"I think our consciousness was simply popped into each of these bodies, without regard for whatever was already there. In our time, scientists know that memories are the result of electrical and chemical processes in the brain. The souls of the other girls had departed, but there had to be knowledge, memories, and subconscious thoughts remaining behind in the brain tissue. I think that we're assimilating that information from each of the girls that we've replaced. I've been having dreams about people that I never met, and places I've never been. I believe them to be Amelia's memories. The people are all dressed in clothes from this time period, so I think I'm seeing her parents, relatives, friends, and acquaintances."
"Me too," Roberta said, thoughtfully. "But I just thought it was my normally wild imagination running amuck in my sleep."
"I've had many strange dreams also, but I thought I was the only one," Elizabeth said.
"Same with me," Martha said. "I've been having them every night since we arrived here. I didn't understand it, but it's been kind of nice. It's made being here feel— less scary."
"I guess we've all been affected to the point that we can function normally, without having to concentrate on employing the proper etiquette," Amelia said. "The information is just there when we need it. But it also means that if we stay here, we'll continue to be affected. We'll become nineteenth century women in mind as well as body."
"What's wrong with that?" Martha asked. "We should do everything we can to blend in, as you've told us from the beginning."
"Really, Amelia," Roberta said, "I think you're being ridiculous. I still have all my old memories. I don't think that we'll suddenly turn into Victorian women. We're just adapting well to a difficult situation."
"Are we? I'm not so sure. At what point will we begin to believe that the blended knowledge, memories, and values of the girls we replaced, are our memories and values? We're becoming them."
"So what can we do?" Elizabeth asked. "Have you found us a way back?"
Sighing lightly, she said, "No, I haven't. Unless the spirit comes to take us home, we might be stuck here permanently."
"And if you're right about us being here to save Anne's life, the chances that the spirit will release us are quite remote?" Roberta asked.
"Uh, yes."
"Well, since we're stuck here anyway," Martha said in a lighthearted manner, "let's go down to breakfast. I'm starving."
Amelia smiled sadly. She had been so worried about Martha, and now Martha seemed like the one most comfortable with this new existence.
The young men, sans Jeremy, were waiting at the bottom of the stairs as the girls descended. Harry again escorted Amelia into breakfast, and Jeremy never made an appearance during the meal.
The regular estate staff could handle the small amount of snow that had blown into the driveway and walkways overnight, so while the older guests sat in the library to read after breakfast, or went to one of the parlors or drawing rooms so they could converse in comfort without disturbing the others, the younger guests proceeded directly to the music room where they spent the morning enjoying the delightful music from the harpsichord. It turned out that both Tad and Donald could play quite well, so with Beverly alternating, the partygoers had an almost constant musical recital.
About ten a.m., Anne invited Amelia to a tête-à-tête. She led the way to her father's study, and then to a large sofa from which one could look out through terrace doors to the snow-covered yard at the rear of the house. As Amelia sat down, she couldn't imagine a room that was more demonstrably masculine. Where the rest of the house had been tastefully decorated with professional care, this room had either been decorated by someone with little or no experience in such things, or someone who just didn't care to follow the conventions of decorating. The walls were faced with some sort of wood planking, perhaps teakwood, finished with a dark stain. The floor was covered with a blood-red carpet. The stuffed heads of a dozen and a half luckless animals wearing miserable expressions stared down upon the room's occupants from their positions on the twelve-foot high walls. A massive oak desk, with an equally massive chair, occupied one corner, and a large table, covered with what appeared to be liquor bottles and wine decanters, occupied another. An enormous globe of the earth, mounted in a floor-stand that permitted it to be rotated on the globe's axis points, occupied the third corner, along with wall-mounted racks of rolled up navigation charts. The fourth corner was seemingly a tribute to seafaring. Three different whaling harpoons, looking razor sharp, rested horizontally on wall brackets, while naval bric-a-brac and numerous bottles containing tiny, elaborate ships, filled a dozen wall-mounted shelves on the wall below.
Noticing Amelia's fascination with the room's contents and appearance, Anne said, "Ghastly, isn't it?"
"It's a man's room."
Smiling, Anne said, "Yes, that it is. The professional decorators from Boston that I hired to do the rest of the house refused to even come in here after father yelled at them for making a few small suggestions about modifying its— ambiance. Father allowed me an unfettered hand elsewhere, as long as I promised to leave this room alone. It's taken all my strength of will to uphold that promise."
"Men sometimes need a space of their own to maintain their identity, especially strong, powerful men. I imagine your father spends a great deal of time in here. I doubt if he feels completely comfortable anywhere in the rest of the house, except perhaps his bedroom."
"He can be found in here most days. He manages all his businesses from this room." Pausing for a second, Anne said, "I'm sorry to see that you and Jeremy have become alienated. I had hoped that you would become close friends. You have so much in common."
Adapting quickly to the change of subject, Amelia said sadly, "I'm sorry too. I had begun to enjoy your brother's company. But I'm not looking for a liaison with a libertine."
Anne giggled and said, "Jeremy, a libertine? Oh Amelia, you think that just because he kissed you once? Sometimes you are so old-fashioned."
"He told you? Who else did he tell? His college friends? The kitchen staff? The stable boys?" Amelia voice had risen steadily with each rhetorical question.
Giggling again, Anne said, "Oh, Amelia, calm down, he told no one else. He only told me because he sought my help, and I made him confess to what he had done before I would agree. He said that you won't even speak to him now. I knew that you wouldn't do that unless you had good cause. He's heartbroken and very contrite for his actions. He's attracted to you and wants very much to be your friend."
"I don't wish to associate with somebody that will steal a kiss from a young lady just two days after he has met her."
"He said that he had a moment of weakness. He's wanted to do it since the first time he laid eyes upon you. Your charm and beauty have captivated him. Amelia, please talk with him. If you won't do it for him, or won't do it for yourself, do it for me. My engagement party is just four days away. I can't have Jeremy moping about like he wants to die."
Amelia sighed. "Very well, Anne. I'll talk with him; just for you."
"Wonderful. Thank you, Amelia. I promise you that he won't get out of line again. Wait here; I'll send him in."
Amelia sat there, quietly dreading the next few minutes, as Anne left the room. When Jeremy entered, he closed the door behind him and walked to a place directly in front of her where he dropped on one knee. Amelia simply sat and stared at him impassively, with her hands folded on her lap.
"Miss Turner, I beg your forgiveness. I was weak and gave in to temptation. I'm so sorry. I've been miserable ever since I did it. You were right to slap my face and to punish me by not talking to me. Please forgive me."
Amelia couldn't deny the tone of remorse and sincerity in his voice.
"Mr. Westfield, I will not be treated like a 'camp follower.' I have come here to celebrate the announcement of your sister's engagement, not to act as a paramour for you, or your friends."
"Miss Turner, despite my lack of good judgment two nights ago, I assure you that neit
her I, nor any of my friends, have ever thought of you as anything other than a lady. I have been most distressed since being excluded from your regard. I entreat you to forgive my moment of weakness. I will do whatever is necessary to restore me to your good graces."
"Mr. Westfield, I have agreed to talk with you as a favor to your sister. I do not easily forgive such actions as you have taken. If I forgive your transgression, it will only be with the understanding that any further such behavior will conclude any relationship that you ever hope to have with me, or my friends."
Reaching out, he gently took one of her small hands in his very large hand. "I assure you, Miss Turner, that there will be no further such transgressions. If I again feel the overwhelming urge to kiss you, I will secure your permission first. Is that acceptable?"
Before she could answer, the door to the study opened and a parlor maid walked in. Seeing them, she curtseyed, and backed out very quickly, while apologizing for the disturbance. She had come in to clean without realizing that the room was in use.
Amelia wondered for a moment about the propriety of being in the closed room with Jeremy without benefit of a chaperone. Returning her attention to Jeremy, she said quietly, "Mr. Westfield, I will forgive your moment of weakness, this one time. I believe you are sincere in your apology, and will take you at your word that there will be no further breeches of etiquette."
Smiling for the first time in two days, he said, "Thank you, Miss Turner. I will remain a perfect gentleman at all times." Releasing her hand he stood up and asked, "May I escort you back to the music room?"
His offer surprised her, but then she realized that he obviously wanted to show the others that they had reconciled. She hesitated for a few moments and then nodded, accepting his arm, first to rise from the sofa, then to walk back to the music room. As they entered the room, all eyes traveled immediately to them. Anne smiled ever so slightly, as Jeremy escorted Amelia to a sofa and then sat down alongside her while maintaining a proper distance. Harry had a slightly forlorn look as the other occupants of the room returned to their conversations.
When lunch was announced, Jeremy offered Amelia his arm. She looked into his eyes before accepting it. If she had seen any hint of a smirk, she would have refused, but all she saw was a look of genuine concern. He knew that this was an important moment and was not being frivolous. As Amelia took his arm she noticed the look of disappointment on Harry's face, but she still proceeded to the dining room with Jeremy.
During lunch Jeremy was once again his charming self. He knew that she was serious in her threat to sever their relationship if he abused the privilege of her company. She began to feel confident that he would behave himself.
From that point on he started to monopolize Amelia's time again. The other young men refrained from asking her to dance that evening, concentrating instead on the other girls. Amelia did dance with a few of the other male guests, but was reclaimed quickly after each dance by Jeremy. Harry consoled himself by concentrating most of his attention on Barbara Pierce.
The first outside contact since the weekend storm had dropped so much snow, arrived at the house just before lunch on Wednesday. The rider, a plump middle-aged man of about forty years with a face the color of red turnips from the bitter cold, rode his weary roan horse up the driveway and was immediately invited by Mr. Westfield to come inside to warm up and dine with the family and guests.
"I'm amazed that you've managed to clear the road in front of your estate so quickly," the rider, since identified as Mr. Hiram Wilcox, said as he prepared to dip a spoon into his soup.
"We've been fortunate to have my son and a few of his friends here," Mr. Westfield said. "Together with the household staff, they made quick work of the snow."
"The rest of the region is in terrible shape. I've been sent out by the city council to contact local residents, in an effort to enroll volunteers for snow removal work on the main roads, and to find residents willing to supply hot beverages and food to the volunteers while we're working. I couldn't get through in a few places because my horse was already too winded or the drifts impassable."
"Where did you have to turn back?"
"I couldn't get through to Acushnet, or into Coury Heights or Plainville."
"I can either provide you with a fresh mount, or have one of my people try to contact the folks there."
"I still have a lot of area to cover. If you could send someone to tell them of the work effort, it would help a great deal."
"I'll take care of it, Mr. Wilcox."
"Thank you, sir."
"I'm as eager to get the roads open as anyone in this region. I'm expecting a number of guests this weekend. Have you heard if the trains are running yet?"
"Nothing's come through town since the storm began, but I expect they're working to clear the tracks. Things should start returning to normal in a few days."
"We'll certainly do our part. I'll send hot beverages out for all the men while they're working in this area, and provide hot meals during the noon hour."
After Mr. Wilcox had gone, Mr. Westfield implored both his male employees and guests to consider joining the work-force. Within an hour all the able bodied men left to join snow removal work crews at the designated places where the crews would be assembling to receive work assignments. The women spent the afternoon talking, reading, playing cards, or listening to Beverly play the harpsichord.
The men returned in time to eat dinner, but they were far too tired for dancing, and the musicians were too tired to play anyway after helping with the road clearing effort. The men retired early to get a good night's sleep in preparation for another strenuous day, while the women returned to the music room.
The following morning found the house again peopled only by women, and a few male staff members and guests who were too aged or infirm to be of any help in snow clearing efforts. All of the other men had left at first light. Rather than simply listening to music all day, Amelia visited the mansion's library and selected a large stack of books to bring back to her bedroom where she could read uninterrupted. Her selections included:
The Fashionable Dancer's Casket, 1856
Universal Dancing Master: A Handbook of Etiquette for Ladies and Gentlemen, 1859
The Handbook of Etiquette, 1860
Mixing in Society, 1860
Manners and Tone of Good Society, 1879
and, Our Etiquette and Social Observances, 1881
She spent the rest of the morning reading, not taking a break until midday when the work crew for the area came to the mansion for lunch. The men that had volunteered for the snow removal efforts represented every possible age, size, and profession. There were grey-haired senior citizens and boys as young as ten or eleven. The men congregated in groups that appeared indicative of their occupation, if clothes and demeanor were any indication. The largest number wore clothes and boots particularly well suited to wet weather. Their hands were scarred and their skin was like leather, making Amelia believe them to be fishermen, sailors, or dock-workers. The next largest group wore heavy cotton and wool clothing, with leather boots. Their scarred and leathery skin led Amelia to believe them to be farmers, freight-haulers, or livery people. Finally there was a group with less coarse clothing and appearance. Amelia assumed them to be the shopkeepers, businessmen, and professionals. Coalesced temporarily into a single unit with a common goal, the brief respite was enough for them to immediately separate and seek the company of their fellows.
Temporary tables had been erected in the ballroom for the meal, and all the women assisted the regular staff in serving the food. Hot loaves of bread, just removed from the ovens, and freshly churned butter, disappeared so fast that one might think they had never been put out at all. After an initial bowl of steaming clam chowder was served to every worker, the women served bowls of lamb stew, then refilled the bowls with the thick mixture of meat, potatoes, onions, and carrots until the men refused further portions. There wasn't much demand for milk, but coffee and tea cups
needed constant refilling.
After lunch, the men rose to renew the snow removal efforts. A number of loud groans were heard as aching muscles complained to their owners, who then willingly passed the complaints on to anybody within hearing range. The road between town and the mansion grounds was now passable by horse and should be accessible by carriage before dark.
Sometime during the late afternoon, a carriage was driven up the driveway and parked in front of the carriage house just beyond the stable. Amelia overheard one of the staff say that it was the carriage in which the four girls were riding last Friday when the storm halted its progress and left them stranded. Amelia wondered if it was possible for a spirit, or spirits, to haunt a carriage. And if so, were the spirits of the real Amelia and the others still in the carriage? Could they help the four girls return to their own time? Would they help them? And most importantly, how could they be contacted?
That night the men were understandably exhausted, with the older men practically falling asleep in their soup at dinner. As soon as the meal was over they said goodnight and left for their bedrooms. Together with volunteers from all over the area, they had succeeded in opening up the main roads. Limited wagon and carriage travel was now possible. Hopefully, the many guests expected for the party would be able to complete their travel.
The young women, again left without male companionship for the evening, passed the hours playing cards.
"It's too bad you don't have your tarot deck," Martha said to Amelia as she stood behind her, watching her play bridge.
"We have a tarot deck," Anne said, looking up quickly from her hand. "Have you developed an interest in the occult, Amelia?"
"Amelia is simply wonderful," Martha said. "Her predictions are always very accurate."
"Really?" Anne said.
Giving Martha an angry grimace with her head turned so that no one else could see, Amelia said, "It only seems that way. I've had a bit of fun making general predictions that can be interpreted different ways."
When The Spirit Moves You Page 13