“Why yes, James.”
“Then we may be in luck. Shall we will try Fittleworth tomorrow?”
I looked at Flory then at Jill, who both shrugged their shoulders.
“I don’t know, but it must be better than doing nothing.”
The next morning was bright with a spring sunrise. I agreed with James that we should wear our proper clothes, for it would be very inappropriate to be found in his sister’s attire with our friends. Though I must admit as we changed back into our own clothes they did not seem to feel as comfortable as they had been.
Jill tried to make us have another dowsing but we told her we were quite clean enough, thank you, and any more washing would completely remove our natural bodily oils.
While preparing ourselves for the day I noticed a photograph of Miss Urquhart with a gentleman on the landing. They seemed to be in the middle of a rather muddy field, scantily dressed and surrounded by hundreds of similarly dressed people. I hoped it was not one of those bacchanalia parties I had heard about in the bohemian outskirts of Middlesex. Jill noticed me regarding the photograph.
“That’s my boyfriend, Liam, Elizabeth. Hard to imagine he’s a policeman. It was the Osterley Jazz Festival. Rained all weekend. We got absolutely soaked.”
I made a note to find out what jazz was as I felt that the dress code was a little beyond what I was prepared to wear. I took the opportunity to ask Jill about her courting and plans for the future.
“Oh yes, we’ve been going out for over two years. In fact, we are buying a house and hope to move in together this summer.”
“And you are to be married soon?”
“Oh no, not yet,” and then she looked at me and noticed my attention. “Oh I’m sorry, our society is possibly much more laissez-faire than yours.”
“Please do not mistake our manners for prudishness. We know many couples who, as you put it, live together and quite openly. We may seem to be rather formal in our manners but they are very useful, for example for ascertaining whether a gentleman has humour, intelligence and of course wealth to support a family. I am sure that even now you have your own devices which achieve the same results.”
“You know, you are quite right Elizabeth. You’re very observant. And then of course, love comes along and ruins all our plans.”
“Ha! Ha! How very true, Miss Urquhart.”
“And how would you see Jim fitting into your plans?”
I suddenly felt the closeness of her look.
“Why, I hardly know him, Miss Urquhart.”
We arrived at Fittleworth about one o’clock, in time for lunch. James parked his carriage by the old church and then we walked back down the byway to the coaching inn. As we arrived we could see, thank God, what looked like our party gathering. James and his sister held back for fear of drawing unwanted attention to their clothes.
Henry was standing by the porch with one of his shooting friends, Alfred, trying a pipe and when he saw us he waved and came running over to greet us.
“Elizabeth! Flory! Where have you been?”
We told him quickly that we had met an old aunt in Chichester and decided to stay overnight.
Then he spied James and his sister.
“And who are they?”
I told them they were my aunt’s chauffeur and his sister who were on their way to market at Petworth for my aunt.
Henry looked rather coldly at James.
“So today you are a chauffeur, Mr Urquhart?”
James managed to hold his gaze and luckily held up my rather weak story. I distracted Henry from further interrogation by admonishing him about the evil smelling weed he was burning in his new pipe. Henry had recently taking up the habit and liked to think he was rather a connoisseur of pipes and the new American tobaccos. I knew that any questioning of this foul hobby immediately concentrated his mind on its defence at the expense of all other subjects.
---~---
J.
I listened to this conversation with some amusement.
Jill whispered, “Gosh, she can certainly think quickly on her feet, Jim. That was the quickest excuse I’ve ever heard for a dirty night stop-out. Watch out, Henry is coming towards us.”
“Here’s half a crown for your troubles, Mr Urquhart, and buy a hat and shirt and also a modest shawl for your sister,” he said.
I had to grip Jill’s arm quite tightly.
“Thank yee,” I said and touched my forelock.
Elizabeth whispered, “James, you had better be off and thank you for your help, it was really appreciated.”
“No problem Elizabeth, I mean Ms Bicester, and I hope we meet again.”
And with that we went back to the car hidden behind the church. As I reached the road I said to Jill, “Let’s wait here and see what happens.”
But as I turned and looked back, to my horror they were already gone! The time shift had collapsed. The pub was deserted save for a couple of cars parked at the front!
“My god, is that how it happens. That’s unbelievable!”
“Well she’s gone,” I said. “We should have got her equivalent of a Filofax off her so we could find likely rendezvous points again.”
“There’s a chance she still has your phone.”
“God yes! Well remembered. But only as long as the battery lasts.”
We decided to try to phone her that evening. Twice there was no reply, then about 10 o’clock Elizabeth answered.
“James? Oh, I thought we had lost you.”
“Quickly, Elizabeth, can you give me a list of times and dates where you will be meeting people from the cricket club?”
She paused and then gave a list of ten parties for the next month.
“Excellent,” I said. “We’ll try to meet up again. And I’ll bring a new battery for your phone because it won’t last much longer.”
The arrangement was a success. We met Elizabeth several times after that, always making sure we left her with a freshly charged phone battery. On some occasions we dressed up in period costumes though our first attempt to blend in was nearly a disaster as our fashion, we quickly discovered, was at least ten years out of date. Jill thought I looked like Bertie Wooster’s butler and Elizabeth thought Jill’s fashion would have blended in with her mother’s whist drive friends, but I thought it best not to pass that on.
On one occasion she took us to a small dinner party in Amberley. We had never been in a coach and horses before and I promised myself I would never complain about potholes again. The carriage followed the ruts rather than the road and I think it was only the spring-leaf suspension which stopped my teeth shaking out. Coupled with the thought that it was now dark and the road seemed to be lit by just two candle lamps to guide four horses hell-bent on getting to Amberley as fast as possible, I began to have some sympathy for Elizabeth’s first ride in my car. Elizabeth noticed.
“You look a little ill James. I hope we are not going too fast for you.”
There was no point in defending myself. “Apart from it’s pitch black, I can’t see anything out the windows, every creak and bump sounds like a wheel coming off and I believe the River Arun is on one side and a rife on the other waiting to swallow us up, I feel quite fine.”
Jill, who up to this point had been rather silent and possibly regretting her decision to try out a whalebone corset, helped me out by saying, “And don’t forget the phantom coach coming towards us in the opposite direction, Jim.”
Elizabeth, who I could see was enjoying this, said. “So, James, travelling at only ten miles an hour gives you some trepidation but you are quite happy to travel at over fifty miles an hour without any qualms or concern for the safety of your passengers?”
I was about to talk about the improvements in road safety, air bags etc., but then remembered that over 300,000 had been killed and millions injured since the Second World War. “You are right, Elizabeth. Our perception of risk, irrespective of the real risk, reduces the more familiar we are with the situation. But I’ll be
very glad when we reach our destination and intend to get totally drunk before we return.”
She then paid me a rather back-handed compliment.
“James, it is quite refreshing to hear a man display his weaknesses in front of a woman. I think it takes courage. However, I would advise to go easy on the port if you are unaccustomed to it.”
Needless to say, I did not take her advice.
The dinner party was for a friend’s birthday and consisted of some of her class from school which enabled us to fabricate a suitable background. I posed as a University science lecturer who was accompanying his sister on a literary tour. Jill was a great fan of Dickens, which gave her plenty of material on Victorian society, though I suggested she went easy on Ellen Ternan.
I quickly realised how ignorant we were when out of our time. I thought I knew a lot about Victorian society but it was like turning up at a party with no idea of the current pop groups or who was prime minister and having never heard of the ’60s. There was nearly an uproar when I confused Gladstone with Disraeli; however, I saved myself with some knowledge of the recent Franco-Prussian War and I was glad to see that there was some sympathy for the French. They also listened quite intently on my view of the Prussians and how if they were not controlled a vast European war could ensue, though I did not mention expected casualties as I thought this would be beyond their credulity.
On a question regarding the English class system, Jill’s rigorous defence of the ‘undeserving’ poor was not well received by everyone, though Elizabeth, at possibly some cost to herself, tried to support her. They were also quite surprised on how I had got into University without knowing a word of Latin. Chatting to the servants and thanking them for serving us caused some raised eyebrows as well; not least amongst the servants, who seemed quite embarrassed by our familiarity. I must also remember, after having half a bottle of port to follow the wine, not to try and explain what stars were made of to Victorians.
Elizabeth eventually saved us by “remembering” she had an early engagement in Chichester in the morning and we were able to leave before I caused any further trouble.
I don’t remember the ride back to Hamgreen though later it became a favourite topic of conversation to be brought up by certain people.
---~---
E.
I was quite amazed how lacking our two new acquaintances were in matters of etiquette and their knowledge of Latin was almost non-existent. I felt a little embarrassed showing them how to use knives and forks in the correct order, but they were very interested and apologised profusely every time they made a mistake. James caused a little consternation, which I put down to the wine, by remarking it was the best Christmas dinner he had ever had. Jill quickly changed the subject by introducing the topic of favourite authors and I was surprised on how much she knew about Dickens and Elliott. James, when asked, regarded a Mr Sherlock Holmes as his favourite and was rather taken aback when we confessed that we had never heard of him.
Flory, who was beginning to suspect that his knowledge of English literature wasn’t all that it should be for the best salons in Chichester, decided to test him on the Brontes and Austen. His reply regarding the ‘affair’ between Jane Eyre and Mr D’Arcy was received with much amusement to which Flory said rather devilishly, “Gosh Mr Urquhart, I must confess I must have skipped over those pages. I had not appreciated how racy those authors were.”
Her friend Agnes, who with Flory had left a famous trail of broken hearts in the Bath season last year and could spot a weakened quarry at fifty yards, could not resist joining in by saying, “Perhaps your father removed the pages, Flory, so as not to offend your delicate soul.”
I tried to interject before James noticed that the amusements were at his expense and his literary reputation was reduced completely to tatters, but his sister grabbed my hand and whispered, “Let it roll, Elizabeth. It pays back for all those times he has laughed at my ignorance in the area of science.”
On poetry, however, he fared much better by entertaining us to Tam O’Shanter, helped I think by the port, and then redeemed himself completely by reciting two beautiful romantic poems by an Irish poet Mr Yates, which was so well received by the female company that he was made to promise to supply copies to all on his next visit. I thought he carried himself well in his frock coat and winged collars though when he asked to be more comfortable by removing his jacket I refused his request and reminded him it was a small price to pay compared to a lady’s requirements to be fashionable. Then Flory, who thought she still had James well cornered, asked him for his opinion on marriage, to which he replied, parrying her foil quite cleverly I noted, by saying, “I believe it is intended to keep women out of mischief,” and looked directly at Flory and Agnes, who both found a sudden interest in the remainder of their pudding.
“And,” he said, giving a return thrust, “to get them in to trouble.”
There was a sharp intake of breath but luckily, thanks to the beverage, this was judged to be just on the right side of decency and was well received by all save Flory and Agnes who now realised they had been ‘found out’ and that their quarry might be wilier than they thought. It also, more importantly deflected from any further questioning on the subject, for I had noticed one or two of my friends glancing between James and me in a surreptitious way. Later he told me this was the only “clean” Victorian joke he knew. I made a mental point to put him in touch with Henry and his chums to see who could outgun whom in this department, for I knew that although Henry would not recount any risqué humour with me, for some reason he was not so hesitant with Flory, who of course would delight in passing them on.
---~---
J.
On returning to our time after this rather embarrassing dinner party, I said to Jill, “I think we’ve got to improve our performance, some of them are beginning to suspect we are not quite what we are. My neck is raw from these starched collars and these trousers rub in all the wrong places. I think I’ll go to the library and look up copies of the Gentleman’s Magazine for the period to help us out.”
“Do you really think some Victorian version of Men Only will help? I’m not convinced an afternoon of reading up on Victorian ladies’ underwear is going to improve your amorous advances, Jim.”
“It’s what they called a Society Magazine, Jill. You know, a bit like Punch. And besides, from what you told me when they were here, I’d need the equivalent of a car maintenance manual, not a porn mag, to disassemble their clothes. Not, of course,” noticing her look, “that I had any intention of doing so.”
Mrs Beaton’s Cookbook was very useful to help brush up on Victorian manners and Jill found ‘A Gentleman’s Guide to Etiquette’ of 1875, which she thought would be of some use to me both in the present and the past. After a few attempts in engaging with each other in ‘polite’ conversation, she suggested that I pay close attention to the sections on buffoonery, phrases of double meaning and the use of inappropriate adjectives in the drawing room for some reason. Jill of course thoroughly enjoyed dressing up, though when I noticed she was going easy on the undergarments she said she wasn’t going to let fashion get in the way of a good meal. However, she was soon able to converse knowledgeably on the latest ladies’ fashion of the 1870s’ bustles, flounces, corsets and polonaises, to which I tried to pay close attention.
I thought Elizabeth and Flory enjoyed our meetings and our ‘little secret’, though they would often tease by quizzing me on the latest scientific inventions and what I thought the future would hold. This invariably led me into using technical words which required a lot of stumbling about, much to the amusement of her friends who eventually began to regard me as a bit of an eccentric. This was compounded by Jill who, I later found out, had also shown them my book on Gentlemen’s Etiquette and they had derived much amusement at my expense in counting how many of the 37 rules I could break in one sitting! As Rule 16 prohibits the use of derogatory comments on those who are absent, I will say no more.
---~---
E.
On two occasions James brought Flory and me back to his own time. This was more difficult for us. We had some understanding of the past, but we had never seen the future. There was so much that was completely new: television, telephones, computers, the distance we could travel so easily and of course aeroplanes – every time we heard one, we would rush out into the garden and gaze with awe and excitement at the white pencil trails disappearing towards the horizon. We were especially amazed by the amount of money they had and why they didn’t have servants and a bigger house, until we saw the ridiculous cost of everything. Flory tried to relate the cost to our own time and reckoned that the amount of money we had in trust for life would be spent in three months here.
I had become much interested in their clothes and enquired of Jill of what material her dresses were made. She said they were made from an artificial substance called ‘Lycra’, which was apparently a girl’s best friend, allowing her ‘to pig out’, as she put it, without discomfort at any dinner party. I said I must admit at one or two fine dinner parties I had attended I’d wished my clothes had been made of such a material to allow me to ‘pig out’ as well. However, when I asked her who her haberdasher was, she replied that she bought from an awfully nice company which employed small children in India and China to make them for a tuppence an hour. I told her that was very charitable of her as I had heard there was much poverty and starvation in the empire and to hear that she subscribed to a firm which paid such a generous wage to these poor people was very noble.
One evening they took us into Chichester to what they called an Italian restaurant, though the decor seemed to be English peasant vernacular rather than renaissance. We enjoyed it. We had what I believe they called ‘Pizza’, which is like a large flat unleavened bread filled with melted cheeses, spices and meats and was delicious, though eating it with our hands took some getting used to. It was very informal. No one wore evening dress and we were very surprised that the serving staff would join in our conversations unasked.
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