Part 69: SOMEWHERE IN TIME..................by Coralynn

The minute our newly registered students walk into the house, William rushes to them excitedly.
"I found Henry the 8th!" He announces.
"Where, under the couch cushions? In the hall closet? Hiding in the attic?" is Eleanor's comeback.
"NO!" William is almost breathless, "He's in New Orleans in 1910!! I saw him on an old documentary just this evening. It was him!"
Bethiah, who is taking her newfound studies very seriously, opens a book of maps and asks, "Please show me where New Orleans is, William."
He points to it on the U.S. map.
"We are up here?" she points to Manhattan Island. "And he is way over there?
How do you suppose that happened?"
"That's just it, I can't explain it!" William is pacing the room, "Somehow he traveled through time and space. He's 90 years ago, as well. I didn't think that great oaf knew how to time travel. What shall we do?"
"Nothing," Rosamond says flat out, "Leave him there. Let them deal with that wife-killing maniac. Don't bring him anywhere near me, William, I warn you! If you go fetch him, take him back to Court, but for the love of heaven, do not bring him HERE!" Rosamond is very forceful on the subject.
"What say you, Eleanor?" William asks, "What would you have us do?"
"For once in my life I am in pretty close agreement with Rose," she begins, "but if you insist on it, we could take him back to court, if he'll go. Since he got himself to New Orleans, he may not be easy to take back, though. He has to have figured out the secret of time travel. I thought you were the only one with the secret, William. How did he learn it? YOU have the coin, not Henry. Unless..........."
Everyone leans toward her.
"Unless what?" John is dying to know.
"Was the coin ever out of your possession?" Eleanor looks at William, who is frowining and rubbing his chin.
"Not that I know," he says warily, "But anything is possible. Could he have stolen it and then put it back? If so, I would never have known. In fact, had I not watched that Jazz program on TV tonight, I still would not know. I saw him playing in a jazz combo with Jelly Roll Morton in l910. There was no mistaking him, either. No one looks like Henry, no one! But he couldn't have had my coin, because if he had, he would have it with him in New Orleans, and I have it with me. This is mighty strange......."

"I wish you luck," Rosamond tells them as she flings all her paperwork and books down on the table, "You figure it out. As for me, I am getting construction crews to come in here and build another room onto the house for little Will. They'll be here tomorrow. I'll pay for it; get that worried look off your faces. A-ha! You're thinking I haven't been to the building permit place, aren't you? Well, I have, so there. The nice man at the desk, Nick Trumbull, said construction could start as early as tomorrow. So.........." and she flounces away into her room.
The others have resigned expressions on their faces.

William is still turning over the problem of Henry 8th in his mind, but Eleanor has other concerns.
"I'll have to go back to the employment agency tomorrow after work and see what other jobs are available," she tells William, "The Renaissance festival closes Labor Day. Everything is pretty much over by Labor Day around here. The people who run the festival are going to take it to Phoenix, Arizona or Miami, Florida, or one of those places where they don't get cold weather. I do not want to play baseball for the Yankees, though it was an interesting idea, William, but their season ends before the winter begins and I'd be back looking for another job again. No, I want a job that takes place indoors. Think I'll watch the news on television, then turn in."
"I'll watch it with you," John volunteers, "And Bethiah, you would be wise to watch every night, too, so you can keep up with what's going on. You know Steven does."
"Yes, he does, and he is so smart; he knows everything!"
The four watch the world news, national news, local news, then the sports news comes on.
The man who is reading the sports news is stumbling all over his words. Our time travelers are puzzled by this.
"This guy is awful!" John comments, "I could do better than that!"
"As could I!" Bethiah says, then laughs, "well, maybe not."
"Yes you could, Bethiah," William insists, "Don't have such a low opinion of yourself. You are a very intelligent young woman and speak beautifully. You would be a huge improvement over this man who is slurring his speech.......just a moment.......this man has to be drunk. Look how he is swaying! Oh no! He is going to be sick!"
They watch as the sports man runs wildly off the set. They are stunned.
"There you go, Eleanor," John laughs, "I think we just saw a job opening for you."
"You laugh," Eleanor says, considering the idea, "but actually, you are right. If I go to the television station tomorrow first thing and apply, I may be able to get that job. Right now I am famous for being a jouster in the Renaissance festival and now is the time to make my move.
Yes! I'll do it!" and, that said, she gives one of her now famous victorious smiles and heads up the stairs to bed.
John looks to William, "think she'll do it?"
"HA!" William laughs, "You now know Eleanor well enough to know she will!"



Page 70: Getting high on Lola...........by Terri

Henry wipes the sweat from his face. These late nights are killers, and Henry is knocking the pounds off in sweat, but putting them on again with the rich Creole food and Absinthes on the Rocks.
Damn, it's hot, he thinks. He steps out on the patio for a breath of fresh air, catching the breeze from the River. In the distance, he hears a paddle boat bellowing out steam. He has been with Jelly Roll Morton for three months now. No one told him how hot and steamy New Orleans can be in June. Somehow the heat was conducive to the creative juices flowing. London was never like this. It was cold and damp--just like the people. Oh, there were a lusty few but that only occurred in their private chambers. These people were caught up in the passion for living. What was it Hilma called it? "Joie de vive", that was it! Jelly would just shrug his shoulders and call it, "je ne sais quoi" A feeling he couldn't explain. Something you had to be born with, he said. Henry, feeling like an outsider said, "Yeah, kind of a birth defect!"
Secretly he was jealous. Oh, Henry did have a good time. The food was fantastic, the women were just as spicy as the food....and Henry partook of both with gusto.
Jelly stuck his head out the door. "Come on, Toots...we up for another set!"
Henry stands up, stretching his back.He walks back in and Jelly Roll launches into his latest composition, "Kansas City Stomp".
Jelly was getting famous. He formed their group and called them, "Jelly Roll Morton's Red Hot Peppers." Jelly Roll was an enigma. He married a showgirl, a beautiful Creole named Mabel. She told someone that Jelly was well on his way--he was so well liked by the white people that he never had to play a colored engagement. The only time the colored folk saw him was when he stopped in a cabaret for a drink and everyone would gawk at him. Jelly did not like the Negroes, always said they would mess up your business. And the Negroes did not like him. Jealousy, Henry figured.
Jelly nodded to Henry. Henry, as Toots Tudor, wailed on his horn. As he finishes his solo, his eyes lock with the most beautiful creature he ever saw. She is
a statuesque 5'8" with long wavy flaming red hair, green eyes that could burn a hole in you and curves that made you dizzy just driving your eyes over them. She wears a lowcut emerald satin gown and rhinestone drop emerald earrings. Or maybe they were real. Her name is Lola O'Shea....and she is on the arm of the notorious New Orleans gangster, Nunzio LaRosa!
Henry stands there, staring. His eyes lock with Lola's. It is one of those moments when time stands still. The air is static with the electrical current between the two of them.
Then Lola comes to her senses, and turns to Nunzio and squeezes his arm.
Nunzio is talking to the maitre d', getting a prime spot for the two of them, cozy and out of the way. Which is just as well. Nunzio is married but he likes his
"dames". Nunzio is powerful enough to be secure in the fact that no one would tell Mrs. LaRosa. Not that Nunzio is afraid of Mrs. LaRosa. No, the only Mrs. LaRosa
Nunzio is afraid of is his mother! She wouldn't yell at him---worse! She would cut him off from the cannolis she would make every Sunday morning. And if there was anything Nunzio liked better than a romp with Lola, it was cannolis!
Nunzio orders two champagne cocktails. Lola keeps sneaking glances at Henry from under the curvy hair she peeks out from. Henry can't stop staring and salivating.
Jelly notices it, and whispers, "Man, that dame is big time major league trouble!
If you go messin' with that little Irish 'tater, Mr. Big Stuff LaRosa gonna treat you like a 'tater--totally mash you up!"

Henry still stares. "I don't care if I am mashed, riced, diced,....that is the most lovely creature I have ever seen."
Jelly grips his arm. "Mr. LaRosa is de MAN. He controls all the chicory coffee and beignets coming into port. Anything happen to that supply, most of New Orleans cut you up in itty bitty pieces, man. Yo' don' understand----New Orleans NEEDS her beignets! " Henry shakes his head back into reality. "I'm going to take my break in the courtyard." Secretly Henry is hoping Miss Lola will follow him out.
As he reaches into his pocket for a cigarette (such divine little cylinders, where did they ever think of these things?) he hears a voice from behind him say, "Light my fire, big boy?" He turns and gazes deep into the eyes of Lola.
Henry turns and puts on his best Humphrey Bogart face, (which was absurd because Bogey probably was all of ten years old and not even IN New Orleans).
He says huskily, "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, why did you pick this one?"
Lola looks puzzled. "Because it's two for one ladies' night and Nunzio is such a cheap son of a ....."
"Lola! There you are!" Nunzio puts his arm possessively around Lola. "Why, darling, I was just complimenting Mr......I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
Henry scrambles to accept LaRosa's outstretched hand. "Tudor....real name Henry but everyone calls me Toots"
Nunzio turns to Lola, "Well, I think it's time for.....Toot, toot, tootsie....good-bye!"
With that he lets out a belly laugh, amused by his own wit.
Lola reaches out and shakes Henry's hand. "Good-bye, Mr. Tudor. I think no one in New Orleans can play like you do" and then she mouthes, "and I don't mean the horn!" As she waltzes out the door in a sea of satin, Henry looks down at his hand. In it was a note, with an address....411 Bourbon Street. 3:00 AM. Meet me"
Henry can barely get through the rest of the night.
Finally 3:00 AM comes. Henry is walking on air as he presses the doorbell on 411 Bourbon. Lola comes to the door in a peacock blue silk wrapper. She doesn't say a word, just pulls Henry in and closes the door with her foot.


This had been going on for about three months. Henry would come at 3:00 AM, Lola would greet him without a word, and Henry would be out the door by 6:00 AM before the milkman even made his rounds. One time Henry asked Lola, "What would LaRosa do if he found out about us?"
Lola shrugged. "Nunzio has a wife that he comes home to. Six kids and one more on the way. He will never leave his wife--he is a model citizen, a good Catholic and they don't believe in divorce. No, Nunzio has his life pretty well the way he wants it. He gives me this townhouse, a clothing allowance...I am what he calls 'dolci'---candy.
He says I am great but he cannot exist on 'dolci' alone. It is an equitable arrangement. BUT....Nunzio thinks he is the only candy wrapper! So...Nunzio must never find out about us. Promise me, Toots!'
At that moment, Toots would have promised her anything.



Page 71: Eleanor the Amazon?.........by Coralynn


Eleanor is waiting outside the door to Harvey K. Strauss' office. His secretary has told her that she can have an interview, and she is tapping her toe on the floor in anticipation and impatience.
Finally the secretary tells Eleanor to go in.
Eleanor strides across the room to the desk where Mr. Strauss is sitting, extending her hand.
Harvey Strauss doesn't want to stand up, but has to, so that she isn't higher than he is. He has been reading about how, in order to maintain clout, you must never have your head lower than your opponent.
He stands briefly, shakes her hand, is surprised by the firm grip, then sits, gesturing for her to do the same.
"Mr. Strauss," she begins, "I am Eleanor of the Renaissance Festival; surely you've heard of me."
He nods yes.
"I saw the disgraceful performance of your Sportscaster last evening and am here to replace him."
It takes Strauss a minute or so to digest this piece of information. Just like that this woman is going to replace a sportscaster they have had for fifteen years? He had been fired, true, but the word had not yet gotten out.
Strauss keeps looking at Eleanor, waiting to see what she will say or do next.
"What say you?" Eleanor says pointedly.
Strauss rubs the side of his face, then decides it's time to get into the game here.
"Do you have a degree in Mass Communications?"
"Of course," she lies.
"Have you any experience in broadcast journalism?"
She dodges that question, "I can read the sports news much better than most of the people on television. I know. I've watched them and heard them. Too many of them are old atheletes with necks as thick as a tree trunk. Most unattractive. You need someone people will look forward to seeing, not some drunken lout like the man you had here. How embarrasing for you! I will never embarrass you, I have too much class."
"Oh indeed, indeed," Strauss nods, "but, um, Eleanor, you did say that was your name, didn't you? OK, you have to audition. Let me ring Hank Greene. He'll let you do a reading for him."
He rings for his secretary, telling her to get Hank Greene.
"While we wait, Miss Eleanor," Strauss begins to show some signs of interest, "I was seriously thinking of having our new sportscaster, if a woman, dress in a Wonder Woman outfit. That would boost the ratings."
"Wonder woman," Eleanor says the words slowly, frowning a bit. Hmmm, never heard of that one. Sounds like me, though, she concludes.
Strauss reaches behind him for a magazine, flips it open and shoves a picture across the desk at Eleanor. She looks at the photo of a woman in stripes and stars and a thick golden belt and a crown, and knows she could carry this off. Skimpy outfit, though, not very queenly.
"I could wear this," she smiles, "The crown would look especially good on me."
"That's right!" Strauss remembers, "You were called Eleanor of Aquitaine at the Renaissance Festival. We can't dress you in medieval garb or even in a jousting outfit, though. I think Wonder Woman would be more of a draw."

Hank Greene steps into the room.
"Hank, this is Eleanor. She wants to read for the sportscaster slot on the evening news."
Eleanor follows Hank out to another room where equipment is set up all over the place. TV cameras, high banks of lights, and all manner of cables snaking over the floor, it's a feat just getting across the room without tripping, but she does.
"Stand right there, yes, right there," Hank directs, "Now....read this." he hands her a script.
"The SanFrancisco 49ers were trounced badly in a pre-season game with the Detroit Lions this afternoon," she looks up, and Hank smiles and gestures for her to continue.
"Then, over in the the National League, the Giants were beaten badly by the Arizona Diamondbacks! Giants?? That's pretty funny, Hank!"
He gives her a dubious look; one that says, shape up, lady, or you don't get hired.
She stands taller and begins the next part, "In Flushing Meadows, Serena Williams beat her inferior competitor 6-4, 6-2, 6-2."
Eleanor gives him an 'isn't that enough' look.
"You do have a certain authoritative delivery," he muses, "And.....just a minute.....yes, Gwendolyn, thanks........she just gave me a note from Strauss saying you agreed to the Wonder Woman outfit."
"Yes I have agreed," Eleanor states.
"Could you start tonight?" Hank asks.
"You already have the Wonder Lady outfit made?" Eleanor is surprised.
"Wonder Woman!" he corrects her. "Yes, actually, we do have one from an old local sitcom we tried out a few years ago that bombed, and it should fit you."
"Very good, then I shall try it on."
"Tell you what, Ms Eleanor, if it fits, you have the job. It's as simple as that."
"Ohhh, it'll fit, Hank, it'll fit, never you fear!" she walks with him to the wardrobe department and tosses the script in the wastebasket.

A few hours later it is time for Eleanor's first stint as the sportcaster. She has a script from which to read, which is helpful. Her biggest chore is stuffing herself into the Wonder Woman outfit which fits fine everywhere but the hips, where it is stretched to the limit.
"That's what happens when you get hooked on danish pastry," she says to her dresser. "I am forthwith going on a diet. Either that or take a chance on splitting this outfit wide open," and with the thought of that she grimmaces, then laughs.
Cecily, the dresser, has been trained to make no derogatory comments, and replies, "Yes, maam."

Eleanor joins the other news anchors and such on the large curved desk, the cameras positioned to capture each in their turn as they read the news or sports or weather.
The news segments go well, but when the weather woman delivers her part of the news, Eleanor sees that the screen behind the woman is just blue. She blinks and creases her forehead, then, interrupting the weather lady, says aloud, "You have a defective map! There is nothing on it! Stop and get it fixed before you commence!" thinking that to be helpful.
Everyone else stares at her with shock, the main news anchor leans over to her and tells her to STOP talking. This confuses Eleanor, as she was just trying to be helpful.
When they break for commercials, the others at the newsdesk chastise her for breaking into the weather segment.
"How could you do that?!" and such is heard.
Finally someone explains to her why the screen is blue with no image upon it, and is going through this explanation for the second time, as Eleanor is not sure she grasps it the first time around, when they are notified that the sports is coming next, 5-4-3-2-1
The light on the camera comes on, and Eleanor sits up as regally as she can considering she is for all intents and purposes a dead ringer for Wonder Woman with red hair.
"Hello, New York!" she begins, "I am Eleanor of Aquitaine of the Renassaince Festival and I shall be your sports announcer! Many of you visited the Renaissance Festival and witnessed how brave and unconquerable I was on the field of battle."
The others are getting restive, realizing Eleanor is doing a promo for herself! This is just not done!
"I am wearing Wonder Woman because I am a wonder woman," Eleanor goes on, "I am as brave as any man on the planet. And with that, let me show you how foolish some of these men look on their field of battle. First we will see football. Look at this film clip of the Greenbay Packers playing the Detroit Lions. Do you see how these men are wasting their energy just pushing each other around? Now, I would never do such a silly thing. Besides, they are playing outdoors in the rain. See how the mud flies up from the ground? See how filthy their uniforms are? What self-respecting woman would allow such nonsense? Nay, we would wait until the ground was dry, and we would not waste energy pushing each other down. We would take that eliptical ball and throw it mightily from one end of the field to the other. We would not smear ourselves in mud or dirt. If these men had to wash those stains out of their clothing, you know they would soon cease this nonsense. No woman would become filthy unnecessarily because she knows she will have to stand over a boiling kettle of water with lye in it, stirring this mess until the dirt is released. How many of you are willing to do that? Few, I would wager. No man would have the patience for it because they are basically a lazy lot.
Now, look at these women playing tennis in Flushing Meadows, which is an odd name for a place. Flushing is what toilets do. That aside, see how white and crisp and clean their outfits look. This is a good sport. This one makes sense to me. I could even take up this sport myself, in fact, I think I shall. Yes, I shall. Phone into the station and tell them whether you think I should play tennis in my Wonder Woman outfit, or should I wear one of those tennis dresses the way you see these charming ladies?"
The News manager is going nuts in his booth. He draws his index finger across his throat and yells into the mike that's attached to Eleanors's earpiece, "CUT!"
"Now I am being told "Cut!" Eleanor comments, "and I see nothing on my copy here that indicates a sport called Cut. However, if mayhap there is a sport called Cut, I shall be more than willing to include it in my next broadcast. This is Eleanor the Wonder Woman signing off!"

The light on the camera goes dead, and Eleanor sees all eyes glaring at her.
The manager sprints out of his booth, shouting, "What were you doing? You didn't stick to the copy we put in front of you. Are you insane?!"
Eleanor smiles. What is it with these 21st Century New Yorkers anyway. First she is yelled at by someone calling himself The Law, shoving what he says is a "ticket" at her just because she was driving down the road, and now this maniac is screaming at her for being herSELF on television. They hired her to be herself, so what is the complaint, she wonders.
The manager tries desperately to explain to Eleanor why she should never deviate from the copy, when an assistant runs out and whispers something to him.
"Ohhhh noooo!" he groans. "The phone calls are pouring in! The viewers are 99% in favor of Eleanor's sports delivery. I can't believe I'm seeing the day! OK, OK, Eleanor, just keep doing what you're doing." and with that he goes back into the control booth.
The other newscasters are looking at each other aghast, but Eleanor is smiling at them and nodding in a friendly way.
Ted Morrow, the main news anchor, is impressed. By jove, this woman really has something! Hmmm, he wonders, could she be open to dating a co-worker? Should he ask? And would she wear the Wonder Woman outfit to a symphony orchestra concert? It would boost ratings!!



Page 72: Nutzio Nunzio.............by Terri


One early dawn, Lola awakened Henry. "Henry! You must get out of here before sun up. If anyone sees you, they could tell Nunzio and our lives would not be worth a picayune!"
Henry groggily got up and put his pants on. It was the beginning of a new day and the sun was already shining in Lola's courtyard. He gave Lola a lingering kiss goodby and let himself out by the piazza. Little did he see the movement in the shadows....
Lola always came to the club on Tuesday nights on Nunzio's arm. They would always make eye contact over Nunzio's head. But Tuesday came and went, no Lola, no Nunzio. The following night, Wednesday, a note on lavender scented paper made its way to the stage. Henry slipped it into his pocket. On his break, he took it out. It read, "Please come to see me at 3:00 AM. I will explain when I see you. L.--"
Henry was befuddled. Lola had never sent him a note after that first night. If there were any messages exchanged, they were through her maid Pansy.
Henry pondered this problem through the entire sets. He still never missed a beat.
At three o'clock, Henry knocked on the door. Lola answered. Her face was black and blue, her left eye was shut, her lip was swollen and bloody. She was a mess.
Henry rushed to hold her.
"My darling, what happened?"
Before Lola could answer, the door slammed shut behind Henry. A calm Nunzio and his henchman Guido stepped out of the shadow. Guido put Henry in a headlock.
Nunzio leveled a gun at Henry's nose. "Stealing another man's woman is deadly in these parts, amico, be it wife or..."
Lola lunged at Nunzio biting him on the hand. Nunzio backhanded her. She hit the wall and slid down. Henry kicked Guido in a very personal spot--Guido lay on the floor, clutching the walls and his injured area. Henry grappled with the gun that Nunzio had aimed at his chest. They struggled. Lola got up and lunged again, bear-hugging Nunzio from the back. "Run, Henry!" she screamed. The gun went off.
Nunzio and Lola, clutched together, looked at each other with shock and surprise.
Then Lola's eyes rolled back in her head and she fell to the floor.
Nunzio stared at Lola's fallen form. He picked Guido off the floor. "We have to get out of here before the cops arrive! If Mama LaRosa catches wind of this, she will cut off my cannolis...and I don't mean the ones stuffed with whipped cream!"
Henry was long gone, running down the street, having no idea what had transpired.
He ran to his room at Hilma's and threw all his belongings in a duffel bag. He grabbed his trumpet and put it in the case. Within five minutes he was out the door, running down to the lobby where he ran into Jelly Roll Morton.
"Hey, dude, whar's the fire? Lola makin' demands on you that you cain't keep up with?" He laughed heartily, then stopped when he saw the look on Henry's face.
In between gasps, Henry told him what had transpired. Except that Henry did not know about the shooting. He was only aware that Nunzio was after him.
Jelly let out a low whistle. "We best git you in hiding. You cain't stay at Hilma's. The Man be lookin' for you there." With that Jelly took Henry to Sadie Bechnel's and
booked a room under Jelly's own name. Jelly looked at the disheveled Henry in dismay. He knew Henry would now be a man on the run. He knew he was losing not only a good trumpeter but a good friend. He shakes his head and walks out the door.



Part 73: Road Trip, Road Trip, Road Trip!.....by Terri


William comes down to breakfast, a solemn look on his face. Rosamond has taken little Will to pre-K and is enjoying her toaster strudel and cappuccino. Eleanor is polishing off her bacon and eggs, Bethia daintily eats her Eggos and John is
drinking his Protein shake.
Eleanor glances up. "Whatever is the matter, William? Little Will sneak in your bed and wet it?"
Rosamond glares at her. "Will does NOT wet the bed, Eleanor!"
William raises his hand to silence them. "I am afraid we have a bit of a problem.
A bit? Try colossal! I went to the library and accessed Henry "Toots" Tudor on the internet. It says he appeared out of nowhere, no one knew who he was or where he descended from."
Rosamond says, "Did they try looking under a rock?"
William continues as if Rosie hadn't said a thing. "It also said he disappeared after the death of a gangster's moll. Her name was Lola O'Shea. Seems 'Toots' was having a non-professional relationship with her."
Eleanor smiles triumphantly "I KNEW that would lead him into trouble!"
Rosamond says, "WHAT would lead him into trouble?"
Eleanor whispers into Rosamond's ears. Her eyes grow round."Oh, THAT!"
William bristles. "If you can control your salacious comments, I can explain something to you. It appears that a Mr. Nunzio LaRosa or one of his associates may very well have dispatched our 'Toots' into the Mississippi River with cinderblock athletic shoes! His body was never found. This has been troubling me all night and I see no other way. We have to go back in time to New Orleans 1910, find a Jelly Roll Morton to lead us to Henry, find our miscreant, and haul his butt to New York before this Mr. Nunzio finds him. I really hate to do this. I would just as well leave him in New Orleans and let him take what's coming to him but I just can't do that. He's a boor and all...."
William looks up. Rosamond and Eleanor are gone. Upstairs he hears the sound of dresser drawers being pulled out, closet doors being flung open. Rosamond is dragginig suitcases down the stairs. Eleanor is tossing hers over the bannister.
William roars, "Who told you two you were invited? This is a man's job!"
Eleanor sneers, "And who was the best jouster? And who is now Wonder Woman the sportscaster; Wonder Woman is braver than any man on the planet! Think you not I could skewer Mr. LaRosa like shish kebab?"
Rosamond counters with, "Well, if Eleanor goes, I go! You never know when you may need me." Actually Rosamond had no intention of having Eleanor go anywhere she was not invited. And Rosamond wanted to see if it was true what they said about Frenchmen. In England one never got the opportunity to....
William sighs. "Have I no choice?"
Bethia counters with, "How about I stay and countermand the homebase, take care of little Will and keep the home fires burning?" Bethia doesn't want to let anything cool between her and Steven.
William looks at John and apologizes. "I am sorry, John. Looks like I have no choice."
John clenches his teeth and says, "That' s not your fault, William."
Lord help me, he thinks. Now I have to keep an eye on Rosamond in New Orleans.
John and William look meaningful at each other as they hear Rosamond and Eleanor chanting, "Road trip! Road trip! Road trip! Road trip....."



Page 74: more Road Trip, Road Trip........by Terri


"OK, hold it, you two..where do you think all that luggage is going to fit? It's not like we are taking the car. You forget--this is time travel. You go with the clothes on your back!" William snarles.
Eleanor draws herself up haughtily. "William, I simply cannot go without my jewelry."
and Rosamond pipes in with, "Or my cosmetics."
But William puts his foot down. "No, we are staying long enough to find Henry8 and get him to the 21st century before he gets himself killed. I figure it will take a night at the most.
We have to go in clothes that are apropos to that time frame. We will go to the antique store--they have a vintage clothes section."
Later that afternoon, William and John are walking out wearing wool suits, and bowler hats. Eleanor is wearing a sea green dress. Rosamond has on a deep rose dress. William says to Eleanor, "Eleanor, why on earth did you get one with a bustle?"
Rosamond says, "You never mind him, Eleanor, you leave it on!"
Eleanor gives both a frosty look. In a deadly voice she says, "I'm not wearing a bustle."
Rosamond starts giggling. William shoots her a dagger look. "When we get back, I think we all need to enroll in the New York Fitness Center. I think too much lasagna and too many sit-down jobs are doing us in!"
With last minute instructions to Bethia on the care of little Will and what to say if anyone asked for them on the phone, William, John, Rosamond and Eleanor go into the back yard by the gazebo at the edge of their woods.
Eleanor asks William, "How can we be sure we will end up in New Orleans in 1910?
After all, you sent us to 1640 Long Island." John adds, "To which Bethia and I are eternally grateful!"
William replied sheepishly. "I figured out what I did wrong. The one holding the coin determines where we shall go. I am afraid the first time I was thinking of football."
"Football? " John asks.
"Yes, I was thinking of the Tampa Bay Bucaneers-New England Patriots game. The last I heard the score was 16 to 40. I guess my thoughts translated into 1640 and an area where Patriots and Bucaneers frequent. You know, the puritans and the rumours of buried treasure on Long Island by the pirates."
"Ohhhhh..." they all say. Now they felt more confident.
The four of them hold hands. The air around them begins to swirl and glow. Faster and faster it whirls.
When they open their eyes, they are standing by the banks of the Mississippi River. Paddleboats and steamwheelers are cruising by. In the distance, the sound of a tinny player piano is cranking out a catchy tune. William turns to the three. "Stay with me. Our mission is to go find Jelly Roll Morton. He and Henry were good friends. I figure if anyone knows where he is, Mr. Morton will."
Since we are unfamiliar with this kind of establishment, let me esconce you two women at Le Cafe du Monde. You can eat those beignets and drink some chicory coffee that are so famous here. We will be back in an hour. DON'T MOVE FROM THIS SPOT!" Eleanor makes a face at William. Her reporter instincts are kicking in. She thinks this would make a nice documentary for her news reports. Rosamond sits there, wondering if beignets are like bagels. And where could she lay her hands on some low-fat cream cheese?
John and William, foolishly confident the women will be fine, head up St Peter street to N. Rampart. They find Jelly Roll Morton's quintet practicing, and Mr. Morton holding auditions for a trumpet player.
"Excuse me, Mr. Morton....we are friends of Mr. Tudor and we desperately want to find him. Might you know where he would be?"
Jelly Roll looks suspiciously at William and John. "Who? What makes you think I know a Mr.....Too-dair?"
William begins to realize he might have a problem. How would he explain he was from the past, let alone the future?
But John, ever the fast thinker, says, "We are from the law firm of Gwinnett and Plant.
Mr. Tudor was named sole benefiary in his estranged daughter Elizabeth's will.
The estate is sizeable and Elizabeth had told us before her untimely demise that he was part of your quintet...which looks like a quartet now."
Jelly Roll narrowed his eyes. "Give me 24 hours. Come back this time tomorrow. I MAY have an answer for you...maybe not."
"But....." William sputters.
"Tomorrow." Jelly answers and turns away.
Dejectly William walks alongside John. "What the HELL are we going to do here for the next 24 hours?"
John, kind of excited, says, "Well, we could take rooms and see the sights. I smell wonderful food, William. Maybe you can get some ideas for your show."
"William begins to perk up. "Yes, we shall have to obtain lodging."
John says, "I saw a small inn on Royal Street. I think you and Eleanor should register together and Rosamond and I should register as Mr. and Mrs. Gwinett."
William gives John a sidelong look. "John, there are no hot tubs in the turn of the last century in New Orleans."
John's face turns red. "Oh, no, William....you and I will share a room and the women will have one. I just thought it would divert attention from us."
"OK, then" William relaxes.
As they walk down St Peter, they turn onto Decatur. There at the Cafe du Monde, they come across Eleanor and Rosamond's table. The empty cups of coffee and the plates of powdered sugar are left behind. And not a sign of Eleanor or Rosamond.



Two Beignets & a Jelly Roll...........by Terri


Eleanor is dragging Rosamond by the hand. Rosamond is pulling behind.
"But, Eleanor, William told us not to leave the cafe. He will go positively ballistic if he finds out we are gone!"
Eleanor turns around, puts her hands on her hips and exclaims, "Since when do we really listen and obey the great master? Here we are in the French Quarter in a town known as the Big Easy and you want to listen to what THAT windbag says? Since when does William call the shots?"
"Since William has the coin, that's since when! I don't want to be stuck here in some sort of time warp. I watched Back to the Future, you know!"
Eleanor rolls her eyes. "Rosamond, it is only a few blocks. William will catch up to us. I left him a note written on a napkin."
"Well....." Rosamond looks at Eleanor dubiously.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Rosie..where is your sense of adventure? Anyone who could handle what you did at court, juggling lovers like that can surely wander around in a small area like this with me--and don't forget I AM Eleanor of Acquitaine--and I AM invincible! Besides, when I get back to my job, I want to start a segment called 'Somewhere in Time' where I can give an 'eyewitness' account of different events of the past. If only I could have access to William's coin 24/7. Look out, Barbara Walters!"
"Well. where do you intend on going?" Rosamond looks at Eleanor doubtfully.
"First we start looking for Henry at Hilma Burt's house of hospitality."
"Ooooh," Rosamond sighs. "I just love social gatherings!"
Eleanor snorts, "Well, Rosie, you might feel right at home at this one."
The two of them walk down the narrow streets until they come to Storyville.
Eleanor marches up to the door. "I heard this is where Henry took lodging. I will show William who the stronger sex is when it comes to getting things done. I researched what happened to Henry Tudor on the Internet, too. William thinks he is so smug and smart."
The two women knock on the door. "You let me do all the talking, Rosamond. I don't want you giving anything away about where we are really from. Or when!"
Rosamond looks at Eleanor quizzically, "Which time, Eleanor? Twelve hundred or 2001?"
Eleanor opens her mouth to say something but just then the door opens and a tall coffee-coloured woman opens the door. In cultured tones, she asks, "Bon jour, madame et mademoiselle. You have been expected."
Rosamond looks bewildered at Eleanor. Eleanor just shrugs.
"Bon jour, madame. I am here to see Madame Burt."
"Entrez-vous, s'il vous plait. Je m'appelle Chloe. You must be the new ones."
"Uh, yes, " Eleanor says, at a loss for words.
"Madame Burt will see you in the parlor off to the left."
Eleanor whispers to Rosamond, "I think it is best if I see her alone. You might blow our whole cover. Wait in that parlor over there."
Rosamond looks over and sees a room with red velvet couches and rich damask wallpaper. "Oooh, Eleanor, look at the wonderful warm touches in this room."
Eleanor disappears around the corner, leaving Rosamond to herself.
Eleanor seats herself in the small office. Within a few minutes, Hilma Burt enters.
"Ahh, you are just right for this...red hair is so very popular at the moment. Gentlemen just love it!"
Eleanor feels flattered, but asks Hilma, "Please, I am seeking the whereabouts of a Mr. Henry Tudor. I understand he resided here."
Hilma narrows her eyes. "He did live here, yes. But he moved out. Quite suddenly.
Why do you wish to know?"
Eleanor thinks fast. "He is my cousin. I have news from home, about his uncle.
We thought we could have a nice evening meal together and catch up on old times."
Hilma bites her lower lip. "Well, he ran into some trouble. I have a friend who might know where he is. His name is Lamonthe. But everyone calls him Jelly Roll. You can find him most nights at the Funky Butt. Most days, too. Are you sure you are not here for employment?"
Eleanor looks puzzled. "No, madame. But could you please get me a map and show me how to get there?"
"Certainly." Hilma leaves the room. Eleanor leans back in her chair. Like taking candy from a baby, she thinks smugly.

Rosamond sits on the chair in the parlor. Her eyes eagerly take in the furnishings.
I'll have to see about getting wallpaper like this for my bedroom, she thinks. I love what they have done with the peacock feathers and beaded curtains. This is unlike anything that Rosamond had ever seen. As she sits there fingering the fringe of the pillows and admiring the tassels on the curtain tiebacks, Rosamond fails to see the incredibly handsome man enter the room. He wears a cream colored silk suit with suede breeches and a white shirt. His hair is coal black and his eyes a startling blue. He walks up to Rosamond, extending his hand and says, "Bonjour, Mademoiselle. I am afraid I have failed to make the acquaintance of one so sweet as you."
Rosamond blushes. "My name is Pierre DuPre. And by what name do you go by, my sweet flower of the South?"
Rosamond takes his hand. "My name is Rosamond de Clifford."
"Ahhhh,,,a flower whose name is Rose. I am hoping this Rose does not have any thorns but is like a flowerbud in the dew who slowly unfolds to the warmth of the sun."
Rosamond looks confused. "Are you here to see Mrs. Burt on business?"
Mr. DuPre chuckled. Rosamond does not like the sound of his laughter. It is too....
double entendre?
Pierre puts both hands on Rosamond's shoulders. "But, non, it is YOU that I want to see on business. Shall we work out an arrangement, cherie?"
Rosamond does not understand. Mostly it was the French she does not understand. It seems to be crossing her signals. And where is Eleanor?
Rosamond smells a distinct odor of whiskey on Mr. DuPre. "I am sorry, Monsieur, but I am waiting for my friend."
Mr. DuPre smiles, a smile that Rosamond does not like. "Cherie, we do not need a chaperone. And I am not a menage a trois person! Perhaps you would like to show me the upstairs?"
Rosamond has been thinking of exploring the house. It was unlike any she had ever seen before. At least this would give her a reason to explore.
"Why, yes, Mr. DuPre. I would love to show you the upstairs." Rosamond figures if he thought she lived here, others would think so, too, and then she could see how they decorated with the chandeliers. She could get some interior decorating ideas!
She lads Mr. DuPre us the stairs. He insists on putting his arm around her waist. Rosamond feels uncomfortable, the pressure he exerts on her.
As they reach the top of the stairs, Rosamond knocks on a door. No answer.
Mr. DuPre reaches across her and opens the door. It is dark, except for a small kerosene lamp on the oak dresser. In the center of the room is a brass bed.
Rosamond looks around. "Well, I guess this is one of the unoccupied rooms, Mr. DuPre."
"Call me Pierre, s'il vous plait, ma chere Rose."
With that, he draws Rosamond to him. His lips are dangerously close.
Rosamond pulls away. "Mr. DuPre....Pierre....what do you think you are doing?"
Pierre gropes at her bodice." What do you think I am doing? Getting my money's worth!"
Rosamond pulls away and it becomes pretty clear by then what Pierre DuPre has paid for and come to collect!!
"But you have it all wrong...I am not that kind of girl!"
Pierre has Rosamond in a tight grip. "I came because Hilma said she had 'new merchandise' and I have a running account here so don't play innocent with me."
By now Pierre has ripped the skirt off of Rosamond. She lets out a scream.
Pierre stands there dumbfounded. He can't take his eyes off Rosamond.

For there she stands in lingerie that Pierre had never seen before.
You see, Rosamond had gone shopping at Victoria's Secret before she left!


With that, the door bursts open.
Hilma stares. Eleanor bursts out laughing. William groans. And John Gwinnett
balls up his fist and coldcocks Pierre DuPre. Pierre lands on the brass bed, unconscious.
Rosamond stands there, clutching the remnants of her bodice and skirt.
John Gwinnett can't believe his eyes.
For Rosamond stands before him in a black lace push-up bra, lacy black underwear and a garter belt with little red bows on it.
Hilma finds her voice. "Who the HELL are you..and what did you do to Pierre?"
Rosamond begins to cry. "He tried to...to...to..."
Hilma is upset. "Do you know who that is? That is the biggest sugar planter this side of the Mississippi. One of my best customers...Wait...you are with HER?"
She nods to Eleanor.
Hilma begins to understand. "Uh, oh, Mr. DuPre thought you were one of the new girls. I see now, you all are looking for Mr. Too--dair. Mr. Too-dair is in big trouble. Mr. La Rosa has a contract on him, says he killed Lola O'Shea. Perhaps Mr. Morton can help you. I cannot."
Rosamond picks up the tatters of her dress, and looks with loathing at the inert form of Mr. Pierre DuPre.
William is disgusted with Rosamond, Eleanor is still snickering, and John is trying very hard to avert his eyes without much success.
Hilma apologizes for the situation. "I am sorry, it was a series of misunderstandings.
I will smooth things over with Mr. DuPre."
Then she turns to Rosamond. "By the way, I will take three dozen of the outfits...I especially like the fishnet stockings!"



Rosamond trails behind William, John and Eleanor, sniffling all the way.
Willaim turns to her. "Rosamond, does your common sense leave you whenever we go anywhere? We are so tired of bailing your precious little butt out of trouble every two seconds--and it is always the same kind of trouble! How can a courtesan be so naive?"
Rosamond has trouble hitching up the bodice of the dress she had borrowed from Hilma. "Don't lecture me, William.I am stressed out enough as it is! Eleanor talked me into going to look for Henry. I was perfectly content to finish my beignet."
William whirls on Eleanor. Eleanor shrugs her shoulders. "Can I help it if she is a ninny? I didn't tell her to go upstairs with that...that...Frenchy!"
John digs his fists deep in his pockets. "You know, Rosamond, I'm tired of hunting you down and rescuing you from a fate that, well, may almost be worse than death!"
Eleanor starts to laugh, then giggle uncontrollably. "Did you see the look on his face when he got a good look at Rosamond's panties? I thought his eyes would pop out!"
Rosamond grows defensive. "I guess I figured 21st century underwear would not be called on for a public display..or even privately!" She gives John a sidelong look.
"At least it wasn't some of the stuff from Frederick's of Hollywood! They have this one bra...."
William mutters under his breath, "At least it wasn't leather! That would have presented a whole new set of problems!"
"What did you say, William?"
"Nothing. Just be glad John punched his lights out."
William turns to the other three."We can't see Mr. Morton until tomorrow so we will have to seek lodging tonight. John and I have made reservations at a place on Royal Street called the Corn Stalk House. The fence is wrought iron with a cornstalk design. So it will be easy to find. We registered as Mr. and Mrs. Williams and Mr. and Mrs. Gwinnett. But when we get to the hallway, we divide up boy-boy and girl-
girl. We are trying to be as inconspicuous as possible until we find Henry."
Eleanor makes a face. "I don't even like people THINKING I am co-habitating with you, William."
Rosamond's spirits brighten considerably. "This is such a fantastic place, could we not go out and hear some music, William?"
"Certainly not! I don't want to keep a leash on you, Rosamond."
Eleanor's eyes gleam maliciously. "Oh, I don't know--Rosamond might fancy a bit of leather!"
By the time they reach the top of the stairs, the men say goodnight and Rosamond and Eleanor go to their room. As usual, Eleanor hogs the bathroom.
When she is done with her bath, she slips into the covers. "Well, Rosamond, I'd say sweet dreams but I think if we had not gotten there, it might have been a nightmare for you. Why can't you get pantyhose like the rest of the world, I will never know!"
Rosamond looks preoccupied. "But didn't you think that Pierre DuPre was hunky in a rugged, roguish sort of way?"
But Eleanor is already asleep. Probably plotting some corporate takeover, Rosamond thinks.
Rosamond slips out of her clothes and into her robe. She adds scented oil to her bath. Why can't they just let me alone? she wonders. I'd be alright. After all, I handled the Plantagenet boys OK.
Rosamond slides under the water, letting it wash away the day's anxieties.
She slips into a silk wrapper. She is too keyed up to relax.
The courtyard is entirely enclosed, a walled garden. She walks out onto the balcony. The moon shines down on Jackson Square. In the distance she can hear the bellowing of the riverboats and the sound of tinny pianos in the parlors down the street.
She begins to think of her narrow escape from Pierre DuPre and finds her pulse began to quicken. What am I doing? she thinks. The man was a cad, a strong, assertive man who knew what he wanted and how to take it. My lord, he was a regular 21st century.....Henry Plantagenet? Rosamond feels her face getting hot.
Could I have subconsciously been attracted to him? Did I maybe know what he wanted all along and encouraged him?
She senses she was not alone. She whirls around and sees John Gwinnett standing there, a thin stylish cigar in his hand. "Good grief, John! I thought you were Pierre DuPre come to exact vengeance on me!"
"Disappointed, Rosamond?"
Rosamond, alarmed that John can almost read her thoughts, flys at him with her nails. He catches her wrist in an ironclad grip.
Rosamond can smell the brandy on his breath. "At least Mr. DuPre made his desires known to me. He doesn't send out all these mixed signals!"
John still has Rosamond in a grip. "I am getting tired of rescuing you. A sixty-hour work week!"
Rosamond tries to wrench herself away. "Oh, were you hoping for a pension plan?
Or maybe it was the fringe benefits you were hoping for?" Her voice is dripping with hurt and sarcasm. 'Oh, I forgot! You are an honorable man. I should remember, you tell me that often enough!"
John grabs her roughly by the shoulders. "I don't have ice water in my veins, Rosamond."
Rosamond is standing dangerously close to him. "No, John, you have a stomach full of brandy and your high ideals are about to go out the window. Your heart is pounding. I wanted you the first time I saw you in Southold. Why don't you let your feelings lead you wherever they will take you? Your damn marriage vows kept you in line. Well, I have news for you, Mr. John Gwinnett! Elizabeth is gone, the moon is full, the jasmine is blooming and there is no one here to see if you make a mistake.
Go ahead, John. Lead with your heart and not your head for a change! We may never pass this way again."
John can smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her skin. As he draws Rosamond to him, a light comes on in the courtyard.
The august personage of William seems to fill the courtyard.
John quickly draws back from Rosamond. Rosamond is in the shadows.
"John, whatever are you doing out here?"
"Oh, I thought I would get some fresh air. There is a breeze from the river and that is quite cooling. The air is so stifling."
William looks at John. "Yes, you seem to be sweating up a storm. Let us go back to our room, open some brandy, and relax, shall we?"
John looks lingeringly at the shadows. "Yes, I suppose that would be best."
William claps him on the shoulder. "A good night's sleep will do us all some good."
They walk up the stairs. William calls out, "Goodnight to you, too, Rosamond."
Rosamond picks up the jardinierre and throws it at the spot where William had stood, sending it crashing to the ground.

Pierre DuPre comes to. Hilma Burt had put cold cloths on his head. Groggily he sits up, shakes his head. "What happened?" he groans. Hilma apologetically says,
"Quelle domage, Monsier Pierre. You seem to have mistaken a passing visitor for one of my girls. I am so sorry."
Pierre looks at Hilma. "But c'est impossible. I saw for myself. The packaging was perhaps misleading, but once the wrapping was off the box....mon Dieu! The apparel must have been from France! Who was that barbarian who struck me?"
"Ah, I believe that is the gentleman who is traveling with Mademoiselle de Clifford."
"Not her husband?" Pierre enquires. "Perhaps he is in the same line of work as you are, Mrs. Burt."
Hilma laughs gently. "I doubt it, Monsieur. Monsieur Gwinett seems to have genuine affection for the Mademoiselle."
Pierre rubs his chin. His face darkens. Never before had he, the richest sugar planter in all of Louisiana, been denied anything or treated like that. His mother had said they were descended from Geoffrey of Anjou. She had said he showed all their ruthless traits, even after being diluted centuries later.
"Where are they staying?"
Hilma shrugs her shoulders. "Somewhere in the Quarter, where I am not sure."
Pierre picks up his silk suit jacket, brushing it off. "Never mind, Madame. It is of no consequence."
But Pierre can not get the feel of John's left hook from his memory. Or the feel of the satin and lace of Rosamond's underwear!



Part 76: Meanwhile, back at the Ranch...............by Coralynn

"Thank you for coming, Celeste," Bethiah holds open the door as Celeste enters with her usual duffle bag and a small suitcase. "I don't know when the others are going to get back, and I have to go to work; it was so kind of you to offer to stay with Little Will."
"No trouble at all, my dear," Celeste bustles in and deposits her baggage in the living room. "Now where is that little darling boy?"
"He played so hard last night that he isn't awake yet," Bethiah answers, "But it can't be much longer. You know, he has adjusted quickly to life in these modern times. We were all concerned about him missing the 12th century and living in the castle and all, but he acts like it was all a dream. Rosamond told him it was, and he seems to have believed it."
"Dear child," Celeste comments as she puts a kettle on the stove, "But how are you, Bethiah?"
"I'm doing well," Bethiah tells her as they sit at the table, "I am never going back to 1640; I like it here so much more. I have a fiance now named Steven. Of course I am busy learning all about the history in this country since I lived here so long ago, and I am also going back and forth in my mind over whether or not I should tell Steven that I was born in the early 1600s. What should I do?"
Celeste ponders this.
"I think you should just go on the way you are for now," she advises, "then at some later time you may want to tell him. Or not."
"I suppose," Bethiah bites her lower lip, "I hate to lie, though."
"I know, I know," Celeste nods, "but an actual lie is an act of comission, and not bringing it up is
an act of omission. He doesn't ask you a lot about your childhood?"
"No, thank goodness," Bethiah sighs, "that would put me on the spot."
Just then the loud sounds of arriving workmen intrude upon the peaceful atmosphere in the kitchen.
Ladders are slung up, and hammering is heard.
Celeste looks at Bethiah in a questioning way.
"Ohhhh, those are the workmen Rosamond hired to build an addition on to the house because she think Little Will needs his own bedroom. She wants her own room to herself, which is perfectly natural, though Big William suspects it's because she intends to have trysts in there."
Celeste laughs. "She is, after all, a normal woman, even if she is living in a time 900 years after her birth. Why should she not have a love life?"
"William seems bent on keeping her away from men, as he says she causes too much trouble and she will lie with anyone who wears pants!"
"At least she has come to the right Century for that!" laughs Celeste. "William should loosen up!"
"Who, William? Never! He acts like we are children and he is the great patriarch, which doesn't bother me all that much, but it drives Eleanor and Rosmond crazy. I find his rules and regulations very easy to live with, but then I am not a wild woman like those other two. Don't get me wrong; I enjoy their company, and I feel sisterly toward Eleanor, but I am nowhere near as bold and brazen as either of them."
"That is understandable," Celeste pats her arm, "You were all but broken in two by the Puritans. Are you glad to be away from them?"
"YES! The longer I am away from them the more I can see how brutal they were; how uncompromising, how almost mean."
"Ahhhhhh, my dear, it is good to have you here. What time do you have to be at work at the Colonial Village. Are they keeping it open year round?"
"They usually close around Nov first, they told me, but they are experimenting this year and keeping it open till Jan first so that people may come and see a Colonial Thanksgiving and Christmas. After that we have a few months off until Spring comes around again. I enjoy working there, and as time goes on I feel less and less like a person who truly lived there. It seems more like a long book I once read and that I can recall. Less and less real."
"You go get ready, now, don't worry about the house or little Will. I'll have a hearty meal for you when you get back. If at any time you feel the need to contact William, John, Eleanor and Rosemond, let me know. I can always make use of my trusty chrystal ball again."
Bethiah grins and gives her a hug.
"You're the best!" she says warmly, then goes up to her room to get ready for work.

Little Will comes toddling out of his room, "All that noise woke me up!" he complains, rubbing his eyes.
"Those men are loud, aren't they, Will? But they're making you a bigger room. You may even get a room just for toys!"
"TOYS?" the child's eyes light up. "You mean like my teddy here?"
"Oh yes, that and much more!" Celeste helps him up onto his chair. "Now, how about a nice warm bowl of oatmeal?"
"Yes!" little Will grins and grabs up his spoon.

The phone rings loudly.
Bethiah's voice is heard upstairs, "Can you get that, Celeste?"
Celeste answers the phone and hears the voice of an impatient man.
"Is Eleanor there?"
"Not at the moment. May I take a message?"
"YES!" the voice sounds irritated, "She missed the early morning meeting, and she knows she is supposed to attend these meetings just as everyone else who works at the station. She had better not be late tonight! She's on at 10 and needs to be here by 8 at the latest. Can you give her this message?"
"Surely, sir," Celeste assures him, "thank you for calling."
Bethiah comes down the stairs again.
"Was that for me?"
"No, it was for Eleanor!" Celeste answers, "The people at her television station are angry that she wasn't at this mornings meeting. They warned her to be at work this evening. Do you think she'll be back by then?"
"Celeste, dear, when those four take off on one of their time travels, anything is possible. Maybe she'll be back in time and maybe she won't. I have learned not to count on anything from that troupe of merry time troubadors. However, I do not complain. My life is so wonderful now I am grateful to them for having helped me so much. But though they have helped me enormously, sometimes they don't seem to be able to help themselves!!" and with a twinkle in her eye, she catches Vinnie's bus into the City.



Part 77: Jelly Roll and a Tootsie.....by Terri

William and the trio from Hell meet at Antoine's restaurant for breakfast.
William exclaims, "These are the best crepes in the world...the best!"
Eleanor is still planning on exploring the city. Rosamond is sulking and John is nursing his bruised knuckles from punching out Pierre DuPre's lights.
"Oh, come on, William. If we all stay together, I see no harm in it. We could always chain Rosamond to a bed! Oh, excuse me,....a chair!"
Rosamond sticks her tongue out at Eleanor.
Wiliam is starting to cave in. "Well, we could explore the architecture. And maybe
have a picnic by the river. We do have a while until we meet Mr. Morton. I am sure he will tell us where Henry is. We just have to get him out of here before Mr. LaRosa finds him."
That afternoon, the four of them go exploring the French Quarter. Eleanor exclaims, "It seems so different."
William explains, "It's because we are ninety years behind what you expected. I think you expected New Orleans in 2001, when actually we are in 1910."
They have a fun-filled day going down the brick streets, admiring the wrought iron balconies. Finally at the end of the day, they wind up at a little jazz club on Bourbon Street. Drinks are ordered all around. William has gin and tonic, John is a straight scotch drinker, Eleanor orders a zombie, and Rosamond, being the person she is, ordered a drink called 'Between the Sheets'.
Eleanor can't help laughing. "Rosie, what the heck IS it?"
Rosamond hiccups, "It's Califro-fro-fro--fornia brandy, rum, lemon and tri-hip-ple
sec. Very mellow. It's sherved over cracked eye-sh."
By this time, Eleanor and Rosamond have passed "GO" on the alcoholic Monopoly Board, collected their two hundred dollars and were well on their way to Boardwalk!
William is quite mellow, and John is relaxing with the jazz band.
"HEY!" Rosamond yells out "Do you take requests?" The band leader grins from ear to ear, "Yassum, what do you want to heah?"
Rosamond stands up, but barely. "Move over, dude...I'll sing ya a torch song!"
Before William can stop her, Rosamond is on stage. The band is following her along, keeping the melody pretty good. But the problem is,,,,Rosamond doesn't speak French and what she is singing was.....Lady Marmalade!"
Eleanor sits with her mouth open, then starts laughing so hard she can't stop.
"Leave it to Rosamond to sing a song that she has no idea what she is singing about!"
Rosamond starts singing, "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? Mocha-chocolata-ya-ya...Creole Lady Marmalade!"
At that moment, who should appear in the doorway but Pierre DuPre.
Naturally the song immediately catches his attention. "So the little tramp turns me out and then starts singing a song about...a prostitute?" He begins to do a slow burn. He still isn't over the embarrassment and humiliation of the confusion back at Hilma's. And his jaw is still pretty swollen. John looks up and sees Pierre in the doorway. He motions to William and says, "I think we had better get the girls out of here. I think trouble is lurking in the shadows."
William, being the quick thinker he is, motions to the barkeep. "Is there a back way out of here? The little lady singing has to be back at the convent before the nuns miss her."
"But Monsieur! I am so surprised! I thought she was a mademoiselle de nuit...a lady of the night She is a novitiate?"
Eleanor, in her drunken state and with her warped sense of humour, grabs the barkeep by his tie, drags his face up to hers, and whispers, "How do you think they paid for that nice stained glass window?"
William pushes her down in the chair and Eleanor collapses into giggles.
William explains to the barkeep, "Well, we are all saints and sinners, aren't we?
The poor wayward girl was made a ward of the nuns when her father...Mr. DuPre... couldn't control her...extreme misbehaviour. I heard he is in New Orleans looking for her. He is questioning everyone in establishments like this as to her whereabouts. If he should come looking for her, would you please tell him she is safe with the Ursuline Nuns?"
The barkeep just sits there with his mouth open. "Uh...yessir. I don't want any trouble, especially from Monsieur DuPre. I had no idea he had a daughter."
John looks at him sincerely. "I am afraid the girl has been an embarrassment to him. He doesn't mind knowing girls like this for himself, but let his daughter...his only daughter...run into such low sink of debauchery, there is no telling what he will do.
So mum's the word, n'est ce pas?"
"Ahhhhh...oui, Monsieu. Je comprends. I have a daughter myself."
William leans forward. "If you could just show us a back way, we will get Mlle.
Rosamond back to the nuns. She has these psychotic episodes every once in a while and escapes the convent. We have just found her so no harm is done."
The barkeep motions to the back room. "In here you will find a storeroom. You can go out there. It leads to the alley. Follow that up to St Peter street. It will lead you back to the convent. And God bless!" The barkeep makes the sign of the cross. "Such a poor child!"
With that, they drag Rosamond off the stage. "Wait! I was just about to give them my rendition of Peggy Lee's 'Fever'. It's a show-stopper!"
John hoists her up. "Yes, and the show stops here, Sugar!"
William has Eleanor by the arm. John is leading Rosamond out to the alley.
They head up St Peter to Royal Street and back to the Cornstalk house.

No sooner have they cleared the alley when Pierre DuPre walks in.
He says to the barkeep, "There was a young lady up here singing about five minutes ago. She was very pretty and very drunk. Do you know anything about her whereabouts?" He slides a hundred dollar bill across the counter.
The barkeep furtively reaches out and slides it towards himself. "Monsier DuPre, I did not know you had a daughter. I am happy to inform you that she is safe with the Ursuline Nuns. Not to fear, her guardians took her back."
Pierre DuPre's face darkens with rage. "I have no daughter! That was a whore who shortchanged me and when my back was turned, stole my wallet. I am looking for her to get my money back!" With that he slides another hundred dollar bill across the counter.
The barkeep eagerly reaches out for it. "Then I must inform you, Monsieur, that they went out the back door and into the alley. Where they are staying, I do not know but they headed south on St Peter and turned onto Royal."
With that, Pierre DuPre bids him a curt thankyou and slams the door behind him.

William and John dump the girls into their beds. William tells John, "I have to meet Mr. Morton at ten o'clock over at the Jackson Square statue. He should have some information for me. It is only three blocks away. Would you please sit here and guard
'Lady Marmalade' and the 'Joker' for me?"
John is glad to sit down. "Yeah, I'll go soak my hand in Epsom Salts."
William hurries to the Square in front of St Louis Cathedral. As he stands in front of the statue of Andrew Jackson, he hears a whisper.
"Yo, man...are you alone? It's Jelly Roll."
William whispers back, "Where are you? I can't see you."
"Over here. By the third pillar. Look to your right."
As William looks over and moves towards the shadow, there stands Jelly Roll Morton with Henry Tudor.
Henry and William exclaim at the same time, "Boy, am I glad to see YOU!!"

William runs up the stairs to the girls' room. John looks up expectantly.
"I am just checking in with you. I have Henry and Jelly Roll Morton down in the lobby. I have to go find out exactly what happened and hasten our departure. But it looks like Rosamond and Eleanor are out for the night. I will come back and let you know what is going on." William explains.
John lets out a big sigh. "Thank heavens you found him before LaRosa did. BE CAREFUL!"
William takes the stairs two at a time. Jelly has a sober look on his face and Henry is wet and shivering from cold.
"Come on." William says. "Is there an out of the way place we can go where we can talk unobserved?"
Jelly rubs his chin and thinks. "Yeah, follow me." They go down to St Peter Street and then turn onto Bourbon. They come upon a run-down cottage made of brick plastered over with stucco.
"Where are we?" William says dubiously.
Jelly pries the door open. "This heah is the headquarters of the Lafitte brothers. Jean and Pierre Lafitte were notorious blackmarketeers. Some say pirates. This was their
blacksmith shop but actually it was a front. Contraband was run out of here. Some say the plan for the Battle of New Orleans in 1815 was hatched here. No one will bother us in here."
William blows the dust off a chair. "OK, Henry, start flapping your gums and tell me exactly what happened."
Henry goes on to relate how Lola had been accidently shot by Nunzio LaRosa and how he had been on the run for the past 48 hours.
"I swear I didn't know Lola was dead when I left. Jelly told me after it happened.
I've been hiding out in the basement storeroom of the Funkybutt. La Rosa and his goons tossed my room, looking for me. Hilma and Jelly have been looking out for me. I have got to get out of here."
William looks long and hard at Henry. "I can't take you back to England. At least not yet. That time we were last there with you, Rosamond egged the Plantagenets on and flaunted John Gwinnett in front of Henry II. I can tell you, he is fit to be tied. The icing on the cake was when Rosamond had little Will kidnapped. Eleanor, Rosamond and I are productive members of the 21st Century. We have a big house in Chappaqua NY." William sighs. "I guess I will have to take you there until Henry cools his jets. By the way, how DID you end up in New Orleans at the turn of the last century?"
Henry confesses. "I took the coin out of your pocket and made a mold in the candle wax. I thought I would catch up with you in New York. Kind of a surprise."
"Or did you want to cash in on the sexual revolution, you randy old goat? I think you were looking for a nubile young thing to further your line!"
Henry says, "Whatever. Why didn't I end up in New York?"
William ponders this. "I am not totally in control of the coin. My guess is that you
made an imprint of only one side. For some strange mathematical equation I still cannot figure out, you ended up here. It is only providence that we happened to catch you on a television special on Jazz. We went to the library and looked up on the computer to see what happened to you. The internet said you disappeared. Our plan was to get you out of here before you were permanently dispatched to Old Man River."
Henry is incredulous. "Television? Computer? Internet?"
William sighs. "You'll find out. For tonight you can stay with me in the room. We will probably have to go back to New York tomorrow. John can sleep in the girls' room. Rosamond and Eleanor are pretty plastered. Rosamond has done some bonehead things in New Orleans and it would be best to get you both out of here.
But I can't do a thing until tomorrow. Mr. Morton...Jelly Roll....thank you for helping my corpulent recalcitrant. I and history are deeply indebted to you."
Jelly bows deeply. "I am pleased to be of service. I don't understand too much and it is better this way. No one would believe me anyhow."
Jelly turns to Henry. It is an awkward moment, then both men clasp each other in a bear hug. "Keep the wind at your back, man, and the wind coming out of your pipes! Don't stop tootin' the horn, Toots!"
Henry's eyes mist up. "How can I ever thank you for all you have done for me?
Jelly grinned, "Yeah, well, ya can't!"
William extends his hand to Jelly Roll Morton. "I can tell you one thing, Mr. Jelly Roll Morton. The world will not soon forget you. You WILL make your mark on the music history of the world."
Jelly grins. The diamond in his tooth sparkles. "Now THAT'S what I like to here!"
He turns down the street, whistling "Ain't Misbehavin' ".



Part 78: I Left My Tart in SanFrancisco? No.....the Big Easy!.....by Terri

William knocks softly on the door of the girls' room. John cautiously opens the door a crack. Seeing it's William, he opens it wider.
William says apologetically, "Sorry to disturb you, John. I have Henry with me. I am afraid I will have to take him to my room. Could you please stay with the girls? I hate to throw you into Rosamond's den but I really don't have much of a choice. And I would feel better if there was one of us with them. An enraged sugar planter can be kind of hazardous to your health."
John raises his hand to his forehead in a mock salute. "I am on duty, sir! Never mind the fair maidens. They are so plastered you could stucco a wall! Especially THAT little cupcake over there." Cupcake is totally passed out. Eleanor is sleeping soundly. "I don't expect any trouble out of them tonight."
William breathes a sigh of relief. "Thanks, John. We will meet at Cafe du Monde for our farewell beignets and coffee. The sooner we blow out of here the better. And speaking of blowing, I am afraid I will have to take our big blowhard Toots Tudor back with us until we get situated. The sooner I blow him back to Windsor the better I will like it. It's either that or let the Cannoli King finish him off. He'd cream Henry like ricotta in a second, stuff him in a pastry bag and fill a cannoli shell with him!"
John closes the door. William takes out the key and unlocks the door to his room.
"OK, 'Toots' you have to stay with me tonight. We will go back to Chappaqua and figure out where to go from there. At least you will be safe there. But don't get any high hopes of staying. First chance I get, you are outta there!"
Henry is sufficiently humbled. "I must extend my gratitude to you, William. I didn't mean for it to end up like this. All I wanted was a bit of fun."
Wiliam sighs. He shows Henry where the bath is and all the amenities that go with it. Henry closes the door and soon William hears him singing in the shower.
William rolls over and turns out the light. Lord, would it never stop? he asks.

The sun shines brightly in the room. Rosamond groans and squints her eyes as
Eleanor raises the shade. "Hey, Marmalade! Rise and shine--and isn't it a lovely morning?" Rosamond throws her pillow at Eleanor. "Eleanor, if there is one shred of decency in you, you will draw those blinds. Please--I am begging you!"
Eleanor gives her that infamous superior look. "Beg all you want, floozy! You missed a golden opportunity. For our very own Statue of David right now is taking a shower in OUR bathroom!"
Rosamond has not the foggiest idea of what Eleanor is talking about. She stumbles bleary-eyed into the bathroom. What was the shower on for? She draws back the curtains and lets out a blood-curdling scream. So does John Gwinett.
Their eyes lock. Then Rosamond drops her eyes and turns several shades of red. John grabs the shower curtain and yanks it shut. "Do you mind,
Rosamond?" Rosamond backs out of the bathroom and shuts the door. Eleanor slides down the wall, weak with laughter. "I told you!"
Rosamond blushes. "How was I to know what you were talking about? I thought you went over to Royal Street to one of those antique shops and bought some sort of sculpture that you were washing the mud off!"
John comes out of the bathroom and tells Eleanor, "It's your turn. There should be plenty of hot water."
Eleanor is still laughing. "OK, David--nice fig leaf you got there!"
John starts to smile. Rosamond starts to pout to cover her embarrassment.
"I don't know what Eleanor is talking about."
John explains. "The Statue of David is a very famous sculpture by Michaelangelo. It shows perfection of the male body--but it obscures certain parts with a fig leaf in some depictions. I guess Eleanor was just admiring my clothes."
Rosamond can't help but smile. "Frankly I prefer the statue 'The Kiss' by Rodin.
It depicts two lovers locked in an embrace."
There is a knock on the door. Rosamond opens it. William stands there. "We meet at Cafe du Monde in an hour. Be there--and ready to go!"
Rosamond sits on the bed and sighs. "Maybe it's this romantic town, John. The wrought iron lacy balconies, the scent of jasmine in the air, the warm breeze from the River...."
John leans over Rosamond and says "I have a feeling you'd be this way in a parka and an igloo, Rosie!"


Henry, William, Rosie, John and Eleanor all gather in the lobby of the Cornstalk house. William whips out his American Express. "Ah, Monsieur Dubois, we will be checking out today. I am settling up the bill."
Monsieur Dubois, his little moustache twitching, leans over the counter and pulls William by the necktie closer to him. Nervously, he whispers, "Monsieur de Conqueror, a man was here asking questions...a very important man. I have seen him down at the Exchange several times a year. He was in here last night looking for a young woman who fits the description of that one over there." He nods towards Rosamond. "The man was in an extremely bad mood....'bad weather in the body' we call it. Claims the woman was a lady of the evening who shortchanged him. But Monsieur, that cannot possibly be her? She looks so sweet...so innocent!"
William tries to keep the alarm out of his voice. "Ahh, Monsieur, he is mistaken.
But what did you tell him? Surely we do not want a case of mistaken identity and cause trouble for everyone involved."
Monsieur Dubois draws himself up to all five feet of his height. "Monsieur, I am not in the habit of giving out information concerning my guests. I told him in no uncertain terms that this is NOT Storyville, I do NOT run that kind of establishment. He went on his way but I daresay you should be careful. If this IS la jeune fille he is looking for, I predict trouble. Best beware!"
William grabs John by the arm and explains what is going on. Eleanor asks from across the lobby, "William, we would like to go to Cafe du Monde for one last beignet. Pleeeeeeeze? All we have are bagels and coissants at home. Oh, and if you DON'T let us, we are going anyway and you will be sorry because we will delay going home that much longer."
William could see it was a losing proposition. "Alright, Eleanor, but after that we simply MUST get going home. I for one will rest easier once we are in the 21st century again. "
William and the group sit down and order their beignets. Engrossed in the powdered sugar delights, the group sits around and talks about what they liked best about New Orleans.
William remarks on the variety of foods. "I should like to incorporate some of these exotic spices into my cooking show. I want to slip over to the French Market before we leave. There is a file powder I would like to get."
Henry sits there dreamily. "I don't know if I liked the food, the music or the women best. I guess this is what they mean by wine, women and song. I guess I liked the women best of all."
Eleanor says, "I think I liked watching the hustle and bustle of the city life. It is all so laid back and exciting at the same time. Or seeing Rosamond making a drunken scene in that blues club."
William turns to John. "John, what did you like best?"
Eleanor starts to laugh, "Yeah, John, what did YOU like best? The jasmine, the moonlight, Rosamond's underwear? Or the satisfaction of taking your pent up frustrations out on Pierre DuPre's jaw? Another man with the nerve and money..."
John's face darkens. "Shut up, Eleanor. I have an extremely violent headache from last night. As far as Rosamond is concerned...."
William glances around in alarm. "Rosamond? Rosamond? Where the HELL is she?"
Eleanor pooh-poohs William. "Oh, don't get your jocks in a twist, Billy-boy! Rosamond whispered to me she was going to have one last look at the view of St Louis Cathedral from the River. She walks over to the Moonwalk. She'll be right back!"
William and John both jump up, knocking their chairs backward.
William races out of the Cafe with John close behind him. Rosamond is nowhere in sight!



John and William both race down towards the River. William stumbles on the dewy grass. In the distance, they see Rosamond at the River's edge. She is struggling to get free from a man...and that man was the one who had been stalking them.
John and William skid to a stop when they see that Pierre DuPre has a derringer in his right hand and his left hand clamped around her mouth. She is bear-hugged against his body.
When John and William discover what is going on, they freeze in their tracks.
"Put your hands up and keep them up! I mean business! No one makes a fool of me in this town. NO ONE!" Pierre is definitely unhinged. He looks like he has been drinking in every establishment along Bourbon Street, although his clothes are impeccable. John tries to reason with him.
"What do you want with Rosamond? She is of no value to you. She is just a woman who got sucked into a bad situation. She's not the kind of woman that you think she is. " William mutters under his breath, "I hope you don't get struck dead for lying, John!"
Pierre is livid with rage. "This tramp led me on. She refused me. NO ONE has ever refused me before. Do you realize who I am? I am the biggest sugar planter this side of the Mississippi! Since I saw her in Hilma Burt's, I can't think of anyone else."
William says soothingly, "But Mr. DuPre, Rosamond is like a little sister to us. Would you have someone disrespect YOUR sister this way?"
Pierre DuPre snarls, "I don't have a sister."
Pierre is holding onto Rosamond tighter and tighter. She quits struggling. But her eyes look like a deer caught in the headlights.
Pierre points his derringer at John and William. "So just turn around and go back to the Cafe. Perhaps when she returns to you, she will be a better woman! IF I let her return to you! But I am betting once this Rosamond has been with me, she will be more than willing to stay. Have you heard of the quadroon arrangement?"
John and William both look at each other. Quadroons?
Pierre is exasperated. "How can you be from New Orleans and not know of the quadroons? A powerful man of Creole Society will attend the Quadroon Balls. And they say slavery is dead! HAH! Basically what they are, are balls where the mulatto women put their daughters on the figurative slave auction. But instead of buying them outright, we gentlemen pick who we like and discuss the arrangements--the placage."
John and William still stand there with their mouths open. Pierre is incredulous.
"Do I have to spell it out for you two dolts? These quadroons are white mens' mistresses! They are taken care of in return for unlimited favors. Whenever and wherever and however."
William whispers to John, "Rosamond's former career! Maybe she can figure a way out of it herself? After all, she handled that mess in England!"
But John whispers out of the side of his mouth, "But the Plantagenets didn't have guns, only swords."
William decides to play a trump card. "Well, DuPre, if that is what you have in mind, take her! There is something you should know--Rosamond is not the innocent child/woman she pretends to be--oh no! Rosamond could put every quadroon in New Orleans to shame! You see, Rosamond has been the courtesan of kings! Yes, that's right--Rosamond has been the toast of England. And probably France--which would make her French toast!"
Rosamond is able to free her mouth from DuPre's grip. "William, what are you saying? " , she begs. "For heaven's sake, help me!"
William continues, "You see, Rosamond knew you were a rich planter. She wanted to see how far she could take you and how much she could take you for. What were her exact words, John? Oh yes, now I recall, 'If that Frenchy thinks he can just take me anytime he wants, he has another think coming. An unlimited income...a big plantation house and all the house servants I could want. All I need to do is hold out until he can't stand it any longer. I know the type--he wants to play the rich and powerful man's game. Mark my words, by the end of this little charade, Mr. Pierre DuPre will be MY slave!' Wasn't that what she said, John? Oh, and she was laughing, too, when she said it!"
By now Pierre DuPre is staring at the two men, trying to comprehend the fact that he was made a fool, that Rosamond had planned from the start to take him with her innocent child routine when she was...was,,,,,all along!
What Pierre DuPre DOESN'T see is Eleanor coming behind him. She creeeps up slowly, then hits him in the head with a sling-back pump. He falls to the ground.
Eleanor wraps a black stocking around his hands and ties it into a knot. Before he can bellow out, Pierre feels something black and silky being stuffed in his mouth.
Henry is sauntering over, beignets in hand and powdered sugar on his face.
William and John both lunge forward and grab Rosamond's arms.
Wiliam, sweat running down his face, grabs everyone. "NOW! NOW! We must leave NOW!"
The experienced travelers grasp each other's hands frantically. Henry is pulled into the circle. "HEY! I'm spilling cafe au lait all over me!"
William yells, "It's now or never!"
The air begins to shimmer and glow, and spin faster and faster around them.
Within seconds, they qre in their back yard in Chappaqua.
Rosamond starts kicking William in the shins. "What were you trying to do, get me ravished by that demented lecher? Offering me up on the slave auction? Just who do you think you are?"
William is trying to dodge Rosamond's well-placed kicks.
John turns to Eleanor. "Fast work, Eleanor. However did you manage all that?" he asks appreciatively.
Eleanor smiles in satisfaction, "How can you forget that I was the number one jouster at the Renaissance Festival, Mr. John Gwinnett! Oh, I left a little something for Monsieur Pierre DuPre to remember Rosamond by."

Pierre DuPre manages to free himself from his bonds. He spits his gag out. He picks it up and looks at it. The label on his gag read, "Victoria's Secret"!
Part 79: A House without a Moat is like a Fish without a Bicycle.........by Coralynn



Bethiah, looking from the kitchen window, sees our time travelers touch down, and runs out to greet them.
"Thank goodness you got back! Eleanor, the TV station's been phoning, saying you're late for a meeting."
"Looks like I'd better get into the City right now," Eleanor responds, "Though I hate to leave Henry here without proper supervision."
Henry8's eyes grow round then he frowns,
"Supervision?!" he blurts out, "I am a King, and do not require your supervision! I have managed to live without your prying eyes on me for a long, long, time, Eleanor!"
"Yes," she agrees, "and look where it's gotten you! You managed to land 90 years behind us and over 2000 miles away. That was good going, pal!"
Henry looks down at the ground, "I didn't know just where you were anyway," he complains.
"For good reason, Henry," William puts in, "We had no idea you planned to join us. We rescued you so that we could send you back to the English Court."
"Back!?" Henry looks stricken, "Back? Nay, William, I am not going back. I am sticking around here. I want to find out what's so wonderful about the 21st Century that you and your buddies have decided to make it your home."
We shall see," William answers, realizing that it will be hard if not impossible to take Henry back without his cooperation.
Eleanor dashes into the house to get ready for work.
Soon Celeste joins them, with little Will following behind, looking at Henry8th with surprise and not a little fear.
"I saw you before!!" little Will exclaims, "in that long dream I had about living at Court. You were a scary person in my dream. What are you doing here?" his eyes are round.
"Dream?" Henry is confused.
Rosamond interrupts, "I'll tell you about it later, Henry. In the meantime, will you please try to look less threatening? Will is but 4 years old and easily frightened."
"Harummmmph" is about all Henry is capable to saying.

"How do you like our new home?" William asks Henry, gesturing around the grounds and toward the house, where workmen are busily constructing the addition.
"Looks like you are still building it!" Henry comments, "This does not look like anything I have seen before. Where's the moat?"
"We don't need a moat," Celeste says gently, "We live in the 21st century, Henry, and moats are out of style."
"Who's she?!" he demands, glaring at Celeste.
"A kindly lady who is keeping our house clean and helping out with little Will, so you'd better treat her with respect, Henry!" William warns him.
Henry is now becoming curious about this house, and strides toward it, the others trying to keep pace.
He enters the back door, which opens into the kitchen, and looks around. He points to the sink, the stove, the refrigerator, the microwave with a puzzled expression.
"What in bloody blue blazes are these contraptions?"
Bethiah, the expert on running the nuts and bolts of the house, explains to him, one confusing contraption after the other.
Many of her explanations so right over his head.
"Where did Eleanor go?!" he is looking around for her.
"She went off to her job," Rosamond says, "She's on TV, on the News. She reports the sporting events. SEE? There's the television over there. Go over and push that lever."
Henry does so, and in just a few seconds a picture appears with very loud sound blaring from the box.
"Turn down the sound," John suggests.
"HOW?!" Henry is covering his ears.
"Here, see this? It's a remote control....and if you push this lever thusly, the sound gets softer."
"This looks like a madhouse," Henry complains, "but still.......it has possiblities. Now, what did you say about Eleanor on TV? Is she going to appear in the box?"
"YES!" Bethiah says enthusiastically, "You will see her in just a few hours. Won't that be amazing?"
Henry shakes himself as a Saint Bernard would after having been wading in deep water.
He sits heavily on one of the plush, soft leather couches and sinks almost to the floor.
"Oh-oh," Rosamund dashes over, "Those sofas are awfully soft, Henry, and you may wish to sit on a sturdier chair. See these?" she gestures to the chairs with levers.
"Get me UP!" he roars.
It takes both William and John to extricate Henry from his disappearing act within the folds of the couch.
Henry waddles over to one of the other chairs, sits on it, says "This is better," then examines the lever on the side. Before anyone can explain what they're for, he has hurled himself across the room.
"That chair comes alive!" he is terrified, "It raised up and tossed me across the room! Who do you have in there anyway, King John? He would do something that mean, but I didn't expect such treatment from YOU!" he glares at William.
"Just don't touch the lever on the side of the chair, Henry," he advises.
"Is it someone's idea of a joke?" Henry can't let it go.
"Ohhhhh, it was a joke all right!" Rosamond can't help but laugh, "though we never expected to come across such a large projectile!"

A loud, roaring sound comes from outside the front of the house. Alarmed, Henry dashes to the window and looks out.
"I've seen cars before!" he congratulates himself. "One of the rich men in New Orleans had one, but it didn't look much ilke this one here! Who is that person getting out and walking toward the house? Should we call the guards to check on him?"
"We don't have guards," Bethiah tells him, "and we know this person. He's Bill. He used to be President of this country."
"What's a President? Is that like a KING?" Henry uses the only analogy he knows.
"Not exactly," William begins, but by then the doorbell is ringing, and he opens it to see Bill standing there holding a sheaf of photographs.
"Got the pictures developed," Bill exudes, "And some of them are real winners!" He fans them out on the coffee table.
"Ohhhh, look at this one," Rosamond exclaims, "Ahhh, here's one of John; he doesn't look happy, the miserable wretch."
As the group gathers around Bill and his pictures, Henry is again nonplussed as he has no idea how these pictures came to be.
"No picture of me!" he says archly.
"You weren't there at the time, Henry!" Bill tells him. "Everyone thought William had taken you off somewhere. They were searching high and low for you."
"You were the KING here, is that right?" Henry interrogates Bill, "Why are you not wearing a crown, and why are you still not on the throne?"
"Ohhhh my," Bill laughs, "you have a lot to learn, Henry. I'm sure William can explain it all to you later. You see, I'm one of the only people who knows the secret about how our friends here came to time travel to the 21st century. No one else must know, as it sounds so implausable. Promise you won't go around telling folks, OK? They would not understand, and they would very possibly think you are all insane and lock you up in a mental institution."
"No one locks ME up!" Henry says with an air of braggadocia.
"Just don't tell anyone. Trust me," William adds to what Bill has just said. "The people here believe we are eccentric, but they don't know our true identities."
Bill straightens up from the crouched position he has been in while looking at the photos on the coffee table. "I have an idea, Henry. If it's alright with the rest of you, how would it be if I took Henry on a tour of the area?"
After a few moments comtemplation, they all agree that it would be good for Henry if Bill took him around and taught him more about the new century.
"OK, then, let's hit the road!" Bill claps Henry on the shoulder and pulls him toward the door.
"I have to get in THAT?!" Henry hates to show fear, but this vehicle is an unknown quantity. The little putt-putt auto he saw in New Orleans moved very slowly, yet when Bill pulled into the driveway, he looked to be going very fast indeed.
"I can do that," Henry says to gather up his courage, "Yes, I can do that!"
He follows Bill outside, as the others breathe a sigh of relief.
"I just hope this was a good move," John says to William, "Do you think Bill can handle Henry? Think he can keep Henry's big mouth shut when they're out in public?"
"It is imperative that Bill keep a lid on Henry, and I think he understands the consequences of the real story getting out. You heard what he said about it to Henry. He's by far our best ally here."

The sound of the car motor revving up brings their attention to the window, and looking out, see Henry sitting ramrod straight, clutching the dashboard.
The vehicle soon backs up, then turns onto the road. Bill steps on the gas, and they can't help noticing Henry grasping wildly for the seat belt.
They look at each other, laugh, and proceed into the kitchen for coffee. Lots of good, strong coffee.


Henry is still gripping the armrest on his side of the car, unsuccessfully trying not to look terrified. Bill is laughing inside and driving faster and faster.
Henry finally blurts out, "This is too fast, Bill! Can you slow it down a bit?"
"Why of course," Bill obliges by slowing up to about 35 mph. Since they're coming into a town, that's a good idea anyway.
Henry is asking questions now that he isn't afraid for his life.
"What is that large building over there that goes on forever?"
"That's the supermarket. Wanna stop and look around in there?"
"Yes! That would be excellent, Bill. What does anyone do with a building that large? It isn't a castle, so why on earth would anyone need a house that large?"
"It's not exactly a house," Bill informs him as they park and get out of the car.
"Not a house!" Henry echoes, as the walk toward the store.
"Nooo, this is a place where one buys food,! Bill finishes.
"Buys food. No one has their own pigs and cows anymore? They have to buy their food from a big building? HUH!"
As they enter the supermarket, Bill takes a cart and begins wheeling it to the produce department. He looks behind him to make sure Henry is following, but Henry is still standing near the entrance, gazing about, open-mouthed.
He soon looks for Bill, and, spotting him, makes his way over to where Bill is looking at apples.
"This is incredible, Bill. How do they DO this?"
"People in towns don't grow their own food, or slaughter their own animals anymore," Bill tells him, "but some large farms do. They then bring their produce to this large supermarket and the towns-people get it here. The system works well."
Henry accepts that explanation.
He glances around at the other shoppers. They are dressed differently from the people he saw in 1910 New Orleans. Yes, the clothing was definitely different. He notices one especially pretty woman; walks over to her and gives her a pinch on the bottom. It isn't every day that a woman is fortunate enough to be pinched by Royalty, after all.
She wheels on him and smacks his face.
"Keep your filthy hands to yourself!" she yells, which causes other shoppers to look their way. Several women cluster around the 'attack victim' and add their disdain. "What an old pig he is. He'd better not live around here! Wait till word gets out. He could be brought up on charges."
Henry returns to where Bill is now examining the canteloupe.
"I did not mean any harm," he says contritely.
"Henry," Bill is being as patient as he can, "You must not do anything until you check it out with me or with one of the others back at the house. You can't behave like you're Henry8. You have to pretend to be a regular guy. No special favors. Regular guy; fit in, blend in. Otherwise you may see the inside of a few jails."
"Oh my! That does sound bad, Bill," Henry is rubbing the back of his neck, still a bit confused, "OK, then, I'll behave exactly the way you do. Do you behave well all the time, Bill?"
Bill clears his throat and mutters, "Not always. But I'm improving."
"You seem like a man I could learn from, Bill. Can I visit you at your home? Do you have a wife? Can I meet her? I have to figure out what I can and cannot get away with in this odd century you are all living in."
"My wife does not know about the time travel, Henry, and even if she did, she would not be very friendly toward you. You did execute a couple of your wives. Hillary finds that offensive."
"Who cares? She's just a woman!" Henry states the obvious.
"Saying things like "just a woman" will get you into a heap of trouble, Henry. Please, please don't say anything till you clear it with me. If anyone finds out who you truly are, the others will be in danger, not just you."
"What danger?"
"The danger of being ostracized as a nutcase!"
"Alright then. You can be my teacher. And I won't meet your wife. She sounds fierce. OUR women back at Court were all soft and pliable."
"HA! You know better than that, Henry. Eleanor, for one, is about as soft as this frying pan here," he says as he picks up a pan and gives it a thunk.
At that both men laugh heartily.
The cluster of women are still staring, however, so Bill hurries Henry out of the store.
"We should get you some new clothing. You do look rather antiquated in those duds."
Henry likes that idea. Yes, some new clothing would be wonderful. He hasn't been able to change clothes in many days.


As they drive futher down the street, Bill sees a men's clothing store and pulls into the parking lot.
"Remember, Henry, just follow my lead."
Henry manages a broad smile and follows Bill into the store, which contains rack upon rack of shirts, ties, pants, sweaters, as far as the eye can see, or so it appears to Henry.
The clerk hurries over to them and, recognizing Bill, is very solicitous and friendly.
"What can I do for you today, President Clinton?" he almost grovels.
"He's not President anymore, there fella," Henry informs him, "He's just one of us regular guys!" and looks to Bill for approval.
Bill manages a wan smile of encouragement, but wonders why his companion seems to stick his foot in his mouth even when he's trying not to.

An hour later, the two men emerge from the store; Henry outfitted in casual chic. Nice pants, a white shirt, blue cardigan sweater, loafers on his feet.
"This is not a bad look," he comments, "You had to pay for all this, though. I shall give you funds from the royal treasury."
"You don't have access to the royal treasury anymore, Henry. Remember?"
"Of course. Well, now, what can I use to pay you? How do the others pay for what they get?"
"They have all taken jobs, Henry. They are paid for doing their jobs, and with that money they buy their food, their clothing, and pay for the house they bought. Three of them have jobs on TV. When we get back to your house we may be able to catch an installment of 'As The Planet Turns,' the soap Rosamond is starring in."
"Soap??!!"
Bill shakes his head. It's exhausting trying to explain everything to this man who is so many centuries behind in his history.
"You'll catch on to the words we use in time, just relax for now and try not to do anything rash. Please!"
"Rash. I had a bad rash once. All over my backside. Oh how it itched. Ever have a rash like that?"
This is hopeless, Bill thinks, shaking his head.


Back at the house, the only people home are Bethiah and Celeste and John.
"Where's William?" Henry demands, "Does he have a job too? Is he at his job??"
"Yes, but he should be back soon," John says, "but you're just in time to see the episode we taped of As The Planet Turns."
"YOU, too? You're in the SOAP?"
John wonders how Henry knows this term, but turns on the TV and, as the opening theme begins, decides that Bill must have been teaching him a few modern terms. Poor man, what a job he has in front of him, to bring the likes of Henry up to date!

The story line unfolds, and sure enough, John and Rosamond both appear in the box, I mean the TV.
"Why is she treating you so badly, John?" Henry wants to know.
"This is just a story. The person she's pretending to be is angry because she thinks I'm the father of the baby the Minister's daughter is about to give birth to."
"And ARE you?" Henry becomes more interested.
"It makes no difference; it's just a story," John says as he walks into the kitchen for a glass of water.
"When do I get to see William?" he is now thinking this TV thing is pretty riveting.
"Hmmmm, I think they're showing a repeat, 'the Best of William the Conquering Chef' right after the Soap ends," John says as he comes back in with his glass of water.
"You seem in good hands now, Henry," Bill says as he takes leave, "I'll be checking back on you tomorrow. Remember what I told you!"
"RIGHT!" Henry smiles and waves as the other man closes the door behind him.

After several more hours of TV watching, including William's cooking show which amazes himm with some of William's antics so outrageous they cause him to laugh so hard he almost chokes, Henry is beginning to think HE should get a job on TV.
John rolls his eyes. Bethiah tells him it is not an easy thing to land a job on TV, so he might want to think of another job as well, just in case.
"Well, this IS my first full day here," Henry concludes, "I have seen some wondrous things. By the way, when does Eleanor come on the TV? If you don't mind, I'll take a nap in my bed chamber till then. Be sure to wake me before she shows up on the TV. Where is my bedchamber, by the way?"
"You don't actually have a bedchamber," Bethiah says as sympathetically as she can muster, "You may have to sleep on the couch."
"On THAT thing?" Henry is incredulous, "It all but swallowed me alive when I sat on it. Sleep on it? Oh no, no, that will never do."
John is becoming annoyed. "The floor won't swallow you, Henry, so that may be a better place for you to sleep."
"Wait till William gets home," Henry is beginning to raise his voice, "He will be sure to get me my own bedchamber! Royalty does not sleep on the floor!"
As if in response, Wililam at that moment walks into the house.
"I could hear you clear outside, Henry," he tells him, "And NO you don't get your own bedchamber. You aren't staying here very long, remember? I did bring home a tent for you, however, which will have to do. We can put it up in the back yard right now if you'd like."
"A tent?"
"Yes, a tent. With a thick, goosedown sleeping bag. Supposed to be good to about 20 below zero. Should keep you toasty warm and comfy!"
Henry is really steamed now.
John volunteers to help William erect the tent in the yard, and they go out back to do just that.
Henry is still sitting in one of the chairs with the levers, fuming.

Eleanor breezes in.
"Well, you old poop, what have you been up to today?" she asks Henry.
He looks grim.
"You didn't have any fun? Pity!" she laughs.
In a small voice, he tells her, "they are making me sleep in a tent in the back yard, Eleanor. What kind of abuse is that?!"
"For you, it's better than you deserve, you wife murderer!" Eleanor throws over her shoulder as she goes up the stairs to change into her casual clothes.
It occurs to Henry that mayhap they are trying to make his life in the 21st century miserable so that he will be glad to leave and go back to Court. They keep telling him he's not staying with them. They keep telling him he's going back. Oh no, he thinks, I am not. I am going to play along and pretend I like sleeping in this wretched tent. I will eat their miserable food without complaint. I will do whatever it takes, but they aren't going to succeed in driving me away. Why, he concludes, this could actually end up being fun!!



Part 80: Morning has Broken......by Coralynn

Friday morning dawns crisp and cold. One might say the frost is on the pumpkin.
Out in the back yard, Henry8 is tossing and turning in his sleeping bag, cussing out his bad fortune.
"Those miserable rotters are trying to make my life a living hell so that I'll be eager to return to Court, but I won't go, I won't!!"
He weighs his current lifestyle against the one he had back in England as the ruling Monarch, and it comes out a draw. He was the boss when he was King, but here there are supermarkets and fast cars and women who wear those short skirts and show their legs.
Also, this place and time has electricity; why he even has an outlet right there in his tent. He plugs in the radio they gave him and turns the knobs. Loud music blares forth.
He fiddles around till he comes on the most raucous music he can find, and lies there snickering. HE can play this game, too. He can make them miserable, and there is nothing they can do about it.
Soon he tires of this music himself and turns it off. Egads, he thinks, who actually listens to that garbage?
Hmmmmm, there's a shed not far from the tent.
He crawls out of his sleeping bag, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, which is very slow going for someone so corpulent. After wiggling half way out he then notices the zipper along the side. Giving it a good yank, it opens the rest of the sleeping bag.
"Good!" He won't forget the zipper from now on.
He walks over to the shed and looks in. Various gardening implements are leaning against one of the inside walls.
He recognizes the shovel; seems there was something similar back in England; yes, he saw men digging trenches with these things. Trenches and moats.
Henry gets a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Taking a good sized spade with a very long blade, he sinks it into the soft ground not far from the tent. Goes right down into the ground with little effort.
After having discarded the soil from that spadefull, he tries another, right next to it.
This is easy. He continues to dig away soil in a circle around his tent.
"A-ha!" he announces to a squirrel nearby, "I have made me a Moat! No one shall cross into my domain unless given permission. I will construct a drawbridge to keep out bandits and knaves. Yay, I will have my own kingdom again at last!"
By then he is most of the way around the circle, laughing, snickering, and dancing with glee.

John is up early, putting water in the coffee maker, stretching and yawning, when he hears laughter.
Going to the kitchen window, he sees Henry outside digging up the yard.
In alarm, he quickly slides on his slippers and rushes out.
"What are you doing, man??" he yells.
"This is my domain, youngster," Henry says with an air of superiority, "And I am protecting my kingdom from interlopers."
"But you can't do that!" John is now running down the stairs of the outside deck and back to where Henry is still vigorously shoveling away.
"I am a King, and I can do whatever I want to. It has ever been thus," Henry informs him.
"William will be furious," John warns him, "He will have your head!!"
"OH now that IS funny!" Henry laughs, "What can he do?"
"He can send you back to Court!"
"Not if I don't want to go! And I will be digging wherever I choose until I get a proper bedchamber. If I am to be banished to the wild outdoors, I will protect myself the only way Royalty knows how......with a moat. Tell that to William...."
But no one has to tell William, because, at that moment he is also looking out and, seeing Henry and the moat, throws on a robe and thunders outside.
"NO, Henry, you cannot do that!"
"I can!" Herny stands his ground.
"The township has rules about what you can and cannot do with your property, and digging a big ditch in the back yard is not on the list of approved amenities. We can get in big trouble. What if you hit a gasline with that shovel? Such a rupture could send the entire neighborhood into the sky!"
"Into the sky?!" Henry does not grasp this.
"YES! The gas could leak and catch fire and explode and we would all be blown to bits!"
"Hmmmmmmmm," Henry ponders this.
"Fill that ditch back in and do it pronto!" William commands him.
Both William and John go to the shed and also grab shovels, and the three work as fast as they can to fill in where Henry's Moat used to be.
"No moat," Henry moans and sits on the little chair, the only piece of furniture in his tent. It immediately breaks beneath his great weight.
He looks up at William, who is still looking very stern, and asks, "Is there a way I can get some more furniture in here?"
"YES!" William announces, pretending to be happy about it, "You can get a bloody JOB! You get a job and buy your own blasted furniture!"
As William and John retreat back into the house, Henry thinks, well, Bill warned me there'd be days like this.



Part 81..........Henry 2nd, the Dead-Beat Dad........by Terri


Rosamond comes into the kitchen early in the morning wearing a white lacy teddy with matching robe and Barbie-doll high heel slippers with white fur trim.
William sighs. "Rosamond, if you insist on being dressed like a two-bit chippy, please confine it to your boudoir. There are workmen here."
Rosamond looks down at her apparel. "I don't see what is so bad, William. I saw that Victoria's Secret special last night. This very outfit was on TV. And .." she whispers conspiratorially, "....the honorable John Gwinnett has a Sports Illustrated
Swimsuit issue in his room!"
William looks her dead in the eye. "And what were you doing in John's room?"
Rosamond looks guiltly, "I was looking for a pen. I think I should write to Henry Plantagenet and let him know what is going on with his son. Maybe I can try to get child support for Wills. After all, I saw on a talk show..."
William grabs Rosamond by the laced up front. "Don't push it, cookie! Henry is not stupid. If he ever figures out a way to get to the 21st century, your 'butt' will be grass. I am using a nicer word here, mind you...and Henry will be the lawnmower!"
Rosamond gets a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "Henry, I learned a little something in this century. It's called sexual harrassment and if you don't let go of my bustier, I will go to the scandal sheets and tell them chickens aren't the only ones with breasts that you have your cold hands on! Imagine the headlines...."
William withdraws his hands as if he has been burned. Then he starts to laugh.
"You know what they say, there is no such thing as bad publicity. Maybe I can play up the Conqueror bit."
Rosamond begins to laugh, too, but she leans a little too close to William for comfort.
William pushes her down in the chair. "OK, Rosie, come clean..what is up with you?"
Rosamond's eyes begin to fill with tears. "I miss Henry but I think I am falling in love with John Gwinnett! I have tried every way I know to let him know that I want him but with no success!"
William assumes a Father Knows Best air. "Rosamond, you have all the subtlety of a Sherman tank. Why do you try so hard to get him into your bed? Know you not from all your time as a mistress to Henry that men prefer the chase? Let John come to you. I think you frighten him. He has a Puritan's heart. The court of the Plantagenets was a lusty atmosphere. Back off, sweetheart. I think he cares for you but does not know that it is all right to."
Rosamond throws her arms around William. "Thanks, 'Dad'! You are the greatest! But I think I shall write to Henry now and at least keep him updated on Will."
Rosamond sits down at her desk. She pulls out the stationary with the little rosebuds on it. She didn't think Henry would understand the paper with the big yellow circles with a crude face on it...Smiley Faces, she thought they were called.
She leans back and gazes out the window. She begins to daydream of her time in England. What a wonderful summer that was! How she turned Henry's head and the voltage crackled through the air. Of their first kiss...right in the pantry of the larder. And Eleanor was right in the dining area! Oh, and the field of daisies,,,,She brought herself out of her reverie. She turns to the paper and begins to write:
"My dearest Henry, I thought I would update you on what has happened to us since I last wrote to you. As usual, Henry Tudor got himself in a bit of a pickle. To make a long story short, he was again the cause of a young woman's demise. She paid the ultimate price for loving that fat toad...no, he didn't cut her head off! Quite the opposite. She was...shot?...trying to protect him. It's like shooting someone with an arrow but it's a long cylinder with a piece of metal and it comes out at lightning speed and pierces the flesh. Quite painful and pretty fast-acting. Well, the five of us had to go to a town named after Orleans, France and get him. New Orleans is filled with sugar planters who like black silk. Henry was almost a century behind us but about seven ahead of you. Anyways, we are stuck with his obnoxious presence until we feel comfortable about sending him back.
Please tell Elizabeth Tudor not to worry about her dad. He is safe and sound. But I guess since he killed her mother, perhaps she doesn't care.
Little Will is just blossoming. He watches Barney, which is like a dragon without the fire, on what we call a Television. It is like a pageant that we had a court but on a small box. If I ever see you again, I feel you owe me what they call 'child support' here. Never mind, we can work that out when I see you again.
Now, about you and me...I just don't know about it, Henry. I used to think the sun rose and set in you. But I think we are at a fork in the road to our journey together and maybe it is time for you to go one way and I another.
We are still in Chappaqua. Eleanor is now a news caster. It is like a town crier but she is on that little box we call television (or TV for short).
John Gwinett has been wonderful to Wills. He takes him fishing and last week he helped him put together his little bicycle. It is like a wagon but with a seat and only two wheels." There was more....a lot more.
Rosamond seals it with a little sticker that said, "Have a Nice Day!"
She takes it down to William. "Here. I let him know what was going on...and a lot of personal stuff! Don't you dare open it and read it!'
When Rosamond leaves the room, William puts the letter and the coin in the blender. The blender began to shake and glow. The letter spins faster and faster until it disappears.. William sighs. Maybe I should have steamed it open and at least checked her spelling!....

Henry Plantagent is brooding in the courtyard. Two months and nowt a word from that wench! He kicks a stone and then throws it at the hound. What a foul mood I am in, he muses.
Ferguson, his Lord of the BedChamber, comes to him with a note. "This was found on your pillow, Your Majesty. It appears to be from...Scotland, maybe?"
Henry recognizes the handwriting. Rosamond!! Maybe she is telling me when she is coming back and I can kick that serving wench out of my life! A poor substitute for my Rosie! Henry eagerly tears open the envelope and skims the contents. One name kept leaping up at him. John Gwinnett....John Gwinnett....John Gwinnett....John...wait a minute! CHILD SUPPORT? Is she out of her mind? 'Fork in the road?' Where is she getting all these ideas?
Henry's face darkens with rage. John Gwinnett was behind all this. Bad enough that Rosamond had dallied with Richard. Everyone knew that Richard was no threat, he was a 'pouf'! Henry wonders how far it has gone with Mister Gwinnett. And was he now taking over the role of father to little Wills?
Henry is not one to take a loss lightly. He saddles up his stallion and rides hard for hours, trying clear his mind. He comes back to the castle, dripping wet from rain and sweat, grabs a bottle of Burgundy and the nearest serving girl, kicks his hound out of the way and mutters drunkenly, "Damn you, Rosamond! Child support, my arse!"

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