8 I could be right
8
I could be right
Benjamin
“What is it, Your Grace? What are your dilemmas?”
At the sound of Bach’s notes, Duke the dog blinks his round eyes and wiggles his ears, staring at me.
That’s what we did today. We faced each other.
Bella had to work, so I was left alone with the dog. She looked worried when she left the house, but I made sure I wouldn’t cause any problems. Very quickly, Bella introduced me to the fridge, the microwave, and Netflix, where I can watch plays through a screen.
Everything in the future has screens; it’s exhausting.
I also asked if there was a way of using the computer to do research. If I’m in the future, there must be some document that can give me some information about what happened, how they dealt with my disappearance, or what my sister’s fate was. Bella has done at least twenty searches since we met, according to her on a Google thing, a huge repository of information on the internet. I didn’t understand a thing, but I know it works. However, I couldn’t search for anything because I must have pressed the wrong button, and the computer didn’t obey me.
The result: idleness, without moderation.
“Alexa, please stop the music.”
The little round box lights up and the music stops playing. I was impressed by this modernity, an object that obeys voice commands. I realised that everything in the future is easier but also lazier. From what I’ve seen, most things require minimal physical effort. That can’t be very good in the long run.
“I’m home.” Isabella’s voice catches my attention, as well as the dog’s. “Hi, sweetheart. Hi, Ben, how are you?”
I stand up and nod slightly. “Bella. Welcome back. Yes, I’m fine, and you?”
She smiles at me. “Good. You don’t have to get up every time I enter the room.”
“Ah, I think I do. I’m a gentleman.”
She tilts her neck to the side, her eyes flashing something I can’t identify.
“Yes, you are.” Bella sighs. “How was your day?”
Discouraged, I sit down again. “I stared at His Grace to the sound of Bach’s notes.”
Duke wags his tail and seems to smile.
“Hmm, I see you, him, and Alexa got up to something,” Isabella jokes.
If you’d told me last week, in the midst of all that intense newspaper work, that today I’d be wasting time with a dog and a… strange round box, I would never have believed it. It’s my turn to laugh. Better that than crying.
“I couldn’t do my research,” I tell her.
“Why?”
“I pressed something wrong, and the computer didn’t obey me.”
Bella puts her bag aside and walks over to the computer on the coffee table. “Can I sit next to you? If you like, we can do some research together.”
The question bothers me. She’s in her own home; she shouldn’t be asking my permission for anything.
“Of course, please.” I gesture with my hand, standing up again until she settles down. “How was work?” I say as soon as I sit down again. I can smell the soft scent of vanilla as we get closer. Lovely.
“Good. Normal. Every day at the café is the same.”
“Do you work in a café? Tell me more about that.”
She seems surprised by my interest, but agrees, switching on the computer.
“Yes, I do.”
“I thought you were a writer.”
Which, when I found out, really amazed me. I’ve always loved writing, and I’ve never found someone with whom I can share my passion.
“I am, but I’m an independent one. I publish on the internet on a specific website. And I haven’t written in over a year now.”
“Why not?”
Isabella smiles humourlessly, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s a long story; I’ll tell you about it sometime,” she says.
I feel there’s something more there because I realise there’s a twinge of pain in her voice. God, do I already know her that well?
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”
“You didn’t, it’s just that the subject is really unpleasant. Tell me, what are we looking for?” She is talking about the research we are doing now.
I think for a second, putting my doubts about Isabella’s personal life to one side. There’s so much I’d like to find out. About me and about her.
“Well, I think we can start with my name.”
“Right.”
Isabella types so fast that I can barely follow the movement of her fingers.
“Look, this is your Wikipedia page.” She turns the screen towards me.
“What?”
“Wikipedia. Were there encyclopaedias in your day?” Isabella wrinkles her brow.
“Yes, in various volumes, in alphabetical order. They cost a small fortune.”
She seems more animated. “So, it’s the same, but on the internet, for free, and people can edit and add information.”
That easy? How curious and practical. The modern world never ceases to amaze me.
I stare at the computer screen, squinting against the bright lighting, and analyse the information about myself. There are no images, just a brief summary of my being the fifteenth Duke of Waldorf and some random data.
“Look, it says you were born on 4 November 1785, but there’s no date of death.” Isabella points her finger at the screen. “Are you a Scorpio? Wow, I would never have guessed.”
I think it’s funny that she guessed my astrological sign so easily. These mystical subjects aren’t usually discussed by women.
“Why not?” I ask.
“I don’t know, I just thought it would be something else. Although, thinking about it now, it makes sense. You have some Scorpio characteristics.”
“Like what?” Only Isabella could arouse my curiosity about something as illogical as the zodiac in the midst of a time-travelling crisis. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, who have I become?
“Ah, you seem loyal, attentive, sensual…” She stops talking, blushing immediately. “I’m sorry!”
I can’t help smiling, and I don’t blame myself for it. Let’s not forget that before becoming a responsible, commitment-phobic duke, I had my naughty days.
“No, no, please continue,” I tease.
Isabella nudges my arm. “Benjamin, stop embarrassing me! You’re doing it on purpose.”
We start laughing together, and I feel normal and light for five seconds. “You started it.”
“You must know you’re handsome – it’s no secret.”
Yes, I’m not falsely modest. I’m vain, and I really appreciate women enjoying my company and looking at me with desire. But Isabella… it’s different when I think she’s attracted to me.
“You’re beautiful too, Bella. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
She’s really blushing now, a flush creeping up the skin of her neck. And God, what the hell am I doing flirting with her? Still, I can’t take my eyes off her pretty face. I’ve got used to her loose hair, her sudden touches. I like them. I like her , because it’s impossible not to.
“Let’s get back to the research.” She clears her throat.
At least one of us has good judgment.
“Right…” I look at the screen again. “Why isn’t there a date of death? Do you think it might have something to do with my disappearance?”
Isabella opens her mouth, then closes it. “No, maybe they just didn’t register it.”
I don’t think so, and it seems to me that she’s trying to deny something very obvious. I continue to read the tiny text. I stop, my heart racing at the sight of my sister’s name.
“This is Abigail Melissa Waldorf! Is there any information about her too?”
Isabella denies it immediately. “Not here, if the letters are in black, there’s no link.” I don’t understand anything at all. Bella adds before I can ask, “Let me open another tab.”
Isabella types my sister’s name into the bar at the top of the screen. Unfortunately, we don’t find anything apart from a few, according to Bella, social media profiles of some Abigails who aren’t her. I still can’t get over the fact that nowadays people have long-distance relationships. How can you live in society if everyone is in their own home?
While some advances are fantastic, others are very inconsistent.
“There really isn’t anything, Ben.” Isabella checks the screen once more.
“God in heaven, what happened to her? If Gustave handed her over to anyone, I swear…”
“Gustave?” Isabella asks me.
“My cousin. He’s the next heir to the title, considering I have no children or nephews. The man is a scoundrel; he only thinks about taking advantage of others. He would certainly spend my fortune on courtesans and drinks, if not on something worse. And he would be legally responsible for Abigail in my absence, but I’m sure the bastard would try to get rid of her at the first opportunity, marrying her off to anyone or something worse. Abigail would be lost in his hands.”
The mere thought of what Abigail might have suffered makes my heart drop into my stomach. If I don’t return, it means that she’s lost all of us, that she’s left alone. I don’t even know if there’s anyone she could ask for help. Maybe Howard could help her, but…
Wait, Howard! The newspaper!
“What’s wrong?” Isabella realises my epiphany.
“I own a newspaper in Bath. Can’t we get some information about it?”
“We can check. What was the name of the newspaper?”
“ The Daily Bath .”
She goes back to typing on the small keys. Several results appear on the screen. On the right-hand side, I recognise an image of one of the newspaper’s front pages.
“Here, this seems to be it.”
Bella clicks on the image. The page that appears is confusing, a bit of a mess.
“Wow, your newspaper was famous back then,” Bella comments, her eyes still on the screen.
“Famous?” I find that strange. The Daily was well known in Bath, but famous is too strong a word to define it. “What do you mean, famous?”
“It says that the newspaper was a tradition in the city from 1813.”
It’s still strange to think of this information as something from two hundred years ago. After all, for me, that time feels like yesterday. Literally.
“Yes, the year I founded it in secret.”
She looks at me. “In secret?”
“Yes, only a select group of people know that I’m involved with the newspaper. It wasn’t my choice but my father’s request. It could have been complicated for him if the family name was involved if any of the stories were about Parliament or its members. Later, when I inherited the title, it was a relief that I had followed his request.”
“But if nobody knows, how do you get to work?”
“My office is in the front house, and I visit there with the excuse of talking to my secretary, ‘a friend’,” I explain.
Isabella blinks her dark eyes, seeming to think.
“Right…” She looks at the screen again. “Well, it was only after 1817 that the newspaper came to prominence in the country, following the denunciation of a traitor to the Crown.”
I move my face closer to the computer, looking for the familiar name. Cornell! That traitor has really been exposed, which means that Howard decided to denounce him. Although I feel satisfied in a way, I wonder how things went on without me. If the paper was prestigious, someone had to finance it, and I doubt that my cousin would have done that, even if they had revealed my occupation to him.
“What else?” I ask Isabella, and she lowers the screen a little.
“Look, the name of the man in charge of the Daily until 1848: Jack Spencer.”
Jack? My best friend took over the newspaper? Why would he do that when he never wanted to take on any responsibility in life?
“What’s with the face? What does it mean?”
Her eyes are curious and intrigued. It’s not like she’s pretending to believe me.
“Jack Spencer was a good friend of mine. He was also the second son of a duke. We were friends with other rakes. But he lived in London; he had no interest in journalism. It doesn’t make sense.”
And here I am, referring to everyone in my life as if it were really in the past.
“Spencer,” she says. Bella bites her lower lip. “Let me see.”
Isabella opens a new tab and throws Spencer’s name up on the screen. We find little information. There is something about William Spencer, Jack’s father, and his successor, Flavian, who by the way fought in the war alongside Barney; they were close friends. I was surprised to discover that he had married. Flavian Spencer returned from the battlefields a completely different man, broken in every way. He came to us once to apologise for my brother’s death. As if the poor chap was to blame for something…
Apart from that, there’s nothing more detailed about them in the article. Damn, that’s hard.
“There’s nothing else, Ben. I’m sorry.”
I drop my body onto the sofa, running my hands over my face. I feel so tired and disappointed. “It seems that the more I search, the less I find. Is this lack of information normal?”
Isabella nods. “Yes, not everyone has their entire life published on the internet. But don’t be sad. Maybe, if you want, we can look for the information offline.” Bella tries to console me.
“Where?”
She shrugged. “Libraries, museums…”
The mention of the word reminds me of something she said earlier. “Wait a minute! You said my house became a museum, didn’t you? That day in hospital.”
“Yes, Google Maps showed that.”
“Could there be more detailed documents about my family there?”
Isabella moistens her lips. Even though I’m a bit agitated, the movement catches my attention. They’re plump and full, perfect for kissing. For God’s sake, I can’t be thinking about kissing Isabella in a situation like this. But I am. A lot.
“I don’t know, Ben, but the house is in Bath, right?” she asks, helping me to refocus.
And yes, Bath is a long way from here. I’d forgotten that detail. I fall silent again, trying not to despair. What am I going to do now? Not only do I not know how to get back, but I also have little idea what happened.
“Look, what if we go there?” Isabella suggests. “I could see about a train or bus ticket. Bath isn’t that far away.”
“The journey from London to Bath takes days, Bella.”
“Before, with carriages, it might have done. Not now, with modern transport.” She smiles again.
The room becomes brighter and my chest a little less compressed. I take a moment to stare at her beautiful face so determined to make me feel better. But tickets, as far as I know, cost money. She doesn’t seem to lead a miserable life, but I realise that I’m an unplanned expense.
“Bella, I need to ask you something, but please don’t get angry with me.”
“Of course, what is it?”
I pause for a moment, measuring my words carefully. “Why are you doing all this if you don’t believe in me?”
She blinks, looking embarrassed.
I continue. “I don’t blame you,” I explain. “If someone came up to me and said they were from… I don’t know, 1500, I wouldn’t believe it either. But I know you’re treating me well out of pity.”
“It’s not pity…” she retorts.
“Nor is it because you believe I am who I say I am.”
Isabella lets out a breath, brushing her straight hair out of her face.
“OK, I admit you’re right. I think you think you’re telling the truth, but it’s all just some mental confusion from hitting your head.”
I laugh without humour. “Is that what the doctor said?”
Isabella nods. “He said it will pass, and if it doesn’t, we can book a doctor. But I really believe you’ll get better!”
No, I won’t, because I’m not confused at all. However, Isabella won’t believe me, so I think I’d better be honest.
“Bella… I don’t know what else to say. You can stop trying so hard, stop coming up with ideas.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Everything. You don’t have to listen to my stories, ask questions as if you’re interested, suggest going to the museum, that sort of thing. It’ll just generate more expense for you, and I really don’t want to take advantage of the situation.”
“But I really think that going to the museum will help you.”
I turn on the sofa. The movement causes my knee to touch hers. “How would that help me?”
“I thought that seeing everything up close, you might realise that you’re not Benjamin Waldorf. That you’d remember your name and your family. I just want you to get better, Ben.”
Yes, I know that. The poor girl’s been devoting her whole time to me ever since she hit me with the scooter.
“What if it doesn’t work? What if I leave even more convinced? What if you are convinced? If you realise that I’m telling the truth and that all this crazy sorcery is real?”
Isabella laughs, and it’s not the kind of laugh I like.
“I’m serious, Bella.”
“I know, but you have to admit that the chances of that happening are almost zero.”
“Why is that?” I’m a bit annoyed now. “Why are the chances zero ? If I believe that I’m here, that you’re from the future, that you live in 2022, why can’t you believe that I’m from 1817?”
She doesn’t reply. I feel like an arsehole for my words, but I’m really frustrated.
“You’re right; it’s not fair on you,” she says. “Let’s make a deal: I’ll buy the tickets to the museum. We’ll go there and see what happens.”
“What if nothing changes?” I ask.
“At least we tried something. We can’t just sit here and do nothing, Benjamin.” Isabella reaches for my hand. The warm touch causes a different tremor in my body. Something good that I don’t want to end. “Please don’t be angry with me.”
“I’m not angry, Bella. Forgive me, I just…” I turn my palm over and her fingers caress my skin. “I’m just exhausted, worried about my sister. I don’t know what to do.”
Isabella now entwines her fingers in mine, giving me reassurance and comfort. Our hands are a perfect fit, firm and soft at the same time.
“Let’s find your origin. Whether it comes from the past or you’re confused, it doesn’t matter. Everything will work out; trust me.”
Even against all logic, and probably only because this request comes from her , I trust that it will. It’s all I have left.