Listen to "Love is Blue" by Paul Muriat to set the mood.

It was the year 1827, and 6pm in the afternoon of a Tuesday in the early spring, and Lord Arthur Hindley Kirkland rode on his horse, Bess, back to his mansion. He was alone and returning from business he had in London. He was always alone, ever since the death of his wife Alice seven years before. She had died giving birth to their son, and although he tried, he was not the best of fathers, very distant from his child, and most people in general. Ever since her death he had become a recluse, hiding himself away from the world except for those rare days when he had to take care of his business, and have meetings and such. In all those years still had not been able to get over her passing. As he rode over the fields towards home, he could see the storm clouds gathering in the distance. Perhaps he would make it back before they caught up with him. To beat the storm, he rode faster and was not expecting anyone to be on the dirt track of a road, however someone was there, or rather, they were not there but suddenly seemed to appear, and he had little time to steer his horse out of the way. Bess neighed and reared up, her hooves coming down hard on the pedestrian in the way of her. She did not mean to hurt him or to almost throw her rider off, but she did receive a bit of a fright. Struggling to control his horse, Arthur eventually calmed her and dismounted, to go to the aid of the person who'd been hurt.

In the road, lay a young man, but he was unlike any that Arthur had seen. He was wearing strange clothes and his blonde hair was worn in a very feminine style. The young man's face was a smooth porcelain white, and he looked so innocent and lost. Unfortunately, Bess had knocked him out with her hooves, and he was unconscious for a few moments, his head bruised and bleeding.

"Oh, dear God I am so sorry…" Hindley cried as he knelt to see if he was hurt badly. The young man slowly came around and looked at him with the most beautiful blue eyes Hindley had ever beheld. From that moment he was captivated, but he didn't say anything, as it would be grossly inappropriate. The man couldn't remember who or where he was at first and everything was strange, but he thought he recognised the man beside him and a name came to his lips. "Arthur?" He asked "Qu'est il arrive..?"

"Are you French?" Hindley asked as he tried to help him to his feet. "Do you speak English?" He asked as he tried to help him up, but the young man was far too concussed to be able to stand. "Parlez Vous Anglais?" Hindley asked, but the Frenchman couldn't answer. "How do you know my name?"

"Pardon Monsieur?" asked the Frenchman, hardly able to focus because of the extreme pain in his head.

"You knew my name…" Hindley said as he tried to help him again, but it was no use, he was injured quite badly. "What is your name?" he asked and then thought for a moment "Comment allez vous?"

"Je suis… Francis…" He replied quietly.

"Francis, I am very sorry, my horse was frightened, and she hurt you, but I'm going to get you to safety alright?" He said as he helped him stand. "You must hold on to me, don't worry, you'll be alright.

Somehow, he managed to get him on to the horse, and then quickly mounted up behind him and held on to him so he wouldn't fall off, then rode on towards his home, through the fields. It started to rain, and the storm was upon them when he finally got there, the wind and rain coming down in buckets. He carried Francis from his horse and the door was thankfully opened by the butler, Mr Townsend.

"Get a doctor Mr Townsend, this man is hurt. Bess accidentally ran into him on the road."

"But of course, Mr Kirkland Sir…" Mr Townsend replied. "I shall send the maid to the town…"

Hindley looked out at the storm and sighed. "No, it must wait till the storm has passed. Very well, I shall take care of him myself. Have Mrs Bailey bring me a set of pyjamas to the end room upstairs. And if you wouldn't mind helping me get him there Mr Townsend?

"Very good Sir." Townsend replied and they both helped Francis up the stairs to the room on the end which was free.

"Light a fire Townsend…" Hindley ordered "It may be spring but it is cold in here." He continued as he laid Francis down on the bed. The Frenchman was still dazed and confused, and he had no idea where in the world he was, or that he had travelled back to 1827. As Mr Townsend lit a fire, the housekeeper brought him a set of pyjamas as instructed. She also brought a bowl and a cloth to help clean the mysterious stranger whom Hindley had run down on the road.

"You need to rest…" Hindley said, not sure if Francis could understand him. "I can help you get changed into these pyjamas. I'm sorry that we didn't get here in time to dodge the storm."

Suddenly the pain in his head hit him as if from nowhere, causing Francis to double up. It was horrendous. Hindley sent Townsend away and gently tried to clean the wound on Francis' head, and get him out of those wet clothes. Francis was very much concussed and basically let the Englishman take care of him. As he removed his wet clothes, baring his body to him, Hindley felt a strange attraction towards him, and it was unusual. He'd never felt such a thing for a male in his life before, but somehow, he was attracted to him, although he tried to hide it. After all that would be completely inappropriate, and yet…somehow, he enjoyed that feeling. After helping him change and into the bed, he sat there for a few moments, quite captivated by him and for no good reason.

"Je vous remercie…" Francis uttered as the pain subsided a little and he was able to take in his surroundings. His memory was shattered, and he didn't really know where he was, although it did seem a little familiar somehow.

"Parlez vous Anglais Monsieur?" Asked Hindley curiously. Eventually Francis replied in English.

"Yes, Oui.. I do…" He said. "But … I am lost… Monsieur… "

"You um… know who I am sir?"

Francis thought about it for a moment. He could remember snippits of things, and little things but not everything. Even so he had an idea of who this man was.

"Arthur…" He said "Lord Kirkland…"

"That's right." Hindley replied. "Were you coming to see me? Why were you out on the road?"

Francis really couldn't remember why he was out there, or where he had come from. It might have been due to the concussion, or some side effect of time travelling from 1946 back to 1827 but he just couldn't get his thoughts together. All he knew was that he was in pain and he was so very afraid, but he couldn't understand it or explain why.

"Monsieur… where is this place?" He asked with a panic in his soft French voice.

"This is the Kirkland Mansion…" Hindley replied. "Were you on your way here?" He asked "Did you wish to see me?"

"I … I don't remember?" Francis replied. He really couldn't and perhaps it was because he was so very afraid that he panicked so and started to cry.

Hindley watched, unsure about what to do. People generally didn't ever burst into tears in front of him like that, and he hardly even knew this person, but he felt like he should say or do something.

He picked up the cloth that Mrs Bailey brought him, soaked it and awkwardly cleaned Francis' face and still bleeding head wound.

"There now old chap… don't want to be crying now do we?" He uttered, not sure exactly what he should be doing. "I expect you are in a lot of pain…"

Francis was indeed in a lot of pain and he felt delirious. Although Hindley didn't really know what to do, Francis found his presence comforting, and that may have been because he thought or believed that it was the Arthur Kirkland he knew and loved. Eventually he was able to close his eyes and sleep, mainly because the pain was so great, and he couldn't stay awake. Townsend brought some bandages and Hindley carefully bandaged the Frenchman's head.

"I am curious to know why he was coming to see me." He uttered as Townsend listened. "He knows my name… he knows who I am. He was definitely coming here."

"If I may Master Kirkland…" Townsend began.

"Yes?"

"You did mention to the housekeeper only recently that you were looking for a tutor for your son sir." He said "Perhaps he was on his way to apply for that position."

Indeed, Hindley had been talking of such things, as his son was getting older, and his nanny was wishing to leave to get married. He did not express whether he wanted a male or female tutor to apply when he put out the word to several agencies. None had yet applied as far as he knew.

"Oh yes of course… I wonder if that's why he was on his way here?" Hindley uttered. "Townsend, did we get a letter of commendation from anyone about him? I was able to gather that his first name is Francis."

"I will check for you sir." Townsend replied with a bow, before leaving the room.

Hindley stood at the bottom of the bed, gazing at the mysterious stranger lying there wondering who he might be. As he watched his soft breathing, he felt his heart go out to him and yet he was not quite sure why, only that he felt something for him that was unusual, and strange, and yet like nothing he'd ever felt.

"Who are you Francis?" He uttered. "Why do I feel so drawn to you? He whispered. "Why do I think you're…. beautiful?"

In a way that frightened him. He'd never found another man "beautiful" before and yet, here was one that evoked a deep feeling within him. He turned away and didn't look at him. How shameful of him to think this way, and yet… yet… he WAS beautiful.

Back in 1946 the Arthur Kirkland Francis knew and loved was pacing the floor, thinking deeply about the problem. The decomposed body of Arthur Hindley Kirkland lay in its open coffin nearby.

"Alright… so Francis was transported to some time in the past, using the machine…" He mumbled. "This is your fault Hindley, don't look at me like that…" He said to the corpse. It lay there, its jaw twisted in a ridiculous direction and its eye sockets crawling with maggots. Arthur pulled a face and closed the lid on the coffin. "I'm beginning to see that Francis was right… you are disgusting…ugh…" He uttered. "What was I thinking? Revive the dead? What planet am I on for heavens sake?"

He continued to pace the floor analysing the problem. Francis was gone, and he had to somehow get him back. "How in Gods name am I going to find him?" He sighed. "If I go and get him, there isn't another machine there, so we can return…" he muttered. "Please don't be lost forever Francis…" He sat down and started to work on the problem, but he couldn't, he was so stressed and upset. For once he realised the truth, that he was truly alone. Francis was gone, and he might not be able to bring him home. He slowly sank into deep despair, teardrops falling on the paper on which he was trying to work out the problem.

"What have I done?" He mumbled, and looked over at the machine, which he now hated. "Francis.." he uttered sadly.