(no subject)

[pearl_smithers]

"C'mon, c'mon, if we run, we can beat the rain, and get inside the church before the concert starts." Ashley checked her watch and broke into a jog.

"You and your silly concert!" Sophia trudged along, her rainboots kicking up water as she dashed after Ashley. "This is a stay-home-and-drink-tea kind of day!"

"Look! " Ashley pointed at a long banner that flapped across the side of a building, "YOU CAN'T HANDEL THIS" screamed the garish letters. On either side of the slogan an engraving of Handel frowned down at them. She paused to catch her breath "I think maybe they should've gone with a less hipster advertising campaign though."

Sophia stopped short and smacked a hand across half of her face to hide her grimace. "They really need a new marketing person…" she groaned. "What is this, 1985?"

"It's retro, vintage, whatever...hey--at least they didn't string it up in front of Westminster. I've heard this is going to be one of the most historically informed performances they've ever hosted. The orchestra is even going to be wearing powdered wigs!"

"Woo, powdered wigs," Sophia rolled her eyes, but she had a teasing grin. "Sure hope they don't expect us to use chamberpots during the intermission…" she giggled. "Oh phooey, I should have worn my ballgown! Ring the servant bell, quick! Where is Carson with tea?!" she chuckled. "Yeah, before you say it, I get it, wrong period..."

"Well I heard that there's a guy hosting an 18th century style masquerade at his house after the concert? People are going in full costume, but tickets were like 500 euros..." She sighed. "I'm just glad we got student tickets to the concert--besides, we have to stop off at the museum before it closes."

"Pounds, you mean?" Sophia nudged her friend as they trooped towards the Abbey. "You've obviously spent too much time in France, sacre bleu!" All was said in jest. "Anyway, I couldn't be out all night pretending to be Elizabeth Bennet or whoever, I have an ancient Meso-American art midterm tomorrow…"

"Well as long as you don't get the Mayas and Incas mixed up...this guy I met in the library yesterday...ugh! Can people not keep it straight it was two different continents?" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "I have an exam on Tuesday..."Desire in baroque cantatas--more like frickin' disturbing baroque cantatas, my professor has got to be the most clueless--oh look there's the line!"

They joined the line, rummaging hastily in her pockets Ashley added, "So--do you think your cameos or miniatures or whatever are the real deal?"

"I'm guessing they're real… Professor Layton wanted me to examine them and write up a paper for some journal on the hallmarks of why they're the real deal. I'm like, why can't HE do this? I have enough on my plate as it is." She groaned. "I have to buy my plane ticket home for the break still… and then start applying for grad schools."

"Probably he means write something on them and photograph them, and then he'll jump in to supervise, slap his name on it, and take all the credit." Ashley rolled her eyes. "I don't know if mine are real or Victorian copies. They're by this guy's German or Austrian grandmother's great-grandfather or something, and about the rivalry between two basses or something--I just skimmed them. I gotta say I'm thinking it's a little dubious even if they do date from the 18th century, it sounds a little over the top, apparently they have a duel over their leading lady on opening night? Seriously? Yes, just us two, thanks."

"Geez, sounds like something out of Amadeus — have you seen that movie?" Finally they were inside, as the line filtered in, and an usher escorted them to their seats. "I can't believe we're here - just think William and Kate were married here!" Sophia squealed under her breath.

"Yeah, loved the music, hate the history! These letters were supposedly written in Vienna actually." Ashley had dropped her voice to a whisper, she couldn't help but feel a bit awed, as the centuries old gray arches curved overhead, the only light that filtered in came through the stain glass windows. "It is amazing, I mean,not just Will and Kate, but Queen Victoria, even George III..."

"Oh and Princess Diana," Sophia wrinkled her nose. "Wonder if we'll see anyone famous here tonight…" she stopped cold as her grip tightened around her friend's arm. "There's Tom Hiddleston, I swear!!!"

"Mmm-hmm, just like when we spotted 'Benny' popping out of Harrod's huh?"

"No, really, look just past that man with the bald head and the big red nose…" Though all that was visible was a wavy head of blond hair, it was clearly Mr. Hiddleston as soon as the man glanced around. Sophia calmed herself, having been proven right. "Ok, first celebrity sighting - done."

"You don't have like a list of British celebrities do you--" She paused in the process of discreetly sliding her backpack off her shoulders, and narrowed her eyes at her friend suspiciously, "I would never expect to see anyone famous here in London--they're all probably over in Hollywood, or indoors on a set. Is Hiddleston a secret baroque junkie or something?"

"You would NEVER expect to see a celebrity in London? Are you kidding me? " Sophia rolled her eyes. "And he is a man of class, and we're in Westminster Abbey at a classical music concert. What, does he need to show some secret Handel Club card to prove himself?"

"I dunno," With a deep sigh Ashley flipped open the glossy program notes and leaned back in her seat, "want me to ask him?"

"Um, no. Shh - the musicians are tuning up," Sophia hissed and settled into her seat. The conductor crossed the stage to stand at his place and raised his baton.

Unfortunately as a silence settled over the crowd, the first thing they could hear from the front was not an ethereal harmony, but a dry, clipped voice. "Welcome to our commemorative celebration, we would like to thank the following...."

Heaving a deep sigh, Sophia bit her lip, and reached down to retrieve her phone from her backpack--just as male figure in a damp coat shoved past them, almost stepping on their bags.

"Ugh," Ashley hoisted her backpack onto her lap and patted it protectively.

"Geez, what a jerk," Sophia muttered under her breath, watching the figure lumber off. She turned her cell off and settled in for the music.

And the music did not disappoint, she had to crane her neck to see it, but to her satisfaction Ashley noted the musicians were indeed in period dress, down to the graceful soprano sporting elaborate court panniers, sauntering up and down the stage as though it were everyday she gave voice to "Myself I shall adore" while wearing a towering powdered wig.

Sophia liked the music, and the beautiful clothes, but she had to admit that some of the songs seemed a bit - long, if not spirited - and the soprano was a bit sassy. She kept rolling her eyes and flashing a smile at every man in the audience. Especially in the direction of Tom Hiddleston! Sophia found her eyes drawn towards the back of his perfectly wavy hair.

Ashley's gaze stole from the soprano, to target of the soprano's gleaming smiles, to her friend, and then back again, and struggled to hold back a giggle. After the song, there was a roar of thunderous applause, made all the louder by the antique acoustics. Then before they even had a chance to catch their breath, another song struck up, far faster pace, the soprano tossed her head, and flashed her eyes, clasping her hands to her bosom and sinking gracefully to the floor near the edge of the stage...the edge nearest Tom Hiddleston, thought Ashley with amusement. She didn't dare glance at her friend.

Sophia's eyes could have not only burned a hole through Tom's head but straight through to bore another one into that soprano. She sat as calmly as possible, and tried to refocus on the music, instead of the silly soprano.

Ashley found herself wondering if the audience would still find the soprano so cute and feminine if they knew she was singing from the perspective of barbarian warrior, declaring his eagerness to slay tyrants and monsters for his princess.

Shifting in her seat a bit, a movement caught her eye, there braced against a pillar, was the same idiot who had nearly stomped on their backpacks. Yes! She was sure it was him, skulking in his long leather coat, dark hair plastered and straggling down his back in an ugly short ponytail. And what weird boots were those, too chunky, and with some kind of buckles on the front. The audience was applauding again and she joined in.

Hours later concert ended with a rousing applause. Sophia had wound up liking it more than she thought, as soon as the soprano was knocked down by the other musicians. She nudged Ashley. "Don't forget we gotta stop off and get that stuff."

"You OK? I thought you were going to start shooting laser beams from your eyes any second now." They joined the swarm heading for the exit.

"Uh - yeah- " Sophia whirled around as the crowd began to pile out of the Abbey. "Wait - where'd Tom go?!"

"My, my should I tell him you're on a first name basis already?" Ashley grinned.

"NO, I just wanted to say hello, shake his hand, exchange phone numbers, you know!" She sighed. "I can't believe we were in the same room…"

"The same cathedral you mean, what time is it--the museum locks up at 6, we better hurry. Did you at least get a picture of him?"

"No," Sophia wailed. "Oh crap, 6? We'd better get out of this crowd and fast!" They weaved their way through the people and began a dash towards the museum.

"There's going to be another concert next Sunday, maybe he'll be here then...I wonder if that was even him." She skirted the edge of mud puddle. "Maybe it was just an impersonator they hired to drum up publicity? Look, the museum is still open, we're fine, it's only--" She squinted at her phone, "it's only 5:45."

"I'm sure it was - didn't you see how the stupid singer was cozying up to him?" Sophia rolled her eyes, opening the door and shaking some rain from her coat. "I'm going to go find whatever my prof told me to get… meet you here in 15?"

"Sure, I gotta check that someone finished digitizing those old journals we got anyway." Ashley grinned over her shoulder, "dinner's on whoever gets back last." She pulled out her mobile. "Which'll probably be me."

"Good! I want a nice dinner for once, if it's on you!" Sophia laughed and made her way downstairs to the archives. No one was there at this hour, but as she descended the stairs, she paused. What the… there was a subtle current of air that hit her as soon as she reached the bottom three steps. Odd, considering it was climate controlled. Shaking off her hesitation with a subtle frown, she hurried over to a long examination table where a miniature portrait was waiting beside a small aluminum case for travel.

From within his round frame a young man was staring back at her with those heavy-lidded eyes and Mona-Lisa smile that was so typical of 18th century portraiture. One of his eyebrows was slightly raised in a quizzical manner. "Jaunty fellow," Sophia mused, eyeing him back. "You should make that your Facebook photo." She reached for the miniature...

The only sounds were the faint hum of the machinery, as her friend's footsteps faded downstairs, Ashley felt a slight chill come over, despite the fact that she was dressed warmly, and usually felt the cool, dry atmosphere some museum visitors complained about was her natural element.

Was there even anybody still on duty? The doors had been unlocked, but there was nobody behind the desk at the museum's reception area. She couldn't remember seeing the security guard's van outside either.

She turned left past a glass display housing a tiny harpsichord that had supposedly been the childhood instrument of one of George II's children, and pushed open the door marked STAFF ONLY.

There, just as sloppily bundled as they had been in the photo her boss had texted her that morning, was the new batch of the Burg Correspondence, though personally she was beginning to prefer the term "The Lebenseele Letters", the faded ribbon that held them together still gleamed under the lights, she bent forward for a better look...

Sophia snatched a pair of gloves from a box under the work table and snapped them onto her hands, wiggling her fingers with a grin. The doctor was in the house. Except not really. She was just putting the portrait into the small box. Her fingers closed around the little picture and then . . .

Suddenly a wave of light overtook her vision. Bile rose in her throat. The world seemed to spin with no visual reference - nothing before her, behind her, above or below. A free fall. And falling she was, as her hair was streaming behind her in a blast of musty, warm air, like… breath.

Too stunned to register what was happening, Sophia slowly she began to see shapes forming in front of her. . .

Suddenly Ashley stumbled forward, grasping the edge of the table, it felt as though a tidal wive of icy wind had smashed into her, what was wrong--she was the person who could a ton of candy, ride the tilt-a-whirl, and still be fine. Gray dark, and golden light flickered across her vision, like the sun rising and setting at the same time, she fell, as she had only fallen before in nightmares. When she hit a hard surface it seemed as though her entire body vibrated with the impact, but somehow, as she struggled to push herself back up, she was unhurt.

Her head's piercing pain and the scortching, sour bile in her throat remained, but Sophia was only slightly achy upon coming back to consciousness. Probably because she was holding herself so tightly. Was this the end of the world? Had a bomb gone off, and now she was dead? But she still felt the miniature in her gloved hands. And new textures began to fade in. Dirt beneath her. A slightly putrid, rank smell in the air. She opened her eyes …to find herself in some dark alleyway. Nothing resembling the museum archives.

Dirt beneath her, and a cold current of air that moved as a hand passing through water, not unlike what she had felt when descending the stairs earlier. It was dark, and smelled of damp earth. She shivered uncontrollably. What had just happened?

Blackness surrounded her.

Trying to breath evenly, Ashley slowly pushed herself up. Was that some sort of seizure? Was she blinded, or possibly--the glimpse of moonlight through a window reassured her slightly, though her mind was still spinning. The power must've gone out. That was it.

Sitting here and shivering… Sophia needed to find out where she was, and how she got here. She eased herself up. Just for normalcy's sake, she patted her sneakers, jeans, sweater, and raincoat. Everything was there, down to the 50p and cell phone in her pocket. Her cell phone! Like lightning her hand shot to her coat pocket and grabbed the iphone, then switched on the flashlight.

Instantly, the electric beam revealed where she was. A cellar. Her breath hung in the air like a ghost as she whirled around, throwing light onto the jagged stones and rows of bottles around her.

"Knew it." Muttered Ashley, "I told them to check the scanner, check everything, make sure we had a back-up generator, but of course not." She dug out her cell and pressed Sophia's name.

Something about the room felt familiar. It had the same shape and size as the archives back at teh museum. Even the arched ceiling, which Sophia'd been informed during her orientation tour had been built in the late 17th century, looked almost identical. But instead of rows upon rows of shelves and storage, there were caskets, barrels, wineskins, glass bottles, some shabby furniture… nothing looked modern. She might as well have landed in Jane Austen's basement.

"… Hello?" she squeaked. Nothing but her own voice came back to her. Yet the beam on her phone found some wooden stairs leading up to a door…

With her third attempt yielding nothing but the automated "We're sorry, service does not seem to be available in your area at this time..." selected the flashlight option, to her annoyance,she noted that the pile of letters had fallen to the floor with her, slipping her gloved finger tips beneath them as gently as possible, she set them back on the table.

The table was several inches shorter than usual, and made of mahogany instead of worn stainless steel. Was this someone's idea of a joke? When had they switched it? She aimed the beam at the rest of the room. The flooring was the same, the windows but--since when had they decided to start storing the portraits here?

Outside the door, she heard voices...

Sophia closed her eyes to regain her bearings, sucking in a deep breath between her teeth. This didn't look good. She'd probably been kidnapped. The movie version of her abduction played out in her mind. Some seedy man must have been waiting in the archives for her — bashed her over the head and slipped her some drugs to make her forget, then dragged her off to his basement. How many times had she read news articles about girls who had been ripped off the street and holed up in an otherwise unassuming house ?

The only thing to do was to try to escape, then. She wasn't tied up, everything else on her person seemed okay… she darted up the stairs and pushed open the door just a crack.

Voices with accents--but not British accents--or at least--not the kind she was used to--there was something off about them--they sounded...Australian almost? Not Scottish, even though Ashley had noticed several Scottish and Irish students in the program. But she was fairly sure they speaking English--but maybe with a foreign accent--maybe the museum was being burglarized by a gang of art thieves. She waited until the voices had faded down the hall before opening the door.

Sophia saw a massive fireplace, with something dangling amost within the flames. A very young woman, too young really to be poking and turning whatever was in the fire. Two men were assembling some white creamy substance in tiny dishes and cutting fruit on a table beside the fire. The scene was silent other than the crackling fireplace, until suddenly the man cutting fruit burst out with a swear. The girl at the fire shot them a disgusted look, while the two men began to bicker and yammer in an accent Sophia's ear was unaccustomed to hearing so fast. The men left the room with their dishes, the the girl followed them. Sophia took a deep breath and exited the doorway, then darted across the kitchen floor to find herself confronted with a long hallway. Where to go?

Ashley fumbled with knob awkwardly--had they done something to those too--before slowly easing the door open. There was faint light in the hallway. Dim, but enough to make out the details.

The child sized harpsichord was gone. The walls were lined with portraits, and covered in a peculiar wallpaper. But--she whirled around--it was the same hall--it had to be, the exact same size--the molding along the ceiling. She heard voices again, rapid footsteps, and a figure dashed across the far end of the hallway, not even stopping to take notice of her, she caught the word "quick" and "kitchen!"

Sophia paced down the long hallway, still in a trance-like state… maybe her kidnapping theory was wrong… maybe she'd been abducted and put on the set of a period drama by her professor to test her survival skills. It was the only thought she had.

Her eyes squinted in the half-light, when she spotted another figure down the hallway. It was unmistakeably her friend, Ashley. Sophia nearly sprinted down the hall and embraced her friend. "Oh my gosh, I can't — you — what is going on???"

"I don't know--it looks like something happened to the museum. Maybe this is some kind of huge prank--they were talking about restoring it to the way it looked in the 18th century--but I never thought they'd do it over night." Ashley gestured toward an ornate mirror over a Louis XV style table. "Where'd they even get the budget for this?"

"A prank? That would be really extreme. And I felt like I was drugged or something! Did you nearly black out or something too?" Sophia whispered frantically. "We should get out of here!"

"Well what else could it be? Why would they redecorate the museum?" Ashley hissed exasperated. "Hang on, you blacked out too?"

"Or something…" Sophia put a hand to her forehead. Nothing was making sense - none of the logical ideas, anyway. "Listen - we have to find a place to sit down and figure out what is going on, otherwise someone's gonna find us. I already saw some people, dressed up like Jane Austen or whoever."

"Oh please," Ashley rolled her eyes, "what are they doing, hosting Renfaire--I mean, Regency Fair here? Let's go talk to them." She started down the hall.

Sophia followed along, nervous for some reason at the idea of just going up and talking to them - maybe out of embarrasment? But regardless, they needed to get to the bottom of this somehow.

They paused when they reached the end of the hallway, they could hear more voices engaged in conversation, and the clink of dishes. Ashley suddenly remembered that the large south facing room had been used for dining throughout most of the house's history. There was a loud crash that made them both jump about a foot. And several loud exclamations. When the voices had settled down, she could hear one still saying "Again begging pardon sir, I'll see to it the boy doesn't do it again."

Now, peering around the corner, Ashley saw a middle aged portly fellow in a powdered wig and plain coat, the garb of a servant, emerge from the dining room, tugging a little black boy by the hand, who wore a turban and vivid outfit of red and gold. "Man--" she whispered to Sophia, "they are tackling orientalism, like they said they would for the next exhibit but talk about taking it to the next level, I can't believe they're going there with--"

She broke off as she watched the man take up a walking stick propped against the wall, and strike the boy in the face several times.

Sophia started, unable to move, unable to register what she just saw. She grabbed Ashley's arm and squeezed, feeling like she was about to fall over, and shoved her back around the corner. "… Did we just really see that?" Her face crumpled a little as she tried to control her tears. "This is totally crazy. Where are we…?"

"Let's go." Ashley whispered, "C'mon, hurry." They hustled back down the hall. "In here." She opened the door that still bore the words STAFF ONLY in her mind's eye, and hauled Sophia inside after her. Both girls illuminated their phones.

"Okay… this is a really really weird idea," Sophia began, catching her breath. She closed her eyes and frowned. "What if we… somehow… went back in time." She opened her eyes and winced at the bizarre thought.

"That's not--that's not as completely crazy as I would've thought..." Ashley swallowed, then sunk to the floor, crossing her legs, "That would explain,...all this,..." she waved the phone around, briefly casting a light over the portraits, carved mahogany furniture and embroidered silk draperies. "It's still the same place, I mean, I can tell, the exact same number of steps down the hall--the doors and the lights and windows--but there's no way they could've done all this so quickly."

"So… what should we do?" Sophia sat down next to her and turned her phone's light off. "Assuming we're not crazy, and assuming this time travel idea is true … because I don't have a better explanation."

"Well we're going to need clothing...and we have to get out of here--after we get clothes." Ashley began crawling across the floor, "Turn your phone back on!"

"What? Why? I don't want anyone to see us." Sophia turned the light back on. "Where are we supposed to get clothes from??"

"There's a wardrobe over there--and some trunks. Let's see if they have anything." She staggered to her feet and wrenched open the wardrobe doors first revealing...a row of what looked like saggy white nightgowns "Here!" Ashley tossed them at Sophia. "There's got to be more! Wait--look!" After some desperate fumbling she managed to pull open one of the drawers set in the bottom half of the wardrobe.

Sophia sighed as a nightgown flew towards her head. Were they really about to do this? "Is anything else in there? I can't wear this! People will think we're indecent!"

"Um, there's this look--look--" Ashley pulled out something that boasted lace trim and brilliant embroidery it's a--it's for men."

"Oh great." Sophia rolled her eyes. "So… you can dress up as George Washington?"

"No! Let's think...there's another one." Ashley took a deep breath. "Here, see if it fits you."

Sophia took the coat and quickly put it over her own clothes. It was far too tight in the shoulders, but it would have to do for now. "Do you really think this is going to work….?"

"No! Put the white dress on first! Then the coat, then we take off our shoes and put them in our backpacks." Ashley glanced toward the window. "Then we sneak out."

Sophia went into a dark corner and quickly changed. The situation hadn't really improved as she was concerned, except now she felt even more ridiculous than she had when she had on all her clothes. "These white nightgowns are pretty thin. People are still going to think we've escaped form the crazy house."

"Which is why we have to go. The window's locked but maybe we can get out the servant's entrance."

"Okay… oh geez…" Sophia went pale, "What if we do get captured… thrown into jail… 18th century jails…" She shuddered. "Please, Ashley, let's not do anything crazy and just get out of here." She sounded a little panicked as she slung her backpack over her shoulder.

"It'll be fine." Picking up her backpack, Ashley headed toward the door. "We might have to wait till the household goes to bed. Because I think most of the servants are still in the kitchen."

Sophia sighed. "Okay… but um, what should we do until then? Maybe we should come up with some sort of story… didn't people used to have like, letters of introduction and stuff?" She sat back down, scratching her hair.

"OK we're two girls....who are studying abroad...no that won't work..." Ashley ran her hand through her hair. "We're both orphans...and friends. After we came to London we became lost..."

"Came from where? Wait — maybe we should be daughters of some nobility or something, that'll get us at least hopefully out of being a scullery maid or something…"

"Would nobility be dressed like this?" Ashley gestured at herself. "We'll say um, we can say we lost most of our clothing, except for um...part of a riding habit.

"Well if we're orphans —" Sophia gasped suddenly. "Have you seen Marie Antoinette? Maybe our parents got guillotined and we ran away before that could happen to us!"

"Hang on--we don't even know what year it is!" Ashely flung up her hands in exasperation. "First of all we've got to agree on where we're from and then--"

There was a knock at the door.

Sophia froze, her eyes darting towards the door. Then back at Ashley, whose face she could dimly make out. There wouldn't be a knock, if someone didn't think that people were in this room. She sat stock still, praying that the door wouldn't open.

Another knock.

Sophia didn't move, but she hissed to Ashley, "What do we do?"

"Under the bed." She hurled herself toward the dim shape against the far wall. Just as the door opened.

"Julia is that you?" They both froze in place as the door swung open to reveal a young man holding a candle

Sophia held her breath, watching the shoes of the young man pace around the bed. The candle cast a warm circle of light on the buckles of the shoes, which seemed way too close for comfort. She tucked her hands under her chest and glanced at Ashley.

"Julia? The guest room is for sleeping, not hiding." They could just barely make out the shape of buckled shoes advancing into the room.

Sophia glanced at Ashley, not sure what to do. As long as they were silent, they wouldnt' be found. But, fortunately, everyone was still speaking English, so they hadn't wound up in some foreign country…

"Julia!" The footsteps reached the bed, "Why on earth did you leave--" The voice broke off abruptly. As they watched, the figure dropped to his knees and began rummaging.

Through a backpack.

Sophia's eyes popped as she watched the hands search the contents of the backpack, disturbingly close to her head. The candle was set down to the floor, casting light right under the bed. What was he going to think? There wasn't any rational explanation for any of this. They were doomed.

"Whatever..." The young man, so far Ashley could see that he was young, male and caucasian, judging by the lace at his wrist and rich colors of his clothing he was probably not a servant. She tried to remember where she had left her backpack...

Sophia squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch any more of this. It was only a matter of time until they were discovered and she didn't want to be drawn and quartered when they were.

A new brilliant light with a blue tint flooded the room. Now he had the phone, after a moment of study, he put it aside, next pulling out a brochure for the Handel concert.


Sophia didn't see any of this as her eyes were closed. All she could hear was her breath in slow, tense spurts, and the pounding of her heart in her ears.

There was a sound at the door, "Joshua? What are you doing?" It was a young woman's voice.

"Catherine! I was looking for you! Look at this! Remember the concert we went to this morning? And those billets they had drawn up, and how I'd said they could've done a better job with the engravings? Well look at this! Remarkable, I've never seen such delicacy in the print..."

"Come on, the dance is about to begin. Put that down!" Lighter steps trod towards the young man, and he was pulled to his feet.

"The clarity of the details - it's as though someone had painted on the actual paper, but it was completely smooth. And the color!"

"Yes, yes, come along now. You must have found one of little Caro's drawings. " The two left the room, along with the candle light, and their voices faded in the distance.

With a great heaving sigh, Sophia let out her breath and opened her eyes. "That was close…"

"Too close." Ashley began to wriggle out from under the bed. Her mind still felt as it if had been fractured and scattered in a million directions, but she had clung to a few phrases. "Did you hear what he said about Caro--that must be Caroline--and I think the only 18th century Caroline that lived in this house would've been about--the 1770s--or 80s."

Sophia followed her out, checking over the contents of the backpack. "Wait - how do you know that?"

Ashley paused at stared at her puzzled "The plaque--the one by the visitors center, with the family tree and the list of donors?"

Sophia colored, as she paused and then admitted, "Uhh… I've never read that. What did it say, please?"

"What?!" She struggled to keep her voice low, "It talks about like all the people who lived here since the house was built," Ashley lowered her voice, " They tended to name their grandchildren after each other, there was a Caroline in like 1830 who was the grand-niece of the first one? Then she had a grand-daughter who was born in 1899 or something. Then she insisted on staying in her house even when the Blitz happened, and she was the one who donated the house when she died in 1980-something

"Uh… okay, so we could be in 1830, 1899, or 1980." Sophia rolled her eyes. "That's not very inconclusive." She shook her head. "So… now what? If there's a dance, or some party going on, people could be up until the crack of dawn."

"If there's enough noise, perhaps we could slip out. But we can't leave anything behind." Ashley finished stuffing items in the backpack.

"Wait a moment - if they're having a party, maybe we could just blend in?" said Sophia. "Maybe they wouldn't even notice us."

"With these outfits? Are you crazy? And what happens when they ask us who we are? Here, I think this must be your backpack."

Sophia took the bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Okay… where should we go? I mean, presumably we're still in London…"

"We need to find an inn..then figure out--figure out how to get back home..." Ashley's voice trailed off.

Suddenly the door burst open and in entered the man who had been digging through the backpack earlier, candle in his hand. "It was in here! One moment!" he was yelling over his shoulder. "Ah!" he exclaimed, looking back into the room. And directly at Sophia and Ashley.

But far from shocked or phased, he simply seemed just… amused? "Where on earth have you been hiding all evening? In here?" He came towards them, nearly tripping on a rug in the darkness. A glass sloshed in his hand. "Oh, gracious. Forgive me. Still doing your toilette, I see." With an ungraceful turn, he winked at them. "I don't think we have danced yet tonight, so do come out, and I won't tell anyone." With that he left.

"Was he drunk?" Ashley was rooted to the floor. "I think he thought we were just...undressed. Was that the guy who was just in here?"

There was another knock at the door. Sophia startled, but prayed that whoever it was would be just as inebriated as the other man.

"Begging your pardon, but Mrs. Wyatt sent me to see if you ladies needed any help," said a young female voice from behind the door.

"Oh well that's--ever so kind of you, but no, no thank you. We're fine." Ashley curtsied quickly and found hersef trying to affect a posh British accent.

The maid appeared puzzled. "Mrs. Wyatt says she hopes you will join the dance, if you are not too fatigued from your journey."

"I'm sorry, but my friend is a bit uh, crazy." Sophia jabbed Ashley in the ribs. She, too, found herself putting on a voice she hoped sounded like Keira Knightley from Pride and Prejudice, but it verged on Australian junkie at times. "We do need some help. That's why we haven't been out yet. You see, our clothes got really dirty from our - um - journey and, do you know if we could maybe borrow anything…?"

The maid blinked. "Oh, I see. I shall ask Mrs. Wyatt. Perhaps something of Miss Cassandra's would fit the both of you."

"There's no need to trouble Mrs Wyatt herself." Ashley said hastily, "Or Miss Cassandra, if you could just bring a few things here..."

"Yes ma'am." The maid curtsied and was out the door in a moment.

She stared at Sophia. "Do you actually plan to borrow the clothing?"

Sophia shrugged. "What else should we do? We can't go to the party in these clothes! And its the easiest way out of here. Once the party is over, we leave, and never see anyone ever again!"