“Go on to bed, girls,” Emma said, standing up and shooing them toward Dahlia’s room. “Dahl, love, give her something comfy to wear. And Ariana, if you’ll bring me your gown, I’ll see that it gets properly cleaned. It looks as if you rode for miles in that dusty thing.”
“I did ride for miles, actually. That’s very kind of you, thank you.” She trotted off after Dahlia who was already chattering away.
“Why’d you let her get away?” He turned his overall irritation with the night on Emma.
She gave him a look that made him instantly contrite. None of this was her fault. She should be irritated with him for having such nonsensical family issues.
“1889?” she snapped back. “Isn’t that the year Tilly told you she found out…”
He gulped. “I think you may be right. What in blazes is she doing in that year? She should be an old lady if she were to live to that time.”
“God only knows. And if we start nagging at her and telling her she has to go home, she’ll flee right back to that time instead, and then…”
He understood why she couldn’t finish the sentence every time she tried. The thought of anything Tilly had found out coming true scared the stuffing out of both of them.
“You don’t think she’d pull a runner on us?” he asked. “She was determined to have a proper visit.”
“I doubt her idea of a lovely family reunion involves getting hounded with stories she won’t possibly believe. It’s safer to keep her here until we can gently cajole her into going back to 1832.” Emma put a firm emphasis on the gently cajoling part.
“Is it so obvious I want to wring her neck?” he asked with a tired chuckle.
“Very obvious.”
He clasped his hands nervously, wishing for something stronger than wine but knowing he had to keep his wits about him. “But you don’t think she’ll run off, do you?”
“I don’t think so, no.” Emma stood and massaged his shoulders. “But I’m going to hide her gown to make sure she doesn’t. I doubt she’d want to turn up back then in one of Dahlia’s old tracksuits.”
He laughed, amazed for the millionth time at her quick mind when it came to teenage girls. “What are we going to do?” He dropped his head onto his arms and groaned.
Emma patted his shoulders briskly, then whacked him upside the head, a little less than playfully.
“I haven’t the faintest idea, my darling.” She leaned over to get eye level with him and gave him her sternest look. “What we are not going to do, however, is blurt out everything we think we know. We have to be diplomatic and not treat her like a child. Get her to want to go back on her own. Understood?”
He smiled and craned his neck to kiss her, then pushed away from the table. Perhaps the night wouldn’t be a total wash after all.
“Understood,” he said, pulling her close to him. “Let’s go to bed and try and put this anniversary back on track.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “What a wonderful idea.”
***
Ariana wrapped a blanket around herself and scuffled down the hall to where Dahlia had pointed out the laundry room. The room turned out to be a small closet with two shiny, white boxes with round windows in them stacked on top of one another. Each one had a fascinating array of buttons and symbols. She left her gown in a heap on top of another pile of clothing and hurried back to Dahlia’s room. She had been assured the snug, soft trousers she’d been given were perfectly fine and not inappropriate, but the loose fitting top barely covered her bum. She would die of mortification if Cousin Dexter saw her dressed like that. She’d feel much better in something like what Emma had been wearing. That dress was flimsy and above the knees, but it still felt more proper.
“She’s going to hide your dress so you don’t take off in the night,” Dahlia said, staring down and poking at a thin metal and glass rectangle that never seemed to leave her hand. “Just so you know.”
Ariana sniffed. “I’ve no intention of running away. I came to visit, so I shall have a proper visit before I go.”
“You’re the most posh person I’ve ever met,” Dahlia said, finally looking up and squinting at her. “And I have a friend who has a horse.”
“What is the thing I came in to get here? I would think that would be far more exciting than having a horse.”
Dahlia tipped her head to the side. “You mean the car? That old thing? I suppose it’s something to have a car here in the city but that particular one’s nothing to be proud of. Dexter’s had it since before he met Mum.”
“Well, it’s nothing to have a horse where I’m from.”
“Which is here, right? I mean, Belmary House? You actually live in that old place in your time?”
Ariana settled herself stiffly on a chair that had wheels and swiveled precariously. When she stayed lost in thought, Dahlia persisted with her questioning. “Do people call you by a title?”
“No. My brother Christian will inherit the earldom. People just call me Miss Alexander.” She thought of the people she’d set up at her country mansion. Her coven. With a wrinkle of her nose she realized she didn’t miss them at all. “Well, some people use a title, but it’s more of a joke I suppose. It’s really not proper to do so.” She tried not to swivel away from Dahlia’s persistent gaze. She felt like the beetles her youngest brother put in jars and stared at for hours. “I suppose we’re cousins of a sort,” she said. “I appreciate you helping rescue me from—” she stopped, not wanting to be rude.
“Hours of boring recriminations,” Dahlia finished for her. “You actually rescued me. I was sure to get
