A Fall in Time (Train Through Time Series Book 5)

by Bess McBride

  Matthew turned and looked up into Sara’s face. His blue eyes seemed to look directly into her soul, and she struggled for air.

  “I could not abandon you,” he said simply.

  “I would have been fine on my own. I would have taken a walk or something,” Sara added.

  “No, no, you cannot walk unattended, Sara,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Oh, please, Matthew! In your quiet neighborhood? Nothing is going to happen to me there. It’s not like I’m walking around here in downtown Seattle. I would be lost down here. I already am!”

  He opened his mouth to speak and then pressed his lips together.

  “What aren’t you saying, Matthew?” Sara asked.

  Matthew seemed to swallow hard.

  “I worry that you will disappear, Sara,” he said.

  Sara looked down into his sincere eyes, a shadow of concern dulling their brightness.

  “Oh, Matthew,” she sighed, allowing her face to show the love she felt. For all she knew, she might disappear the next day, thrown back into her own time. There were no guarantees.

  “Why do you worry about me so much?” she asked quietly.

  “I do not know,” he said, “but I do. There is something about you that compels me to worry, to protect you, to look after you as a father might a child. There is a naïveté about you that seems particularly poignant.”

  “As a father might a child?” she choked out.

  He blinked. “Did I say something to offend you?”

  “So, you feel paternally toward me?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” Sara said.

  “I am trying to give you the answer you want,” he stated with a lift of one eyebrow.

  “Well, I would have much preferred knight in shining armor and a damsel in distress,” she sputtered. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a father.”

  Matthew looked over his shoulder. Emily had stepped inside for a moment. He leaned into the carriage and took one of her hands in his.

  “You are angry, Sara. What have I said? Do you wish me to be your knight in shining armor?”

  “Well, that would be a darn sight better than my father. I really don’t see you as my father,” she muttered. Against her will, she gripped his hand. He responded.

  “Then a knight in shining armor it shall be,” he said with a grin. “But with the caveat that someday soon, you must tell me of your distress, fair damsel, else I will not know how to help you.”

  He pressed her hand to his lips, and her heart thudded. Over his shoulder, she saw Emily returning, and she pulled her hand from his.

  “I think you should drop me off and take a drive with Emily,” Sara said, though that was the last thing she wanted, ever.

  “Yes, I think you must be right, Sara,” he said with a sigh. “Will you be there when I return?”

  “I will be there,” Sara said.

  They dropped her off in front of Matthew’s house, and Matthew went on with Emily. Sara didn’t go straight into the house but watched the carriage drive away.

  Matthew had made it clear that if Emily wanted to proceed with the engagement, he was committed to following through. Within the next few hours, on Matthew’s return, Sara would know if the engagement was on.

  She wished at the moment that she could disappear. She turned and looked toward the house. If she went inside, Mrs. Webster would probably ask questions about Matthew’s whereabouts, and Sara didn’t feel up to answering them. She decided on a walk.

  She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and headed away from the house, momentarily expecting someone to call out to her. When no one did, she relaxed and took in the sights as she walked. The view of the bay was spectacular, bustling with the tall ships she had seen the day before, and with steam ships, schooners and little boats she couldn’t even name.

  Queen Anne Hill wasn’t as thickly developed as she had imagined it would be, given its famous name. Instead of numerous mansions fronting tree-lined and well-paved roads with concrete sidewalks, the unpaved dirt road she followed held only one or two of the immense and decorative houses per block. The landscape was barren of the green trees she thought Seattle was known for, no doubt timbered for both fuel and construction. Sadly, the deforestation was what allowed her to see the bay.

  When the road curved to the right, Sara followed it to the end, where it then curved to the left as it resumed its downward descent. She hoped she wasn’t getting herself lost. She turned to look back up the hill to spot the Webster house but couldn’t see it. She shrugged, promising herself that she would retrace her steps, and she resumed her trek.

  At some point, Sara noted that the hem of her skirts had absorbed a great deal of the loose dirt that passed for a road. With a frown, she lifted her skirts, wondering if she should turn back. Maybe a walk hadn’t been such a good idea. The Queen Anne neighborhood felt a little more rugged and remote than she had imagined when she saw it from the carriage.

  Still, what would she do at the house? Stare at the walls and wait for Matthew to return with news she didn’t want to hear? Have tea with Mrs. Webster and dance around questions about her origins? None of those appealed to her.

  Sara walked on, heading down the hill, admiring the broad vista of the bay. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through her foot as she stepped into a rut. With a cry, she fell forward into the road. She rolled to her side to grab her burning ankle through the mass of skirts. She must have twisted it—at least, that’s all she hoped she had done. The pain was overwhelming.

  Cursing and fighting back tears, Sara struggled to sit up, nursing her ankle as she did so. Dirt embedded itself in her blouse and skirt. Her hat had fallen off, and her shawl lay on the ground. She tried to push herself to a standing position, but caught by her skirt and petticoats, she fell over again.

  She looked up at her unfamiliar surroundings. The nearest house was a block away, too far for her even to shout. The hill now seemed more isolated than ever. No pedestrians walked the roads, no carriages rolled by.

  A sudden sense of panic overtook her, robbing her of air. How was she supposed to get back? She didn’t really even know where she was. Pain and shortness of breath made her dizzy, but she tried to push herself up again. She couldn’t just sit in the road. Her ankle had begun to throb unbearably.

  The sound of rumbling wheels and jingling of a harness caught her attention. A carriage! Matthew? She twisted at the waist and looked behind her.

  The carriage slowed, then stopped. A face peered out of the window, but it wasn’t Matthew.

  “Miss! Are you injured?” the man asked. The carriage door flew open, and a tall, slender man jumped down.

  “Hold the horses, John,” he said as he moved to her side. Well dressed, he wore a black derby and dark-gray overcoat. A thick gray mustache covered his mouth.

  He came down on one knee in front of her. She noted irrelevantly that his shoes were immaculately shined.

  “I think I twisted my ankle,” she said, panting with pain. “I was out walking.”

  He looked down at the ankle she held but did not attempt to touch her.

  “We must get you to a doctor. Do you have a physician?” His voice held a pleasant rumble.

  Sara’s mother had taught her never to accept rides from strangers, and since they couldn’t afford a car, Sara had been offered rides more than she cared to remember. But through all four seasons of every year, she had marched doggedly on through the streets of Spokane, to school, to her part-time job, and home.

  “If you could just drop me at the Webster house?” she said hoarsely. “Do you know where that is?”

  He shook his head. “No, I am afraid I do not know that house. I was just visiting someone on business. Is the Webster house on this street?” He turned and scanned the houses.

  “No, it’s further up the hill,” she said. The throbbing in her ankle intensified. “I’m not sure what street it’s on. I’ve been walking fo
r a while.”

  “I cannot believe you were out walking alone,” he said. “We can either search for your house, or I can take you to my physician. I think the latter is the wisest course.”

  Sara had no idea how she was supposed to pay for a doctor. She thought the first idea was best.

  “Do you mind trying to find the house? I’m staying with the Websters, and I really don’t have any way to pay for a doctor.”

  “I am certainly willing to try, but please do not worry about the doctor’s fees. That can all be taken care of. Can you stand?”

  “I’ve been trying, but I keep falling over these skirts,” she said.

  “Let me help,” he said. He held out his hands, and Sara slipped hers into his. Soft and gentle—she assumed he didn’t do manual labor. He pulled, and she tried to push herself to a standing position, but another searing pain shot through her ankle, and she cried out.

  “Wait! Wait!” she said breathlessly.

  “Oh, my poor girl,” he said. “Come, let me lift you.” He ran his arm around her back and pulled her up to her feet...or to one foot. Sara balanced on the injured foot.

  He supported her while she hopped over to the carriage. With a great deal of awkwardness, he half pushed her into the carriage, and she slumped against the seat, fighting a wave of dizziness.

  “Let me get your hat and shawl,” he said. He retrieved her things and disappeared from sight. Sara heard him talking to the driver but couldn’t make out the words. He climbed in, laid her things on the bench beside her and sat down on the opposite bench.

  With her leg down, the pulsating pain intensified, and Sara felt as if she was on the verge of passing out. She licked her dry lips.

  “My name is Joseph Conrad,” he said.

  “I feel awful,” she whispered. The coach moved forward, and darkness descended.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Matthew alighted from the carriage and waved to Emily’s driver. They had deposited Emily at her house, and the driver had returned Matthew to his.

  He entered the house and paused to listen for the sound of voices. He heard his father and mother in the drawing room, no doubt having tea, given the hour.

  He drew in a deep breath, both anxious to see Sara and dreading it. He had a feeling she would be able to read his face.

  Driving down by Lake Union, he and Emily had talked at length without the rancor that had accompanied their conversation yesterday.

  “Have you made a decision yet, Emily?” he had asked without preamble.

  “I did,” she replied. “I would be pleased to marry you, Matthew. I apologize for my initial rejection. The question came as such a surprise to me.”

  Matthew’s heart dropped, but he masked his face.

  “I am so pleased,” he said. “You were right. We should do well together.”

  “Yes, I think so,” she said with a smile. “You and I have known each other far too long to imagine ourselves in love now. I love you. I am certain of it. Having known you so long, how could I not?”

  “How could you not?” he echoed.

  “And I think that you love me. You did ask me to marry you.”

  Matthew nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  “Then there is no reason we should not marry.”

  “None,” Matthew agreed. His thoughts were elsewhere though, on the moment when he would tell Sara that he was in fact going to marry Emily after all.

  “Will you tell Miss Reed that we are to be married?”

  Matthew, still lost in thought, blinked. “Miss Reed? Why would you ask that?”

  Emily shrugged. “Well, she will have to find other arrangements, won’t she?”

  Matthew cocked his head.

  “Because I am affianced? Why should that affect her?”

  “Well, it isn’t quite proper for her to stay at your house if you are engaged, Matthew.”

  Matthew stared at Emily.

  “I do not intend to throw her from the house,” he said firmly.

  “But people will talk, Matthew. You know how they are.”

  “I do not care,” he said. “Let them talk.”

  “I do not want to be the subject of gossip, Matthew!”

  “I understand that, Emily. Neither do I, but I hardly think that having a guest staying in my home, in my mother’s and father’s home, would be a source for gossip.”

  “I believe Mrs. Feeney would disagree with you.”

  Matthew blinked. “Mrs. Feeney?”

  “Yes, Matthew, Mrs. Feeney. You probably did not know, but she is a childhood friend of my mother’s. She came to the house yesterday for tea and told us some outlandish story concerning a woman from Spokane who stole her clothing from a train station in Kalispell, Montana, and who was arrested and jailed for such.”

  Matthew drew in a sharp breath.

  “I said nothing, but I suspected that was Miss Reed. Mrs. Feeney noted that a gentleman from Seattle, a Mr. Matthew Webster, had made reparations on the woman’s behalf. You! Why would you do such thing? Why would you involve yourself in the crime of a strange woman?”

  “You do not understand the entirety of the matter, Emily,” he said harshly.

  “Then enlighten me. We used to tell each other everything! Tell me why you would do such a thing?”

  “I cannot explain it. She needed help,” he said simply.

  “But she is a criminal!” Emily cried.

  “Emily, please. Do not speak of Miss Reed in that way. I will not stand for it! There are things that you do not understand.”

  “Then explain them to me, Matthew! Explain them to me!”

  “I cannot!”

  Emily’s red cheeks paled, and she stared at him.

  “Are you choosing Miss Reed over me, Matthew?” she whispered.

  “No, of course not,” he ground out. “Do not be silly. Do not concern yourself with her or with Mrs. Feeney’s gossip.”

  “But Mrs. Feeney is coming tonight, Matthew. Mr. and Mrs. Feeney are coming to the dinner and dance tonight.”

  Matthew drew in a sharp breath and shook his head.

  “Then I am afraid it would not be in Miss Reed’s best interests to attend,” he said flatly.

  “No, I do not think she should,” Emily said.

  “And I shall not attend either.”

  “Matthew!” Emily remonstrated. “Of course you must attend! Do you not want to announce our engagement? Miss Reed is fully capable of staying home alone. That is, if you do not worry about your silver.”

  At her words, Matthew leaned out and rapped on the carriage door. “Please take Miss Williams home, Samuel!” he barked. He pulled his head back in and glared at Emily.

  “I do not wish to announce our engagement tonight, Emily, and I will not be able to attend. You and I both have some thinking to do about whether we should ‘do well together.’ I understand that you are concerned about gossip, about Mrs. Feeney, but your comments are uncharitable. Sara is in my care. She is under my protection, and I will not have you disparage her further.”

  Emily’s eyes flashed, and she crossed her arms over her stomach.

  “So, it is Sara now, is it? Yes, you are right, Matthew. We do have some thinking to do. I do not think I even know you right now, and I have no idea what hold this woman has over you. You behave as if you are besotted with her, but that seems unlikely, given that you only recently met her. Do not take your charge of knight in shining armor too seriously, Matthew. I know you, and I am willing to marry you as you are. I am not, however, willing to marry a man who picks up strays and brings them home.”

  Now, only a short while later, Matthew rested his hand on the drawing room door. He had no idea whether he was engaged to be married or not. And the news that Mrs. Feeney continued to spread gossip was disturbing.

  He stepped in and stopped short, expecting to see Sara.

  “Where is Sara?” he asked.

  “I thought she was with you,” his mother said with surprise.

  Matthe
w’s heart began to race.

  “Could she be resting?” his father asked.

  His mother rose. “I will go find out.”

  Matthew put up a hand. “No, I will go.” He ignored her protest and hurried out the door, taking the stairs two at a time.

  The word “disappear” played over and over in his mind. Surely, she had not disappeared. Surely not! Not after she had promised.

  He knocked on her door.

  “Sara!” he called. “Sara! Are you in there?”

  If she was resting, he would feel very foolish, but he simply could not wait to find out. He turned to see that his mother had arrived at his elbow.

  “Stop shouting, Matthew,” she whispered. “The servants will hear you, and if Sara is sleeping, she will not welcome such a commotion. What has come over you?”

  Ignoring his mother, he banged on the door before reaching for the knob.

  “Matthew!” she remonstrated. “Let me.” She opened the door and peeked in.

  “Sara, my dear?” she whispered. “Are you sleeping?”

  Matthew pushed the door wide and looked over her shoulder. The room was empty. His mother stepped in and looked into the bathroom. She returned to the door with a shake of her head.

  “She is not here. Where could she have gone? I thought she was with you and Emily.”

  “We dropped her off at the door, and then Emily and I took a drive. I needed to talk to Emily to discover her intentions.”

  “Her intentions? Do you mean regarding the proposal?”

  His mother hurried after him as he retreated down the hall and ran down the stairs.

  “Perhaps Sara is in the garden?” his mother said.

  “Yes, the proposal,” he threw over his shoulder. He ran out the back door and stood on the porch.

  “Sara!” he called.

  “Matthew! Do not stand out here and shout for her like a banshee. You will frighten her.”

  He could not deny the feeling of dread that seized his heart. Sara had disappeared. She had vanished as she had done before.

  He shook his head.

  “No, Mother. She is gone. She has disappeared. She did this once before, and I did not know what happened to her. She promised me she would not do this again!”