Down the Rabbit Hole

by J. D. Robb

  The old lady sat very still for a moment, and then allowed the smallest of smiles. “About time, Weston. About time that you actually believed that you are the earl and what you want is what will be.”

  It was his turn to look surprised.

  “I am not saying that I will welcome her with open arms,” the dowager added. “She will have to prove herself worthy. But I will do nothing to hinder the proposal.”

  Weston took her hand and kissed it. She pulled it from him as quickly. “There, you see! You are being obsequious again! It is your right! I am nothing more than an old lady sitting among the tulips waiting to die.”

  “Nonsense, madam.” He stood up and bowed to her. “You are the keeper of an old and ancient title and I value your willingness to pass it on to the woman I have chosen.”

  Her smile grew to almost a grin. “Now that is well said, nephew.”

  They parted on such good terms that Weston was convinced that the coin had more influence than even Mr. Arbuckle knew.

  The conversation with his sister was next. He found her in the small music room, playing Bach. He was relieved. Bach meant that her world was ordered and as happy as it ever could be. If she had been playing Beethoven he would have left the room and waited for another day.

  He took a seat, knowing full well that interrupting her would not be in his best interests. Less than a minute later, she played the final notes and looked over her shoulder at him.

  “I doubt you have come for music appreciation, Weston. And I can go further and guess that you have come to plead for me to reconsider Martha Stepp’s dismissal. I will not.”

  She turned back to the pianoforte and began shifting the music sheets. Dreading Beethoven, Weston came over and sat on the bench beside her, facing the opposite direction.

  “Anne, I respect your decision to dismiss your maid. I know it must have been difficult for you.”

  “No, it was not,” his sister said, raising her chin a little. “And I do not regret it.”

  Anne never made anything easy. He could not imagine how she would ever find someone who would be able to bear her moods. “Yes, be that as it may, I trust you will allow Miss Kemp to help you find a new dresser.”

  “Yes.” Anne drew breath. “She certainly is an improvement over that person she sent as a substitute when she was delayed. At least she had a reasonable explanation for her delay.”

  Anne began to fiddle with the sheets of music in front of her again, and a thought occurred to him.

  “Sister, dear, do you even want a Season? Do you even want to go to London; and if you do, then why?”

  “Of course I want to go. And finding a husband is what the Season is for.”

  Hmm, he thought, not exactly enthusiastic about finding a spouse. He thought about the women he had seen in the twenty-first century and wondered if there was a way for Anne to have what she truly wanted.

  “I do believe there could be more to the Season than husband hunting. If that were just a side interest, then what would you really like to do with your time?”

  He looked at her as she furrowed her brow and stared into the middle distance as if trying to find an answer.

  “Music. I would spend all my time attending musicales and operas and meeting composers.” She spoke with a kind of defiance that made him realize how rarely anyone took her seriously.

  He smiled at her and nodded. “Then that, my girl, is what you shall have. You do not have to go to Almack’s once if you would rather not, and, I would think, one ball a week would satisfy your more traditional relatives.”

  This next sigh was more like a huff. “You are not serious.”

  “I truly am. I have had a recent experience that convinces me that living the life we want is more important than bowing to the conventions.”

  “I suppose this is what comes when one unexpectedly inherits a title,” Anne said. “My father would never have even considered such an idea.”

  “Well, your father held the Earldom of Uxbridge, one of the oldest in England. Let me remind you, however, that our mother was the one time in his life when he gave in to his heart. He had no need to make a second marriage. So even he had a moment of doing what he wished rather than what he must.”

  They rarely spoke of their different fathers, of their mother’s two marrages. His father was no more than an earl’s second son without even “Lord” before his name. Anne’s father had been an earl.

  Lady Anne had always held her title over him, and then fate had intervened, giving him a title he had never expected. Now, if he chose, he could hold his title over her. But he did not so choose. He wanted only one thing now.

  “But what will we tell Miss Kemp? She expects to lead me through a typical Season.”

  “Miss Kemp will be part of your Season, but—and brace yourself for this—she will be doing so as my wife, as the Countess Weston.”

  It had just the effect he expected. It took him some time to convince his sister that if she could live life as she chose, filled with music first and foremost, then she could certainly grant him permission to do so himself.

  “But we know nothing about her.”

  “I do, Anne. I met her in London last Season and we came to know each other quite well. I proposed to her then but she refused, as she thought my family would take offense at my connection to a woman whose parents were divorced.”

  He made himself stay relaxed and waited for the explosion.

  “Divorced? Truly?” She thought a moment. “How have I never heard of it?”

  “You have not been to London.” Weston put a hand on the instrument she sat before. “And music is all you truly need, Anne.”

  She nodded her agreement and was silent a moment. “So, her parents were divorced. How very awkward.”

  It was not the reaction he expected.

  “Is that all?”

  “I am not an idiot, Wes. I gather that her influence is what has led you to a more, shall we say, open mind about my Season. I expect you brought her here for more than my education.”

  “Do not insult her, Anne. She is as much a lady as anyone with a title.”

  She actually patted him on the arm. “I do not mean any insult, brother, only that I see your motives more clearly now.”

  He stood up then and gave her a formal bow. Best not to let this go on any longer or they would wind up hugging each other. “Thank you for your support, my lady. I look forward to sharing the Season with you and my countess.”

  A shake of her head was Anne’s only answer. As he left the room he heard her begin to play something lighthearted, perhaps even happy. Definitely not Beethoven. The notes sang through the air and touched his heart so deeply that he laughed. He laughed out loud.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Weston thought the portrait artist would be the easiest of the lot. More fool he.

  “My lord, you cannot be serious! The painting is virtually complete. To add elements such as these will require a complete reconsideration of the composition so that the eye views what is important.”

  As far as he was concerned, the train, the locket and the coin were what was important, but he knew better than to tell that to the man.

  “I understand that this may entail more time than anticipated. I am willing to consider additional support if that makes the decision easier for you.”

  The artist brightened a little at that suggestion. “I do have other commissions.”

  That may or may not be true. The trustees had found him, and insisted the portrait be an immediate priority. Clearly they feared the third earl would die before his portrait was done, as his uncle, the second earl, had.

  “I trust they will understand your commitment to excellence.”

  The artist smiled a little and picked up the coin. Weston felt a moment of panic but the man merely looked at it, then set it down.
Weston wondered what the man might have wished for, had he known it could grant wishes.

  “All right, my lord. It will be a challenge, but I can rise to the occasion. Can you tell me what these items symbolize so I can cast them in the proper light?”

  The locket was easy; the others took a moment of thought. “The locket symbolizes the love of my life. The train car is the future of England, and the coin, well, the coin represents all that we wish could be.”

  The artist nodded as though he understood perfectly. “I will consider, my lord, and let you know if I need you to pose again.”

  Weston grimaced. He hadn’t considered that possibility, but it was too late to back out now.

  He left the conservatory and sent one of the footman to ask Miss Kemp to join him in the library. It seemed to take forever but he suspected that was only his imagination.

  He was not going to tell her that he had already told his aunt and his sister that he was going to marry her, nor that he’d included the locket in his portrait. He would tell her he loved her and that he hoped the twenty-first century had shown her, as it had shown him, that anything was possible where two hearts were as one.

  He paced the room while he waited, touching items at random; a porcelain figurine on the mantel that reminded him of his sister, one of the leather-bound books that looked as though it was frequently pulled from the shelf, the velvet softness of a tulip in one of the arrangements that appeared on a regular basis. His aunt’s doing, no doubt. How many rooms did she fill with flowers?

  Why should a trip through time awaken in him the realization that he did not know his household, his family, or his world as well as he should? Because he now knew how temporary it was? How easily space and time could be shifted to a different reality?

  Weston doubted that he would ever time travel again, but once was enough to change his view of this world and to realize that the future was, in some part, up to him.

  The footman opened the door and Alice entered. She came to him, smiling a little but with her hands folded neatly at her waist and not the slightest sign of nerves.

  “Thank you for coming, Miss Kemp.” He gestured to the footman to leave the door open.

  “Thank you, my lord, for considering the proprieties.”

  He nodded. “It’s nice to see you smiling,” he began.

  “I do believe that Mr. Arbuckle’s Miss Amy did me a favor. Lady Anne is so relieved to have her gone and me in her place that she has yet to find fault with any of my suggestions.”

  “About that, Alice, there have been some changes in the last hour. I talked to Anne about what she truly wants from her London Season. What she truly wants.” He went on to explain his sister’s true wishes and how he was going to permit her to have the Season she longed for.

  Alice took it all in and stayed silent almost a minute. Well, for thirty seconds, at least. “Does that mean there is no place for me here now?”

  He took a step closer to her, but when she stiffened just a little he did not reach out for her. “There is a place for you here. If there is one thing I learned in the future it is that times change, but they can only change if someone sets the change in motion.”

  “Yes, divorce is so commonplace in the future that it seems absurd that it spells social ostracism here.”

  “And we can begin that change if we set it in motion by marrying and announcing to the world that love is more important to us than social acceptance.”

  “So our possible marriage is going to change how the Regent and the ton view marriage and divorce?”

  “I have no doubt of it,” Weston said, ignoring her skeptical tone. “If we show the world that we mean to be a part of society despite your parents’ behavior, then I am convinced that eventually they will accept us.”

  Alice nodded but was still not smiling. “And given that Lady Anne’s true reason for her Season is to enjoy music and not necessarily to find a match, we need not worry about how our marriage will affect her prospects?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Weston, darling man, I would marry you in a minute if the reaction of the world were my only concern.”

  As she spoke, Alice took a step back; several, in fact. Her voice was so full of regret that Weston was afraid, actually afraid.

  “What society would think was a logical reason to refuse you before, but now, the reality of the future has made me see it differently.” She drew a deep breath and shook her head. “The real reason is far more personal.”

  “Tell me.” He was angry now, and he knew it showed in his voice.

  “I will.” With another breath she began. “Do you know how many times my aunt told me I was just like my mother? Just like her.” Alice closed her eyes. “The very thought terrifies me.” She put her hand on her heart. “It fills me with a soul-wrenching fear that I will commit myself to you and then make your life, our lives, a living hell.”

  “Alice, I cannot imagine that happening.” Though he could see by the fear, the pain, in her eyes how real it was for her. “We love each other. Your mother’s marriage was presented as a fait accompli. I can only wonder why someone with her spirit agreed to it.”

  “Wes, you’re thinking like someone from the twenty-first century. The marriage seemed ideal to her. A husband with wealth and position. A fabulous country home and a town house in London. She assumed that she would provide him with an heir and then be free to find entertainment elsewhere. No one, no one warned her that his jealousy was so easily aroused. No one suspected that every physician they consulted would tell her that after me there would be no more children. The divorce, when it came, was almost as businesslike as the marriage proposal. My father wanted an heir and would give up my respectability to attain it.”

  She threw up her hands in disgust. “Based on what we saw in 2005, I agree that the rejection she experienced is ridiculous. But it is the way it is in this time and place.”

  Before he could answer her, she went on.

  “My whole view of this world is different, now that I have seen the future.” She grasped his arms. “Please tell me you agree that women should be free to choose the life they want.”

  Weston nodded. “Have I ever denied you that, Alice? When you said no I did not press you or go to your father and have him add his support.”

  “It was never you I feared. I worried endlessly about what society would think. What your sister would say. How your trustees would respond.”

  “Alice, we completely agree that women should be free to choose the life they want. We agree that means you are free to choose marriage, if that’s the life you want?”

  She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Honestly I cannot see you as a military officer, as fine as you would look in the uniform.” His attempt to lighten the moment failed.

  “Wes, I am still afraid that I will fail you.”

  “I am not. I know Alice Kemp’s heart as well as I know my own, and while we may sometimes differ in our views of the world, I have no doubt we will listen and learn from each other with open minds and hearts.”

  She pressed her lips together for a moment and then laughed out loud. “How can you know me so much better than I know myself?”

  “So you will consider marriage?” He was afraid to say it aloud, to give words to his hope. Before she answered, Alice walked over and closed the door.

  She came back to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lightly, which was just as well, since her touch was a wild distraction.

  “Yes! Yes, I will marry you, my lord earl!” She leaned back in his arms. “To be married to you, to share a lifetime, is all the wonderland this Alice could ever want.” She laughed out loud again. “Oh dear heaven, it feels so wonderful to say it. To admit it is what I have always wanted.”

  They sealed their agreement in the traditional way, so it was quite a
little while before Weston brought up his next item for discussion.

  “The coin, Alice.” She was tucked against him on the sofa, and he thought she might have fallen asleep. “The very magical coin.” He felt her nod and kissed the top of her head.

  “Did you ever actually wish on the coin, Wes?”

  When he shook his head, she nodded. “Neither did I.”

  “And I am not going to start now, since I already have my heart’s fondest wish.”

  “There are any number of practical things we could ask for.”

  “If you want to make a wish, I will fetch the coin from the conservatory where the artist is finding the proper place for it in my portrait.”

  “You are having it added to the portrait? What a wonderful idea.” Alice sat upright and patted her hair, which did nothing to make it look less tousled. “It will let Miss Amy, Mr. West and Mr. Arbuckle know it is now firmly entrenched in the nineteenth century.”

  “Yes, thank you. I think they will appreciate it.”

  “Let me think about a wish for a day or so. I am so happy now that to ask for more seems selfish.”

  “Only a day or so, Alice, if you please.” He narrowed his eyes, considering his decision once again. “I want to send the coin on its way. I want it to go somewhere, anywhere else but here.”

  Alice laughed. “You do not want to have a tussle with it over who is actually in charge?”

  “You could put it that way. Not to put too fine a point on it, I am afraid of what will happen to Westmoreland if wishes run rampant.”

  “But how will you, as you said, ‘send it on its way’?”

  “Anne’s disgraced lady’s maid will be leaving Westmoreland. I thought that we could ask her if she would like to take charge of it, after explaining its peculiarities, of course.”

  “Of course.” Alice thought about it. “What in the world makes you think she would be interested?”

  “I hate to admit it, but I was holding the coin when the thought came to me. According to the butler, Martha has held the coin too. I suspect she made a wish.”