Page 33 of Toni and Addie Go Viral

The Cape Dove carriage driver was already loading her very modern bag into one of the hansom cabs. At least they didn’t require historical luggage! The line between studying history and wanting to live in it wasn’t one Toni often crossed.

She looked longingly at the phaeton. That, however, could be an exception. She wanted to drive it, not sit idly at the driver’s side. Instead, she walked over to the hansom cab.

The carriage driver offered her a hand to steady herself as she climbed into the carriage, and this time, she accepted. Getting in and out of cars? That was easy enough, but carriages weren’t always as steady, what with the live animals at the front and the significant step up into the carriage.

“I’ll need to take you round back, miss. The back stairs are for those not already dressed for the event.”

“That’s fine.” Toni looked out at the few other early guests on the ground, searching for one particular woman, but also enjoying the rainbow effect of the women in Victorian dress.

What modern people would consider garish colors were popular in the 1800s.

While the 1840s had muted hues, those were followed by a rainbow of vibrant shades including oranges, red-violet, crimsons, emerald, and even iridescent dresses.

Decorations were as varied as bows and ostrich feathers, beads and tassels, ribbons and lace.

While none of it was Toni’s taste in clothes to wear, she certainly appreciated the rainbows of beauty that such a wide swath of time offered.

Several clutches of women were already in period dress, complete with hats with sumptuous feathers.

The event allowed 1845 to 1899 dress, so there would be considerable variety, and as a writer and historian, there was something lovely about seeing it—though she’d typically rather see it via streaming video.

Distant observer, that was the historian’s way.

If Toni wanted to immerse herself within a group, she’d have been an anthropologist.

Still, Toni took it all in as the hansom cab carried her toward the rather impressive manor.

She’d read enough to know that Cape Dove wasn’t strictly historically accurate.

It was a reproduction of a Victorian country manor, initially built in the Gilded Age by one of the ostentatiously wealthy men who dominated that era, but in recent years, it had been fitted with modern plumbing and, most likely, a very modern kitchen.

The lights and heat were visibly crafted to still look historical, but the house had the benefit of modern electricity, too.

In all, it was as Victorian in spirit as most Victorians had been in that the current facade was quite a bit removed from the truth.

The manor house was better suited for a bed-and-breakfast or hotel than the home for one couple, as it initially had been.

Enormous pillars, looking like they belonged on a Grecian temple, sat in front of the house like a statement of arrogant excess.

A structured garden outlined an oversized fountain, and a round drive snaked between fountain and house.

The entire scene looked like it could’ve been lifted from Toni’s book.

The driver drove the carriage down the long gravel drive, slowing briefly as they crossed directly in front of the enormous house.

The house itself had that Vanderbilt Gilded Age feel to it—complete with towering stone arches over the front windows and more architectural excess on the second level.

She could picture this as a setting for her series.

Then he drove around the back. He stopped at what looked like a servants’ entrance. Massive azaleas framed the steps to the door.

“It’s beautiful, innit?” the driver prompted as he helped her down, clearly expecting a level of gushing that wasn’t that far off from Toni’s thoughts.

She was, of course, a historian, and most of history was museums and documents—not actual costume events and carriages that were able to be touched.

She’d have to apologize to Emily. There was a distinct possibility Toni might actually enjoy this far more than she expected.

The idea of physically walking through history always left her contemplative.

If only there weren’t all the people!

“Very beautiful,” Toni admitted. “Obviously, the owners take care to create the illusion of stepping back in time.”

“That they do, miss. That they do. The inside is even more lovely.”

“And the carriages…” Toni shook her head. “What I wouldn’t give to take that phaeton out!”

He laughed. “The hansom turns beautifully, too. It’s a pleasure to drive them, but they don’t hire them out for guests.”

“Shame.”

A man dressed in green-and-gray livery—undoubtedly the uniform of the Cape Dove Manor—bowed and carried her bags inside.

Toni saw no option but to follow. She paused to take in the marble floor, the gilt ornamentation that accented the molding around the ceiling, and the immense crystal-and-bronze chandelier that glistened as if it were polished just that morning.

“Miss Darbyshire!” A fit woman wearing a sharp day dress approached as Toni stepped inside. The woman paused awkwardly at the sight of Toni’s modern dress, but then quickly smiled and said, “Welcome to Cape Dove Manor. I’m Lady Dove.”

“Thank you for the invitation.” Toni bowed her head, not overly deep, but enough to show respect to the feigned aristocracy. Strictly speaking, she didn’t need to bow, but it appeared that the proprietress of the manor was in character already.

“Will you be needing a lady’s maid for your dress?”

Toni heard the question under the question: Will you be wearing a dress? You appeared to have just bowed as a man would.

“I’ll be wearing a suit, Lady Dove. Period appropriate, of course.” Toni smiled and hoped that the answer was acceptable, all while silently cursing her publicist for not clarifying that detail in advance. “I’m ill-suited for corsets and gowns. You, however, look absolutely lovely.”

Lady Dove paused. “And will you be addressed as Lady Darbyshire or Lord?”

Toni relaxed at the question, which was as close to a Victorian version of asking her pronouns as possible. “Darbyshire is fine. No need to muddle the guests.”

“Will you take whisky with the gentlemen after dinner?” Lady Dove pressed, but it felt more like she was trying to avoid missteps than making a point.

“At least one night, but I prefer the company of the ladies… after dinner on the other.” Toni let the pause between words linger to make things as clear as she could without being vulgar.

Lady Dove laughed cheerily, and her Victorian persona slipped a little as she said, “Well, Darbyshire, if it’s the company of ladies you prefer, I suspect drinks with the men both nights would be the more appropriate choice, now, wouldn’t it? We don’t want any impropriety.”

Relieved by Lady Dove’s good spirit over Toni’s revelation, Toni grinned as if chastised. “Indeed, Lady Dove.”

“I’ll have Tomas take you to your room, then. He’ll be your valet. This is the 1800s, after all, and it wouldn’t do to have one of the lady’s maids put in a compromising position.”

At her word, a man, no older than twenty, appeared from another room up and said, “If you’ll follow me…”

“Darbyshire.” Lady Dove curtsied again and swept away, still smiling.

As Toni followed Tomas up the well-polished back stairs, slightly wider than servant’s stairs would be, Toni figured that this had worked out as well as it could, given the circumstances.

Her pronouns were she/her, but since she wasn’t going to bow to gender constraints by dressing in corsets and curls, she’d been socially sorted with the men for the weekend.

So be it.

At least it would be a statement to anyone wondering whether or not she was available to or interested in male attention.

The idea that this wasn’t addressed in advance was a bit awkward.

Her character was a woman who was solely interested in women, so it wasn’t that much of a stretch to think that Toni was “writing what she knew” on that front.

Obviously not every aspect of a novel was a case of “write what you know.” She was also writing about murder in the books, and she had no experience with that.

Her books were, in fact, fiction, but she wrote stories about a character she could relate to—a lesbian who sometimes felt ostracized by a society that wasn’t always sure what to do with her.

Stories, plural. I’m really writing another book, she thought. The second wasn’t yet finished, but it was getting closer. Who would’ve imagined that I’d pull off writing a second one, too?

Toni allowed herself a small smile of victory. Maybe the weekend could be a bit of holiday, a reward for working too many hours the last month or so. A bit of whisky and billiards sounded like a fine reprieve after dinner, and it paved the way for dancing with women at the Saturday evening ball.

Dancing with Addie, Toni’s libido filled in.

“Your room.” Tomas opened the door, bowed, and waited for her to enter.

While she took in the lavish room, Tomas hung her suit coats and trousers in the enormous mahogany wardrobe with a full mirror in the center of the three pieces. The bed, an equally heavy wooden antique, was an intricately carved French rococo piece with an embroidered footboard.

An ornate painted trifold divider hid a corner of the room. The design was decidedly Victorian; extremely crowded images of feathers and swirls that were vaguely fleurs-de-lis covered the material so thoroughly as to be clashing with themselves.

Tomas caught her gaze. “A dressing area for if a guest has a spouse who wishes privacy.”

He walked to the side of it and grasped the glass doorknob. “And your necessity room.” He paused awkwardly. “The house has modern plumbing, so the water no longer needs to be heated and brought up. And the”—he gestured at the toilet—“also is modern.”

“Marvelous.”

“Will there be anything else?” Tomas asked.

“Will someone call us to dinner or…?” Toni was peopled out already, and it was not yet mid-afternoon.

“The schedule.” He pointed to a packet on the nightside cabinet. “But if you need me to fetch you, I can.”

“ You specifically? Are you the only one on staff right now?”

“No.” He squirmed, and Toni wasn’t quite sure why until he recited, “‘Aristocracy without a lady’s maid or valet will be assigned one.’” He shrugged.

“You’re someone here, probably out there, too, if you’re who I think you are.

Novelist with a television adaptation. I was assigned to assist you in dressing, refreshments, answering questions, retrieving a book, or showing you to the library. ”

“I will not need help with my dressing—”

“Thank Victoria and Albert.” He grinned.

“Direction to the library later, but for now, all I require is a tea tray with hot chocolate or coffee or tea and a timely reminder when I need to dress.” Toni paused, not wanting to get him in trouble.

“And, you know, when no one’s around you don’t need to sound quite so much like we’re in the 1800s if you want. ”

“ Awesome. The job pays well, and tuition isn’t exactly free.…” He sighed and admitted, “I’m not great at the acting, though. Chem major, not history or drama.”

“History prof,” Toni said, pointing at herself. “I mean, the novelist part is true, but either way, I still would rather not sound like I live in the 1800s.”

He laughed, and somehow, Toni felt better. In a light tone, she said, “At least I was assigned the best valet.…”

“Ha! I’ll grab your tray, Darbyshire.”

Tomas left, and Toni kicked off her shoes. She had a few hours to relax before she had to be wearing both a Victorian-era persona and an author persona, and Toni was going to hide out in her room and relax for every possible moment.