Chapter 4 #2
I’m slowly getting used to the idea, and with the distraction the party provides, I’m less despondent than I was an hour ago.
I ask a few too many probing questions to some of the highest aristocracy in this country, but Leo soothes any ruffled feathers with a reminder that I’m from India. How could I possibly understand the rules of polite society?
The same polite society that is, in the time I’m in, stealing land and resources from India with reckless abandon, while looking down on the people they’re exploiting. But I choke that down, because this crowd does not want to hear that, and I don’t want to be sent to the Tower of London.
Once Leo and I have made a lap around the dancefloor, we loiter by the French doors on one side of the ballroom, watching the crowd of couples in their intricate clothing, doing their complicated dances in front of us.
I’m glad to be with a professional partier right now, because the ballroom is getting hot with all the people and the open flames, and the open doors are letting in a little bit of a breeze.
Our tactical position also helps lessen the smell of the ballroom.
As nice as these people look, and even though they have access to warm water for baths and perfumes, they don’t have access to the good chemical-filled deodorants, and it shows.
I knew I would miss my phone if I ever went to the past; I didn’t realize how quickly I would miss modern deodorant.
I almost forget I’m screwed when a presence creeps up next to me. Creeps so subtly that I first get goose bumps warning me something is near, and then jump a half of a foot in the air when I realize a person has materialized next to me.
“Oh, hello.” I put my hand to my chest to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. Don’t need to draw any more attention to myself.
It’s the man from earlier who demanded I respect Victoria, who I now believe is the actual Queen Victoria. A dream wouldn’t have lasted this long. Or been this detailed.
Leo is less shocked at the man’s sudden appearance, and jumps in to introduce us. “May I present Charles Forsyth, Lord Wellesley, and the Secretary of State for India. Lord Wellesley, this is Her Royal Highness Meera Chopra of the Cooch Behar family.”
Ah. I know him. The man is awful as he uses his position to promote polices that will exploit and not develop India like cutting public programs such as irrigation projects and famine relief for a larger army presence, lives beyond his means, and cheats on his wife. And he’s rude.
“I found it odd that one of the Cooch Behar contingent was still here, and a woman no less. One who acts like neither an Indian woman nor an Englishwoman. I would not be attending to my duties if I didn’t find out more about you.
” What a fancy accent and innocuous words for such a threatening tone.
And not even a “hello,” or “nice to meet you” before he dives right in to subtly accusing me of lying.
Which I am. But still, he doesn’t know that. My heart rate roars back up, when I had just gotten it back under control after realizing when I was. It doesn’t help that Leo got distracted by someone saying hello to him and isn’t doing his usual smoothing over for me.
“When you put it like that, I guess it does sound odd. But here I am. How would I have gotten here if I wasn’t part of the group?” Answering a question with a question is good evasion. One of the first thing they teach lawyers, in a class called “How to Be Annoying,” probably.
“Then why are you still here? The Maharajah and his retinue left a few days ago. Why would they leave you behind? Unless you aren’t with them, and you are lying to all of us?
” He arches an eyebrow, making him look like a villain.
Probably the look he’s going for. I bet he practices the look in the mirror while being mean to puppies, the monster.
“We do not need more of you people taking advantage.”
I immediately grit my teeth and lock my muscles to hold my body back from flying at him like a wailing banshee at the “you people” remark.
“Yes, they have left.” I don’t offer an excuse for why I’m still here.
Not because I made a conscious decision to evade his questions, but because I have no idea what to say—no idea what will get me in the least amount of trouble while I’m still trying not to physically fight him.
And the Madeira is not helping. I’ve had a lot of it tonight, and I’m not even normally that quick on my feet. I need time to process information and write out a well-reasoned response that I can edit before submitting. It’s why I’m a scholar and not a lawyer.
Although being quicker on my feet would have helped scholar-me when my professor tore apart my thesis proposal during undergrad.
He was the first in a long line of people who don’t think there’s any value to studying people of color in English history, or anyone other than the aristocrats, really.
And the reason I didn’t bother trying to study it myself until grad school when another professor encouraged me to research whatever I wanted, as long as my papers cited legitimate sources and were well-analyzed.
“Why are you still here?” Charles isn’t letting this go anytime soon.
“I…am…” Going to take a damn improv class when I get back to the correct time period.
“Here to study. England does have some of the best tutors.” There’s no way he’s going to argue with me on that fact; he seems the type to be very certain of England’s superiority.
And I am studying these people, whether they know it or not.
“Tutors can travel to India. Why would your family leave you here?” he asks, not as flattered as I thought he would be.
“I…I…” Shit. This is it. I’m going to be caught and dealt with. Which now means hard labor, and that does not sound fun.
If they don’t hang me outright for lying to the queen.
Lucky for me, Leo rejoins the conversation. “Her Majesty said that she would take care of Her Royal Highness while she is here, as a ward. Did she not tell you that?”
I don’t know if she actually made me her ward, but I’ll take the lifeline.
And Victoria has acted as guardian to many colonial subjects who wound up in England, like Duleep Singh, Sarah Forbes Bonetta, Princess Gouramma, and Prince Alemayehu.
Although they did not live with her directly, she became their godmother and directed their lives, whether they wanted her to or not.
She has a soft spot that maybe bordered on a little weird for them, along with a very strong maternal instinct, so it isn’t out of the realm of possibility that she would do it for me.
Plus, this guy is a pompous prat, so I don’t see him wanting to admit the Queen kept him out of the loop on anything. Hopefully we can ride his arrogance right through the end of this party.
I send him a placid, I’m-definitely-not-up-to-anything smile. I heard from a show about heists that confidence really sells an outrageous lie, so I try that on for size. And although I’m not a great actor, I’ve never been this motivated to sell a lie.
Charles sputters. “Yes. Well. Of course I have the Queen’s ear on all important matters. She must not have thought enough of you to mention your stay.” Charles looks down his nose at me, wanting me to know we’re not even in the same stratosphere.
If he meant to hurt my feelings, he doesn’t understand that keeping to myself is preferable, not only in daily life but in this precarious situation.
If he wants to suggest he’s morally superior to me, he doesn’t know that I know he’s having an extramarital affair with his best friend’s wife, Lady Dumfries.
No one will find out in his lifetime, but a historian finds the letters in about eighty years.
The man is an ass in person, and even more awkward when it comes to seducing a woman in writing.
I don’t even feel bad that I laughed at him in the future when I read them.
In fact, when I get back, I might need to write a paper on the letters, just to publicize them some more.
Maybe someone will make a movie about how bad he is at seduction, and how disloyal a friend he is.
But even though I can’t tell him that or I’ll face very uncomfortable questions, it does calm down my panic slightly. No one here is perfect, and I know more about them than just about everyone else now or in the future.
I can use this to keep me safe.
Or get me burned at the stake. Sure, they’ve stopped doing that, but I don’t want to be the reason they start it up again.
“Yes. That must be it. I am supremely unimportant.” I smile at him like an amenable pod person, trying to look as harmless and unimportant as we just established I was. He’s taken aback by my easy agreement.
Charles clears his throat. “Still, unimportant though you are—”
Great, I am definitely going to need to talk to a therapist after this. Not only because I thought I time travelled, but because my self-esteem is suffering here.
“It is very unusual for the Queen to make arrangements without telling her staff. Perhaps we should call her over and verify some of the particulars of this…story.” He sniffs derisively after the word, leaving me no doubt as to what he thinks about me and my story, as he turns to call Victoria over.
That would be bad. Why did Leo have to name-drop the Queen? Maybe he thought the audacity of the lie would carry me through, but it’s not working out that way.
“How is Lady Dumfries these days?” I say in a panic, tossing out anything that will stop him from looking at me.
What the hell? I’m not usually so reckless and mean, but it’s desperate times. And, Madiera. It might be watered down, but you can just drink more and then it’s like it was a normal strength. Which is what I did.
The man turns an interesting shade of red. And puffs up like a balloon. It’s fascinating to watch. “Why would you ask me that? Go ask her husband if you want to know.”
“My mistake. I thought you two were friendly.” I say the last word with as much lascivious implication as I can, like my life depends on how salacious I can make this word sound. And it might.
And people say there’s no use for history. How do you like me now?
“You are mistaken. And I’ll thank you to not mention our names together again. It could only hurt the good lady.” He rushes off without getting my promise that I won’t say anything else, and without asking me any more questions.
Oh, could it hurt her? You’re so concerned with her? Or could it hurt your image as a family man when you try to run for Prime Minister in this morally conservative time?
“What mischief was that about?” Leo asks, not understanding what happened in the last minute.
“I thought I saw him talking to her earlier, that’s all. I don’t do mischief,” I say. Although if you’d asked me ten minutes ago, I would have said I don’t do blackmail either. Yet here we are. My morals the first thing to go in a desperate situation.
“You just need more practice.”
“That I do not need. What I need is a place to stay.” Charles did remind me that I have no idea what to do when this party ends. He’s also still glaring at me from across the room. But away from Victoria, so I don’t think he confronted her about my lie. Yet.
The walls of this situation are slowly closing in on me, and the smart course of action would be to get out of the room.
Leo sighs. “I thought we were going to ignore worries for the night?”
“That might be easy for you to do, but my quickly upcoming future is about to punch me in the face if I don’t figure this out.”
“Yes, I suppose my own worries are getting harder and harder to ignore as well.” He looks around like whatever caused that cryptic comment is going to jump out at him from behind some silk curtains and club him with responsibility.
Then he snaps his eyes back to me. “But we shall fix this for you. If you refuse to have any more fun until your present problems are solved, we shall solve them. I have an idea.”
“It’s not going to be that easy.”
“Of course it is.” Leo takes my hand without any input from me and tugs me where he wants to go.
Which appears to be right toward Victoria.