Even after Melbourne resigned permanently in August 1841, Victoria continued to write to him, but eventually the correspondence ceased as it was seen as inappropriate. It has been observed that Melbourne's role faded as Victoria came to rely on her new husband, Prince Albert. Melbourne survived, though weakened, after suffering a stroke fourteen months after his departure from politics. In retirement, he lived at Melbourne Hall, Derbyshire. Melbourne died on 24 November 1848 and was buried at St Etheldreda's Church, Hatfield, Hertfordshire.

Victoria stared at the iPhone in her hand and felt herself begin to tremble perilously. She nearly dropped the device, but managed to set it slowly down. She'd made an awful mistake, she thought, in opening up the biography of herself and touching Melbourne's name.

1848. He would fade from her life and then die in 1848. If they went to Hatfield now, she wondered, would she see his grave there? Would his bones be beneath the earth there?

"Your Majesty?"

She turned her head, knowing that tears were streaming down her cheeks. He was already dressed; they were meant to go on a tourist's excursion to Windsor Castle today. The last three days had passed with them scouring the city for clues - anything that might lead them to find their way home. But Victoria did not want to go home, now less than ever. She pushed the iPhone away across the bathroom counter and swiped at her eyes.

"I am missing my little Dash," she lied. "That's all."

Melbourne gave her a very knowing look and tipped his head. "You know, it might be very strange to see Windsor swarming with visitors. The places we know so well, the gardens where we rode out together... I am not sure, Ma'am, if I want to see these people crawling all over them. We needn't go on the tour unless you truly want to."

"I want to," she whispered. She scoffed then and reminded him, "I've never liked Windsor; how much worse could they make it?"

Melbourne could obviously tell that something was still amok, so he smoothly reached for the iPhone and picked it up. Victoria wanted to stop him, but his eyes scanned over the same backlit words she'd just read herself. Half his mouth turned up, and he said gently,

"A stroke fourteen months after leaving politics. And here I've spent these last years thinking that retirement would mean an easy, comfortable life."

"We can never go back, Lord M," Victoria whispered. "I like it here."

"Do you, Ma'am?" Melbourne tucked the iPhone into his back pocket and took her face gently in his hands. He bent and touched his lips to hers, and he whispered, "I like you here. You are so much less restricted. Fewer rules binding you in."

"Fewer corsets binding me in, too," Victoria joked half-heartedly. Melbourne's hands slid down over her chest and stomach and traced over her torso, as if making her point about corsets. He touched her carefully through her thin black top, and Victoria tipped her head back a little.

"We shall be late for the train, Ma'am," Melbourne said, but just the same he leaned down and pushed his mouth against her neck. Victoria gasped and put her hands straight to the waistband of his jeans. They'd scarcely put a hand on one another these last few days, and the instance of him claiming her seemed like a faraway dream, almost as far away as home. Somehow, Victoria managed to push gently on Melbourne's chest, and she smiled weakly,

"I want to see the train."

He nodded, dragging his thumb over his bottom lip, and he murmured, "Later, perhaps."

Victoria grinned. "Most definitively, Lord M. Later."


The train was fascinating. It moved so smoothly, so swiftly, that Melbourne found himself entirely entranced by it. He stared out the window with Victoria's hands in his, and he watched cityscape and then countryside whizz by them. They passed what seemed to be neighborhoods, though they only scarcely resembled the crowded poor areas of London he'd know. Soon enough they were passing what someone else called Heathrow Airport. Melbourne watched as great metal beasts soared up into the sky. He'd seen them overhead and had been frightened of them at first, but now they were mesmerising.

"Where you do suppose they go?" Victoria asked from beside him, and Melbourne said,

"I saw an advertisement for flights to Jamaica. Flights to China. You can get anywhere in less than a day. Anywhere in the entire world, it seems."

"I want to fly on one," Victoria said firmly. "Someday, Lord M, we shall fly on one of those. We will go to Jamaica."

Melbourne squeezed her hand a little and tried not to tell her that she was making plans for a world where they could not stay. She was plotting a future they could never have. He just stroked at her fingers with his and watched the airport's activities until they'd passed that, too.

Soon enough, they were changing trains and zooming even more quickly to a station that was allegedly a ten minute walk from Windsor Castle. Everything had built up around here, and it only vaguely resembled the pastoral world Melbourne had known. As they walked up to the castle, he noted the signs for tourists, the way everything seemed commercialised and bottled and packaged.

"The new queen still lives here?" Victoria shook her head. "I can not imagine letting so many visitors barge into my home."

"It seems to me as though they now view anything that is property of the Crown to first and foremost be property of the people," Melbourne said. "The queen now is a figurehead, a symbol, but the physical trappings of the monarchy are a thoroughly public affair."

Victoria said nothing to that, throwing one of her twin long braids over her shoulder as they walked the long gravel path up to the castle. She paused for a moment and looked around, and she told him,

"We were here a month ago. A month and a hundred and seventy years, but... you were in your Windsor Uniform, and we were having dinner with Mama, and..."

Her eyes welled a little then, and she blinked quickly as she looked him up and down. She tried to smile, and she said,

"I quite like you in your Windsor Uniform, Lord M, but I also quite like you in jeans."

He glanced down at himself. "So I am not spitting on protocol by entering this castle so shoddily dressed, Ma'am? Can you imagine, if you'd seen me come sauntering into Windsor Castle in these clothes last month?"

She took a very deep breath and whispered, "Quite a lot has changed."

"So it has," Melbourne nodded. He reached carefully for her hand and brought it to his lips, and he kept his head bowed as he said very seriously, "Your Majesty."

He was reminding them both of what this place was, of who they were, and Victoria seemed a little breathless. She did not release his hand, instead walking solemnly with him up to the building. They'd decided to take a small group tour, which meant they got to budge the enormous queue to enter. Melbourne listened carefully as the tour guide explained how old the castle was, how long it had been continuously inhabited, and that the current queen frequently came on weekends. They walked into the main entrance of the castle, and immediately were greeted by a portrait of a courtier in the full Windsor uniform. Melbourne nudged his queen and smirked up at the portrait, and the tour guide said cheerfully,

"Has anyone got any idea what the man in that painting is wearing?"

Melbourne waited, but nobody said anything, so he answered in a cheeky voice,

"It's extraordinarily hot, and very heavy, and worn by unfortunate men at the beck and call of their monarch here at Windsor. It's the Uniform."

"You sound as though you have some experience with it," the tour guide smiled. Melbourne thought fast and shrugged,

"Wore one on stage once."

"Ah. Well, you're certainly right. All that gold braiding was immensely heavy, so the modern day Windsor Uniform is much lighter, red-facing jacket that used to be called the Undress. The heavy braided jackets have not been worn here at Windsor in decades."

"What an abominable shame," Victoria said bitingly, and a few of the other tour guests turned to stare at her curiously. The guide seemed a little confused but carried on, taking them through roped-off spaces and narrow corridors that looked mostly familiar with a few changes. They came to the Grand Staircase, and then the tour guide began pointing out its features. Finally she said,

"Over here is a statue of Queen Victoria with her collie, Sharp. Of course, a far more prominent statue of Victoria can be found at the foot of the castle hill outside. Be sure to take a peek if you didn't get a glimpse on your way in; it truly is a magnificent statue."

The group started to move on, but Victoria called,

"Did they like her? The people? Did they... were they fond of her?"

"Of Queen Victoria?" The tour guide seemed perplexed, but she answered, "She is one of the most significant monarchs in British history. I think people do look fondly upon her, although, of course, because the Empire spread so vastly under her rule, many around the world do not think kindly of her reign. Still, how often do we say the word 'Victorian' about clothing or style or architecture or literature? What is undeniable is her influence. Now, let us continue into the State Apartments. Right this way, everyone."

Victoria stayed where she was, and Melbourne could hardly blame her. They let the group move on, and then they wandered silently through the parts of the castle where visitors were allowed. Victoria's eyes were blank and distant as she stepped into St George's Hall, where the two of them had attended many a formal dinner. The visitors all gasped and ogled, taking photos whilst grinning and holding up two fingers in a V shape. The pageantry was all lost. The magic of this place, no matter what Victoria had ever thought of it, was lost, and she whispered as she stood in the centre of the enormous space,

"I think we ought to walk back to the train, Lord M."

"Yes, Ma'am." He released her hand and waited for her to leave, following her obediently as he desperately tried to stay present. He pushed past the crowds in the corridors that he had always thought of as lonely. He watched Victoria walk in her own knee-length grey skirt and black top, and then he could see her - braids down around her ears, diamond crown around her head, swishing silk gown. No matter what games of make believe they played, that was who she was.

She was the queen, and they needed to go home.


Victoria stood in the little shop in the hotel lobby and placed three 32-packs of lubricated condoms on the counter before her. The shop girl smirked to herself but said nothing, and Victoria refused to be embarrassed. If they found their way home, she wanted to be prepared. She would have bought more, but that was all the shop had. She'd buy more somewhere else, she decided.

"You know, I've got the arm implant," the girl scanning the condoms said. "You have to use backup for a little while, but it lasts for years and I've got no periods on it."

Victoria looked frantically around the store. "Arm implant. You mean... to prevent conception?"

"Yeah." The girl grinned, putting the condoms into two bags, apparently for discretion, and she gestured out the window. "The community contraception clinic down the street, they'll put it in, no questions asked."

"Does it hurt?" Victoria asked. "Can you see it?"

The girl peeled up her sleeve and shrugged. "I've had no problems, like I said. Goes on the inside of the arm. It's a lot easier than condoms, so long as you're not afraid of any STIs, you know?"

"STIs," Victoria repeated helplessly. The girl narrowed her eyes and whispered,

"Catholic school?"

"I had... an unconventional education," Victoria said carefully, and the girl nodded knowingly.

"Homeschool. Gotcha. Right, well... just my advice. I've had a good experience. The clinic's just down the road."

"Thank you." Victoria passed over her cash and nodded frantically. "Thank you."

Melbourne was out in the lobby waiting, and she walked by him so quickly that he looked baffled. As she rushed out the front doors of the Corinthia, he called,

"What's the matter, Ma'am?"

"I am getting an arm implant," Victoria said over her shoulder, and Melbourne scowled as he demanded,

"Pardon me, Ma'am, but... you're doing what?"

He didn't seem to understand until they were in the waiting room of the community contraception clinic. Victoria had already urinated into a cup and had blood drawn out of her arm with a needle so that the medical staff could run some sort of testing, and poor Melbourne looked as though he wanted to be absolutely anywhere other than where he was. He stared down at the bags of condoms Victoria had bought, and he most certainly understood why she was doing what she was, but he still seemed so uncomfortable that she thought he might burst.

"Lamb? Victoria Lamb?" A friendly-looking nurse called from the doorway, and Victoria rushed up, leaving Melbourne behind with the bags of condoms. She followed the nurse into an exam room, where she was asked all manner of questions about her so-called 'sexual history.'

"And how many partners have you had in your lifetime?"

"Partners. You mean... with how many men have I...?" Victoria went red-faced, and the nurse shrugged.

"Or women, or anyone in between. Any sexual partners at all."

"One," Victoria said firmly. The nurse gave a little smile down to her chart, and she said confidently,

"You're negative for pregnancy, and your STI panel was clear. We don't have an NHS card on file for you, but our computers are flaky today. We'll be in contact if there's a registration problem. We can go ahead and place the implant today. You may have a little irregularity with periods for a few months, and then you may lose them entirely."

"That sounds very convenient," Victoria mused, and the nurse smiled. She pulled out a device and carefully peeled back Victoria's sleeve. She used a little cloth that smelled strongly of alcohol to rub and scrub at the skin on the inside of her arm, and then she held the device up and waited until it beeped a few times. Then she pressed a button, and there was a sharp pinching sensation. The nurse studied the site and nodded.

"Good. That went in nicely. Use backup for a few weeks."

"Backup. You mean condoms," Victoria said, and the nurse winked.

"You already knew that bit; saw your shopping out in the waiting room. Smart girl. You'll be just fine. No babies for you for a few years at minimum. Have a good day, love."


"Does it hurt?" Melbourne asked carefully, the same way Victoria had done to the girl in the convenience shop. She shook her head and then finally admitted,

"It's a little achy. I suspect that will pass."

"We still don't have a way home," he reminded her. He stopped in front of the hotel and shook his head. "Even if we did, you'll have to... you saw the biographies, Ma'am. I die, and you go on magnificently."

"No. I will not accept those biographies." Victoria stormed into the hotel, pushing the door open roughly and bustling past the poor doorman. She jammed on the button to call the lift, and Melbourne realised she'd become entirely too comfortable here.

"You are losing yourself, Ma'am," he said softly, and Victoria scowled over her shoulder and she stomped into the lift.

"Me? I am losing myself? No, Lord M. I have finally found myself." She pushed the number five on the panel of the lift, and they began to rise in silence. He could see her reflection from three sides in the mirrored lift - the way her two long braids looked so different from the hair she'd always worn, the way her skirt and top left so little to the imagination. She was comfortable here. She liked it here. So did he, if he was honest with himself. But if he was honest, he knew they could not stay.

"Who is Sharp, Ma'am?" He asked softly, and Victoria frowned at the lift buttons. She said nothing, so Melbourne folded his hands before him and murmured, "Dash won't live forever. Dogs never do. You'll have a collie named Sharp, and they'll make a marble statue of you with him and put it in Windsor Castle. But you don't even know that dog yet, Ma'am, because you haven't lived your life. And you must live your life."

"I will not marry Albert and have nine children and lose you in less than a decade's time." Victoria walked quickly out of the lift, waiting impatiently at the door of their room for Melbourne to come and slide the key inside. He felt something snap within him, as if he needed to slap some sense into the both of them. He pushed the door open and took a shaking sigh, deciding that he wanted her and feeling entirely unable to fight the sensation off. As soon as he shut the door, he had whirled her around and pushed her against it, and Victoria gasped at the way his hands roughly went up her skirt and yanked down on her knickers.

"Is this what you want, Ma'am?" His voice was cracking, he knew, but Victoria nodded frantically and whispered,

"Yes."

"Fine." Melbourne kissed roughly at her neck, yanked up her top and pawed so fiercely at her breasts that she whimpered. He couldn't stop; he needed her. He needed her right now. He bent down just long enough to reach into the shopping bags from the convenience store, and he worked quickly to pull a wrapped condom out of one of the boxes. Victoria's fingers worked at the placket of his jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling down the closure that was apparently called a zip. She pulled him out and started to fondle him, staring into his eyes with her lips alluringly parted.

"Please, Lord M," she murmured, and his own fingers shook like mad as he carefully tore at the condom wrapper. He managed to slide it onto his hardened cock and roll it down, shoving his jeans down a bit and wrenching Victoria's skirt up.

"Wrap your legs round me." He grunted as he hoisted her by her waist, and she snared her legs around him as her arms snaked around his shoulders. He started to thrust at once, ignoring the way her body thudded against the door with every push. Victoria tipped her head against the doorway and moaned, and Melbourne leaned forward to latch straight onto her neck.

Suddenly all there was was this. The marble statue of the long-dead queen in Windsor was gone. All there was was the young woman against the door with her arms around him, whispering that she loved him, kissing him back when he put his mouth to hers. Suddenly the biographies from the iPhones had faded into obvlivion, replaced by the way she felt around his manhood, the way she smelled, the way she tasted. Melbourne had been in love before, but never quite like this. He'd been physical with women before, but never anything approaching this. He kissed her harder that ever, so hard that she squealed for mercy, and when he pulled back, he was overcome by the sensation of his climax washing over him like a wave.

He held her there, pinned to the door, for a short moment, knowing he had to get the condom off so that he wouldn't leak inside of her. He kept his eyes locked onto hers and cupped her jaw as he lowered her, and as he stepped back, he said in a voice full of wonder,

"Victoria."

He'd never called her that, not to her face, not in any context like this, and her eyes rimmed red at once. She just nodded, and he walked silently into the bathroom. He shut the door most of the way and pulled off the condom, tying it up and tossing it into the rubbish bin in a wad of paper. He used a washcloth to wash himself off, and then he heard Victoria's voice say from outside the bathroom door,

"Lord M? I think you need to come see this... now."

He hurried to tuck himself away and do up the zip and button, and as he walked out into the hotel room, his eyes locked onto the bed. Victoria was staring at it as if a dead body were lying there, but it was so much worse than that.

It was a little red copy of The Perils of Modernity.

Author's Note: *Gasp!* So they appear to have their way home. Do they want it? Will they use it? If they go home, will they ever come back to modern times? Will history get rewritten? So many questions. Sorry for the cliffhanger, folks. I promise to update again as soon as humanly possible. I have a *very* bad case of bacterial pneumonia that went misdiagnosed, so at present I'm trying to stay out of the hospital. Luckily, that means I'm consigned to bed, so I may be able to write another chapter later if I feel up to it. I appreciate your patience, readership, and feedback. :)