Scott led Betty to the edge of the street. They looked around, marvelling at the fresh, summer day, a definite contrast to the chill, grey afternoon they had been expecting. Birds chirped in the trees, and the breeze rustled the green leaves in the trees.
"I can't believe it!" Betty breathed. "Have we really gone back in time? To the Civil War era?"
Scott nodded as he looked up and down the street, eyes searching for something. "Yep, I think so, Betty. Pretty nifty, isn't it? Ah! Here we go." Scott waved his arm in the direction of an approaching horse-and-carriage. He turned to Betty. "Shall we go for a ride?"
Betty's eyes widened. "You're kidding!" she whispered frantically, as the cab approached. "How are we going to pay for it?"
"Oh, don't worry about that, Betty Roberts," Scott whispered back. "It won't be the first time I've finagled my way out of a fare."
"That, I can believe," Betty sighed, as the cab pulled up to a stop in front of them.
The driver reigned in the horses, and addressed Scott. "Yes, sir, how may I help you?"
Scott held out a hand, and gallantly assisted Betty in boarding the carriage. He followed her into the open-air seating, and said breezily, "Driver, take us to the Lincoln...um, I mean the Jefferson Memorial, if you would, my good man."
"Certainly, sir," the driver said cheerily, as he started his horses once again.
As they moved off, Betty snuggled in just a bit closer to Scott, who couldn't help but smile delightedly.
*****
The Watcher sat, hidden, perched on a limb up high in one of the trees near the Jefferson Memorial. He waited silently, watching all around. His task was simple. Keep watch for certain rogue elements, namely, anything out of the ordinary that might endanger the vital mission of the League of Darkness.
The Watcher flicked his head towards the Memorial upon hearing a high-pitched scream. His zoom eyepiece clicked into motion, bringing the view of his quarry even closer. It was nothing. A small female child was being reprimanded by its parental unit. The child seemed to have dropped one of the frozen iced cream delicacies favored by the idle rich. The parental unit, a "mother", judging by the clothing and the hair, grabbed the child's arm and led the girl away. The Watcher's eyepiece ratcheted back to normal magnification.
Another sound caused another turn of the head. This time it was an adult male berating what appeared to be another adult male. The noise-making male, who sat at the front of a horse-and-carriage, was also making rude hand gestures at the other male, who was helping an adult female disembark from the cab. The female stood quietly as her male compatriot humbly accepted the verbal abuse from the driver of the cab. Finally the driver threw up his hands in what appeared to be annoyed defeat, and directed the horses to move the now-empty carriage along, leaving the other male and his female standing in front of the Jefferson Memorial.
The Watcher zoomed his eyepiece in further. There was something odd about these two newcomers. At first the Watcher could not define it. Then it came to him. Their clothes. Their clothing seemed unusual. The male was not wearing a uniform belonging to either side of the War Between the States, and neither was he wearing anything resembling what the Watcher had observed being worn by other non-military males. The female was wearing clothing that would almost be considered scandalous. The Watcher impassionately noted that the female was showing decidedly more leg-skin than was customarily allowed in public. The Watcher noted that he could almost see the female's knees, but not quite.
The Watcher kept his eyepiece trained on the pair as he reached for his belt, and brought up his auralgun. He pointed the pistol-like device at the two figures, pulled the trigger, and the barrel of the auralgun extended outwards a few inches. The Watcher's earpiece crackled to life as the auralgun began picking up the conversation occurring between the male and the female.
Male: "I'm sorry, Betty. That ruse usually works like a charm."
Female: "It seems you're a bit out of your league here, Scott."
Male: "Well, time travel tends to do that to a person, I'd say."
The Watcher nearly fell out of his tree. He put out a hand to stop himself from actually slipping. Intrigued, he turned up the volume on his earpiece.
Female: "We must have travelled, what, about 80 years into the past?"
Male: "That'd be my guess. What the heck was that thing? I thought it was just an airship. Guess it was something a bit more special than that."
The Watcher felt he had heard enough to report in. He breathed in deep, and projected his mind in the direction of his all-powerful leader, Count Gregory. My Lord, he thought.
Report, he heard Count Gregory reply deep in his mind.
There are two unknown humans here. They appear to have come from the future.
There was a slight pause before Count Gregory replied. Explain.
The Watcher continued. I have heard them talk of travelling back in time from a point approximately 80 years from the present. Also, I have noted that their manner of clothing does not conform with modern styles. My conclusion is they are speaking truthfully, My Lord.
Very well, Count Gregory acknowledged. Follow them and observe them, but at this point do not intervene or confront them. Perhaps they will lead you to the means of their time travel. You will prevent them from using their time travel device if they attempt to use it. Their device must be used for the good of the League of Darkness. Do I make myself understood?
Yes, My Lord, the Watcher replied humbly. He felt Count Gregory disengage from his mind, and his thoughts were alone once more.
The Watcher blinked, and noted that his quarry had begun walking off, away from the Jefferson Memorial. The Watcher stealthily slithered down the trunk of the tree, dashed to a nearby bush, and crept along, keeping the male and female within sight at all times...
*****
"We might as well do a little sight-seeing before we head back to the ship, don't you think, Betty?" Scott said, with an obvious bit of hope in his voice.
Betty sighed and nodded. "I almost wish we didn't have to go back. This is so amazing, Scott. To be back in the middle of history!"
Scott casually put an arm around Betty as they strolled along. "I know, it's wonderful," he said with an air of relaxed contentment.
They continued down a tree-lined avenue. They turned a corner, and the sight that assaulted their eyes brought them both up short. They looked at each other in disbelief, before quickly looking back at the object that caused their surprise.
"It's the Aurora!" cried Betty.
Parked in a clearing in front of them, they saw the airship Aurora. It rested comfortably on the ground, its balloon still inflated and floating gently in the breeze.
"It is, but it's not quite the same one that we used," Scott replied, equally awestruck. "This one's still got the balloon!" He started to rush off towards it, only to be held back by Betty.
"Wait, Scott..." Betty said quietly.
"What is it, Betty?" Scott said, concerned.
Betty pursed her lips before continuing. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if I'm guessing right, we might be about to meet...Jules Verne! And...I know this sounds ridiculous as I'm saying it, but we might even meet Phileas Fogg!"
Scott grinned. "See? I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking. He is real. Admit it, you think he exists, too."
Betty nodded, a tiny smile forming on her lips. "Oh, all right, Scott, I admit it. I'm hoping he exists, too. But, still...I'm just a bit shy of meeting the great Jules Verne. Think of it, Scott. The man who invented science fiction! It's fantastic!"
Scott laughed. "Let's go see just how fantastic he was, Betty!" He headed off in the direction of the parked Aurora.
Betty hurried to catch up with Scott. She met up with him just as he reached the door of the Aurora.
Scott turned to Betty. "I think I'll knock this time. Unless you'd care to do the honors, Betty?"
Betty, still a bit in awe of meeting one of her favorite writers, hesitated for a brief instant. Then, steeling herself, she reached out a hand, and firmly rapped at the door.
There was a pause, and they heard a noise of some sort from inside the craft. The door swung open gently, revealing a dark-haired, goateed man clothed in the style of a gentleman's valet. "Yes? How am I to be helping you?" the man asked cheerfully.
A voice called out from the interior of the airship. "Who is it, Passepartout?"
Betty glanced at Scott, and mouthed "Passepartout!" to him. Scott just grinned back.
"Who are you?" Passepartout asked graciously.
Scott held out his hand. "I'm Scott Sherwood, and this is Miss Betty Roberts. We're here to see the owner of this airship."
Passepartout shook Scott's hand, and answered "Ah! Is Mister Fogg to be expecting you?"
"Told you so," Scott whispered to Betty, before continuing with, "I don't think so. You see, we're from the future!"
Passepartout released Scott's hand suddenly. He paused, looked back inside the airship, and then back at Scott and Betty. "I am thinking you had better come inside, sir, ma'am." He stood aside to let them through the door.
Inside the airship, Scott and Betty looked around themselves, once more in awe. This was indeed the Aurora. The interior looked almost exactly as the one they had apparently time-travelled in. The key difference seemed to be that there were other people in it. Two other people besides Passepartout, to be exact.
One of the occupants was a tall, finely dressed gentleman. He had short, slightly greying hair, with precisely shaved, pointed sideburns. Even the way he stood marked him out as one who thought of himself as a member of the elite. Proud, dignified, elegant, he looked at Scott and Betty with an arched eyebrow.
Proud, dignified, and elegant could also be used to describe the other occupant of the main cabin of the airship. Standing next to the gentleman was a very beautiful woman. Her red hair curled down to her shoulders, and rich purple dress was breathtaking. She held herself perhaps a bit more strongly than many of the more demure ladies of the period might have. She had a slight smile etched on her face.
Passepartout closed the door, and began the introductions. "Master, may I present to you Mister Scott Sherwood and Miss Betty Roberts. Mister Sherwood, Miss Roberts, may I present to you Mister Phileas Fogg, and Miss Rebecca Fogg."
Hands were shaken, and curtsies were exchanged. Passepartout continued. "Mister Sherwood has been saying that they are coming from the future, Master."
Phileas Fogg's eyebrow arched even further. "Ah! Has he been saying that, indeed? Well, Mister Sherwood, your taste in clothing seems to be a bit unusual, to say the least. Have you any proof of your statement, other than your word?"
Scott tore his eyes away from Rebecca Fogg. "Uh, oh yeah. We've got a key to your airship, and something else. Show him, Betty."
As Betty dug in her purse for the key and the crystal sphere, another voice echoed into the cabin from along the nearby corridor. "I heard some voices, Phileas. What's going on?" A young man emerged from the hallway, and stood next to Passepartout. He was full of youthful energy, and his clothing suggested a rather poorer background than that of either of the Foggs.
Passepartout said, "I will introduce again. Master Jules, may I present to you Mister Scott Sherwood and Miss Betty Roberts from the future. Mister Sherwood, Miss Roberts, may I present to you Monsieur Jules Verne from Paris."
Betty's eyes widened as she looked at the young man.
Meanwhile, as he was being introduced to Miss Betty Roberts, Jules Verne fell in love...
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