Living London

chapter Eighteen



After the emotional roller coaster of the day, I wandered into the library on my way upstairs. I walked over to the fire and held out my hands to its blazing warmth when I noticed Persuasion still sitting out on the side table. I picked it up and flipped through the pages, looking for Nanna's note. Once I found it, I did something I hadn't done since I'd been three. I gently tore the page from the book and walked over to the shelf where it belonged. I reread the note aloud. "If you wish, you may return. Simply put on the same gown that got you here. But if you wish to stay, replace the book and don't look back, because you won't get the opportunity. You must always look forward."

With care, I lifted the book to the small space where it had been. After gently replacing it, I waited, wondering if some sort of magical effect would take place. Nothing. Disappointed, I folded the piece of paper with Nanna's note, caressing the bold flourishes with my finger. Then I continued upstairs.

Before I got ready for bed I searched my wardrobe for the dress — the one that I had almost used to go back to my own time. I'd been so close the night before. Just a breath away from making such a huge mistake.

As I searched, I was amazed at how such a short amount of time could change everything so entirely. Only last night I had lost all hope and nearly given into the fear and run. Now, only a scant twenty-four hours later, I was walking on air, full of hope and love. I was loved. Irrevocably and fully loved.

I went through my dresses again, but I couldn't find it. Sighing, I made my way to the desk in the corner of the room. I placed Nanna's note in an old Bible and lovingly caressed the cover before heading to the bed.

As I blew out the candles, I grinned to myself. Now that I was here forever, I'd be saying goodbye to all the modern inventions I'd relied on for so much of my life, but it didn't matter. It was worth it. Love was always worth it. Soon I'd be sleeping next to Morgan, and the thought brought a smile to my face. I drifted into a soft sleep, thankful that I hadn't gotten my wish, that I had stayed here.

Knock, knock, knock…

Ugh. Was I never going to get to wake up without someone trying to pound down my door?

"Miss Westin!" Libby and Mrs. Trimbleton cried in unison.

"Oh, just come in already!" I grouched, wanting to go back to my dreams of Morgan.

They both barreled through the doorway, almost getting stuck as they tried to enter at the same time. "Jocelyn, look!" Mrs. Trimbleton's tone was joyous. "The presses must have run hot all night to get this out! Can you imagine?" She beamed, and I lost all my anger at being awoken.

"What does it say?" I asked, trying to swipe Libby's copy.

"Here!" Libby handed it to me. "Read this one! It's the best, but all of them say about the same thing."

I tumbled out of bed and hauled the paper over to the window for light. I began to read, my smile so wide it was painful.

Fig's Society Note, July 11, 1914

Imagine my humiliation when I was delivered not one, but two notes last night of the most shocking nature, both pertaining to the previously maligned Miss W. Yes, you read correctly — previously. As I have learned, gentle reader, Miss W. was indeed not, I repeat, not ruined by a Lord A., but rather was left in the care of her friends till he could return from a short trip to his country estate to notify his family of his impending marriage. A marriage to Miss W. I, for one, cannot imagine the shock of dear Lord A upon returning to London and discovering not only his beloved future fiancée's distress, but the smear upon his own name from a bit of juicy, but grossly false, gossip. My letters — one from Miss W. herself — demanded apology, and indeed one is warranted. I would imagine that most of the haute ton is thinking the very same thing, wondering desperately how they can garner once again the good graces of one of the ton's brightest stars. I don't doubt that many notes will be written after this column is read and a great army of footmen dispatched on errands that will take them to the southwest corner of Hyde Park. On behalf of myself, I offer a sincere apology to Miss W. It is a sad day indeed when a woman must defend herself against the lies of others, especially in the publishing world. Only two questions remain: why was the rumor spread, and who, gentle reader, did it?

Clutching the paper to my chest, I spun in a circle, thrilled to my core. It was better than I had hoped. The joyful faces of Libby and Mrs. Trimbleton reflected my own, and I rushed to them, wrapping them both in a big hug. Mrs. Trimbleton paused a moment before hugging back, but Libby squeezed me immediately. It was over.

****

As the news had predicted, I was inundated with an obscene amount of correspondence, invitations, and visits from people offering sincere apologies, along with some not-so-sincere apologies. However, one face I did not see was that of Arynna. I was curious as to what she thought of the whole situation, but my curiosity faded quickly. I spent the morning in Morgan's company as we went over wedding details and plans to have the banns read. The true highlight of the morning came when my voucher to Almack's was restored.

Amelia was there to grin with me as I accepted the prized paper from Wains. "Almack's." I sighed, reverence lacing my tone. Though I had to admit, it was more of the idea than the actual place that held my fancy.

After excusing myself from Amelia's and Morgan's company, I rushed upstairs and placed the voucher next to the letter from Nanna. Earlier that morning I had asked Libby if she had taken the dress to be pressed, the one I was missing. She said she hadn't, and I suspected I'd never find that dress again. That was all right with me. I knew I was where I belonged.

A fuzzy sensation began in my head as my fingers traced the letter once more. I sat down and waited for the dizziness to pass. I blinked a few times, then shook my head and stood carefully. As I left the room I had a vague feeling of déjà vu. The hallway was more familiar, and flickers of memories flashed in my mind for brief seconds before they disappeared.

Odd, I thought as I walked into the parlor where Amelia sat sipping tea with Morgan. Seeing her face sent a rush of memories to the front of my mind; Amelia and I whispering behind a plant as we pointed to Lord Rake. Amelia's brother's wedding. Chasing her through the manor of her country estate when we'd been little girls. All these flooded my mind.

Gasping, I turned to Morgan and relived moments with him, too. Morgan smiling at me from across the room, making my cheeks heat. Morgan dancing with me and joking. Morgan as a young boy, his mother scolding him for staring at me and being impolite. His ears had glowed red. Everything from my childhood and adolescence that would have happened had I truly been born in this time filled my head, causing me to waver slightly on my feet.

Morgan was there in an instant, supporting me. "Jocelyn! Love, what is wrong? You nearly swooned!" I recognized his concerned expression as I had another memory of him carrying me when I had tripped in the park.

"You carried me when I was six, after I fell. Didn't you?" I asked.

His expression was first shocked, then it turned to wonder. "Yes, I did," he answered reverently. "That was the first time I saw you. You were so beautiful but stubborn. You didn't want my help."

I giggled as I remembered resenting his help but not for reasons he assumed. I'd been embarrassed to be carried by such a handsome boy. "I was embarrassed," I stated.

"Were you? That explains the lovely red color of your face. I thought you were merely hot. It was summer, after all." He snickered, and I realized he knew he had embarrassed me and had probably done it on purpose.

"If you knew, then why did you do it? Why didn't you just help me? You didn't need to carry me," I scolded playfully.

"And turn down the opportunity to hold you in my arms?" He grinned mischievously. "Never."

"Good answer." My eyes locked with his, and I saw myself reflected in their depths.

"Honest answer," he replied. After a moment his grin gave away to a questioning stare. "When did you begin to remember?"

"Only a few moments ago," I answered.

"Ahh, thus the swooning."

"Yes, thus the swooning."

"What about me? Do you remember me at all?" Amelia asked as she came over to us.

"Yes! Everything, even hiding behind that wretched plant so we could spy on Lord Heath." I giggled as Amelia blushed profusely.

"Yes, well…" she began before rolling her eyes in an unladylike fashion.

"Well at least now I won't have to constantly watch out for you at the parties," she remarked, baiting me.

"I was not that bad," I retorted cheekily.

"Yes. Yes, you were," she replied.

"Fine. I'm no longer your burden to bear." I stuck my nose in the air before I turned to Morgan. "I'm his." I pointed to his chest and pushed him slightly, teasing him. He grabbed my finger and pulled me closer to him, wrapping his hands around my waist as Amelia cleared her throat and glanced away.

"Yes, you most certainly are mine."