist and all. Don’t suppose he had much choice, them Roundheads having taken the city from Charles. Mind, it wasn’t long after that they took his head as well.”
So, if you are ever in York, I dare you to take a wander up Stonegate. Look for the banner stretched across the street and take the entrance below. Go hear for yourself the cries of the dead as you lift your mug of ale and sup to King Charles and his head.
Not brave enough for the ‘Ye Olde Starre Inne’? Well... why not try the ‘Cock and Bottle’? Ladies be warned however, of a man wearing a richly embroidered coat and tight fitting breeches, with dashingly handsome features and long, black, wavy hair.
George Villiers, the second Duke of Buckingham, born in London in 1628, was a close friend of Charles the second. He was a womanizer with an extraordinary talent for charming pretty ladies into his bed. So infamous was his character and reputation that his way with the ladies and his downfall from parliament in 1673 was immortalized in the nursery rhyme ‘Georgie Porgie’:
‘Georgie Porgie, Puddin' and Pie
Kissed the girls and made them cry
When the boys came out to play
Georgie Porgie ran away.’
It is believed that on his retirement George bought a house on Skeldergate in the vicinity of today’s ‘Cock and Bottle’ public house.
Apparently Mr. Villiers is still there. His saucy ghost has been caught spying on young ladies in the shower, following them to the toilet and fondling and stroking pretty customers of the ‘Cock and Bottle’ pub.
Shall I continue?
OK, but we only have time for one more, so grab a cup of tea and enjoy this, my last haunted tale for now!
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