by Gina Lamm
Thirty-Three
After the most delicious bath Ella could remember in a very, very long time, she got dressed with Poppy’s help. The maid had tsked over the state of the yellow gown, declaring it to be soiled beyond repair. Ella hadn’t really fought her on it. She couldn’t imagine putting it on again after having spent a few hours in the madhouse wearing it.
She’d just settled onto a couch in the sitting room, a pretty room done in creams and gold tones with warm wooden accents, when Patrick returned, accompanied by a group of people.
Ella stood as they entered—first her husband, a triumphant smile on his face; followed by Iain, then Lord Brownstone and his daughter, and finally the vicar who’d had her committed that morning. Ella didn’t bother to smile at Mr. Harrods. He wasn’t exactly her favorite person at the moment.
“Are you well, darling?” Patrick came straight up to her and grabbed her hands.
She smiled. “I’m fine now that you’re back.”
“You are looking well, Lady Fairhaven. And may I congratulate you on your nuptials?” Iain kissed her hand, and Ella fought hard to keep her blush from showing.
“Thanks.”
“We are now here, Fairhaven. At what point are you going to tell me of the reason for this? I presume it has something to do with your disgraceful conduct this morning.” The baron scowled at Patrick. “Cowardly dealings, if you ask me.”
“There is a very good reason that I missed our appointment on the heath at dawn, and I will leave it to Mr. Harrods and your lovely daughter to explain.” Patrick led Ella over to the sofa, and they both sat down. Lacing her hands primly in her lap, Ella looked from George to Amelia, then back again.
“Papa,” Amelia started, her face pale and wan, “all this is my fault.”
“What are you speaking of, my poppet?”
Amelia’s spine stiffened and her chin raised in defiance. “I’m not your poppet. I am a grown woman, and I have made a lot of mistakes recently.”
Despite everything, Ella laughed. The whole room looked at her like she was crazy, but she shook her head.
“Sorry. I was just thinking I should say, ‘You go, girl,’ but I didn’t think anyone would understand what I meant.”
Amelia smiled at Ella gratefully. “The words are odd, but I thank you for the sentiment.” She turned her attention back to her father. “I will tell you the whole of it and admit my misdeeds. You may not love me so well when you know it, but I must clear my friends of any wrongdoing.”
As Amelia admitted her plans, the baron’s face grew redder and angrier. By the time she’d reached the part about claiming Patrick had ruined her to save the plan, the man was nearly shaking with temper. But Ella had to hand it to him; he kept it together, not saying a word even when Amelia finished with, “And now I shall let George tell you what occurred this morning.”
The vicar stood, pulling at his collar as if he could get more oxygen that way.
“Ah, yes. This morning I was visited by Lady Fairhaven”—Mr. Harrods gestured to Ella—“and she told me the most unbelievable story about her origins.”
“She is from the Colonies—that is hardly unbelievable.”
“No, that is not what she said to me,” the vicar protested. “She said—”
He glanced over at Patrick, who was delivering the darkest look Ella had ever seen. She actually shuddered herself. Fortunately, the vicar got the message and muttered, “It does not signify. In any case, I thought the tale must be false, and she was mad. I tasked some local men with taking her to the magistrate, but they took her to the asylum instead. The earl heard of it, and so he was forced to rescue his lady wife instead of meeting you for the duel this morning. It is quite my fault.”
As he approached Ella with head bowed, the vicar’s frown was even more pronounced. He knelt in front of her. “Pray forgive me, my lady. Words cannot express my regret.”
Lacing her fingers through Patrick’s, Ella smiled. “I forgive you. And actually, it’s fine. We stopped the duel, didn’t we?” She looked over at her husband.
“Yes, you did.” Patrick kissed her on the lips.
“I must apologize as well,” the baron said grimly. “My daughter has led you quite the merry dance, Fairhaven. And in your protection of her, you were willing to stand up to me. ’Tis a grim business, that, but you have my gratitude and my apologies.”
Patrick nodded. “We were all in the wrong, Brownstone. But I would beg of you to allow me to make a small request.”
“Of course.”
“Let her marry the mutton-headed vicar. We shall get no peace if you do not.”
The baron glared at Mr. Harrods. “I suppose there is no help for it now.”
Giving a loud whoop of joy, Amelia flew into Mr. Harrods’s arms and embraced him. Both he and Lord Brownstone looked scandalized, but the joy on Amelia’s face was undeniable. It made Ella snuggle closer against Patrick’s side.
“I love you, Lord Fairhaven.”
“And I you, my lady.” Patrick dropped a kiss on her nose.
* * *
A week later, a message arrived from Iain.
“It is the woman he found, Mrs. Comstock,” Patrick explained as they got into the carriage. “She will meet us at the Duke of Granville’s home, where you arrived here. There, we will determine if she will be able to open the portal.”
“So we can go home?” Ella smiled, and Patrick nodded.
“Yes.”
She tried not to notice that he looked a little sad around the edges. Staring out the window beside her, she swallowed hard.
Choosing between Patrick’s home and hers would be the most difficult thing she’d ever had to do. One of them would have to give up everything familiar. And while Patrick had agreed that, if the portal could be opened, he would go with her, she knew that it would be incredibly difficult for him.
Leaving his friends, his home, his duties as a peer—that was a lot to give up. But he was willing to do it for her. She didn’t think she’d ever felt more loved—or more guilty.
A thrill of recognition went through her when the carriage stopped in front of the large brick home.
“This is definitely the right place,” she said as Patrick helped her down. “I looked out that window when I first got here.” She pointed to the second floor.
Patrick’s smile was a little strained. “Wonderful. Come now, follow me.”
Iain had apparently made arrangements with the caretaker, because a kind-looking older man let them in. Ella thanked him as he showed them upstairs to the room where Iain and a thin, haggard-looking woman were waiting. A quick glance in the corner confirmed what she’d thought: the bureau was there, standing silent and tall in the corner.
“Lord and Lady Fairhaven, may I introduce Mrs. Comstock,” Iain said.
Painting what she hoped was a polite smile on her face, Ella nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Comstock.”
The woman’s gaze raked her up and down, as if she could clearly see that Ella wasn’t really who she claimed to be. “And you, milady. So you’re the one that wants to travel through time, yes? Difficult business, that. It may take many months, a very long time to build the power necessary to—”
“Oh pish-posh,” a familiar voice said from the corner of the room. Ella gasped.
“Mrs. Knightsbridge!”
The little, round housekeeper’s face had popped through the glass of the bureau’s mirror as if it were a puddle of water. She grinned at the shocked assemblage in front of her. “It’s no more than a mirror spell, Mrs. Comstock. One day I will visit you and instruct you in mirrors. If you can scry, you can control portals.” She winked at Mrs. Comstock, then turned her attention to Ella. “Now, my girl, are you ready to return home?”
The “yes” was poised on her lips, but before she could say it, she turned to look at Patri
ck.
“I want to go home,” she said, reaching up and touching his cheek, “but I know you’ll miss it here. Maybe we should stay, instead.”
“I cannot ask you to give up your home.” Patrick’s voice was grave.
“But you think I can ask you to give up yours?” Her voice trembled. “How is that fair?”
“Please cease your whining. You can both keep your homes.”
“What do you mean?” Ella didn’t dare to hope. She grabbed Patrick’s hand and they stood together in front of the bureau.
“I mean that this bureau can now be trained, if you like, to maintain the connection between these two worlds. ’Tis a nifty little trick I’ve just perfected. Time will march forward at the same pace from now on, and the two of you”—she pointed at Patrick and Ella—“can spend the Season in 1800s London, and the winter here in North Carolina and the twenty-first century. Or however you like, makes no difference to me.”
“You mean we both get to keep our homes?” Ella did start crying then, because she just couldn’t help it. The thought of having it all was impossible to process otherwise.
“Of course, my little duck.” Mrs. Knightsbridge laughed. “Why would I send you to find your true love if I could not help you to be happy? Now come. You’ve only two hours before your gala. It appears that you have found your own escort after all.”
Ella’s mouth fell open in shock. The party was still that night? All this time, everything that had happened, and the night she left was still on the other side of that mirror?
Magic was a really incredible and strange thing.
“It appears that you won’t be rid of me after all, Cousin,” Patrick said to Iain as he embraced Ella.
“’Tis glad I am of that,” Iain said, crossing his thick arms.
Mrs. Knightsbridge shot him a knowing look. “Hello there, sir. Are you in possession of a good fortune?”
Iain didn’t bat an eye as both Ella and Patrick burst out laughing.
“I haven’t a penny, you matchmaking witch.”
Mrs. Knightsbridge arched her brows at Iain but didn’t take the bait. She turned her attention back to Ella.
“The portal will remain open, so guard the bureau well.”
“We will,” Patrick said, hugging Ella tight to him. She grinned.
“Thank you, Mrs. Knightsbridge. I can’t thank you enough.”
A gentle smile stretched the woman’s lips. “You are welcome, my dear. Be happy.”
Ella looked up at her husband’s face and grinned. “I am. I very, very much am.”
And as her husband turned her in his arms and kissed her deeply, passionately, Ella wound her arms around his neck and held on as hard as she could.
This man was her heart, and together they could do anything. No matter where or when they were, theirs was the perfect love.
She was going to have to get Mrs. Knightsbridge the most epic birthday gift ever.
Epilogue
“Patrick, hurry up. We’re going to be late!”
Ella was bent over, tying the laces of her bright blue Chucks. The new pink streak in her hair was hanging exactly in the way, and she dashed it back distractedly as she finished straightening the bow. There.
She stood up and turned, her rubber soles making no sound on the patterned Aubusson carpet. With a quick jerk on the bellpull, she yelled again, “Patrick, seriously, can you hurry? I don’t want to get there last. Not everyone knows how we’re traveling, after all.”
“One moment, Ella. My valet and I are having some difficulties with the fastening on these trousers.”
Ella couldn’t stop her laugh, and she rounded the bed she and Patrick shared at Meadowfair Manor to get to the door. “They’re jeans, not trousers. And that fastener is a zipper. You pull the little metal tag upward.”
A sudden thought struck her, and she dashed back toward the dressing room door. “And make sure everything is out of the wa—”
“Yeowtch!”
She winced and tried not to laugh. Getting pinched by a zipper was no fun. Hopefully there wasn’t much damage.
A soft knock on the bedchamber door drew her attention. “My lady?”
“You can come in, Mrs. Templeton.”
The housekeeper didn’t bat an eyelash at Ella’s outfit. After all, it wasn’t even close to the first time she’d seen Ella in a pair of shorts and a graphic tee. The first time, the woman had nearly passed out, but she eventually got used to the idea that her quite-odd mistress was from somewhere very different.
“I have your gift here.” Mrs. Templeton presented a prettily wrapped present to Ella, who took it gratefully.
“Thanks. Patrick and I are hopefully”—she glanced at the dressing room door pointedly—“leaving within the next five minutes. Can you lock the bedroom door behind us?”
Mrs. Templeton nodded. “Of course, my lady. Do have a safe journey.” She cast a distrustful look at the bureau in the corner of the room, its spider-webbed mirror glinting in a mysterious way.
Ella hugged her. “We will. And we’ll be back tonight, so don’t worry.”
Mrs. Templeton nodded and left the room just as the opposite door opened and Patrick appeared.
“Whoa,” Ella said with a grin. She’d only managed to convince Patrick to dress like a twenty-first-century guy a couple of times, but every time he did, it took her breath away.
He was wearing a pair of dark-washed jeans and a navy T-shirt that stretched over his muscles. A brown leather belt and cuff completed the outfit, but as he stood there, he raked a hand through his tousled dark-blond curls.
“I feel nude,” he said, rubbing a hand over his flat belly.
“You look delicious. Come on, the shower starts in twenty minutes, and I want to be there early.” She shoved the gift at him and grabbed his arm. “Let’s go.”
They kept a small stepstool by the bureau to make it easier for the height-challenged Ella to climb through the mirror. She did so, helped by Patrick from behind, and the now-familiar tingling shot through her body as she wriggled through the repaired glass and popped out into a brightly decorated modern living room.
“Hey, Ella!” Leah grinned as she set a bowl of chips on the side table. “Good to see you, babe.”
“You too.” Ella waved, then turned to help Patrick through the glass. Well, she grabbed the gift, at least. Once he was through, she put the gift down on the already-growing pile atop Jamie’s antique piano.
“How’s life back in chamber-pot land?” Leah said, giving Ella a big hug.
“We actually got a real toilet installed. It almost didn’t fit through the mirror.”
Leah winked. “And how are you, Lord Fairhaven?”
Patrick gave Leah a deep bow, and Ella subtly kicked him for it. “Ouch. Quite well, Mrs. Russell. And yourself?”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Leah?” Leah’s ponytail shook as she laughed. “We’re fine. Avery’s around here somewhere.”
Ella glanced around Jamie’s living room. “And the happy couple? Where are they?”
“We’re here. Sorry, I was taking a nap and I overslept.” Jamie appeared at the top of the stairs, Micah at her side holding her hand as she carefully descended. “I get so tired lately.”
“I wonder why,” Leah said dryly as she nodded toward Jamie’s big belly. “It’s not like you’re carrying around a linebacker.”
“It could be a petite little princess, but I doubt it.” Jamie groaned with relief as she sank into the oversized armchair in the corner.
Micah pressed a kiss to his wife’s forehead. “Remain there, my love. I will get you a drink.”
Jamie smiled after him with soft eyes. “He’s been the most amazing man through this whole thing.”
Patrick’s fingers threaded through Ella’s, and she smiled herself as h
er husband squeezed her hand.
Jamie crossed her legs at the ankle and pushed her dark hair back from her forehead. “Ella, I’ve been meaning to ask you how the new delivery system has been working out. Have you had any complaints?”
Ella shook her head. “Not at all, it’s been great. With Mrs. Knightsbridge delivering them for me, the pages are getting in on time, and they’ve extended my contract for another year.”
Leah perked up. “Are you still on Admiral Action?”
“Yeah. They say sales have nearly doubled in the past three months, and there’s talk of a movie in the works too.” Ella grinned. “Just think, maybe I’ll get to drag you guys to a Hollywood premier sometime soon.”
“Freaking awesome,” Jamie said, then winced. “Damn it, this kid is going to some Irish step dancing or something when they get out. Right now they’re using my rib cage for practice.”
When Micah returned, Avery and Mrs. Knightsbridge were not far behind. Between them, they carried an enormous cake.
“My husband has discovered he’s pretty talented in the kitchen.” Leah nodded toward Avery.
“My wife has not,” Patrick joked. Ella elbowed him in the ribs, and he grunted good-naturedly.
“I’ve been banned from the kitchen by Cook. Trust me, it’s for the best.”
When the food table was set up, they all sat down in the living room, Ella snuggled tight against Patrick on the piano bench. They held hands as Micah stood up and addressed the group of friends.
“You all have my thanks for being here today. Jamie and I are thrilled to welcome a child into this amazing world, and even more so with the wonderful people that are here to greet him.”
“Or her,” Jamie interjected. Micah smiled indulgently.
“Or her,” he agreed. “Before the other guests arrive, Mrs. Knightsbridge wanted to speak with you all.”
Ella squeezed Patrick’s hand just a little tighter as the short woman stood and looked around the room with a special smile for each of them.
“There is much love in this room, and for that I could not be more proud or more thankful.” A little tear appeared in the corner of Mrs. Knightsbridge’s eye, and she rubbed it away. “I never intended to become a matchmaker, but I cannot deny the results in this room. Ella and Patrick here are my most recent success, and I cannot imagine putting together a couple more perfect for one another.”
