Chapter 40
One Month Later
“Have we ordered the new magnets for the gift shop?” I ask.
“Done,” my hyper-efficient assistant, Mary, says as she consults her tablet.
“Which new scones are we going with for the tearoom?”
“We’re divided about fifty-fifty on that. We’ll need you to break the tie.”
How difficult my job is. But someone has to do it. “And did the curator from Longleat House let us know about the items for loan?”
“They are signing the contract for the exhibition as we speak.”
“Excellent.” Then they’re not too mad we took their title of first stately house in England to open to the public on a commercial scale.
Not that they know we stole that particular title.
But I think they can sense it, and that’s why they made negotiations for my “Indians in the English Country House” exhibit items slow and painful.
“Thank you for your hard work, Mary. Why don’t you take the afternoon off and get started on your weekend early? ”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll be here if anything comes up. You enjoy.
” I never thought I would be this happy to live at my job.
Especially since Leo made sure the trust has been updating the house, but especially my room in particular, with all the modern amenities, including a modern, en-suite bathroom, recessed lighting, and Wi-Fi.
And a very expensive heating/cooling system.
Someone even added a TV and a small kitchen in the room next to me, as well as a washer and dryer.
But no one has been allowed to touch the furniture he picked for me, except to clean it and preserve it.
After Mary leaves my office, I pack up my large tote and head for my room.
I may still work, but I can do it in a historic, four-poster bed, under an embroidered floral, silk canopy.
Surrounded by, I hope, the ghost of Leo.
I don’t know, since he hasn’t made himself known to me, but I like to pretend that he’s still here.
I certainly talk to empty rooms like he’s here.
I take the long way around, passing through the rooms that are open to the public on my commute home for the day.
I like hearing the responses of the people visiting, too.
Some in awe, and some so mad that this much wealth was able to be accumulated at one time while so many go hungry. I get both reactions.
Then there are some who were dragged by their more history-minded traveling companions and have very little interest in my house, as I’ve come to see it. That, I understand less.
But none of them have ever been as vocal as the commotion I hear when I’m passing through the library.
“You can’t sit in the chairs, sir.” The guide’s voice sounds panicked, loud and with a hint of a shake to it, and I pick up speed to follow the direction of the sound, ending up in the sitting room.
“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do in my own home. I shall sit wherever I damn well please.” The voice that responds is British. Posh. And familiar.
“You don’t live here. No one lives here, except Dr. Chopra. It’s a museum. Are you a period actor no one told me about?”
“We’ll get this all cleared up in a second, and my guest will get up for right now.” That’s David. I didn’t know he was coming up to the house today.
David stops by for tea every now and then, sometimes for business for the trust or the times he helped me with immigration things and sometimes just to chat.
He never really believed his family stories until I showed up, when it became a lot harder to doubt them, and he had so many questions about his ancestors and my experience.
We’ve really bonded over him being the only one I can talk to about my trip.
He’s even brought his older brother, the man who inherited the dukedom that Lydia married into. But he always calls first.
“Can I help—” I stop where I am, waves of shock rooting me to the floor. I hear my tote drop, but faintly, like it’s happening in the distance.
Because Leo is standing in front of me, in full Victorian suit, sitting on my chaise with his arm thrown over the back, his ankle resting on his knee.
My hands cover my mouth to press in the scream welling up in me. It’s a mix of joy, and disbelief, and a deep hope that I haven’t manifested his image through sheer loneliness and being surrounded by all his shit.
But I’m not making this up, because other people can see him. They want to get him off the couch. Where he’s sitting, smiling arrogantly at me like he…like he owns the place.
I lower my hands. “Is this…” I can’t get out the rest through my shaking voice.
“Why don’t we go to your office?” David picks up my tote and slides it back over my forearm to rest it on my elbow.
“David?” I focus on him instead of the vision in a full evening suit sitting on my chaise. “What?”
“Let’s get you both in the office.” David gently turns me around, and then less gently grabs Leo by the arm to get him up.
I walk through the halls, not seeing the extravagance around me for once.
I turn my doorknob, forgetting I locked it, and have to rummage through my bag to find the keys, which have disappeared into the black hole of my purse only to reappear after I’ve spent a good thirty seconds searching for them.
“Is this real?” I collapse on the seat closest to the door. Leo takes the other one and David hovers by the door, which he closes behind him.
Leo quirks an eyebrow. “The woman who travelled to Victorian times is confused when I travel in the opposite direction?”
“It’s really you.” I feel pressure in the back of my eyes, getting emotional as I lift a hand to tentatively cup his face, making sure he’s real one more time.
“This conversation probably doesn’t need me. I’ll go. Call me later and I’ll help sort out the legal details.” David opens the door and slides out.
“It’s really me,” Leo says, ignoring David altogether.
“I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I thought the same.” Leo turns his head to plant a kiss on my palm.
It breaks the dam, and I rush from my seat into his lap, running my hands all over his body and planting kisses all over his face.
“But…” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “How?” More kisses. I restrain myself to his cheek so he can answer and I don’t have to stop. But I can’t restrain myself from moving to the corners of his mouth.
“I mentioned in the letter that I was going to Osborne House to see the unveiling of a portrait. Actually, did you find the surprise I left you?” Leo’s voice is muffled, what with an Indian-American woman smothering him with a lot of pent-up affection she never thought she would get to unleash on the object of that affection ever again.
But now I get to.
“Yes. Loved it.”
Leo had a portrait of me commissioned. I don’t know who he got to do it or how it looks so much like me, but I love that he wanted a reminder of me around. It’s hanging in my room, because it would be hard to explain why I’m hanging a Victorian painting of myself over the library fireplace.
“Victoria had a painting commissioned of you. Two actually; one she kept and one she gave to me. Because of how obviously sad I was when you left.”
“What?” That makes me pull back, eyes wide in terror at those ramifications.
“Oh, yes. You made quite the impression on Her Majesty. Not even Forsyth’s proof could change her opinion for long. And he did try after you were gone. She said you must have had good reasons, and either way, you were a citizen of her empire who needed help.”
“Well, I don’t like that bit, but I appreciate her defense.”
“She had the portraits painted, from a court painter who had seen you at events. With help from Her Majesty and myself for the details. She was convinced your breasts were smaller than they were, but I set her straight.” His eyes track directly to the breasts involved in the controversy.
Yeah, he’s going to be seeing them in a second. In this office, if it comes to it.
“So, you were at Osborne House?” I do need him to finish this story first. But he’s still a little distracted by my boobs.
He clears his throat. “Yes. For the official unveiling, even though she sent me my copy in advance since she knew how much I missed you. Then I got quite emotional seeing you again. Her painting is quite large, larger than the one she sent me. And accurate, after my advice on your décolletage.”
“Yes, we get it. I have boobs.”
“Boobs?”
Oh, yeah. There’s a lot I need to update him on. Things I was trying very hard not to say when I was in Victorian England, but now I’ve slipped right back into old patterns.
“I was upset.” Leo gets back on track without the modern English lesson.
“And I enjoyed some of the drinks provided for the party. And then before I knew it, I was intoxicated. And, perhaps this was related, but I fell down the stairs in the garden. Then I woke up in this time. Did you know Osborne House is a museum now? With guards who get mad when you are in the garden after closing. Intoxicated, still. I did not realize what happened until it was too late. Until I demanded to see Queen Victoria.”
“Do you have a court date? Do we need to get you a National Insurance number? We need David back to coordinate everything.” I look to the door and think about getting up, but Leo tightens his hands around me.
“David is the one who rescued me. The guards thought I was lying when I told them exactly who I was, quite truthfully, might I add.” Leo sounds very aggravated at the fact.
“They sent for the constables, who took me to a very strange-looking jail in a very strange conveyance. I told them to contact the trust, hoping it still existed, and thankfully they did, even though I did not know the address. But everyone has telephones now, did you know that? They were such a novelty during my time, an expensive one. At any rate, the constables used theirs and David came to the constabulary to free me. He said he would get all the necessary documents for me. And that I was a ‘period actor’ whatever that means.”
“Your great-great-nephew or whatever, is a fantastic attorney.” I’ve seen the trust’s books; this house museum is doing well.
“Meera, have you been in a car? I’ve been in cars in my time, but they are nothing like these.”
I snort. “I lived in Southern California, so yeah, I know what a car is. Wait till I get you on a plane.”
“What is a plane?”
“I have a proposition for you,” I say instead of answering.
Leo quirks an eyebrow and I smooth my hand over it, still half not believing he’s here.
“What is it then?” Leo asks.
“I’ll show you, former Lord Basildon, I’ll show you everything you need to know in this time. But first, I have a question for you.” I get off his lap to squat down in a kneel.
“Absolutely not. No matter what century I am in.” Leo grabs my arms to halt my progress and slams down hard on his knee, getting to the ground first. “Meera, I love you. I crossed time to get back to you. Will you marry me?” His eyes are tearing up a bit, and I don’t think it’s love driving it.
I think I’m going to need to introduce him to ibuprofen first and foremost.
“No. Because I was asking you to marry me first. Because I love you.” In case he didn’t hear me while I was yelling it at him during my fall.
“I’m so glad that the universe sent me to you.
And then you to me. Even if I have no idea how this all happened.
And woman can do anything in this brave new time you’re in. ”
“This will take some getting used to. But when in Rome.” He shrugs. “Yes, I will marry you.”
I launch myself at him, taking him down for the second time in a minute.
He grunts when he lands. “I’m in for a curious adventure, aren’t I?”
“The adventure of a lifetime. Even if no one will ever believe it happened.”
And then we don’t talk for some time.