JANE AUSTEN WASN'T a particularly favourite author of mine, simply because I hated reading about the past. But when my eyes opened to a delicate English bedroom ceiling, I knew exactly what entailed.

Wasn't I just trialed for being a witch? Where on Earth —or rather, when —am I now?

The bed felt significantly more comfortable —cotton sheets and a silk duvet, with goose feather pillows. I stretched out my nightgown covered limbs, and still found more bed beyond my fingers and toes.

I must be horrendously wealthy this time around.

"Miss Garland, it is a quarter past ten in the morning," a voice came from the other side of the wooden door. "Are you perhaps unwell?"

"No," I called, my voice higher pitched and feminine. "I am about to rise."

"Let me draw a bath for you, m'lady."

"All right."

"Oh," the voice went on, "I was instructed to inform you that Lord Hugo has written for a visit."

I wasn't sure who that was, nor why I should care, but my heartbeat quickened at the mention of the name —in a horrible, foreboding sort of way. Regardless, it somehow motivated me to lift the covers and get out of the luxurious bed. I yawned and shuffled towards the vanity —before I let out a small yelp.

My skin...I was pale, like a creamy vanilla colour. My hair was still brown, still wavy and difficult. And my eyes sparkled a bright clear green.

I turned my head, and the reflection copied the movement. Its arm mirrored mine as I lifted and lowered it at my side, before I let out a gasp.

That was me. I was the girl in the mirror.

"Oh...this is wrong on so many levels," I muttered, pulling on my disturbingly rosy cheeks.

It had occurred to me now that I was in a loop of the lives before mine —and I had my present memories and my wits as my only guides. I had to be smart while navigating the past; I couldn't afford to alter it. Though I wouldn't really know what was a major alteration, since this reincarnation of my soul was somewhere in the rich and noble playgrounds of England.

How was I expected to speak? Definitely not as though I were from the twenty-first century. I recalled all of my knowledge from high school Shakespeare, and decided to work with that.

"My lady!" the voice returned. "Your bath is ready."

As soon as I laid eyes on my supposed handmaid, I knew that something was different about her. As though she too, was not meant to be here.

I stared at her a bit, from her blonde hair and hazel eyes, and her rough, unkept beauty. She should surely outshine me. Yet she appeared to keep a reign on such things. Her skin wasn't as smooth, and as nourished as mine. But her features...very delicate and soft.

"Is something the matter, m'lady?" she suddenly asked, gathering my night things and setting them aside. I stood bare before her, but I felt no need to hide.

"Hmm?" I snapped out of it. "Nay."

She let out a little laugh. Then she glanced at the floor, her expression turning mischievous. "Miss Mora," she whispered, walking over to me, "as much as I would like to join you in your bath, I think that will be...highly inappropriate."

"What," I quipped, my brows shooting upwards.

"Do not pretend to be unwitting," she murmured, placing a hand in the middle of my chest. "Your heart is racing. It always is, in instances like this."

There have been...other instances like this?

I hesitantly placed a hand over hers. I could hear my heartbeat echoing inside of my ears. Why was I feeling this way? What was she doing to me?

"Another bath with the Miss Mora Garland," she quipped, twirling a lock of my hair around her slender finger. "How deliciously tempting."

My breath hitched in my throat and to my surprise, her lips gently brushed across mine. I reddened. It seemed that I had been just as gay even then. But I was certain that love between two women was severely frowned upon —and not permitted —in this time period, and that if we were caught, it would ruin both of our lives.

"All right," she decided. "We will bathe together."

"This...is most forbidden," I breathed as she locked the door of the wet room and slipped out of her apron, dress and underthings. She smiled down at me as she cupped my cheek, at half a head taller.

"Thrilling, isn't it?" she returned, planting another kiss on my trembling lips.

It felt real. Too real. So wonderfully real, that I could hardly believe I was really getting this sort of action —in present time, it had been nearly a decade.

My fingers itched to tug through her hair, but I thought it for the best that I didn't do anything too forward, in case it was out of character. On the contrary, she was fully immersed in me, in our embrace.

When she had finally stopped teasing me and suggested that we get into the bathtub, we sat at opposite ends, her legs either side of mine. My eyes wouldn't stop staring at her full bosoms —bigger than my own.

"...You may touch them, if you like," she offered.

I turned my head and flushed.

So I had an affair with my handmaid in another life. It seemed fitting. It was just the sort of thing I would have done. I glanced back at her, her eyes still on me. I began to wonder if we ever got caught.

"Turn around, m'lady," she then murmured, reaching for a sponge, "so that I may wash you."

I wondered if she would dare to try anything else.

She didn't —I think that she respected me that much to ask permission first. Yet I couldn't help but imagine as my handmaid dragged the sponge along my skin a certain someone else doing the same. And my skin heated at the thought. I tensed when her lips kissed the side of my neck, and she pulled me back against her.

"I wish that we could be together," she breathed. "But you are in need of a husband. That is why Lord Hugo is coming later. I suspect he'll propose."

I spluttered and my stomach twisted horribly. How cruel. I didn't want that.

"...You will still love me though, won't you, Mora?" she purred, running her hand down the centre of my torso. I stiffened and threw my head back as I surrendered to her and her desires.

And I blushed as my mind pictured it with someone else; someone fading but just there, out of reach.

For whom was I longing?

I didn't find the answer. The bath water and my handmaid's hands were too distracting.

And after the hot bath, the real work began.

It surprised me just how many layers made up a petticoat, and what exactly was required to get hair into ringlets. I had been cursed with my tangle of hair by my grandmother's genes. Her old engraved mahogany hairbrush, which I still had to this day, was the only weapon able to tame it. Unfortunately, they had no such thing in the 19th century.

My makeup was light and simple —all I needed was a little powder and a little red on my lips, and a good pinch on either cheek to draw out colour.

When my handmaid was finished, her wrists sore and muscles fatigued, I thought I looked a right sight.

"So beautiful," she told me instead. "Any man would be sure to turn in awe, m'lady."

"...If thou sayest so," I murmured.

"Pardon?" she smiled. "Are you polishing up on your Shakespeare, by any chance? The Lady Garland will be most pleased to hear so."

"Oh," I quipped, blushing a bit. "Yes."

She frowned. "Are you dreading Lord Hugo's visit?"

I nodded slowly.

She quickly embraced me, stealing another kiss. Then she withdrew, and tucked her hair behind her ear. "...Who are we to mess with fate?" she murmured.

I heard the pain in that. And felt it too, though it was deeper than a mere physical feeling —as if it ran through my soul. Through time itself.

She then herded me out of the room and down a very grand staircase, where I was met with the footman and a vaguely familiar, stern and stiff woman.

"Lady Garland," my handmaid addressed her with a curtsy. "Miss Mora is ready."

"Well, it's about time," said the Lady, her features sharp and harsh. "Why did you allow her to sleep until such an ungodly hour?"

"Forgive me," I then frowned, "but doesn't ungodly usually refer to a ridiculously early hour?"

My handmaid's eyebrows rose.

The Lady scowled. "You had better hold that tongue in front of the Lord," she hissed. Then she turned on her heel and marched off, the sound of her heels echoing in the hall. "Honestly —the insolence!"

My handmaid turned to me and offered a quiet giggle.

"Lily," hissed the footman, addressing my handmaid. I then seemed to notice the familiar shape of his jaw, and the smouldering look in his eyes. Eyes that remained only on Lily. Something in me twisted with jealousy. "You must stop this secrecy and mucking about. The Lady'll find out if you ain't careful."

"I'll thank you to mind your own business, Vinny." Lily then stuck her tongue out and darted off down the hallway in the other direction.

There was a sudden sharp knock on the door.

My heart leaped into my throat and I paled as the Lady scurried back and smoothed her skirts, before eyeing me in distaste. "What is with that unholy expression? Have you seen a spirit?"

I might as well have.

The footman briskly opened the front door, and standing on the other side was a terribly familiar face.

Underneath the top hat, his golden brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. That was fairly ordinary. But his eyes —his eyes glowed gold.

"Lord Hugo," the Lady breathed before I could say anything about it. "An honour." She curtsied, and subtly elbowed me to do the same.

My gaze didn't leave his as I lowered and rose. It was as though no one could see the true colour of his eyes. Or maybe that meant I was crazy.

"Come, come," said the Lady. "Tea is being served."

This so called 'tea' consisted of Earl Grey and light butter biscuits. We were to drink and eat minimally, with our backs straight and our mouths otherwise shut, so as to let the Lord talk as much as he wanted.

"I am so glad that you accepted my request, Lady Garland," he began, holding his cup out to, in some cruel irony, Lily with a teapot.

"Oh think nothing of it, milord," she gushed. "You are welcome here any time you desire."

I gave a soft cough. Suck-up.

"There is...a matter that I wanted to address," Lord Hugo then said, rather gravely, and waved Lily off. She stiffened and I knew that it took all of her strength not to pour that scalding liquid into his lap.

My eyes then discretely followed her as she came over to pour for the Lady —whose eyes lit up in hope. "Oh, how...completely unexpected. Lily, you are dismissed for the time being," she trilled.

"Oh no need, m'lady," Lord Hugo said quickly, his eyebrows furrowing curiously, "I think that you will find that she should stay."

We all frowned uncertainly.

"Whatever do you mean?" the Lady questioned.

Lord Hugo abruptly stood up. "Lady Garland, I do hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I came today with the intention to propose to your daughter."

I choked on biscuit crumbs.

"Oh my!" the Lady exclaimed as she grabbed my arm. "But in what way is that...bad news?"

Lord Hugo's gaze met mine, and there was no friendliness in it. "I have received intel on her...affliction."

The Lady paused. "Are you referring to that squabble about Mora finding buried treasure? My my, Lord Hugo, do not tell me that you believe that."

Every muscle in my body went rigid. Even here?

"It is not simply a rumour," he clipped. "I have seen it for myself. Or rather, my other eyes have."

"A spy?" she gasped. She shot a glare at Lily.

"Not her," The Lord assured. Then he paused, almost guiltily. "I am...not proud of the means. But I had to find out for myself. And so I have." Then he turned to me. "But even that witchcraft is not the most interesting secret your daughter possesses."

"Pardon?" the Lady and I said simultaneously.

The Lord looked at Lily for the first time. "The young lady's handmaid, should I say, cannot seem to keep her hands to herself. What's more, is that Mora Garland keeps inviting them."

"What," spat the Lady.

Lily and I avoided eye contact, and squirmed.

"I'm afraid that you have a frivolous young man for a daughter," Lord Hugo scoffed.

The Lady was shocked. So we did get caught after all.

Even through technically reliving this humiliation, I now had the incentive to ask an important question, with or without a man's stupid permission. "Who...who was the spy?" I rasped.

"Does it matter?" Lord Hugo sneered.

"Yes!" I suddenly raised my voice, much to the Lady's horror and disapproval.

Lord Hugo smirked, and might have told me the name, if Lily didn't then scream at the top of her lungs and point to the middle of the carpet. Our gazes fell.

There was a jade snake in the parlour.

author's note |
sorry for the long wait —i do still have other stories that require attention. hopefully the next update won't come after such a long time!