P.S. I Love You

by Jo Noelle

  “I didn’t ask.”

  Aunt Nellie approached the couple. “I got some news from Lady Atkins, unwilling though she was, and will go with you. Their carriage took the road on the west side of your estate.”

  “Coldstream.” A vicious thought tumbled through Simon’s head, and he entertained it momentarily. If Wetheridge married Cora, she would immediately become a widow.

  “It appears,” Nellie replied. “Lady Atkins is locked in the kitchen pantry until we return.”

  “If you’re going, I could stay and—” the dowager began.

  Simon cut off whatever his mother was going to say. “You’re coming, and you’re going to beg forgiveness for your part before she returns. Get a shawl or don’t, but we are all leaving now.”

  Aunt Nellie said, “I’ve requested your horse and a carriage on your behalf.” Then she turned to Simon’s mother. “Lord and Lady Cottrell will take care of your daughters and guests. Shall we be off?”

  When the carriage arrived, Simon handed his mother in.

  Aunt Nellie swatted the dowager on the seat and crowded close behind her on the steps without waiting for Simon’s help. “Get in there, Your Grace, or we’ll miss the best part.”

  A groom arrived, leading Zephyr, the horse Simon purchased a few months ago. “He’s barely broke, but dangerous fast.”

  Simon jumped into the saddle and kicked the horse to a run.

  The dowager duchess huffed an exaggerated breath. “I don’t know why we’re bothering to follow. Simon will reach them long before we arrive.”

  Nellie pulled a small pouch from her pocket and dumped some glistening dust into her palm. “Is the latch secure, Your Grace?” she asked, pointing to the door they’d entered. When the woman turned her attention to check it, Nellie blew the dust toward the front of the vehicle. It disappeared as it passed through the carriage walls to the horses, as she intended. “I’m sure we’ll get along rather quickly.”

  Chapter 24

  Cora

  The barouche stopped, and Cora heard the door open. They would have to untie her to take her into a building. Surely she could free herself or get help from someone here.

  “Go get us a room,” Wetheridge commanded someone, and then she was lifted to sit. Immediately the quilt became wet around her face and was being pressed to her mouth and nose with a cloying sweet smell. It reminded her of old detective movies where a damp rag of chloroform was held to someone’s face until they were unconscious. She swung her head from side to side but couldn’t escape the smell. She held her breath until she gasped.

  Her head swam, and her muscles felt weak. She sagged against the seat. Although she had some awareness of being unwrapped, she couldn’t move her own legs or arms very well. She wanted to panic, but her current state sapped her will to think.

  She was lifted to her feet—they felt heavy and numb. Her knees wobbled under the weight of standing.

  “Please forgive me,” Wetheridge said as a very large, very hairy man grabbed her other arm as they entered the public house. She thought the sun should soon be rising, but the horizon wasn’t turning gray yet.

  A man in an apron approached. Cora could feel her eyes cross and wander left and then right. Her eyelids blinked slowly, and her voice was a muffled moan instead of the words she tried to say.

  “I’m sorry to say that my wife is roaring drunk. I’ll take her to our room immediately. Please have a box of food prepared for our man to bring up to us. We haven’t need of anything else from you tonight. We’ll leave in a couple of hours,” Wetheridge said.

  As they walked up the stairs with Cora suspended between them, it seemed as if it were in slow motion, each step jerking her from one side to the other. However, she felt tingling in her toes and lower legs. She hoped the effects of the drug were starting to wear off. As soon as they did, Cora had already determined a plan of attack.

  The men set her at the edge of the bed, and Wetheridge picked up her feet, setting them on the mattress, then stuffed a pillow under her head. “I’m sorry for this rough bit of courting. I’d really hoped to win you honestly, but well, you had ideas to the contrary.”

  Cora pushed her tongue around behind her teeth, feeling the rough edges. She thought her arms were stronger than moments ago, too. She was thankful Wetheridge didn’t know what he was doing when it came to drugging someone.

  “I’m really not a bad sort. Just desperate. I believe you’ll come to accept me. Maybe even like me. I had thought to marry you and solve the problems of my estate, but then when you wouldn’t have me, I thought Lady Atkins could step in.”

  Cora could tighten her arm and leg muscles, feeling the rope around her ankles. She could clench her glutes, but her stomach muscles were still very sluggish.

  Wetheridge arranged Cora’s dress to cover her legs. “She wants what you apparently had, though, so this is her solution. We all get what we want, I suppose. Well, except you.” Then with harshness in his voice, he added, “And His Grace.”

  He smoothed Cora’s hair away from her face. “I’m truly sorry. We aren’t starting off in the best way.”

  It took all her willpower not to slap his hand away. He needed to believe she was immobile until she could act with full force. She rolled her eyes aimlessly and made some moaning sounds as if she were trying to speak to keep up the ruse.

  The hairy man showed up again much later and set a box of food on a small table. He and Wetheridge sat down to eat. Cora tested her muscles every now and again, contracting and flexing what she could without drawing attention to herself to increase blood flow and hopefully speed her recovery.

  The men ate at their leisure, talking about Wetheridge’s estate.

  Her head was feeling clearer, and her body, stronger.

  “When will you transfer that piece of land in Blackwater?” the gruff man asked.

  “As soon as we return to Lifton, and Cora is safely on my estate.”

  Not going to happen.

  The man’s chair scraped across the floor. “I’ll get a couple of hours of sleep.”

  As soon as the door closed behind the man, Cora hissed, “Privy.” She held her eyelids as if she were sleepy. “I need the privy.” She smacked her lips together. “And water.” This wasn’t only a ploy. Her whole body craved a drink, and she needed the restroom.

  A sawhorse-like contraption sat in the corner of the room with a bedpan affixed. She thought one of the improvements Simon’s house would get when she became his duchess was a flushing toilet or two. May’s house had them. Though they were primitive, it was much preferred to this.

  Cora laughed at herself. Possibly the most stressful event in her life was about to happen, and she was thinking about toilets.

  Wetheridge untied the rope that had tied one of her ankles to the bed, and Cora stretched before she sat up. Slowly she placed her feet on the floor and stood, being sure to wobble. Wetheridge backed away and pointed at what passed for a necessary in this century.

  “May I have privacy?” she whispered.

  “We’ll soon be husband and wife, and your dress will cover you sufficiently.”

  Pig. “You have a rope tied to my leg. I can’t run. At least turn your back.” Cora continued to walk toward the bedpan.

  Wetheridge bowed and faced away from her.

  She grabbed the bedpan from the privy and swung it with all her might, hitting him in the head above his right ear. Her hope was that it was hard enough to drop him, but he only stumbled to the side and turned toward her. She was ready. The rope was slack, and she jumped into a kick to his gut. He bent over, and she hammered downward on his head. He rolled away from her and stood up, but Cora threw a right hook into his temple. Wetheridge crumpled to the floor.

  She had to work quickly before Wetheridge’s henchman returned. She dragged Wetheridge to the bed, pulling him up on the mattress. She used the rope from her leg to tie him to the headboard. She pulled his trousers off and tore his shirt from his back, leaving him in his drawe
rs, so he wouldn’t follow her if he escaped.

  Men were shouting out on the stairs. She didn’t’ think it possible, but adrenaline kicked up another notch. It sounded like bodies slamming against the walls. She readied herself for a fight and opened the door to see Simon pull the big man past him. The man fell down the stairs and crumpled at the bottom without moving, his leg obviously broken among other injuries.

  Simon bled from his nose and a cut near his eye. He stumbled up the final steps to Cora. She used Wetheridge’s shirt to wipe the blood away. Simon’s lips landed on hers, and his fingers tangled in her hair. Cora reciprocated, pushing all the concern and relief she felt into that kiss.

  “Excuse me.” Cora heard Aunt Nellie behind Simon. “Pardon me,” she repeated, squeezing past the onlookers who had gathered. “I wanted to drop by for this bit.” Aunt Nellie pressed her toe against the door, and it creaked back open. She peeked around the doorjamb and began to laugh. “Oh, yes. I’m so glad I did.” Nellie looked around. “You really knocked him out. And there’s the bedpan.” She laughed again. “I thought it was just a story, you know.” Mirth still filled her eyes, but she stopped laughing to say, “Officially, I’m here to be your chaperone. The story goes, I got tired at the ball and decided to start home. You, of course, offered to accompany me, Cora.” She patted Cora’s arm. “You’re such a sweet girl. Thank you.” The woman winked at her. “The constable is on his way.” Then Nellie peeked into the room and laughed out loud again.

  Simon’s lips rested on Cora’s ear. “Marry me. I was crazy with worry, imagining what harm could come to you.”

  “I have to tell you a truth before you ask me.”

  “I’ve already asked. I want to marry you as soon as possible, no matter what you have to tell me.”

  The constable arrived, and Simon related what he knew. It appeared to surprise the officer that Cora wanted to make a statement as well.

  Simon removed his coat and pulled it high around Cora’s shoulders, covering the back of her head. “I’m ready to leave if you are.”

  “I am.”

  “I’ll settle with the constable. Nellie, would you take Cora to my carriage?”

  “Of course,” Aunt Nellie said.

  As soon as Simon disappeared back into the room to see if the constable needed something more from them, Aunt Nellie said to Cora, “He’s saving your reputation, dear, but I can do better.” She pulled a small satchel from her pocket. “Allow me.” She pinched some dust and blew it into Cora’s face. “There. No one will even see you leave. It will wear off in a minute. Let’s hurry.”

  Nellie pushed through the small crowd, and Cora followed in her wake as they moved to the door. Nellie again blew a little dust into the room. “No one will remember seeing you enter tonight, now.” They moved outside and toward the carriage standing in the lane.

  “We’ll wait on the other side.” Nellie grabbed her hand and led her around the back.

  A few moments later, Simon arrived, and they all climbed into the carriage to join Simon’s mother.

  The group was silent for the duration of the ride back to Leavensfield. When the carriage stopped, Simon pegged his mother with a look. “You have much to say, Mother. I’ll wait just outside until that’s completed.”

  Nellie smiled up at Simon, then sweetly turned her attention to the women. The dowager duchess stared at Nellie in silence.

  “Oh, I’ll wait inside the house, I suppose. Toodle-oo.” Then she leaned over and whispered to Cora, “You can fill me in later.” Nellie left the carriage, shutting the door behind her, then opened it immediately. “I know—I’ll see to Lady Atkins. That will be fun!” Cora gave the woman a startled expression. “No need to worry. I’m good at this. And you’re welcome.” Then she left.

  The two women sat silently, Cora half-wondering if Nellie would pop back in.

  When the women decided they were truly alone, their attention returned to each other. The duchess started, “I’m sorry this happened to you, Miss Rey.”

  Cora continued to wait. When it looked like the woman was readying to leave, she said, “That’s not good enough. Sit down and try again.” Cora stretched her leg out to block the bottom of the door. “You suggested he take me.”

  Simon’s mother shifted back against the squabs, her mouth a tight line. “I didn’t know he was abducting you. I thought he meant to appeal to you and gain your agreement. Then yes, I wanted him to take you to Scotland with haste to remove you from Simon’s life.”

  Cora was surprised that the woman actually told her. She thought she’d have to confront her with what she’d overheard.

  The duchess continued. “I mean to save my son’s future and that of my grandchildren. Americans know little of the demands of a title and care even less than that. If peers don’t respect a man, he will be cut off from society as will his future generations.”

  Cora recognized passion in the woman’s voice and perhaps sincerity as well.

  “Not only him, but his sisters, too. What match could they hope to make with a brother who is not trusted? It’s a very high price for one family to pay so that you could marry him.”

  “I appreciate your candor.” Cora removed her foot from across the threshold, and Simon’s mother left.

  Simon was at the door. Cora’s heart fluttered, and a pit grew in her stomach. She couldn’t ignore his mother’s plea, but she also wanted to follow her heart. Simon had to know the truth before she could make a decision that would change the course of their lives and possibly history.

  When he stretched his hand toward her, she said, “I believe we had a meeting planned hours ago. Where shall I meet you?”

  “Oh, no. I don’t plan on letting you off my arm until we reach the wishing pond.”

  Chapter 25

  Simon

  Simon motioned to a bench along the side of the pond least visible to the house. It was sheltered on one side by a tall hedge. The other three sides were awash with the steel gray of morning. When he sat beside Cora, he swiveled to the side and put his hand to her cheek, guiding her face toward his. Their lips met, and he felt her lean into him as her hands reached around his neck, pulling him closer. A low moan escaped from him, and Cora’s lips pressed firmer to his.

  Every wish in his heart linked to her. When she broke the kiss, Simon pecked her lips, then leaned barely away. “Marry me. Let me love you every day.”

  Cora looked down and was silent. When she finally lifted her eyes to his, he saw unshed tears and a sad smile. His heart nearly stopped. Was she trying to find a way to reject his offer? He knew he wouldn’t give up. He’d continue to court her for as long as it took.

  “I have a big truth to tell you. This seems like a good time.” Cora swiped a tear from her cheek. “You don’t know me.” She stood, walking two steps away. When Simon made to stand, she pushed her hand toward him, and he stopped.

  He said, “I know you though it’s true that there’s so much more to learn.” He knew there would be new revelations every day as there had been just hours ago. He had noticed her composure at the inn, her careful selection of words she told the constable, her detailed accounting of the events, and her satisfaction when the constable remarked on the skillful way Wetheridge was trussed up to the bed. Though he’d thought to save her, pride filled him that she could save herself. His mind returned to Cora’s words. “I’m asking you to let me discover new things about you.”

  She walked back and sat beside him again. “I mean, I’m not from here. Or even from the America you know.”

  Simon felt his eyebrows pull together.

  “I’m from a different time—a time in the future.”

  Simon could see the resolve on her face, her eyes intently staring into his, almost daring him to believe. He couldn’t. He must have misunderstood or heard her wrong. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  Cora leaned closer and repeated. “I was born more than a hundred years in the future.”

  Now it was Simon’s tu
rn to move. His chest thudded, and his legs felt wooden. What was her purpose in telling this story? Was she a fraud? He couldn’t believe it of her, yet, she must wish him to think so. Why?

  “I grew up in Texas during the turn of the twenty-first century. We have carriages with something like the steam engines trains have instead of horses. We can talk to each other over wires, much like the telegraph, but we hear voices instead of static signals. Wait—you don’t have that yet, do you?” Cora didn’t wait for Simon to reply, but said, “Women are educated—well, everyone is. They vote, own property, and live independently without stigma. And medicine—the advances are incredible—completely wiping out some diseases, giving people back their sight or hearing.” She stood before him, her posture defeated. “I’ve hidden a very important part of me from you.”

  “Please stop.” Simon scooted as far away as the bench allowed and slumped with his hands on his knees. His heart was truly broken. “I hadn’t known that you were so strongly repulsed by my suit that you would make this fiction to scare me off—as if I were lucky to be rid of you.” He stood and bowed. “It’s been a long night and no doubt you will wish to rest. May I walk you to the house?”

  “I’m telling you the truth.” She boldly met his eyes.

  Simon schooled his face and said nothing.

  She fought back tears, obviously determined not to fall apart in front of him. “I’ll find my own way back.” Her voice broke slightly.

  “Good day.” Before he left, he turned back. “My offer stands,” he said with cold dignity. He would retain his honor even in this.

  Once inside, he called his family to his office. His mother and sisters, with rigid backs and stoic expressions, sat on the leather sofa and chairs.

  He stood from behind his desk and walked to the rug directly in front of the women. “Mother, Georgia, Virginia, I am in earnest for you to understand my position. At no time will I consult you on the event of my marriage.”