Early the next morning, Rip heard a bell tinkling near the front door. He approached, but saw no one the stoop. The bell, he realized was above the speaking tube to one side of the door.

He lifted up the lid covering the tube and said, “Hello?”

Nancy’s voice came back, slightly tinny.

“Good morning, Mr. Coulter. Lady Brooke wanted to know if you would like to dine with her in the main house? Then we shall have you ready to meet the tailor when he arrives later this morning.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be right over.”

He gathered up the plates and silverware from last night and took the tray with him.

When he walked into the kitchen, Nancy’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh, dear! You didn’t have to do that, Mr. Coulter! I will fetch the dirty dishes, I just haven’t got over to your cottage yet.”

“No problem,” he said, setting it down near a large farmhouse sink taking up a portion of the kitchen wall.

Nancy looked distraught at his actions.

“Lady Brooke is in the smaller dining room. It’s down the hall to your left, you’ll find her there. And I promise I will clean your cottage just as soon as I can.”

“Okay, thanks. But, no worries.”

There must be a clear delineation between what’s acceptable for guests to do for themselves, he thought.

He walked down the hall and found Blair. She smiled at him from the table.

“I heard her protesting in there. You don’t do work in aristocratic houses. Only the servants are allowed to perform domestic labor. Did you not read the books I gave you?”

“I don’t recall a chapter on that in ‘Decorum for the Genteel Classes.’ Mostly all I remember were discussions on seating arrangements at dinner parties, and understanding the difference between a count and a viscount and so forth. And the fact that Umbria doesn’t have counts, only barons, earls and dukes.”

Blair raised an eyebrow.

“So you did read them.”

“Of course. I’m one who likes to read the user manual, even for a game.”

“And there he goes babbling nonsense again,” Blair said as Nancy walked in carrying a tray laden with food.

Nancy danced around the table setting things up, and quickly exited.

Blair nodded toward the door when she left, and Rip understood that their conversation would not be private.

She kept the conversation light and prepared him for the day ahead.

“You will be considered a colonial, at least. That’s good because if you make a faux pas, no one will hold it against you.”

“Right. I’m just a bumbling country bumpkin.”

“Something like that. But if you maintain your composure and remain polite at all times, you’ll come out of it just fine. Bixby will try and shield you from the worst of it, fielding any questions you are not directly asked, for instance.”

“Sounds good. I’m not worried.”

“Good, because many people are extremely nervous with public events like this.”

Rip shrugged.

“I admit I don’t care to be the center of attention. But I suppose this is part of the game we’re playing.”

She frowned and said, “I hope you’re taking this seriously.”

“Oh, I am. That was just a figure of speech.”

They continued their discussion until Nancy came to take away the dishes. She smiled happily, piling everything up on a tray and refilling their teacups.

“Does this world have coffee?” Rip said, draining his cup.

Nancy’s eyes grew big but she quickly poured him another.

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid it’s not very popular here, but we do have it. The Turkish coffee houses in the . . . less proper parts of the city, are frequented by those looking to imbibe.”

“Hm. I’ll have to check them out. No offense to tea, but I’m more of a coffee drinker in the mornings.”

A chime went off in the front of the house and Nancy set the tray down.

“That’ll likely be Mr. Stoffman!”

After she ran out, Blair said, “Yes. Let’s go out and meet him.”

Nancy opened the front door to allow Stoffman in. Two assistants carrying travel trunks came in with him.

Stoffman said, “Right, here we are. Set them down there, lads. Ah, Mr. Coulter, so glad to see you this morning. I have everything requested for you. Let’s start out with the suit for your visit this morning, shall we?”

An hour later, Rip found himself the owner of ten new outfits, and as many pairs of shoes, along with coats, overcoats, hats and other accouterments.

In light of the fact Blair was a member in good standing of the Venture Society, Stoffman also supplied Rip with attire suitable for exploring steam vaults and other “uncivilized” areas. They reminded Rip of the clothes Chance and the colonel wore.

He also had a variety of shoes in Rip’s size, all of which fit surprisingly well.

“Oh my!” Nancy said, when he came out of a side room wearing the suit Stoffman said was best suited for court. “He does look most handsome, doesn’t he, dear?”

Blair smiled and nodded.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Stoffman. My thanks to you and your staff for pulling this off on such short notice.”

The enhanced tailor beamed at her praise. So did his assistants.

Before leaving, Stoffman discreetly passed a slip of paper outlining the charges for his services to Nancy, then bid everyone farewell. His helpers followed him out, leaving the travel trunks behind as they left through the front door.

Nancy glanced down at the trunks full of clothes.

“Well! I shall endeavor to move these into the guest cottage as soon as I am able.”

Rip said, “Oh, that’s alright. I’ll get them over there.”

“You most certainly will not! I’ll have the gardener give me a hand if they prove too heavy. Now, you and Lady Brooke need to hightail it out of here if you are to make it to the Doctors’ Commons on time. Begone, both of you.”

A few minutes later Blair and Rip entered another hansom cab

“It’s not very far from here, actually.”

“So, you think the king will attend the public hearing?”

Rip noticed the neighborhood the carriage rolled through seemed exceptionally upscale.

No sign of horse manure anywhere, either. That’s got to take some work.

“When the colonel turned in his initial report to the society last night and presented Dr. Oggolopoli to them, he would have mentioned finding you as well. Due to the extraordinary circumstances of your arrival into our world, and Dr. Oggolopoli’s insistence that he brought you here from another realm, this will trigger an automatic review by the court. If it’s interesting enough, and I suspect it is, the king himself will want to sit in and listen to the details.”

“Ah. So you’re saying there’s a chance I won’t have to see him.”

The corners of her lips quirked up.

“Trust me. Steam vaults? An expedition turning up a visitor from another world? You don’t know our king, but I can assure you he will be present at the hearing this morning. I fully expect a private meeting with him sometime today.”

“You make it sound like a court date.”

“It is a court date. We’re going to court.”

“No, I mean . . . never mind.”

“Not only that, but if I know King Allo’s court, you’re all the talk right now. We should have a very full gallery of spectators at the public hearing.”

“Great.”

That part actually bothered Rip more than meeting the king. He did not particularly care for public attention.

Before long they pulled up before a much larger wall than Blair’s, with wider wrought iron gates and men dressed in red uniforms with furry black hats on either side.

“Hey! Those guys look just like the ones on my world!”

After querying the driver, opening the door and speaking with Blair and Rip directly, the guards allowed the cab to proceed through the gates.

Their horse clip-clopped to a large bend in the road ending before a complex of buildings facing one another in a large square garden.

From here, Rip could see they would need to proceed on foot. Paths wandered by fountains and statues, connecting to various entrances among the buildings.

Several men stood out front, including some policemen in the road guiding traffic. The cabbie was told where to park, and he tripped the switch for the door.

Blair handed Rip a few coins and said, “Pay the man, please.”

Rip agreed, having read in her book on etiquette that it was proper for the man to always pay. He thought it somewhat hypocritical that she gave him her own money to hand over, but he did not make the rules.

Stepping out, Rip reached up to the cabbie’s outstretched hand. The man tipped his hat in return and clicked for his horse to head back toward the street.

Rip and Blair walked up some very wide stone steps to a landing, where several marble columns marked the entrance to the garden.

Here, a smartly dressed man wearing a long red cloak asked them to state their names and their business, checking them on a list. Then he informed them where to go for their hearing.

Blair thanked him and led Rip through the columns and into the garden taking the largest of its many paths between the buildings.

“Welcome to the Doctors’ Commons. Is this similar to your world’s?”

“I don’t think so. Although, to be honest, I’ve never been to London on my world. What goes on here?”

“Well, we have the Lyceum in the buildings to our right. This is their primary campus for Greater Umbria. The Royal Venture Society is in the cluster of buildings at the far end. And to our left are offices for the monarchy.”

“So, no palace?”

“The king does not live here, no. But like I said, he will most likely be present in our hearing. Come along, we will meet the Colonel and Mr. Chance at the Venture Society.”

He walked beside her, noticing that in public she did not put her arm around his. She did not touch him at all. Public displays of affection were frowned upon, he knew, especially in formal settings.

They walked quietly on the wide path leading straight to the large building ahead. It had the look of classic gothic architecture, with spires and turrets and dark gray stonework.

“So, lots of people will be there, huh?”

“Oh, yes. Like I say, you are no doubt the talk of—”

Two men stepped out from behind a large statue to their right, holding guns.

“You know the drill,” the taller of the two said. “Hands up and come with us.”