Chapter 34
“I should stay behind. You’ve done so much for me; you should relax at Osborne and I’ll stay out of your way.” Permanently out of your way.
“Nonsense. You can’t stay here alone. Who will take care of you?”
Me. Myself. I. Take your pick, lady. Also, all the staff that will still be here will make sure I don’t starve or steal anything.
This is part of the past I’m not so eager to be experiencing. I would much rather only read about this in a book.
“It’s really fine. You work so hard already, I don’t need to be one more thing you have to worry about.” I don’t try to change her mind about independence and women’s capabilities. She’s a lady monarch; if she doesn’t think other women can be as capable as her, nothing I say will help.
“Anne is already packing for you and will make sure your things get on the carriage. You shall come with me after I finish eating.”
There’s not much leeway there. I peek over to the open door and potential escape route. But since I’ve gotten here, activity has exploded in the hallway. Footmen are running around, getting ready to move the queen’s household. Apparently, this was decided last-minute.
There’s too much activity for a quiet escape now. I don’t know if Victoria has issued orders to keep me inside, but now isn’t the time to figure it out.
“Do you want to write a letter to your marquess? A footman can tell him where you have gone when he comes to call, but it would be better coming from you. Men do get offended so easily,” Victoria says.
“Oh. Yes. I’ll write that letter.” Except now Victoria has me thinking about Leo and how at some point, he was going to come back here, hopefully changed out of yesterday’s clothes and some unlucky footman was going to tell him that I left without saying goodbye.
I think he’ll be disappointed. He hasn’t said how he feels about me, but he must care beyond a fuck buddy. He keeps coming to call, taking care of me, and helping me get home. And failing that, he took me on a sightseeing day he didn’t have to, just to cheer me up.
So he’ll be at least a little hurt that I abandoned him without notice. The thought of him hurt, and me causing that hurt, makes my own heart ache. And that is on top of me already not feeling great at the thought of losing the man I love.
But it’s too hard to tell him my decision. And I don’t want him to talk me out of it. He might be able to do. If anyone or anything here has a chance of convincing me, it’s him. I already kind of want to make a home here with him myself, so it wouldn’t even take much convincing from him.
Victoria takes the decision out of my hands by calling for some paper and a fountain pen for me, so concerned about Leo being disappointed if I left. When a footman brings the requested materials, I start writing. Maybe I do owe him a goodbye. A written one, to do the bare minimum.
Leo,
I’m sorry I’m not telling you this in person, but I’m leaving. And now I’m sorry that I wrote that so abruptly—without easing you in. But I don’t know what to say to soften those words, and the effect that they may or may not have on you.
I’m going to Osborne first with Her Majesty. Then it’ll be time to find a way home.
Thank you for all your help while I’ve been here. It’s no exaggeration to say I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. You’ve given me protection, joy and occasionally wisdom. You’ve made my time here perfect.
I hope you find what you need to make your life perfect. Because you’ve come to mean a lot to me.
Even if you are a hedonistic Lord of the Manor.
I’ll miss you.
Meera
“Ready with the note.” I hold up the folded paper to find Victoria’s plate clear and her looking at me in amusement. How long was I working on that? Probably a long time, because I had to stop multiple times to keep the tears back and compose myself. And then the pauses to figure out what to say.
She shakes her head. “Young love. We can invite Basildon to come with us, if you would like?”
“No!” Victoria looks taken aback by my vehemence. “I wouldn’t want to disturb him. He has a lot to do in the city.” Whatever lords do.
“We shall be at Windsor before you know it. I do not know when we will be back in London, but Windsor is no long journey for a persistent man like Basildon.”
“Yeah. I’ll see him before I know it.” If I get home, I’m going to Google him, first thing. Even before a shower with adequate water pressure/temperature or a long Netflix binge. Even if I have to purchase an entirely new phone in modern London to access the internet to do it.
And if I don’t make it back, eventually I’ll take to a life of in-person stalking. From afar, though.
I hand the letter off to a footman, resisting the urge to edit it within an inch of its life like I do with the articles I submit to academic journals.
Should I have tried to ease into telling him I was leaving? Should I have told him how I feel, not just hinted at it? Should I have used that em-dash?
The footman is already out of the room before I can call him back to implement some of those changes, and Victoria is commanding me to follow her out to her carriage.
Maybe the Isle of Wight is where I should be. The universe spit me out there. Maybe it wants me to live there. Or maybe there’s a magic portal there to get home, like there was to bring me here.
A girl can hope. Even when she’s not entirely sure she wants to leave Leo anymore.
* * *
Later that evening, we arrive at the Isle of Wight, and Osborne House is just like I remember it, but I’m a lot less confused and only a little panicked this time. And a lot more confident. I’ve outwitted an entire royal court for this long; I’m prepared for anything now.
Not dealing with my feelings for Leo in a healthy way, but anything else. Luckily, I don’t have to deal with any crises, and it’s a quiet night at Osborne House.
The next morning, Victoria leaves me to do her work and her lessons with Abdul. I’m at a loss for what I need to do. For the first time since I’ve been in the past, I have no callers or Leo, no idea what to do, and too much sadness and hopelessness that can’t be pushed down with a cup of tea.
I’ll still try, because even sad tea is better than being sad without tea. Which is why I’ve drunk approximately seven cups of the liquid comfort in the past twenty-four hours that I’ve been at Osborne.
They don’t solve any of my problems, but I’m very well hydrated.
“Good afternoon.” Anne walks into the room, probably relieved to find me where she left me for once. I can’t have made her job easy while I’ve been here.
“Hello. Can you sit with me? Have some tea?”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Please do. It’s very quiet here.” I didn’t think I was incapable of being alone.
When I’m not teaching, I spend plenty of time by myself in the library or at my apartment.
But it doesn’t feel like I’m alone because I’m busy grading, researching, or writing, or I can turn on music or the TV.
Not really an option here. Not that there aren’t music devices, but the music here isn’t exactly Sabrina Carpenter.
“It would really help me if you would sit with me for a bit,” I say.
“I know it must be hard without your young man.”
“No—yeah.” What the hell? I have no pride here to protect. “I’ve gotten used to having him around.” And maybe it isn’t the biggest lie. Anne might think I’m crumbling because I haven’t seen my gentleman caller in a day, but I am sad that I won’t see him ever again. Close enough.
Anne gives me a knowing look and sits down.
“Let me pour you some tea. And I’ll call for more refreshments,” I say before she can answer.
“I can do it.”
“No, it’s okay. You sit.” I could easily give up cooking and cleaning, but not doing anything for myself for this past week has been strange.
That’s another thing I read about in my scholar life that is wild to see in practice: the British aristocracy’s relationship with labor, and how a mark of the aristocracy and gentry was how little manual labor they did, including even dressing and bathing themselves.
But to see, to experience it, when I’ve lived in a modern world where I put my pants on one leg at a time, and by myself, is unsettling.
Anne, who I already know is great from all the times she’s ignored me doing objectively abnormal things and ignored when I fled from her chaperoning, is wonderful company.
We drink what feels like all the tea in the Isle of Wight.
And I only think of Leo a handful of times.
Maybe a dozen. A baker’s dozen, at most.
“I’ve noticed you like to see the sights. Maybe you would like to take a quick trip into town before dinner? It would take your mind off things. And then as soon as you know it, you’ll be back near London and seeing your Lord Basildon daily,” Anne says.
I ignore the entire last part of her sentence. “Yes. I would love to see a bit of the island.”
“Excellent.” Anne nods at me encouragingly, and we set off after she calls for someone to take the tea dishes.
On the way to town in the royal carriage, the salty sea air whips past us as the horses pull us closer to our destination. Seagulls squawk around us, adding to the idyllic beach village ambiance.
When we stop, I step out, and I’m in the prototype for the perfect English seaside town. There are cottages with thatched roofs, adorably painted doors and windowsills with just the right amount of scuffed paint to make it look rustic, and artfully arranged hedges and flowerpots.
Brightly colored signs vie for my attention, in case I wanted more tea, some food, or alcohol. One even wants to help me rent a bathing machine, which can roll me from the sand into the sea so men don’t get the chance to see even a hint of my skin while I enjoy the bracing, cold, sea water.
I hear waves crashing against the beach, the ocean out of sight behind the village cottages, and take a deep breath of salty seaside air.
I could live here; it’s calming. I could find a nice life here when I flee Victoria.
I still don’t know what I would do here, but that can be a task for another day.
“What would you like to do first?” Anne asks.
“Is there a bookstore?” Maybe there will be something there that can distract me from the drama in my own life.
Anne nods. “Right this way.” She starts walking in one direction, when we hear a yell that stops us in our tracks.
“Meera!”
I turn, the blood rushing from my face when I see who it is.