Toil and Trouble (25 page)

So, the Victorians were pretty freaking unbelievable. A woman with a healthy appetite meant she also had a healthy appetite for bedroom sports? Good God. I glanced at Christine’s plate again and noticed only a mere indentation in her fish while her mutton was untouched. The two Georges rescued me from further embarrassment by removing our plates while a female servant began replacing them with new plates and glasses. Then the two Georges returned with something I will never forget as long as I live. And I don’t mean in a good way.

“Second course,” George * * *1 began. “Boiled calf’s head, brains in butter and herb sauce, citrus cranberry sauce, carrots in dilled cream sauce, tipsy cake and claret.”

V O M I T.

Well, thank God women were supposed to show restraint at the dinner table. I had no argument with that although the tipsy cake sounded interesting. The boiled calf’s head was absolutely repulsive and I couldn’t help but notice Rand’s avoidance of the nasty thing. Pelham, on the other hand, didn’t wait for the two Georges to begin serving him and tore off a piece of the cheek revealing a toothy grin. George * * *2 ladled up a spoonful of brains and butter sauce on my plate, a lump of cranberry compote and a couple of inconspicuous carrots smothered in a white sauce before departing back into the kitchen. I immediately went for the carrots, being careful not to consume them too quickly, lest Rand think I was interested in a carrot of another sort.

After finishing my last carrot, I eyed the mound of brains amid bleeding butter as it ran the entirety of my plate. It seemed like minutes as I forked a very small bite and brought it to my lips reluctantly. The taste was horrid and I felt myself start to gag. I washed down the brains with a healthy gulp of claret and thrust my spoon into the cranberry, hoping it might soothe my thoroughly disturbed taste buds. The cranberry citrus goulash was as tart as biting into a lemon and I decided I was finished.

“You will sample the tipsy cake?” Christine asked. She cut me a piece no more than the width and length of my index finger and plopped it onto my plate. The cake looked alright but after taking a bite, tipsy wasn’t a good description. There was no taste of alcohol at all and instead, it was dry and felt like I was chewing cement. What a disappointment. I washed it down with the claret and wanted to brush my teeth, the brain film still hanging onto my molars.

“Have you given more thought to Christmas dinner?” Pelham asked Christine.

Christine beamed and clapped her hands together ecstatically. “Oh, yes, I have completed the list of courses and I have even arranged for games.”

“Christmas?” I started, downing another mouthful of claret.

Christine faced me with a large smile. “Oh yes, Miss…”

“Jolie.”

“Jolie,” she corrected with an embarrassed smile that gave way to an excited smile over Christmas planning. “Christmas at Pelham Manor is just lovely. It is a true German celebration. You will so enjoy it. I am terribly sorry you cannot be with your own family but we will try to make it as enjoyable for you as we can. Won’t we, brother?”

Pelham smiled. “Yes, of course we will.”

“Really, William,” Rand started, throwing an angry look in my direction.

Pelham silenced Rand with his hand. “It is the Christmas season, Balfour, you might learn from Dickens’ example.”

Maybe he was referencing Dickens’, A Christmas Carol. If I could remember correctly, Dickens wrote in Victorian times and seemed to be mostly concerned with the plight of the have nots. Hmm, more importantly, when the hell was Christmas? I really wasn’t planning on staying that long, if I could help it. I needed to get Rand to use his warlock abilities and get me the hell back to my own time—with a few seconds to spare me from Gwynn’s blade. And, I also needed to do a bit of research into Mercedes. The more I thought about her bizarre words and abilities, the more I thought she might be able to help. So, no offense to Old Saint Nick, but Christmas didn’t enter into my plans.

“When is Christmas?” I asked.

Christine faced me, wide eyed. “Why, in half a fortnight.”

That was just one week away.

I gulped the remainder of my claret, eyed the forlorn calf’s head and resolved to get on the next train out of 1878 asap.

Seventeen

The next morning, after tossing and turning all night, thinking of and refuting ways to get back to my own time, I awoke to find a ray of sun struggling to get through my drawn curtains. I yawned, stood up and yanked the curtains back. The sun’s brightness assaulted me as it reflected off the blanket of snow covering the trees, bushes and grounds outside Pelham Manor.

My heart sped up. I didn’t belong here; I had to get back to my own time. Yet, insofar as I could see, there was no way to get there. Rand had clearly demonstrated his aversion to helping me and he was my only hope. My heaving chest felt like it might cave in on itself so I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, focusing on my exhale. My heart’s palpitations slowed and a wave of refreshing calmness washed over me. I had two goals, first to find out more about Mercedes; and second, to persuade Rand I wasn’t after his money, but his help.

I opened my weary eyes and gazed out the window again, trying to appreciate the beauty of the sparkling snow. The tranquility of the moment was interrupted when Rand and Pelham appeared, Pelham sporting a thick blanket around his shoulders. He took such small steps that Rand basically hobbled next to him. Hmm, I would’ve loved to have been a fly on the wall for their conversation because I was convinced it had everything to do with me. Obviously Rand didn’t want me here.

Well, while I might not have been able to magick myself into a fly (ew), I was able to assume the shape of the fox. I turned away from the window, observing my floor length nightgown. Not wanting to take the time to magick myself into the height of Victorian fashion, I decided to venture outside in my nightie, despite the fact that it would be considered indecent to be seen in my undergarments. At this point, I didn’t care. Besides, once I became a fox, my clothes would be destroyed anyway.

I checked the empty hallway outside my bedroom which only emphasized the early hour by the fact that the entire house was silent with not even the sounds of maids stirring the coals. I crept down the stairs into the short hallway that linked the back entrance of Pelham Manor. Once there, I opened the door, only to find Rand and Pelham just twenty feet ahead of me. I tip-toed into the snow and closed the door behind me as carefully as I could. Noticing a skeletal bush covered in downy snow, I hid behind it and closed my eyes, calling my fox. I envisioned the creature flooding my body with a spry quickness I could feel through my blood. Shape shifting is not painful; your head begins to cloud, like you’re about to pass out and
voila
, you’re on all fours.

I scampered out from behind the bush and scurried the distance separating me from Rand and Pelham. I had to be careful to remain covered by the bushes so neither would notice me—I mean, wasn’t fox hunting a national pastime in England?

“Thank you for assisting me outside, Balfour,” Pelham started. “I am not quite so hot now.”

Rand merely nodded and grabbed Pelham’s arm when Pelham miss-stepped and nearly fell over. Pelham heaved a frustrated sigh and gratefully allowed Rand to support him. Then his body went still and he fought to catch his breath with only his contorted face revealing his agony. Guilt suffused me—I could heal Pelham; I could take away his pain and sickness. At the same time, though, was it right for me to do so? Was I in a position to make such a decision? I didn’t think I was.

“Where does it hurt, Pel?” Rand asked, his expression full of concern.

Pelham sighed. “Pain is a general theme of the whole of my body.”

Rand said nothing but maneuvered Pelham to a wooden bench overlooking the grove of elm trees. Rand swept the snow from the bench and supported Pelham’s upper arms as the weaker man attempted to seat himself. Rand placed Pelham’s blanket around his shoulders before positioning his hands above Pelham’s head. Then he closed his eyes and his aura amplified its blue radiation. When Rand opened his eyes, Pelham glanced up at him with a smile.

“I do not understand how you are able to do that, Balfour, but I thank you all the same.”

“Let us leave it as one of the world’s unsolved mysteries,” Rand said with a laugh.

Hmm, so Rand had already mastered the ability to remove pain. Although it wasn’t the be all end all, neither was it something relegated to an intermediate. Maybe Rand
was
more advanced in his magic than I’d presumed. I hoped it was far enough advanced that once blended with mine, we could send me home again.

“Pelham, would you be averse to discussing Miss Wilkins?” Rand asked, standing before Pelham with a worried expression marring his otherwise perfect face.

Pelham shook his head and looked incredibly tired, almost achingly so. “What is worth discussing?”

“She does not belong here, Pel,” Rand started.

Pain and anger shuddered through my fox body. How could he be so cold, so uncaring? Hadn’t he understood when I said I was a witch? What would it take to convince him I wasn’t after his fortune? Maybe I hadn’t done enough to prove my powers...

“And what shall we do with her?” Pelham retorted. “Throw her into the cold?” His voice cracked and he closed his eyes, looking as though he would fall asleep right there.

Rand frowned, turning around to face the grove of elm trees as he crossed his arms against his chest. “There are places for people like her—people with dementia.”

Before I had the chance to squeal my protest, Pelham beat me to it. “I hardly think her mad, Balfour. She nearly met her death in the snow—it seems perfectly acceptable that she would be a bit…delirious.”

God, at least someone was supportive. Thank you, Pelham! Rand continued to shake his head, apparently hell bent on believing my marbles were lost. “Pel, you must admit, if only to yourself, the fact that you enjoy Christine having a playmate. You know I love nothing more than seeing your sister happy…”

“Christine has not been happier since Miss Wilkin’s arrival. The vivacity she now exhibits has replaced the sullen and withdrawn creature she once was.”

Rand continued staring at the horizon, his jaw tight, making his features hard. “Yes, but that is not to say that Miss Wilkins might harbor ill intentions regarding you and your fortune.” Pelham laughed as Rand faced him with an expression of surprise.

“And what of your fortune?” Pelham asked, his chin tipped in defiance. “Your fortune is far more sizeable than mine.”

Rand raised his brows and nodded, shifting a pine cone with his shoe. “I have not rejected that thought either, Pel. I do not believe Miss Wilkins cares whose fortune will be pillaged as long as she can get her grubby little hands on someone’s.”

Grubby little hands? Seriously? God, the more I saw of this 1878 version of Rand, the more I disliked him. If ever I thought the Rand I knew so well was a little uptight and old fashioned, he was nothing compared to this Rand.

Pelham sighed heavily and the anger in Rand’s face dissolved into concern for his friend. “Are you well?” he asked in a small voice.

Pelham nodded slowly. “Yes, although I find day by day I become weaker.” He was quiet for a moment. “If I should meet my end…”

“Do not say such things,” Rand interrupted, pain visible in his eyes. “You thought it merely an insignificant cold?”

Pelham shook his head. “That was for Christine’s sake, Balfour.”

“Perhaps I should send for Mr. Hodgins,” Rand started. Hmm, I had to wonder at the fact that Rand didn’t heal Pelham, himself? Maybe, his magic wasn’t yet strong enough.

Pelham shook his head. “No, I will not see the doctor.” He paused for a moment, feigning interest in his fingernails. “Shall we change the subject?”

“Pel, if you are merely being headstrong...”

“Say no more of it, I am well.” Pelham’s jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a straight line, signaling the fact that he wouldn’t discuss the topic any longer. “What became of that vile creature who set his eyes on my Christine?”

Rand’s hands fisted at his sides and he took a few steps forward. “Sinjin received his just rewards, Pel.”

My ears perked at the mention of Sinjin. Could this be the same Sinjin, my Sinjin? I couldn’t imagine it could be any other. How common was the name Sinjin anyway?

“Have you located him, then?” Pelham asked.

Rand nodded and continued pacing back and forth, his jaw clenched. “Yes, I did not want to inform you until your health had improved but Mr. Sinclair is no longer welcome in the upper circles of London, Yorkshire, Derbyshire, and the Midlands.”

“Thank you, my good friend.”

Rand stopped pacing and patted Pelham’s shoulder, a sad smile appearing on his face. “Anything for you and Christine, Pel. You are all the family I have left.”

Pelham covered Rand’s hand with his own, patting it consolingly. “Then perhaps you will allow me one more request, Balfour?”

“Of course.”

“Please allow Miss Wilkins to stay.”

Rand pulled his hand away and sighed. “William,” he started.

“At least through Christmas. I could not turn her away during this season. Perhaps by the time the holidays are over she will have regained her memory?” He became thoughtful. “And she is quite lovely.”

Rand chuckled, a deep, harmonious sound that echoed through the trees. “Ah, your ulterior motives have surfaced.” The smile melted into a frown again. “Lovely or not, I cannot ignore my suspicions.”

Pelham cocked his head and an amused smile lit his lips. “Balfour, always looking out for us. It is my hope the mysterious Miss Wilkins will grow on you, old man. Perhaps she will change your opinion dramatically.”

Rand remained serious. “Do not conceive any matchmaking notions in that head of yours.”

Pelham’s smile widened, making him appear incredibly young, only his pallor the reminder of his ill health. “Tell me you do not find Miss Wilkins quite fetching?”

Rand appeared to be having a mental conflict, his eyebrows knitted and his lips pressed into a rigid line. “I would be blind not to notice her beauty,” he said in a small voice, as if trying not to admit it to himself, let alone Pelham.

Pelham nodded. “I can now die a satisfied man, Balfour,” he said and attempted to stand, looking like a wobbly newborn giraffe. Rand was instantly by his side, taking his arm and helping him to his feet.

“Shall we retire inside?” Rand asked, stepping slightly away to allow him the dignity of walking unassisted.

Pelham just nodded.

I began to experience the lightheadedness inherent in my magic whenever it begins to wane, so I scampered back to my snowy bush. I allowed the fox to leave my body, and watched as she trotted off to join her natural world again. The raw cold of the snowy air slapped me back to attention. I glanced down at myself, remembering my nightgown which was now ripped along the breast area and soaking up the snow. Well, so much for that. I closed my eyes, trying to ward off the cold and imagined a pair of thick and insulating pants, and an oversized sweatshirt. The clothing suddenly enveloped me like a warm hug. Not wanting to waste any more time to magick a pair of shoes, I hurried back up the snow covered path to Pelham manor and opened the door as quietly as I could. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself in my current getup. The house was just as quiet as it had been when I’d first descended the stairs. I tiptoed to my bedroom and once safely ensconced in my room, behind the locked door, I relaxed.

So, Sinjin was once involved with Christine. Intrigue piqued my curiosity. Hmm, this little situation had to be the reason for all the bad blood between Rand and Sinjin—it had to be. Absentmindedly, I magicked off my clothes and tried to remember the style of the nightgown I’d been wearing. Grasping a picture of it in my mind, I felt the lightweight fabric materialize as it skimmed my knees and flowed over my shoulders. I wrapped my arms around myself, still chilled to the bone and opened my bedroom door, glancing down the hallway to ensure I was still alone. The coast was clear so I ran the long corridor separating me from Christine’s room and knocked on her door.

“I am asleep, Elsie!” she called.

“It’s Jolie,” I whispered but didn’t wait for her response. I opened her door and entered, carefully closing it behind me.

Christine sat up in her canopy bed and rubbed the surprise from her eyes. “Jolie, are you ill?”

“Yes, I mean no.” I took a seat on her bed. The fire was still flickering in her fireplace, making the room almost too warm. Hmm, it wasn’t lost on me that Elsie had allowed my fire to go out. What a…

But, on to more important subjects such as the situation between Sinjin and Christine. I didn’t imagine Christine would willingly discuss Sinjin, seeing as how we’d basically just met but maybe it was worth a try. Being stuck in a house with only two men for company would definitely make me yearn for some estrogen. And if natural coercion failed, I could always charm her, much though I didn’t want to.

“I overheard your brother and Rand discussing someone named Sinjin?” I initiated.

Christine nodded and her gaze fell to her fidgeting hands as a blush suffused her cheeks. “Yes.”

“Tell me about him,” I started, taking her hand and offering what I hoped was a consoling smile. I mean, despite my burning curiosity about Sinjin, I really did care for Christine and if I could help her with any pain she was harboring, I was happy to do it. Think of it as killing two birds with one stone.