Living London Read Free Page B

where it took me. "Yes'm," I said in my truest British accent, knowing I'd be making Nanna proud with my perfect delivery.
    Appeased, the woman leaned back. "Much better. If your mother were alive, she would have never let you carry on so." The tenderness in her eyes softened the woman's scolding tone as she observed me.
    As I regarded the room, I noticed two young women standing behind the older one. Both wore long black dresses with white aprons and caps as well. They stood with their hands behind their backs, watching the older woman as if waiting for a cue. Closing my eyes, I wondered what I was supposed do. This was too much to take in. I just wanted wake up at home, in my bed.
    "Jocelyn? Oh dear, I think she swooned again!" the older woman exclaimed. "Where are the smelling salts?"
    As soon as I heard "smelling salts" I opened my eyes, not wanting to repeat that experience. "I'm fine!" I spoke a little too loudly.
    "Fine?" A look of disbelief crossed her features before she schooled them into a stern expression.
    "Yes, well…" Though complete honesty would certainly convince them of my worthiness of Bedlam, I still needed to stick to some form of the truth. "Well, I seem a bit… confused." There, that was honest. "Um, if I may ask, who are you?"
    Her eyes widened in shock and horror as she gasped and placed a wrinkled hand to her large chest. "Dearie! Oh, here I am thinking you're up to one of your shenanigans, and you're really hurt, aren't you? I didn't know what to think when the Marquess brought you home… said you had swooned. It didn't help with those two nitwit Dannberry brothers behind him trying to explain how you fell off your horse, but you hadn't been out riding, so I didn't give any credit to their ramblings! Afterall, those two are known for their stories. I thought, perhaps… never mind. I should have known better. You are not one to swoon in order to gain attentions from a gentleman. Forgive me."
    Marquess? What's that all about? I remembered the two older gentlemen who had introduced themselves as Dannberry, and their story about how I'd fallen off my horse. But who was the Marquess? I searched my memory for a third person. A faint flicker of someone calling my name passed through my mind. Was that he? And why was this woman implying that I wanted his attention in the first place? Did she believe that I was reckless enough to playact this whole thing in order to get some attention? That didn't sound like something I would do… I sincerely hoped.
    I wanted to scream for them to take me home, but the note from Nanna kept me from opening my mouth. Instinctively I knew this was somehow real. The note she'd left had implied this would happen, but now that I was experiencing it, her vague words snapped together in my mind. The waltzing and dancing, tea and scones, and speaking in the British accent were all ways of her training me for this. Only now that I was experiencing it did I finally understand what she'd been talking about. But she had prepared me and, for some reason, I was here. Taking a deep breath, I started to close my eyes again, but I stopped before the smelling salts came out for an encore.
    "Mrs. Trimbleton. Maybelle Trimbleton." She spoke indignantly, as if I had shown great disrespect in forgetting her. "Your housekeeper, and more importantly, the one who has kept you out of trouble for the past twenty-three years."
    "I apologize, Mrs. Trimbleton. I don't seem to remember much. Could you please tell me about my family?" As it turned out, the whole falling-off-my-horse story had given me a perfectly valid excuse for knowing nothing. At least now I could ask the most basic questions and find out answers without them committing me for insanity.
    Mrs. Trimbleton's eyes crinkled on the edges as she leaned forward and stroked my face in a motherly fashion. "Dearie, your parents are with the Lord, and have been for near eighteen years now. When you reached your majority, you moved back to