Leo is right about the trip being short, and I’m grateful to be back on land since my stomach never got used to the sea.The rest of the trip has us in a royal train, which is like a regular train but much more expensive to build, with furniture upholstered in the same cobalt blue of the yacht, thick carpet covering the floor and enough furniture and decorative arts to fill an entire sale at an auction house in my time.
I end up in the train lounge with Leo, Anne, and Abdul, who thankfully doesn’t go out of his way to find out more about his fellow country-person.Mostly, he wants to talk about himself.It’s a nice break from the rest of the household, who send me hostile looks or aggressive questions whenever I exist near them.
Lucky for me Victoria has decided she likes having me around, and all the cold shoulders from the household can’t take away from the fact that the monarch is throwing her warmth and protection over me.It makes my feelings about her even more complicated than they were before I met her.
She has genuine interest and affection for everything Indian, but it’s always a little condescending, and her empire is exploiting the country.An exploitation whose effects will still be there in my time.And the racism that intensified during the period of the British Raj in order to justify the colonization is a whole different issue.
Not that Victoria even has that much power now, since the power of the monarch has been slowly decreasing through her reign and Parliament is really responsible for a lot of the policies that are negatively affecting India.
Finally, I’m shuffled into a horse-drawn carriage for the last leg of travel, like I’ve just doneThe Amazing Racebut in Victorian times.And as a rest stop, I end up at Buckingham Palace.
“I hope I can call on you tomorrow?”Leo asks.
“Our plan won’t work unless we’re seen out and about.”Even though he’s been a nice distraction, I need to find a way home, and I can’t exactly go around asking about time travel with him in tow.
But I can’t exactly alienate an ally here either.So I grit my teeth and smile at him, part of me still giddy at the thought of more time with him, and another part hoping he gets distracted by an heiress and forgets me.
And then another part disappointed at the thought of him with an heiress instead of spending time with me.
All adding up to a very confused me.
“Excellent.I look forward to seeing you.”
But despite us having concluded all the business we could have, Leo stays where he is.So I get to burn this picture into my memory, of Leo, dressed in his complicated suit, standing in front of the entrance to Buckingham Palace.Looking at me.
Looking like a damn romance novel cover model.Or someone in my history books.Either way, I’m turned on.
But just like a picture in a book, he’s not for me.I can’t trust him with the truth, and one slip up could lead to him exposing me to the others.Maybe he would even get more credibility if he revealed me as an imposter, and no one will believe me when I say he’s in on it, because I’m the foreigner.I’m not going to test it, either way.I need to focus on getting back home (primary goal) and soaking in as much history as I can before I leave (secondary goal).
A wild affair with a British aristocrat isnoton that list.
So I force myself to nod, turn away, and not look back as Anne leads me inside the palace, who is probably satisfied that Leo didn’t ruin me on the journey over.
She’s twelve years too late, and simultaneously a hundred and eighteen years too early, to guard my virtue.But I appreciate the thought.
I walk into Buckingham Palace, trying to prepare myself for the sight.I’ve studied it, in theory.And even visited the modern building.But like Osborne House, everything is different and despite generally knowing the floorplan, I would be lost without Anne leading me.
She takes me to an exquisite room, but all I can see is the giant four-poster bed with curtains hanging off each side, pulled back to make an inviting bed fort I want to spend all day reading in.Or as tired as I am, just have the best sleep of my life in.The gleaming neoclassical desk, the Louis XIV chairs and matching couch, the plush rugs that are so thick my feet are sinking in with every step I take, and the flickering candles nestled in wall sconces reflecting off a giant mirror hung over a fireplace all get ignored for the splendor of that bed.
After time travel, two balls, not knowing where I would sleep, wandering through historic buildings and trying every form of Victorian transportation except early cars, I’m exhausted and I’m going to collapse.Anne helps me take off layers of clothing but puts a few more back on for good measure.
After letting her know I want to skip dinner, I sink into the covers as she pulls the thick window curtains closed, the room slowing turning dark.I fall asleep before the last of the light can leave the room.
* * *
“Ma’am you have a caller.”
“Hmm.”I raise my head slowly and look around.Nope, no chance this was all a dream and I’m back to real life, despite how much I wish I was home.The physical proof of that is right under me, where I drooled on Queen Victoria’s fine pillows.
And how many historians get to say that?
But just in case anyone eventually DNA tests these, I try to wipe up the drool as best as I can.Preferably without Anne seeing what I’m doing.
“Who would call on me?”
“The Marquess of Basildon.”
That gets me up and moving.“Leo’s here?To see me?Do I have anything to wear?”Not just a question that anyone asks before they see someone hot and wonder if anything they have is appealing; a literal question I’m asking because I’m a royal squatter.
