peculiar to you—that it
would take me years to explain it all. Oh, brother. I can’t believe
we’re having this conversation. I was sure I’d wake up this morning
back in 1992. Rose blew that theory straight to hell when she
showed up in my room with hot chocolate and a chamber pot. Thank
God she told me about the new ‘water closet’ you’ve had installed.
I quit the Girl Scouts because of the outhouses at summer camp. I’m
just not the back-to-nature type. Of course, if I’m going to be
lost in time, I guess I should consider myself lucky. I could just
as easily have landed in prehistoric times, or popped up as the
only female on a Greek freighter. Oh, God, Marcus, stop me. I’m
babbling again.”
Marcus nodded, then rose and walked to a
corner of the room where he pulled a cord, summoning one of the
servants who must have been camped just outside the door. “Coffee
for two, please,” he ordered, dismissing the servant before
returning to sit in front of Cassandra once more. “You do have
coffee in your time, don’t you? Many of our ladies prefer tea, but
somehow I believe you might drink coffee. Perhaps I should write
that information down as well. For Perry’s sake, you understand. I
believe he harbors the thought that people in your time dine
exclusively on chocolate and other delicacies. Spent most of last
night telling me he thought he might enjoy living in such an
enlightened age.”
Cassandra smiled weakly and then nodded,
aware that he was giving her time to collect her thoughts. “Thank
you, Marcus,” she said, in appreciation of both his offer of coffee
and his kindness. She leaned forward, searching through the items
on the desk top until she found a small tin of aspirin. “These are
for pain,” she said, opening the tin. “I have a headache and I’m
going to take two of these tablets when the coffee gets here. Don’t
try to talk me out of it, okay?”
“I wouldn’t dream of such a thing,” Marcus
answered. “Are you going to take one of the other tablets as well?
You should, you know. The literature I read on the printed paper
points out that you are to take the tablets religiously until they
are finished.”
Cassandra’s laugh was more of a sniff. “Oh,
yes, Marcus, you’re right. After all, you never know when I might
decide to jump one of the footmen. We modern women are real
animals.” She knew she was at the end of her cycle and that the
remaining pills were all placebos, but didn’t think she owed the
marquess that much of an explanation.
“You’re angry again,” the marquess pointed
out needlessly. “Women of your time must be extremely volatile. I
suggest that if we are ever to hope for a pleasant association we
get this matter of morals out of the way. Now, please, Cassandra,
tell me about the tablets.”
Before Cassandra could speak, the servant
returned, placed a heavy silver tea service on a nearby table, then
retired. Marcus quickly poured them each a cup of coffee, inquired
as to whether or not she took cream, and then placed a cup in front
of her. “Take your time, Cassandra. After all, we may have years
and years together in which to discuss everything.”
“Years and years. Gee, thanks for cheering me
up, Marcus,” Cassandra said bitterly, downing two aspirin with a
sip of hot coffee. “That’s just the sort of news to make a girl
want to jump right up and dance.” Replacing the cup in the saucer,
she looked piercingly at the marquess, gauging his ability to
understand what she had to say. “All right,” she said at last.
“Let’s talk about women in my time. As I’ve already told you,
things are a lot different. We can go to college. We live away from
home —without chaperons. We work as teachers, politicians,
secretaries, doctors, police officers, lawyers—solicitors, to
you—why, I even have a friend who’s training to be an astronaut,
not that you’d know what that is. In short, we can do anything a
man can do—backward, and in high