Under An English Moon

by Bess McBride

  “Out would be fine for this morning. I think it probably looks a little odd to tuck a shirt in without wearing a belt.”

  “I see you have as many conventions regarding clothing in your time as we do in ours. I will wear it as you wish. It is my desire to please you.”

  Phoebe stared at the Georgian-era man standing in front of her. Oh, couldn’t she keep him? Oh, please?

  Chapter Six

  Reggie stepped out of the dressing room, appreciating the lightness of his shirt and the freedom of the open collar.

  “Shall I require a cravat or a frock coat? I think the top hat is to be dispensed with, is it not? I did not miss the curiosity on the saleswoman’s countenance when she regarded my hat as if it were some sort of oddity. And I saw no other gentlemen on the street in similar hats.” He opened the bag to show the hat stowed inside.

  “You don’t need a cravat or a top hat, Reggie. And it’s warm enough out that you don’t need a coat right now, but we should get you a jacket later this morning when we come back shopping with Annie. It’s late spring, and it could get cold again.”

  “I am concerned about the extent of your expenditures on my behalf, Phoebe. I mean to recompense you at the earliest opportunity.”

  “I know,” Phoebe said. “I know. Are you ready? Got your shoes on?”

  “My sneakers,” Reggie grinned. “Yes, I think I am fully dressed. Is there aught about my appearance that is amiss?”

  “Not a single thing,” Phoebe said with a smile. Her cheeks brightened as they had done several times that morning.

  “Good! I value your opinion.”

  Phoebe dropped her eyes, and he hoped he had not muddled his words of appreciation.

  “We’d better go,” she said. She led the way from the store, and Reggie followed, carrying his own ‘shopping bag’ like a groom. There appeared to be a paucity of servants either in New York City or in Phoebe’s life. Was she so terribly poor? She did not appear to live in squalor but enjoyed a comfortable home at the whim of her wealthier cousin, and yet she was forced to seek employment and had no companion or servants to care for her.

  Reggie ruminated on Phoebe’s circumstances as they walked. If her cousin, Miss Annie Warner, were wealthy, why did she not at least settle a small living upon Phoebe and provide her with a modest staff? He sighed inwardly. Such was not always the case in England either. Often, those with ample means were miserly and ignored their poorer relations.

  Reggie looked down at the top of Phoebe’s head. Golden highlights in her brown hair gleamed under the morning sun. How delightful to see lively hair bouncing upon a woman’s shoulders rather than confined into tight curls at the back of one’s head.

  It had been some time since she had unceremoniously grabbed his hand as she was wont to do, certainly not since departing the clothing shop. He missed the spontaneous gesture, the feel of her skin against his, the surprising strength in her small hands. But he could not simply possess himself of her hand at his whim. It was not done. He would never admit as much, but he deliberately allowed his left hand, nearest her person, to dangle loosely and freely. He had even dawdled upon their departure from the shop, fully expecting Phoebe to take his hand, but she had not.

  He mentally abjured himself to avoid dwelling overly much on the intimacy of the encounter in the “fitting room,” yet he could not help remembering. That Phoebe had fastened his trousers as if he had been a child shocked him, but had seemed to cause her only mild embarrassment. It would seem that the social niceties were vastly different in the twenty-first century. His lips now twitched at the memory, though he had not thought it amusing at that moment. The look in Phoebe’s eyes when she regarded him after the incident had not been that of a mother regarding her child, but of a woman looking at a man. He cleared his throat.

  “And what sorts of foods might we find in this establishment?” It was impolite to walk in silence.

  “Oh, lots of different stuff. You can have lunch food and probably some things on the dinner menu, as well, if you want.” Phoebe stopped at a silver metal and glass door and pulled it open. Reggie reached to grab it, dismayed that he failed once again in his gentlemanly duty to assist her with such efforts. Although, quite honestly, she never awaited his assistance.

  They entered a busy room filled with people seated in various arrangements. Some were seated on benches facing each other with small tables between, others on red-cushioned stools along a long trestle table that seemed to face the kitchen directly.

  “It is unusual to see servants dining with their masters,” he said in a low voice. Phoebe gave him a startled look.

  “What?”

  He nodded toward the long table near the kitchen.

  Phoebe laughed. “That’s the counter, Reggie, just another way of sitting. We don’t really have servants here in America anymore. We have employees, and they can eat anywhere they want in a diner.”

  Reggie tried to ignore her perpetual laughter at his expense, but he must have failed to guard his face.

  “I’m sorry, Reggie. I keep doing that, don’t I? I don’t mean to make fun of you, and I’d smack the first person who did.”

  He lowered his eyes to see her repentant countenance. “I would not wish that upon anyone,” he murmured.

  Phoebe grinned. “There’s Annie in a booth.” She waved to her cousin, seated at one of the tables flanked by red-cushioned benches.

  As they approached, Annie’s eyes widened, and Reggie followed her gaze. So comfortable was his clothing, he had almost forgotten he wore modern sneakers, shirt, and ‘jeans.’” Self-consciously, he reached for his bare and unadorned neck. Without a properly tied cravat, he felt somewhat undressed.

  “Well, you clean up nice,” Annie said. Phoebe slid onto the bench across from Annie and indicated Reggie should take the seat next to her. She took the bag from him and placed it on the ground beneath the table. Reggie slid in beside her.

  “Thank you, Annie,” he said in formal tones.

  “So, how did it go?” she asked. She handed Phoebe and Reggie large shiny documents, which were shown to be menus.

  “Oh, fine. Slow though.”

  “How did you find time to change? Did you go back to the apartment?” Annie asked.

  “Oh, um, Reggie had left some clothes at the office.”

  Annie raised her eyebrows and shook her head.

  “I don’t get it. Well, anyway, I’ve got some news! I’m going to take off for Hawaii tomorrow, and guess who’s meeting me there?”

  “Johan?”

  “Phoebe! How did you guess? Yeah, he called me and said he missed me. We’re going to try to work it out. He’s never been to Hawaii, so...”

  “That’s wonderful news, Annie! I’m so happy for you.”

  Reggie remained silent. Matters of the heart were not discussed so freely in his home, if at all, and he had nothing to offer.

  “So, I’m off again, and you can have the apartment back to yourselves.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Phoebe began. “I have to deposit the rent check today.”

  “I don’t know why you keep doing that, Phoebe. I’ve told you that you don’t have to pay rent. I don’t need the money.”

  Phoebe cast a glance in Reggie’s direction, and he lowered his head discreetly to study the menu.

  “I’m not going to live off you, silly,” she said.

  Clearly, Phoebe took employment so she could pay her own way in the absence of parents or a brother. She seemed to have no other expectations, no inheritance, perhaps not even a dowry. And yet she insisted upon paying rent to her wealthy cousin for her lodgings. Were it within his power, he would provide for her himself. However, not only could he not provide for her at the moment, he was a burden, a drain on her meager resources. The thought unmanned him, and he desired nothing more than to return to his own time. Were he to wish upon the moon again, he would make sure to do so with a pocketful of money. If only he had worn jewelry or carried coins in his pocket
when he had left his father’s house in anger.

  Reggie, struggling with the humiliation of his dependence upon a young woman, remained silent throughout the meal. He was not unaware that Phoebe cast sideways glances in his direction, but his manners failed him, and he could not offer comment during the meal other than to respond that yes, he did indeed enjoy the food.

  The young woman serving them deposited a small scrap of paper on the table, and Annie reached for it.

  “My treat,” she said.

  “Let me pay for ours,” Phoebe said.

  “No, no. I got it,” Annie replied.

  Reggie’s face flamed. He should have been able to wrest the blasted paper from both of them and lay the coins upon the table himself. He longed to rise and leave, yet that would have been in worse form than staying and offering nothing in the way of compensation for his meal, as he now did.

  The bill paid, they rose and left the “diner.”

  “So, now we go shopping,” Annie said with a grin.

  Reggie longed to plead a headache or some other missish ailment and return to the apartment—anything to avoid the prospect of watching Phoebe spend yet more money on him. But he could not bear to see the disappointment on her face should he do so, and he feared he would disappoint her or perhaps make her look foolish in front of her cousin.

  They returned to the same shop.

  “I’m going to look for some summer stuff for Hawaii. I’ll be over there,” Annie said, nodding in the direction of an array of colorful garments on metal stands.

  “Okay, we’ll be here.”

  As soon as Annie moved away, Reggie spoke.

  “I cannot allow you to purchase anything further for me, Phoebe. I simply cannot. I am appalled at my dependency upon you, and am reduced to begging you to believe that I am indeed a man of means. It is humiliating. When you and your cousin negotiated who must pay for the meal, what did I do? Remain silent. Wish myself elsewhere. Anything but do the gentlemanly thing and pay! This clothing that you have already purchased is new. It is durable. It will suffice for some time until I can find a way to procure funds. I would be much better served if I were to spend my time seeking out my family’s fortune, my fortune, in order to access it.”

  Phoebe’s face colored, but Reggie would not be dissuaded by her mortification.

  “I do not wish to discomfit you, Phoebe, I truly do not. You must know that I hold you in the highest esteem. But my own esteem is suffering, and I cannot take anything else from you. As it is, I must continue to depend upon your for shelter and food for the foreseeable future. It is intolerable!”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Reggie. As you probably heard at breakfast, I don’t actually have to pay Annie rent, but I insist on it, even if it’s much lower than she could get from someone else. I don’t want to owe anyone anything.” She shrugged. “I know you would pay me back if you could, Reggie. And maybe someday you will,” she said with a smile. “There are really only two things that can happen. You’ll return somehow or you’ll stay. If you stay, you’ll either find your family’s money or you’ll get a job.”

  A job? Did she mean employment? Reggie lifted his head at the notion. For a moment, he imagined himself delivering coal or serving as a valet or a groom. He glanced at the bag in his hand. It seemed he was already well on his way toward the latter occupations.

  “Yes, employment. A job, as you say.” Reggie couldn’t imagine such a thing, but he was hesitant to express his thoughts to a lady who was herself employed by necessity.

  “I’ll just go tell Annie that we’re leaving,” Phoebe said. “You’ll really need a change of clothes, but I’ll leave that up to you. It’s a good thing Annie has a washer and dryer in the apartment.”

  “Aha! So, you do have people to attend to your clothing. I shall be pleased to have them wash my clothing.”

  Phoebe fell into another fit of unbecoming riotous laughter, doubling over in the most unladylike manner. Reggie noted several passersby looked her way and then passed on.

  “Phoebe! Please compose yourself. I assume I have said something humorous yet again.”

  She clutched at her side and waved a vague hand. “Sorry! No, no people who wash and dry. Those are machines! Let’s go tell Annie we’re leaving.”

  Reggie pressed his lips together. Machines. How was he to know?

  They found Annie in a section if the shop with a sign which read “Misses” above one wall.

  “Hey Annie, Reggie decided he would rather wait until his stuff arrives from England than buy a whole new wardrobe, so we’re going to take off. Are you all right here?”

  “Oh, sure,” she said, holding aloft a long yet scanty dress of bright red adorned with large white flowers.

  Reggie raised a brow at Phoebe’s inventiveness. He presumed “wait until his stuff arrives from England” was a reference to having his clothing sent from England.

  “What do you think about this dress?” Annie asked.

  “Very nice. Buy it.” Phoebe said.

  “I think I will. I’m going to go look at bathing suits. I’ll see you guys later.” Annie strode off in another direction, and Reggie followed Phoebe out of the store.

  “So, what would you like to do?” Phoebe asked.

  “I would like to find my money,” Reggie said. “Perhaps we could visit a banking institution? Make inquiries?”

  “I have a better idea, Reggie. Let’s go to my office and get on the computer. The Internet is the first place to start looking for you or your family. I would say ‘let’s go home,’ but Annie will probably show up there soon, and I don’t want to have to explain what we’re looking for. I doubt if anyone will be at my office. It’s Saturday.”

  Though Reggie kept his eyes on Phoebe’s lips, lovely as they were, he was not able to decipher all of her words.

  “Pewter? A net? I fear I do not understand your meaning or what one might have to do with the other.”

  “I am not going to laugh. I am not going to laugh,” she chanted breathlessly. Her lips twitched, but to her credit, she pressed them together. Reggie did not know if he could tolerate one more episode of rowdy amusement, especially on the street in full view of passersby.

  “Thank you, Phoebe.”

  “Com-puter. Inter-net. These are new inventions that help us manage information. In your case, we are going to look up references to your family, your estate, even your bank to see if it still exists. We should probably look up time travel and the phases of the moon while we’re at it.” Phoebe grinned and took his hand as they stopped at a crossroads. Reggie relaxed at her touch. At last!

  A large silver metal pole festooned with a red light which changed to green seemed to beckon them as the group of people surrounding them surged forward. A white light depicting a small man striding could be seen.

  Reggie rotated his wrist such that he now held Phoebe’s hand in a firm clasp. Phoebe cast him a quick glance, but he kept his eyes on the busy street.

  They stopped in front of a tall brick building and entered another large glass and silver metal door. Reggie prided himself that he was quick enough this time to pull the door open for Phoebe. After an enjoyable ride in yet another elevator, Reggie followed Phoebe out of the door into a hallway. She produced keys from her bag and unlocked the door of an establishment noted to be “Sinclair Publishing, Inc.”

  Sinclair! It seemed only yesterday that Reggie resented that name. William Sinclair, his step-brother, who had married the lady of his dreams, Matilda Crockwell. Looking down upon Phoebe’s lovely brown locks, he thought he could not remember the color of Miss Crockwell’s hair at the moment.

  However, that was England almost two hundred years in the past. The name Sinclair was common enough as was his own. He imagined the name was merely a coincidence.

  Phoebe flipped a switch on the wall and soft lighting flooded the entrance. She led the way down a tan-carpeted hallway and stopped in front of a door. A metal holder held a small sign which read “Ph
oebe Warner, Copy Editor.”

  “You have an office of your own? I did not realize you held such an important position,” Reggie exclaimed.

  Phoebe chuckled. “Not me. But I am lucky to have an office. Here, take a seat.” She pulled a wheeled chair toward a large glass-topped desk and took the other seat behind the desk. Reggie sat in the proffered chair and almost fell out of it, the back unexpectedly giving way as the sea spun around in a circle.

  “Watch out!” Phoebe laughed before clamping a hand over her mouth.

  “What in the—” Reggie jumped up and regarded the offending seat. “Is this a rocking chair?”

  “No, no,” Phoebe chuckled. “Well, kind of, I guess. It’s just a desk chair. You know, the back relaxes, the wheels move, the chair rotates.”

  Reggie stared hard at the chair, almost willing it to behave. He’d had enough of appearing foolish in Phoebe’s eyes. Better prepared, he gingerly retook his seat and settled into it, keeping a firm hold of the arm lest it move in some other unexpected fashion. When nothing happened for a moment, he crossed his legs and relaxed.

  Phoebe had been pushing various buttons on a small machine, and he watched with interest.

  “And what is that? The Inter-net?”

  “No, this is the computer. We will get to the Internet through it. The Internet is a source of information, but you can’t touch it, you can’t feel it, you can’t turn a page. It’s like a huge book, but not.”

  Reggie shook his head, feeling particularly obtuse.

  “Here,” she said. “I’ll type in Lord Reginald Hamilton.”

  Reggie tried to see the glass frame on the machine but could not.

  “May I approach?”

  “Oh, sure,” Phoebe said.

  He took a position behind her and leaned over her shoulder. He straightened quickly. Her scent caught him by surprise—a sweet, fresh smell of spring flowers. Reggie was not at all certain that he could behave with decorum under the heady influence of her nearness.

  “Are you all right?” She asked as she looked up at him.

  “Yes, indeed,” he murmured. He took a deep breath and attempted to concentrate on the glass frame of the machine. The soft-appearing skin of Phoebe’s exposed arms tantalized him. Her hair shone like silk under the overhead lights. Reggie straightened again and reseated himself in the chair. The struggle to prevent himself from touching her proved too much, and he needed distance.