Now Playing on Outworld 5730

by R. T. W. Lipkin

  For a moment during the ride Ephraim had imagined that he was on Hyperion, that Charlotte was waiting for him back at the house, and that the past had never occurred.

  But Hyperion was dead—he’d collapsed of no one knew what—and Charlotte was married to Abel Fulton. He and Wyatt were at Hollyhock Manor on 5730, playing foolish roles in an entertainment Ephraim had never had the slightest interest in and still didn’t.

  “I’m trying to convince Nicholas to come back with me,” Wyatt said.

  “You’re going too?”

  “I have to,” Wyatt said. “No point in staying. There was no point in coming here, really, but . . . Since Nick’s factory was destroyed, though, there’re problems at home. I have to see to the business.”

  “I thought your father was still in charge.”

  “He is and he isn’t. He must need me there even though he’d never send for me.”

  “If I can get some kind of a refund for the unused time here . . .” Ephraim thought he might be able to buy back some of the farmland he’d sold off to finance his ill-conceived, pointless revenge.

  “No refunds, my boy,” said Wyatt. “Are you in need?”

  “No,” Ephraim said. He’d never let Wyatt know what he’d sacrificed to come all the way across the galaxy just to destroy him. They were friends again—a nearly miraculous result, one that Ephraim had never considered. That itself was worth the price.

  “Lady Katherine will be tragically disappointed,” Wyatt said as he put the back of his hand on his forehead and leaned dramatically backward.

  “Why’s that?” Ephraim said.

  Wyatt laughed. “My God, Eph. You can be oblivious sometimes.”

  “Not I,” Ephraim said, then laughed at himself. He was completely oblivious, especially when it came to women. He was better off sticking to agriculture, swordsmanship, and horses.

  “What are you going to do about Violet?” Wyatt said. He patted the neck of his horse, who was drinking from the creek where they’d stopped for a break.

  “There’s nothing to do,” Ephraim said. He stood apart from his horse, who wasn’t Hyperion and couldn’t be. Violet wasn’t Charlotte and wouldn’t want to be, he thought.

  “You really never . . . with Becky?”

  “Never,” Ephraim lied. He could barely remember her face or one word she’d said to him. Or her body, for that matter.

  “Don’t you think you’re in love with the lady’s maid?”

  Would Wyatt never shut up? “You and I are friends again. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “I wonder what Calvert would’ve done if we’d used swords,” Wyatt said. “He probably would’ve thought of something.”

  Wyatt’s horse finished drinking and nuzzled his shoulder. Ephraim’s horse finished as well, and the two men and their two horses stood by the creek while the hazy sunlight filtered through the tree branches, heavy with springtime—or what passed for springtime on Outworld 5730—leaves and buds.

  “At least it’s not raining,” Ephraim said. At least he wasn’t dragging Violet around the lake path or having sex with her in the hut or thinking about her all the time.

  “You’re going to be at the ball tonight, aren’t you?” Wyatt said. “If not, Lady Katherine might have to commit suicide or at least fall into a light faint three or four times.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, man. I’ve thought of skipping it entirely but Etterly’s insisting I go, and you know how I hate letting him down. Which I’ve done once too often.”

  “Precisely why I refused a valet.”

  “Precisely why your cravat always looks like a bandage discarded by a wounded, semicomatose soldier.”

  “Precisely why Lady Katherine isn’t interested in the slightest in me,” Wyatt said. “Thanks to the gods of romance and disarray.”

  “I’d’ve thought you’d’ve made a play for Lady Patience by now. She’s actually quite all right even if she can’t remember to call Violet by her name.” Although Ephraim had noticed that after the first couple of weeks, Lady Patience had been overtly bored by every man there.

  “I did have my eye on someone, but now that I’m leaving . . . and she was thoroughly disinterested in me,” Wyatt said.

  “Ah, that’s right. You wait for them to make the first five moves. I’d forgotten,” Ephraim said.

  “Stop being bitter about Charlotte, Eph. I’m not. And she left me on our wedding day. And married someone else instead. That day.”

  “Good thing you’re not bitter.” Although Ephraim noticed that Wyatt had been smiling as he spoke. He’s taunting me, Ephraim thought. Showing me what a fool I am. Reminding me of our friendship.

  “Have you been to the maze yet?” Wyatt said.

  “There’s a maze? At Hollyhock?”

  “Out past that hilarious fountain. Let’s go,” Wyatt said as he mounted his horse in the same nonchalant almost careless manner he did everything.

  He’d gotten Charlotte that way too, Ephraim thought, then reminded himself that it hadn’t happened like that at all. And that she was now married to Abel Fulton. And that Wyatt really was his friend.

  And that Violet was going back to Los Angeles and he’d never see her again, never touch her again.

  “I don’t love her, you know,” Ephraim said as he mounted the bay gelding he’d been riding every morning. He hadn’t cried when Charlotte had run off with Wyatt, but when Hyperion died hardly a week afterward, he was finally broken.

  “Race you,” Wyatt said as he kicked his mount forward, and Ephraim joined him.

  In another week they’d both be home, on opposite sides of Earth, the majestic just a memory.

  Chapter 100

  “Your Grace,” Jewel Allman said when the duchess came into the study. The beautiful, glowing Sophia was wearing a peach-colored morning dress with a ruby red sash at the high waist. Her auburn hair was glossy and sleekly done up.

  The duchess’s pregnancy was starting to show more every day, Jewel thought. There’d be no hiding it from her husband. Her actual husband. The one who was summoning her home. The one whose message Jewel Allman now had to deliver.

  “Mrs. Allman,” the duchess said. She glanced over at the windowsill, and Jewel wondered what the fascination was.

  The duchess sat down then and Jewel could almost see her in a few months’ time, holding her hand to support her back as she’d sit down, taking off the strain caused by her protruding belly.

  Jewel herself had never wanted children. The players and casts at the majestics were her children, and that was more than enough for her to handle. Anyway, she was quite happy by herself, as she’d always been.

  But the duchess obviously did want children or she never would’ve taken the antidote. And although Jewel was fearful of telling her about her husband’s summons, she also figured that Marguerite Idrest knew what she was doing, as anyone taking the antidote must know.

  Neither of the women spoke. Jewel had been hoping that Marguerite Idrest would have guessed why she’d been asked to meet with her. After all, it was her husband and her pregnancy.

  “I see you’ve replaced the lamps,” the duchess finally said. “The old ones were nicer.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Jewel said. The old ones were nicer, but replacing them on the fly hadn’t been easy. These two had been borrowed from Brixton, and Thalia Rivers had not been very happy about it, but Jewel had threatened to cut her group out of the masked ball, so she’d relented.

  The duchess repositioned herself, making Jewel squirm in unconscious imitation.

  “You see, Your Grace,” Jewel began.

  “Of course I’ll pay for the lamps,” Sophia said. “I expected to.”

  “It’s not the lamps, Your Grace,” Jewel said. She was suddenly gripped with a terrible fear of the duchess’s reaction to what she was about to say. She took two deep breaths to calm herself, but felt more nervous after them than she had before.

  Yet Marguerite Idrest would be back on Outworld 75, in her ult
raposh world long before the baby would be born. She must have known that when she planned to get pregnant. So it was really her problem to solve, not Jewel’s. All Jewel could do was relay the message.

  “What is it, then, Mrs. Allman?”

  “It’s your husband, Your Grace.”

  “The duke is upstairs, Mrs. Allman. If you wanted to speak with him, you might have done so instead of bothering me.” The duchess half rose from her chair before Jewel found her voice.

  “Mr. Idrest, I mean.”

  The duchess sat back down. She clasped her hands in her lap and sat very straight, her back as stiff as though there were a steel shaft reinforcing it.

  “Has something happened to him?” the duchess said. Jewel thought that a flash of hope streaked across Marguerite’s otherwise impassive expression. She was impossible to read, and Jewel was so preoccupied with the ball tonight that she was having a difficult time concentrating on the task at hand and was unable to interpret the duchess’s cues.

  “Oh no, Mrs. Idrest. You have no need to be concerned. It’s just that—”

  Three sharp knocks on the study door interrupted her. Neither Jewel nor Sophia said a word, but the door opened anyway and the duke stepped into the room.

  “What are you ladies doing, locked away in here? A secret conference, perhaps?”

  Jewel stood and nodded in the duke’s direction. “Your Grace,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Apparently not,” he said as he took the seat beside the duchess. Jewel remained standing.

  “Sophia and I have no secrets from each other,” he said. “So you may proceed.”

  “Edgar,” the duchess said as she took his hand. “Please leave us for a moment. We’ll be finished shortly.”

  But the duke didn’t get up, instead crossing his legs, with one ankle resting on the other knee.

  “We were just discussing the ball tonight,” Jewel said. She couldn’t possibly let Nicholas Coburn know that Clive Idrest had ordered his wife home. That would be up to Marguerite to tell him.

  “Yes, my dear,” the duchess, playing along, said. “Dull stuff for a man, I should think.”

  “You and the duchess shall take the floor first, of course,” Jewel said. “For the leading dance. I just wanted to make sure that all the arrangements were to the duchess’s liking.”

  “Dull stuff indeed,” the duke said, uncrossed his legs, and got up. “I shall leave you to it.”

  After he’d gone, the duchess stood up.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Allman. I have much to do this morning.”

  “Mrs. Idrest,” Jewel said, thinking it best to continue addressing her by her actual name. “Mr. Idrest has requested that you take tomorrow’s transport home.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Allman. I’ll be going now.”

  Jewel wasn’t sure she’d delivered the message properly, since “request” wasn’t what the message had really said, and the duchess’s response was vague and noncommittal.

  “Mrs. Idrest,” Jewel said as the duchess reached for the door handle.

  “I’m afraid I must tell you that your husband has insisted you come home.”

  When Jewel saw the color drain from Marguerite’s face, she hastily added, “I believe there’s been an emergency at home and you’re needed urgently.”

  Jewel knew of no such emergency.

  If the powerful Idrest had ordered his wife home, Jewel couldn’t be responsible for her not going. And although he hadn’t specifically said as much, Clive Idrest had strongly intimated that if his orders weren’t carried out, not just this majestic, but Jewel’s entire business would end up in ruins.

  Chapter 101

  “Just a little farther,” Violet said to Rosie.

  “But I have so much to do today. I never should’ve agreed.” Rosie kept looking back over her shoulder, as though some of those doings could be pursuing her.

  “It’s my last day, Rosie, and I wanted to show you. We’ll be back in less than an hour.”

  “You said fifteen minutes.”

  “A half hour,” Violet said. She just had to show Rosie the maze. It was Violet’s last day at Hollyhock, Rosie had never seen the maze, it simply had to be seen, and Rosie would never go after Violet left. Never.

  Rosie stopped walking and looked toward the manor house. “Vi, this is silly. Let’s go back. I’ll have someone else show me the maze later. It doesn’t matter. And I still have the decorations to finish.”

  “Didn’t you finish last night?” Hadn’t Rosie told her that?

  “There’re still adjustments to make.” Rosie looked like she wasn’t going to move another inch.

  “Okay, let’s go back,” Violet said. “I just thought you’d enjoy it. The place is almost enchanted. Truly. Promise me you’ll go after the ball.”

  “You mean after you’ve left,” Rosie said.

  “Yes, that’s what I mean.” Violet sighed the usual 5730 sigh, clearing her lungs for a stronger try at the thin atmosphere.

  “I promise,” Rosie said. “Can we go back now?”

  The two women walked slowly toward the manor house.

  “I really wanted to show it to you myself,” Violet said. “I should never have waited this long. I just didn’t think about it until today.”

  “It’s all right, Vi. I promise I’ll see it in a few days’ time. Afterward.”

  “Rosie, have you ever been in love?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Rosie started walking faster.

  “How could you not know?” Violet started trotting to keep up with her friend.

  “How could you know? Weren’t you married? Was that love? And what about that insufferable marquess you frolicked about with until the duel? What was that?”

  “Rosie! I didn’t know you could be so harsh.”

  “That’s not harshness, Vi. It’s reality. Maybe because you’re an actor you don’t take much stock in reality, but I do. I have to.”

  “Rosie”—Violet stopped trotting, and Rosie turned around to look at her—“are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you? I may never see you again after tomorrow.”

  “Come on, Vi. I need to get back,” Rosie said, and quickened her pace.

  Across the field, Saybrook and Trevelton, urging their mounts ever faster, were racing out to the maze, and Trevelton caught a brief glimpse of the two women on their way back to Hollyhock Manor.

  Saybrook reached the maze first, and Trevelton was close behind. Their horses had both worked up a slight lather, and the men walked their mounts back to the huge ornamental fountain, which was spewing streams of water from several different spigots, the flows seemingly emerging from mermaids’ pitchers and the misshapen, gaping mouths of fishes, seagulls, and frogs.

  “Who designed this atrocity?” Trevelton said as the horses drank from the fountain.

  “Probably Jewel Allman herself,” Saybrook said, laughing. Both of the men were exhilarated and nearly breathless from the ride.

  “Listen, Wyatt,” Ephraim said as they walked their horses back to the maze. But he never finished his thought, because when they got to the clearing directly in front of the maze’s entrance gate, Lady Patience Barrington was there, sitting by herself on a stone bench. Her forearms were resting on her thighs and she was bent over in seeming contemplation.

  She immediately got up when she saw the two men approaching.

  “Lady Patience,” Saybrook said, and bowed to her with his most flamboyant and least facetious bow.

  “Lord Saybrook,” she said. “Lord Trevelton.”

  “My lady,” Trevelton said with a slight nod.

  “I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place,” she said.

  “This is Trevelton’s first time,” Saybrook said. “I thought I was the only one who knew about it.”

  The trio exchanged uncomfortable laughter.

  “Will you be at the ball tonight, Lord Saybrook?” Lady Patience seemed uncaring of his response, so he merely nodded. />
  “How’s Violet?” Trevelton blurted out before he realized what he was saying.

  “Oh, Lettie? She’s getting ready to leave, you know. I shall miss her terribly. Harriette is a poor substitute.” She self-consciously touched her chignon, making sure it was still in place.

  “No doubt she’ll rise to the occasion,” Saybrook said. Harriette, whoever that was, might be able to redeem herself, but Saybrook knew there was no saving his friend. Wyatt could tell Ephraim was about to trade in his spade for a shovel, digging an even deeper grave for himself.

  “She got that part, didn’t she?” Trevelton said.

  “Yes,” Lady Patience said very quietly and looking around, clearly concerned that she were about to be reprimanded for talking as though they weren’t at a majestic but in a friend’s backyard. “It’s the one she was hoping for,” she added. “She told me.”

  “Trev here’s so dashed about it that he’s decided to go home too,” Wyatt said. Might as well help his friend out.

  “I didn’t know you two were still . . .” Lady Patience looked down at her hands. There was a fan hanging limply from one wrist.

  “We’re not, my lady,” Trevelton said as he glared at Saybrook. “Nothing ever really happened anyway, you know.”

  Saybrook laughed out loud at that. “So say you.”

  “Violet was quite destroyed when she thought you were dead, Lord Trevelton,” Lady Patience said. She was looking right at him now, having abandoned the view of her hands and the fan at her wrist.

  “Yet here we all are,” Trevelton said.

  “Shall we attempt the maze?” Saybrook said. “That is what we came here for.”

  “I’m afraid I’m going to decline,” Lady Patience said. “The last time I was here, I think the only reason I got out was that Lettie was with me. I’m not sure I trust either of you to be as effective or useful a companion.”

  Trevelton headed toward the maze without so much as an excuse me to Lady Patience.

  “You’ll have to forgive him, my lady” Saybrook said as he bowed to Lady Patience. “I’m afraid he’s easily distracted. Love, you know.”

  “Lord Saybrook,” Lady Patience said as she turned to leave. No, she didn’t know.