Free The Time Heiress by Georgina Young- Ellis

finery. Ladies paraded by in brightly colored gowns and feathered hats, accompanied by their stylish beaux or their families.
    A man in a long, narrowly cut frock coat stopped in front of her, a little girl clutching his hand. He was clean shaven, but with long side-burns. He sported a bow tie and a brocade vest with a watch chain; his trousers were pencil thin and his black boots shined. The girl was wearing a sparkling clean dress in a fashion that mimicked that of the grown ladies, but it was short and she had on pantalettes that showed beneath her frock, white stockings, and pink leather shoes.
    “Miss, do you need assistance?” he asked Evie.
    “I…don’t know…I—” She hesitated, remembering to correct her speech. “I do not know…I think I need a cab.”
    “Please, let me help you.” The man whistled for a passing coach that immediately stopped. “Where are you going, miss?” The man asked.
    “Waverly Place, the Dylan Hotel.”
    The driver nodded, and the man helped her in. “Do you have money?” he asked.
    “Yes.” She checked in her purse, although she knew she was equipped with plenty. “Yes, I will be fine. Thank you so much for your help.”
    “My pleasure.” He tipped his hat to her, and the little girl smiled. He closed the cab door and the driver clucked the horses forward.
    Evie sat back in the seat and tears sprang to her eyes. She took in Broadway as they drove, regretting the action that had made her leave the hotel so hastily that morning. She knew Cassandra must be worried.
    People seemed to be out walking simply to be seen. She watched them stop and greet one another, nodding and smiling, a stark contrast to where she had just been. She rode past photographers’ studios, clothing shops, milliners, tailors, shoemakers, booksellers, printers, and cabinet makers, all closed for Sunday. She saw signs for real estate and law offices, banks, tobacconists, clock and watch repair shops, candy stores, five and dimes, florists, restaurants, and entertainment halls. How could these totally different neighborhoods exist within just a few blocks of each other? Her New York of the future was nothing like this. The city was entirely civilized, quiet, and easy to get around in.
    Eventually the coach pulled up in front of the Dylan Hotel. She got out, paid the driver and made her way upstairs. When she opened the door to the suite, Cassandra leapt up off the parlor sofa and ran to her.
    “Evie, where have you been? You’ve been gone for at least two hours! What happened to you? You’re pale. Sit down.” She led her to the sofa.
    Evie sat down and looked up at Cassandra, eyes brimming with tears. “I tried to go to All Angels.”
    “But we decided—”
    “No, you decided!” she cried, her frustration turning to anger.
    She watched Cassandra’s face grown stern. “I am in charge of this trip, Evie. You need to listen to me or you could get yourself into serious trouble.”
    Unable to control the tears, Evie let them flow.
    Cassandra still stood over her, arms folded. “Tell me what happened,” she said with a cold edge to her voice.
    “I tried to find the church. I took a cab, but he took me to some mission in the Bowery that was also called All Angels.”
    “The Bowery? What do you mean the Bowery?”
    “It’s way downtown where my gallery is in the future. Around Chatham Street. It was disgusting and filthy and full of really poor people—I’ve never seen anything like it!”
    “Wait a minute, I will get a map.” Cassandra ran to her room and emerged a moment later with a small piece of thick paper on which was hand drawn a map of New York in 1853. “You have one of these too; why did you not take it?”
    Evie noticed that though Cassandra also slipped with her use of contractions when she was emotional, she had now returned to the correct way of speaking and Evie was reminded to do the same.
    “I forgot.”
    “Very well, let us have a look.” She took a seat near Evie.