Down the Rabbit Hole

She did not answer him with words. Alice pushed the covers back, slipped from the bed, gathered her clothes and then faced him. “I wonder if women today feel less of an emotional commitment when they make love? Weston, in all the ways that matter I have been yours since that first time we were together. You are the one and only man I will ever love. But the very act of marrying you would mean living with the constant reminder that I am not your equal and never will be.”

Alice left the room, and he was smart enough not to call her back or follow her. One moment of honesty was enough for tonight. She loved him. Would love him forever. He held that thought as closely as he wanted to hold her. And actually fell asleep smiling.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mr. Arbuckle was waiting for them in the library. Weston wished he had been with them at breakfast, a meal made awkward by the housekeeper’s nonchalance and Alice’s embarrassment. Her discomfort made him so restless it was all he could do not to stand up and prowl the room.

“Good morning!” Mr. Arbuckle announced, rubbing his hands together as if he were preparing to share a special treat. “Is there something specific you would like to do today?”

“I want to go back to my proper time and place,” Alice announced. Her discomfort dimmed some of Mr. Arbuckle’s enthusiasm.

“I am afraid I have no control over that. The coin does, and it is most certainly at the earl’s country house, Westmoreland, far out of our reach.”

“Alice, try not to worry so much.”

“Oh, Weston, that is so easy for you to say. My whole livelihood depends on creating and maintaining a good packet of references. I am so afraid that Miss Amy, despite her best intentions, is ruining the profession I have nurtured so carefully.”

“This is not easy for me to say, my dear.” He sat across from her and leaned forward. “My uncle left the estate a financial disaster. I have been trying to find a way out of the mess.” He looked at Arbuckle and smiled. “But if I am right, then the coal investment will be the solution. It makes me more willing to believe that the gift of this time travel has not been all one-sided.”

“And, so it is, my lord,” Arbuckle agreed. “As I told Miss Amy and Mr. West, this passage through the space-time continuum was always meant to be. What happens here and in 1805 is part of the long-accepted history of your family. You are not changing history in any way.”

Arbuckle stepped closer to Alice. “That is true for you too, Miss Kemp. There is something in this experience that will enrich your life, make it better, make it happier, make you wiser. The magic coin does not deal in misery or unhappiness, nor does it only affect one person. It grants wishes, and one rarely wishes for bad things, now, do they?”

“But we did not wish on the coin,” Alice pointed out with unnecessary asperity.

“You will have a chance to make a wish when you return, and in doing so you can use the insight you have gained in this century to make your world as you would wish it.”

“The world I wish and the world in reality are two very different things.”

“Have faith, Miss Kemp. Have faith that the coin will make your heart’s dearest wish come true.”

She looked at the earl with a question in her eyes.

“Yes, my dearest love, if your wish is to find a life together as man and wife, then my wish is the same.”

“How can you put that before your family and the estate’s needs?”

He shrugged. “Because with you anything is possible.”

Mr. Arbuckle found his hat and bowed to them. “I will leave you to discuss the details of your future. If you should leave before I return I must say that knowing you has been both a pleasure and a unique experience.”

“The feeling is most assuredly mutual,” the earl said, and Alice nodded in agreement. “When you return to the nineteenth century please come to Westmoreland. You will always be welcome.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Arbuckle answered, smiling with delight. “I will see you again then, if not tomorrow morning.”

When he left and it was the two of them alone, they sat together on the settee, holding hands as they had not since they arrived in this time and place.

“This moment is perfect.”

“Yes,” the earl agreed. “I was thinking the same thing. I wish this was our future.”

“Oh, so do I, Weston. So do I.”

Suddenly overcome with an amazing fatigue, they both fell asleep, and their dreams took them home.

*   *   *

As he awakened, the earl recognized the disorientation, the odd sense of travel with his mind as much as his body, that he’d felt the day before. Weston was not surprised when he opened his eyes and found he was on the settee in one of the salons at Westmoreland, surely in his own time.

Alice was beside him, her head on his shoulder, still sound asleep. He smiled and decided to wait for her to join him in 1805. He looked around the room, at the spot above the shelves that would hold his portrait, where the painting of Venice by Guardi currently hung.

Or should have.