by Kit Morgan
Let’s see, if this was 1889, she was about 130 years in the past. Yikes! And she’d been missing from her time since last night, though she still suspected her father wouldn’t notice she was missing until tomorrow. Then what would happen? How would he feel? And what about work? They probably thought she ran off the job and wasn’t coming back. Nothing for them to sneeze at, since most of them didn’t want her there to begin with.
No, wait – anyone who took her out of her own time could presumably put her back four seconds later with no one noticing. She didn’t have to worry about what was going on there until she got back there. She needed to deal with … this. Here. Now.
Mildred returned to the bed. “Now, why don’t we get you out of those clothes and into some fresh ones?”
Mitzi looked at the rumpled dress she wore. She was so tired the night before, she hadn’t bothered to change into any pajamas. For all she knew people around here didn’t wear them.
Mildred went to an armoire and pulled out a few dresses.
Mitzi’s eyes widened. “Wow, will you look at that?”
“They’re very very stunning, aren’t they?” Mildred bought them to the bed and held one up, a beautiful blue gown trimmed in white lace with short puffy sleeves and a white sash. “How about this one?”
“It’s so pretty.” Mitzi wasn’t usually one for dresses, but she could have some fun with these.
“Perfect! Why don’t you put it on while I see to our picnic?” Mildred went back to the armoire, pulled out what looked like underthings and some sort of petticoat, and brought them to the bed.
Mitzi stared at the pile in panic. “How am I supposed to put all that on?”
“Would you like some assistance?”
Mitzi quickly shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to have someone help her dress. “Never mind, I’ll manage.”
“Very well. I’ll be right back.” Mildred headed out the door.
Mitzi got up, looked at the clothes and shook her head. “I should’ve told her to lay them out in order. Then I’d at least know what went on first.”
She picked up what looked like a pair of pantaloons, but they were so lacy and frilly she couldn’t be sure. “No way.” She tossed them to the side and picked up a corset. “Absolutely not!” Next was a pair of white silk stockings. She spied the garters used to hold them up and laughed. “Wow, that’s interesting.” There was absolutely nothing resembling underwear. “Great. I wonder if there’s a laundromat nearby?” She looked around. “Not likely.” With a shrug, she began to change.
By the time she had most of the outfit figured out, Mildred returned. “Oh, don’t you look lovely!”
Mitzi turned around, letting the long blue skirt swish. She was tempted to twirl in a circle but decided it was silly. “It’s sure pretty.”
“You look very very good in blue, my dear. You should wear it often.”
Mitzi’s cheeks heated at the compliment. She didn’t get compliments like that often. “Thanks. I never wear a lot of blue.”
“Come, look.” Mildred motioned to a mirror across the room.
Mitzi hadn’t noticed it before and headed over. “Cool.”
Mildred followed her. “Are you cold, dear?”
“No, it’s just an expression.” She stared at the mirror in awe. “Wow, is that me?”
“Of course, it is.” Mildred looked her over. “Oh! I’m afraid your hair isn’t as lovely as the dress. At least for the moment. Come, sit at the vanity and let’s see what can be done about it.”
Mitzi followed her to a small vanity table, where there was another mirror, a comb, brush, pins and a pretty silver box. She opened it. “Ribbons.”
“Yes, now sit and let’s see if I’m as good as I remember.”
Mitzi sat. “What do you mean?”
“Well, before I rose to my position in the court, I could make a young lady look quite fetching.” She giggled nervously. “I did quite a bit of matchmaking back then.”
“How so?” Mitzi looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced. Her hair was a mess.
“Well, you notice things – certain young gentlemen admiring certain young ladies. I just gave them a nudge in the right direction is all.”
“That sounds like basic observation to me.” Mitzi picked up the brush.
“Let me, dear.” Mildred took it and undid the chignon Mitzi had made yesterday morning before going to work at the casino, then brushed her long blond hair. “It’s not just observing, you see. It’s knowing the gentleman and the lady. They have to have the right temperament for each other. Sadly, many that marry do not.”
Mitzi’s eyes closed. No one had brushed her hair since she was a child. It felt good. “How do you know?”
“For one, there’s a big difference between lust and love, my dear. But it’s easy enough to tell. Trust me, I’ve seen my share of both in a man’s eyes. And a woman’s.”
“You sound like you’ve seen a lot, Mildred.” Mitzi winced. “I mean, Lady Mildred.”
“Nevermindnevermind – call me what you like. Except of course in front of the royal family. And if you ever find yourself at court, address them properly – Prince Asger, Princess Raina, Prince Vale …”
Mitzi laughed. “I’d better stick with Lady Mildred. It’s just that … well, never mind.”
“I understand, dear. I know there are no lords or ladies where you’re from.”
“Not officially, anyway” Mitzi wasn’t sure how much she could tell the woman. Andel and Maddie might insist she was in the 19th century, but would Mildred? What would she do if she found out? Did anyone else in the castle know about the MacDonalds? She should ask Andel and Maddie the next time she spoke with them. At this point, they were her only ticket out of here. Until then she’d just have to play along.
If she really was in the 19th century (part of her still refused to believe it), she’d better play it cool and not let anyone else know what century she was from. They’d probably freak out. The bit of her mind that clung to the “I must be in a coma and having a really funky dream” scenario was growing weaker by the hour, but blowing someone else’s mind wouldn’t help her any.
“Hand me a blue ribbon, dear,” Mildred ordered.
Mitzi dug through the box, found a blue one and handed it to her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not sure yet, but it’ll look fabulous!”
Mitzi’s smile quickly vanished when Mildred picked up the comb and began teasing her hair. “What … what are you doing again?”
“Trust me,” Mildred teased away. “You’ll be beautiful!” She flipped a large portion of Mitzi’s hair over her face, blinding her. Now she couldn’t see what was happening.
She felt helpless. But then, she was helpless. How on Earth could she get out of here? If Dallan and Shona brought her to this place, why did they leave her? What was going on? Every time she thought about it, her stress level went through the roof. Her heart sped up, her muscles tightened and eventually she’d get a monstrous headache.
The best she could do, Mitzi realized, was try not to think about it – a tall order when she was in a castle dressed in period clothing and had a Lucy lookalike teasing the living daylights out of her hair. It was a good thing her face was obscured – she didn’t want Mildred asking about the tears forming in her eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
“Nice shirt,” Lany commented. He hoped his minimal German was up to this.
The peddler looked up and smiled. “Business is decent, at long last.”
“Is it, now?”
“Oh, yes. Why just the other day the widow Hansen bought five pots from me.”
Lany made a face. “What does a widow need with five pots?”
“Don’t ask me, I just sell them.” He turned to another customer, through with the conversation.
This would be trickier than he thought. He glanced at Dallan and Shona, who nodded and walked over. Dallan turned to Shona. “Fancy a new teapot, dear?”
She and Lany tried not to smile. The only time he ever used that term was when he was playacting. “Hmm, do you have any silver?” she asked.
The peddler coughed and sputtered, then said in English. “Silver!”
Dallan eyed the peddler’s shirt. “That’s a fine garment. Ye must carry some items of silver if ye can afford a shirt like that.”
The peddler immediately pulled his cloak tighter.
Shona stepped toward him. “I like your shoes,” she said slyly.
The peddler gulped.
“Tell me, wherever did you get them?”
He began to twitch. “I … I didn’t steal them!”
She drew closer. “Didn’t you?”
His lower lip trembled. “All right, I did!” He glanced around to see who might have heard. “But … I didn’t take his trousers!”
She got a little closer as Dallan and Lany moved to block the view of any onlookers, making it appear as if the peddler was showing them something. “Who did you steal these from?”
“I …” He swallowed hard. “… don’t know who he was. Some skinny lad. He must be from Holland or Belgium, maybe even Lacona.” He glanced between them. “No, no one from Lacona would be caught dead around here.”
Lany scratched his head. “Why not?”
“Are you addled in the brain? With everything going on …”
“I’m sorry, we’re not from around here,” Shona said sweetly.
“That’s obvious,” the peddler snapped, the spell of her voice broken. “If you were, you’d know of the war.”
“War?” Dallan said.
The peddler sighed. “It’s not official, but it’s coming. Lacona …” He glanced around, then spat on the ground. “They’re crafty, they are. They say they want to make deals, trade, but everyone knows they’re trying to unite our kingdoms, then take over!”
“Unite them,” Shona said. “How?”
The peddler laughed. “Marriage, of course.”
Dallan and Lany shared a look of alarm. “Between whom?” Dallan asked.
“Prince Asger and Princess Velta, who else? Ask anyone around here what that’ll do.”
Dallan’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, then, why would the queen want to join the two kingdoms?”
“Because Lacona has something we don’t – a big army, and a fleet of ships twice the size of ours. With Germany breathing down our neck, we need protection – more protection than Queen Victoria or William III will give us. But at what cost?”
Shona covered her mouth. “Dallan?”
“Aye, we need to go.” He turned back to the peddler. “What happened to the lad ye stole these clothes from? Where’d ye see him last?”
The man looked sheepish. “I left him about three miles from here, in a glen near Aurora Brook.”
“Can ye tell us how to get there?”
“I can …” He took on a sly look.
Before he could open his mouth Dallan grabbed his shirt collar. “Tell us and we won’t turn ye over to the police for theft. Or would ye rather show them?”
The peddler looked up into the Scot’s seething face and shook his head.
“I didna think so. Now, where’d ye leave the lad?”
He gulped. “Take the road north out of the village. You’ll come to a fork. Go right. Follow the road a couple of miles, take another right at the next fork. I camped down the trail.”
“A trail?” Shona said.
“Yes, m’lady. That’s all there is at that point. Barely wide enough for my cart and horse.” He looked at Dallan. “I camped near the brook.”
Dallan released him. “We thank ye.” He looked him up and down. “And be grateful we dinna turn ye over to the magistrate.”
“Magistrate? You mean the sheriff?”
“Aye.” Dallan shrugged at Shona and Lany.
“Er, thank you, kind sirs,” the peddler said, then smiled weakly at Shona and led his horse elsewhere.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Shona said, “At least he’s telling the truth. I sense no deceit in him concerning our conversation.”
“Aye, but the man probably cheats whenever he can.” Dallan looked at a baker’s stand. “Best we buy something to have later on. Who knows how long this will take?”
Lany nodded and went to speak to the baker as Shona sighed. “Well, this is just wonderful.”
“Aye, Melvale didna say anything about trouble brewing between Dalrovia and a neighbor.”
“Probably because he didn’t know. You’ll notice how wary that peddler was.”
Dallan nodded. “Probably doesna want to land in the stocks.”
“They have those here?” Shona said.
“I wouldna doubt it. We dinna ken a lot of things about this place. I thought this would be simpler.”
“Simpler than our last assignment?” she said with a laugh.
Dallan sighed. “Find it amusing, d’ye?”
She nodded, unable to help her giggles. “Well, at least there’s been no sign of the men we ran into last time, thank Heaven.”
“Aye. Seems we have enough problems without ‘em.”
Lany returned with more bread and some apples. “Okay, we have dinner. Let’s go.” They set off.
When they reached the fork in the road, they had an incredible view of the castle. “Wow,” Shona said. “Will you look at that? I’ve only ever been inside.”
Dallan put his arm around her. “Aye, it’s grand, is it no?”
“My daughter would love it,” Lany commented. “The boys, less so … unless Vyn found the dungeon.”
“Are your kids familiar with fairy tales?” Shona asked as they set off again.
“Some. But the books obtained are so old and delicate, I’m afraid to handle them.”
“We could get some for you,” she offered.
“That would be great. And I’m sure none of the characters will be wearing polo shirts and tennis shoes.”
“I should say not,” she said. “Er, Dallan? What do we do with this person when we find them?”
“Find out how they got here, then get them home.”
“But someone else will have to … help them forget what they’ve seen.”
He stopped and looked at her. “Ye’re right. We’ll have to take them back wi’ us.” He ran his hand down his face. “This is getting more troublesome by the minute.”
“Let’s find this person first, then take it from there,” Lany suggested. “Besides, we’ve got a much bigger problem.”
Dallan’s jaw twitched. “Aye, such as Prince Asger getting betrothed to another. But is he, or is it just talk? Either way, it canna happen. Mitzi and the boy are already bonding, I can feel it.”
“Me too,” Shona agreed. “And it’s not an easy bonding. The sooner we deal with this, the better.”
Dallan turned and stared at the castle. “What were Andel and Maddie thinking?”
Shona looked too. “I don’t know. But we’d better hurry so we can find out.”
“He’ll be asking you the same thing,” Lany pointed out.
They looked at him in shock, then guilt.
Lany nodded. “Dropping Mitzi near Asger and hoping they run into each other isn’t looking like best practices. And I’m really reconsidering throwing these couples together blind – and not telling our time-travelers they’re going to be time-traveling. It’s causing a lot of headaches.”
Dallan shrugged. “It’s always worked before.”
“Nonetheless …” Lany rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go. We’re wasting valuable time.”
Dallan snorted and looked at Shona. “He reminds me of John.”
“The way you remind me of Kwaku?” she shot back.
Lany blanched and started walking. “Let’s not go there.” His boss, the Lord High Councilor John Eaton, flustered easily. Kwaku Awahnee, Dallan’s predecessor as Time Master, would be joking and laughing at the whole situation. But if Andel and Maddie had indeed betrothed their son to some foreign princes
s, it would be a bigger problem than any of them had anticipated. Especially if the prince and Mitzi Fine were already bonding. What would happen when they told Maddie and Andel that their son couldn’t marry this Princess Velta of Lacona?
They’d find out soon enough. After they found the poor 21st-century fellow wandering about in the 19th-century woods – without his shirt or shoes.
Mitzi sat, her face turned to the afternoon sun and smiled. It felt good, familiar, and Heaven knew she needed something familiar right now. As soon as she and Mildred were done with their picnic, she’d speak with Andel and Maddie. She needed answers, needed to know what she was dealing with – that this wasn’t some elaborate hoax, that she was indeed in the year 1889.
“Try the eggs, dear,” Mildred urged. “They’re very very good.”
Mitzi reached for a deviled egg. They looked delicious. Their picnic basket was packed with ham sandwiches, the eggs, fruit and little chocolates for dessert. “Who makes all of this?”
“The palace cook, who else? Or should I say one of the cooks – there are several, you know.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, how would you? Forgive me – I keep forgetting.”
Mitzi looked at the rose bushes surrounding them. “That I’m not from around here?”
“Yes,” Mildred tittered, “but you do seem to fit in.”
“Like I belong in a castle, you mean?”
“Yes, as if … oh, dare I say it?”
“Please dare.”
Mildred giggled. “You could pass for a princess.”
Mitzi’s jaw went slack, right before she laughed.
“You find it amusing?” Mildred asked in shock. “But it’s true! You look every bit a princess in those clothes.”
“But they’re not mine, and where I come from I’m …” She looked away.
“What, dear?” Mildred asked and touched her arm. “Tell me?”
“I’m a … a guard. Like him.” Mitzi nodded at one of the nearby royal guards.
“I seem to recall you mentioning that.”
“Have I?” At this point everything was muddled. Had she told Mildred, or did Andel and Maddie tell her? She picked up another egg and took a bite. What did it matter? Other than she wasn’t sure who knew she was from the future. Should she tell Mildred? She watched the older woman nibble on a ham sandwich. She wore a yellow and pink outfit to their picnic, just as ridiculous as the one from this morning, yet it suited her. “Mildred?”