I arrived at my next-door neighbors, the Smythes, punctually for tea. It was the greatest of good fortune to find a dear friend, Martha Smythe, living so close, and I sincerely appreciated it. Today, her mother, Mrs. Smythe, hosted; the three of us would no doubt have a lovely time. Their maid, Molly, was also in attendance; I was fond of her; she often ran errands for me and Martha. I nodded to Molly.
       Molly bobbed her head, and a little of her red hair escaped her cap.
       The Smythes' drawing room was magnificent, recently done over in creams and sky blues. I exhaled in admiration. "Mrs. Smythe, you've outdone yourself with this refreshment. I feel like I'm floating in the sky at sunrise." I wasn't envious of the Smythe's interior décor, beautiful as it was. I was a little envious of Martha having a mother and such a wonderful one at that, but I was working on it. My mother had passed in childbirth, but I imagined that she would have been as kind as Mrs. Smythe.
       "Good afternoon, Emma!" Martha said enthusiastically. She did not stand up to greet me, but her considerable smile of welcome more than made up for it. Her new dress was also in shades of gold and sky blue. With her fair skin and blonde hair, she looked very pretty and fit in perfectly with the room.
       "Good afternoon, Martha. Your dress is very fetching." I smoothed my dress. It was gray silk from two seasons ago, but still more than serviceable.
       "Thank you, Emma," Mrs. Smythe said. "You're spot on time, as usual. Please take a seat." Her voice was as mellifluous as ever. Yes, I often came over for tea since Father was ofttimes out of town following his pursuits in natural philosophy. Among Mrs. Smythe's many kindnesses, such as inviting my lonely self over for tea, she was tutoring Martha in magick.
       "Please start pouring, Molly," Mrs. Smythe said. The Smythes were generally relaxed about such things as who served the tea. Another thing to recommend them.
       I sat next to Martha on the blue-and-gold damask settee.
       "But, Mr. Smythe--" Molly began.
       Then, Mr. George Smythe, Martha's annoying older brother did swan into the room. He wore a new dark green tailcoat and looked altogether handsome--not that I noticed. "Hello, Mother," he said. "Sorry, I'm late." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Martha. Emma." Standing straight, he brusquely nodded to each of us. He still treated us like children, even though he was only two years older than we were. It was exceptionally tiresome.
       "This is a nice surprise, George," Mrs. Smythe said with a broad smile.
       "Hello, George!" Martha said.
       "Good afternoon, Mr. Smythe," I said properly as I smoothed my skirt.
       He just frowned. How rude! His poor manners entirely negated his piercing green eyes and thick blond hair. Completely.
       George and his mother began conversing as Molly poured and then passed around cups and saucers--also in shades of blue and gold. Thank goodness. I didn't want to converse with George anyway.
       Martha whispered, "It worked. I got it to work!" She reached for my hand and placed it toward her lap.
       But I didn't touch her lap; I touched a warm, furry, breathing creature, apparently sitting in her lap. "Mr. Whiskers!" I whisper-shouted. "He's invisible?"
       "Yes." She nodded vigorously. "The invisibility spell worked. I wrote it down in my notebook. I'll teach it to you later." We planned to meet at my house tonight and continue our explorations of magick and natural philosophy. I was learning magick from Martha and teaching her the natural philosophy I'd learned from my father. With our complementary strengths, Martha and I made excellent partners.
       I partook of a lemon poppyseed scone and a cucumber and cream cheese sandwich.
       Martha whispered, "I think the problem was a pronunciation issue--"
       "What are you two whispering about over there?" George asked. "Whispering makes you seem suspicious."
       "Nothing," Martha said quickly. George had never evidenced any interest in magick, and the two of us weren't about to teach him. Generally, magick was the purview of females, at least amongst those in our acquaintance.
       Since we had known each other for many years, I knew just how to throw George off the scent. "I'm working on a new embroidery project of the planets."
       "Indeed?" Mrs. Smythe asked. "How unique."
       Martha was nodding furiously. "Fascinating."
       "I have dark blue embroidery thread for the background," I continued, warming to the subject.
       "Is it a royal blue or an Egyptian blue?" Martha asked, getting into the ruse.
       "I'd say it's more of an Oxford blue," I said. "And the thread for the sun is a canary yellow."
       "Not a lemon yellow?" Martha asked.
       George jumped up. "I've just remembered I'm supposed to be going for a ride." He had a gold champagne colt, Blaze, that he looked very dashing riding. Not that I regularly watched him out the window.
       "Oh, George," Mrs. Smythe said. "Don't go. You just got here. Don't you want to converse with us?"
       "Not if we're talking embroidery." He gave us all a small bow. "Ladies." He strode out of the room.
       "Why is that young man so brusque?" Mrs. Smythe asked. "It is not how Mr. Smythe and I brought him up." She shook her head a little and then gave Martha and me a calculating look. "What were you two really talking about?"
       "I got the invisibility spell to work, Mother," Martha said in her guilty voice. What was that about? She should be proud that she managed to get the spell to work.
       "What...?" Mrs. Smythe was studying Martha carefully. "Stand up, young lady."
       "Uh, perhaps now is not the optimum time..." Martha said, not standing up.
       "You better not have an invisible Mr. Whiskers here at tea with us," Mrs. Smythe said. "I've told you many times, cats do not belong at meals."
       "Uh..." Martha said.
       Mrs. Smythe sighed. "I'm proud of you for perfecting the spell, Martha. But cats at meals are unsanitary. And making Mr. Whiskers invisible could cause him to be injured. You need to think more carefully, Martha. You're practically a full-grown woman."
       I saw Martha wilt next to me. Truth be told, I felt a little wilted as well, witnessing Mrs. Smythe's disappointment. I smoothed my skirt.
       "The spell should wear off after a few hours. But, Martha, please put Mr. Whiskers somewhere safe," she said. "Now."
       Now Martha did stand, and it was odd to see her cradling an invisible something to her chest. She exited the room.
       "And how is your father, Mr. Wright, Emma?" Mrs. Smythe asked once we were alone. Her voice was melodic once again. I relaxed.
       I acquired another cream cheese and cucumber sandwich. "He's very well, Mrs. Smythe. He's traveling now, I think, in France."
       She crinkled her nose up a little, but in an elegant way. "That sounds like a trial. Well, Mr. Smythe and I send him our best."
       "I appreciate it. And how is Mr. Smythe?" I asked. Even though I came over here most days, I rarely saw Mr. Smythe. He apparently worked long hours at the bank.
       "He is very well," she said. "I'll tell him you asked after him." She paused. "Emma, what do you make of our George?"
       What did I make of him in what context? Did I think he was handsome? Charming? Dashing? Brusque? Annoying? Irritating? "Uh..."
       Martha reappeared. Phew. Saved by the best friend. She truly was a treasure.

       After dinner, I sat in my front parlor, waiting, arms crossed, tapping my right foot. Our parlor had no décor scheme as such, but that was all right. There were more important things than décor --namely, family, friendship, and education. Of course, I treasured loved ones like Father and Martha. I also treasured learning new things about magick and natural philosophy. Father encouraged me to follow all intellectual pursuits; bless him. Unfortunately, he was often busy with his business dealings. This was not a blessing because I missed him dreadfully when he was away on his travels, as he was now.
       This evening I was quite impatient to start our experiment, but I'd promised my dearest friend Martha I would wait for her, and of course, I would keep my word. Martha loved natural philosophy as much as I, but her mother was not enthusiastic about it. As magick was the purview of females, natural philosophy was chiefly the purview of males. Consequently, we were sometimes forced to conduct our investigations in the dark of night.
       And then, Martha burst into the parlor. Our staff had long since given up on Martha and me behaving like proper ladies and had given us free rein. "I'm so sorry to be late, Emma!" She still wore her impeccable gold-and-blue gown.
       "It's fine, Martha. I'm sure you did your best to be punctual." I stood. "But what are you wearing? Your exquisite dress might be ruined down in the lab." Providentially, Father kept a fully equipped laboratory in the basement.
       "I know," she said. "But George was watching me avidly. He has deciphered that when I dress poorly, I'm coming over here to join you in an investigation, so I had to throw him off the scent." George was often an impediment to our plans. He paid entirely too much attention to us.
       I suppressed an unladylike sigh, smiling at Martha instead. "Well, you're here now. And I am very happy to see you." I walked over to her and linked her arm in mine. "Let's go to my room. I'm sure I can find you something less pretty and more practical."
       A little later, suitable attired, we descended into the laboratory. I'd come down earlier and lit all the candles in preparation. The laboratory was generously sized and featured several sturdy lab tables and multiple lab stools. Against one wall, we even had some caged, specially bred laboratory mice we used in our investigations. I knew it was very fortuitous to have the latest equipment to study all the elements of natural philosophy, including biology, mechanics, optics, and astronomy.
       For the last few fortnights, we'd used Father's telescope to document the phases of the moon from new moon, waxing crescent, first quarter, waxing gibbous, full moon, waning gibbous, third quarter, to waning crescent. We'd made some lovely pencil sketches and affixed them to the wall.
       "Studying the moon was fun," Martha said. "I wish I could keep some of our sketches." She brushed the sketch of the full moon with her fingertips.
       "Someday, I believe you'll be able to," I said.
       "It's hard to see Mother agreeing," she said. "And we're about to turn twenty years of age. Mother says I have to start thinking about getting married." That was a distressing thought; I'd hate to lose Martha. "Will my husband let me continue studying natural philosophy?" she continued.
       Would my husband let me? That was also a distressing thought.
       "Well, you'll keep the knowledge you've attained forever." I tried to comfort her. "You know what the moon's phase will be tonight, right?"
       "Full. It will be lovely." She nodded. "Shall I teach you the invisibility spell?" She pulled her notebook out of her reticule.
       My thoughts were racing. "Maybe not tonight while you're here? We have limited time this evening. We could go over it tomorrow at your house, perhaps before tea?"
       "Yes," she said. "Plus, I have very thorough instructions here." She shook the notebook. "Our experiment tonight should be decidedly engaging. You said you wanted to test a brand-new idea? Something about animals changing from one kind to another?"
       "Yes!" I said. "The famous zoologist Baptiste Lamarck said an organism can pass on physical characteristics it acquired in life to its offspring."
       "Other natural philosophers have also said that," Martha said, "Hippocrates, Aristotle, and others."
       "I heard a new idea." I may have been loitering outside the Royal Society meeting--but in a totally ladylike way. "Differences in an organism's characteristics might lead to differential survival and reproduction of individuals."
       Martha creased her brow. "Hhm. This is all very interesting. Continue, please."
       Then, I had an even more brilliant idea. "What do you think about combining natural philosophy with magick?"
       "I think that's an amazing idea!" She put her notebook on the lab table and started leafing through it. "There's an uncommonly interesting spell..."
       We'd been engrossed in our work for I didn't know how long, when George burst into the lab. "There you are!" he said. "Mother's been worried sick!"
       Unfortunately, it was at the most inopportune moment. I'd been right in the middle of casting a spell: "... transfigurat lumen lunae ab animali in aliud..." My hands jerked away from the mouse we'd been focused on.
       "George!" Martha said. "You can't just burst in here."
       "I agree," I said, smoothing my skirt. "This is uncalled for."
       "You don't understand. We were worried. I was worried about you two," he said. "I'm your big brother and you..." He pointed at me. "You hardly have anyone. I have to take care of you, too."
       "I feel strange," Martha said.
       "What's wrong?" I asked. Had my hands pointed in her direction when the spell was interrupted?
       "I also feel strange," George said, sitting on a lab stool.
       "Strange, how?" Did I point at him, too?
       "Not sure," George said.
       "I'm also unsure," Martha said.
       "You look okay." I stared at them. "Maybe you should go home and go to bed, forthwith?"
       "I think that's a good idea," George said. "Come on, Martha."
       She nodded, grabbed her belongings, and let him lead her by the hand up the stairs. I followed them to the front door and watched them walk home under the setting sun. The sun surely set late on these summer days. They entered their front door, and I thought that was that.
       I'd just settled into bed with a good book, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus, when I heard someone pounding on the front door. That was never a good sign. I pulled on the gray silk dress I'd just taken off.
       Soon, someone knocked on my bedroom door.
       I opened it and was quite surprised to see Molly. "Oh, Miss Wright," she said, no sign of her cap, her hair in disarray. I'd never seen her without her cap. "You have to come to the Smythes! It's so strange. Please come!"
       This was looking and sounding increasingly ominous. "Of course, Molly. I'll come." The two of us ran out of the house. Outside, with the full moon, it was almost as bright as day. We ran over to the Smythes' home and right inside. Molly led me upstairs straight to George's room. She stopped, shaking, and pointed at the door.
       "George's room? You want me to go in there?" I asked, smoothing my skirt. "This is very improper. I can't go in there."
       "Oh, Miss," she said. "You have to."
       I heard a strange noise inside, a sort of horsey noise. "All right, but you have to come, too." I grabbed her hand, opened the door and stepped inside.
       I saw a horse! Inside a bedroom! It was a real beauty, a gold champagne colt with piercing green eyes. How could a horse possibly be in a bedroom? It was not logical.
       I looked into those eyes, and they were very familiar. "This is not Mr. Smythe's horse, Blaze, is it, Molly?" My confusion was extreme. These familiar, piercing green eyes were George's eyes. I'd know them anywhere.
       "George?" I asked.
       He neighed and flicked his mane.
       Oh, my word. This was an immense disaster. I put my hand on my racing heart.
       "No, Miss, not Blaze," Molly said, gulping. "Blaze is in the stable."
       "We need reinforcements," I said. "We need Martha."
       "But, Miss..." Molly said.
       I dragged Molly with me to Martha's room. But inside, there was no Martha. Instead, there was Mr. Whiskers (visible again) and a cat that resembled Mr. Whiskers with long, white fur-- but with blue eyes. Familiar eyes. Oh no. This was a gargantuan disaster.
       "Martha?" I whispered.
       She replied, "Mew."
       Molly fell on the floor in a dead faint. I could not blame her.
       I sank down next to Molly on the floor, mind racing. Clearly, our spell had gone wrong. But how? And why was Martha a cat and George a horse? It was all exceptionally mystifying.
       Molly was stirring.
       "Are you all right, Molly?" I asked.
       "I think so, Miss," she said. "But, it gets worse, Miss."
       "Worse?" I asked. "How could it possibly get worse?"
       "Mr. Smythe is expected home any moment," she said.
       Oh no! That was worse. There was no doubt in my mind that Mr. Smythe would ban me from his home and his family if he thought I was responsible for turning his beloved children into animals.
       And, in fact, I did turn his beloved children into animals.
       "Miss Wright," Molly said. "You have to do something."
       But I didn't have the first notion of how to turn George and Martha back into people.
       I didn't think Mrs. Smythe would be overly happy with the situation either, so I didn't want to ask for her assistance if I could avoid it. It would break my heart to be banned from the Smythes.
       My gaze struck the no-longer-invisible Mr. Whiskers. "Invisible! We'll make them invisible!"
       I found Martha's notebook on her vanity and located the invisibility spell. I followed the instructions explicitly, including chanting, "...invisibilis..." multiple times.
       And cat-Martha disappeared.
       And just in time, because I could hear the front door open. "Quick, Molly, get in the bed and cover yourself with the coverlet. If anyone comes to check on Martha, you must pretend to be her."
       "But how?" she wailed.
       "Keep covered. Just mumble something," I said. "You can do it. I have faith in you."
       With the notebook, I ran back to George's room. Standing outside for a moment, staring at his bedroom door, I heard someone take a step on the stairs. I should not go in there, definitely not. Absolutely not. Then, I heard another creak on the stairs.
       There was no help for it. I had to go inside George's room at night. I quickly darted inside.
       George neighed softly. For a second, I wondered what he was trying to say.
       "Shh!" I whisper-shouted. "Be quiet. Your father's coming!"
       I quickly performed the spell, and horse-George disappeared.
       Someone rattled the doorknob.
       Without thinking about it, I jumped into the bed, pulling the coverlet over my head.
       The door opened. "George?" Mr. Smythe said.
       I rustled around in the bed and mumbled in what I hoped was a deep voice.
       It must have worked because Mr. Smythe said, "Good night, my boy."

       I was totally mortified when I awoke in George's room, in his bed. The first rays of sunrise shone through the windows, illuminating my shame. I could never live this down.
       George lay clothed on top of the covers next to me. "You would not believe the dream I had last night," he said in a low voice. "But it's not as good as the dream I'm having right now." His forefinger reached for my cheek. "I always knew we would end up together."
       I was out of that bed like a shot. "George!"
       "What?" He grinned impishly at me. "You're the one in my room, in my bed, alone with me."
       The doorknob rattled, and my heart fell. I was ruined, totally and utterly ruined.
       But it was only Martha. "Oh, thank goodness, you're all right, George." She stopped dead after entering. But what is happening? Emma, you can't be alone with George in his bedroom."
       "I'm not," I said. "You're here."
       She looked like she wanted to argue, but restrained herself. "What happened last night? I could have sworn I was a cat."
       "You, too?" George asked. "I dreamed I was a horse. Wait." He looked alarmed. "Are you saying it wasn't a dream?"
       "Well, you're not a cat or a horse now," I said, backing up to the door. "You're people, human people. Totally normal people."
       "I guess our spell went wrong?" Martha said.
       "What spell?" George asked, piercing green eyes narrowing. They were alluring eyes, darn it.
       "I apologize, George, Martha," I said. "Our spell clearly went wrong, and I was the one casting it, so it was my mistake. We attempted to combine magick and natural philosophy."
       "Yeah," Martha was shaking her head. "In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea."
       "But, on the bright side," I said very quietly, opening the door, "it's over now. The spell must have worn off." Many spells had a finite lifetime. "So... huzzah. Problem solved."
       No one (including me) looked convinced, but Martha snuck me out the front door. And thank the stars above, no one found out I spent the night in George's bedroom.
       Over the next two fortnights, Martha and I talked ad nauseam about what had happened. I hypothesized that Martha turned into a cat because she had Mr. Whiskers' cat-essence on her, and George turned into a colt because he had Blaze's colt-essence on him. Natural philosophers had been discussing creatures' biological essences lately.
       I'd also thought a lot about what George had said about us ending up together, and did allow him to take me on some (properly chaperoned!) carriage rides in the park. Martha thought George would soon propose, and we would be true sisters. Truth be told, that sounded wonderful. I'd finally admitted to myself that I'd loved George for quite some time.
       We'd all thought the spell had worn off.
       Truly.
       Until the next full moon.
       I was in my bedroom, enjoying my novel, when Molly burst into my room. Good grief, there was entirely too much bursting into rooms around here. Thank goodness I hadn't put on my nightclothes yet.
       "It's happening again, Miss Wright!" she shrieked.
       "What's happening exactly?" But my spirits were already sinking. I realized in the back of my mind that I'd been dreading our misadventure was not completely over.
       "Mr. Smythe is a horse again," she said, shaking. "Miss Smythe is a cat again." She sank onto my bed. "Oh, Lord, I don't understand all this."
       Unfortunately, I thought I did. I'd heard of were-wolves before, creatures that transformed from man to wolf only on the full moon. I'd believed them to be fictional. Current events seemed to indicate, possibly not.
       Somehow, Martha and I had created a were-cat and a were-horse. The evidence was difficult to refute--much as I would like to.
       "Please take me to the Smythe's home, Molly," I said, standing and smoothing my skirt. "For tonight, I can make them invisible again."
       She stood up. "And then what?"
       "Then..." I sighed. "I hate to say it, but we need to consult with some more knowledgeable experts. My father should be able to help us with the natural philosophy. Mrs. Smythe can help us with the magick. Working together, we should be able to remedy this. I just fervently hope our parents will forgive us, forgive me, for all this."
       I evenly more fervently hoped Martha and George would forgive me. It would break my heart if I lost the friendships and affections of my dearest friend and my dearest love.
       As Molly and I walked under the luminous moonlight over to the Smythe's home, I tried to convince myself it wasn't so horrible. They were truly bothered only one night of the month. That wasn't too severe, was it?
       They'd forgive me, right?
       It would demolish my heart if they didn't.
       They had to forgive me. Right?