Anne comes into my room to help me dress.
“Do you have anything…not as nice?”I ask.
Anne replies with a look full of meaning.Mostly judgment, wondering why I would turn down the beauty in front of me.
Because I have places to be.Places I want to blend into.
I answer her unasked question, because I’m a people pleaser at heart.“I want to take a walk, and I’d feel bad if I got dirt on the princess’s clothes.”
That reduces the judgement.“But miss, you have a lot of callers.Maybe we can put on one of the nicer dresses first, and later I can find something for you to walk around in?”
“I’m sorry.Callers?More than one?”
“Many more than one.”
“What is going on?”The plan might be workingtoowell if people feel the need to visit me.Unless callers is a ruse, and it’s people coming to arrest me.
“Everyone is excited to meet you, miss.What with you stayin’ with Her Majesty, and…”
Being more exotic than a box of chai.Yeah, she doesn’t need to finish that one for me; I can get there myself.And it won’t help to piss anyone off, at least not at this stage.
Unless that person is Charles.Seriously, fuck that guy.
But I do look out the window to gaze longingly at the trees and sigh, thwarted again from my plan to find a way home by this gilded cage I’m trapped in.
“Let’s do your plan.”I let Anne work her magic, my own fairy godmother transforming me into a respectable Victorian lady.She’s very good at it and doesn’t comment at all when I get giddy at being able to touch the items she brings forward.
Like the shoes.Not only are there no gloves between me and the material, but I also get to put my feet in them!And then walk around in them!A historian’s dream.Minus being trapped in the past and in danger of being found out every second.And my period will happen at some point, and I would prefer not to experience diaper-like belt contraptions or rudimentary tampons.
Even this historian has a line on how real she wants to get in the name of research.
I follow Anne down the stairs and into the drawing room, where a small crowd of people are waiting to chat with me, all in various states of getting tea from a tray or drinking said tea.
“Good morning,” I say tentatively.A sea of feathered and floral hats turns toward me as one, letting me know all my visitors are women today.I stifle my disappointment that Leo isn’t here.He isn’t actually courting me; he’s allowed to sleep in.“It’s so nice to see you all,” I say, despite me wishing they would all go away so I could get shit done.
The seven people in the room all start talking at once, giving me a headache from trying to figure out who I should be paying attention too.Probably the one with the biggest, oldest title is the one I need to make sure is on my side.
Where’s a copy ofDebrett’s Peerage & Baronetagewhen you need it?Even if it would be considered tacky to read it on front of said titles.
“Excuse me.”I step around long skirts and feet on my way to get my own cup of tea.
I really need something to focus on while they eye me like I’m prey, and they haven’t eaten for a while.
“Your bustle is so big.It’s not in this season’s style,” one woman says after the introductions.
“Her Majestygave me these clothes.So, if it’s good enough for Her Majesty, it’s good enough for me.”I smile with all my teeth at the woman trying to shame me for not having taste.
“What’s India like?”another asks me.
They’re all looking towards me still, so many faces, with various levels of interest; some hostile, some curious; most in between.
“Hot.Sometimes rainy and hot.The food is good.With like spices and stuff.Um.There’s nice architecture.Lots of domes and sculptural reliefs.A lot of monkeys.And cows.”I try to remember my last trip to India, which was when I was in high school.Mom’s been wanting to go back, especially during Diwali or maybe Holi, but there never seems to be any time.Also, it is very difficult to distill an entire country into a succinct answer.“Lots of interesting history.The first civilization with a plumbing system.”
The women continue to grill me like a prosecutor in a highly publicized murder trial.I can feel the handcuffs tightening around my wrists with all of their questions, but then they finally get bored and leave.
None of them yelled “fraud” at me, and I only wanted to punch one of them when she smugly told me about her uncle in the military who was stationed in India.Instead, I ground out a “Good for him” through clenched teeth and a hint of a snarl.
But now they’re finally gone.I run back up the stairs to my room, then freeze when I realize that I can’t get undressed without help.Anne, a paragon of maids, appears before I can frustrated cry at my lack of ability to be independent.
