:) You brought a big ole smile to my face! More to come soon. I have a bigggg surprise coming up, and I’m actually taking a history class right now JUST so I can get this right. Hopefully you’ll see this chapter by the end of next week! :) Robin
Novel Treatments / Untitled Historical Romance - Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Lacey woke in a trance, instinctively reaching for her cell phone. In the darkened room, she patted the bed, fluffing pillows and flipping sheets. She sat up, trying to remember the last time she’d used the electronic device and waves of emotion washed over her – she wasn’t home, there was no cell phone, her parents were gone. Family was no longer there at the touch of a dial. Tears welled and lost the battle. It felt like a vacation the first few days, but she couldn’t call her mom, her brothers weren’t here to tease her, and her dad – he wouldn’t be able to offer advice, or tell her things were okay when she was down. A soft, damp tongue licked her hand; a simple reminder she wasn’t alone. She grabbed Zebediah and cradled him against her chest, sobbing into his ruff.
Lacey laid in bed lost deep in thought. Memories of the previous day replayed in her mind; reading about human rights in history books always made an impact, but seeing it was a far cry from the disbelief she felt as a child. After saving Duncan from the chimney sweep, she hustled him inside to hear his story. She learned his father sold him when they could no longer afford to feed the family. In this day, it was natural to sell a child into trade -- one he would hopefully adopt as he got older. The reality of this harsh life, though, was already being addressed before the House of Lords. According to Margaret, it was slow progress, but children’s rights were slowly being recognized-- for Duncan not soon enough. This was the reality Lacey would live with…this was the now.
Sarah and Amy cleaned and bandaged his wounds. But the emotional scars would be permanent. After, Margaret gave Lacey permission to speak with the cook regarding light chores until his wounds healed. Then, they would find something more suitable for the little homeless guy.
Lacey fumbled through the dark room searching for her suitcase. She found it under the bed and slid the outside zipper, hoping to find her last thread to home. The unnaturally smooth, cool cell phone lay cushioned in the pocket. She held the button praying it would work and a blue glow slowly erupted into the emblem of her carrier. There was still enough charge in the phone, the battery ironically surviving more than a century of time. Fingers deftly traveled the keys, flashing between windows until she reached the folder containing the pictures she’d last taken. Three bars…three cherished bars were all that separated her from a final glimpse of family she would never see again. Fresh tears welled as Lacey toggled through smiling photographs of her family, ultimately landing on her favorite. Staring back was a picture of her father…wearing a lopsided smile and straddling her youngest brother’s bicycle—much too small for him. This was a memory she would always cherish. She held the button again to preserve what little charge remained, and the foreign glow of the electronic gadget faded to black.
Damien waited in the forest outside the tiny village, too small to even have a name. The pre-arranged meeting place was familiar, but felt dangerous tonight. Fog rolled over hill and dale, a blanket of refuge against any suspecting eyes. A twig snapped, alerting him to danger. His breathing slowed; surely the thump-thump of his heart would give him away. Overcautious hearing captured the tiniest sound – a cricket singing a song of loneliness on a night meant for friends. Leaves rustled in the dark, echoing against tree trunks…sounding near, but oh so far away. Damien waited.
A man emerged from the underbrush; his stride was methodical and over-exaggerated, as if counting the steps on a treasure map. Damien stepped from the cover of the weeping willow just as the man whispered, “Twenty-five.”
“Do you have it?”
The man jumped, startled from his concentration. Without a word, he lifted the hem of his pant, pulling a piece of parchment from the ankle of a mud-encrusted boot. Damien took the missive, nodding once.
He turned, the back of his cape marking the only good-bye.
Jane knocked and entered the room, waiting for no welcome. She held odd shoes, delivered sometime in the middle of the previous evening, and set them on the washstand. Nothing was a surprise from her new mistress. She walked briskly to the window and pulled the heavy velvet curtains aside, all the while whistling a tune. Lacey stirred in the bed, the only evidence of her person being a tidy mound in the center of tangled blankets.
“Rise and shine,” Jane announced, walking around the footboard and petting Zebediah’s stretching backside.
“I need coffee.” Lacey croaked, barely audible from her position under the pillow.
“You asked me to wake you early.” Jane was all business this morning, opening the wardrobe and stepping back to make a selection.
“Coffee…and lots of it, please.”
Jane nodded, turned and left the room. Lacey tried to rise, but the sleepless night kept pulling her back to the warmth of the cocoon she’d created. She laid in the safety of her nest, waiting for Jane to return.
The door opened on silent hinges and two identical shadows crept in the room. Fire lit a stealthy tip-toe pattern across the muted carpets, one shadow pointing another to the far side of the room. Each body found matching positions on either side of the mattress, resting mischevious chins on the bedspread in unison. One giggled.
Lacey’s eyes popped open.
Surrounded, she woke to matching grins only inches from her face. “Oh my goodness.” She looked from one to the other, trying to find even a freckle of difference between the mirror-like images.
Amy’s wayward sons laughed infectiously, enjoying the shocked look on Lacey’s face. She knew Amy and Edward had sons, but didn’t remember anybody sharing the news of twins. “You must be my cousins. Now let’s see, you both are 15?”
The boys looked at each other, scrawny chests inflating somewhat. “No? How far off am I? 14?” she asked innocently, waiting for either to reply.
One stepped forward—the obvious spokesman. “We are 10 summers,” he announced, stepping back in formation.
“And how do I tell you apart?” she asked, sure they’d heard the same question many times before.
“You don’t,” the other replied, sharing turns with his brother.
One elbowed the other and pointed to Lacey’s nightshirt, the other already taking note of the foreign apparel. “What are you wearing?” the first asked, curiosity overruling manners.
Lacey chuckled. “My favorite sleep shirt. Do you like?” She stepped from the bed, giving them a full view of the worn garment.
“’Anything boys can do, girls can do better!’ That’s ridiculous,” the second took his turn. “Girls can’t do everything boys can do.”
“Oh? And, what can’t I do that you feel you can?” Lacey challenged.
“Girls can’t fight,” the first answered. The second, adding, “Or, race a horse.”
Lacey jumped from the bed, catching the boys unaware. She grabbed the first by an elbow, flipping him unceremoniously over her shoulder and onto the bed. She knew those karate lessons would be handy one day. Before the second recovered from his shock, she mimicked the maneuver, landing the second in a matching prone position beside his brother.
“And that, boys, was your first lesson in the women’s movement,” Lacey said, slapping hands across palms, and diving into the midst of bony arms and legs. She tickled them before they had a chance to recuperate.
Jane entered the room with a tray, to find Lacey on the bottom of a dogpile—the boys being the momentary victors. Zebediah growled, pulling on one twin’s shirttail. She smiled to the tune of giggles and laughter. “Coffee, Miss.”
Lacey’s head popped from the center of the pile, hair covering her face. “Jane have you met these two scamps before?”
Jane appeared speechless for a moment before replying, “Yes, ma’am. These are Lady Amy’s sons, Samuel and Andrew.”
“Sammy and Drewsky, hmm?” The boys exchanged looks again, never hearing such nicknames before. “Well Sammy and Drewsky, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Lacey stood, curtseying in her pitiful rag.
At a loss, the boys ran from the room amidst grins and giggles. They’d finally met their match.
When Lacey entered the breakfast parlor, her early morning visitor’s sat dutifully at the table, all innocence. “Ah, Lacey, I’d like you to meet my sons, Samuel and Andrew. Boys, this is your cousin, Lacey.” Amy waved a napkin to each boy, placing a name to the appropriate child.
Both looked guilty, waiting for Lacey to get them in trouble for their latest ruse. “My goodness, what good looking boys you have. Good morning,” she said, winking at the duo.
“We will be leaving for London at the end of the week, Lacey,” Margaret said, announcing the news she’d previously missed due to her late morning. “If you need anything else, you have two days to prepare.”
Lacey nodded, taking her place at the table. Zebediah marched around to join his new cohorts in crime. He wagged his tail to two overzealous greetings. “What is he wearing?” Andrew asked, screwing his face in a mask of horror. “It’s girly,” Samuel added, looking equally dumbfounded.
Lacey ignored their comments, eating breakfast and chatting amongst the adults. The boys hurried through breakfast, periodically whispering to one another. “Can Zebby go with us?” they finally asked, wearing matching angelic looks.
Lacey knew it would be good for Zebediah to have a good romp outdoors. “Okay, but keep a close eye on him, boys. Zebby could get lost – he doesn’t know his way around yet,” she answered, sure she would be sorry later.
The boys left in a whirlwind of manners and plans, Zebediah looking equally pleased.
*
Damien sat in the smoke-filled tavern in the seediest section of London. He ordered an ale and sat with his back to the corner, watching the entrance. Sailors and ruffians comprised the occupants of the room—even dressing down Damien looked out of place. Several glanced his way, resentment stamped across worn leather-like faces. The door swung forward and a man whisked in from the sea breeze. He scanned the room, noting Damien’s table, and authoritatively walked toward the meeting place. Damien stood.
“It’s been ages, old man, how are you?” the newcomer pumped Damien’s hand.
“I’ll be better once this business is behind us,” he replied, taking a swig from the cold brew. “What news have you?”
“Not good. Napolean makes advances in his campaign. Wellington counters with well placed strategy, but who can know the outcome. Do you have it?”
Damien slipped his hand into the cape he never removed, passing the small missive across the table. His companion palmed the scroll.
“Have you further need of me, Michael?”
“We always have need of you, Damien. Your position makes you so damn useful considering the reputation you’ve maintained amongst the aristocracy. Wellington is concerned a spy rests amongst us and has made special requests you keep a close eye on any suspicious activity.”
“And how will I report any findings?”
“Through the usual chain, my good man. Through the usual chain.” Michael Montague stood. “I must go – duty calls. But, I look forward to seeing you again soon.” He left in the same mysterious shroud he entered, leaving Damien to contemplate the latest news.
*
The remaining hours at Byington Estate were a mixture of overseeing the packing, and closing the house—with the exception of a few central rooms to be used by the skeleton staff on their departure. Sheets were lowered over each piece of furniture, shrouding the rooms in a ghost-like tomb. Even the family bustled about, finalizing last minute arrangements with the staff. Amy and Sarah spent the better part of their time in the workroom, packaging dried herbs, and mixing last minute concoctions. Margaret oversaw the staff, while Edward closeted himself in the library, one of the last rooms to receive attention.
At last, it was time to leave for London. Lacey felt excited over the trip, anxious to wear Mimi’s gowns. The idea of balls and endless parties left the socialite desirous of the London Season, and anxious to leave the country. She was ready to find a purpose in this trip so far from her home, and felt London must be the answer.
The entourage of carriages and wagons was endless. The family rode foremost in two crest bearing carriages. In the rear, wagons carrying all of the household essentials were loaded and strapped with rope to prevent any trunks from breaking free.
Lacey observed the train of vehicles, noting the differences of a trip in her time. Loading the SUV for a vacation back home consisted of a couple hours investment, and the space allotted for each person was minimal. Buckling into a car for a couple hours trip didn’t require packing up a house, or this kind of forethought. Even safety was considered by today’s traveling companion, since highway robbers were of utmost concern.
Lacey was loaded with Margaret and Amy in one carriage. Laprugs were tucked around each of the women, reminding Lacey of the lack of heating and cooling. Hours of idle chitchat settled into final lessons for the London Season. Rules were endless, women’s rights minimal, and even something as simple as a walk through the London Streets weren’t permitted without the accompaniment of a maid. One never spent time alone in a gentleman’s company unless, of course, they were engaged to be married.
In turn, Lacey shared tidbits of life in 2007 with the ladies – their favorite stories always including some tidbit about modern day convenience.
“Tell me more about the medicines,” Amy asked, leaning forward with interest.
“Well…” Lacey hesitated, “There is aspirin to remove a fever in less than an hour, antibiotics to kill an infection, cold medicines to mask the symptoms of coughing and running nose, Alkaseltzer relieves indigestion – Mydol…we even have something for the pain of a woman’s cycle.” Rather than methodically list the various medications, Lacey had commercials dancing through her mind.
‘How do I describe plop, plop, fizz, fizz…oh what a relief it is?’ she thought, a giggle threatening to escape.
Hospitals and germ-free environments were another favorite for Amy, while Margaret preferred detailed descriptions of modern day inventions and governmental policies. Microwave ovens, women and civil rights, cars and machinery, computers…the list was endless. The carriages slowed to a clip-clop just as Lacey finished a layman’s explanation of birth control pills.
Six hours of torturous joggling from a carriage ride was enough, and Lacey was anxious for her first view of 19th century England. What she didn’t expect was the waft of raw sewage from the city streets, the immediate clash between poverty and wealth, or the intriguing view of Damien Yarlborough leaning elegantly against a walking stick in front of the townhouse they would soon occupy.
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andersda reviewed Version 2 -
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The bit about having children sold into apprenticeships is quite nice, ala Charlie Dickins, but, in this instance, you’ve told rather than shown. You may have developed this theme in earlier chapters, but I didn’t go back to read them because once we’re so far in queue we can’t go back. You might want to pick up a copy of Dianna Galboldon’s “Dragonfly in Amber” series for an outstanding treatment of a modern-day woman traveling back in time. This may give you another view of the time problem.
I read the prose from this piece aloud to myself with an eye toward seeing how nicely it rolls off the tongue. I’m sorry to say that it doesn’t. You might want to rework some of the lines a little so choppiness goes away.
I like all your characters, even the dog, but there are these unanswered questions about them that has me asking what happened? A family withdraws from the country and goes to the city, a child is rescued from an apprenticeship, and there was evidently a meeting between spies. I’m not sure you’ve made up your mind where you want to go with this. It could be very light and funny by capitalizing on the differences or it could be dark as night. What happened to the little chimney-sweep apprentice. He’s indroduced, lamented and then forgotten within a single paragraph. Either use him for something or get rid of him.
Here are proofs and examples of prose that needs work;
“phone, her parents” vs. phone, and her parents
“Family was no” The two sentences from here are choppy and seem unnecessary.
“Tears welled and lost the battle” is not what you were shooting for.
“the disbelief she felt as a child” vs. reading about it
“battery ironically surviving more than a century” fails to explain how this is possible. Also, if there is irony there it isn’t clear to the reader.
“Damien waited in the forest outside the tiny village, too small to even have a name” Isn’t his name Damien?
“Fog rolled over hill and dale, a blanket of refuge against any suspecting eyes” vs. The fog rolled in – its blanket a refuge against suspicious eyes.
With that entire Damien bit I have no idea what took place or why.
“Jane knocked and entered the room, waiting for no welcome.” vs. Jane knocked and entered not waiting for a welcome.
“She held odd shoes, delivered” vs which were delivered
“tidy mound in the center of tangled blankets” tidy or tangled?
““We are 10 summers,” nice…
“she mimicked the” vs repeated
“palmed the scroll.” Aren’t scrolls obsolete by the time of Napoleon in 1806?
“He left in the same mysterious shroud he entered,” He left shrouded in the same air of mystery that he had entered with.
“The remaining hours at Byington Estate” For who
Central rooms were probably not used by the servants.
“Sheets were lowered over each piece of furniture, shrouding the rooms in a ghost-like tomb” The furniture was covered with sheets giving the room a ghost-filled appearance.
“the household essentials” More than likely the would have been filled with clothing – not pots and pans.
“walk through the London Streets weren’t permitted” wals/was wals/were
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NancyAllen reviewed Version 2 -
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I loved the storyline. It does entertain. “It felt like a vacation” is a little unreal. I wanted Lacey to feel a little frightened or at least anxiety. Duncan needs more description. That could have been earlier. Were people saying “rise and shine” back then? Lacey just seems too calm. I like it and would have read more had time allowed.
astunis reviewed Version 2 -
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I fully enjoy this story and wish that i had begun reading your story earlier. The way in which you combine the past and present is refreshing. However i think that you should consider making your transitions flow more smoothly.
Taemaeri reviewed Version 2 -
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I will stay away from grammar mistakes mainly because I didn’t see any. I really enjoyed this piece, but I found myself wondering how did she get there and how did the women know that she was not from their time. I think I will look for the other chapters. There were a few suggestions or things I wondered about for instance how come her cell phone still works? That seems a little far fetched, but this is fiction/fantasy so anything goes pretty much. I think there should be a small description of the twins like what color was their hair or eyes. The language is appropriate from what I can tell, but I think there needs to be more details about their surroundings.
Doom07 reviewed Version 2 -
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Wow. This was amazing. I was a bit lost at times, mainly because I havent read part one, but for whatever reason that did not distract from the overall merit of the characters or the entirety of the story itself. I believe you have something in works here that could be very powerful. And that IS DEFINITELY saying something, cause normally I hate Romance! haha but anyway, this was actually something enjoyable… Thanks
Jesse James
p.s. – great use of figurative elements
BlondieBlue reviewed Version 2 -
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I seriously get so sad every time I get to the end of a chapter. This is one of my favorites on here and I hope you keep writing more and you let me know when you come out with the next chapter. I didn’t notice any spelling or grammatical errors. Everything was perfect. I can’t wait until you get this published so I can buy it and have all my friend’s buy it. Lovely and wonderful. Keep up the good work.
There are so many things that I keep wondering about and I know that you do it on purpose to keep the reader interested, but it is driving me insane. Please write the next chapter soon. Oh and another thing, you need to come up with a title for this. If I come up with anything I will let you know. Until then, good luck and let me know when the next chapter comes out. I can’t wait.
roxyrooroo reviewed Version 2 -
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Again it is a nice read. Your story is really coming along. I am wondering about this Damien though…his story confuses me a little bit? The two boys too I don’t know what they are going to bring to the story either…their adventure into her bedroom without knowing her was a bit weird. Other than that I loved that she is finally homesick…I am glad her phone worked! You had a good way of portraying her feelings for back-home! It is going to be very interesting when she goes to London…I think the true adventure will begin there!
snopes reviewed Version 2 -
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still going strong…i like the medecine stuff, i dunno if you’ve read feyerabend, but making fun of medecine is right up his alley and you do that in a way, though i hope it’s intentional…I’ve reviewed a couple other chapters and I wanna say I’m sorry if i don’t delve into the details of the plot, I think the story is pretty good so i wanna take a kind of birds eye view and say what i think (also i assume you can proofread and so don’t need any snarky grammar advice…)...anyhoo the story is still moving along, flowing nicely and Zebediah is a good romantic interest, and Lacey’s position is always interesting…and i just remembered, is this based much on that book by Mark Twain (a young Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court or something…)?
lupi reviewed Version 2 -
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Having read your reviews before reviewing myself, I am going to avoid commenting on historical issues which have already been touched on and that you appear to have already researched. I will, however, briefly mention that in England, the American practice of serving cold beer is seen as barbaric. Damien would never be sitting in a tavern drinking a “cold brew.”
Other than that, I have to comment on Lacey’s homesickness. It almost made ME cry and I am not an easy critic in terms of emotional scenes. Bravo! The timing was impeccable as well. Some writers might have tried to introduce it earlier, but I think that the initial culture shock and curiousity it aroused in her would have caused it to set in after she had been forced to the realization that this situation was real. Giving her a few days to adjust to her situation before her homesickness appeared was nothing less than inspired!
I look forward to your next chapter! Happy writing!
P.S. Feel free to comment on my stuff!
cntrydncrlvr reviewed Version 2 -
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Not having the chance to read earlier entries leaves me at a loss. I would like to see you expand on some of the differences more. Like what they used for womens problems back then or many of the other older versions of this type. Also maybe you could describe the dress she is to wear as from what she is used to wearing. I want to really be able to get into the moment a little more and by describing these things I think would help me to do just that. Draw mw in and make me feel like I am right there in this time.
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