It had been nearly three weeks since Phileas and Jules had come to this future time. They had settled in as long-term houseguests with only minor difficulties. The nineteenth century men had by now become accustomed to the changes in technology enough not to stare when some new marvel was introduced to them. There had been many just within the house. Besides motorcars, electric lighting and indoor plumbed bath facilities, there had been vacuum cleaners, telephones, and radios. In the kitchen, Jules had found a host of electrically powered things from an icebox that didn't require ice to ovens that didn't require wood.
Jules told Phileas about his discoveries, but Fogg wouldn't enter the kitchen to see any of it. Jules understood. Rebecca had told him about the old cook in charge when they were small. Because she forbid children in her territory, even adventurous Rebecca had not set foot in the kitchen until grown. Verne knew he couldn't, but he itched to take some of those marvels apart to see how they worked. And every time he considered it, he thought Passepartout should be right with him. He would be in heaven here.
The weather turned bitterly cold. Snow hit the countryside for days at a time in late November. It made going out difficult, but Jules did his best to scout the countryside for strangers. Phileas, on the other hand, stayed home, keeping out of sight, and keeping company with his descendants.
Roberta's doctor allowed her to come home on Loren's promise she would stay abed for another week. And remain in bed she did, with her cousin keeping her close company every day.
Phileas had stepped in for a quick visit on her second day at home. The lady had been sitting up with a cheery green and rose paisley bed jacket over her gown. Her hair had been freshly brushed, lying loose over the stack of pillows. It had been an eye-opening visit for Phileas, showing him the two cousins' relationship.
Loren was with Roberta, having just brought up a tray. Roberta nodded a welcome to Phileas as she watched her cousin circle her bed.
"Just what the doctor ordered, cousin." Loren set the covered tray on her lap table with flourish.
Roberta groaned. "Please no. You know I hate oatmeal and that was all the nurses at the infirmary brought me."
"This is by order of Dr. Fogg." Loren grinned and popped the cover off her plate to expose omelets, diced fruit and toast with strawberry preserves. To drink she had a small pot of hot tea and a glass of precious orange juice.
"Oh, Dr. Fogg, I love you!" She cried out.
Loren gave her a cock-eyed grin. "Yes, but will you say that again before witnesses?"
"Absolutely not," his patient said. "If I did, I'd have to be nice to you. And we both know how you would take full advantage of that. No, publicly you are still my brat baby cousin, and I will continue to treat you as such."
"Ah, well, then you won't be getting your after-breakfast present, will you?" Dr. Fogg said.
"Present?" The patient looked up, warily. "The last present you gave me when it wasn't my birthday or Christmas was that beaded evening bag with all the mice packed into it."
"I was thirteen when I did that," Loren defended. "Besides, the look on your face when you pulled the drawstrings was priceless." Loren told Phileas the story behind the beaded bag of mice while Roberta ate.
Now that she was no longer suffering from pain and shock, Roberta wondered at her willingness to trust this stranger on nothing but a strong family resemblance. Father would have skinned me alive for being so trusting. She had already questioned Loren about him. He verified that Phileas was family and that he knew of him.
"Then why have I never heard of him?" Roberta had said. I'm the one who has been traveling all over Europe. If he really is family, why haven't I seen him?
Loren had dismissed her question, turning it back on her. "Why would you expect to know every distant relative we have? Really Roberta, the family isn't small. We have cousins spread out over four countries, by my count. And saying that; I don't know all of them. I know of Phileas because grandmother knew him and commented on our likeness. I met him briefly with Lacy about three years ago in London. That's all."
Roberta dropped the subject. If Loren were willing to vouch for him, she would have to accept. Not that her suspicions weren't satisfied. Not considering the Airbase commander had told her Mr. Verne had a photograph of her father in his pocket. Why had he been carrying such a picture and where had he gotten it?
"So, you see, Phileas, the payback was completely justified." Loren said in summation. "I can't have relatives forcing wallflowers on me. If it weren't for returning to Eton, the girl would still be after me."
Roberta frowned at Loren after a sip of tea. "Oh, Beatrice wasn't that bad. Did you know she married last spring? You'll call her Lady Beatrice when you see her again. She married Robert Howard."
"Yes, and I sent Robert my sympathies." Loren took away her bed table. "Now, are you ready for your present?" Without waiting for an answer, he went out to the hall and brought in a woven basket Phileas had noticed as he came in. It had a large red bow on the lid. Roberta just looked at it when he sat it in her lap, not quite willing to touch it.
"Oh, come on, open it." Lorne coaxed. "I promise it won't bite."
As Roberta removed the bow, Phileas heard Loren say under his breath, "Not hard enough to hurt, anyway."
Roberta heard that, too, and snatched her hand away from the lid. She then swallowed, gained courage, lifted the lid just an inch or two to peek inside. That opening was just what the contents of the basket had been waiting for. She squealed in fright and then delight as four kittens popped out of the basket into her lap. All were snow white with red bows around their necks.
"Oh Loren… You Brat! They are wonderful!"
"You're welcome." Loren said smugly. "They are fully weaned and ready for spoiling. I thought they could keep you company today. I am taking one of our houseguests to the train station. Mr. Verne is going with Anderson to Sheffield to pick up the clothes we ordered. Rutherford moved his London shop there after the bombings started."
"And did the move survive the bombings there last month?" She asked.
"To our good fortune, yes," Loren said. "It's bad enough we have to make do so much without having to forgo good tailoring as well."
Roberta silently laughed at her cousin's dandy-speak. Loren had been a cocky little arrogant coming out of Eton. But she had not heard him voice such urbane silliness in years. The times weren't right for it. There was too much seriousness in the air for frivolous talk. She turned her attention to her lap full of furry mischief, giving him a warm smile and another thank you before the men got on with their day.
Phileas thought back on that morning. He couldn't help but be happy that these cousins had as warm a friendship as he had with Rebecca. Well, different, but still. Lord, I miss her.