They reached street level, walked to a door, and opened it.
“What the hell is going on here?” muttered Raven. “Where’s the city?”
He looked down the dirt street, past a few horse-drawn carriages, then turned to his companion.
“You’re Lisa again!” he exclaimed.
“I’m Elizabeth,” she replied.
He looked at his hands, which seemed normal, then felt his face.
“And I’m not a monster anymore!”
“You never really were,” she said.
“Still, it’s good to be Eddie Raven again!”
She shook her head. “You’re not, I’m afraid.”
He frowned, looked around for a mirror or something else that would reflect his image, saw a storefront window behind him, walked over to it, and stared.
“That’s me,” he said. “I just don’t wear these kinds of clothes.”
“Those are precisely what you wear,” she said.
“And you don’t wear high-necked floor-length dresses,” he continued.
“I most certainly do.”
“What the hell is going on?” demanded Raven. “Where the hell are we?”
“We are in Meryton, in Hertfordshire,” she replied, “and please watch your language. You’re starting to attract stares, Mister—”
“It’s Eddie,” he interrupted her. “We’ve been through too much together to be so formal.”
“Actually, it’s Fitzwilliam,” she said. “But it’s far more proper for me to call you Mr. Darcy.”
Where have I seen or heard those names before? thought Raven. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth . . . Elizabeth who? He shut his eyes for a moment and concentrated. Son of a bitch! It’s Elizabeth Bennet, and we’re living in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice!
“Suddenly you look happy,” she said.
“That’s because I’ve figured out who and where we are,” he replied.
“I didn’t know it was a mystery.”
“There are bigger mysteries than that,” he said. “At least I don’t have to solve them while I’m Frankenstein’s monster or its near cousin.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Darcy.”
“Not to worry, Elizabeth,” he replied. “As long as I know.” He noticed her frowning. “What’s the problem?”
“You should address me as Miss Bennet.”
“My mistake,” he said. “How about if I just call you Lisa?”
She frowned and made no reply.
“No, huh?” he said.
She turned and looked at the public building behind them, and half smiled. “I think you left all your manners on the other side of that door, Mr. Darcy.”
“So I take it you don’t want to call me Eddie either?”
She simply stared at him in silence.
“I thought not,” he said. He looked up and down the street, frowning.
“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Darcy?”
“Same as usual,” he replied. “Trying to figure out how to get home from here.”
“What is the matter with you, Mr. Darcy?”
“You got a pen and a thick notepad?” he responded.
“Does this pass for humor among London’s fashionable set?” she asked.
“God, I hope not,” said Raven. He sighed, looked around at what appeared to be the very small town, and turned back to her. “So may I walk you home, Miss Bennet?”
“All four miles?” she replied.
“Why don’t I hire a carriage?”
“Didn’t you bring your own carriage, or at least your horse?” she asked. “Your estate is some two hundred miles farther out in the country than mine.”
Think of a good answer, Eddie, he told himself. She’s already got her doubts about you. Convince her that you don’t know where either of you live or how to get there and she’ll walk away and leave you alone in a land that seems as unfamiliar as Oz or Camelot.
“My horse seemed a bit sore,” said Raven at last. “I don’t want to take a chance on his becoming lame. I thought I’d give him a few hours to relax and see if he’s any better later in the day.”
She nodded her approval. “Very sensible,” she said. “I just hope we can get him to home, or at least some shelter, before nightfall brings the ravening hordes again.”
The ravening hordes? Raven bit his lip just as he was about to ask what she was referring to. Play it by ear, Eddie, he told himself. The one thing you can’t do is scare her off before you learn the ground rules to this place.
“I’ll make sure he’s well protected,” said Raven aloud. “What about you and your family?”
“We’re probably safe,” she replied, then paused, considered what she had said, and repeated the word. “Probably.”
“Oh?”
“George Wickham, whatever he actually is, seems taken with my sister Jane. I don’t imagine he would kill the rest of the family to impress her.”
“That seems a reasonable assumption,” agreed Raven.
“I would hope so, but how can one know, given what he becomes at night?”
One more line like that and I’m going to have to start asking questions, thought Raven.
“Well, I hope everyone’s defenses are up,” he said.
“How does one defend against dozens of monsters on horseback?” she replied. “You just hope they’re after someone else, or that you’re so difficult to find that they go after easier targets, or—”
“I get the idea,” he said, reaching out and holding her hand. He half expected her to shudder, or at least tell him to let go, but instead she looked at him and smiled.
“We’ll survive,” she said. “We were fine before Wickham and his horde discovered Meryton, and we’ll be fine after he moves on to greener pastures.”
“Or until someone stops him,” said Raven.
She looked at him and offered him a sad little smile. “If someone could, they’d already have done it.”
He spotted a small tea shop across the street, put a hand in his pocket to make sure he had money, and resisted the urge to see what two-century-old currency looked like.
“Come on,” he said, offering her his arm. “I’ll buy you a cup of . . . tea.” Damn! Gotta watch it! Almost said “coffee.”
She took his arm and they walked to the tea shop, then sat at a small table by a window.
“If you’d like something else, or something more, you’ve but to ask,” he said, hoping he sounded like a civilized country gentleman.
“Tea will be quite sufficient,” she replied.
He signaled to a servant, they ordered, and then he closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated.
If you’re there, Rofocale, I could use some help, or at least some advice. What the hell am I doing in a Jane Austen novel?
If she is right about Wickham and his creatures, it’s not a Jane Austen novel, came the answer.
You’re awake! thought Raven excitedly.
Briefly.
What the hell am I doing here, and how do I get back to my New York and the real Lisa?
There are some things I can’t tell you, Eddie, replied Rofocale, and some I won’t tell you. You have skills and abilities of which you remain unaware, which you haven’t yet drawn upon—and you have a unique destiny.
What are you talking about? I’ve been a Munchkin and a wizard and a monster. How the hell much more unique can my destiny be? Can’t you at least tell me why this is happening to me?
Telling you would not help, Eddie.
Why don’t you tell me and let me decide?
All will become clear to you before too much longer. In the meantime, to borrow one of your own expressions, you must play it by ear.
You’ve got to tell me a little more than that, demanded Raven.
But there was no answer, and somehow he knew that, unlike the last few times they’d been in contact, Rofocale hadn’t passed out or gone back into a coma, but had simply chosen to break the connection.
“Are you quite all right, Mr. Darcy?”
He blinked and looked across the table, where Lisa/Elizabeth was staring at him with some concern.
He grimaced. “Daydreaming,” he said. “A bad habit. I apologize.”
“I’m just glad to know you’re all right,” she replied. “You had me quite concerned for a moment.”
“I’ll try not to do it again,” answered Raven.
The servant arrived with the tea.
“Thanks,” said Raven. “How much will it be?”
“The usual,” was his answer.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a bill, and handed it to the waiter.
“Thank you, sir!” said the waiter with a huge smile.
Oh, shit, thought Raven. Next time I’d better look—but what the hell do I know about what any denomination is worth in this era?
“One of the things I admire about you, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, “is that you are generous with both your time and your money. So many men in your position hoard what they have, when it is capable of bringing so much joy to so many without doing any noticeable harm to your own standing.”
He stared at her for a long moment. You know, he found himself thinking, this is a beautiful little town, a much simpler era, I’m filthy rich, and whatever she calls herself, she’s my Lisa. I could stay here forever.
Then he remembered that forever could be ending in another eight or ten hours if he didn’t make preparations to survive Wickham and whatever constituted his hordes.
Ah, well, we’ll kill all the bad guys, especially the one who shot you back in New York, and then live happily ever after.
“I wish it was as easy as you make it sound.”
He stared across the table. “Did you say something, Lisa?”
“No,” she replied. “And it’s Elizabeth.”
Rofocale, I know you don’t want to talk, but just tell me: Was that her?
Possibly, came the answer.