Under An English Moon

by Bess McBride

  A gasp from the direction of the bed behind Reggie caught his attention, and he turned. Phoebe sat up in bed staring at him. She touched a lamp next to the bed, and a soft glow filled the room.

  Annie opened the door wider, and stepped in, surveying the room with a quick glance.

  “Did you sleep there, Reggie?” she asked.

  Reggie jumped up. Had he fallen asleep and slept the night through?

  “I am not certain,” he began. “I only sat for a moment.”

  “What is that on the floor? Is that a bed?”

  Phoebe scrambled from the bed and came to stand beside him. She took his hand in hers. Reggie dropped his eyes to her sleeping garment—a scanty blouse with straps and pink trousers of some sort. He looked away hastily.

  “Yes, he did. When I came out of the shower, he was asleep on the ottoman, and I didn’t want to wake him up to go to bed.”

  Annie tilted her head to one side as if she did not believe Phoebe’s story, which was indeed probably the nearest thing to the truth either of them had told her cousin.

  “But what’s that on the floor?”

  “Ah! My back pained me last night, and I did not think I would be able to sleep upon the luxurious mattress,” Reggie offered. Phoebe squeezed his hand, and he thought he had done well.

  “Well, I’m sorry to bust in on you guys like this, but I’m filthy. I really needed a shower. My clock’s off, and my body is on Switzerland time.” She scrutinized a bracelet on her arm. “It’s almost seven o’clock. I hoped I wasn’t too early.”

  “No, no,” Phoebe said. She kept hold of Reggie’s hand, and he minded not one bit.

  “Okay, well. I’m going to go shower.” Annie moved into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

  Phoebe dropped Reggie’s hand as if he were a leper. Had he said something amiss? Again?

  “Sorry about that. I just thought I should grab your hand since we’re supposed to be a couple.”

  Had she thought he was displeased? That he did not care for her touch? Nothing could be further from the truth.

  “Phoebe...” Reggie began with a thought to speak his mind.

  “No problem,” she said. “I’ll probably have to grab you a few more times while Annie is here, but it’s for a good reason.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “When I came out of the shower last night, you were passed out on the ottoman there, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you. So, basically you slept there all night. Does your back really hurt?”

  “Not at all. I thought that a plausible excuse for the bedding on the floor.”

  “That was good!” Phoebe smiled. “Well, why don’t you use the bathroom in the living room while I get dressed? I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Reggie inclined his head. “As you wish.” He did not know if he could get used to being directed about like a child—especially regarding matters of hygiene. As he had said, he was a babe in the woods, but that did not mean he relished being mothered at his age.

  He put it from his mind at the moment and refreshed himself in the small washroom as Phoebe had suggested, an interesting room to be sure, much like a closet and containing many of the fixtures of the larger bathroom but without the “shower,” which he absolutely delighted in. He regarded his hair, mourning the absence of a comb, and he attempted to bring it under control with his fingers and a bit of water. The wilted state of his cravat was mortifying, and he knew an urgent desire to find a men’s establishment and acquire fresh clothing. This morning, Phoebe had said. There was nothing he could do meanwhile but hold his head high and appear not to notice the certain stares of passersby on the street as they beheld his wretched appearance.

  A quick glance at his boots reminded him they were dusty from the road, and he reached for the paper which Phoebe had called “toilet paper” to dust them off. He must acquire boot black. Reggie searched for a waste bin in which to discard the paper but could find none. He eyed the toilet with interest. Phoebe had indicated the paper should be used for that purpose. Tossing the paper into the bowl, he pushed the handle, let loose the water, and watched the paper seemingly dissolve and disappear. Curiously, he pushed the handle again to see if it would reappear, but it did not. Fascinating!

  A tap on the door startled him, and he jerked upright as if he had been caught doing something he should not.

  “Are you okay in there, Reggie?” Phoebe called through the door.

  “Yes,” Reggie called. He tugged at his waistcoat, gave himself one last glance in the mirror and opened the door. Phoebe awaited him with a cup of coffee in her hand. He noted she wore a colorful blouse with short sleeves ending above her elbows. Her lower limbs were encased in what appeared to be a pair of dark blue men’s trousers, as form-fitting as his own. She wore Roman-style sandals upon her feet. He took a deep breath and kept his eyes upon her face and way from her limbs.

  “I used the paper to remove the dust from my boots. I hope that was acceptable,” he said solemnly.

  Phoebe laughed then covered her mouth as he frowned. “Ummm...yup...that’s fine. You would probably like a shoeshine today, wouldn’t you? I don’t know where they do that anymore except at the train station.” She assessed his Hessians frankly. “We’ll probably have to get you some different shoes today. Those are very attractive, but they’re just different.”

  He looked down at his boots. “Different?”

  Phoebe shook her head and offered him the coffee. “I can’t explain it. Just different. The tassels. Probably not.”

  Reggie lifted his chin and clasped his hands behind his back. “These are very expensive boots, Miss Warner, from the finest bootmaker in London.”

  “Uh oh, you’re calling me Miss Warner again. That’s not good.” Phoebe sighed, and Reggie relented and took the coffee from her. “They are great-looking boots, Reggie, but you’re not going to be able to wear them with our modern clothing. I’m sorry.”

  Reggie dipped his head. “It is I who must apologize, Phoebe. I am being missish. You must think me quite the dandy. The truth is that appearance is very important where I come from, and any deviation from the accepted standards subjects one to public ridicule.”

  “I know, Reggie.” She moved toward the kitchen, and Reggie followed.

  “But how can you know?”

  “Books, Reggie, lots and lots of books, some of them written by authors of your time discussing the customs and traditions of the early nineteenth century.” She poured a cup of coffee and set another to brew, presumably for her cousin.

  “I would be most interested in reading some of these books. To hear my time referred to as the ‘early nineteenth century’ or the ‘late Georgian era’ sounds so strange.”

  “Good morning, everyone,” Annie said as she emerged from the bedroom. “Any coffee for me?” She approached the kitchen dressed in clothing similar to Phoebe’s, and Reggie supposed they wore the equivalent of morning gowns, such as those his stepmother wore at home.

  Phoebe handed her cousin a cup of coffee.

  “Morning,” she murmured.

  Reggie bowed. “Good morning.”

  “I love that bowing, Reggie. Did you spend time in Europe? It seems to be more of an old-fashioned Continental trait than British.”

  “I have traveled the Continent,” he replied with a quick look in Phoebe’s direction.

  “Well!” Phoebe intervened. “Shall go out to eat for breakfast before shopping? I really don’t have anything here.” She addressed herself to Annie with a shrug.

  Annie cocked her head.

  “Are you going out in that getup, Reggie?”

  Reggie stiffened. What in the infernal blazes was amiss with his clothing other than it was no doubt somewhat dated?

  “And are you going out in that ‘getup,’ might I also ask?”

  Chapter Five

  “Reggie!” Phoebe sputtered. She couldn’t help laughing, although acutely aware that she needed to calm the tension between Reggie and Annie, who looked very irate.<
br />
  “Forgive me,” Reggie bowed almost immediately. “I cannot believe I spoke in such a manner. Forgive me, Miss Warner.”

  “Which one?” Annie said with narrowed eyes.

  “Both of you as you are so similarly dressed.”

  “Okay, Reggie, enough teasing now,” Phoebe urged. “You know very well that these jeans are my favorite pair, and I wear jeans everywhere.” She turned to Annie. “He’s just teasing, Annie, really.”

  “Yes, of course, I jest.” Reggie’s serious expression didn’t look like he had been jesting, but short of tickling him, Phoebe didn’t know what else she could do to put a smile on his face to soften the moment.

  Poor Annie, she thought. The sooner she headed off to Hawaii, the better off they would all be. Phoebe regretted that Annie had invited herself along on the shopping expedition, but there was nothing she could do. Had Reggie not appeared, Phoebe would have set herself to pampering and soothing Annie’s broken heart, but she simply had her hands full with Reggie.

  “Well, I’m sorry if I sounded like I was insulting your clothing. Why are you wearing it, by the way?”

  Annie never could leave well enough alone, Phoebe sighed inwardly. She improvised.

  “That’s what he’s going to wear on his photo shoot today, which he has to do before we go shopping. I forgot about that.” She checked her watch for no reason at all other than it helped her focus on her lame story. “So, I’ve got to run him over to my office this morning fairly early. In fact, I wonder if we shouldn’t head over there now so we’re not late. We could meet you for breakfast after the shoot? Say in about an hour?”

  Annie wasn’t buying the story, and Phoebe didn’t blame her. Reggie watched them but said nothing.

  “A photo shoot at the publishing house? Do they do that? I thought that would be done in a studio? Uploaded online?”

  “Special deal with this cover. The author wants to approve it, has that written into her contract, so the photographer is coming over to our place. Really complicated, too complicated to explain.” Phoebe put a hand behind Reggie’s back as if to urge him to the door. “Where do you want to meet? Charlie’s Place down the street?”

  She took Reggie’s hand to pull him toward the door, grabbing her bag along the way. Reggie picked up his top hat from the hall table and settled it on his head. Phoebe rolled her eyes. He would definitely stand out in the top hat. Well, maybe someone would think he was a doorman or something.

  “Okay, see you in about an hour then!” Phoebe called out without turning around. She opened the door and pulled Reggie through, not an easy task given his much larger size.

  She pulled the door shut and turned with a finger to her lips when Reggie opened his mouth to speak.

  “Wait till we get downstairs,” she whispered. She dragged him down the hall toward the elevator, with Reggie lagging somewhat as he turned this way and that to study the hall. Right! He’d never even been outside of the apartment.

  Phoebe stopped in front of the elevator. “Okay, Reggie,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I’m sorry about all that. I don’t think Annie believed me one bit, but I couldn’t come up with anything else at the moment. Hello?” She looked up at him. Reggie seemed not to hear her as he ran his fingers along the shining steel of the elevator doors and over the lighted button she had pushed.

  “This is the elevator I mentioned last night. We’re in a tall building, and this carries us up and down the floors. By a cable,” Phoebe added.

  “There are no stairs?” Reggie asked.

  “Well, yes, but we’re on the fifteenth floor. That’s a lot of climbing everyday.”

  “Fifteen floors?” he murmured with a shake of his head.

  “The elevator is slow,” Phoebe added with a sigh as she looked beyond him to assure herself that Annie wasn’t following or setting out from the apartment herself at the same time.

  A ding announced the arrival of the elevator, and the doors slid open. Reggie jumped back, startled.

  Phoebe grabbed his hand again. “Come on. You’ll get used to all of this, you really will, Reggie.”

  Reggie allowed himself to be led inside the elevator, keeping one eye on Phoebe and a wary eye on the door as it shut behind them. He grabbed the rail as the elevator began to move, and Phoebe was grateful he couldn’t see the actual motion of the elevator.

  The realization of the complications inherent in taking care of this tall, handsome and very lost young man started to weigh on her. How could she possibly keep him safe, educate him in modern ways, even clothe and feed him? She had no experience with children, had never been called upon to babysit. Not that he was a child, of course, but she couldn’t help worrying about him as a mother might a child—as her mother did about her. The quintessential worrying mother of an only child, Minerva Warner never left her daughter any doubt that she loved her more than anyone else in the world, and Phoebe missed her terribly. The prospect of being a single mother of a one-year-old infant in those days must have been daunting, but her mother had risen to the challenge and been both father and mother to her, albeit with a more watchful eye than some of the other parents in their Midwestern neighborhood.

  Phoebe suspected she was channeling some of her mother’s anxieties at the moment, but knowing that didn’t help her wonder how she was going to take care of Reggie.

  The elevator arrived at the ground floor, and Phoebe took a deep breath as she waited for the slow doors to open. Past the doorman they would go, and out into the street. Her immediate plan was to take Reggie to a store right away and get him some clothes before they met Annie for breakfast...so they could go shopping again. She looked up at Reggie, hoping he was an easygoing man who wouldn’t fault her for coming up with such a harebrained scheme just to deceive Annie.

  Reggie caught her eye and gave her a smile as if somehow reading her anxiety.

  “Ready?” she asked as she took his hand again. She quite enjoyed this part of taking care of him—the touching.

  Reggie surprised her by tucking her hand between the crook of his elbow and his side.

  “It is only proper that I offer my arm to you, Miss Warner, and I am pleased to do so.”

  Phoebe blushed, feeling a bit like a gal in one of her romance novels, but she said nothing. The doors finally opened, and they entered the lobby. Tim was off as it was Saturday, but a middle-aged tall and thin man in a gray uniform greeted them.

  “Good morning, Miss Warner, how are you today?” He held open the door for them, but Phoebe paused for a moment. No time like the present to introduce Reggie to the doorman.

  “Hi George, good morning. Ummm... George, this is Reggie Hamilton. Reggie is going to be staying with me for a while...maybe a long while.” Phoebe avoided Reggie’s eyes. She didn’t think she could bear to see him protest “Oh, no, not a long while. No, no.”

  “Welcome, Mr. Hamilton.” George nodded and smiled.

  “Thank you, George,” Reggie said with a regal air as he inclined his head.

  If George had any thoughts about Reggie’s clothes, he never let on.

  “Thank you, George,” Phoebe said. She sashayed out the door on Reggie’s arm but was brought up short by Reggie, who stopped and stared.

  “Pon my word, Phoebe. Where on earth are we? Is that a horseless conveyance?”

  Phoebe surveyed the street in front of her apartment building, trying to see it through his eyes. It was relatively quiet for a Saturday morning, with cars parked along the curbs on both sides of the street. Small city-size trees dotted the otherwise neutral gray concrete landscape. A passenger car meandered down the street.

  “New York City, Reggie. And yes, that is most definitely horseless. We call it a car. You’ll probably get a chance to ride in one, a taxi...if you’re here long enough.” Phoebe heard her voice drop on the last words.

  She looked up at Reggie to see him busily scanning the street, probably trying to comprehend everything. She wasn’t sure what she would do or how she would fee
l had she been the one who traveled to the twenty-first century. Luckily, he hadn’t heard the wistful note in her voice. She plastered a smile on her face, promising herself to make his visit a pleasant one.

  “I think we should get moving just in case Annie comes out. So, the immediate plan is to get you to a store, find some clothes, and get you dressed before we meet Annie for breakfast. I’ll have to give you some sort of scenario for this supposed photo shoot that I lied about.” Phoebe tugged at Reggie’s arm. “Reggie? Are you listening? Come on, you can stare while we walk down the street.”

  Reggie dropped his bemused eyes to her face and nodded.

  “Is life always so complicated for you, Phoebe?”

  Phoebe laughed. “No, no. I lead a very dull life. That’s why I’m not very good at this subterfuge thing.”

  “Let us proceed then. I put myself in your hands for the time being.”

  While they walked in the direction of Sinclair Publishing—and some stores—they discussed how best to convince Annie that Reggie had gone to her office for a photo shoot. Or at least Phoebe discussed and Reggie listened with half an ear while studying his surroundings with wide eyes.

  “Reggie, are you listening?” she asked, feeling much like a long-time couple with her hand in his arm and asking the age-old question that women always would.

  “Yes, yes, I am. Well, I am attempting to listen,” he muttered. “What in blazes is that noise?” He nodded toward a multitude of taxis as they jostled each other on the now busy streets, the drivers fighting for position via blaring horns. Phoebe hardly heard the noise anymore, but she remembered being shocked when she first arrived at the amount of noise in the city.

  “Taxis. Horns. They’re only supposed to use them in emergencies, but the drivers use them to communicate, to say, ‘Watch out! I’m mad as heck! Take that! Get off my rear!’” She looked up at him. “You all have hansom cabs in London, right? I’ll bet they’re noisy. Same drivers—different century?”

  Reggie grinned and nodded. “You may be right about that, Phoebe. Certainly, there is a great deal of shouting amongst the cabs.”