The Time Baroness (The Time Mistress Series)
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Authors: Georgina Young-Ellis
The Time Baroness
by Georgina Young Ellis
© Copyright 2011
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by any process without written permission from the copyright holder.
Published by Leaping Tall Buildings Productions LLC
ISBN 978-0-9833909-3-0
1% of all profits from the sale of this book are donated to the
World Food Programme
and/or
Heifer International
Kindle Edition
This book is available in print at most online retailers.
The Time Baroness
is dedicated to Jonathan, Joshua, my parents, my two
sisters and my brother, my nieces, nephews and extended family. I adore you.
The Time Baroness
:
Pat and Bill Josh Young
, Susan Young-Freeman, Juliana Young,
Bill Talen
,
Tara Hein-Phillips
,
Susan Izatt
, Teresa Barile, Eric Johnsen, and
Barbara Silkstone
, all of whom offered me such encouragement, helpful critiques and edits. I’d especially like to thank my wonderful friend and editor, Kathlyn McGreevy, for helping to mold and shape
The Time Baroness
and for teaching me a thing or two about writing. Particular thanks to my dad, Bill Josh Young, for designing the beautiful book cover. Thanks as well to Lettie Lee and Mari Cronin of the Ann Elmo Agency in New York City for never losing faith. Special thanks to my son,
Joshua David Ellis
for being an inspiration in so many ways and primarily, thanks to my husband,
Jonathan Ellis
, reader, editor, constant support, technologically, emotionally and physically; he has continued to believe in me and my ideas and has always given me the space to live and breathe Art in an utterly creative atmosphere.
July 25, 2119—The lace tablecloth felt almost real beneath my fingers. Settings of fine china, sterling silverware and crystal goblets glimmered on the long table. I was wearing a burgundy gown in the Empire fashion
—the fabric was stiff and chafed under the arms. The waistband of my underwear was too tight. I pulled at it, hoping no-one would see. My leg itched and I couldn’t help but scratch it. I glanced at the hostess for clues about how to conduct myself in the formal setting. She was a woman several years my senior, wearing a silvery satin gown. The other guests seated around the table made small talk about the weather. One large-busted lady with pudgy hands asked me with a sneer about my journey from America. I tried to answer in the most appropriate ways, but she merely rolled her eyes and looked away. An elderly man with a hump on his back stared at me sullenly from under his bushy eyebrows without saying a word. A plain younger lady, dressed in lavender silk, snickered at my responses.
A glass of ruby wine sat before me on the table, beckoning. Though I was thirsty, I did not pick it up. Finally, a servant came from behind and ladled a greenish soup into the bowl at my place. I looked to my right. There were several spoons laid out and they all looked similar in size. I chose the one furthest from the bowl, and, after waiting for the hostess, began to eat. The soup was bland, but I was hungry and began to devour it. After a moment, I noticed the conversation had flagged and looked up to see the other guests staring at me, aghast. I dropped the spoon into my bowl and the room and the people all faded away.
I was left sitting in the black simulation room on a folding chair with a card table in front of me, on which there was a bowl of soup, and a glass of wine. Jake’s voice boomed out of the darkness.
“Cassie! What was that?”
“I was hungry.”
“It doesn’t matter! If you’re at a dinner party, you have to eat like you’re barely interested in the food. You’ve got to make conversation between delicate bites, not down the meal like a football player!”
“I’m sorry. Can we start again?”
“We’ll start from when the soup gets served.”
I repeated the dinner party simulation five times before getting every detail correct.
“Doing a little shopping, Mom?”
Cassandra Reilly looked up and regarded her son fondly as he burst into her office. Above her desk, a holographic, brown velvet gown slowly rotated.
She laughed. “Yes, this one is nice. What do you think?”
“I have no opinion,” he pushed his shaggy black hair out of his face.
“I think it will do. I shall have Shannon put it together for me and fit it, then that will make six dresses. They are quite lightweight for winter gowns; it’s a miracle, I mean,
it is
a miracle women did not freeze to death. But, then, I will be wearing a heavy cloak and winter shoes, so there will be less to pack. I shall order more in London when I get there and have them sent down to Hampshire. But how long will it take?”
James opened his mouth to offer his opinion, but Cassandra cut him off. “Probably a couple of weeks.” With a command she called up an array of shoes, gloves and bags on the display. “Women then did not have as many changes of clothes as we do now, six should be enough. Well, maybe one more for good measure.”
“Mom, don’t go crazy. Remember, you’ll also be carrying nightclothes, underwear, and God knows what else women needed back then.”
“They did not have heavy undergarments in 1820,” Cassandra stated. “No corsets or bustles—I do not think I could deal with that.”
“Yeah, but you also have to take a cosmetics case with all your potions and creams and stuff.”
“Yes, you are right. I will just be carrying my luggage from the portal exit to the White Hart Inn, but it cannot be so much that I’m not able to handle it by myself.”
“You used a contraction.”
“Pardon?”
“You said, ‘I’m’ instead of ‘I am.’”
“Oh, thank you.”
“By the way, how did the inquest go?” James’ dark eyes sparkled.
Cassandra chuckled. “It was not exactly an inquest. Just a ritual we have to go through with the Board of Trustees every year to make sure we have the funds for the next project.”
“Which hopefully will be
my
journey.”
“Yes, but you have to pick a time and place, and if you do not submit a proposal soon, you might get passed over. Suhan is next in line after you, you know.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I came in here to tell you that we’ll be ready to put Jake through the portal on January second, and as soon as he has all your details secure and he’s back, you go.”
“Excellent.” Cassandra was now examining a holographic evening shawl.
“I wish I could go with him,” James said suddenly.
She turned to him. “Why?”
“Because I want to make sure he gets everything right.”
“Oh, please, Jake is an experienced time traveler. I trust him completely.”
“Yeah, but I’m worried about you going for so long, and if I were there, at least I could be certain that he finds you the perfect house, in the perfect place—”
Cassandra flashed him a wry smile. “I have never known you to be so concerned about me. I think you just want in on the action.”
“No, that’s not true. I’m very concerned about you. You’re going to be gone a long time, and you’re going to be all on your own. I’ll be worried about you.”
“I appreciate that, sweetheart,” she said, trying not to doubt his sincerity, “but the more we just focus on getting the details of my trip right in the here and now, the better off I shall be. Speaking of which, how is the coin duplication going?”
“Slowly. I still don’t see why Jake can’t just open your account with bills. Everyone used them then, especially in such large quantities.”
“James, we have been over this. If we used bills, it would just be counterfeiting, and frankly, it would be a little harder to reproduce the look and feel of them as accurately as a gold coin, since we have almost no examples of the bills. But just like counterfeiting, introducing that many bills into the circulation that have no silver or gold to back them up would impact the economy negatively. Not hugely, and not for a while, but the last thing we want to do is cause any impact, negative or not.”
“The good old Bank of England will sure be surprised when Jake walks in with a bag full of gold. I just hope he can get it safely from the portal exit to the White Hart, and then from there to the bank.”
“It will be a challenge, but Jake can handle it. He is a strong man, and he does not have to carry many other things, like I do.”
“Too bad they didn’t have hover-luggage back then.”
“Or at least luggage with wheels. Has Jake identified a realtor?”
“Mom, I’m sure they weren’t called realtors, back then.”
“Right you are—
purveyors of property.
Thank you.
“Well, the research shows that one of the most reputable ‘purveyors of property’ was Hacket and Smith, so Jake’s going to try them first. And January’s a good time to put a house up for rent.”
“‘Let’ a house James, say ‘let.’ I have to get used to using the right words.”
“Okay, ‘let’ a house. You’re the one who has to say it, not me.”
“I am practicing.”
“I know. Anyway, everyone will be in town for ‘the season,’ as they say, including those who may have great property wealth, but little cash to speak of. It won’t be hard to find the sort of family that’s eager to let their estate, complete with furniture and all but their own personal servants for at least a year; especially if you’re willing to pay well, which you are.”
“Just like in
Persuasion,
” mused Cassandra.
“Right,” James said, rolling his eyes.
“Well, I know you do not understand, but that is the life I want to experience. I want to go, be a good little Hampshire tenant, live quietly in 1820 for a year, mingle as unobtrusively as possible in society, and just live life as closely as I can to how Jane Austen lived it. I will actually be there three years after her death; as you know, I will also be richer than she was, and I will not have my family about me like she did. I am older than she was when she died, and a widow (she never married), but I will be a single woman in more or less her class of society. I am just going to soak in Jane’s countryside, her home, her England.”
“Sounds fascinating.”
“Well, you do not have to comprehend my reasons. I am just glad you are part of the team. You know the technical aspect almost better than I do, and that makes me feel safe.”
“Could you just tell me one more time why you’re not going a few years earlier so you can meet ol’ Jane herself? I don’t get it.”
Cassandra sighed. “Because I do not want to…it is too…” She’d had trouble explaining this before. “I guess I do not want to intrude on her world. Meeting her is not the object; understanding her reality is.”
“Whatever you say.” James stood and ruffled the top of his mother’s hair.
“Please refrain from doing that, James,” she complained, “you know I do not like it.” She rearranged her auburn curls.
“That’s why I do it,” he returned with a grin. “See ya later, mom.” He bounded out the door.
She shook her head and went back to the hologram of a particularly adorable pair of evening slippers that were slowly twirling around in space above her desk.
Jan 1st, 2120—The first day of the New Year. I’m so excited about my upcoming journey, my stomach is churning, my mind is racing and I’m trying not to turn into a complete nervous wreck. Today I spent some time checking in on my townhouse in Boston with the virtual-cam, just to make sure everything’s in good order there. I’ve been doing it every couple of weeks since we moved to our temporary lab in London, but I probably won’t have time again before I go, so I wanted to really go over it thoroughly today.
As I virtually walked through the old townhouse, I realized how much I miss it: the place Franklin and I lived together so long, and where James was raised. I remember when we bought it; we couldn’t believe our luck at finding a place that, though nearly three hundred years old, was large enough to accommodate the Steinway (which I also desperately miss). Going from room to room, I recalled so many memories, things that don’t tend to occur to me when I’m there in person.
The place was spotless; I set it to self-clean once a week.
The V-cam array doesn’t extend out into the garden, so I couldn’t check on it. I just have to trust that this gardener, who came so highly recommended, is taking as good care of it as I would.
The indoor plants all looked good; they’re on their own watering systems, so that’s not an issue. I have to remember to check with the neighbor to see how Meng the “merciless” cat is doing. He was so sweet to offer to keep her for more than a year.
Now I’m on my way to bed, so I can be at the lab in good time tomorrow for any last minute preparations for Jake’s trip tomorrow night. I’ll have another one to two weeks to make sure I’m ready, depending on how long it takes Jake to get everything set up for me. I’m excited and nervous for him too.
On the evening of Jake’s departure, the entire team gathered in the crowded lab that had been constructed in a London alley. From the outside, it resembled a long rectangular metal box with a door at the front. It was essentially a glorified trailer. It took up every square inch of the alley, which dead-ended after about one hundred feet and was about eight feet wide, and situated just off Long Acre in Covent Garden. Three hundred years ago, it had existed in much the same way, but in the present it was used for the recycling waste of the buildings on either side. Professor Carver’s team, temporarily displaced from MIT, had paid the building managers well to make other arrangements for the fourteen months or so that the lab would have to be in place. Passersby and residents of the area were curious about the strange edifice with many odd antennae, poles, and wires protruding from the roof; however, the team tried to keep its purpose a secret as much as possible, just to dissuade busybodies from disturbing them. Although the general population had known of Carver’s discovery of time travel for many years, it wasn’t helpful to have the curious snooping about.
The layout inside the lab was similar to an old-fashioned railroad apartment. The first room, just inside the front door, was a lounge area with sofas and coffee tables, music equipment, and a Virtual Reality Platform. Beyond that, there was a small kitchen and a bathroom. Behind the kitchen wall was the functioning part of the lab with computer panels and time calibrators. This was also where the pod was located, a vertical tube that could be accessed by a sliding door, resembling, in many ways, nothing more than a shower stall. Behind a final wall was a small sleeping area with an additional bathroom and working shower. The scientists would have to take turns manning the lab twenty-four hours a day for the entire length of Jake and Cassandra’s journeys.
