“Well, look who it is,” Gloria said, clearly delighted to see her. Ariana basked in her smile.
“See, I told you, dearie,” Milo said, grinning at Gloria. “I had a feeling and you know my feelings are always right.”
“They’re right about one in ten times,” Gloria mock grumbled. “But I’m so glad this is one of them.”
“What are you two on about?” Ariana asked, glad for the poor lighting in the street.
“Milo said we should wander past Belmary House. He was sure you’d be here.”
“And I was right.”
“But it’s so late. You should be snug in your beds by now.”
“Nah,” said Gloria mischievously. “You see, we were heading to a party in 1814, not the country house. A real zinger, we’re told. Now you’re here you’ll join us. And as usual, Your Majesty, you’re dressed like a queen.”
Ariana frowned. All she wanted to do was close her weary eyes. “1814? That’s awfully close to my timeline. You’re sure it’s safe?”
“As long as you weren’t born yet, it’s perfectly safe, m’dear,” Milo assured her.
“And I can show you the traveling spell,” Gloria added.
That perked Ariana up. She’d been waiting so long. Technically only a few days, but it seemed like forever with all the days she was packing into one every time she visited.
“Where shall we do it?” she asked eagerly. “Is it safe to do it out in the open like this? What if we pop up in front of someone out of thin air?”
Gloria took Ariana’s arm and led her along, motioning for Milo to follow. “It’s true that sometimes happens. But the person usually runs screaming, thinking they’ve seen a ghost.” As they passed under a gas street lamp, Gloria peered into her face and tutted. “I thought I saw the telltale signs of crying. What happened?”
She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. Where did she start? It all seemed so far away and long ago. She wished it could stay that way, that she never had to return and face it.
“I ruined my two best friends’ lives and caused a scene at my family’s ball.”
She was certain she would cry again, but she must have been drained dry because no more tears came.
“Do you mean Owen and Maria?” Gloria said. She always paid attention when Ariana told her things. Always remembered everything. “The ones you hoped would join us?”
Now that the engagement was a pile of dust, Ariana had a feeling she wouldn’t be seeing Maria around. At least not until Owen went back to Scotland. She still clung to the hope that Owen would come to his senses and want to continue practicing with her.
“You say this party is going to be a zinger?” Ariana asked.
She didn’t want to talk or think about Owen. It was like jabbing at a fresh cut. She saw Gloria exchange a worried glance with Milo, but he nudged her elbow and shook his head.
“Yes, look at this,” he said, holding out a handful of cards.
Ariana peered at them, trying to make out the words in the dim light.
“Are those vouchers to Almack’s?” she asked. “My father used to complain about that place but no one much goes anymore in my time.” She squinted down at the names. “But we won’t be able to get in with those. Certainly they’ll know we aren’t them?”
The pair laughed heartily at her. “Do you think we could call ourselves witches if we couldn’t cast such a simple spell? We can be whoever we want to be.”
Ariana still flinched at the easy mention of witches. She knew it was only a word, but it conjured up scary stories of mean old crones with green skin who ate children. Nothing like what she wanted to do, which was make the world a better place. Even if she could never gain renown for it, she wished she could clear the word of its poor reputation.
They came upon a small park that she knew to be about a block from Almack’s. She wasn’t overly thrilled about having to go to a party in her frame of mind and especially not one in such a dreary, stuffy place. But her friends were so excited about it, she didn’t want to ruin their good moods. She definitely wanted to learn that spell.
“Pay attention now,” Gloria said. “This is my specialty so you’ll forgive me if I show off a bit. We’ll have you try it on the way back. If you like, you can hop straight to your own year and won’t have to mess about with your portal.”
“That would be divine,” she said. The way she felt already, the last thing she needed was the stomach aches and shakiness that came along with her homemade spell to manipulate the return trip through the portal. “And don’t call that wretched thing mine. It’s a curse, you know. Although I think the woman who originally set it didn’t mean it to be so. What’s that saying about a woman scorned?”
“Hell has no fury like it, m’dear. Not that I would know anything about that.” Milo chuckled and patted Gloria’s shoulder.
She sat down under a small tree and raised a brow at him, then motioned for Ariana to sit beside her. Ariana blanched when she handed her a small knife and instructed her to cut her finger.
“Just let a few drops fall on these here herbs,” she said, popping open a vial and sprinkling a flaky mixture on the ground.
“Drops of blood?” Ariana asked incredulously.
She knew there were spells that called for blood and worse, but she and Owen always avoided those.
Gloria looked at her impatiently. She brushed bits of herbs off her hands and restoppered the vial as if they weren’t talking about bloodletting.
“They demand it,” she said.
Ariana blinked, feeling like she was being torn back through the years. By memory, not a spell.
“Who are they?” she asked.
Owen had said something about that elusive “they” once and then pretended he hadn’t. It still gave her the chills.
“Ah, it’s nothing to go so green over. Some people call them the others. It’s only the ones who came before us, helping us with our powers. They don’t do it out of kindness, mind.”
“Th-then are they evil?”
“Goodness, no.” Gloria tutted at such a question, then turned serious. “They’re not your friends, make no mistake about that. But they’ll do their part if you do yours.”
She shriveled against the tree trunk, still not understanding but not wanting to keep asking pesky questions. She hadn’t liked it when Owen denied knowing anything, but she found that the little knowledge she now had disturbed her even more. She didn’t like the idea of being beholden to these shadowy others.
Milo cleared his throat and piped up, “Did you know Drummond got that spell of yours set up at the orphan home? And one lad with a gimpy leg has already been adopted. That poor boy would have been tossed out on the streets to a short life of misery and crime if it weren’t for you.”
“Yes, isn’t that wonderful?” Gloria said.
She still had an edge of impatience to her voice but Ariana thought it was sweet of them to try and reassure her.
How could they sense her feelings so easily? It was because they were so alike, she was sure. And if those shadowy others had helped her with her homemade spell to find homes for children, then what was wrong with being beholden to them? She felt silly being so squeamish about a few drops of blood and quickly ran the blade across her thumb.
“Let’s get to that party,” she said, looking at them both gratefully. “I need a good time after the evening I already had.”
“Try not to make a scene at this party,” Milo said with a sly wink. He looked down at the vouchers. “We wouldn’t want Lord and Lady Tipton and Miss Cecilia Fellows to lose their subscriptions.”
Ariana blushed and laughed along with him until Gloria snapped her fingers. “Are we or are we not time traveling? We haven’t got all night.”
“If we’re time traveling, doesn’t that mean we have all the time we need?” Ariana asked, breaking out into laughter again when Milo snorted with mirth.
“The young queen is right, dearie. But you’re right as well,” he q
uickly amended at her look. “Let’s be on, shall we?”
The spell was surprisingly fast and easy. Gloria and Milo each took turns adding a bit of blood to the herb pile, she said a few odd words that sounded vaguely familiar and then she told them to sing.
“Sing what?” Ariana asked.
She looked at Milo who was already tunelessly mumbling the words to God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen.
“Matters not, just do it,” Gloria said, closing her eyes.
She hurriedly joined in at “let nothing you dismay” and by the time she got to “born on Christmas day” everything winked out. It winked back on again and she found herself sitting in the same park, yet different. There was a gate where none had been before, and the tree she was leaning against was now only a spindly sapling.
The other two were already marching away arm in arm and she ran to catch up with them, ignoring the slight dizziness. It was nothing compared to manipulating the portal.
The assembly rooms were just around the corner and Ariana was surprised to see the horde of people outside, crowding into the street as they waited to get in. It was still the same rather drab building but she’d never seen so many people vying to get in.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” Gloria squealed happily, as eager as a new debutante to get inside. “I do love the old-fashioned dances here. I’m going to wear out my slippers tonight, Milo. I hope you can keep up.”
Milo made a face and handed Ariana her ticket. She looked the eccentric pair over and wondered how they’d possibly make it inside. While Milo had lost his cabbage stink now that they lived at the country estate with plenty of fresh air, he still looked rough around the edges. That was really the kindest way she could think of his appearance. And while Gloria was neat as a pin, her gray hair was scraped back from her face in a disheveled bun and her dress was plain, dark brown, and completely out of style for the time.
And what about herself? She looked down at her lavish blue dress.
“This isn’t right at all. Even my hair is wrong,” she said. She never felt the sting of being out of place, but she often saw other girls being ostracized by her bratty peers and it didn’t looked fun. “No one will know I’m ahead of the fashion by almost twenty years. I’ll just be out of style to all of them.” She nodded anxiously at the line of party-goers.
“You’re right!” Gloria exclaimed, pulling out a little cloth bag. “I almost forgot about you. You look so pretty, that’s why. But this little concoction keeps people thinking what they should. By that I mean, whatever they expect is what they’ll see. They don’t expect to see such beggarly types as Milo and me, so we’ll look like a stately couple instead. And someone as young and lovely as you will be expected to have the most fashionable gown and hairstyle, so that’s what everyone will see.”
Ariana sniffed the bag, which smelled like lavender and roses and a hint of something that almost made her sneeze. She tucked it down the front of her gown and smiled.
“It’s lucky you had an extra.”
Gloria and Milo exchanged a look. “It is indeed, just as it’s lucky we found you on our way. We must be fated to have a wonderful night,” Milo said.
“Yes, it must be fate,” Gloria agreed. “So don’t feel you have to stay close to us. I intend to dance every dance, but you should mingle and have fun. Flirt a bit.”
“Perhaps I will,” Ariana said.
She took in the familiar yet strange scene, studying the clothing and the people, trying to pick out anyone she might know but at a much younger age.
This was the time when her parents had first met, before they fell in love and got married and had her and her brothers. What if she saw one of them in there?
She shrugged and got in line. So what if she did? They wouldn’t know her. Just as she was in 1889, she was free here. She could be anything or anyone she wanted. She straightened her spine, feeling as regal as the title her friends jokingly called her.
***
Nicholas Kerr paced by the gate, sick of the crush of people that continued to flow by him like an unending river. Almack’s was not his preferred meeting spot by any means, but he had been informed by that bizarre man Milo that his wife or mistress or whoever she was loved to dance. So that was where they were to meet.
He still thought it was fanciful. Downright mad, really. That lunatic had approached him out of the blue a fortnight past, telling him he was about to get some very good investment information and he’d be wise to heed it.
“Certainly, my good man, whatever you say,” Nick had said, trying to scoot past the odd, somewhat grungy looking bald man.
“Just remember me,” he called after Nick as he hurried away.
He hadn’t remembered him until a week later when he got the tip on the Italian investment. It came from an even stranger man than the one who foretold it. He was American of the brashest sort and seemed to know that Nick was in dire straits. He all but forced him to sign on to the investment, and what was the strangest of all, had required no money from him up front. Not that he had any to give, which made it extra fortuitous.
For a moment he thought it was some scheme to blackmail him by getting him to sign something untoward and he actually sat and read every last word of the ten page contract. His eyes were still blurry to this day. But it was all on the up and up and within three days he was already seeing dividends.
Then the other man, he really ought to remember the name of his business partner— Blodge or Wodge, yes, that was it, Liam Wodge— sent him a message saying he unfortunately had to pull out of the deal due to some hazy reasons and did Nick want his shares? It would require him to make a trip to Italy, but with all of the lenders beginning to breathe down his neck, Nick had agreed.
He was all packed up and ready to go when the lunatic Milo had come back to him, smug as could be.
“What did I tell you?”
Nick had sighed, but by then he was intrigued. Perhaps the odd duck had more tips for him. He had a lot of debts, after all.
“You were right, sir,” Nick said. “Can I buy you a drink to thank you?”
He cursed his jovial magnanimity. The dividends from his new investment wouldn’t be available until he went to Italy and he didn’t have two shillings on him. There wasn’t a tavern in London that would run a tab for him anymore, either.
“No indeed,” Milo said. “Let me be the one to buy you an ale. And all I ask is the promise that you listen to what I have to say.”
Nick cringed. He hoped it wasn’t some religious stuff and nonsense. But for the huge payout he owed this man, he could listen to his blather for half an hour. After only three minutes he was ready to flee. The man was truly mad.
“I’m telling you it’s all true,” Milo said.
“You’re telling me I was involved with— married? To whose daughter?”
“It wasn’t yet a marriage.” Milo cleared his throat repeatedly. “Explaining it does no good. I’m terrible at giving accounts as simple as what I had for breakfast. But if you allow me, I can make you remember.”
All Nick wanted was to get out, never see that bird-witted madman again. But he looked at him with such intensity, Nick had been a little afraid.
“By all means, make me remember,” he said. They were in a tavern full of people. What could the man possibly do to harm him?
Milo squeezed the bridge of his own nose, then reached across the table and squeezed Nick’s. Before he could swat the grubby pincers away, he was overcome with a tidal wave of images. Not just images, no. They were accompanied by sounds and thoughts and feelings. They were memories. His memories!
When Milo released his nose, Nick dropped his forehead to the table, gasping. It was all he could do to keep from chucking his glass across the room he was so full of rage. He’d been humiliated, thwarted time and again. Every time he got up, he was knocked back down. And it was always by the same person. Tilly Jacobs.
He certainly remembered getting punched in the nose by the young chit. He rem
embered the way she mocked him when he went up to Scotland to try and make amends. Of course, he meant to try and steal her away from Ashford, use and discard her, but he was never been given a chance at that sweet revenge.
Those memories had only been from about a month past. What came next was what confused him. He’d been something like a king. Not of a great nation, more like a church congregation. He’d ruled over this moderately sized group of people and they did astounding things. And in those memories, the things they did were truly astonishing.
Heal the sick by a mere touch, change the weather with a flick of the wrist, see visions in bowls of water, travel through time. They used these amazing talents to accumulate great riches. Indeed, they lived in a huge mansion, surrounded by luxury. People came and went, bringing them gifts and bowing down to them.
He was a king, and at his side stood a queen. Oh, he recognized her all right. Tilly Jacobs. And somehow, just when he was about to have everything he ever desired, she stole it all away from him. He could still hear her mocking laughter in his mind as he rested his head against the table.
“Nonsense,” he gasped. “I don’t know what you did to me, but those can’t be my memories. The wee tartlet in them is firmly in love with my brother’s best friend.”
Milo looked disappointed and shook his head. “Did I do it wrong? Or were you so profoundly affected I can’t shake them loose properly?” He prattled on to himself for a few moments, finally sighing. “Ah, I see the confusion, but it wasn’t her you were with. It was her daughter. A powerful witch. Extremely powerful. Do you recall now?”
Nick would have stormed out. He was still inexplicably angry enough. Try as he might to tell himself it was all trickery and he had no real reason to be so enraged, he couldn’t calm down. He wanted vengeance and for more than just humiliating him at a ball and rejecting his advances. She’d taken … what? What had she taken? It was all nonsense. Not real. Except, he did seem to recall something on his own without the madman squeezing his nose.
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