I found it, I did something I hadn't done since I'd been three. I gently tore the page from the book and walked over to the shelf where it belonged. I reread the note aloud. "If you wish, you may return. Simply put on the same gown that got you here. But if you wish to stay, replace the book and don't look back, because you won't get the opportunity. You must always look forward."
With care, I lifted the book to the small space where it had been. After gently replacing it, I waited, wondering if some sort of magical effect would take place. Nothing. Disappointed, I folded the piece of paper with Nanna's note, caressing the bold flourishes with my finger. Then I continued upstairs.
Before I got ready for bed I searched my wardrobe for the dress — the one that I had almost used to go back to my own time. I'd been so close the night before. Just a breath away from making such a huge mistake.
As I searched, I was amazed at how such a short amount of time could change everything so entirely. Only last night I had lost all hope and nearly given into the fear and run. Now, only a scant twenty-four hours later, I was walking on air, full of hope and love. I was loved. Irrevocably and fully loved.
I went through my dresses again, but I couldn't find it. Sighing, I made my way to the desk in the corner of the room. I placed Nanna's note in an old Bible and lovingly caressed the cover before heading to the bed.
As I blew out the candles, I grinned to myself. Now that I was here forever, I'd be saying goodbye to all the modern inventions I'd relied on for so much of my life, but it didn't matter. It was worth it. Love was always worth it. Soon I'd be sleeping next to Morgan, and the thought brought a smile to my face. I drifted into a soft sleep, thankful that I hadn't gotten my wish, that I had stayed here.
Knock, knock, knock…
Ugh. Was I never going to get to wake up without someone trying to pound down my door?
"Miss Westin!" Libby and Mrs. Trimbleton cried in unison.
"Oh, just come in already!" I grouched, wanting to go back to my dreams of Morgan.
They both barreled through the doorway, almost getting stuck as they tried to enter at the same time. "Jocelyn, look!" Mrs. Trimbleton's tone was joyous. "The presses must have run hot all night to get this out! Can you imagine?" She beamed, and I lost all my anger at being awoken.
"What does it say?" I asked, trying to swipe Libby's copy.
"Here!" Libby handed it to me. "Read this one! It's the best, but all of them say about the same thing."
I tumbled out of bed and hauled the paper over to the window for light. I began to read, my smile so wide it was painful.
Fig's Society Note, July 11, 1914
Imagine my humiliation when I was delivered not one, but two notes last night of the most shocking nature, both pertaining to the previously maligned Miss W. Yes, you read correctly — previously. As I have learned, gentle reader, Miss W. was indeed not, I repeat, not ruined by a Lord A., but rather was left in the care of her friends till he could return from a short trip to his country estate to notify his family of his impending marriage. A marriage to Miss W. I, for one, cannot imagine the shock of dear Lord A upon returning to London and discovering not only his beloved future fiancée's distress, but the smear upon his own name from a bit of juicy, but grossly false, gossip. My letters — one from Miss W. herself — demanded apology, and indeed one is warranted. I would imagine that most of the haute ton is thinking the very same thing, wondering desperately how they can garner once again the good graces of one of the ton's brightest stars. I don't doubt that many notes will be written after this column is read and a great army of footmen dispatched on errands that will take them to the southwest corner of Hyde Park. On behalf of myself, I offer a sincere apology to Miss W. It is a sad day indeed when a woman must defend herself against the lies of others, especially in the publishing world. Only two questions remain: why