March 1870 Howenstowe

Tommy sat at his desk. Even though he had known this day was approaching and he and Barbara were prepared, it was still devastating to have Barbara leave him. He had assumed he would come to the study and quickly write his letters but it was not that easy. He poured a whiskey and stood by the window looking out over Howenstowe. It was so different now from when he and Barbara had arrived and so different from what it had been one hundred years in the future when he was boy. He had been privileged to see the changes and know that future generations of Lynleys would look after the estate and the tenants.

As he sipped his whiskey he thought about his time in the future. The memories of Helen were no longer raw. He remembered the good times fondly and the troubling times as learning. If he had not loved Helen as he had he would never have considered Barbara romantically. He had needed to see her strength and her love for him so he could learn to love himself.

Barbara had been his life around which everything else orbited. He felt old but not dulled, yet he knew he could die easily because he could not live without her. He would take an hour to remember his life and put it into perspective. He had written it all down over the years in his journal. Today he would make a final entry and then write the letter he knew would break his mother's heart.

Two hours later Tommy sealed the envelope, first with a kiss then his seal. He sighed and addressed the covering letter to the Bodleian. He put Barbara's rings on the table next to the sealed puzzle box and propped the letter to James against it, along with the one for the Bodleian. He locked his journal in his hidden compartment in the bookcase then went to say goodbye.

Tommy smiled as he watched Barbara. It was if she was asleep. He stripped to his undershirt and climbed in next to her. She was cool but not cold. He wrapped her arm around his waist as she usually did and cradled her in his arms. He kissed her lips softly. "I love you Barbara, always will."

Tommy closed his eyes and drifted into the sleep from which he would never wake.

April 2016 Howenstowe

It was nearly three o'clock before everyone gathered back in the library. The mood was solemn.

"Even if Tommy would consider it, Barbara never would," Simon argued, "I don't believe they would just run off leaving everything, not today of all days."

"No!" Dorothy cried, "he was happy. They were happy. For the first time in years my son had a reason to live. They haven't absconded Sergeant."

Hillier pulled rank and intervened with the local policeman. "It's an avenue of enquiry Dorothy. We have to follow it up but I don't believe it either. Look into it Sergeant but I doubt you'll find anything."

"No one believes it." Everyone turned around to watch a bedraggled Peter enter the room and flop into a chair. "We've searched everywhere Mother. There's no sign. No one saw them, his car is untouched, Barbara's bag and phone are upstairs. It's as if they vapourised."

"Excuse me m'lady," the maid interrupted, "but it's nearly three o'clock."

"So?" Dorothy did not intend to be curt but she was beside herself with worry. She had sensed something last night when she had delayed them leaving. Despite her hope she knew in her heart she would never see her son again.

"That was the time his Lordship was to open the puzzle box. Ms Bullard is quite insistent that it proceed."

"Now? With Tommy and Barbara missing? I hardly think it's important."

"With respect Lady Asherton, I think it is vital." Dorothy turned to see a statuesque woman in a neat grey suit standing beside the puzzle box. Her flaming red hair was highlighted by her cream roll neck sweater. She peered over her glasses in a manner perfected by years helping lazy students use the Bodleian collections. "The letter written by Thomas insists that the second letter be opened as it will solve a great mystery and bring comfort in sadness."

Dorothy was not going to be easily intimidated by an academic. "The box? You think the answer to their disappearance is in a box that's been sealed for two hundred years? You must be mad! What makes you think you're so right?"

"I'm a descendent of Thomas and Elizabeth through their youngest son Arthur. When I spoke to Tommy last week he found the connection very interesting and was as curious as I am about how and why I'm personally named as caretaker for today in Thomas's letter to the Bodleian. So I confess to a vested interest but I really think the answer is in the box. With respect, what if I'm right? Would you ever forgive yourself for not opening it?"

Her argument cut to the bone. Dorothy had hurt Tommy enough years ago, she could never forgive herself if something happened now that she could prevent. "Show me!"

As the crowd gathered around, Ms Bullard carefully placed the outer letter and the envelope that had been sealed inside it on the table. Dorothy frowned at the envelope with its beautiful Copperplate script. "It's addressed to the Dowager Countess."

"Technically that's you Lady Asherton."

"I know who I am thank you!" Ms Bullard smiled tightly but did not budge. "Do what you need to."

Bullard pulled on her white gloves then carefully turned the faded parchment over and broke the seal. Using tweezers she coaxed the delicate paper from the hand-folded envelope and straightened it on the white cloth she had brought to protect it.

Dorothy found her glasses then began to read. "Oh my god!"

Judith and Peter rushed to her side. "Mother what's wrong?" her son asked.

"It's written by Tommy. It's a cruel joke! It has to be!"

Peter studied the letter which did indeed look to be written not in the Copperplate of the envelope but in Tommy's handwriting. He began to read aloud.

"March 1870

Dear Mother, Judith, Peter and friends,

I imagine your first reaction is horror and disbelief. This is not a hoax or a scam and I will explain all. It is a final joy to be able to write once again in plain English!

At the moment I imagine you are searching for us. Call it off. We did not get lost nor run away. When I took Barbara up to Druid's Hill I proposed to Barbara just as I had mentioned to Mother I intended to do. To my great delight Barbara accepted and as we kissed we lent against the stone. By mechanisms I still fail to fathom we fell through time to 1816. We attempted to return but after I inadvertently saved the Princess and was given Howenstowe Barbara and I realised we were in fact Thomas and Elizabeth. We were the strangers who appeared and built a dynasty with nothing but good luck and a bag full of replica coins."

"Good heavens!" Hillier exclaimed as Dorothy began to sob loudly.

"It's a set up," one of the police exclaimed. "You can't travel in time. She's in on it."

"I assure you I'm not," Ms Bullard said haughtily.

Peter continued. "Mother, it must be painful to learn that I am long dead and that we shall never meet again. That has saddened me all my life, knowing the pain you must feel."

Judith embraced her mother who was crying pitifully. Peter choked up as he began to read again. "I am truly sorry about how I treated you and Peter those years ago but in the last few years I know we forgave each other and that has been of great comfort to me.

Peter, you will make a fine 9th Earl. Continue our work and make us proud of you. I am forever grateful to Barbara for insisting we make up before this happened. I doubt I could have enjoyed life if we had not found our peace." Peter wiped tears from his eyes then asked Winston to finish reading.

"Judith, you were a wonderful sister. I know I don't have to say more.

Sir David, it was an honour to serve with you. Take care of Winston." Winston paused and took a deep breath before continuing falteringly. "He is a fine, smart and loyal officer. Barbara and I both thought of him as our friend. We spoke often of him over the years.

You already know most of the story of Thomas and Elizabeth. We chose her middle name as Barbara sounded out of place. We had a wonderfully long and happy life together. It was not always easy but knowing what is going to happen makes some things easier to bear. We could not dare interfere with history but we tried to minimise its adverse effects. My only regret was not trying to stop Daniel going to the Crimea but Barbara argued that it would interfere with the bloodline. I had no choice but that was why I spoiled him as a child, knowing his life would be so short.

Our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren are all wonderful people with Barbara's kindness and sense of duty and some of my charm and good looks. Yes Peter, I said that for you to groan. You would be so proud of them Mother. Oh and Mother in case you are wondering they were all legitimate. Barbara and I married in secret at the chapel in Penzance in June 1816. The parish register will sho Asherton married Barbara Elizabeth Havers. I could not use Lynley because we had already passed ourselves off to the Prince Regent as being married.

It still 'does my head in' as Barbara used to say, to think that as 8th Earl I carried the genes of myself and Barbara. In a way that made me feel closer to her. I have waited years to rub that in Peter. You have the blood of Barbara and I in your veins. The irony! Physically it makes no sense how that can be but until they solve the question of time travel which DID happen then who am I to ponder? I am curious though whether, now Tommy and Barbara have gone, a new geophysics survey would reveal the bones of Thomas and Elizabeth.

It is important to understand that Barbara and I chose to stay and make our home here. We never regretted the decision although we missed you all and some of the modern technology. Barbara would also say she missed the food. It is no coincidence that Cornwall is the home of British fish and chips!

I hope it is some comfort to know that we lived long and contented lives. We were happy and probably happier than we could ever have been in the twenty-first century. We were free to be ourselves and we loved each other more than I ever believed possible. Barbara was a wonderful friend, companion, mother and lover and I feel blessed to have been her husband.

I will go soon to be with my beloved wife. I will die in her arms content with my life. The instructions to open the box are on the next page. I hope the contents prove my case. I have often thought how this will look as if we have staged an elaborate disappearance. I would certainly suspect it. We did not and I know you will all believe me. I am hoping that the fact I sent this to the Bodleian and they can verify it has not been opened will help in Peter's claim for my title and avoid the seven year delay for me to be declared dead. There is little more I can do.

Now the hour draws near.

Farewell and rest easy knowing that we loved you and thought of you constantly. All my love,

Tommy

Thomas Alexander Lynley"

Winston looked up and wiped his eye. "The next page is just how to open the box."

"Peter, do it," Dorothy ordered.

Peter carefully followed the instructions. With the last twist the box opened. Everyone peered inside. Tommy's watch lay next to his mobile phone. On top was his plastic Met ID card and an envelope marked 'Hair samples for DNA'. All of them were aged. The mobile's glass was dull and the metal case was covered in the fine white dust of oxided aluminium. The ID card was bent and faded but when Dorothy saw her son's face she began to cry. His watch looked as good as the day it had been handcrafted by the Swiss watchmaker although the black leather band was brittle and cracked.

"That's an amazing story," Hillier said to break the silence. "Despite everything I know, I believe it is true."

A general murmur of agreement went around the room. "What do we do now?" Judith asked. She was taking great comfort from Winston's arm around her shoulder.

"We honour their wishes," Peter said as he picked up the ID card. A small piece of paper fluttered free. He picked it up and read it. "Seems my brother has one more twist planned."

He strode over to the table and poured himself a whiskey. He moved to stand in front of the portraits of Thomas and Elizabeth and looked up. From that angle he could see that they were indeed forever staring into each other's eyes. "Help me."

Winston helped Peter lift Tommy's portrait down from the wall. Peter turned it over and searched the back. He smiled as he found the inscription he was looking for. "Put is back please." Simon helped Winston.

He turned and went to the second bookcase, built into the wall behind the old desk. He fiddled with the first shelf then found the latch. He pressed it and part of the bookcase sprung open.

Dorothy stared. "I've seen than bookcase cleaned for over forty years and never seen that."

Peter reached in and pulled out an old, dusty leather journal. He opened it and gasped as he flicked through it. "It's Tommy's! When I was young he used to read to me and tell me about spies and secret hiding places. He taught me a code. He knew I would find it. Mother, this is Tommy's journal. It starts in eighteen sixteen and finishes the day he died. I think you should read it first so you know what happened to him."

Dorothy hugged the journal to her. "Thank you." She opened the first page. The inscription read 'For Mother'.

Peter returned to the portraits. "They were an extraordinary couple to find themselves in a different age and make such a success of it. Can you imagine how frightening it must have been?" He raised his glass. "To Tommy and Barbara."

Dorothy cried as she saw her son toast Tommy. For the first time today she felt hope for the family. Tommy and Barbara's legacy would continue through the 9th Earl of Asherton but she would miss them - dearly.

Author's note: in answer to some of your comments none of the storyline is based on any other fantasy stories. I simply borrowed Garbaldon's concept of falling through the stones as a mechanism to travel through time. The rest is from my head including my perversion of history with Sophie and George.

I am sorry if some of you misplaced your trust in me to bring them back but the story finishes the way it arrived in my head. Sometimes killing of the characters is necessary. It does not make their love any less.