On a Night Black

by Cherie Mitchell

  The group arranged themselves in a jovial circle in the living room, sprawled across the couch or seated in chairs, stuffed full from their meal and languid from the alcohol. Darcy, appointing himself in the role of master of ceremonies, clapped his hands to gain everyone’s attention. “Look to your right. The person sitting there will issue you with your question or command. Now look to your left – that person will receive your question or command. Are we clear?”

  Elliot immediately looked to his left to meet Ramona’s dubious gaze. She did not look at all thrilled to be on the receiving end of one of his questions or commands. Amy merrily leaned over from his right side and poked him in the ribs with a pointy finger. “Watch out, Elliot. I could prove to be your worst nightmare.”

  “More likely my fondest dream,” he said smoothly. He wasn’t worried about anything that Amy might ask him to say or do. They’d already covered most subjects in their conversations together. However, the thought of Ramona having to answer any question he chose was enthralling. Where would he begin?

  Darcy started the round, clearly a veteran of this game. He twinkled his green eyes at Lani on his left. “Now my dear, what shall I command you to do?”

  Lani pretended to groan and shrink back in fear but she needn’t have worried. Darcy commanded her to do the sailors’ hornpipe and she was more than happy to hitch up her skirt and dance a jig in front of everyone, lapping up the attention as her crown fell off and her skirts inched higher.

  Elliot watched Ramona growing more and more uncomfortable as his turn to direct her to say or do something of his choosing crept closer. He knew she would escape if she found the chance and he silently wished for everyone to hurry up so it could be his turn.

  The game reached Amy on Elliot’s right and she was already giggling before she produced a corset from goodness knew where and asked him to wear it. “That’s a woman’s garment,” he spluttered, appalled at the very idea. “Besides, I’ve grown far too fat since I’ve been here to attempt to wear something like that.” The truth was, he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Ramona but he couldn’t say that, not while she was watching him with that enigmatic smile of hers.

  Amy’s eyes danced with devilment. “So does that mean you’re going to do all the dishes on your own?”

  He looked over at the kitchen, where dishes, bowls, and pots sat heaped in mountainous and messy piles. He had a dishwasher at his apartment, just as Ramona did here, but there was no way all those dishes could fit into the dishwasher. Washing dishes by hand was women’s work and not a task he enjoyed. He reluctantly stood up and raised his arms. “Tie it on.”

  Amy cackled and Elliot grimaced as she took her time lacing up the stiff corset. He had no idea how women could put up with this discomfort, and all for the sake of vanity. When she was done, he sat uncomfortably back on his chair while the other guests roared with laughter at his expense. However, now that his turn was done he could turn his attention on Ramona. She looked uneasy as he tapped his chin and he made a show of thinking about what to say.

  “I’ll give you a choice,” he said at last, having enjoyed his long drawn out moment while he watched her squirm. “You can either kiss every man in the room on the cheek or you can answer my question.” Naturally, there was a method in his madness. A kiss on the cheek from the delightful Ramona was close to what he really hoped for and why shouldn’t he have what he wanted on the night before he left?

  “What’s your question?”

  “Have you ever been in love?” He gazed into her deep blue stare, waiting for her to sigh dramatically before relenting and choosing which option suited her.

  “Do you know what? I’m going to bow out and forfeit my turn. I don’t mind doing the dishes on my own.” She jumped out of the chair in a rustle of long skirts and petticoats before anyone could say or do anything to stop her. “The rest of you can carry on playing without me.”

  Elliot was disappointed but he knew he should’ve expected this. Ramona always managed to find a way to avoid the questions that she didn’t want to answer or from doing anything she didn’t want to do. He leapt out of his chair to follow her, or as well as he could leap while wearing the restricting corset, forgetting for now that washing and drying dishes was supposed to be women’s work. “I’ll help you.”

  The game continued behind them as the couple worked their way through the piles of dishes. If Elliot had thought this was an opportunity for some continued light flirtation with Ramona, he was very much mistaken. Ramona the flustered Victorian cook, Ramona the coy and sweet servant girl, and Ramona the owner of the rose-and-gold hued bedroom was gone and Ramona his efficient employer was back. She scrubbed at the dishes and answered with monosyllabic replies when he tried to ignite a conversation and he soon fell into silence, sadly aware that the earlier gaiety of the evening had left her for reasons he couldn’t determine.

  Chapter Seven

  Elliot met Darcy and Ramona outside her apartment block early the next morning, just as they had arranged. She nodded a greeting and continued talking to Darcy as Elliot walked up, and the trio set off across the street to the woods without discussing anything further. Elliot patted his coat pockets, making sure he’d brought everything he needed. He had his phone and the tablet Ramona had given him, along with a few sachets of instant coffee to tide him over until his return. He’d decided there were some things he couldn’t cast aside, regardless of which era he stood in.

  The time machine lay amongst the weeds in the small clearing, a gleaming golden box capable of vast magic but invisible to most people who glanced its way. The whole contraption now looked more than a little flimsy and lopsided with the addition of the sidecar. Elliot inspected it doubtfully. “Have you tested this, Darcy?”

  “I arrived here well enough, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but did you travel in the main capsule or in the sidecar?” Several large leather straps and clunky buckles attached the bullet-shaped sidecar to the main box. Elliot thought it looked to be an uncomfortable and cramped fit for a man who had put on weight due to the abundance and variety of food available.

  Darcy flapped his hand, as if the question was unimportant and unnecessary. “I travelled in the main capsule but I can assure you that the sidecar is perfectly safe.”

  “So which part do you want me to climb into?” Elliot already knew the answer to this. That wobbly, cobbled-together sidecar was to be his transportation back to 1889 while Darcy took the larger chamber.

  “You can use the sidecar. I’ll travel in the main chamber in case anything goes wrong.”

  The more he heard about this, the less he liked it. “In case something goes wrong? We will get back there in one piece, won’t we?”

  “Don’t worry, Elliot. The corporation wouldn’t be sending you back in it if they thought there was a real possibility of any danger or harm.” Ramona gave him a terse smile but he glimpsed a dull smudge of concern in her eyes before she bent to study the interior of the sidecar.

  “No, there’s absolutely no possibility of any danger or harm. I can vouch for it myself.” Apparently tired of this subject, Darcy held his arms wide and scooped Ramona into a warm hug. “Thank you again, my dear. It’s always a pleasure. Your party was superb, a pure delight. It made my millennium.”

  Elliot felt a pang of jealousy as he watched the couple embrace. He wouldn’t dare to pull Ramona into his arms like that after the cool manner in which she’d ended the evening, although there was nothing he wanted more. Darcy released her and turned back to his machine, fiddling with a couple of the knobs on the dashboard and resetting a lever. He stepped back at last, placed his hands on his hips, and nodded his white and whiskery head in approval. “She’s ready for action.”

  “Well, I guess this is it.” Elliot angled a quick glance at Ramona. The realisation had suddenly hit him that this would be the last time he saw her for… how long? 1889 felt like an enormously long way away from 2020, whichever way he looked at it.

/>   “I guess it is.” She didn’t move to close the small distance between them as Darcy industriously thumped the door of the machine back on its hinges.

  “I’ll call you.” He touched his hand to the coat pocket where he’d stored his tablet, pre-loaded with the Com-Dec app and ready to connect.

  “Mmmm.” She took a step forward and for one wonderful, confusing moment, he thought she was going to hug him. However, instead she reached for his wrist where the era decoder lay against his pulse. “You won’t need this where you’re going. I’ll keep it safe until you return.” She unfastened the catch and slipped off the band but he thought she might’ve have left her fingers pressed against his skin for a few seconds longer than necessary. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

  “Come along, come along. Time’s a’wasting.” Darcy tapped his fingers impatiently on the golden metal of the time machine and the surprisingly loud thunk-thunk curled up into the branches of the surrounding trees. A bird cried out in alarm and flapped clumsily away. “Climb aboard, young man, and make sure you snap the cover into place.”

  Elliot held Ramona’s gaze for as long as he could before turning and opening the cloudy, domed top of the sidecar. “We’ll talk soon.”

  “We will. Bye Elliot. Bye Darcy. Good luck.” She stepped back into the shelter of the trees and the last thing Elliot saw before he pulled the frosted Perspex cover of the sidecar down to lock himself into the cramped, dim interior was her watchful and worried face.

  “Hold on tight!” Darcy’s muffled voice echoed through the wall, a loud humming noise started to vibrate through Elliot’s bones and teeth, and then he felt as if he was tipping forward and unable to stop himself from falling. There was nothing to hold onto inside the capsule, his neck was bent and his head wedged painfully onto his knees, and there wasn’t enough room to stretch out his arms in any direction. Panic and claustrophobia had just started to set in when the machine came to an abrupt halt and the humming sound faded into an expectant silence.

  “Good-o.” Darcy sounded pleased with the outcome of the journey, although Elliot was not able to see where they were. His entire vision was filled with the sight of his own black trouser-ed knees and his nose was squashed against the fabric. “Hold your horses there for a few minutes, Elliot. I’ll get you out shortly so you can stretch your legs.”

  Elliot held his breath and waited, unwilling to move for fear of getting a cramp in his calf. The machine rocked as Darcy climbed out and he heard the inventor mutter something unintelligible. A minute or two later, the sidecar’s cover was flung back and Darcy was beaming down at him. “That didn’t hurt a bit, did it? I told you it was safe.”

  “Are we at your house?” Elliot accepted Darcy’s offered hand and allowed the man to help him unfold himself from the confines of the capsule, expecting to see Darcy’s front room as he stood up. However, this was nothing like any room he’d seen before, not in 1889 or earlier and certainly not in 2020. The room was narrow and stark, with large rust-spangled metal hoops attached to one bleak, unpainted wall. A tiny barred window set too high in the wall to see out of allowed only a thin wedge of grey light to fall into the room. A heavy metal door with overly large hinges completed the miserable scene and the smell of mould and damp permeated everything. “Darcy, where are we?”

  “We’re close to my house. It seems we’ve taken a little detour.” Darcy sat his glasses on the end of his nose and hastily adjusted a few buttons on his control panel. “The coordinates are a bit off.”

  “What is this place?” The odour was appalling and Elliot found the overlying stench of decay and rot almost overwhelming in the muted gloom of the room.

  “We’ll be on our way again soon. It’s just a minor hiccup.” Darcy cocked his head, listening intently as footsteps hurried past outside the door. He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Hopefully no one will be any the wiser that we were ever here.”

  “Where are we?” Elliot shivered violently but it wasn’t just the damp chill in the room that sent shudders along his spine. This room felt like a physical embodiment of hellish misery.

  “Peckham House Lunatic Asylum, if my memory serves me correctly. Get yourself back into the sidecar and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Peckham House? Why are we here and how do we know that we’re heading to where we’re supposed to be?” Elliot was reluctant to climb back into the capsule now. He had no guarantee of their next destination and despite Darcy’s faith in the machine, he wasn’t prepared to trust it. “You told me this was safe.”

  “It is safe.” Darcy glanced at the door as more hurrying footsteps rushed past outside, Seconds later, an eerie, teeth-tingling scream slid under the door and dragged its sharp nails down the grey walls. Darcy’s ruddy face drained of colour. “Quick, quick, get in. There’s no time to dally.”

  Elliot was happy to comply. He squeezed back into the sidecar, grabbing for the cover as it clattered back down to seal him in. Peckham House Lunatic Asylum was not a place he’d ever hoped to see the inside of, even with an immediate but dubious means of escape at his disposal.

  “We’re off again. Won’t be long.” Darcy called out cheerfully as the taut vibrating hum of the time machine began again, turning the marrow of Elliot’s bones into agitated liquid. “I can smell that marmalade and toast already.”

  Elliot crossed his fingers beneath his bent knees, just wanting this all to be over with and the time travelling finished for now. He didn’t share Darcy’s confidence in his invention and the gnawing worry that he’d never get back to 2020 swooped and niggled like an irritating gnat at the back of his brain. Leaving the modern world and lovely Ramona behind forever just didn’t bear thinking about.

  Chapter Eight

  Elliot might have imagined it, but he thought Darcy sounded immensely relieved and a little surprised to see that the machine had landed safely back in his own front room. Elliot certainly was, especially after recently witnessing just how dire the interior of the asylum was for the unfortunate incarcerated. He climbed out of the sidecar and jumped down onto the floor to brush himself off, glad to be free of the claustrophobic sidecar. “Does that happen often?”

  “Does what happen often?” Either Darcy had a terrible memory or he was pretending the Peckham House incident was nothing but a bad dream.

  “A detour, as you called it. How often do you end up where you aren’t supposed to be?”

  “Not too often.” Darcy leaned across the table and slammed the cover of the sidecar shut. The noise reverberated around the small room and the edge of one of the Darcy’s pinned notes flapped against the wall in the sudden whoosh of breeze. “Hungry? I think tea and toast sound like a marvellous idea.”

  “It probably wouldn’t hurt me to skip a meal or two.” He’d almost forgotten how chilly these old rooms were, how the smell of smoke from the brick kilns outside clogged the air and darkened the sky, and how there seemed to be an absence of light everywhere inside a house. His bright and spacious apartment with its large windows looking across the Thames felt as if it were more than a hundred lifetimes away from here.

  Darcy muttered to himself about coordinates and altered routes as he led the way through to the kitchen and dining room. Elliot glanced at the fantastical pictures on the walls, no longer quite so stunned by the scenes they depicted. He’d seen and experienced wonders beyond his wildest imaginings in 2020, including his very own automobile, and he was no longer the naïve and ingenuous Victorian man he’d once been. It was amazing how life could alter so significantly in such a small amount of time.

  Darcy filled the kettle with water and placed it on the hob before fumbling to light the gas. Elliot pulled one of his coffee sachets out of his pocket and tore off the top so he could add the granules to a cup. “I need a coffee after that unexpected drama.”

  “You were never in any danger. It was a minor blip, nothing more.”

  “We were inside a locked room at a lunatic asylum,” Elliot enunciated the wo
rds slowly to drive home his point. “That scarcely sounds like a minor blip to me.”

  “Fiddlesticks. I had it all under control. Now, you can have the room you stayed in the last time you were here. First door on the left at the top of the stairs. My house is your house - make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you.” Elliot took his coffee and carried it over to Darcy’s small, round table. A shrub outside the window moved and bobbed in the breeze, scratching its branches across the pane in a harsh sound that enhanced the cold feeling in the unheated house. Elliot hunched his shoulders inside his coat, glad of the warmth of the thick woollen fabric. “What’s the plan now that I’m here?”

  “Yes, I meant to talk to you about that, but of course last night’s jovial party atmosphere was no place to talk shop.” Darcy fussed around, placing a jar of golden orange marmalade on the table and toasting several thick slices of bread in a skillet before joining Elliot at the table. “Ramona made a genteel and welcoming host.”

  He decided to be candid now that Darcy had raised Ramona’s name. What did he have to lose? Nothing ventured, nothing gained as the old saying went. “She seemed upset when I asked her if she’d ever been in love. I felt as if I’d killed the good mood of the party. What do you know about her personal history? She doesn’t talk a lot about herself.”

  “And with good reason. She hasn’t had the easiest of lives, a lot like yourself.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that. Can you tell me anything more?”

  Darcy took his time in replying, carefully selecting a well-browned slice of bread and liberally covering it in chunks of sticky marmalade. A stray sunbeam broke through the cloud and smog outside and shone through the window, making the jar of marmalade glow like a lantern in the night. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you anymore than what I’ve already told you. Once Ramona is comfortable with you, she’ll share her story herself.”