Down the Rabbit Hole

“In this day and age, who can say?” She looked around the room and leaned closer to him, not quite whispering. “Another thing I noticed is that women are out and about on their own. Not a maid or footman in sight. Do you think it is safe?” She leaned back and answered her own question. “Of course it is or they would not do it.”


Arbuckle came to the table with two cups and returned to gather a third. They were not proper cups but made of some kind of fortified paper. The smell emanating from them was comforting and familiar.

Arbuckle placed packets on the table and told them it was sugar, which they were welcome to add to the coffee.

Weston tasted it first, and his eyes widened in surprise. “This is the most amazing coffee I have ever tasted. Where is it from?”

Arbuckle looked relieved. “It is the standard Starbucks blend. Some people think it too strong.”

“It’s wonderful,” Weston said as he took another taste.

Alice reached for some sugar.

“Aha,” Weston said. “I knew you would add some. Your taste for sweet things has come forward two hundred years with you.”

“And you brought your superiority with you, as well.”

He recognized this tendency Alice had to criticize him as a strategy to encourage a distance she wanted and he did not. He knew from past experience that when she was honest with herself and with him that her words were completely different.

They drank in silence for a few minutes, observing the chaos around them.

One couple was having an intense low-voiced discussion at a table next to them. Two others at different tables were reading something on a device in front of them and then tapping wildly with their fingers, one occasionally stopping to run his hand through his hair. They seemed oblivious to the line of people waiting for service or the loud voices of the waitresses calling out the items that were ready.

“Is there a way to copy this business?” He had not intended to speak aloud, but once said, it could not be called back.





CHAPTER FIVE




“Weston, why would you want to copy this business when there are already dozens of coffeehouses in London alone?” Alice said. “And surely you would not go into trade! Apart from that shocking idea, what does this Starbucks offer that is not already available, besides wonderful coffee and good lighting? Neither of which we can bring back with us without altering the continuity of time.”

“The space-time continuum,” he corrected. Weston turned to Arbuckle. “And what is the space-time continuum?”

“I’m afraid I have no idea.” Arbuckle looked profoundly apologetic. “All I know is the magic coin enabled Miss Amy and Mr. West to travel to your home and for you to travel here.”

“Exactly what is this magic coin?” Weston asked. “You mentioned it before when I was less inclined to believe you.”

“Sir, I can tell you all I know in a few sentences. A shipment of coins bound for India was lost when the ship sank just off the Goodwin Sands in 1810. The ship was found by treasure hunters in 1987, and among the coins was one that was different from all the rest. It grants wishes.”

“Do you have proof?” Weston asked.

“It does sound rather like a grown-up fairy tale, Mr. Arbuckle,” Alice said with a bit more diffidence than before.

“Yes, it does, miss, and yes, my lord, I have proof. I have seen the coin grant wishes time and again.”

“I will take your word, for the moment, but now I want to know how you knew the coin needed to travel back into the early nineteenth century. Indeed, to before it was even minted.”

“Ah, my lord, because the coin had to be there to grant the wishes that are the heart of its mission. I was more than relieved when Miss Amy and Mr. West were willing to take it. I worried about how the coin would travel through time ever since I saw it in your portrait when it was loaned to a special exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery.”

“I fear this is beginning to sound like nonsense again,” Weston said.

“Really, Wes, why do you say that?” Alice asked, her head tilted to one side in a gesture of challenge he recognized. “Is it any more fantastical than the two of us skipping ahead two hundred years?”