11. The Man
In a flash, she was out of the woods and sitting in Richard’s dining room across from Margaret, no broken bones, no tangled mess of a body.
Ellen was now Richard. For the first time, she was a man.
Margaret locked eyes with him. Her piercing blues flashed a look of bewilderment across her face. Ellen—now Richard—worried that the switch was evident. He stared back at her, waiting to see if she would start to scream and panic. Margaret did neither of those.
As a man, Richard felt even more unnatural in the new body. In his previous switches, it had only taken a few moments to adjust. Now, he felt like a parasite forcing its way into an uncooperative host.
The pants wrapped around his legs felt like a new kind of prison. Hot. He felt hot and sticky and wanted nothing more than to get all of the clothing off his body and cool down.
The chair’s legs scraped against the solid wood floor, and his calves pressed against them as he stood. Margaret jumped in her seat, her gaze still transfixed on her husband.
“Excuse me.” He darted from the room, avoiding Margaret’s wide eyes and slack jaw.
Upstairs, he opened doors quickly until a top hat and a pair of men’s dress gloves assured him he had found the correct room. The door slammed shut behind him, and his pulse pounded. The suit felt like a creature clinging to his hot, moist skin, like it threatened to suffocate him.
His fingers worked to remove every article of clothing until he stood naked in the middle of the room. The cool air produced chill bumps that formed against the warm sweat that beaded on his skin.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. And whatever you do, don’t look down.
A timid knock rapped against the door. Richard whipped his head in its direction.
“Go away! I am not feeling well.” His voice was surprisingly steady as the truth spilled out from him.
“Richard, please talk to me. What’s happened? Let me in.” The doorknob rattled as Margaret attempted to enter the room.
“I said go away!” He projected more than he intended. Anger bubbled just under the surface of his emotions. It was going to take practice to keep them in check.
Richard stood still, naked and chilled. He waited until he finally heard the retreat of Margaret’s footsteps down the hallway.
He pulled back the covers of the bed, and the top hat and gloves tumbled off, joining the pile of discarded clothing on the floor.
The silk felt watery against his rough, hairy skin. He fisted the sheets up against his chin and stared up at the ceiling.
This is going to take some getting used to. He gulped. Just get it over with. You’ve been married to a man; it’s not like you haven’t seen a naked man before. He gulped again. Anger came easily, but bravery seemed to be in short supply. Typical.
He released a grip on the sheets and slowly slid his hands across his body, his mind aligned with the physical, and after a few minutes, his heart rate slowed. His breathing evened out, and soon a yawn escaped without warning. His eyes grew heavy as the weight of the switch overcame him.
I’m Richard. Theresa’s gone. Abigail’s gone. Jane’s gone. I can’t look back. I need to look ahead. I’m Richard. I’m Richard.
A fist pounded against the door, and Richard shot up straight in bed. Disoriented, he took a moment to take in his surroundings. The red silk sheets, drenched in sweat, were stuck to his body. He peeled the sheets from his skin as he stood.
Richard took a deep breath and turned to face the mirror.
Open your eyes, you wantwit! He stood upright. Wantwit? Where did that word come from? He shook his head and returned back to the task at hand and looked at his new body in the reflection.
The suspense was worse than the results. Richard realized that he looked like a normal man, nothing out of the ordinary, just like Samuel when he was Jane.
He shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation. Why didn’t I just switch with Margaret? A robe hung on the back of a nearby door, and he shrugged it on as a new round of knocks shook the door.
“Richard, it’s Kyle and Margaret. Please open the door. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Richard swung the door open with so much force that the air ruffled Margaret’s nightgown. Her hair was pinned up in curls against her head, and she had a purple sash tied around her round face. Her blue eyes were rimmed with red, and the deep purple hue below indicated she hadn’t slept.
Richard’s lip twitched back a smile, and he turned his focus to Kyle, a portly man who overindulged in the finer things in life.
His clean-cut hairstyle and three-piece suit portrayed him to the world as someone successful and important.
But his green eyes revealed that there was a playfulness to his demeanor inviting anyone to converse with him.
“I am well; I have never felt better, in fact. Please have the kitchen make me breakfast, something traditional and hearty. I have a lot of work I need to get done today, and I am not sure if I will have time to eat lunch.” Kyle nodded and turned on his heel.
Margaret watched him leave and returned her attention to Richard. Her eyes dropped down to his bare feet and paused on the robe, her pupils dilated as she stared at his chest.
He followed her eyeline and pinched the robe closed.
“As for you, why don’t you join me for breakfast? We have much to discuss.” The corner of his mouth tucked into a smirk as his brown eyes twinkled mischievously.
Richard closed the door before she could respond and leaned his back against the wood. Adrenaline coursed through him.
How I wish I could see her stupid, perfect face right now.
“Now to get dressed,” He whispered to himself as he crossed the room around the bed and stood before the armoire. The various articles of clothing seemed confusing.
As he pulled pieces out, his past fashion expertise was activated. Soon, he was fully dressed and ready to face Margaret and start her phase of the punishment.
Downstairs, the dining room aroma was a mixture of fresh-baked goods and sizzling meat. Margaret sat at one end of the table. Her tight ringlet curls framed her stoic face. As Richard entered the room, she looked up.
“I will likely be working overnight at the office, so don’t wait up,” he said as he sat to her right. Hope filled her eyes for a moment before lowering her dejected face to her oatmeal.
A butler approached and loaded a plate of fresh fruit, a biscuit, and some bacon. He cracked the poached egg with his spoon as the full plate was placed in front of him.
“What do you have that is so important to do on the second week of our honeymoon?” Her voice was heavy with accusation.
He shrugged. “Something important came up,” he replied.
Margaret narrowed her eyes. The spoon clanged against the bowl.
“Overnight?” She crossed her arms. Her expression hardened as Richard slowly brought a bit of egg to his mouth.
“Mm-hmm.” He scooped another bite of egg, holding eye contact with her.
“What has gotten into you? First you tell me you are going to take time off to focus on us and our honeymoon, and now you are telling me you must work?”
“After yesterday, and seeing how we hurt Theresa, I have been overcome with guilt,” Richard said with malice in his voice. “I need a distraction to clear my head. I believe attending work matters will accomplish that. I expect you to spend your time today in reflections.”
Silence settled as Richard ate quickly. His pulse raced as a new surge of excitement coursed through him. Never had he been so bold as to dictate another adult’s actions.
Children, yes. They were easy to influence and instruct on preferred behavior. But to give orders to a grown person with authority was unlike anything experienced in his previous lives.
“I don’t understand. We spoke many times about this, and we were sure that guilt was the one feeling we wouldn’t feel.” Margaret matched his defensive tone. “You aren’t going to make me feel guilty for loving you.”
“I am not saying that is why you should feel guilty. She was your friend, just as much as you were mine for many years.” Richard crossed his arms. “You should have told her of your feelings years ago. It would have saved everyone trouble, and it would have allowed her to pursue other possible marriage options.”
“Why does that even matter? She will move on and find someone else. There are plenty of eligible men in this town.” Margaret’s voice shook, tears pooled and threatened to fall.
“You should have been the one to move on once she and I were engaged.” Richard said, calm and collected.
This is a giant game, and I’m about to demolish her with my words.
“What?” Margaret whispered. “Why would you say that?”
Richard didn’t say anything, but looked at her with no emotion in his expression.
“You told me that you found her to be ridiculous and silly, immature, and nothing compared to the class and grace that I portray in all situations!” Margaret was yelling, now hysterical. Richard remained silent. He wanted the household to think of her as unstable.
“I only said that to get you into bed,” Richard said, taking a leap that perhaps they had slept together before getting married. “Besides, yesterday upon hearing the news about us, she showed class and grace in a way I had never seen before.”
Margaret’s face reddened, and her eyes darkened.
“Richard, I am not sure what has come over you, but you are not acting like the man I married.”
Richard worried for a moment that Margaret suspected the magic he possessed and hoped that she meant it as a figure of speech. She stood with such force that the dining chair tipped over and banged against the floor.
Richard stood slowly and picked the chair up. He gently placed it on its feet. Margaret faced the table, looking anywhere but at him. He leaned in close and whispered.
“Well, the damage has been done with Theresa. I want us to make amends with her, particularly you.” She stiffened at his words.