6 Your Grace, meet Your Grace
6
Your Grace, meet Your Grace
Benjamin
Today’s world is chaos.
Noisy, too fast, and surprisingly diverse. We’re leaving the shopping centre after buying my new clothes. I feel scared and sweaty, but I try to calm down in the midst of the euphoria. However, I’ve managed to see some advantages in all this hubbub. Although I’m still wearing my own clothes, I like the jeans, for example. An elegant and comfortable fabric, although I found them a little revealing because they were tighter. Miss Isabella, however, assured me that they weren’t, that I looked good in them. She even gave me an unseemly look.
I liked it too. More than I should have, I suspect.
I don’t know exactly what this lady does to me. Over the last few years, a lot has changed in my life, not as radically as waking up in the future, but I think I’ve ended up becoming a man who doesn’t even know himself. Before Barney went off to war, I was just a second son, with no titles to inherit and a great desire to enjoy life’s pleasures. I did, in fact, for years. Women, bohemian nights, gambling on friends’ estates… God, it seems like ages ago. Well, it was, considering my current situation. After my brother was killed on the battlefield, everything changed.
Not immediately. My father was still alive; the weight of the title was still only in the distant future. Nobody expected the Duke of Waldorf to die suddenly. But he did, so I had to abandon my libertine life and assume the mantle of responsibility. After all, I had a sister in my care.
Abigail… I wonder what she’ll think of all this madness, if she’ll believe me when I tell her what happened. If I tell her… because revealing this adventure would be risky. They might think I’m mad and send for the doctor. Then, there’s the chance that I won’t be able to return. No. I can’t be pessimistic. It’s better not to think about that possibility.
“I still don’t understand,” I say to her. “Don’t they wear boots anymore these days?”
“No. I mean, they do, but not these riding boots, unfortunately. They wouldn’t go with today’s casual style.”
“Casual? Is what we bought for me casual?”
Miss Isabella nods. “Yes.”
“Even my undergarments?”
She starts laughing. “That word is so funny.”
Is it? I don’t see why. “What could be funny about undergarments?”
“If I introduced you to the elephant underwear, you’d be surprised.”
Elephant what? Miss Isabella notices my expression and struggles to stop laughing.
“What you’ll be wearing now are boxers, Your Grace.” She runs her eyes over me, tilting her delicate neck to the side. “I imagine they will look excellent.”
I frown. What a rude and impolite comment for a lady. Not as rude as the shiver it caused in my body, but… well, she provoked it.
It seems I have no choice but to accept modern clothes. At least I’ll be dressed like everyone else while I figure out how to get back. The stares from others bother me a little, even though I’m used to being the centre of attention – ever since I became a duke, of course.
But I’m not being discreet in my stares at her, either. I try not to show it, but the clash of realities is too great. Immense. How could I have imagined that shopping centres would spring up, full of shop windows and strange lights, which I discovered were connected to electricity? According to Isabella, some people today don’t even know what a gas lamp is.
She told me that England has a new king, after more than seventy years with a queen, Elizabeth II. And that there was another great queen before her, Victoria, during whose reign much of modernity began. I also saw a giant metallic bird in the sky as we left the shopping centre, which she told me was an aeroplane, where people travel to all the corners of the world. Boats now are only for cargo or luxury, and journeys that used to take months are completed in a few hours. I think it’s a big step forward.
Society has also changed a lot, and that’s what pleases me the most. It’s shocking, but it’s progress. Parents walk with their children without servants around; there is no longer any issue with showing affection in public; and couples are formed in all kinds of ways: people of different races or the same sex. Women are free, more independent. They work; they don’t need to be married to guarantee a secure future, nor are they their husband’s property if they do. Miss Isabella gave me a brief summary of the history of the fight for these rights when we were on the Underground on the way home. I was very pleased with what I heard, and I definitely want to know more about it later. Which reminds me again of Abigail and why I need to go back to her, because in our time, things unfortunately don’t work like that.
“Tell me more about your writing career,” I ask Miss Isabella, in an attempt to distract me from my anxieties.
She sighs. “Well, I’ve been writing for a while; I started with fanfic on the internet.” I have no idea what fanfic or the internet are, but I don’t want to bother her with my questions again. “I studied, improved my writing, and published a few novels independently. At the same time, I was teaching English in Brazil, working two jobs. Then life happened and… well, creativity decided to take a holiday with no return date.”
I’m not sure what happened to her creativity, but she seems very upset about the situation.
“I live here,” Miss Isabella says as soon as we arrive in front of a brick building. I’m carrying bags for the first time in my life. If it hadn’t been for Isabella reminding me, I would have forgotten them inside the shop.
The task is not so bad.
“We’ll have to take the stairs because the lift broke down.”
She’s already explained to me what a lift is, and we even used one in the Underground. I also know about escalators, mobile phones, and Kindle, a formidable page-less library. If you told me one day that we could carry as many books as we wanted in our pockets, I would certainly have laughed.
This whole story only makes me realise that I know absolutely nothing about this strange world.
I stop as we reach the stairs of the flat, giving way.
“You can go up,” she says.
“Please.” I hold out my hand.
We climb the stairs to the third floor. I try to be a gentleman and not notice the buttocks in front of me, even though they are in evidence. I don’t want to be rude. Miss Isabella is always attentive to me, to my reactions. She would notice. I’d like to know what I’m feeling, what this whirlwind in my mind and this storm raging in my chest mean. At the same time, I try my best not to lose my head and throw myself into the Thames. I want to be grumpy, but how can I be if the woman keeps smiling at me?
She is the gentleness in all my chaos. How can someone I’ve only just met become my synonym for security?
“We’re here,” Isabella says as soon as we stop in front of flat 34. “Come in.” She gives me room to pass, but I hold out my hand.
“Please, you first.”
She blushes in an adorably sweet way. A way that makes my body wake up, suddenly anxious. Once again, I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. Once again, I don’t mind doing it.
As soon as Miss Isabella passes me, I go in and pull the white door shut. The corridor is dark, and the room smells good. Sweet, soft… her house smells like home.
“Duke?” she calls.
Is it me she’s talking to? Why is she calling me by my title?
“Duke, wher… oh, there you are, Your Grace.”
I’m very confused by her talking to me without looking at me, but before I can ask, I notice the four-legged ball of fur running towards us. The small dog, a Welsh corgi, also sees me. Dogs have remained the same in the future. I confess I’m happy to finally recognise something without difficulty.
He walks past Isabella, his eyes riveted on me. I’ve always loved animals, so much so that I felt uncomfortable when they made me go hunting. I’d go, but I didn’t put in any effort. I never saw the point in killing an animal for fun.
Leaving the bags on the floor, I bend down and pick up the little creature. He’s heavier than he looks, but he’s still a puppy.
“Hello, dog,” I say.
“Duke.”
“Yes?” I turn to Isabella, feeling a lick on my chin.
She laughs. I’ve heard many sounds today, but her laughter is the most beautiful.
“His name is Duke.” She points to the pet with a nod. “He seems to like you.”
I look at the dog, and then at her again. “Is the animal’s name Duke?”
She nods. “Yes. As well as being fancy, I once read a novel in which the coachman was called Duke, and I liked the idea.” She approaches and picks up the furry paw. “Your Grace, meet Your Grace.”
Fancy… centuries have passed, but the fascination with the title remains intact.
The dog blinks its round eyes and wiggles its ears at me.
“Pleased to meet you… Your Grace.” Dear lord, I am talking to a dog.
I leave the puppy on the floor, following Isabella into the living room. With a few exceptions, I can identify most of the furniture in the small space.
“What do you think?” she asks me.
“It’s great. Of all the places we’ve been, this is the most normal.”
She smiles again. “Make yourself at home. I’ll just show you…” Miss Isabella stops talking and takes her mobile phone out of her pocket. The surface, which I’ve learnt is called a screen, is lit up with various numbers and a portrait of a person. She explains the many functions of the object, but I’m confused about some of them.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, noticing her startled expression.
“No, nothing. It’s my father.” Isabella walks away from me, disappearing down the corridor. “Hi, Dad.”
I can’t see her, but I can hear her.
“Hi, darling. How are you?” The male voice sounds distant and clipped.
“Fine. The connection’s a bit poor – where are you?”
“In the street. I’m going to visit my grandad, but he’s not well.”
At the mention of her family, I realise that I know nothing about Isabella. Just the basics: that she lives with a friend and that she’s not from here. She told me she’s Brazilian when I asked about her accent.
I’ll have to correct that later. She’s giving me too much attention, and I think showing an interest in getting to know her is the least I can do.
“I’m sorry, my dad called.” She returns.
I must have got lost in my own thoughts because I didn’t hear the rest of the call.
“Are you alright? You look worried.”
She sighs, pushing her hair out of her face. “My great-grandfather is unwell, and my father is nervous. The man is already very old.”
“Allow me to ask you about your great-grandfather’s health.”
The lady presses her lips together. “Permission granted.”
“Is he bedridden? In a hospital? I can accompany you, so you don’t go alone,” I offer.
She denies it with a half-smile.
“He’s in Japan. There’s nothing to be done.”
“Do you have family in Japan and Brazil?”
“Yes. My parents are divorced.”
Divorced? That is a very rare situation.
“Divorces are common nowadays,” Isabella explains. “There’s still a legal process but without the difficulties of previous centuries. My mum and dad have been separated since I was a child. It was better that way, believe me.”
Well, what else could I do?
“Would you like to take a shower?” she offers. “You must be tired from all the excitement today.”
I’m not denying it, although I suspect I won’t sleep. “Can I have a bath?”
“Of course.” She stops, and her expression turns mischievous. “One question: are you used to showering every day?”
I frown at the unseemly question. “It’s not necessary every day, though…”
“Oh, no, no, no. As long as you’re here with me, Your Grace will bathe every day!” The dog reappears, jumping on her leg. “No, Duke. I didn’t call you. I’m talking to him, the other Your Grace.” Isabella laughs.
I continue, “I was going to say that, although it’s not necessary, I like to bathe every day. There are rare exceptions.”
She seems truly relieved. God, baths are nice, but for her, they seem like a vital necessity.
“So it’s agreed that we’ll both smell nice.”
No problem for me. I’ve already noticed her perfume. Isabella Kato smells of vanilla, which I like a lot.
She speaks again, “Come on, get your clothes and I’ll show you the bathroom.”
I obey the command without question. I’m an unexpected guest, and I really don’t want to be a nuisance. I take a change of clothes from the bag, choosing to wear pyjamas since it’s late afternoon. Miss Isabella guides me to the bathroom, switching on the light as soon as we enter the cubicle. The little animal with the noble name follows us.
“The bath is here. This towel is clean, and you can use the shampoo and soap all you like.”
“Shampoo is…”
She understands immediately. “A hair soap. Liquid, which is more practical. Take your time to relax and I’ll make us something to eat while you wash.”
Isabella starts to leave the bathroom, but I move.
“What?” she wants to know.
“I…” I shiver, crossing my hands behind my back. “I need someone to prepare me a bath.”
Miss Isabella presses her lips together in a thin line. Is she holding back a laugh? That’s the third time that’s happened. But I’m being honest. I don’t know how to prepare a bath. I’ve never had to.
“Of course, because you’re used to having your baths prepared. Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll prepare this one, and you watch so you can be independent and prepare the next ones.”
It makes sense that she wouldn’t want to carry out tasks like that.
“Of course, whatever’s best for you.”
“Fine, then watch this manoeuvre.”
She bends down and slowly turns a handle on the bath. As soon as the water starts to flow, I realise that the strange spout is a tap. And the water is probably thermal because the steam indicates that it’s hot.
I didn’t realise there were hot springs in London. It must be another change in the passage of time.
“And that’s it, Your Grace. Your bath is ready.”
In other words, all I have to do is turn on the damn tap.
The dog wags his tail as soon as he hears the two magic words.
“Considering that the dog is also called that and that nowadays you no longer use formalities, can we call each other by our first names?” I suggest. “I think it will be less confusing for the poor animal.”
She smiles, holding out her hand for me to shake. “Well done, Benjamin. Call me Bella, then.”
I return the handshake. “Too intimate. I don’t usually call other people by their nicknames. Well, except for my sister.”
“It’s three letters apart from Isabella.” She rolls her eyes. “Do you think you can make that effort?”
There’s a certain provocation in her voice. I like that. People, especially after I inherited the title, don’t usually talk to me like that. And deep down, she’s right. Three letters make little difference.
“Alright.” I agree, “I’ll call you Bella.”
“That’s great. If I feel we’re unequal, I can call you Ben. I think it’s… sophisticated.”
Ben . I’ve never been called that, but on her lips, I like the nickname. It sounds nice. “No problem.”
Bella bends down and picks up Duke, the dog. “Make yourself at home.” She smiles, walking away. “See you soon.”
I sigh as I close the door, listening to the sound of the water filling the bath, the steam fogging up the mirror over the sink. I’m so exhausted that even taking off my clothes takes a lot of effort.
As soon as I get nude and slide into the bath, I try to forget what happened to me and allow myself to relax.