The Wayfarer's Daughter: A Time Travel Romance (The Wayfarer Series Book 2)

by Jennifer L. Hayes

  “Which mistake are you referring to exactly, dear? Was it the choice you made in leaving?”

  The question puzzled her. What did she mean?

  “I had to leave,” Eileen said defensively. “There was nothing for me here and my daughter, well, what kind of future would she have had?”

  “Ah, are you sure about that? If you are sure you did the right thing then why do you call it a mistake?”

  It was clear that Eileen had had to leave. Wasn’t it? Had she deluded herself into believing there was no other choice?

  Why then, after all these years, did it still torment her soul?

  Numerous attempts to find out what had become of Charles had failed. For some reason it felt like the universe blocked her from seeing the past. Perhaps because the past was also the future. Forever linked because of her ties here.

  “I honestly don’t know.” She felt the words fall from her lips.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere, dear,” Miss Crabtree said with a brilliant smile like she’d just uncovered a mystery. “It took a while but now you know the root of your problems.”

  What kind of nineteenth-century shrink was this old lady?

  “What do you think I should do about it?”

  “Well, that’s not for me to decide. I think I’ve done my job here.” She stretched as she stood, collecting her shawl from the back of her chair. “But perhaps you should ask yourself, what would Emma do?”

  Eileen laughed out loud. She was a wise old woman.

  “Oh, and dear, I’m not sure if this will help you in your contemplation, but the gentleman we were speaking of, from all accounts that I heard through proper gossip, called off his engagement when a certain young lady—no one knows who, mind—disappeared from his life. He vowed to remain a bachelor for the rest of his days.” She griped her chest for dramatic purposes. “You can imagine the devastation that caused to so many young ladies. A proper scandal it was. Everyone was desperate to know which foolish woman had refused him and broken his heart.” After a moment’s pause, she said, “Anyway, good night, dear, do sleep well.”

  The shock of Miss Crabtree’s story rocked Eileen to the core. Was that true or just Miss Crabtree fooling? Something told her that she was not the type of woman to tell tales.

  Foolish. That was what Eileen had been.

  How could she begin to rectify all that she’d destroyed?

  And for what?

  Her own pride.

  Chapter 38

  A Day to Remember

  Henry certainly had a spring in his step this morning. Finally, his life was shaping up to be more than he’d ever hoped for.

  Today was the day that he and Emma would clear her name and put all charges to rest. He doubted his father would give his blessing for him to marry Emma, but that was of no consequence to him now. As far as Henry cared his father could leave the estate and titles to Edmund.

  A small chuckle escaped his lips at the thought of his stepbrother taking on the responsibilities of an Earldom. There couldn’t be another soul less qualified for the task. That would be his father’s problem, however.

  He would pursue his dream in medicine and marry the woman he loved. This was what gave him that extra bound in his stride as he walked to the barber for a shave. He’d left London abruptly, without his valet, to be sure to carry out Emma’s plan in a timely manner. Soon he would have to get used to a life of dressing himself and going to a barber like normal gentlemen did.

  Why not start now?

  The sun was shining and Henry felt sure this was going to be a day to remember.

  “Mr. Bromsgrove.” The menace in the voice was impossible to ignore.

  Henry’s heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach.

  With a cringe on his face, he turned slowly to notice Mr. Pluckrose flanked by two rough-looking men.

  He did a quick mental summary of his options.

  Run.

  Use witty banter.

  Fight.

  Henry firmly gripped his cane and took off down the street.

  Sadly, his leg was less forgiving this time. He couldn’t carry on like this indefinitely.

  With a last-minute decision, he ran down an alleyway filled with hanging laundry.

  As soon as he’d made the decision he knew he was doomed. Like a labyrinth, he didn’t know which way to turn and as luck would have it he chose wrong.

  A dead end.

  Quite literally, it seemed.

  He had no choice but to spot the humor in this assertion.

  At least if he was going to die, he would die a happy man.

  A scattering of footsteps slowed behind him and he turned just as Mr. Pluckrose rounded the corner with one of his men. Clearly the other had taken another route in case Henry himself had made another choice.

  At least the odds were not dreadful.

  Henry knew how to fight but sadly not in the way he imagined these men did. He boxed like a gentleman, was a fair match at fencing and knew how to use a knife like a surgeon. Skills he was afraid would be of little use at the moment.

  Mr. Pluckrose grinned like a fox that had found its way into the hen house.

  With more confidence than he felt, Henry shrugged out of his greatcoat and jacket and took a fighter’s stance with nothing more than his cane.

  A barreling laugh escaped Mr. Pluckrose as he sneered at Henry.

  “You can’t be serious,” he said mockingly.

  “Are you not prepared to fight like a proper gentleman? Must you stack the odds in your favor with an extra man, or might you be honorable this once?”

  Henry was trying to use the man’s pride against him.

  “I come only to collect the debt owed to me, Mr. Bromsgrove, or should I call you Lord Drake?”

  Henry’s face was unflinching at the revelation of his true identity.

  “Your services were never provided, so I see not how I am indebted to you, sir,” Henry said in an authoritative tone.

  “That’s where you’re mistaken. The way I see it, you cost me a valuable asset, so the price has gone up considerably. One thousand pounds should do it.”

  “Why on earth would I give you that amount of money?”

  “If you don’t, I won’t be able to guarantee the safety of that handsome blonde you seem so fond of.” Mr. Pluckrose spat on the ground next to him. “In fact, I’m quite sure we’d have no trouble teaching her a lesson or two about manners.”

  “How dare you make threats against a lady!”

  “Just remember how easy it was for me to find you. Remember that. I have friends in all kinds of high places and don’t think that I couldn’t track you down.”

  The man’s threats hung in the air. He was a dangerous man, of that Henry was sure.

  From behind Mr. Pluckrose, the second friend emerged and now all three men watched Henry carefully.

  “Boys,” Mr. Pluckrose spoke to his friends, “perhaps we should give Lord Drake a taste of how we do business.”

  Both men stepped around Mr. Pluckrose and approached Henry.

  “Are you afraid to show me yourself then?” Henry hoped to bait the man.

  “Not foolish enough, sir, to get me own hands dirty.”

  When the first man charged, Henry was prepared and lifted his hand against the man’s jaw. The man fell to the floor with a thud. Before Henry could feel smug, the next man came at him, but his reflexes were not quite as fast and the man made contact with his cheek. Henry spun quickly and elbowed the man square in the face. He felt the pop of the man’s nose and knew it was broken.

  The first man staggered to his feet and lunged like a bull at red cloth. Henry shifted to the side and caught him in the shin with his cane, sending him falling to the ground.

  Feeling rather chuffed with himself he turned to grin at Mr. Pluckrose and was met with angry knuckles instead to the left side of his face. He staggered back and caught a blow to his ribs.

  A shrill whistle blew from somewhere in the distance
and his three aggressors took off running, but not before inflicting a devilish blow to his stomach.

  Henry braced himself against the wall and tried to catch his breath, the metallic taste of his own blood flooding his mouth.

  In the blurry distance, a man in an ill-fitting blue uniform came running towards him.

  “Are you all right, sir?” the constable asked.

  “I believe so,” Henry said, holding his side. A few broken ribs and a bloodied face—he supposed it could have been a lot worse.

  “I’m well impressed, sir, those other gents certainly didn’t flee without their fair share. Those were ghastly odds stacked against you, sir.”

  Yes, he had managed to get in a few good strikes. It felt jolly good. He’d never used his body like that against another man.

  He needed to get to Emma before Pluckrose got to her first. Who knew what evil he was truly capable of.

  His mind drifted to the young woman whose body had been found just outside of town, her jaw broken and bruised. Could Pluckrose and his men have been responsible for that? Or had Pluckrose already relocated to London by then?

  “Could you get me a hansom cab, sir? I need to be somewhere in a hurry.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want a doctor first to tend to you?”

  “There isn’t time, I’m afraid.”

  “Very well, let’s get to the street,” the constable said, taking Henry’s other arm and placing it around his own shoulders to help him walk.

  Pain seared through his body.

  What was Emma going to say when she saw him looking this dreadful?

  Chapter 39

  Flesh Wounds

  “Miss Crabtree, have you seen my mother this morning?” I asked when I came downstairs for breakfast.

  “No, dear, is she not in her room?” Miss Crabtree asked innocently.

  “She’s not.” Surely she would have left me a note if she’d planned to go out so early.

  “Perhaps she had some errands to take care of,” Miss Crabtree said while she applied a thick layer of butter on her toast.

  “At this hour? I can’t imagine what she’d be doing now.” I sat down next to Miss Crabtree at the dining table and immediately the footman poured me a cup of tea.

  “Thank you, Paul,” I said to him.

  My nerves were a little shattered. Today was the day Henry and I had planned to speak with his father. We needed to act quickly before his sister had time to invent some other plot against me. I’d charged my iPhone with the solar charger I’d brought so I was at one hundred percent.

  How was I going to convince the earl? What if he wouldn’t listen?

  Henry had already assured me that in the worst-case scenario we’d be on the next boat to America.

  Somehow that was not a comfort. That he was so committed to be with me was, but the idea of that kind of travel in this period did not appeal. I didn’t mind trans-Atlantic flights but boat rides? Not so much.

  That of course was a last resort.

  Our plan had to work.

  Suddenly the butler appeared at the door, looking a little concerned.

  Miss Crabtree could sense his presence and turned in his direction.

  “What is it, George?”

  It never ceased to amaze me how attuned she was despite her blindness. Perhaps she was that way because of it.

  “Madame, Lord Drake has arrived…” He seemed to hesitate.

  “Well, show him in, George, where have your manners run off to?”

  “Um, of course, only he’s in a bad way, miss.”

  I shot out of my chair, spilling my tea all over the table. The footman instantly snapped to attention and I ran to the front hall.

  Henry was standing, barely so, next to a constable.

  “Henry! What’s happened?”

  “Nothing a dram of whiskey and a needle and thread won’t remedy, my love. I’m sure it looks much worse than it is.”

  I doubted that very much. His left eye was nearly swollen shut. A one-inch gash on the side of his face was still bleeding, leaving his white shirt speckled with red. The knuckles on his right hand were torn and bloody and he gripped his left side with his arm as if he might fall over.

  “He was set upon by three men, miss. He’s lucky to be alive, I’d say,” the young constable said as he prepared to leave. “Let me know, Lord Drake, if I can be of service.”

  “Thank you for your help, my kind sir, the ladies will take care of me from here.”

  “You’re a lucky man,” the constable said and left through the front door, which George had kindly opened for him.

  “Let’s get you inside, come sit down in the parlor,” Miss Crabtree urged.

  “I wouldn’t want to get blood on the furniture. Perhaps you could direct me to the kitchen where I might find some clean water and a drink.”

  “Very well.” She turned toward the butler. “George?”

  George and I helped Henry down to the kitchens and out of his bloody shirt.

  Sadly, my own nursing skills left a little to be desired. Mostly I dabbed a clean cloth on his wounded face. I knew tea bags were a good thing to put on a swollen eye, but I also knew that such a thing had yet to be invented.

  “Annabel?” I called out to the young girl skulking in the corner, not sure if she should be helping. “Have you got any cheesecloth or a piece of muslin?”

  “I think I could find a piece of muslin. What would you like me to do, miss?”

  “Could you cut a few squares, four inches by four inches, put some tea in the middle and then tie them off into little bundles?”

  “Sure thing, miss, should I set a pot to boil?”

  “Yes, please,” I said and looked back to Henry, who was looking at me with his good eye.

  “Are you craving tea then?”

  “Don’t be silly, I’d much prefer a latte right now.” I could see his confusion, which made me smile. “The tea bags are for your swollen eye.”

  “Once I’m presentable we should set out for Crown and Anchor. I’d like to be there before my father,” Henry said.

  “I’m not sure you should be going anywhere looking like that,” I said. “Having your father see you like this will not likely help our cause.” I rinsed the cloth I was holding and once again dabbed at his wound. “You may need a few stitches here.”

  Henry seemed deep in thought, but I didn’t think it was about his wounds.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” I asked.

  “Mr. Pluckrose happened.”

  I didn’t register the name immediately.

  “The man I walloped with my cane a few days past in London,” Henry explained.

  “Oh… that guy,” I said. “How did he track you down here?”

  “I was wondering that myself. He also knew my real name, a fact I find rather disconcerting.”

  “So he was after revenge? Or was there some other motivation?”

  “One thousand pounds of motivation.”

  I shrugged. “Is that all?”

  Henry gasped.

  “Emma, one thousand pounds is a lot of money.”

  “Right, I wasn’t thinking.” I caught myself. Both the butler and Annabel were looking at me curiously.

  Of course in this period it was more like the equivalent of thirty thousand pounds.

  “Why does he want so much money from you?” I asked.

  “He believes that I cost him a valuable asset,” he said cryptically.

  “Oh, Mr. W…” Now it made sense. “You can’t honestly be expected to pay that, it’s not like it was our fault or anything.”

  “Perhaps from our perspective you are correct, but clearly Mr. Pluckrose does not share that opinion. I was lucky the constable came when he did, otherwise I may not have fared as well.”

  Poor Henry. He looked beaten to a pulp and yet he handled it so well. I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss all his aches and pains, but I knew that would have to wait.

  “Wait h
ere. I have a little something to help with the pain.”

  Henry gave me a dubious look, which I ignored. I raced back upstairs to my bag. Within minutes I was back by his side with two ibuprofen nestled in my palm. I tipped them into his hand without anyone noticing.

  “Swallow these,” I whispered, handing him a small glass of water. His one good eyebrow raised in question. “Don’t be a baby, just do it.”

  He rolled his eye at me and tipped the pills into his mouth and chased them down with water.

  “I’m not convinced your nursing methods are quite the standard, Miss Clayton,” he mocked.

  “Just call me Nurse Ratchet.”

  A bark of laughter escaped from Henry and put a smile on my face. The name sounded humorous to him, but he did not understand its full meaning. Nurse Ratchet was the mean one from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest who used to force the patients to take their meds.

  There was no way that Henry would look well enough to go with me to see his father for at least a week. No doubt that swollen eye would be black and blue by morning. We couldn’t afford to delay any longer. I would have to go on my own.

  Henry would never allow it, so I would need to wait until he lay down for a rest. For good measure I handed him a small blue pill as well.

  “This one too,” I whispered.

  He shot me a look, his dark brow arching severely.

  A little Ambien should do the trick. April, God love her, was always thinking ahead.

  Soon Isobel would put two and two together and realize I was staying with Miss Crabtree. If she told her father, I would be arrested. Why she hadn’t yet done it was beyond me but I wasn’t going to wait for that to happen.

  Time was not a luxury I could spare.

  “We’ll need to send word to my father, perhaps we can put off the meeting a few days.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I’ll get some paper.”

  When all was done Henry would have to forgive me this one small indiscretion.

  Chapter 40

  Connections