Still, Toni had hidden her e-reader in a case that, at a glance, looked like an antique book. It felt oddly Victorian, despite the anachronism of it. The Victorian era was built upon being one thing on the outside but another thing entirely on the inside. Modern people—aside from history aficionados—thought of the Victorians as prim and proper. On the outside, that was true, but the paper she was intending on presenting next week was a discussion of all the ways the middle-class and upper-class Victorians were incredibly debauched.
Toni’s thoughts drifted back to the contradiction that was Adelaine Stewart, innocence and bluntness, sex and sweetness.She reallyis perfect for m—the character,Toni corrected mid-thought.Addie is perfect for portraying my character.
Sex, money, and power: Addie could ooze them. She could draw every eye in a room, and she acted like she didn’t notice. She was remarkably Victorian. Such grace and confidence being a part of her success wasn’t all that different from the modern era.
Unlike me.
What most people knew—and what Toni had written about so far—was the upper crust, and despite the book-sale royalties that Emily had said to expect, one successful book wasn’t going to turn a tattooed, suit coat loving, lesbian history professor into aristocracy. Her tailored suit would not have been the sort of thing that a woman like her would have been allowed to wear as a Victorian woman. Womendidwear pantalets and bloomers in the Victorian era, but not at the sort of event that Cape Dove Manor was mimicking. Trousers weren’t evenlegalfor women in the States until the 1920s.
Addie will be dressed like the sort of woman the character is: feminine and innocent on the outside and ripe for debauchery under those elegant skirts.
For all that Toni loved history, she never forgot that the rights that she had as a lesbian in the present were far superior to the ones she’d have had in her beloved Victorian era. And that was part of what Emily couldn’t quite understand about Toni’s resistance to this immersion weekend: it was one thing to study the era, to fictitiously represent it, but to go to this event meant facing attendees who would be faux-scandalized by a lady in trousers—or perhaps they would be legitimately offended and take the historical excuse to voice that outrage.
Let them be scandalized.
Toni wasn’t about to forsake modernity for anyone’s comfort. At the end of Sunday’s dinner and dancing, Toni would leave the Victorian dress and manners behind. She’d go home. Her biggest joy at being at the weekend was that, while she was there, she’d hopefully findtemporary love in the arms of a willing woman. She would not, however, forget that in therealVictorian era, she’d likely be forced to wear a dress and marry a man.
A few hours later, the driver brought Toni from the airport to the end of the drive at Cape Dove. “Miz Darbyshire, I apologize, but they don’t allow anything of ‘this era’ to enter their grounds. I have to stay outside the grounds with the car.”
He pulled the town car up to a group of horse-drawn carriages, all in bright colors and excellent condition. To the left were a clarence carriage and a brougham. Both were glass-fronted, enclosed carriages, but the larger clarence would allow four guests to ride while the brougham was a one-horse, two-guest carriage. Beside the brougham was a landau, a versatile four-person carriage that could be enclosed or open-air. The landau was folded down, but in need, the two-part hood would fold up to protect any guests from the weather. Behind those were a pair of hansom cabs, two-person carriages with the driver in the back.
The one that caught Toni’s eye, however, was the phaeton. Open-air, designed for a single driver or a driver and passenger, and typically an excuse to show off the finest of your horses. If money were no option, Toni would have a reproduction phaeton and pair of horses worthy of it. It was also one of the only ones with no horses at the ready.
The town-car driver came around to open her door, but Toni was already out and taking in the small crowd in the gravel lot. The driver closed her door and offered to take her carry-on and hatbox.
“Thank you.” Toni always felt a little foolish handing her things over; it was quite the step to go from broke-ass grad student to having people try to do things for her. On the day-to-day, she opened her own doors and carried her own things, so these random one-offs still seemed unnecessarily awkward.
On the other hand, in this moment she wanted to study thecarriages waiting there in front of her. It wasn’tquiteauthentic to have all of them parked here waiting, but it was close enough that most guests would be charmed.I’m charmed,she admitted to herself.
The Cape Dove carriage driver was already loading her very modern bag into one of the hansom cabs.At least they didn’t require historical luggage!The line between studying history and wanting to live in it wasn’t one Toni often crossed.
She looked longingly at the phaeton. That, however, could be an exception. She wanted todriveit, not sit idly at the driver’s side. Instead, she walked over to the hansom cab.
The carriage driver offered her a hand to steady herself as she climbed into the carriage, and this time, she accepted. Getting in and out of cars? That was easy enough, but carriages weren’t always as steady, what with the live animals at the front and the significant step up into the carriage.
“I’ll need to take you round back, miss. The back stairs are for those not already dressed for the event.”
“That’s fine.” Toni looked out at the few other early guests on the ground, searching for one particular woman, but also enjoying the rainbow effect of the women in Victorian dress. What modern people would consider garish colors were popular in the 1800s. While the 1840s had muted hues, those were followed by a rainbow of vibrant shades including oranges, red-violet, crimsons, emerald, and even iridescent dresses. Decorations were as varied as bows and ostrich feathers, beads and tassels, ribbons and lace. While none of it was Toni’s taste in clothes to wear, she certainly appreciated the rainbows of beauty that such a wide swath of time offered.
Several clutches of women were already in period dress, complete with hats with sumptuous feathers. The event allowed 1845 to 1899 dress, so there would be considerable variety, and as a writer and historian, there was something lovely about seeing it—though she’d typically rather see it via streaming video. Distant observer, that was the historian’s way. If Toni wanted to immerse herself within a group, she’d have been an anthropologist.
Still, Toni took it all in as the hansom cab carried her toward the rather impressive manor. She’d read enough to know that Cape Dove wasn’tstrictlyhistorically accurate. It was a reproduction of a Victorian country manor, initially built in the Gilded Age by one of the ostentatiously wealthy men who dominated that era, but in recent years, it had been fitted with modern plumbing and, most likely, a very modern kitchen. The lights and heat were visibly crafted to still look historical, but the house had the benefit of modern electricity, too. In all, it was as Victorian in spirit as most Victorians had been in that the current façade was quite a bit removed from the truth.
The manor house was better suited for a bed-and-breakfast or hotel than the home for one couple, as it initially had been. Enormous pillars, looking like they belonged on a Grecian temple, sat in front of the house like a statement of arrogant excess. A structured garden outlined an oversized fountain, and a round drive snaked between fountain and house. The entire scene looked like it could’ve been lifted from Toni’s book.
The driver drove the carriage down the long gravel drive, slowing briefly as they crossed directly in front of the enormous house. The house itself had that Vanderbilt Gilded Age feel to it—complete with towering stone arches over the front windows and more architectural excess on the second level. She could picture this as a setting for her series.
Then he drove around the back. He stopped at what looked like a servants’ entrance. Massive azaleas framed the steps to the door.
“It’s beautiful, innit?” the driver prompted as he helped her down, clearly expecting a level of gushing that wasn’t that far off from Toni’s thoughts. She was, of course, a historian, and most of history was museums and documents—not actual costume events and carriages that were able to be touched. She’d have to apologize to Emily. There was a distinct possibility Toni might actually enjoy this far more than she expected. The idea of physically walking through history always left her contemplative.
If only there weren’t all the people!
“Very beautiful,” Toni admitted. “Obviously, the owners take care to create the illusion of stepping back in time.”
“That they do, miss. That they do. The inside is even more lovely.”
“And the carriages…” Toni shook her head. “What I wouldn’t give to take that phaeton out!”
