Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Prudence shot me an impish look. “Shall we?”
I grinned at her. “We shall.”
And with that, we stepped onto the parquet.
Instantly, my world turned blue, then green, then purple, the kaleidoscope of colors all a haze as I found myself among couples twirling around the floor in a waltz. I could hear the muted conversation, the orchestra playing, even the wisp of slippers and hems of ballgowns sweeping the wood.
Prudence’s arm in mine guided me into the miasma swirling around me as women’s feather-bearing heads turned this way and that, men’s coattails fluttered, jewels glowed murkily.
I heard a giggle, a low chuckle, a whispered insult.
We kept walking.
And the view changed.
The colors were gone, it was all in a mist of blue that I saw the lines of beds, the privacy screens, the old fashioned IV stands, nurses wandering, doctors reading charts, patients hobbling.
A woman sat by a man in bed, and I listened to him dictating a letter to her as she carefully scribbled.
He did this because he had no hands.
To my darling Jane…
My attention shifted to a set of double French doors at the end of the room as I saw the back of a man with a crutch under one arm, his other arm busy with the woman at his side clutching his other arm at his elbow.
He was smiling down at her as he led her out into a blinding blue sunshine.
“Vivi?” I heard Prudence call as I pulled from her hold to go after them. “Vivi!”
I hit the doors; they were closed.
I tried to open them; they were locked.
The key was in the lock.
I turned it and stepped out onto the terrace.
And it all faded away.
“Vivi!” Prudence cried again as she grabbed my hand.
I looked down at her vaguely, then turned my attention to the ballroom, which was just an empty ballroom.
Okay.
All right.
Okay.
Holy hell.
What the fuck just happened?
“Are you all right?” Prudence asked, pumping her fingers around my hand.
“Did you—?”
I couldn’t finish.
Because…did I?
Did I just see what I just saw?
Did I just hear what I just heard?
Did that just happen?
“Did I what?” Prudence asked.
I said nothing.
“Vivi, you’re worrying me. Are you okay?”
“I…have a very vivid imagination,” I told her.
Her smile was shaky. “I would suppose so, considering you’re a writer.”
“And I could swear I just saw a ball happening in that room, circa the Regency,” I rushed out. “And then it morphed into a convalescent hospital during World War II.”
Her head drifted so she could look into the room, and she asked, “Really?”
“You didn’t…you…?”
Of course she didn’t.
How long was my jetlag going to last?
Prudence came back to me. “There’s a lot of history here.”
I nodded, fervently.
Yes, she was right.
Historical places had feels. So did historical things.
I’d twice seen the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights displayed in the Rotunda of the National Archives, and both times, all those around me spoke in hushed tones in the presence of such important documents written and signed by men who changed the entire world.
Hell, just a few days ago, I was fortunate enough to see both original copies of the Magna Carta on display at the British Library, and the same thing happened.
This was my thing.
This was my gig.
This was my muse.
Since I found Great-Granddad Charlie’s letters, I’d been obsessed by what happened between him and Lady Harmony Talyn in that room.
So of course my imagination would stir up something spectacular the instant I stepped foot in it.
Right?
Right?
Okay, so nothing that profound, and frankly bizarre, had ever happened to me before.
But I wasn’t blood relative to anyone involved in writing the Constitution or the Magna Carta.
So of course this would be more powerful.
“Should we go to the studio now?” Prudence asked hesitantly. “Or do you, maybe, want to lie down again?”
She was worried I’d think she was a crazy cat lady.
Now I was worried she thought I was just crazy.
I shook my head and plastered on a smile. “No. No. Let’s go to the studio. I was just…overwhelmed I was finally where it happened. Maybe, I guess, you know, if it had worked out for them, I might not be here. And maybe that all just…got to me.”
“Maybe,” she agreed.
“It was actually kind of cool,” I lied.
Because it was not.
It was freaky as fuck!
She giggled. “I wouldn’t mind being in the middle of a Regency ball.”
“It was pretty rad,’ I lied again.
So, maybe it was.
It was still freaky as fuck.
She guided me to the side of the terrace where there were some steps down to the gardens, doing this saying, “I bet it was.”
Note to self: avoid the freaking ballroom.
Our feet hit soft turf, and I finally felt the cool air against my face, so I focused on it.
Later, I’d think about passing out the instant I saw Battle and wandering among phantoms waltzing in the ballroom and what those wild things happening might mean.