The Rings, Part 5: Ring of Romance

Kit

It was another one of those days again, one of those snowy days where you can’t go outside and there’s nothing on TV. That was the day I decided to take a second look at those gowns.

It was just after Christmas and I was already bored with my gifts. I had read the seven books I’d received, played the nine games, eaten six of the packs of Tic Tacs, and planned out the gown I was going to make from the material. So I was pretty desperate by the time I arrived in the attic. I was wearing the ruby ring I’d gotten from Edward, the boy from my earlier time travel adventure. He and I were pretty good friends. However, I still had to set him straight about our feelings for each other. He was still just a pretty good friend to me. I was hoping everyone in Victorian England didn’t take things so quickly.

The last thing I expected was for the dress I was wearing to sparkle. I hadn’t planned on being only partially clad in the underskirt and bodice costume from 1763. And I certainly didn’t plan to black out in the middle of getting dressed. But black out I did, and the next thing I knew, I was lying on my back in a muddy street…

"Look out, fair maiden!" screamed someone in the background. I poked my head out of the mud. A horse and his rider were headed in my direction, and they sure didn’t look as if they were going to stop. I scrambled up and out of the road as the horseman rode on.

As I made my way to the nearest hotel (or what I hoped would be a hotel) I gradually figured out that I had done it again. I had sent myself back in time in only a chemise and underskirt, and this time I had gone back even farther, to some year in the seventeenth century. I could tell it was sometime around 1760 due to the outfit details. None of the conveniences from 1802 would be here for me- no feather beds or piles of blankets. With luck, they wouldn’t lock me up in the local loony bin when I asked the date! My steps unconsciously carried me to the front door of an inn, and, ever the opportunist, I stepped inside.

"Excuse me, sir, could I get a cheap room here?" I asked. "Something that I could pay for with this," I added, drawing the silver pendant from my cousin, Julia, off my neck and placing it in the astonished innkeeper’s hand.

"Right this way, Madame," said the innkeeper. Was I just imagining things or did he really sound French? And yet this couldn’t be France- I had seen red skinned men on my walk. All around me, in fact, were a mix of Native Americans and these fair-skinned people. Where could I be?

"Excuse me, but where am I and what date is it?" I asked.

"Excusez-moi, Madame, but you do not know where you are?" asked the innkeeper. "Either you are a victim of lunacy or you have lost your memory since arriving here."

"I think I have lost my memory, monsieur," I said, looking him square in the face. I had to gaze downward as he was a foot and a half shorter than me. "Now, what is the date and where am I?"

"You are in Quebec, and it is January 10^th, 1763," he said. With that he turned and marched jauntily down the narrow hallway. "Here is your room, Madame," he finished, and stalked back to the main room of the inn.

I peeked in the room expecting a roaring fire and a warm bed. What I saw was an empty fireplace, save for a giant log, and a straw-tick with two quilts. The room was filthy, with dust and spiders everywhere, and cold enough to freeze the water in the pail next to the bed. The chamber pot was in a corner. It, too, was gathering dust.

"Oh, how I wish Miranda was here!" I said aloud to no one in particular. Miranda, my maid from 1802, had been my best friend while I was there. I never really expected anything to come of it, but the air ahead of me suddenly distorted and tore, revealing a black hole. Out of that abyss came Miranda.

"Miranda? Could it be you?" I asked. The stout young maid picked herself up and shook the dust off her clothes.

"Oh, my lord, this room is filthy!" said Miranda in a dazed voice. Then she turned to me. "How did I get here?" she asked. "Did you call? And does this have anything to do with the magic ring?"

"It must, for there is no other explanation," I explained. "Miranda, it is so good to see you! It turns out I am not the only time traveler in my group of friends."

"You aren’t?" she asked.

"No. First Sarah tried on a pilgrim outfit and was sent back, then Christina dressed up, and then Jessie. Each one of them was sent back to a different place and brought back a different ring. Miranda, I need your help! This place is filthy and I’m nothing at cleaning… and that’s just the beginning!" I wailed.

"Miranda… I’m stuck back in time with no way to get home!"

Well, Miranda fixed one thing- she made that inn room into a living space. I swear she’s an ancestor of Christopher Lowell (of Interior Motives fame) and she’s just as good at interior design. But try as we might, no amount of chanting or spell casting or praying would get that dress to give me an encouraging glimmer. I slept in it, ate in it, bathed in it… that’s how desperate I was to go home.

But life did not stay tranquil for long. The governor of the local palace was holding a ball and guess who got invited? That’s right. The governor heard that a fine lady was in town, and the next day an invitation went out to Lady Katherine Wood, and her companion, Miranda deGracie. So we not only had to come up with a gown, we had to find something that would fit over my chemise and underskirt. There had to be something we could do! Since removing the dress was not an option, we decided instead to go for the draped fabric look. Long and flowing were the key ideas as we set out to make me a dress. Miranda was already trying my old things on from 1802; she had no problem finding something, but the dress we set out to make would be costly beyond belief. Finally, in desperation, I pulled on some boots one day and wound myself in my cloak.

"Miranda?" I called to my servant. "I’m going out. Please, watch the dress, so none can take it. I shall return!"

The trip to the nearest pawnshop was short- next door, to be exact. The pawnbroker looked over my ruby ring with a thoughtful eye. I prayed he did not notice the magic it held and could work. If a commoner got his paws on it, all hell could break loose. Henry VIII could be sent back to the year VIII AD… or Sir Ralen, that villain, my former husband and Edward’s dad, could find me. Finally the pawnbroker gave me enough gold to buy the remainder of the fabric we needed. We finished the dress just in time for the ball.

That Saturday night was the most harrowing of my life. Miranda primped, polished, and washed me. My hair didn’t need curling (it’s naturally curly) only piling upon my head in an elegant ‘do. Finally Miranda handed me my fan and sent me out to the carriage, saying she’d be there in a minute. When she emerged, she looked absolutely stunning in a blue velvet gown. However, it had a few holes here and there, and it was generally in bad shape. I took a deep breath and summoned up some of that Crazy magic which had gotten my friends into hot water (or hot wood, in Jessie’s case) and repaired the dress. "Just like new," I thought to myself, quite satisfied with my work.

A blond-haired fellow named Sam occupied the first dance of the night. "I am the Earl of Owltree, visiting from my lands in England. I came to pay my respects to my mother, who recently lost my stepfather to a long illness. I see my visit was not all in vain, however, as there are lots of beautiful girls here, among them yourself, my lady," he said. Most girls in my situation would swoon and sigh something like "Oh, my lord," but I, due to my lack of corsets and 20^th century sensibilities, simply nodded and mumbled, "How kind of you, my lord." If this confused him, he showed no sign, but simply kept on dancing.

Three dances later, we were all seated at the long table. To my left was Captain Figtree, the noted leader of the attack on –where was it? Oh, well, maybe it wasn’t so memorable after all. To my right sat a familiar face. I looked closer and saw Edward, the boy from England. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I was taken here by the same calling that took Miranda," he replied. "I heard you would be at the ball tonight, Kit." Oh, he had changed. It was only upon close inspection that I realized who it was. Edward’s once soft eyes had gone from light oak to mahogany, and his chestnut curls had only managed to grow more unruly. A fine jaw line and a nose that bent downward at the bridge completed the face. And his voice had turned deep, as would be expected of a boy his age, I supposed. I just wasn’t expecting a man in place of the boy. A year ago, it had been the three of us: Miranda, Edward, and me. I acted the older sister in every way, and he played the boy so well, he might have been on Drury Lane by now, if not for his father, Sir Ralen. Miranda was our mother figure; for all that she was only eighteen. I had expected Miranda and Edward to marry, but apparently they were the best of friends and that was it.

Oh, this would get complicated, I was sure of that. After dinner, I saw first the Earl of Owltree, then Edward, conferring with Miranda. It was on the Earl’s third dance with me that he presented me with two things. One was the ring, the one that had belonged to Edward’s mother so long ago. Lady Catherine Rose Theresa Seton had been two things that were unfortunate so long ago: married to Sir Ralen, and a witch. One thing had killed her. The other had worked to her advantage. The other thing that the Earl presented to me was a sapphire ring to match the ruby. "How did you come by these, my lord?" I asked. Did he, then, know the story behind the rings?

"The boy wanted to know what had happened with the rings. The one was pawned yesterday, is that correct?" asked the Earl. I nodded. "This one has been in with my family’s jewels for nineteen years. The two were so similar; I could not help but ask. So ask I did, and Edward explained the story. I slipped the ring to Miranda at the dinner table so she could affirm that she was holding it for safekeeping; the other, Edward told me to give to you."

"These rings seem to be linked to certain people. The ruby goes with Miranda and Edward, and the year 1802. This sapphire will summon you to me whenever I need your help. I would respectfully suggest that you keep clothed all the time," I grinned.

The ball ended at midnight and the town’s noble citizens headed home to begin resting. It wouldn’t be seemly to fall asleep in church the next day, and skipping the service was out of the question! So they all headed home. Edward saw Miranda and I home.

"I wish you nothing but the best of luck, Kit. Please remember us always, especially me. You will always hold that special place in my heart," Edward said after a long pause. Dear, prudent Miranda had stepped inside, leaving us alone in the hallway. It was such a narrow passage; there was barely room for the both of us! Another long pause followed.

"Now what?" I thought. For all that it was below freezing outside, the passage was actually beginning to feel too warm! Finally, either the heat got to Edward, or courage was showing itself, because he kissed me on the cheek and left. I leaned against the door. I wasn’t exhausted or anything (this is the story I choose to believe) but merely too warm. I flipped the fan open and fanned myself just as Miranda opened the door and I tumbled into the small room.

"Aaah!" I exclaimed, doing a backwards somersault into the room. Several petticoats went flying over my head and it was the innermost layer that scared Miranda so.

"My lady, I would get out of that expensive overdress now. Look at your original dress!" she hissed. I looked to where she was pointing and saw the tiny sparkles dancing in and out of the linen fibers of the underskirt. The fur on the bodice was tipped with bright, gleaming light. I saw that it was indeed time to go home. I picked myself up off the plank floor. I shook Miranda’s hand and hugged her.

"After my departure, I want you to remain in this spot. I’ll send you home then, after I’ve made my way safely back to the 20^th century," I told my friend.

"Best of luck to you, mistress," she sniffed. "Gaw, ‘tis as if this is the first time you’re leaving me. I should know better, grown wench that I am. Godspeed, good lady!" The sparkle flared to full light and I was sent home again.