My hands, in the process of gently stroking the soft silk still feeling like I’m getting away with something illicit by touching history, clench into it at the news.“I’m going to wear the dress of a princess?”I whisper the question.
“You already are,” Anne whispers back to me, eyes dipping down to the dress I’m wearing.
I gasp and clutch the cloth already on me, abandoning the gorgeous dress in front of me.This is a bit more than a historian getting to just see history; I’m literally clothed in it.I give it a discreet sniff to find out if royals smell better than the rest of us.It’s just kind of musty, so Louise must not have worn it in a while.
“And they’re last season’s clothes, so the princess won’t be needing them again,” Anne says.
Of course.The princess wouldn’t be an outfit repeater.
Anne gets me ready for the evening without me fangirling over any more of the items around me.At least on the outside.The only thing that would make this better is being able to document this visually, but cameras can’t fit in these tiny Victorian beaded purses just yet.
Anne leads me down to the drawing room before dinner, a smaller event with Victoria and some aristocracy I barely get introduced to.Victoria assures me with a twinkle in her eyes that Leo is coming to the assembly itself later.
“Like I even care,” I mumble when Victoria has safely looked away and is talking to someone else.I feel like I need to put out into the world that I amnotinterested in the spoiled man.
Or maybe I need to tell myself.
Aside from Victoria’s short aside, no one thinks I’m important enough to talk to, which I’ll take since I don’t have to answer any awkward or dangerous questions like where I’m from or my name.They do think I’m interesting enough to openly stare at like I’m a museum piece.Like I’m a painting and don’t feel discomfort at the intense scrutiny.Like they’re entitled to watch me openly.And I don’t want to draw attention to myself so I swallow down the discomfort and silently stare at the antique rug in front of me.
It's thick, with an intricate pattern of intertwined flowers organized around geometric shapes.The bright reds tie into the upholstery of the chairs and couches in this room, but that’s all I can see from studiously looking down.The historian in me wants to look up and investigate the room more, but I don’t need to make eye contact with anyone here or draw any more of their attention.
The butler announces dinner, and a well-dressed man in a tuxedo I don’t know approaches to walk me into dining room.As if I would get lost going across the elegantly decorated hall.But the British do love any opportunity to reinforce social hierarchy, even for the ridiculously short walk from one room to another.
Conversation flows around me but not to me, and I take the time to brainstorm ways to get home in my head.Maybe someone in London knows how to time travel?If they do, they’re great at keeping it secret from everyone else.
I also take the time to look at Victoria.I don’t see the same woman who talked to me, Leo and Abdul.This woman is showing every one of her years.Tired and bored with everyone around her.And a little sad.
But then she turns to me and Abdul, face lighting up.“I have a curry coming.We usually have them for lunch daily, but I thought you would like to eat it more often.A taste of home while you are so far away.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”I mean, since my parents are Punjabi, they make dals and sabjis and the always delicious and similarly named kadhi, while curry is actually a British dish that is meant to westernize northern Indian food in general.But sure, taste of home.
It’s extra ironic that since I moved out of my parents’ home, the taste of home is whatever takeout place is most convenient between the university and my apartment.
After a meal so rich Leo would marry it, Victoria leads us to the ball room.Just like she promised, Leo is already waiting for us in the same Durbar room from yesterday, his elegant tuxedo creating sleek lines that make him look good.
“Good evening,” I say with a genuine smile.This dinner has proven him right; getting along with all these people, and their judgmental, openly curious, and sometimes hostile stares, is easier with him near.I almost give him a hug, an action I would have taken if I had a fake suitor in my time.But these are Victorian times.Where we are suppressing our immoral tendencies.
“Good evening.”Leo takes my hand and bows over it.“Our plan seems to be working.Multiple women have accepted dances with me tonight.But I saved the best ones for you, of course.And when everyone heard I was invited on the royal yacht to go back to London tomorrow, multiple mothers suggested they would be amenable to me calling on their daughters when we are back in town.”
“That’s great.”I dim in excitement, remembering that Leo is using me to get at other women.It’s fine; I know about it in advance and I’m using him too.I need to remember this is a transaction and I have no right to be disappointed when he mentions other women.“Who’s in our sights tonight?”
“Railroad money is most likely out of my league even with the Queen’s association.So Miss Ogborn is the most promising candidate.”
“Tell me about her.Or tell me about her money, if we’re getting to the good stuff right away.”
Leo walks me around the ballroom, the faint strains of the orchestra starting up their music as couples slowly make their way to the dance floor.“And it is ‘good stuff.’Her father was a merchant who worked his way up in the ranks of the East India Com?—”
“No.”I try to snatch my arm back, but Leo has a firm grasp on it.
“What’s the matter?”
“If you want to marry an heiress whose family has engaged in exploitative economic policies and outright colonialism toward your and my ancestral country, as well as all the racism, you can do that without my help.”
“Ah.”Leo looks right and left, not sure how to handle this.“You know the British Empire rules India now?Instead of the East India Company?”
“I’m trying to forget it because I haven’t figured out any other options yet.But actual East India Company members are a bit too far for me to accept.”If anything, I’m engaging in fraud against the Empress of India to get things from her, so from a moral standpoint, I think I’m good.But either way, I won’t actively help one of them get a title with their money.
“You know I could have money from the East India Company,” Leo says.
