by Shady Grace
Doctor Crumpler walked down the brick path leading from the front door. Warden sighed deeply, grateful the good doctor took the time for him. She was one of the best around and hard to reach.
Maybe Millicent simply needed rest. He knew she would not want people hanging over her, so, with his mind made up, he disappeared to the study. He closed the door behind him, immediately going to the cabinet where he stored his finest liquor.
Pouring a healthy measure of scotch, he then swirled the drink, losing himself in the rich amber liquid. He swallowed the first shot quickly, relishing the searing path it tore down his throat, and then poured another before taking a seat at his desk.
He thumbed through the paperwork, unable to concentrate on any particular task. His accounts needed settling, and the business needed his attention, but he kept returning to the conversation he and Millicent had in the parlor before she swooned. She looked genuinely surprised when he called her Mrs. Blackwood. Then she asked where she was. Her behavior had been very strange. And that was just another reason to go ahead with his plans.
After months of marriage and only one night in her bed, on the night they spoke their vows, he was beyond restless. That was the only night he shared with her before she ordered the staff to prepare a separate bedchamber for him.
How long should a man have to wait for intimacy? In the beginning, when Bromley suggested Warden take a mistress, he had scoffed at the idea. Now…
He reached into his pocket and retrieved the note Bromley discreetly passed him during their card game. It listed the name and address of Vivian St. Claire, the actress. He knew of her, and she knew of him. The woman had made it very clear in the past, before he married Millicent, that she would enjoy his nightly acquaintance. Tall and thin with hair black as night and dark brown eyes—she was the complete opposite of his wife.
Should he seek her out? Could he bed another woman while married? He sure as hell could not force his pleasure on his wife.
And he was damn tired of masturbating.
Finishing the second drink, he poured another, and another, until the answer came to him. He would slake his needs and be done with it.
He called on Samson to bring his driver round posthaste. He would be quick about it before his lust consumed him. If his wife would not have him, another would.
“The guests have departed, sir. Josephine informed them the mistress was abed and you had business to attend to.”
“Very good, Samson. That is all.”
Samson cleared his throat and withdrew something from behind his back. “One of the maids found this in the parlor, sir.”
Warden frowned, staring at the gift he had purchased for his wife. A special gift acquired from a gypsy elder. “What was it doing in the parlor?”
“I haven’t the slightest clue, sir. It was found near the refreshment table.”
Warden gestured for the butler to set it down on his desk. “I’m going out. Inform my wife not to wait up for me. I’m sure she needs her rest.”
“Of course, sir. If I may inquire, will she be all right?”
Warden glanced at the amethyst ball and frowned. Within the glass, a strange thing occurred. Tiny purple sparks ignited in the center and then disappeared. He closed his eyes and opened them again. Perhaps he’d had more scotch than he thought.
“I don’t know, Samson. Only time will tell.”
Chapter 2
Milli lay as stiff as a board, afraid of what would come next. After the doctor waved that foul-smelling shit under her nose, she decided to close her eyes and pretend to be asleep. What a horrible way to wake up a second time, after waking up the first time in an alien world.
Who are these people, and why do they look like they just walked off the set of Sense and Sensibility?
One moment she stood alone in her kitchen with that stupid amethyst ball, and the next, in a dim living room surrounded by women in big, puffy dresses and just-as-big hair. Their faces were pale, and they spoke like actors from historical movies. Maybe this wasn’t Sense and Sensibility. Maybe she was trapped in Much Ado About Nothing.
Her stomach turned, and her mind spun with questions. How could this happen? Am I stuck in some crazy dream?
A sharp tap on the door snapped her back to the moment. She glanced at the door.
“Millicent? It’s me…Josephine.”
Milli didn’t answer. How did they know her name? She wasn’t ready to see more strangers. She held her breath, hoping the woman would leave, but just as she feared, the door creaked open. A young woman walked in, her face drawn tight with worry, her hand touching her extremely pregnant belly.
Milli did a double take. The woman, Josephine, looked so much like her it was impossible. Though the woman’s hair was a darker blonde and she had freckles, her facial structure, green eyes, and small mouth looked exactly like her own.
“How are you feeling, dear sister?”
Sister? “What are you talking about? I don’t know you.”
The woman halted, her expression shocked. “My goodness. Warden told me you were ill, but I never imagined this.”
Tears welled in Milli’s eyes. How was it possible for these people to know her and recognize her when she had no clue who they were? “Why am I here? Is this some joke? Did Mr. Bigsby set you up to this?”
Josephine frowned, clearly unaware of her meaning. “I’m not familiar with a Mr. Bigsby. Is he a new acquaintance of yours?”
“The old fart’s been living beside me for five years.”
Josephine raised a brow. “I see. Well…”
Milli looked around the room again, ignoring Josephine’s quizzical stare. This couldn’t be her home in Boston, could it? Though the décor was vastly different, the layout, windows, and crown molding looked the same. The bedroom walls were papered in some gaudy floral pattern—not clean, white walls. Thick, heavy curtains flanked tall windows—not sheer panels like the ones she had. The bed was covered in another big floral pattern, similar to the walls. Even the bedposts had fancy carvings on them.
Am I in the past?
She felt like she was trapped on a movie set, and everyone was playing a role, but she was the only one without direction.
Everything was foreign. “Whose house is this?”
Josephine chuckled under her breath, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I should hope it is yours or you could be arrested.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Josephine’s jaw dropped, and her face paled. “You really are not well, Millicent. Why are you talking in such a foul manner?”
Nobody but her close friends ever called her Millicent. The fact that this woman, and the man who carried her to this room, called her by her full name was alarming. Fighting back unwanted tears, she had no words to say. What if she really was in the past? But what brought her here? That amethyst ball? The thought was so absurd it was laughable.
The mattress dipped as Josephine leaned closer. She took Milli’s hands in hers. “I know sometimes men and women have a shock to their body or their mind, but I never thought it would happen to you. You are a strong woman, Millicent, and I have always looked up to you. Even when father used to say you were more trouble than he could handle, I still envied you.”
“I don’t know what you mean. This can’t be real. You can’t be real.” She stared hard at Josephine. “I don’t have a father. Never did. He left my mother when she became pregnant, and then she gave me up for adoption. I don’t know how you know me, or why you’re wearing that ridiculous dress, but I’m not who you think I am.”
Josephine’s back straightened. “Ridiculous dress?” She blew out an exasperated breath. “It used to be your favorite. In fact, you wanted to claim it as your own. However, that is beside the point. Now, I do not know what happened to you, but you must get a hold of yourself. Do you not know what they do to people who go mad?”
“I’m not mad!”
She continued undaunted. “They lock you up in an i
nstitution, that is what they do. I will not have it.” Tears glistened in her angry eyes. “I cannot see you waste away in one of those places.”
“I think you need to calm down,” Milli said, annoyed. “Why are you crying? You’re not the one stuck here.”
Josephine shook her head, apparently shrugging off Milli’s statement. She breathed deeply and rubbed her enormous belly before looking back. “Did you drink something strange tonight?”
“Besides the tequila and fuzzy navels at the Golden Dragon? No.”
Josephine’s brows rose, either in confusion or amusement, then she sighed in defeat. “Did you fall then?”
Milli thought back to her blackout in the kitchen. “I guess you could say I did.”
“Then you must have hit your head. That settles it then. You have simply got a concussion and need your rest.” She seemed pleased by her conclusion and visibly relaxed. Milli decided to leave it at that.
Admitting the truth wouldn’t get her anything, least of all any empathy. No more than an hour ago she had been lying in the bushes along her walkway, feeling sorry for herself and her lonely existence. Now, she supposedly had a sister, a home with ugly wallpaper, and some sexy guy carrying her…
“We will take care of you, love.”
“We?”
Josephine’s smile was teasing. “Well, I cannot do it alone, of course. The baby is due soon, and I have a home and husband of my own to manage. I will talk with Warden tomorrow morning. Perhaps he can move back in here to keep a closer eye on you.”
“What do you mean, move back in here?”
“Well, he is your husband after all. Why should he not share your bed?”
Husband? Oh, shit.
She couldn’t describe the emotion that welled up inside her. For years she’d dreamt of having a family. Now, somehow shoved back in time—if that was the case—she supposedly had everything she wanted most. And it didn’t hurt that Warden was sexy as hell, but husband?
None of this made any sense. What if her life in modern Boston was the dream and this was reality? What if touching that amethyst ball gave her a new life? She blew out a shaky breath, determined not to cry. She was a tough woman who grew up in foster care without love or companionship, and she’d get through this, too.
Think of the write-up she could do on a story like this. She imagined the headlines now. Modern woman awakens in petticoat junction.
“What time is it? I mean, what year is it?”
“It is the spring of 1889.” Josephine swept her hand over Milli’s clammy forehead and looked at her with genuine love and concern. “Everything will be fine. You will see, dear sister.”
Everything will not be fine. If she weren’t a modern woman with knowledge and brains and experience, she might’ve believed her. But this was not a movie where everything worked out in the end. This was her life, but until she learned what had happened to her tonight, and what to do about it, she had to humor these people, and be whoever they wanted her to be…in 1889.
* * * *
Early the next morning Milli crawled out of bed, feeling like she had jet lag. Mid-stretch, she paused, realizing the floral-printed walls still surrounded her. You gotta be kidding me…
The events of the previous night rushed through her mind—receiving that amethyst ball, which was addressed to a Mrs. Millicent Blackwood…and then blacking out and becoming the Mrs. Blackwood. She never would’ve believed in a million years something like this could really happen.
Maybe Back to the Future was based on real-life events.
Resigned to accept this strange situation, she wandered over to the bedroom window and peered outside. The stormy sky cast a dismal, gray view of what lay beyond the glass, yet the backyard reminded her of a garden straight out of a magazine. A brick footpath circled around a fountain, and flowers and bushes lined the borders of the property. Beyond the yard she could see other row houses, smoke swirling out of their chimneys. And then it hit her. This was Beacon Hill in a time far gone. A time when horses pulled carriages and women were repressed.
Beacon Hill was a historical district of Boston. In the future, securing a home there was like winning the lottery. Fortunately for her, the house she lived in was an inheritance from a biological family member she had never met.
Did this mean she was actually in her own home? That would explain why the room looked so familiar, only decorated differently.
She pondered what to do with herself, never mind how she should carry on this morning. Although going back to bed seemed like the most appealing thing to do, she decided to find a cup of coffee and take a look around. She needed to find a way to get back to the future. Back to home. Back to regular, familiar life.
Padding down the hallway and stairs in her bare feet, she was able to take in the house in the light of morning.
The walls of the main floor hallway were painted a vivid green, covered with numerous paintings and the familiar crown molding. Every available space had something hanging from or sitting on it. She passed a set of sliding doors into the first living room. She vaguely remembered that Warden had carried her upstairs from here. Then she came to the next room.
The sliding doors were pushed back into the wall, revealing a huge second living room. Milli took a cautious step inside, amazed by what she saw. The room was crammed with various knickknacks, distinctly Victorian. Based on research she’d done in the past for one of her write-ups, people of wealth in this era showed off what they owned and ended up cramming everything they could into every available space. Floral patterns covered just about everything, along with bright reds, yellows, and greens.
The walls were a deep red in this room, again covered with paintings and thick, heavy curtains flanked the windows. Tables with vases of fresh flowers filled every corner. Sofas and chairs with matching floral upholstery and pillows filled the middle of the floor. Rugs of every color and pattern covered the hardwood floors. Even the mantle above the fireplace was littered with trinkets.
She could get lost in this room. This was the period of clutter, and, if she remembered correctly, strict manners. Not something a woman like her would ever be comfortable with.
Just as she was about to find the kitchen, she heard a gasp behind her. Milli swung around and found a wide-eyed maid standing on the threshold. A feather duster shook in her pale hand.
“Is there any coffee around here?” Milli asked, trying her best to appear calm and collected, as though she was a true part of this household.
The maid let out a screech and then scurried from the room.
“Hey! Where are you going?” Milli chased after her and darted into the hallway, but the servant had disappeared. What was that all about?
Agitated over the lack of coffee around here, and the fact that she woke up out of her element, Milli let out an exasperated sigh and decided to continue down the hall instead of chasing after the maid.
A door at the end of the hall swung open, and the butler from last night appeared, carrying a silver tray. He paused mid-step when he noticed her. Now that she had a good look at him, he reminded her of the Quaker Oats guy.
Milli smiled awkwardly, not quite sure how to handle herself. “Good morning.”
He cleared his throat. “Good morning, Madam.” He averted his gaze, looking uncomfortable. He seemed bent on staring at the wall instead of her. “May I suggest a maid attend you?”
“Attend me for what? I just want a cup of coffee.”
“Millicent, what in God’s name are you doing?”
Her back stiffened. She turned around, coming face-to-face with her…husband…and the maid who ran away from her. “What?”
The corner of his sexy mouth tipped up. “A lady should be dressed in public.”
“I’m in my pajamas.” She stared down at the lacy thing she’d found in a dresser and frowned. Is this not a pajama? She planted her fists on her hips and looked back up at him, lifting her chin defiantly. “Besides, how is being at home being in publi
c?”
Awkward silence rifted between them.
“I told you she went and got insane,” the maid fiercely whispered to Warden.
Milli was just about to argue with the woman when the butler spoke up from behind her. “Mrs. Blackwood is still under the weather, Mary. Make yourself useful, and assist her up to her chamber.” He turned to Milli and smiled. “Coffee will be served after breakfast, Madam.”
“That doesn’t make any sense—”
“I will take my wife to her room,” Warden cut in. “We have some matters to discuss.”
Warden lifted his arm for her, his eyes sharp. The way he stared down at her made Milli nervous. Was coffee that big of an issue around here or did he figure out she wasn’t really his wife? Whatever the case, she accepted his arm and fell into step beside him. She may not know this guy any more than a hole in the ground, but she had to rely on someone.
He was so tall. So broad. Being next to him made her feel like a little person, and it was kind of a turn-on. Big guys had always attracted her. Knowing he could easily pick her up and carry her to bed, or make love to her with nothing but the power of his tree-trunk legs for support, sent a hot shiver up her spine. And all that wavy black hair and the brooding gray eyes only added to his allure.
What the hell am I thinking? The guy’s a stranger.
“I just wanted a coffee,” Milli said quietly, feeling completely defeated.
“The bell pull in your room is there for a reason,” Warden murmured.
“And what reason would that be?”
He chuckled and looked down at her, his sexy eyes glinting. “To order maid service. You’ve never had an issue ordering your staff around before.”
What was that supposed to mean? Obviously she’d taken the place of his real wife, but did it mean she replaced a cold-hearted bitch? Did the old Mrs. Blackwood rule this house with an iron fist? Did she mistreat the servants? She didn’t even know what it was like to have someone else wash her dishes, never mind have a servant attend her.
They reached the stairs. Milli cut Warden off before he could ascend. “I’ll get dressed on my own, thank you.” When she turned and faced him, fixing him with her best, coy smile, he visibly swallowed. “Maybe I should order you to my room later.”
