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Chapter Two
“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.”
—Helena, Act 1,A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Victorian England. London.
“Well, here we are,” Annie announced cheerfully.
“But where are we, exactly?” Ben asked.
The both turned slowly in a full circle, taking in their surroundings. As they did so, two little boys half their height ran between them, practically mowing them down.
“Hey!” Annie cried, one hand splaying over her chest, while the other fisted in her voluminous skirts.
“I think they just tried to pickpocket me!”
Ben shoved his own hands in his pockets to check.
“We’ve nothing of value for them to take,” he surmised. “Only the clothes on our back and shoes on our feet.”
“But look!” Annie exclaimed excitedly, fingers going to her temple. “I’m wearing a hat. A real lady’s hat! Where’s a full-length mirror when I need one?”
They found the nearest one just a few feet away—the large windows of a book store on the corner of the street.
“Oh, you cut a mighty dashing figure, Mr. D’Angelo,” Annie quipped, adopting a strange accent that Ben guessed was her imitation of British upper-class elocution.
She eyed him appreciatively up and down.
“You’re practically poured into that superfine suit. And phew! You sure are tall! Especially with that top hat.”
Ben assessed his friend in turn.
“You’re not too shabby yourself, Annie. How did you manage to get a waist so small? I don’t recall seeing it.”
“Because you see me mostly in baggy sweaters and shapeless sweatpants,” she retorted. “Winters are brutal in NYC, never mind the Yukon.”
“By the looks of us, I’d say we’re dressed for nobility,” Ben observed. “What do you think? Do we belong to the inner echelons of thetonor are we simply well-to-do gentry?”
“Well, listen to you,” Annie chirped with a smile, “since when are you an expert on Victorian society?”
“You know I’m a history fanatic,” Ben said. “I prefer ancient history given a choice, but all historical time periods fascinate me.”
“As to your question,” Annie responded, “I do believe we’re fashionable enough to belong to the crème-de-la-crème of good society. My dress is surely made of silk and satin. My slippers too. And these buttons might actually be real gold. No wonder those boys tried to tear some off.”
Ben stood closer protectively, perhaps too close by propriety’s standards, but he didn’t care. He didn’t have a reputation to besmudge, after all. And he wouldn’t stay long enough (he hoped) to acquire a reputation in the first place.
“I’m surprised you managed to hang on to your…what’s that word? Not purse…”
“You mean reticule?” Annie supplied. “Well, it was firmly locked on my wrist when they rushed us.”
She opened it and peered hopefully inside, only to show her disappointment shortly thereafter.
“Empty,” she muttered. “Your Uncle Ere wasn’t kidding when he said we’d have nothing valuable on our person.”
“I’m pretty sure our wardrobes, foot and hat wear are extremely costly,” Ben noted. “We could sell them if we need to.”
Annie clutched the reticule to her stomach jealously.
