Living London

chapter Two



Packing up Nanna's belongings was even more difficult than enduring her funeral. Each piece of furniture had a memory, each quilt a story, and every book was a piece of the rarest treasure to me. As I picked up her recent favorite, The Redemption of Lord Rawlings by Rachel Van Dyken, I opened up the first page. Closing my eyes, I remembered reading in Nanna's library by the fire in August a few years ago. She always said a good romance deserved a good setting. That particular book needed a roaring fire to create the perfect ambiance. At first I had thought she was having another spell, especially when I began to sweat, but when she started the second chapter I didn't feel the heat anymore. The crackle of wood and the faint smell of smoke were the perfect support to bring the story to life.

Flipping to one of my favorite scenes, I noticed the page was written over with thick black marker in Nanna's familiar handwriting. She must have written it a while ago. The steadiness of her hand had failed more than nine months before her passing. The black strokes of her penmanship caused a rueful grin to tilt my lips. For all her elegant ways, she had loved black felt-tipped markers. The bold black writing was one of the few things she could read in the last year of her life. The writing was distinct, and as I read the words her voice echoed in my mind. "Jocelyn, my dove. I miss you…" My grin faded into fresh pain as a sob broke free. I reached for a box of tissues and pulled one out just in time to catch a tear before it dropped on the page.

"I miss you, and I hate to think of you being all alone. Though you have friends, I know you'll be feeling bereft. So as my parting gift to you, I give you time. Strange as it may sound, as I came forward to find my Jakob, I'm sending you back to find yours. You have been taught well for this day. Remember what you have learned, and it will serve you. I have loved you with every heartbeat, and though my heart is silent now, in Heaven my soul awaits our blessed reunion."

The words blurred on the page, and I blinked forcing the tears to fall before continuing. "I'll be sure to have some strong hot tea, a good book, and lots of hugs for you when we finally meet again, but it won't be for some time, my dear. Until then have fun, live in joy, and never forget to keep a proper distance when you waltz. With my whole heart, Nanna."

The tissue was soaked, so I reached for another as I re-read her note. What are you talking about, Nanna? The thought of her being gone closed my throat — the pain was still so fresh and raw — but her letter was a balm. The words she'd written reminded me that we'd be together again, someday. That gave me a small measure of comfort, as if she were hugging my heart. The note captivated my curiosity, but I needed to finish packing her room. I tucked the book safely in my purse and boxed up the remaining ones to be carried to my house — the house Nanna had left to me. The final drawer I checked held Nanna's few items of jewelry she insisted remain with her. Among them was a pearl teardrop necklace she’d worn often when I was a child. With care, I picked it up and placed it over my head and around my neck, fastening the clasp. I held it out in front of me and caressed the luminescent pearl. Carefully, I took it off and placed it back in its box and packed up the other treasures.

When I finished, I took a deep breath to still the hiccupping sobs controlling me. I closed my eyes, inhaling the familiar scent that still hung in the air. The once decorated walls now glared back a sterile white, daring anyone to claim that life had been present only a short time ago. The front desk clerk gave me a sympathetic smile as I turned in the keys and signed my name.

I carried the last box to my car and drove home, exhausted. I skipped dinner and trudged up the stairs. Each step I took seemed heavy, as if I had lead weights in my shoes. Tomorrow I'd settle everything else and organize her belongings, but tonight I wanted to lose myself in the sweet abandon of sleep.

****

I glided into the ballroom, searching. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but my heart pounded with urgency. The soft swish of my sage colored silk gown seemed oddly loud compared to the din of voices resounding in the ballroom. People nodded to me, and I nodded back reflexively as I walked by. No one seemed to think of me as out of place. Strangely enough, I didn't feel out of place either.

I drank in the beauty of my surroundings — the gilded molding surrounding the ceiling, the brocaded draperies over tall windows. The people were milling about, dancing and flirting. The crowd parted and offered me a glimpse of a man in a fitted black suit. But before I could fully see his face, another man walked in front of me, blocking my view. Excusing myself, I walked around him. Quickly I searched the room, but only a moment later, I felt a warm, gloved hand cover my eyes. My breath caught in my throat.

"Surprise, Jocelyn." The distinctly masculine voice melted in my ears like warm honey.

I spun around and gazed into the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. He smiled and opened his mouth to speak.

****

Beep, beep, beep.

The alarm startled me from my dream, a dream I didn’t want to end. The annoying sound needed to be turned off, so I rolled over and reached out, fumbling till I hit the right buttons. Once it was silenced, I burrowed deeper into the blankets and pulled a pillow over my head. Sleep seemed much more promising than the day I had ahead of me, especially with dreams such as that one. As I closed my eyes, I recalled his face, his smile, the texture of his voice, deep and alluring. Wow.

Beep, beep, beep.

Ugh, I must have only hit the snooze button.

"I'm getting up, I'm getting up," I mumbled as I got out of bed and correctly turned off the annoying alarm.

The prospect of facing a day without visiting Nanna still stung. Over the last few years I'd been finishing my college courses during the day and spending time with Nanna each evening. That left little time for friends, not that I had made them easily before. High school was an experience I'd rather not repeat, or remember for that matter. College would have been easier in the social department if I had put more effort into it, but Nanna had come first, leaving little time to simply "hang out." But I wouldn't have changed anything. The time I'd spent with my grandmother was worth it. Now, with my degree finished, I could continue searching for a job in marketing. Thankfully she had left me with a large inheritance that would give me time to search for the perfect position.

With a sigh, I trudged over to my closet and selected an old Bulldogs shirt and a pair of jeans. With all the sorting of Nanna’s clothes and such, I’d just be getting sweaty and dirty carrying things to the attic or to the donation center. Nothing about the day enticed me. I'd only set my alarm for motivational purposes in dragging my rump from bed. The path to the bathroom was treacherous. I had stacked boxes in the hall when the living room filled and now I was skirting past teetering pillars of books, magazines and cardboard. My pink slipper caught the edge of a stack of magazines and sent the pile scattering. With a frustrated groan, I ignored the mess and stepped over the final box and into the bathroom.

Once safely there I studied myself in the mirror. My thick honey-blonde hair was a tangled mess that ran down my shoulders and to my mid-back. With ruthless tugs, I ran my brush through and proceeded to pull it back into a ponytail. I brushed my teeth and then glared at my makeup on the counter. All the crying from yesterday had given me puffy eyes, and no amount of makeup would hide them. After a quick mental debate I grabbed my mascara, applied it and nodded at my reflection when finished. Not my best, but better than nothing. Carefully, I stepped into the hall.

As I went down the stairs, I instinctively skipped the second step, which creaked loudly, and headed to the kitchen. After coffee—blissful coffee —I grabbed a bagel and went into the living room to sort.

Halfway through the day, I glanced around the room at the chaotic mess. The extra boxes were already used up and packed in the back of my car, yet I still had numerous piles of clothes, shoes, books and nick-knacks that remained to be stored or donated. Only small patches of the pale blue carpet were visible under the mess. With a dubious glance to the stairs, I paused and closed my eyes, hating my next task. The extra boxes I needed were in the attic, the very place I avoided at all costs. Visions of hairy spiders and old webs made me shiver and goosebump.

After a moment, I rose up off my knees. They ached in protest at my change in position and I paused, waiting for them to support my weight. I stepped over a pile of shoes and made my way to the stairs.

On the second floor I passed my room, Nanna's old room, and then the bathroom, till I reached the linen closet. I reached up and grabbed the rope that pulled down the ladder into the attic.

I took a step backwards so I wouldn't get knocked out and waited for the ladder to slide to the floor. The wooden rungs of the ladder creaked as I began to climb. As I slowly ascended, my eyes darted about, checking every shadow. I waved my hand in front of me to displace any cobwebs, and my skin crawled as I felt one stick to my finger. I jolted my hand back and wiped it on my shirt. A deep fortifying breath later, I stepped onto the landing and searched the rafters for lurking eight-legged enemies. When none were spotted, I relaxed slightly and slowly made my way to the corner where the extra boxes sat. I grabbed one and flipped it over, searching for movement. After I had repeated the process for the entire stack, I tossed them down to the hallway below.

Dusting my hands, I looked around at the upper room. Dim sunlight came through the dirty window. My recent movement had caused a whirlwind of dust motes to dance in the light. Their graceful movements stole my attention for a moment. I turned watching them and an old trunk caught my eye.

I walked over to where it rested, placed my hands over the canvas-covered wood, and lifted the latches. Inside was a beautiful ball gown, probably one of Nanna's old ones. But I didn't remember her ever wearing it during our pretend balls. It must have been really special or maybe just forgotten. When I pulled it out, I gasped in recognition. I had seen this gown before, not on Nanna, but on me. It was the gown from my dream. The pale sage-green silk shimmered in the light as I ran my fingers over its softness. I also found gloves and a peacock-feather headband in the trunk, along with a small note.

For Jocelyn, with love, Nanna.

I carried the dress, accessories, and note down the ladder and went into my room to get a better look. It was even more beautiful than it had seemed in my dream. I wanted to try it on, but I didn't dare yet. I was too sweaty and dusty from sorting through everything. Carefully I laid it on my bed in anticipation of trying it on later, once I was clean.

With newfound motivation to finish, I ran downstairs with the boxes and got to work. After delivering a load of boxes to the local thrift store, I stopped by my favorite Greek restaurant for takeout and ate alone in the kitchen. I tossed the wrapper away and grabbed my cell as I headed to the stairs. The promise of a shower quickened my steps. I couldn't wait to be free of the dust that had accumulated on my skin.

As I put on my bare essentials, I walked over to the bed and ran my fingers over the gown. I picked up the dress and pulled it over my head, finding a great deal of difficulty in fastening the buttons on the back. Once I had managed to hold the dress in place, I picked up the gloves and put them on. Belatedly, I realized that if I wanted to wear the peacock headband I'd need to take down my hair from the sloppy ponytail. So off came the gloves once again, and I pinned my hair into a soft bun at the nape of my neck.

Then I placed the feathered band on my head and gasped at the beautiful way it accented the colors in my dress. I pulled on the kid gloves once more. Gazing into the mirror, I twisted slowly, examining the perfect fit. The whole outfit was beyond beautiful, and I wished I had a place to wear it. Closing my eyes, I remembered my dream and the blue eyes and honeyed voice of the handsome stranger…

****

"Miss? Miss, are you all right? Can you hear me?" A man's strangely British voice sliced through my blissful state of darkness.

Through a thick fog of sleep, I began to stir, but my body was reluctant to fully wake. After a moment, I heard the same man speak again. Awareness began to seep through me, and I noticed the tickle of grass on my arms and the shuffling of feet nearby.

"Miss? Dannberry, I think I saw her stir! Do you think she's alive?"

"Of course she's alive! She's breathing. But you might have addled her wits with your insane driving. Didn't I tell you to go slowly? Far too many people out at this ungodly hour."

Cold fabric wiped my face, and I opened my eyes slowly, unable to focus for a moment. Finally my gaze settled on an older man's face.

"Miss, can you speak at all?" the man asked in a crisp British accent.

Slowly my wits came back, and I studied his features, noticing his hat and odd hairstyle. His sideburns were long and overgrown. He'd desperately tried to hide his balding forehead with a few curls. Aside from his odd style, though, his eyes were kind and full of concern. He reminded me of my grandfather for some reason — probably his age — and so I found my voice.

"Yes, I'm all right, I think. What happened?"

The older gentleman exchanged a look with the second man I'd just noticed. "American, eh?" His smile was genuine, and his eyes were similar to the first man's. I assumed that they were brothers.

"What's a colonial like you doing here in London at this time? Here for the Season, I wager."

"Hush, Dannberry. Let the poor gel gather her wits a bit more."

London? No… I lived in Washington. My confusion must have registered on my face.

"Don't worry about Dannberry there. He's the crazy one. And he's the reason you're flat on your back with a spooked horse somewhere. We didn't see you fall, but my brother here was trying out his new horseflesh and wasn't paying attention to the road. We almost ran you over. We're assuming you fell from your horse when it spooked from my brother's curricle barreling down the lane. What's your name, miss?"

"Jocelyn," I managed, trying to figure out why I'd be riding a horse in the first place. And then, belatedly, why these men had been riding in a curricle at all. What was going on? And why did they think we were in London of all places?

"Oh, miss, we wouldn't call you by your Christian name. What's your last name, dearie?"

"Westin."

Both of their eyes widened in shock. "You're Jocelyn Westin?" the first one clarified.

"Yes." I drew out the word.

After an exchanged look, they quickly stepped back, and the second one began to pummel his brother with his gloves. "Idiot! Fool! They'll have our hides! Westin! You almost bloo—" He glanced at me and didn't finish his word. With a disgusted snort, he turned again to his brother. "You could have killed a Westin!"

"Excuse me," I said, trying to stop the violence. If I weren't so bewildered, I would have laughed. To see a grandfather try to whip another with his gloves was amusing. "I seem to be a bit confused. Could you answer some questions for me, please?"

"Noddcock, idiot…" he mumbled before turning his attention to me. "Sorry, Miss Westin, how can I be of service?" As he spoke, Dannberry got up from his crouch and dusted himself off warily, watching his brother.

"Yes, well, if you could help me up, I'd be very thankful." Turning white, the man quickly reached over and helped me stand.

"I'm so sorry, miss. I didn't want to have you move in case you were injured."

"Of course, thank you." With careful movements I stood. When I straightened my posture, I realized I didn't feel like I'd fallen off a horse. I actually felt fine. I reached down to dust myself off and noticed I wasn't wearing my usual jeans and T-shirt, but the dress I had found in the attic, with the matching gloves. Slowly I reached up to touch my hair and found no ponytail, but the same messy bun I had hastily thrown together…along with a peacock feather headband.

What in the world is going on? I lifted my skirt to check out my footwear and noticed the two Dannberry brothers studiously avoided looking at my ankles. A cold chill went down my spine.

"What year is it?" I heard myself whisper, unable to make my voice louder.

Dannberry gave his brother a strange look, but answered politely. "Eighteen-fourteen, Miss Westin, in the lovely month of May."

With a gasp, I felt everything click in my brain — Nanna's letter, her words, and my dress. London. It was all too much. The world spun, and I heard another man's voice, this one younger and smoother, calling my name with concern evident in his tone. Strong arms enveloped me as the world suddenly turned black.