Against the Magic

by Donna K. Weaver

Something Nellie had said earlier struck Reese. “You said you were a guardian of fae magic. You’re a faerie?”

  “Yes.”

  “A faerie godmother?” Reese asked, incredulous.

  “In a way, I suppose I fill that role on occasion.” Nellie smiled. “Because I always hold a ball on the full moon, we will be quite busy tonight. It will be an opportunity to introduce you to some of the local families. I also have some guests coming from London. A few will remain for a few days for a house party that will include my annual picnic next week.” Nellie peered at Reese in a disconcerting way. “The magic hints there could be someone in this time meant for you.”

  Reese raised her hands in a defensive motion, her stomach knotting. “You can’t tell the future, can you?

  “If you mean fortune telling, no.” The fae woman gave a smug little smile. “But it is no accident that you and your friends came to this time. The magic knows.”

  “You cannot fight against the magic,” Lulu whispered.

  “Watch me,” Reese said. “If it thinks to match me with a chauvinist, there’s no way.” She wasn’t going to be controlled.

  “I am sure a woman with your beauty and strength of character could tame even a rake,” Nellie said.

  Reese frowned at the faerie woman’s expression. It looked like she had a particular rake in mind?

  A rake. Really? Reese shuddered. It might be fun to read about redeeming one in a Regency romance, but the reality wasn’t pretty. The previous summer she had interned with a nonprofit health organization in a big city, where she’d learned just how rampant sexually-transmitted diseases were in the general population of modern-day America. In a time like this, before antibiotics, people could literally die of promiscuity.

  “These people are probably riddled with disease,” she said. “Do me a favor and don’t play matchmaker for me.”

  Nellie merely gave her a knowing smile. It reminded Reese of her mother when she tried to pretend she was all-knowing.

  “Lulu will complete your toilette. The ball will follow dinner.” Nellie nodded to the maid. “You have an hour.”

  Chapter 3

  “AUNT NELLIE WILL NOT APPROVE of you not wearing stays, miss.” Lulu held up the corset. “It’s not proper.”

  “I don’t need that,” Reese said through gritted teeth. “I have a six-pack.”

  “A six-pack, miss?”

  Reese pressed the fabric of the thin, cotton chemise against her abdomen to show the outline of her ab muscles. “No one will know I’m not wearing stays.” She had put up with that Regency straitjacket to make peace, but she was done changing who she was for others. She’d wouldn’t wear a corset again. Ever.

  Lulu pinched her lips, put it aside, and picked up a short slip. She stepped on a stool and raised it so Reese could duck into it. After a week in the immersion program in the 21st century immersion program, she had learned the knack of lifting her arms to protect her already styled hair.

  “Oh, miss, what happened here?” The maid pointed to the raw patch of skin on the ribs under Reese’s arm.

  “A corset. I’m too big in the bosom to wear the thing without tearing up my skin.”

  “I have something for that.” Lulu hurried into the dressing room and returned with a small bottle and a handkerchief. She sprinkled some pleasant-smelling liquid on the cloth. “Raise your arms, please. This is Aunt Nellie’s special medicine.”

  Reese did as she was told. As the cool liquid touched her raw skin, she gasped, but then the stinging disappeared, and she let out a sigh of relief.

  “What is that stuff?” She stepped to the mirror, her arms raised. Already the angry red skin had turned a calmer pink. “I wish I’d had some when I worked in a health clinic last summer.”

  “Aunt Nellie does not give out her potions.”

  “Potion, huh?” Reese turned around and found Lulu had picked up a new garment. Reese recognized it for a crinoline slip and stepped back, with visions of Scarlet O’Hara—but bouncing off people like those body ball things.

  “Miss,” Lulu said, her tone despairing, “please. Aunt Nellie says it will be more comfortable than wearing so many heavy petticoats.”

  “No hoops for me,” Reese said. “There are way too many fireplaces in this place. I have no intention of turning into a human torch. And I’ll only wear one of those frilly petticoats.” She indicated the three spread out on the bed.

  “Aunt Nellie will not approve, miss.”

  “Then tell her I have a headache and am going to bed early.” Reese folded her arms.

  The poor girl looked worried.

  “You won’t get in trouble.” Reese felt a little bad, but not enough to put her life at risk. “Hasn’t Nellie had problems with guests from the future before?”

  “Aye, miss, she has.”

  “All right, then,” Reese said. “This is nothing new. Let’s do this.”

  She suffered through the rest of the dressing. When the maid slid the burgundy top gown over the white, ruffled undergown, Reese couldn’t help being impressed with the workmanship. She couldn’t remember when the sewing machine had been invented, but the dress she wore was hand sewn.

  The maid went to work lacing the back. She cinched it so tight, Reese wondered if it was the girl’s passive-aggressive way of punishing her. Whatever.

  “See?” Reese asked when the maid had finished. “No one will know I don’t have a corset on.” She frowned at how deep the bodice’s V-neck went and tapped her cleavage. “Is there something you can do for this?”

  “I don’t understand, miss.”

  “I don’t want to show so much skin,” Reese said.

  “But, my lady, this style is all the rage, and you have the perfect figure for it. I know many young ladies who would wish for such a figure as yours.”

  “I don’t care. I get some coverage, or I don’t go.” If she had to be pigheaded about it, she would.

  “I will find a seamstress, miss.” The girl heaved an exaggerated sigh and left the room.

  Reese sat at the dressing table and waited. The servants certainly did drama just fine in 1850. She wondered if Lulu would ask to be assigned to someone else. Did servants of faerie guardians have more say than regular servants of this time?

  The door opened and the maid slipped in, followed by an older woman wearing an irritated expression and carrying a basket.

  “This is Davies, miss.” The maid gave a quick curtsy and stepped back.

  The short dressmaker strode forward with an in-control manner that reminded Reese of Edna Mode from the movie The Incredibles, minus the cigarette holder. Davies stopped in front of Reese and scrutinized the dress.

  “If you are here to acquire a husband,” she gave the sleeves a slight tug, exposing more of Reese’s shoulders, “you must display your womanly figure.”

  Reese tensed and had to bite back a retort. She took a deep breath and said in a level voice, “I’d have to wear a burka to hide my ‘womanly figure.’”

  “Burka?” Davies squinted at her, distracted from studying the dress.

  “It’s something some Muslim women wear.”

  “The Moors?” Davies made a disparaging sound. “Their ways are not our ways. In this house, we abide by Aunt Nellie’s wishes.”

  Reese explained about the problem with the neckline.

  Davies sent the maid a sharp glance, and the girl looked stricken. “A simple scarf would not do for a ball gown,” Lulu said, “and miss refuses to attend in the dress as it is.”

  “Blame me, not her,” Reese said.

  Davies pinched her lips but didn’t argue. From the basket, she removed a pretty length of white, layered lace about three inches wide. It had decorative baubles strategically placed along the edge and ribbon at the end. The dressmaker basted it in place above the neckline with quick movements before tying the ribbon in a small bow. She gave a little flick of her fingers, and some glittery dust flew off. A little tingle raced across Reese’s skin wherever it cam
e in contact with the lace.

  She touched the fabric and blinked at her reflection. The white lace had turned a darker shade of the same burgundy as in the gown.

  “How did you—” Reese’s stomach gave a little lurch. “You’re a faerie?”

  “Aye.” Davies put her tools back in the basket and left the room.

  Reese glanced at Lulu. “You too?”

  “Aye, miss. All the staff are. Mister Jem is waiting to escort you to dinner.”

  “Does he know some of our friends have arrived?” Reese had a lot of questions for him and wondered at his take on the whole magic story.

  “His man should have informed him.” The maid’s expression turned sly. “If I may make so bold as to say, he is a fine-looking gentleman.”

  “Yes, he is.” Reese wondered at the mixed messages she was getting from these fae women. The magic knew there might be a match for her with someone from this time, that she mustn’t fight against it. Yet here was Lulu making a not-so-subtle hint that Jem was eligible.

  “Miss, will you be wanting higher necks on all your gowns?”

  “Yes,” Reese said firmly. “I don’t need to draw attention to that part of my body.” It had irritated her when she had first started getting her curves that the guys who had just been friends before suddenly couldn’t keep their eyes off her chest. She’d smacked a few of them.

  “I do thank you for speaking up for me with Davies.” Lulu curtsied and opened the door.

  Reese took a deep breath and followed her from the room. Down the hallway, at the top of the stairs where the two wings met, Jem stood. He glanced their way, and his expression turned appreciative, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

  She felt a mixture of emotions, relief at seeing him again, but also pleasure at his approval. It troubled her that he had the power to do that. Still. This whole situation was going to make her crazy, forcing her to rely on him like never before, all the while trying to keep from falling for him again. She would not make the mistake her mother had and get involved with an actor who would just ditch her when she bored him.

  Reese and Jem used to be good friends. Surely, they could be friends again. Only friends.

  “I thought the gown you wore to the Regency ball was pretty amazing,” he said as she approached, “but this one looks like it was made for you.”

  “It must be the magic,” she said, pretending his compliment meant nothing to her. “That’s what brought us here, isn’t it?”

  “Jem! Reese!” Kaitlyn’s voice cried from behind them, and they spun around.

  Reese blinked her eyes at the sight of her friend, who lifted her skirt and ran toward them. Kaitlyn threw her arms around them both.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” she said. “Have you seen Cora?”

  “Not yet,” Jem said. “Where’s Cyrus?”

  “He’s coming, but he’s not very happy.” She clapped her hands. “Isn’t this amazing? We’re really in the past. I’m so excited.”

  “Miss,” Lulu said from behind them, “you need to make haste or you will be late for the dinner.”

  “I’ll wait for Cyrus,” Kaitlyn said. “You two go ahead. My maid said our seating assignments aren’t together anyway.”

  “We need to talk,” Jem said.

  “Don’t worry; we will. From what Nellie said, we’ll be here for a while. We’ll have lots of time to talk this whole thing to death.” She grinned and looked about to squee with happiness.

  Jem gave his sister a quick peck on the cheek before offering his arm to Reese. She took it and lifted her skirts to navigate the stairs.

  “I never thought I’d be so glad to see her,” he said.

  “Same here. Now if we just knew Cora is safe.”

  Jem patted Reese’s hand on the crook of his arm and didn’t remove it. She might have a chance to ignore how nice it felt if his touch didn’t compete with that second shot of tonic for the amount of electricity it sent along her nerves.

  “Did they give you some of that tea?” she asked.

  “That stuff was scary good. Do you think Nellie would let us have the recipe to take back home?” He winked at her. “We’d make a fortune.”

  “Lulu said Nellie never shares her potions,” Reese said. “Besides, I wonder what price a faerie would ask. I don’t think it’d be money.”

  “You have a point.” Jem’s expression turned contemplative, but then he grinned. “I guess we should find out what that price is before asking Nellie for the recipe.”

  The gleam of humor in his eyes reminded her so much of when they were children that it lightened her mood. An image flashed through her mind of the two of them in stealth mode, sneaking into Nellie’s office to pilfer contraband potions. She smiled.

  “That’s better.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Know what’s kept me going today?”

  “What?”

  “Wondering how the future Nellie would account for five missing guests.”

  “Didn’t you ask her about that?” Reese lowered her voice. “She said we’ll return at the same time we left.”

  “Good.” He nodded toward the footman opening a door where many people were sitting at a long table. Jem said softly, “That gives me more confidence that she’ll be able to send us home. We can’t get back on our own.”

  The rightness of his words struck Reese. This was a situation where she had absolutely no control. As much as she might hate it, she could at least accept that she had the choice—make herself ill worrying about it, or adopt Jem’s attitude. How often over the years had his level attitude stabilized her in a tough situation?

  They entered the dining room, and a servant indicated two chairs. Reese and Jem took them.

  “I have such a surprise in store for all of you,” Nellie said from her seat at the head of the long table. “My guests from America are here early, though one arrived later than the others and will only join us for the ball.” She shot Reese a meaningful look.

  Cora had arrived. Reese heaved a sigh of relief. What weird magic that it would pull them all back in time but not together.

  While Nellie was introducing the other people at the table, Kaitlyn and Cyrus slipped into the last two empty seats. She had been right. He did not look happy.

  “The ladies are all heiresses here to seek advantageous marriages,” Nellie said with that familiar twinkle in her eyes as she met Reese’s angry gaze for a second, “and even the gentlemen are eligible. Now, please, everyone enjoy your meal and the fine company.” She signaled the staff to begin serving.

  The guests gave them considering nods.

  “So, she’s dragging me and Cyrus into this too, huh?” Jem muttered.

  Reese had to fight back a laugh.

  “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife,” she quoted from Pride and Prejudice, shooting him a sly glance.

  “Touché.” The corner of his mouth quirked up.

  ***

  “Remember not to eat too much from each course,” Jem whispered.

  “Yeah.” Reese would never forget that first Regency immersion meal when she had done just that. She had enjoyed too much from the earlier courses and had thought she’d burst out of her corset when the servants kept bringing more food.

  “I don’t know if you caught the introductions when we entered,” Jem said more loudly. “Lady Ellen Hildebrand, may I introduce my cousin Miss Clarisse Hamilton to you?”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hamilton.” Lady Ellen gave a shy nod.

  “Same here,” Reese said. “Lady? I’m guessing someone in your family has a title.”

  “My older brother is the sixth Earl of Kellworth,” she said.

  “Is he here with you?” Reese asked.

  “He is still in London for parliament,” Lady Ellen said.

  “House of Lords, I imagine,” Jem said.

  “Yes. I am quite interested in learning more about America, though,”
Ellen said. “It seems such a wild and rough place, with the natives killing settlers.”

  “It can be wild and rough, and not just in the US.” Reese exchanged a glance with Jem but didn’t say anymore. “My cousin is interested in learning how to speak the various English dialects. He finds the study of language to be fascinating. He hopes someday to be . . .” She seemed to search her mind, and then got a wicked grin. “I believe thespian is the term for what he’s interested in.”

  Lady Ellen gave a little gasp. “The stage?”

  “Do let me explain,” Jem said. “Where we come from, being an actor is a reputable profession. Consider your own Shakespeare.”

  “Well, yes,” Lady Ellen said. “Though I do believe even Shakespeare might not be acceptable to the Ton.”

  “Some of the hypocrisy of this time,” Reese said. When a hurt look crossed Lady Ellen’s face, Reese mumbled, “Sorry. I have a tendency to be rather plainspoken.”

  Jem snorted, and Reese shot him a quick scowl, but he could tell she wasn’t angry.

  “Mr. Taylor, are you mocking your cousin?” Ellen asked, her expression disapproving.

  “It was not my intent to mock, but Miss Clarisse has a reputation for being a tiger when she fights for a cause,” he said. “Calling herself plainspoken is an understatement.”

  “A tiger.” Lady Ellen’s expression turned dreamy. “I would love for someone to describe me as fighting like a tiger. It seems so forceful and exotic.”

  “That’s kind of you,” Reese said. “Unfortunately, in some places, like a fine dinner party,” she glanced around at the other guests, “many people would not consider it quite the thing. Another reason I look forward to going home.”

  “Oh, are you returning to America soon?” Lady Ellen looked disappointed. “It is such a long trip, and—” She broke off and dropped her gaze, blushing.

  “And I haven’t found a husband yet?” Reese asked, her tone dry. “Don’t worry about offending me by mentioning my single state. Where we come from, women don’t marry as young as they do here.”

  “Where in America do you live?” Lady Ellen looked up.

  “Ohio,” Jem said.

  “We attended the university there,” Reese added.