Mary Robb - Down the Rabbit Hole

“Even nature is on our side,” Alice had whispered between kisses that convinced them that they needed to lie on the lounge to fully enjoy them. Their bodies pressed together in imitation of their lips.

It seemed as natural as the rain to undress each other in between kisses. Eventually the urgency of their caresses compelled them to rush removing the last bits of clothing. They paused for no more than a breath and came together in a heated coupling that had him forgetting she was a virgin.

Apparently she forgot too, as she made no sound of pain but rather surrendered to him with a moan of pleasure that escalated to a crying gasp as she crushed him to her and welcomed his seed.

There was never a moment of regret, for either of them. In a few weeks they learned there was no need to marry, which he regretted, though Alice swore that would never have been an option.

It was the beginning of the end for them. The first argument that could not be resolved. He could not recall the exact words, but could still recount them closely enough for it to act like cold water on his lust. “You would rather have a bastard child than marry me?”

“Not really. An ill-born child does not have an easy life if they wish any entrée to society, even country society.”

“Then why?”

“I will not ruin your place among the ton, and in Parliament where you have such great responsibilities, by leg-shackling you to someone so far beneath you, the daughter of a divorced couple.”

“That is not a burden you should have to bear.”

“This is an absurd argument, my lord. I am not carrying your child, so it is a moot point.”

Absurd it might have been, but on it went until it became clear that neither one of them would give their ground.

So that hour in the boathouse was the one and only time they had made love. No, neither of them regretted the act, but it had brought too dangerous a subject to the fore, and had crushed his hopes of marrying her. It was better to avoid the action.

In the end the frustration of love unfulfilled had made living near each other too much to bear. He had gone off to London and she had left for Yorkshire and her first position preparing young ladies for their come out.

Now they were beside each other, but miles apart in all that mattered.

As he had the thought she turned toward him, her eyes open but still half asleep. “I did not mean to sleep in your bed.” She made to rise but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Nothing will happen that you do not want.” He meant that even as he wished that she would want what he did. “I do suspect the brandy left you confused.”

“Never say that word to me again. Brandy.” She shuddered and closed her eyes as he watched her. “I may have been confused before, but now I feel fine. Even the headache is gone.”

“Lucky you, Alice. That is not the norm.”

She gave him a look that said her episode in the bathroom had been punishment enough.

“Can you guess how many times I have wished for this, Wes?”

Now there was a change of subject, but he was not sure the subject was a wise choice.

“Us in bed together? I imagine that I have wished for it at least as many times as you have.” He would wait for her to decide how much more it would be than lying side by side.

She raised her head and, oddly, kissed his shoulder. Then she moved away and turned her attention to the ceiling.

“They no longer have bed curtains,” she said, changing the subject.

“No, the rooms are warm enough that they do not even need a fire, either,” he said, following her lead.

“Without curtains, sleeping feels so much more public to me.”

“This from a woman who made love in a boathouse.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“I am not talking about making love!” she snapped.

“It’s all I can think about.”

“You know, Weston, you know,” she repeated the words with emphasis, “from our one experience that making love makes our world even more complicated.”

Yes, it did. Making love satisfied him, them, physically, but to be satisfied emotionally was something else entirely.

“Only because we allow it to complicate.”

“Perhaps for a man the act is simpler. For a woman it means a kind of commitment. At least for this woman it does.”

“Then make the commitment, Alice. Say you will marry me. That one yes will be as binding to me as any said before a vicar in a church.”

She did not answer him with words. Alice pushed the covers back, slipped from the bed, gathered her clothes and then faced him. “I wonder if women today feel less of an emotional commitment when they make love? Weston, in all the ways that matter I have been yours since that first time we were together. You are the one and only man I will ever love. But the very act of marrying you would mean living with the constant reminder that I am not your equal and never will be.”

Alice left the room, and he was smart enough not to call her back or follow her. One moment of honesty was enough for tonight. She loved him. Would love him forever. He held that thought as closely as he wanted to hold her. And actually fell asleep smiling.

Mr. Arbuckle was waiting for them in the library. Weston wished he had been with them at breakfast, a meal made awkward by the housekeeper’s nonchalance and Alice’s embarrassment. Her discomfort made him so restless it was all he could do not to stand up and prowl the room.

“Good morning!” Mr. Arbuckle announced, rubbing his hands together as if he were preparing to share a special treat. “Is there something specific you would like to do today?”

“I want to go back to my proper time and place,” Alice announced. Her discomfort dimmed some of Mr. Arbuckle’s enthusiasm.

“I am afraid I have no control over that. The coin does, and it is most certainly at the earl’s country house, Westmoreland, far out of our reach.”

“Alice, try not to worry so much.”

“Oh, Weston, that is so easy for you to say. My whole livelihood depends on creating and maintaining a good packet of references. I am so afraid that Miss Amy, despite her best intentions, is ruining the profession I have nurtured so carefully.”

“This is not easy for me to say, my dear.” He sat across from her and leaned forward. “My uncle left the estate a financial disaster. I have been trying to find a way out of the mess.” He looked at Arbuckle and smiled. “But if I am right, then the coal investment will be the solution. It makes me more willing to believe that the gift of this time travel has not been all one-sided.”

“And, so it is, my lord,” Arbuckle agreed. “As I told Miss Amy and Mr. West, this passage through the space-time continuum was always meant to be. What happens here and in 1805 is part of the long-accepted history of your family. You are not changing history in any way.”

Arbuckle stepped closer to Alice. “That is true for you too, Miss Kemp. There is something in this experience that will enrich your life, make it better, make it happier, make you wiser. The magic coin does not deal in misery or unhappiness, nor does it only affect one person. It grants wishes, and one rarely wishes for bad things, now, do they?”

“But we did not wish on the coin,” Alice pointed out with unnecessary asperity.

“You will have a chance to make a wish when you return, and in doing so you can use the insight you have gained in this century to make your world as you would wish it.”

“The world I wish and the world in reality are two very different things.”

“Have faith, Miss Kemp. Have faith that the coin will make your heart’s dearest wish come true.”