This was bad—very bad, she realized as she took in the offended look on the Viscount’s face and saw that he was between her and the door. How was she going to get out of here? Was he going to kill her too? Paranoia and fear crawled over her skin like bugs and she had to fight not to scratch at her arms.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t kill me! I won’t tell anyone what you did if you just please let me go!”
“Kill you?” Lord Harkens’ eyes widened and he frowned at her uncertainly. “My dear Miss Lambert, whatever are you on about? Have you taken leave of your senses?”
At this, Caroline became even more paranoid.
He thinks you’re crazy, whispered the panicked little voice in her skull. Quick, explain it to him—let him know you’re not mad!
“I’m not crazy,” she blurted, staring at him. “I’m really not—I’m perfectly sane! I only sound crazy because I don’t belong here. See, I’m from another world. I invented a machine called PORTAL—that’s short for Positronic Orbital Rotating Time/Space Allocating Locator—that can open a window into another universe. And I thought that was all it was—just a window. But I got sucked through it and into the other Caroline’s life and I wound up here—only I don’t know how to act because I never really read up on the reality of life in the nineteenth century—I just binged BBC dramas whenever I got a chance. It was kind of a guilty pleasure—something I did to take a break from my research when I was feeling stressed. Although, to be honest, your universe’s version of the Victorian era isn’t exactly like mine. You have those weird wind-up carriages and the creepy Tick-Tock servants. It’s kind of steampunk but it’s still a lot more than I bargained for. Not that I ever thought I’d get trapped in another universe—another time but here I am and I—”
At that moment, the other mother and Richard both came rushing into the room.
“Caroline!” the other mother exclaimed. “What in the world has come over you? I could hear you babbling all the way down the hall!”
“I’ll tell you what’s come over her…” In two long strides, Richard had closed the distance between them. He brushed past the incensed Lord Harkens and took Caroline’s face in his hands, studying her eyes. “Cocaine intoxication—that’s what’s the matter,” he said grimly. He looked between Harkens and the other mother. “Which of you gave it to her and how much did you give? She’s nearly frantic with it!”
“I don’t know what you are speaking of, Dr. Vii,” Lord Harkens blustered. “Furthermore, I do not remember issuing you an invitation to my home. In fact, I thought I made it quite clear after the last time you were here that you were never welcome at Thrashings Hall again!”
“And I would have been happy to stay away. However I found out that you intended to have my wife for tea, which necessitated my presence here,” Richard growled. “I came straight away to get her and this is what I find! Was it you that gave her the drug?”
“She only had a little cocaine,” the other mother exclaimed as Lord Harkens began to bluster again. “It was in some sweetening syrup that Lady Harkens put in her tea. It’s really quite harmless.”
“Not in large doses, it isn’t,” Richard snapped. “Cocaine is a stimulant—it forces the heart to work harder than it otherwise would, which can be dangerous.”
Caroline nodded at him, putting a hand to her chest.
“Pumping so hard,” she whispered in a breathless gasp. “Can…can you give me anything to calm it down? It’s terrible—I’m really bad at drugs. They do weird things to me.”
“I know they do,” Richard said, frowning at her. “You’ve always had a very sensitive system.” He looked accusingly at the other mother. “A fact that you, Mrs. Lambert, ought to know, as Caroline is your daughter. Or maybe you do know it but you’re so bent on social advancement you refuse to see anything else.”
“How dare you, Sir!” the other mother exclaimed. “Of course I know my own daughter—and what’s best for her. Which at the moment, is getting away from you.”
She came over and grabbed at Caroline’s hand, tugging her away from Richard despite her weak protests.
“I think it best that you all leave now,” Lord Harkens said, scowling. “I fear this meeting has not gone as planned.”
“If you planned to take my wife, certainly not,” Richard snarled, showing his fangs. “I can promise you, Harkens, that Caroline will not end her days as the former occupant of this room did—not while I still draw breath, that is.”
The rotund Viscount grew pale and took a single step back.
“Out, Sir!” he said, pointing to the doorway. “Get out and do not darken my door again.”
“I will stay away with pleasure, as long as you keep your distance from Caroline.” Richard’s voice was a low, menacing growl. “Remember—I will be watching.” With that, he withdrew from the room, pacing on his long legs out into the drawing room and the hall beyond.
“Lord Harkens, I assure you—” the other mother began but the Viscount shook his head.
“Mrs. Lambert, I am sorry but I fear that any discussion of this afternoon’s events must be deferred to a later time. I am not accustomed to being accused in my own home and I am not prepared to speak of it now, or indeed, ever again.”
“Oh, Lord Harkens,” the other mother exclaimed, fluttering with distress. “Please believe me when I say that Dr. Vii will do or say anything to keep Caroline bound to him but I promise you—”
“It was not Dr. Vii that I was speaking of when I said that I am not accustomed to being accused,” the Viscount said coldly. “It was your daughter. Good day, Madam.”
His words were so clearly a dismissal that the other mother had no choice but to go, dragging Caroline, her heart still pounding wildly, behind her.
Chapter Fifteen
“Whatever did you say to him?” the other mother demanded, once they were back in the carriage and on the way home. “What in Heaven’s name did you say to Lord Harkens to so offend him and drive him off?”
“I said he was a serial killer,” Caroline snapped. “And if he’s not, he certainly acts like one!”
“A what kind of killer?” the other mother demanded. “And why would you accuse him of something like that? What in the world possessed you, Caroline?”
“Didn’t you see those pictures in that room?” Caroline exclaimed. “Those two pictures were of the same woman—his last wife before and after she died! He took a picture of her after she was dead!”
“Well, poor man, he must have wanted something to remember her by,” the other mother exclaimed. “Why would that upset you? We have a picture hanging in our very own parlor of your poor Grand-pa-pa in his coffin.” She sighed. “Ah, how I miss him sometimes!”
“We do?” Caroline stared at her. “Are you saying that it’s considered normal to take pictures of dead bodies before you bury them?”
“Must you be so crass?” the other mother snapped. “But yes—of course it is. One likes to have a last remembrance of the dear departed—getting a daguerreotype done is the best and easiest way.”
“That’s weird.” Caroline shook her head. “But you don’t understand—that wasn’t all he had! He had also saved his dead wife’s hair and had it braided into a wreath.” She shivered. “Like some kind of a trophy.”
“He had a mourning wreath made as well? How sweet.” The other mother shook her head. “How he must have loved her. Poor man! To be so recently bereaved and then to have you accuse him of Heaven only knows what when he was only trying to remember his poor dear wife!”
“Wait…so making wreathes out of dead people’s hair is normal too?”
Caroline was beginning to feel like she was taking crazy pills. How could this kind of activity be considered perfectly socially acceptable in the same society where people fainted if you lifted your skirts too high and flashed somebody with an ankle? What was wrong with this world? Had things like this been normal in her own version of the nineteenth century or was this unive
rse just screwed up?
“Well of course it’s normal!” the other mother exclaimed. “I would hope you’d make a wreathe of my hair when the time comes. It’s a lovely family ornament to pass down to your own daughters—if you ever have any, which is looking increasingly unlikely considering the way you treated the poor Viscount!”
Caroline didn’t know what to say about this. On one hand, she probably shouldn’t have accused Lord Harkens of being a serial killer. On the other hand, she couldn’t really feel sorry that she had. At the very least, this must have dampened his ardor for her. So she didn’t have to worry about the other mother marrying her off to the awful Viscount in the future.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled at last. “The lightening strike…it made me forget a lot of things and get confused. And the cocaine in my tea didn’t help either,” she added, frowning.
The other mother sighed. “Well, Richard was right about that at least—you always have had a delicate system. We should have asked Lady Harkens what was in that sweetening syrup before she put it in your tea. Although I suppose I might have guessed it was cocaine—they seem to put it in everything nowadays.”
“Well, I don’t want any more of it,” Caroline said vehemently. As she spoke, she realized that her heart was beating a little slower and she no longer had the feeling that she was about to crawl out of her skin. Thank goodness! At last, she was beginning to feel the effects of the cocaine-laced tea fading.
The drug seemed to wear off almost as suddenly as it had taken effect. All at once, she felt unbearably worn out and drowsy.
Crashing, she thought. I must be crashing—isn’t that what they call it when you come down off a high? She had no idea and she was too tired to think about it.
“Are we almost home?” she asked and yawned into her hand. “I’m so tired.”
“We’ll be home shortly.” The other mother gave her a critical look. “I suppose you’d best go straight to bed when we get there. I’ll have to compose a note to Lord Harkens to apologize for your behavior. I’ll try to explain that the cocaine had an adverse effect on you. Maybe he will yet give you another chance.”
Caroline wanted to protest that the other mother shouldn’t do any such thing—she didn’t want another chance with Lord Harkens. But when she opened her mouth, all that came out was another yawn. God, had she ever been so tired? Caroline didn’t think so. She felt like she’d just finished running a marathon—she was drooping with weariness and fatigue.
I just want to go to bed, she told herself as the carriage finally came to a halt and the other mother and the footman helped her out of it and up the front steps of the forbidding gray mansion. Maybe I can get a nap and then try to sneak out to the park and see if Commander Sylvan has managed to get the PORTAL going to open another window. I need to get out of this crazy world as soon as I can.
But first she needed a nap. Just a short one, Caroline promised herself as she dragged herself upstairs and threw herself across the bed. Just for a few minutes to refresh myself.
The next thing she knew everything went dark and sleep claimed her.
Chapter Sixteen
When she woke up, it was the middle of the night and she felt horribly stiff. Someone—probably Mary Ann—had unbuttoned her dress and opened her corset so she could breath properly but other than that, she was still dressed.
She sat up, fighting with her voluminous skirts, and looked out the window. Well, so much for getting to the park to see if PORTAL had opened a way home—it was full dark outside which meant she was probably stuck here. It was a sure bet that no respectable young lady of this era would be caught dead wandering around outside alone after night had fallen.
Which makes it the perfect time to sneak out, whispered a little voice in her head.
Caroline thought about it—actually, it was a pretty good idea, she decided. No one would ever suspect her of leaving at this time of the night—if she was careful, she could sneak out to the park and then get back to the house if she had to without anyone being the wiser.
Sitting up, she re-fastened her tunic with some difficulty and the re-buttoned the buttons on her rose-colored afternoon dress. Someone—probably Mary Ann—would doubtless have been in trouble for leaving the other Caroline fully dressed for a nap. But Caroline didn’t share her doppelganger’s sense of entitlement—she was extremely glad that she’d been left on the bed almost fully dressed. Getting in and out of the voluminous garments women had to wear in this time was definitely a two-person job. She never would have gotten out of the house if she had to manage it by herself.
Once she was fully dressed, she was about to go out when her eye happened to fall on a small, beaded purse—what ladies had called a reticule, Caroline thought. She looked inside and found some old-fashioned looking money—the notes large and thin and crinkly. They were folded several times to fit in the small purse and when Caroline looked at them, she saw she had five pounds and some change. It didn’t seem like much, but then she remembered the time period she was in. Five pounds was probably a king’s ransom here.
Deciding she’d better take it with her, Caroline tucked the purse under her arm, opened the door and looked out. The hallway was completely empty and it seemed like a good time to sneak away. But just as she was about to step out of her room, there was a clattering on the stairs and a boy who looked to be about fourteen came striding up, taking the steps two and three at a time. After him, huffing and puffing, came the downstairs maid—what was her name again? Caroline had forgotten but the woman seemed extremely upset.
“Here now, here now!” she puffed as she followed the boy as fast as she was able. “This here is a quality house! You can’t just come barging in willy-nilly you young harem-scarem!”
“Sorry, Ma’am, but I got to see the doctor, that I do!” the boy exclaimed. He skidded to a stop right outside Richard’s door and banged on it hastily. “Doctor Vii? Doctor, please come out!”
Richard’s door opened and Caroline, who had shut her own door except for a tiny crack to look through, stared as he came out, looking tired and despondent. His strong jaw was covered in dark stubble and his broad shoulders were slumped. But the moment he saw the boy, his pale blue eyes grew sharp.
“What is it, Nick?” he asked. “What’s happened?”
“It’s herself, Doctor!” the boy exclaimed. “She’s come to time and she’s begging for you. Says she can’t have no one but you by her. She’s crying something awful, sayin’ she must have you—will you come?”
“Of course. Let me get my coat and bag. It’s all right,” he added, looking at the downstairs maid who was giving the boy a scowl that seemed likely to incinerate him on the spot. “I’ll go with him—no harm done.” Then he ducked back into his room.
The maid had a dissatisfied look on her face as though she wanted to protest, but there was clearly nothing she could do to the boy after Richard had given him pardon.
“No harm done, he says,” she muttered loudly as she stumped down the stairs. “And what about my mistresses—both of them all wore out and resting? What if he’s woken them? That’s harm a plenty, if you ask me. Not that anyone ever does.”
As her voice drifted off, Richard reappeared with his black frock coat on and carrying a black leather satchel.
“Come,” he said to the boy. “We’ll go at once.”
Caroline watched them go, her curiosity thoroughly piqued. Who was “herself” and why was she crying and begging for Richard? Where exactly was he going in the middle of the night?
She waited until he had descended the stairs and then followed the big Kindred as quietly as she could. At the bottom of the stairs, she heard him say to the boy,
“Now Nick, have you a hansom waiting?”
“No, Doctor—I couldn’t afford no cab—I came afoot,” the boy said.
“You ran all the way from Graves Street?” Richard demanded. “You must be worn to a ribbon. Come—we’ll ride on the way back.”
The fron
t door opened and shut and they were gone. Caroline gave them a minute and then cracked the front door open herself. She was just in time to see Richard and the boy climbing into one of the wind-up carriages and to hear Richard say,
“To Mother Griffith’s on Graves Street and be quick about it!”
“Yes, Sir!” the driver exclaimed and the carriage rattled off down the street.
Caroline slipped out, closing the front door quietly behind her. This was her chance—she ought to sneak out and make her way to the park. But looking down the road, she saw there was another wind-up cab just like the first one, loitering by the curb. A sudden impulsive curiosity took over her and instead of hiding in the shadows and sneaking towards the park, she walked over to the waiting cab and addressed the driver, who was sitting on a wooden box seat out in front.
“Excuse me,” she said to him. “How much to go to Graves Street?”
At first he looked shocked that she would even address him. Then, after a moment, when he saw that Caroline wasn’t going away, he said,
“Graves Street, Miss? You don’t want to go to Graves Street! Proper young lady like you don’t belong down there. ‘Specially not this time o’ night.”
This only made Caroline more curious. Apparently whoever Richard was going to see, she wasn’t a “proper lady” or she wouldn’t reside on Graves Street. So who was she then? A pang of jealousy shot through her, as sharp as a knife—was he cheating on her?
Even if he is, it’s not really you he’s cheating on—it’s her—the other Caroline, whispered a little voice in her head. Drop it now and go to the park—this might be your only chance to find a way out of here!
But somehow she just couldn’t drop it. She had to know where Richard had gone and see the woman he was going to see—had to see with her own eyes.
“Yes, I do want to go,” she told the driver firmly. “How much, please?”
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