Stupid little porcelain gnats, fluttering around like the world was built for them.
They order their shoes to fit, their sashes measured perfectly, and choose colored fabric just right for their skin. All of this to convince themselves that the world is built, tailored, and structured to fit snugly around their silly little beings.
Amelia never could abide such a concept: as if the world would fit your hand like a smooth silk glove, airy and light with little sensation.
In her opinion, the world was meant to be bumped into, scraped up against, tumbled about in, and thrashed upside down on top of.
Silk gloves and darling slippers – these things she never truly understood.
When she expressed this to her study partner, Ned, he replied quite cooly: “Then it is a good thing you do not live in this century.”
“But… I don’t think I can deal with even a week in this place.” Amelia said, contorting her arm in order to reach back and itch at the corset-laces under her gown.
“I beg your pardon?” Ned said, raising an eyebrow.
Amelia scowled. “Oh bother,” she said, slipping into a well-practiced english accent. “I daresay I’m…. rather more out of my element than I should like.” A very audible tone of annoyance ran through the words she obviously detested.
“Yet you still agreed to come?” Ned said, keeping.
“It was not a difficult decision.” Amelia’s tone changed to hurt. “If I didn’t attend the draft trips, my funds would have been pulled. My own research would be high and dry.”
“I hardly see the sense in drafting an early twentieth-century American culture student for an excursion to 1850’s England.” Ned said, his voice trailing off as he was distracted by a young woman in a blue silk dress. She flitted her fan coyly from where she stood across the street, with several other young people.
“I believe with all my heart that The Dean of Excursions despises me.” Amelia’s bitter sentiment brought Ned back to the conversation.
“There is a distinct possibility that a certain… incident has provoked her.” He said impishly, waiting to see her reaction.
“Nobody knows about that, Ned.” Amelia’s eyes widened as she spoke the words carefully, waiting to see his reaction. “Nobody but you… and Frog.” Her mouth snapped shut, her jaw clenched, and she started to twist her little coin-purse in her hands.
“Yes… Frog.” Ned said, wishing to quickly extinguish the idea that he had broken the confidence.
“You should have stopped him.” Amelia dropped her accent for the moment, hissing and pulling Ned to a halt on the busy shopping street.
“How, exactly?”
“Ned, the Dean of Excursion is the head of the review board. I’ll have to defend my Thesis to her!”
“He blabbed!” Ned hissed back. “Its not my fault you blew up a church!”
“Oh!” Amelia stomped her foot in frustration. “It was just the tower, and you…. know it…..” She stopped, raising an eyebrow. “You know it very well, don’t you? Who exactly was it…”
“Amelia… no…” Ned realized the thought brewing behind her eyes.
“You’re doing the write-up for this excursion, right? I want a glowing review.”
“Amelia!”
“Yes, I’m shameless. Glowing, Ned. Glowing.”
Ned stood in the street with his mouth agape as people pushed by. Amelia gave a smug little smile, and slipped back into her accent. “Do come, Ned. We’ve an appointment that simply must be kept.” She gave him a condescending pat on the shoulder and turned back on her way down the street, off into 1842.
