Beyoncé's POV
As the time traveling basket came to a rest, I could see abandoned boxes of stuff all around me, illuminated by the dim light streaming in through the windows. For a moment, I marveled at how this room had been used as a storage space for so long. In the early 2000s, it officially became a laboratory.
Eager to start my adventure, I grabbed my bags and hopped out of the basket. With a strange feeling, I then watched the basket retract back up the wormhole, watching as it vanished soon after. This was the farthest back I had ever gone. So far, I'd only gone as far back as 1902.
I slung my bags over my shoulder and went to the rear door. This time, it looked rather new. I quietly unlocked the door and stepped out into Friday, April 25th, 1869.
Quickly, I noticed that I'd promptly stepped into mud as well. The alley behind the building, which was paved in later years, wasn't in 1869. I supposed it had rained during the night, causing the dirt in the alley to turn into a rather large puddle of mud.
"Mud. How wonderful," I grumbled as I locked the backdoor and headed out.
Coming around the alley, the first thing I spotted was a light horse-drawn carriage, known as a dogcart. Its driver, who appeared to be a laborer of some sort, paid me no attention as he urged his horses down the cobblestone street.
It was then that I noticed the smell. It was 1869 after all, a time when horses were the common form of transportation. As soon as I stepped out onto the unpaved road, I got a nice whiff of horse dung. First mud, now the wonderful aroma of horse shit. Great.
Looking around, I could see that the street was practically deserted, which made sense being that it was only just after six in the morning. The city of London was only just waking up and going about its day. Having a very long way to go, I looked back at the old buildings for a little while longer, then started making my way to where I needed to be.
Every other time that I'd come out here from Herford, I took the underground route. But unfortunately, the tube hadn't been built yet, so I had to take the long way. I thought of how I could've catch a horse-drawn carriage, but being that I was limited on 19th century cash, I wanted to save my money.
Besides the obvious differences, such as the absence of cars or anything modern, one thing really stuck out to me: the people.
As I walked, I started to see many laborers in rough looking clothes on their way to work. I could tell that many of these people had a hard life. The pain was etched all over their faces and in their eyes. In my research before the trip, I'd seen many pictures of men working long hours under the most miserable conditions. Clearly, these were those men. Many of the older ones looked tired and worn out. I also noted how the people in 1869 London didn't smell all that great. The overwhelming scent that hung in the air was sweat. And poverty.
The workers paid me little to no attention as I walked. In my military uniform, I appeared to be just another out-of-work soldier. Only upon closer examination would anyone notice my long hair and soft feminine features. However, I wasn't trying to tempt fate, so I kept my hair under my hat and avoided looking anyone in the eye.
It was odd; I kept expecting to find myself walking off a film set to find lights and cameras just around a corner. But this was no film set. The horses, buggies, wagons, cobblestone streets, and workmen were all real.
About an hour into my walk, I spotted a prostitute in a well-worn and torn red velvet dress, her make-up crudely done and appearing to be a solid veteran of the streets. She leaned against a building, waiting with a thin cigar in her mouth. It then occurred to me that in about nineteen short years, Jack the Ripper would begin his reign of terror right in this neighborhood.
Aside from the workmen, I noticed many other poor and destitute people. There was a group of children dressed in rags, playing tag in an alley. They looked filthy, and their unkempt hair spoke of neglect. Not wanting to attract attention, I averted my eyes and kept going, making sure not to lock eyes with the beggars that lined the streets.
I can now understand why Charles Dickens wrote so frequently about the poverty and despair of the down and out. The suffering was everywhere. Many might have chosen to ignore it, but he obviously didn't.
Feeling hungry after walking around for another hour, I passed a number of food vendors at their little stands. For two pence, I bought an apple and a small loaf of bread. There were some sausages available as well, but they looked rather nasty. And of course, being in Victorian England, I had to get acquainted to the completely insane money system.
They had 20 shillings to a pound, 12 pence to a shilling, a florin, which was 2 shillings, a half crown, which was 2 shillings and 6 pence, and various other denominations that gave me a headache just thinking about it.
Eating along the way, I tried to blend in. Thankfully, most everyone paid me no mind, though one or two did give me strange looks, probably due to my US Army coat, hat, and boots.
About three hours into my walk, it started to rain. It was England, so I wasn't too surprised. Bad weather in this country was almost like the law. I could have fallen for a girl from California who actually lived during my time, but love isn't something one can control, unfortunately. It never works that way.
I was about halfway to my destination when thankfully, the rain paused for a time. I was standing in the middle of the street in working-class London when I heard someone call out from behind me.
"Oy! You're an American. I recognize that uniform."
Stopping, I spun around to see a man with short brown hair, who looked to be in his twenties. He studied me for a moment, then his eyes suddenly went wide. "You're a girl."
I stared at him blankly then snorted sarcastically. "Aren't you a bright one."
I was put off for a moment, but then I smiled back at him, trying to hide my annoyance. His teeth were crooked and yellow, like he'd never seen a toothbrush in his life.
"Well, madam, if you're new in town, I'd be happy to show you some sights..." He trailed off as he placed his hand on my arm, his intentions becoming all too clear. Without hesitation, I promptly kicked him in his shin, causing him to cower over in pain. Judging by the shocked look on his face, he definitely wasn't expecting that.
A few other people standing nearby looked at me, just as shocked as he was. Apparently, they had never seen a woman kick a man like that before, at least not in the middle of the street.
Giving him once lasts hard stare, I leaned over and said, "Listen up, you lousy glock. It's impolite to touch a woman without her permission, especially one you've never met. If you know what's good for you, you'll stand far away until I'm out of sight." Playing the part, I tossed in a Victorian era slang word. In the 19th century, the word "glock" meant half-wit.
With that, I stood up and walked away. As I left, at least one woman gave me an approving nod. I continued walking through the rain across London. This time, the rain didn't stop. So, I trudged on, getting soaked to the bone. My legs and arms were hurting like hell. After all, I was carrying two bags. The pain would just have to be worthwhile. Soon, I would be meeting Normani, and most importantly, be saving her life.
As I approached Herford, I found it strange that half of the town I was familiar with simply wasn't there anymore. Where the movie theatre "used to be" was now an empty field. Where a block of apartments once stood was now a grove of trees.
But wearily, I trudged on again. From my research, I had learned that the Tavern/Inn that Normani's father ran was on the far edge of town, near the park that still exists today. The Tavern itself was torn down sometime around 1917. Normani and her family lived in a decent-sized house that sat next door. However, that house was torn down as well in 1956. The land they once owned is now filled with rather dull complexes that all look the same.
Finally, after six and a half hours of walking, I made it to my destination at the heart of Herford. A chunk of the town was as I remembered it. I even passed the site of the bakery where, 145 years from now, I'll be living. But for now, a stable sits quaintly in its place.
At that point, I crossed the street to St. Michael's church. It looked very much the same, except the graveyard around it seemed much smaller. What really brought a smile to my weary face was the fact that there was no grave in the spot where Normani was buried in my time. Right now, she's alive, probably working the tavern or off riding horses somewhere.
Continuing on, my legs screamed in pain as I reached the last mile to the inn. But with each step, my heart beat faster. I was so close. That was pretty much the only thing that kept me going.
Finally, I reached it. Standing in the still pouring rain, I found myself in front of a large two-story wooden structure. A sign hung above the door: "Three Bell's Inn."
Exhausted yet filled with anticipation, I walked though it. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim candlelight, but soon, I found myself standing in what appeared to be a large common room.
There were several wooden tables and chairs lined up all over the place, half of which were occupied by various customers. To my right, along the wall, was a bar with several casks on shelves behind it. To my left, through a doorway, was a small dining room. Past that was a stairway leading up to a balcony. I could see four doors up there, assuming they were rooms to be rented at the inn.
Then, I saw her.
She was standing by the bar, chatting with an older gentleman seated at a table. She had a smile on her face and seemed to be grossly engaged in a lively conversation with him. Normani was wearing a graceful but simple-looking white dress, and her gorgeous dark brown locks were held up by a hairpin.
At that moment, the fact that I was nearly exhausted, sore, and soaking wet didn't even remotely matter to me. I stood there, paralyzed and awestruck by her beauty. The picture which I had, that I carried with me and admired everyday, scantly did her justice. From the doorway, I could see the most alluring brown eyes I'd ever been graced by. Normani had flawless cheekbones and a confident stance too. Her smile, my favorite part of her thus far, was beyond my imagination.
Much to my surprise, moments later, she stopped speaking with the man beside her and looked directly at me. I thought my heart might explode. Normani smiled then began to walk towards me. My body felt paralyzed as my jaw opened slightly, my mind completely turning to mush.
"Hello, Miss. Welcome to the Three Bells Inn," Normani greeted me politely, her perfect teeth on full display. Her voice was just as lovely as I'd expected. Her English-accented tone was like that of an angel's. It was honey to my ears.
"Uh..." That was all I was capable of mustering at that moment. There she was, my love, my passion, standing right in front of me, and all I could do is stand still there like a fool. I couldn't move or even think. Part of me wanted to declare my eternal love for her right then and there, but I restrained myself. Even if that was a good idea, which it wasn't, I could barely speak anyways.
Normani tilted her head and looked me over with a concerned look. "My dear, you're soaked to the bone and rather faint. If you're looking for a bed for the evening, you've come to the right place."
"Uh... Miss... Miss... I... I... I'm a girl... woman... I mean miss... female... I'm a girl," I sputtered out, sounding very much like a simpleton. Someday, I'll be able to form complete sentences again. I hope that day is right now.
Normani took another look at me, eyeing me carefully with a quiet laugh. "A girl you are indeed. A lovely one, might I add. Your clothes were a bit deceiving, but I think I've figured you out," she jokes earnestly. "And an American on top of it, judging by your accent."
I nodded.
"So... What brings you to Herford?"
My mind went wild. You... yes, you... my love... let me carry you off somewhere to keep you safe and worship you! Then we can get married tomorrow, no... now. Have babies... lots of babies. Oh God... she's got me so screwed up, I'm already planning our family, and I don't even like babies! But God, I hope they all have her perfect eyes.
I cringed the longer my inner monologue went on and on. I was falling apart at the seams right in front of her and there was nothing I could do about it.
Finally, I managed to mumble, "I'm... I'm traveling. Visiting England for the first time."
Technically true. Yes, I traveled across 145 years of time to meet you then promptly embarrass myself.
Quickly, Normani nodded. "Well, then welcome to Herford. This is a fair town. I am sure you'll enjoy yourself greatly. Have a seat and a pint if you'd like. We serve a limited dinner menu after six in the evening. Unfortunately, we have no available rooms to rent at the moment, but if you wait a few hours for some of our patrons to leave..."
"Job," I said, as my mind partially came back to life.
"What?" Normani asked, suddenly looking absolutely puzzled.
Realizing I was on the verge of blowing my one way in, after a final internal pep talk, I managed to piece myself together.
"Well, I'm traveling all across Europe but I'm missing the funds. I'd like to ideally find some work here, if you're currently aware of anything? I've heard whispers that one of your servant girls has left your father's employ. I'm a good and hard worker. I can't say I'll stay forever, but this is a fine place and I would like to stay for a few months until you find a permanent replacement," I explained, pleasantly surprised by the way I'd managed to keep my cool this time. "You'll have to excuse my odd behavior. I've been walking for hours in the rain, and I'm cold, wet, and tired."
From the look on Normani's face, I could tell that she seemed to understand.
"Not to worry," she said with kindness. "That's quite excusable. We welcome many weary travelers here." She then thought for a moment and looked even more confused. "You heard that Molly left? How?"
I nodded my head, quickly coming up with a little white lie. "I overheard someone in the village talking about it."
Normani scratched her head. "That's strange. She told my father she was leaving less than an hour ago."
Shit. Had I arrived a bit earlier, I would have ended up asking for the job before the girl even quit. Thinking quickly, I responded, "Small towns. News and gossip do travel fast."
"You're quite right," Normani said with a smile as she extended her hand. "You'll have to talk to my father, but I think you'll do. I'm Normani Hamilton. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
I quickly shook her hand, but at that point, my mind was going wild again. She was touching me... her skin was so soft and warm. I was so tempted to place the gentlest of kisses upon it, but I refrained. If she touched me any longer, I might've just pass out on the spot.
"Um... I'm Beyoncé... Beyoncé Knowles. I'm from Houston, Texas," I introduced myself. "I'm glad to meet you."
Normani then pointed to a door near the bar. "Well, Beyoncé Knowles of Houston, Texas, come with me. My father is in his office. I have the utmost confidence that he will approve your employment."
I couldn't help but grin as I walked beside her.
"Perfect."
...
Hey readers ☺️,
So, the moment has finally arrived! Beyoncé has successfully travelled to 1869 and met Normani for the first time. I'd love to hear your thoughts 😇
Thoughts on Beyoncé's first reactions to 1869? Everything she saw on her way to Normani?
Any first impressions of Normani or thoughts on how they first meet? What are you guys most looking forward to happening between them?
Any other thoughts or predictions? Leave them here!
As always, thank you all so much for reading. I'll see y'all again soon 🤍