She could see the flash of Mary’s white smile in the dark. “Saving your ass. Let’s get you out of those clothes and wrapped in a blanket. I brought you food too. It’s a meat pasty. Whatever that is. And I wouldn’t ask what kind of meat,” she said and started to undo the back of Helen’s dress.
“How…why…are you here though?” Helen asked around a mouthful of food.
“How what? How did I get here? Time machine. Why? Because you died. In our time period, you never made it back to shore.” Mary tugged hard on the fabric of her sleeves, the boat rocking as she did so.
Helen swallowed. “Then…and don’t think I’m not grateful, but couldn’t you have come a bit sooner?”
Mary shuddered. “I’ve been here for two days. Kind of. They thought I was dead. You don’t want to know what they do to dead homeless people in this time,” she said, her voice curiously hollow. “I made it, that’s the important thing.” It was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. With a final tug, the dress came off, and Helen squeaked in surprise when Mary huddled close to her and draped blankets over them. Her body was warm; almost burning in contrast to Helen’s iced flesh.
“The Germans! They’re here,” Helen said, softly.
“Yeah. We know.”
“At least the plans are gone. Did it work? Have you ever heard of the Warmaker?” If Helen had managed to change history, preventing the Warmaker from ever reaching the Germans, then Mary would have no idea what Helen was talking about.
Mary paused mid-stroke. “No, Helen, you didn’t. The Warmaker Offensive went ahead just like before.”
“How?” she exploded. “The plans were on that boat!”
“We don’t know. Maybe it was on another boat?” Mary asked.
Her voice was low with conviction. “No, it was this one. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, then, maybe somebody else survived too. Maybe they had two sets.”
“I failed,” Helen said, her voice breaking.
“Failed, shmailed We’ve got a new mission. Give you a chance to get yourself into the history books as a hero, after—Oh shit!” Mary exclaimed in a harsh whisper. She reached for the lantern, opening the door and blowing out the candle, plunging them into the dark. “Quiet, I can hear him.”
Helen stilled, straining to listen. Several seconds later she heard it, Edward’s voice, loud and hoarse as he called for her. She turned to look, seeing another boat moving slowly through the water, brightly lit, illuminating the dark. Was he close enough to see her?
Grief overwhelmed her, and she bit her lip to keep herself from responding, from telling him that she was alright. Mary’s hand clasped her arm, sliding down to squeeze her hand in the dark.
And then there was silence. 30 seconds, then 40. “Helen!” he shouted again, this one desperate and final, carrying across the water. She could hear the anguish in it. She covered her mouth with her arm, a noisy sob escaping her despite herself. It was muffled, not nearly loud enough to get his attention, but she wished….
There was no point in wishing.
She was not someone who had the luxury of want. But maybe it was because she had almost died, or because she could almost feel Edward out there in the ocean with her, searching for her. His grief at her loss was a terrible comfort. Even though she wasn’t supposed to dream, she imagined what it would be like to respond to him. Could almost hear his shout of joy and the stern way he’d scold her. Maybe she’d even get that spanking he’d threatened. He would pull her into his arms and warm her. Kiss her and hold her close. And then what? Would he be so shaken that he would finally put aside his morals and make love to her?
Would he break off his engagement, not marry his heiress, and stay with her as she and Mary tried to kill the Nazis who’d come back in time? Would he try and involve himself, putting himself in front of her and into danger at every opportunity?
He’d get himself killed.
My powers of fantasy suck. She should’ve dwelled on the sex and cut out the end where reality intruded. The Germans were here. Mary was here, and they apparently had a new mission. She was a soldier. She’d survived this mission, but that didn’t mean she would survive the next. Wasn’t it best for him to think that she was dead?
They sat in silence for what felt like forever, listening as he called and called until his voice gave out. The boat disappeared into the fog, and still they sat there. He’d probably given up by now. Back to shore and his fancy carriage, going back to his townhouse in Mayfair and his fiancée.
Which was exactly what he was supposed to do. She wished it didn’t hurt so much.
She couldn’t stand not knowing. “What about him? Does he…live for a long time? Is he happy?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you,” Mary said quietly.
Helen closed her eyes, wishing she could take the memory of Edward away. Love sucked.
“But what the hell. You had a bad day. He’s the reason we know what happened to you,” she said softly. “He had a journal. It was the last entry. The name of the boat, the time, description of the fire and a newspaper clipping.”
“The last entry?” Helen asked, feeling muddled and frozen.
“He never wrote again. He’d kept one for years. Seems a bit of a problem for these people, writing down stuff,” Mary said, trying to make a feeble joke, and referencing why she’d become involved with him in the first place. “But Helen, he even wrote your name. If he hadn’t left that for us, we wouldn’t have been able to find you. He kind of saved your life.”
Helen choked down a sob and pressed her forehead hard against her folded arms. “His life doesn’t change, Helen. He gets married and has children. He sponsors inventors and becomes a big philanthropist. When he gets married, he goes from being rich, to making-a-difference rich. But you’re under orders never to see him again.
Tears spilled down her cheeks and her heart felt as if it were breaking. “Why do I feel like I’m making a huge mistake by letting him think I’m dead?”
“Because you love him,” Mary paused, “and it’s made you an idiot.”
Mary moved away from her and picked up the oars, beginning to row them back to shore. It didn’t take very long, but Mary kept checking her compass, and when they hit shore, it was a rocky beach and not the docks. “Now what?” Helen asked as they pulled the boat onto the shore.
“We enjoy the English seaside for the night, try not to die from the cold, and in the morning we find the Germans and kill them all. After I get clothes.”
“I know a good seamstress.”
Mary frowned. “I thought I was supposed to find a haberdasher?”
“Did Daniel tell you that? He doesn’t know what the hell he's talking about.”
“I'm just messing with you.”
Helen grabbed Mary, wrapping her tight in a naked hug. “I’ve missed you!”
Mary squeaked. “You’re cold! Get the hell off me!”
Helen sniffed and pulled back. “You stink. What is that?”
“Cemetery. Don’t…ask,” she gritted out.
Helen laughed. “Oh. Wait, they really thought you were dead? I think I thought that was a bad joke or something.”
“Sadly, no. And if you think that’s a bad joke, you just wait until I tell you what we’re supposed to do next.”
“What?” she asked, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
“What do you know about gaming halls and brothels?”
“Oh fuck.”
“I don’t think we have to do that. But I’m not sure.” She waved a hand at Helen airily. “Don’t worry it’ll be fine. We’ll play some cards, drink some booze, uncover a secret society that’s gathering money for the Germans; it’ll be fun. We’ve got to track down a woman. Ms. Wells she’s called.”
“She was Colchester’s mistress.”
“Nooo, she was Colchester’s boss. We think. That’s one of the many things we get to figure out.”
“I almost met her earlier tonight. Edward and I went to
a party she had at Colchester’s house.”
“Does Edward know her? Because you kind of need to be involved in this.”
“No. He was there because of me. There’s no way I’d run into him at a brothel.”
“Great. Problem solved. Now it’ll be easy.”
“How can you say that? You just cursed us. You can’t say stuff like that out loud.”
“I take it back. I’ll throw salt over my shoulder at the first opportunity. Now let’s go find some Nazis.”
A Lady Out of Time (Helen Foster) Page 16
