Mina snorted in a very unladylike manner. “As if you didn’t notice him staring at you.”
“Teddy certainly noticed,” Deirdre said. “If you’re trying to make him jealous, it is already working.”
“Why would I want to make Teddy jealous?”
“So he will propose marriage sooner.” Mina’s exasperated expression was the Regency version of a twenty-first century “Duh!”
“I …” Eleanor tried to think of a reason that Ellen would not want to rush into marrying Teddy. “We hardly know each other anymore. To be truthful, I’m not in a hurry to get married.”
“You’re not getting any younger,” Deirdre pointed out as she plopped her bonnet on her head and tied a bow under her left ear. “Twenty-six is not completely on the shelf, but it’s getting uncomfortably close to old maid status, or in your case, old matron.”
Eleanor hid a smile. What would the girls say if they knew she was actually twenty-eight? True, her biological clock was ticking, but she could ignore it a little while longer.
“And we’re not getting any younger either,” Mina added. “You remember Letticia Wilson who was a year ahead of Deirdre at Miss Southerland’s Academy? No? Well, she was six years behind you, so that’s to be expected. The point is Letticia has already been presented, married, and produced an heir. We are still waiting for our Season. Once you and Teddy are married, you can sponsor us—I hope before we are both on the shelf, too.”
“He said he planned to take you to London in the spring.”
“Teddy promises that every year, but something more important always comes up and prevents us from going,” Deirdre said.
“We’re counting on you to make certain that doesn’t happen again,” Mina said.
“I’m not sure I—”
“We’ll have to discuss this later,” Deirdre said. “Right now, we have guests waiting.”
“Oh my, yes.” Mina wrapped a light shawl around her shoulders and let it fall to her elbows.
“I’ll come down in a few minutes,” Eleanor promised.
“Take whatever time you need. In fact, why don’t you take a nice long nap, so you’ll be well rested for dinner?” Mina added as they exited.
Eleanor waited until she heard their voices trail down the hall, then she slipped into her bedroom and closed the door.
“All right, you two mischievous ghosts, we need to talk.” The low volume of her voice did not lessen its commanding tone. “Time for you to make an appearance.”
No response.
She pulled the desk chair to the middle of the room, sat down, and folded her arms. “I’m not leaving until you show yourself.”
“Do you think we should let her know we’re here?” Mina said so that only her sister could hear.
“She doesn’t appear to need our help,” Deirdre said. “At least not yet. We did promise we’d leave her alone.”
“Come on, you guys.” Eleanor had to force her voice to remain strong. “I know you’re here.” Purely a bluff, but she sensed their presence. A feeling like when a word is beyond your grasp, but you know it’s there somewhere. “Energize. Manifest. Whatever it is you do to appear, do it now.”
What would she do if they weren’t there? How would she get back to her own time? “Mina? Deirdre?”
“Maybe we should tell her—”
“No. Our word is our bond.”
Eleanor stood and paced the room. “I said I’d like to go back in time, but that was when I didn’t think it was possible.” She turned and headed back toward the window. Her steps slowed. “Okay, okay, we made a deal. And you’ve done your part—or at least the first step. I remember what I said I would do for you, but surely you can’t expect to hold me to a promise based on wishful thinking. Let’s just call the whole thing off. I’d really like to go back now.”
She stopped and closed her eyes, waiting for the room to spin. On second thought she sat in the chair. “I’m ready.”
Nothing happened.
Maybe she needed to be in the bed. She jumped up, climbed onto the feather mattress, and plopped into a prone position. “There’s no place like home,” she whispered and clicked her heels together three times for good measure. Nothing happened. “Beam me up? Abracadabra? Please?”
Still nothing.
Apparently, there were no magic words.
Chapter Four
“Fine.” Eleanor rose from the bed and stomped back to a post by the window. Her mind awhirl, she absently watched the servants set up the croquet course on the south lawn. So the ghosts were sticklers to the conditions of the deal. Apparently, the only way home was to complete her task.
She reached up and held the necklace as she often did in times of stress. The amber cross was a connection to her grandmother who had believed anything was possible as long as you followed your dream and worked hard.
“Okay, I will try to keep the two of you out of Shermont’s way—I mean, the live versions of you,” she clarified, since she was talking to the ghosts. At least she hoped she was talking to them.
She’d committed herself without the slightest idea of how she would make it happen. She took a deep breath and exhaled. What would Jane Austen do? Probably something proactive, even though she wouldn’t have used that word.
The fastest way to accomplish her task was to confront Shermont directly. As Eleanor changed into walking boots, she wondered what she would say. Should she threaten him with something drastic if either girl’s reputation was ruined?
That tactic hadn’t been successful previously. Even the possibility of a deadly duel had not deterred him. Perhaps she could find something interesting in the paper to induce him to return to London. Worth a try, but since she’d just met the man, she had no idea what he would find fascinating. She’d have to wing it.
Eleanor picked up her bonnet and shawl. She paused at the door. “In return, I expect you to keep the second part of the bargain. Jane Austen had better be at this ball, and I had better get an introduction. And just so you know, I don’t think it’s fair not to tell me which one of you I need to protect.”
She didn’t bother to wait for a response she knew wasn’t coming. Instead she headed downstairs, planning to stop in the library for a peek at the latest newspaper. After that, she intended to confront Lord Shermont.
Eleanor rushed down the stairs and grabbed the ornate newel post for balance as she made a sharp left turn toward the library. She nearly ran into Teddy as he exited carrying a sheaf of papers.
He flashed an angelic grin. “May I hope your eagerness is for my company?”
“I’m looking for a newspaper,” she blurted out.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Ah … I’ve been away so long I was hoping to catch up on current events.”
Not exactly a lie.
“Uncle Huxley requested the newspaper, but I’m sure we can locate a Godey’s or Home Companion for you to read. I am at your service.”
As much as she would enjoy reading either and would especially love to look at the latest fashions, that indulgence would have to wait. A woman’s magazine was unlikely to help in her quest for an item to entice Shermont to return to London. She shook her head. “Perhaps later. Have you seen Lord Shermont?”
“What is it about him? Five years ago no one had even heard of him, and now every female under the age of eighty has set her cap for him.”
“I have not set my cap for him.”
“See there, Digby. Your theory has been disproved.”
Eleanor whirled around to see Shermont lounging against the doorjamb of the entrance to the library. Speak of the devil.
“Either that or Mrs. Pottinger is older than she looks.” Shermont eyed her from head to toe. When his gaze returned to her face, he grinned and winked.