THE JEWELS OF CHOICE – a Free Short Story

Morgana Neville and Julian Cavendish sat on a favorite bench near the old rock bridge crossing the River Teign. It was their favorite spot to meet and talk. They’d returned from the Season in London recently to their country homes in Devon, both grand, sprawling rock edifices with turrets and towers we would view as castles, set amid lavish grounds and properties extending for miles on either side.  The Ton lived well in Victorian England.

Morgana arranged her skirts so she could sit more comfortably on the bench. “Well, I guess we are officially engaged,” she said to Julian.

“How could you doubt it?” He laughed, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles comfortably. “After all, it was announced at the Rutherford’s ball, at Almack’s, and of course you can’t forget the Engagement Party at Devonshire House which was a crush. I am the heir to the Duke after all.”

“Well, I just feel like our future was decided for us with little input or discussion at all.”

Julian pushed a strand of dark hair behind his ear. “Surely you have not forgotten how long we’ve been committed Morgana. It was settled long ago at that silly birthday party when we gave each other a childish kiss and announced we were going to marry one day. The alliance was desirable to our families, and you well know a kiss in front of so many created a delicate situation. A public compromise like that meant a lady was deemed ruined unless a gentleman offered his name.”

She crossed her arms in annoyance. “We were only twelve years old, Julian. I hadn’t even started pinning up my hair, still a child and hardly a marriageable woman yet.”

Julian smiled. studying the beautiful woman before him with her brown hair pulled up neatly on her head, her long day dress in a soft creamy yellow the height of fashion and showing off her figure in a way even Julian couldn’t help noticing. “Well, we’ve savored a few more sweet and satisfying kisses since. And what choice did we have in the situation? Arranged marriages are common among the aristocracy. Worse choices might have been pushed on us.”

“Perhaps, but it just seems unfair somehow,” Morgana argued.

“What seems unfair?” a familiar voice asked, from the bridge above.

The couple looked up to see old Breda there, coming across the bridge with her pony cart.  When neither of them answered, the older woman with her gypsy looks made her way down the path to them. Her husband Nate followed, after tying up the pony.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” he said pushing back an old hat on his head. “Glad I saw you on our way back from market to offer you good wishes for a good future.”

“Hmmph,” Breda added, shaking her head. “They were cursing themselves with what-ifs and a lack of gratitude. You heard them. Complaining things were arranged for them with little choice in it. I was listening.”

Morgana sighed. Breda and Nate lived on her family’s estate, and Breda had cared for her often as a child. Possessing an independent mind and nature, she often spoke her mind freely, too.

Breda shook a finger at them. “You should feel shame for not appreciating the choices fallen into your laps,” she added. “Here you are Lady Morgana Neville of this fine estate, the daughter of an earl with blessings handed to you on a silver plate, and you, Lord Julian, eldest son of a duke, who doesn’t even need to polish his own boots and lives a fine and high life above most of his fellows. How can you offer a complaint?”

Julian bristled. “No one said we weren’t grateful for what we have but it’s true we’ve had little choices in our lives.”

“Breda, you and Nate wouldn’t like it if your life was all arranged for you with little choice in it,” Morgana answered back with a toss of her head.

Nate chuckled, moving closer to Breda. “I was glad I got to choose you, old girl,” he said, punching her playfully with his elbow. “And I admit you Tofs have a lot of rigid rules to go by, many that would rankle me.” He grinned. “Maybe Julian and Morgana should go to see Rosa Varga down in the gypsy village and get themselves some choices offered.”

“You watch what you suggest to them children. That gypsy woman is borderline to a witch,” Breda said. “You two young people ignore nonsense like that and count your blessings.” She pushed at Nate. “We need to be on our way old man.”

They climbed back up the bank and soon clattered across the stone bridge with their pony cart. Morgana and Julian watched them go, and then he turned to her with a grin. “Do you want to go to see that old gypsy woman? It might be fun to see what she’d say.”

Morgana considered it. “Yes, it might be fun. I could sneak off riding and meet you at the little bridge by the village tomorrow. You know the spot.” She paused. “I’ve always heard Rosa Varga has powers that are scary. People go to her for all sorts of things, fortunes, charms, healings.”

“Are you too scared to go?” Julian challenged, reminding Morgana of their childhood days and the dares they made to each other.

“No, she’s only a Romani woman who lives with the gypsies outside town. No harm will come from visiting her.” She smiled at him. “Besides, I’m ready for an adventure after all those stuffy parties, balls, and boring teas in London, watching every word and action. Maybe she’ll even tell our future.”

“I’ll be sure to take some coins for her.” Julian stood up. “We’d better head home.”

Morgana found Julian waiting for her the next day, standing by the turn in the road under a shade tree, letting his big roan horse nibble grass at the roadside.

With a hand from him, she dismounted from her mare, and they started toward the little gypsy village, leading their mounts.

Those in the village nodded politely as they passed, seeming to know they were heading to Rosa’s colorful caravan parked in a shady spot. She sat outside at a table, dressed in typical  vibrant, eye-catching clothes, her hair tied with a bright scarf, and loopy gold earrings in her ears. Morgana had seen her in the village sometimes, always by herself, with eyes that always seemed to know and see too much.

“I saw you coming earlier,” she said, nodding to a side bench across from her table. “You’re to be married but feel you were pushed into it without choices. For some coins I can give you choices, but you will have to handle them with great care.”

Julian sent her a skeptical look. “Our lives are somewhat well settled, ma’am. I doubt you can give us many choices.”

“There are always choices.” She drew a black velvet bag from a pocket in her skirt and opened it to reveal a gold necklace with five colorful gemstones on it, hanging from the necklace like charms.

Morgana knew her eyes popped wide. “That is a valuable piece of jewelry. Where did you get it?”

“People sometimes reward me for the help I give them.” She fingered the stones. “Each of these stones represents a choice.”

Julian rolled his eyes. “I imagine you want us to buy the necklace from you and wish on it or something.”

Overlooking Julian’s sarcasm, Rosa continued. “Life is all about choices and we all have more choices than we know. With this necklace you will each have five opportunities for another life and five choices. Each gem but the ruby will give you a look at another life.  The ruby will bring you back to this life if you have not selected another along the way. That gem must be saved for last though. Remember that well.”

She paused, fingering the necklace again. “Take the gems you select, one by one, from the necklace in any order, except for the ruby … the rich aqua zircon, the deep blue sapphire, the pale watery aquamarine, or the rose-pink tourmaline. Hold the gem in your hands jointly and say these words three times: Nothing is more precious than choices. Take me to a choice.”

The gems seemed to oddly glow as Rosa talked. “You will then move into a dream and a look at another life. If you like the dream and the new life and want to stay jointly in it, you can do so. But your destinies are locked in unity at this time. If one stays in the new choice, both stay. If you do not like the new life choice you are given to see, seek each other, hold hands over another gem and say the words again three times to leave. Then you will move on to another choice you can examine. Remember you must hold hands over each new gem and speak the chant to take you to another choice.”

She touched the ruby. “If you move through all four choices, not finding  in any the answer to your hearts or wishing to stay, hold the ruby and say the chant to bring you back to this time and life.” She smiled. “Even then you will have choice. You do now. But then you will know more and be wiser about what different life choices can offer.”

“How do we know this will work? I have to admit to you it sounds silly and foolish, like some sort of hocus-pocus,” Morgana admitted.

“Go to a quiet place you love, select a gem, and try the chants,” Rosa answered, instead of arguing. “What do you have to lose? If nothing happens, bring the necklace back to me and I will return the five gold coins you have brought to me today.”

Julian felt a little uncomfortable then, knowing five coins was the exact amount he had brought with him. “Suppose we mingle around in these dreams and someone tries to steal the necklace?”

“I will place the necklace on Morgana and no one will be able to see it except for you and her. No one will be able to remove it either until your final decision is made. Then the necklace will return to me.”

Julian crossed his arms. “You expect to get paid and to get the necklace back, too?”

“The necklace will come to me of its own will at the end, Lord Cavendish. We have no choice in that.” She hesitated. “The only choice now is in whether you wish to take the journey and whether you will remember well the instructions to follow while in it.”

Morgana reached out to touch the necklace, which seemed to be drawing her. “I don’t see any reason not to try this, Julian. If it doesn’t work, we’ll just bring the necklace back to Rosa. I can’t see what it would hurt to simply try it. Maybe we’ll have some fun visions or something. I’m game if you are.”

He nodded. “All right. I’m game, too.”

Rosa smiled and then made them repeat all she’d told them, reminding them again that the instructions had to be followed exactly.

“I don’t want either of you lost out in this journey somewhere unwillingly. Follow all faithfully.”

After Julian had brought out his coins, Rosa put the necklace around Morgana’s neck. “Remember when you leave here, no one will see the necklace except you and Julian. And take the horses back to the stable before you go to your favorite place from which to start your journey.  Just tell your families you are going for a walk. When you return, that is what people will remember and it will seem to them only a short time since you left.”

Morgana glanced down at the necklace, which felt almost warm against her neck.

“I wish you wisdom in your journey,” Rosa said, as they left, “but know this. You should not share any of this with others now or after your travels.” She grinned widely. “People have been locked up in asylums for less, children. Keep your visions only to yourself, like your own secret dreams for all time. Take no risks. Do not share any of what occurs for you now or later.”

Julian laughed. “I can see the wisdom in that,” he said. “I’d be thought a fool by most to even be sitting here talking to you about such airy-fairy things.”

“Well, keep that wise attitude. I want no harm for you, just the answers your heart yearns for and the surety you both deserve in your future.”

Eager to see if any of the stories Rosa Varga had spun for them might be true, Morgana and Julian both returned from riding and agreed to walk and meet at their favorite bench below the bridge by the River Teign when they could slip away after dinner.

By the river at the bench later, Morgana couldn’t wait to tell Julian, “Not a single person noticed the necklace, and it is somewhat remarkable. It’s as though they couldn’t even see it.”

They drew closer on the bench then, and Julian removed one of the stones from the necklace. They held it in their hands, saying the chant three time that Rosa had made them repeat. But nothing happened.

“Well,” Julian said. “I guess we shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Maybe it was the stone we picked,” Morgana suggested. “Put the zircon back on the chain and let’s pick another.”

As he reattached it, a sweep of bright light suddenly enveloped them and it seemed to Morgana that she was spinning through space. When her vision seemed to clear, she found herself in a rough hovel, being shaken by another girl. “Hurry Morgana, we’ve got to get dressed, get our flowers and take them down to the stand. Get dressed quick; your clothes are by the bed. Ma washed them last night.”

A voice called out. “Suzannah, get in here and help me with changing the baby so I can get this breakfast ready. Your father’s already gone to the factory. And tell Morgana to hurry, too. If you girls don’t get down to the market early someone might take your spot.”

With a sense of horror, Morgana looked down to see that she slept in nothing but a thin, tattered yellowed slip and her clothes were no better as she clambered into them awkwardly, not used to dressing herself. Her hair was plaited in a long awkward braid she left alone, and she struggled  into rough, darned stockings and worn boots in some way, wishing for time to wash up. A look in the rough mirror over the sink showed her a frightful version of herself.

Oddly though, no one her seemed to know she didn’t really belong in this scene. They seemed to know her, to accept her, to know about her life and ways. After eating a little porridge of some kind, she and Suzannah took off to the market, the day only just breaking, picking up flowers along the way that they took to a rough table on the street. Suzannah chattered away along the route, seeming familiar with everyone they passed, the language so different from what Morgana was used to. Even when she talked herself it sounded different. What kind of dream was this? She spent the morning on her feet hawking flowers to all those who moved through the market, the poor and humble, and many of the wealthy, who swept by her with hardly a glance in her direction unless they wanted a bouquet.

The dirt and smell of the market, the sour scent of unwashed bodies and the odor of freshly-slaughtered meats, plus the flies and the smog made her feel ill. Suzannah chattered away between sales, completely unaware of any discomfort Morgana felt, and somehow, if mechanically, Morgana seemed to know what to do to help run the stall and later how to help their mother in the evening with several noisy children and the baby, fixing supper, and serving it all to a family of seven cramped into a poor and noisy apartment.

By the next morning, Morgana felt like crying. She missed her soft bed, not shared with two sisters who tossed and turned, one even snoring. She missed her bath, her morning chocolate, the help of her lady’s maid Melinda dressing her hair and helping her choose what to wear, the quiet sounds of her household back at Devon. By the afternoon at the market, she felt like she’d moved into a nightmare, even though the Sorensen family were obviously good people, loving and kind to her in their way. And she felt guilty at their poverty when she had so much. Why had she never wondered more how other people managed who lived in far more menial lives than hers?

Feeling dazed as the day wore on, Morgan suddenly looked up to see a young man smiling at her. He wore rough clothes, a worn, woolen flat cap, and carried an armload of papers under his arm. “Extra! Extra!” he called out, walking closer. “Horrible murder right in Whitechapel. Want a paper, lady?”

As he held one out to her, she looked at his face closer. “Julian!” she said in shock.

He leaned in as Suzannah walked a short distance away to speak to someone. “Ready to leave this life choice? I don’t think this one is for me.”

“Me, neither.” She tried to hold back her tears.

“Come slip away with me right now while she’s busy,” he said, leading her away rapidly. “We’ll find a spot where we can take another jewel from the necklace and get away from here. I think I’m covered in bedbug bites from that filthy straw mattress I slept on last night, and I’m hungry. I hope the next choice option has better food.” Morgana followed him down the street, around several corners and into the cemetery behind an old church. They sat down on a wall then to catch their breath.

Julian looked her over then. “You’re a pretty woman even in rags, Morgana Neville, but I have to say I’m happy to see you still have the necklace.”

“Like Rosa said, no one could even see it.” She took a deep breath, trying not to weep. “I never imagined the dreams of other choices Rosa talked about would be a walk into another life. Everyone seemed to know who I was, Julian, called me by name, treated me like family.”

He rubbed his neck. “I had the same experience. A little shocking to wake up to a new life like that.” He paused. “Let’s take off another of the jewels and make an escape before someone comes looking for us.”

Morgana sighed. “I wish we could pick the ruby and just go home.”

He shook his head. “No. Remember Rosa warned us if we tried that we might get stuck here in this place and time. Let’s don’t risk it”. He reached to take the sapphire off this time. “I’ll remember to put the jewel back on the necklace after we do the chants this time, too. That seemed to do the trick the first time.”

Julian took the jewel from the necklace, placed it between their hands, and began reciting with her the three chants. As he put the jewel back on the necklace he leaned in to kiss her and it was the last thing Morgana remembered before the light hit again and before they went hurtling through time.

It was a little less scary this time waking up in a new place. Morgana looked around her and realized she was in a grand English home in this choice. Studying the sparse little room and seeing another girl climbing into a servant’s uniform in the darkness, with only a candle for light, told Morgana she’d hardly moved up much in her choice options. She soon learned she now served as Lady’s Maid to an older but fortunately kind duchess. Again in this role, she was Morgana, well known to everyone as the Duchess’s maid, and she quickly learned how hard even that life was, up before dawn, working all day, often rung for at night breaking her sleep. Surprisingly, she possessed the skills needed to dress Her Grace each day, fix her hair, clean and mend her clothing, bring her tea or any other needs she asked for, helping her in any way asked. She learned a lot about the servants’ hall and their lives in the three days she spent at Hampton Castle near Exeter before she ran into Julian. He was the valet for the Duchess and Duke’s son, and Julian returned from a trip up to London with the young man, grinning at her when he first saw her and giving her a wink.

It was another day before the two could contrive a quiet moment together, sneaking away into the back garden and into the maze to find a bench to sit on to transition again to another choice.

“I guess we’re both agreed that we don’t want the lives of servants as a choice,” Julian said, leaning over to give her a kiss and a grin. “We’re certainly having an adventure, though, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” she said, hoping that the next jewel would take them to a less work-filled life. Having never worked a day in her life, it had certainly been an enlightening time.

The third jewel took them into the gentile middle class of England. Morgana found herself a schoolteacher in this life at a girls’ school in Bath. There she worked for, and lived at, a private boarding school and academy designed to train young ladies from elite families in the social graces needed for a lady of the times. Well-educated and well-trained in these areas herself, Morgana found herself well able to help prepare young ladies to dance, engage in polite conversation, become more skillful in needlework, and to learn how to run a large estate and manage servants.

At the Bath School for Young Ladies, Morgana was Miss Neville. Not Lady Neville here, as no one had ever heard of that person. It was a more cultured life, if still limited. Morgana found most of the teachers had come from families lower on the social stratus, with few expectations to marry into the upper classes. A somewhat warm camaraderie developed among the teachers that Morgana actually liked. She was there several weeks and settling comfortably in, when Julian showed up for a visit to the Headmistress at the school as the vicar of the nearby Church of England. She was introduced to him fondly as Miss Morgana, one of their accomplished teachers. Even knowing where to find Julian now, it was another week before she was able to stop by the church while on an errand. She found Julian sitting on the patio behind the rectory reading a book.

“You seem to have settled in well here,” she said, her eyes moving over his clerical robes, clean shaven face, and neatly cut hair.

He grinned at her. “It seems like I’m a very good vicar in the Church of England, and rather well-loved in the parish here in Dover. I like being by the coast here at Dover, too. It’s different from Bath. I don’t think I’ve ever seen much of England before this. Have you?”

“No, and that aspect of this adventure I have liked,” she admitted, sitting down to join him in the sunshine. “Whenever I traveled with my family in past, we always stayed on one big estate or another, at a somewhat lavish inn while traveling, or in our house in Mayfair when in London. And, of course, we never mingled with ordinary people.”

“And now we are ordinary people. I rather like what I’ve learned, and I especially like it here.” He leaned toward her. “Do you know what I’ve found out that I’ve missed most, besides the comforts I’d grown used to? I’ve missed time with you. Our friendship through the years and recently more as we’ve grown older.”

She glanced down at her lap. “I’ve missed that, too, Julian.”

“I think I’d choose you and court you in this life, Morgana, and I think I could be happy here, but there are responsibilities that call to me in our other life. I haven’t thought much about that before, but I will need to handle our estate, our lands, the people on it, the servants, and work in Parliament later, helping to shape decisions for England, making a difference. I think I know ways I’d like to do all those jobs better now.”

Morgana smiled. “I have some new ideas how I want to live, too, ways I want to work, teaching and mission work I want to do. I don’t think I’ll ever be content just to sit at home, embroider and sew and drink tea with other ladies now. Would that trouble you, to have a wife who might be a little different and more progressive?”

“No, I think I would like that very much. You’d certainly have my blessing.” He grinned. “However, I think we might need to move on again now. We still have one more choice to look at before we can choose the ruby.”

“This is our last jewel before the ruby,” she said, touching the pale blue aquamarine. “Are you ready to leave now, or do you need more time?”

“No, now is good,” he said, reaching to take the aquamarine off the necklace. “But I will hold happy memories of my life here and it has grown my faith being a rector.”

Morgana woke up this time in a posh featherbed under beautiful silk covers. Looking around her and then getting up to walk to the window, she found she’d dropped into  a fine, wealthy home in London this time, even recognizing the street near Green Park. This was the world she knew and at first it seemed a joy as her lady’s maid brought her morning chocolate and helped her dress in a lovely green brocade day dress, but at breakfast with her new family, Morgana learned to her shock that she was engaged to soon be married and then she panicked. Even in a fantasy, she couldn’t marry someone other than Julian, could she?. And where was he in this gilded world she knew so well? How would she find him?

Before the day was out she met the well-respected Viscount Randal Beaumont she was engaged to marry next month at St. George’s. He came to take her driving in Hyde Park that day and admittedly she found him charming company, easy to talk with, and with sweet manners. He gave her frequent compliments, all of which felt sincere, and the long, accessing looks he often sent her way let her know he saw her as very desirable. Oh my. This was going to be awkward.

Amazingly, Morgana had walked into this role without anyone seeming to have ever heard of Morgana Neville or her family at all. It felt queer being someone else here, Morgana Smith-Stanley, in the London society and among the Ton she already knew so well. She was simply someone else here, an odd feeling and role to play. She also realized quickly that she’d changed within from the last time she was in London. Was that really only a month or so ago? How strange that different experiences could change and shape you so quickly.

After several weeks, Morgana began to worry about Julian. Where was he? Why had she not seen him if he had transitioned into this same society? The pattern of the past didn’t seem to be following and she felt panicked with her wedding date to Viscount Randal moving closer. But, of course, there was no one she could talk to about this.

At the Alston Ball a few days later, Randal led her out onto the patio between dances and then down a few steps into the garden. There he moved in to kiss her, and with more passion than those chaste hand kisses of the past. She struggled as he pulled her closer.

“It is not our time yet Randal,” she stated firmly while trying to angle out of his hold and to keep his hands from wandering to her decolletage. Morgana the schoolteacher she’d been, with her neat high-necked dresses, had never had this difficulty!

Suddenly, a hand came down on Randal’s shoulder, and a voice said, “I think the lady has let you know she wishes you to stop your advances, sir.”

With a warm relief, Morgana recognized Julian’s voice.

“Furthermore,” he added, “that is my cousin, sir, and even though you are engaged you have no right to force attentions she does not want. I also believe I recall you are not married yet. In fact, I came to London and just arrived today to be sure I was here for the wedding.”

Straightening his cravat, Randal pulled back and then bowed to Morgana. “I beg your pardon, my dear, if my affections grew too familiar. You are so beautiful and have taken captive of my heart. Please forgive me.”

He bowed to Julian then. “I don’t believe we have met, sir.”

Julian stood upright and bowed in return. “I am Rutherford Gascoyne, the Marquis of Waterford.”

Morgana saw Randal’s eyes lift. Julian’s rank was higher than his.

“My pleasure, sir.” He turned to Morgana. “I will look for you again at the supper dance, my dear, but for now will give you a few moments to greet your cousin.”

As he walked away, Julian said in a low teasing voice, “It looks like I got here just in time, my dear. I would hate to have missed the wedding.”

Annoyed at his teasing, Morgana stalked down the garden path away from him.

He came after her and soon walked along beside her. “Please know that in this new. choice role I was delayed at the estate in Waterford. A family member had died.  I was meant to be in London earlier to help bring a sister out, and I came here for that duty as soon as I could. Once here in London and listening to the current gossip, it didn’t take long for me to learn the lovely Lady Morgana was soon to marry Viscount Beaumont.”

Morgana turned around to face him in tears. “You may be assured that I did not encourage his advances, Julian, and I’ve been panicked since I arrived that I might have to go through with a marriage I had no choice in and …”

She hesitated.

“You carry no blame in this, Morgana, and I have just learned I am a very jealous man. It was all I could do not to call the man out, although I had no right to.” Julian led her to garden bench just ahead of them and pulled her to sit down beside him.

After she straightened her skirts, he reached out to touch her face. “Morgana Neville,” he said to her, “If after this long journey of choices you would consider making the conscious choice to love and marry me, I will happily declare to you that I will love and cherish you. The choice I want for my life is you, Morgana, whether you sell flowers, are a Lady’s Maid, a teacher, or a Lady yourself. I know without reservation now that you are the one for me. I need no more choices and no more time to know that truth.”

Morgana smiled at him. “Nor I, Julian. You are my choice for all my life whether you sell newspapers, are a country vicar, a peer, or the sweet friend I’ve loved since childhood.”

He kissed her then, long and sweet.

Glancing around, he said, “We’d better say the chants with the ruby and leave right away before someone sees me kissing the woman betrothed to Viscount Beaumont. It would cause a serious scandal.”

Seeing her giggle and nod in agreement, Julian took the ruby jewel off the necklace.

Holding the ruby between their hands, they both said the chant together three times, Nothing is more precious than choices. Take me to a choice.”

As Julian put the ruby back on the necklace, they found themselves shooting through the light and ending up back at their favorite old bench below the rock bridge along the River Teign.

As they looked around with joy at the familiar scene, seeing themselves dressed in the very same clothes they’d left in so long ago, they both laughed with pleasure.

Morgana glanced down at her neck. “The necklace is gone, just as Rosa said it would be. Do you suppose she has it?”

“I imagine she does,” Julian said, taking her hand to walk her back home. “Let’s tell our families we want to set the wedding soon, that we are sure and happy with our choice.”

“I like that idea,” she agreed. “And perhaps we can invite Rosa to the wedding and shock everyone. I imagine she would bring us luck and good fortune.”

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Note: All photos my own, from royalty free sites, or used only as a part of my author repurposed storyboards shown only for educational and illustrative purposes, acc to the Fair Use Copyright law, Section 107 of the Copyright Act.