Down the Rabbit Hole

Mr. Arbuckle shrugged. “They will think of something.”


“It will be a challenge to see if we can discover what it is they chose to bring with them.” Alice’s smile hinted that yet another adventure awaited them.

“Indeed,” Weston agreed, though he would agree to almost anything when she smiled at him like that. His smile must have been too suggestive, since Alice turned from him and picked up the nearest book, obviously only pretending interest in it. The book was a large volume called The Annotated Pride and Prejudice.

He stepped closer as though he wished to look at it with her, when all he really wanted was to inhale the lovely vanilla and rose scent she favored.

Alice dropped the book and moved to the other side of the table, clearly more upset than charmed by his nearness.

In the name of all that was holy, he did not know if his presence was welcome or not. Did she really want nothing more to do with him? If so, why had she been at Westmoreland in the first place?





CHAPTER FOUR




Arbuckle must have sensed the tension, because he announced in a too-cheerful voice, “I think you will be happy to know that Miss Austen’s works still sell very well.”

“Miss Austen?” Alice asked, grabbing on to the conversational gambit as if it were a lifeline.

“Jane Austen,” Arbuckle elaborated, “the author of Pride and Prejudice, the book you picked up.”

Weston was as much at sea as Alice. He had never heard of an author by that name. “A female author? Most likely she wrote gothic novels, the kind of books in which I have no interest.”

“Oh, Weston, do not act so superior, as if you never have read Defoe’s satires.”

Arbuckle picked up the copy of Pride and Prejudice and opened it to the front page. “My apologies. Pride and Prejudice was not published until 1813. It seems you have a treat waiting for you. I do believe at first she wrote anonymously, but the Prince Regent greatly admired her work, and eventually she became known to the public.”

“The Prince Regent? What happened to King George III?” Weston felt some concern. A regent meant the king was still alive but incapacitated in some way. “Did his brain fever return, or did another would-be assassin come too close to success? When and for how long?”

Arbuckle waved his hands as if trying to make Weston’s questions disappear. “Oh dear, oh dear. I know you cannot change history, as this event was always meant to happen, but I don’t know how much we should discuss or if I must watch my words.”

Sensing his real distress, Weston nodded. “I will not press you. The king has been ill several times. For the moment I will assume it is another one of those occurrences.” Mentally, he decided he would find a history of the last two hundred years and inform himself.

That thought was the launching point for an idea that could make this time travel worthwhile. But this was hardly the place to discuss it, for it would, no doubt, upset Mr. Arbuckle even more.

“Since we cannot purchase anything here I suggest that we leave and find a coffeehouse, Mr. Arbuckle,” Weston suggested.

“A coffee shop?” Arbuckle repeated and then smiled. “An excellent idea.”

Weston took Alice’s arm and was relieved when she did not pull away.

“Yes indeed.” Alice laughed. “My head is filled with questions. Everything from wanting to know when did women begin to dress like men, and why did men not choose to dress like women? And what diseases have been cured? How long do most people live?” She shook her head. “My list is endless.”

Weston was glad to see that Alice’s spirit of adventure had come through time with her. He’d always thought her imagination one of her most appealing assets. It was pure joy to see her flourish here.