Page 17 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time (To Fall Through Time #1)

T he next morning, Selene breakfasts alone as she’s come to expect. She has no memory of Dorian heading to his bedroom. She didn’t hear him come up. He works far too hard, and she far too little. It has never bothered her before.

With Marta for company, she heads into town.

The streets smell of fresh bread and tilled earth, and the sound of merchants calling their wares fills the air.

She stops at a fabric shop, running her fingers over bolts of linen and cotton before settling on a length of soft cornflower-blue fabric.

Simple, unassuming—something she can wear comfortably without fuss.

At Greta’s, she lays the fabric on the counter, explaining her request. She wants something similar to what the village girls wear, but with a few embellishments expected for a lady of her station. Greta measures her with care, clicking her tongue over old gowns that need altering.

Afterward, Selene picks up fresh pastries and a small wheel of cheese, thinking of lunch with Dorian. If he has the time. If he remembers to eat at all.

She’s most surprised, when they head back to the village, to find someone already in the parlour.

Ariella runs forward to greet her. “My mother is here for a visit,” she explains. “I can make excuses if you don’t want to—”

But Selene finds herself eager to meet any of Dorian’s relatives, even more so when she realises that Dorian is in the parlour too. She hands her coat and hat to Marta and heads into the room.

Elizabeth Everfrost is a woman in her early sixties with dark red hair streaked with grey.

She’s well-dressed for a former housekeeper, looking more like a lady of leisure with a fashionable hat in deep emerald and matching jacket.

She surveys Selene with the air of someone weighing goods at market and her sharp eyes seem to pierce right through any pretence.

“So, you’re the new wife, are you?” she says, not unkindly, glancing at Dorian. “Far too pretty for him.”

Dorian’s ears redden. “Yes, thank you so much, Aunt Elizabeth, for pointing that out.”

Selene blinks, startled by both the bluntness of the woman’s remark and Dorian’s dry response.

“How on Haverland’s great green fields did he convince you to marry him?”

“Oh, um, well—” Selene has no idea whether or not Dorian wants to be honest with her, or if it’s even safe to.

Three people already seems too many. They cannot afford to become the subject of gossip, to have anyone peer too closely at their hasty marriage.

“Dorian has many fine qualities—” Selene begins, determined to counter whatever assumptions Aunt Elizabeth is making.

“Oh yes? What are they?”

Selene opens her mouth to reply but falls short.

It’s not that she hasn’t noticed his good qualities, it’s just that she’s so on the spot, and she’s deeply aware that it’s hard to gush about someone who feels like a stranger.

And she’s definitely expected to gush. When she was first enamoured with the Duke, she could wax lyrical about his qualities.

Handsome, charming, generous, a great hunter, a fine dancer. Deep singing voice.

“That’s what I thought,” says Aunt Elizabeth.

Selene regathers herself, taking a moment to collect a cup of tea. “I was merely considering which of his virtues to highlight first,” she says, a touch archly. “You see, I am spoiled for choice.”

Aunt Elizabeth snorts. “Oh, a diplomat. You’ll do well enough.” She turns to her nephew. “What do you have to say for yourself? This poor girl can’t even name a single thing she likes about you.”

Dorian meets Selene’s gaze across the table, only for a moment. He quickly drops it. “It’s early days yet,” he says smoothly. “She’ll find something eventually.”

Selene is not sure if that was meant to be reassuring or vaguely threatening. Aunt Elizabeth only hums in response and reaches for a scone.

Ariella, clearly sensing the need for a diversion, rises. “Shall I bring up something more substantial for luncheon, or will you be taking your leave soon, Mama?” The offer sounds more threatening than welcoming.

Selene remembers her purchases from earlier. “Actually, I brought something for lunch, if Dorian has the time to join us. ”

Aunt Elizabeth’s gaze sharpens. “You have to remind him to eat, do you? That does sound about right.”

Dorian sighs, but there’s a faint quirk to his lips. “I do occasionally remember on my own, Aunt.”

“Hmm. And yet I recall the time I found you half-fainting in the library because you’d forgotten for two days straight.”

Selene raises an eyebrow, amused despite herself. “Two days?”

Dorian sighs again, this time with more put-upon patience. “I was very focused.”

Aunt Elizabeth gives her a knowing look. “You see what you’re dealing with, my dear?”

Selene is beginning to. “Has he always been so dedicated to his work?”

“He’s always been so foolhardy, that’s what he’s been.”

“It is entirely possible to say something nice about him, you do know,” says a cool voice from the shadows.

Selene squeaks. Soren. She’d quite forgotten he had a voice at all. Had he been standing there the entire time?

Aunt Elizabeth laughs. “Sit down, Soren, my boy, you’re clearly spooking the lady.”

Soren’s lips are thin as razor, and the glare in his eyes is just as sharp. Nevertheless, he does as Aunt Elizabeth asks, though he chooses a seat as far away from her—and Selene—as he can.

Aunt Elizabeth immediately begins by asking more about Selene. She’s keen to hear about her family, her life back in the city, how she’s finding the village and precisely how scandalised her parents were.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Selene confirms. “I left in the middle of the night.”

“Scandalous!” Aunt Elizabeth returns. “Good girl.”

The talk begins to feel less like an interrogation and more like a conversation, although Dorian seems very relieved when Rookwood and Ariella arrive with the lunch. He leaps up to help them set it down.

“Elizabeth!” Rookwood exclaims, opening his arms to envelope her in a big bear hug. “How lovely to see you!”

Elizabeth seems only too happy at the greeting, although Ariella purses her lips.

Everyone sits down, handing out plates, passing down the refreshments. It’s like a picnic indoors. Only Marta seems to see anything unusual with this mixing of servants and staff, hanging by the side of the room like she has no idea where to put herself. She and Selene exchange glances.

“Marta, do sit down,” says Dorian. “There’s no need to stand. Please, help yourself.”

Marta does so, but only after making up a plate for Selene. No one else stands on ceremony.

The pastries and cheese are delicious, as are the cakes, the apples and preserves.

But it’s the company that Selene finds truly delicious.

Everyone has abandoned all proprietary, but they’re all…

happy. Rookwood has sunk deep into his chair, stretching out his leg.

Aunt Elizabeth is cackling over some joke he’s made.

Marta is smiling as she chats to Ariella, and even Soren seems less tense than he usually is, though he sits straight-backed in his chair, like he expects to be attacked at any moment.

Someone sits down beside her on the settee. “I hope you don’t mind this,” says a soft voice—Dorian. “I know it might feel a little… odd.”

“On the contrary, I think I rather like it,” Selene remarks, although she still feels a little out of place, not sure what to say. “Your aunt is very forthright.”

“I apologise for her bluntness—”

“I am starting to find that I don’t mind bluntness as much as I thought I did,” Selene tells him. “There’s something refreshing about it. I don’t like… I know we have to be careful ab out who we trust with the truth of our relationship, but… I don’t like lies.”

“I know.”

“Even concealing the truth feels like a lie sometimes,” she admits. Selene is concealing so many things, it’s a relief to be able to be honest, even if it’s just for a moment, just a little thing.

Dorian’s voice is quiet. “I understand that, too.”

“You two, newlyweds!” Aunt Elizabeth barks. “Do you wish to join us for a game of cards?”

Dorian looks less than keen, but he consents when Selene voices her enthusiasm, and the group move to the table closer to the window.

Marta, Ariella and Soren disappear to deal with the dishes, but the remaining four members of the party settle in for a game of Whist. Selene is paired with Dorian of course.

She’s not a terrible player, and finds herself winning several tricks.

“Beauty and brains, I see,” Aunt Elizabeth remarks. “An impressive combination.”

No one has ever complimented Selene’s brains before. She’s been reliably informed on a number of occasions—largely by the Duke—that she wasn’t in possession of any. “That’s very kind, but it’s also untrue,” Selene tells her. “I’m just lucky.”

“No need to be modest around me, dear.” She leans across to Dorian. “Did you say you used to go to school with her? She’s not the one you had a crush on, is she?”

Dorian says nothing to this, and stares back at their cards.

It’s a jolly fine afternoon, all in all. Selene is disappointed when Elizabeth voices her intention to depart. It’s the easiest she’s felt in… well, she isn’t sure. She can’t remember the last time she felt easy.

“Do please come again,” Selene says, though she knows Elizabeth is the sort to come whenever she fancies.

“I shall indeed, my girl, and feel free to call on me too. These ones never seem to visit.”

“That’s because we’re busy, Mama!” Ariella hisses.

“Doing what? This place is filthy.”

Ariella’s face goes scarlet.

Selene walks Elizabeth to the door. Soren is waiting on the steps to escort her back to her house. Marta passes her her hat and coat. Selene leans in to wish her goodbye.

“You’re wrong, you know,” she says, when she’s sure no one can overhear her. “Dorian does have many fine qualities.”

His aunt snorts. It’s very unladylike, but Selene is certain she’s not bothered by that fact. “ I know that,” Elizabeth says. “Anyone who’s spent more than a few days with him knows that. I just wanted to see if you did.”

Selene finds her cheeks prickling, but she isn’t sure why. She bids Elizabeth farewell, and the door closes softly behind her.

She heads back to the parlour. Dorian has collapsed on one of the chairs. “Is she gone?” he asks through the hands covering his face.

“You like her and you know it,” Selene tells him.

“You can like someone and be infinitely aware of how much of a menace they are,” Dorian responds, still not moving. He opens his eyes, just a fraction. “How did you find her?”

“I rather enjoyed her company, I must admit.” She takes a seat not far from him. “Who was it that you had a crush on in school? ”

Dorian groans.

“Was it Esther? I bet it was Esther—”

The Honourable Esther Rochester is as bright and bookish as they come. Selene hasn’t heard from her in years. She imagines that’s just how Esther likes it.

Dorian removes his face from his hands and stares at her. “You… don’t know?”

“Should I?”

Dorian sits up and marches towards the door, avoiding all eye contact.

“Wait—Dorian!” Selene calls out, surprising herself with her boldness. “Was it me? ”

“It was a long time ago, Selene.”

“And your taste has much improved since then?”

Dorian pauses. Selene wonders if the jest was a step too far, if she’s offended him in some way. “It was a school boy crush, Selene,” he says eventually, “and you were very beautiful. Most of the boys had crushes on you at some point. Let it go. I do not wish to be teased.”

He disappears without another word.

Selene stares at the spot he’s vacated, trying not to read too far into his words and failing.

She doesn’t want to fixate on how he said she was beautiful, and finds herself both annoyed by the fact he hasn’t complimented her appearance, and annoyed by the fact that’s all anyone seems to like about her.

She wants to be more than beautiful, or at least be seen as something more than decorative, but she does not know how to be more. She’s not sure she even really knows how to be her.