by Denise Daye
She stood at the corner, watching Lily enter the drug store. The store was at the east end of town, and they had walked for two hours to get there. A different shop had referred them to it, stating that the guy there made all his drugs himself. It was Emma’s last hope to get the final ingredient she needed. She stared at the store as if she was trying to hypnotize it. She would know in a matter of seconds if Lily had been successful or not, as Lily always smiled when she was successful—and there she was, exiting the pharmacy, giving Emma a cheerful smile. She couldn’t believe it! She had everything together now to make penicillin! Much to Emma and Lily’s surprise, Emma even found the energy to do a happy little jump.
“I can’t believe it. They had it!” Emma shouted, grabbing the bag filled with the white powder out of Lily’s hands.
“It was incredibly expensive. I do hope it is really that important.”
“It is, Lily. Believe me.” Emma felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in months. Now she had the means to stay alive longer by fighting the number one killer of the time—infection.
Chapter 11
“F ifty years ago, they would have called you a witch,” Lily said, watching Emma move between several different-shaped glasses. In a matter of weeks, their room had gone from being empty to being stuffed with primitive lab equipment.
“Fifty years from now, the man who invents this will make history with one of the most important discoveries for mankind,” Emma replied, holding a glass with moldy bread against the daylight shining in from the window. The mold had turned green, exactly what Emma needed. As crazy as it was, it was nothing more than mold on the dirty dishes of a researcher called Fleming that had led to the discovery of antibiotics in 1928.
Emma walked over to the windowsill to get the sterilized milk bottles that were filled with a simple solution of different salts and minerals. She had to separate the penicillin from the fungus today, so she would miss another day of work at the factory, but this was more important. Penicillin could save her from typhoid fever, syphilis, pneumonia, meningitis, common infections…the list was endless.
“If this can really cure all these diseases, then why do you not make plenty of it and then we can sell it?”
Emma had already thought of that herself. From cola to plastic, her options for inventing something would be endless.
“The number one rule of time travel, Lily. Remember,” Emma said as she mixed the green mold spores with the solution in one of the sterilized milk bottles.
“Do not change the course of history,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. By now, they were both totally comfortable talking about Emma’s time travel. They had spent many nights turning on Emma’s cell phone for just a few moments, looking at pictures. Emma allowed herself that luxury whenever she was about to give up. Whenever her hopes and dreams were crushed all over again by another day of living in poverty in Victorian London.
She repeated the step with all six of the milk bottles before turning to Lily.
“Don’t change the temperature of the room. Leave the window closed and don’t open any of those bottles for at least seven days,” she said in a serious tone.
“Seven days? Has your nose adjusted to that fat overseer of yours so well that you cannot smell the stench of this house any longer?” Lily protested.
And rightfully so. The stench of the house they were renting a room in was terrible. A matching companion to everything else disgusting going on in the neighborhood they lived in. The roads were always wet and filled with a mixture of mud and feces, and it smelled like urine no matter where she went. Thieves and drunk fools filled the streets night and day alike, and dirty children without shoes begged in front of the houses, including the one Emma and Lily lived in.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll trade another dress today. We are out of money again anyway. I’ll grab a cheap perfume so we will survive the seven days with a closed window without getting nauseous.”
That seemed to persuade Lily a bit. Emma went to the dresser and grabbed the blue dress she’d worn at William’s hunting party. She was kind of glad to see that one go. Emma put it in a sack used for carrying potatoes so nobody would see the dress and follow her to rob her in some shady alley. All of this was part of her reality now.
“Do not forget to get some more bread, too. Your penicillin or whatever you call it is eating all of ours.”
Emma headed out to the pawnshop a few blocks down the street. It was a terrible rip-off place, but the owner was one of the very few to never ask where the items people brought to his shop came from. Emma would have to come up with a different way of making money soon, as there were only two items left to trade after this fine blue dress was gone. One was a hat, and the other one…the nightgown she had worn all those months ago when she and John made love. Emma was holding on to it for as long as she could. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep, she would walk over to the dresser and hold that nightgown close to her heart, breathing in John’s smell, which still lingered on it like a distant memory.
Emma was torn out of her bittersweet daydreams by a dirty hand slamming a few coins onto the counter in front of her. The pawnshop’s owner was a skinny, bald man who reminded Emma of a reptile. His shop was dark and stuffed with dusty items, a fitting home for a slimy snake, Lily always said.
“He ye go, lass.” He grinned, revealing rotten teeth. Emma wanted to take the money, but he didn’t remove his hand, trapping the coins underneath it. His breath was horrendous as he leaned in closer to add, “Ye no, a pretty lass lek you do no hav to be walkin’ ve streets all alone.”
Emma reached in her skirt’s pocket, slowly pulling out a knife. “I’m not alone. My little friend here keeps me company wherever I go,” she threatened him in a low voice.
He let go of the coins and folded the dress Emma had just traded as though he’d never said a thing. “Just sein, lass.”
“Me too,” she replied, taking the coins. The money the snake paid this time was not even a tenth of what he should have paid for the dress, but she had no choice but to take whatever he offered. Emma kept the knife out all the way to the pawn shop’s door, holding it like a shield. Finally out, she slammed the door behind herself, cursing loudly.
“I assume you are as good with a knife as you are with a pistol,” a familiar voice said.
Emma felt an icy shiver run down her spine. She recognized this voice immediately. There was only one person with such a deep and manly voice, and under different circumstances, she would have called it sexy. She didn’t want to believe it, but there he was. Lord William Blackwell, in all his handsome but hideously arrogant glory. Emma had been preparing for this moment for months, but her body still did its own thing, dropping her coins onto the street in shock the moment she set eyes on him. Beggars rushed to Emma’s feet, snatching the coins up like fish launching at little breadcrumbs. She just stood there, watching her meal for the months ahead disappear along with the people who stole it. Let them have it, she thought. She wouldn’t give William the pleasure of seeing her on her knees, fighting over pennies.
“There is only one way to find out,” Emma now commented in that same threatening voice.
William laughed. He was standing in front of a fancy carriage with a big, golden “B” on the side of it. A man stood right next to the carriage, making it clear that he belonged to William.
“There is no need for that, Emma. I have no desire to hurt you. If that was my intention, I would not be standing here in front of you.”
He was right—this was not what revenge would look like. Emma put the knife away.
“It is good to see that poverty did not break your spirit. Not yet, at least.”
Emma took a few steps closer to him. “What do you want, William?” She crossed her arms across her chest.
“To talk. I just want to talk to you.” He opened the door to his carriage. Emma didn’t move.
“I see you brought your dog,” she said in a condescending tone, nodding in the directio
n of the man who was standing close to the carriage. He must have been in his sixties, and although not dressed poorly, he was clearly not part of society.
“Quite the opposite. He brought me,” William said calmly. “But have it your way. You will not be needed any longer, Gustav,” William told Gustav, who turned around and disappeared down a side street like a ghost who had never been there at all. William turned back to Emma. “Just you and me now. See?”
“We can talk here.”
William tilted his head to the side. “If you want to, but it might attract some attention when we get to the interesting parts, such as the fake robbery.” He grinned, knowing he had her.
Although she hated it, William held all the cards. She had no choice but to go with him and see what he had to say. Causing a scene right here wouldn’t help anybody, especially considering the circumstances.
“Well?” William stretched out his hand to offer to help her into the carriage. Emma walked straight by him, getting into the carriage without saying a word or taking his hand. William followed her with his big, smug grin. The carriage took off.
William opened a trunk that was on the floor and pulled out a dress. He placed it next to Emma.
“You might want to put that on before we get to my townhouse,” he said, analyzing her from head to toe.
“I’m not planning on going to your townhouse with you. Say what you have to say, and I will be on my way again.”
“Alright. Then let us start with the robbery you staged. Oh please do tell me about that…”
Emma didn’t even try to think of an excuse. There was no use creating more fairytales. William had probably already gathered evidence he could use against her at any time.
She sighed. “What do you want to know?”
“Why you did it. The how is not needed. I already figured that part out.”
Emma looked straight at him now. “Money.”
“What for?” This question surprised Emma. William was smarter than she thought. He seemed to know her well enough to realize that she didn’t care about money just in itself.
“Research.”
“Research?” William drew his brows together in confusion.
Like always, Emma followed the most crucial rule of lying: stay as close to the truth as possible to make it believable. “Yes. I didn’t plan to end up in England. In order for me to resolve the issue that got me here in the first place, I needed to figure out a way how to do that. For that, I needed time and access to educational facilities. Something the jobs in the slums do not come with.”
William looked deep into her eyes, as if he could find the truth in them. “To be clear, you acquired the help of a gambler and a wagtail to stage a robbery to swindle me into marrying you, so you could have the money and freedom you needed to leave me whenever you found a way back home?”
Emma hadn’t known that Skip was a gambler, but it didn’t matter at this point. It sounded pretty bad when he said it like that. Emma felt ashamed. Sure, William was a douche, but she was better than that. The whole situation was a shit show, and the worst part about it was the fact that John had been dragged into it. Emma looked down at the floor. It was evident that William wouldn’t let her get away with this charade. Maybe she could beg him to leave Lily and Skip out of it. Tell him it was all her idea, and they had no idea what they were getting into. It really was all her fault anyway, so she should take the fall alone.
Suddenly, William burst out in uproarious laughter. Emma stared at him in disbelief. Had he gone mad?
“Marvelous! Emma, you are truly amazing!” William wheezed between heaving breaths. He had tears in his eyes from laughing.
“Wait…what?” She was totally lost.
“I have never met a woman like you. Truth is, I have never met anybody like you. The craziest part about all of this is that it would have worked if that filthy thief had not come forward to tell Gustav about you. You would have gotten away with it. Fooled me into marrying you. Played me like a fiddle.” William’s laughter slowly died down, but he was still smiling.
Emma just stared at him, unable to think of anything to say to that.
“Nobody has ever managed to do that, Emma. You truly are my equal.”
Emma was far from feeling flattered. She was too busy trying to figure out what William could possibly want from her. So far, it didn’t sound like he would have her thrown in jail, so what was he planning?
“I am afraid I don’t understand what’s going on,” Emma stated carefully.
William became serious. “You see, Emma, the thing is that you set out to make me marry you. And I intend to do so.”
Wait…what? Had she heard that right? After everything that had happened, William still wanted to marry her? Why?
“You must be joking.”
“I am dead serious. I never thought I would find my equal, a partner who would challenge me, interest me, attract me…” William now threw a more sensual look at her. “But I guess I did not find you. You found me.”
As twisted as this all was, Emma started to see the logic behind William's words. He wasn’t in love with her. He didn’t want her because of who she was. To William, she was nothing more than the biggest challenge of his life. He needed to possess her so she would entertain him like a clown.
She would rather live a life of poverty than be his personal comedian. Besides, she could never do this to John.
“I can’t marry you, William. I’m sorry. And before you start blackmailing me, just take a look at me. Do I look like I have anything left to lose?” Emma laughed sarcastically. She must have looked awful, dressed in rags, unwashed, and full of burn marks on her arms.
A shimmer of anger flared up in his eyes. “I was afraid you would say that. This has to do with that fool, Evergreen, doesn’t it?”
Emma stopped laughing. William took this as a confession.
“Bloody hell, do not be so absurd. Evergreen is no match for you. I am surprised he even looked for you for as long as he did, but then, he also doesn’t know what a cunning woman he brought into his house. Thought he was protecting your honor when, in reality, he was the one who needed protection.” William raised a confident brow at her, his fingers steepled in front of him.
Emma knew exactly what he was implying here.
“So, you didn’t tell him anything?” she asked, just to confirm his intentions.
“And drag him and his family through the same misery they already had to endure all those years ago? Poor Evergreen would have to join the military for life to restore his family’s name after your scandal came to light. An affair with an impersonator…way worse than the rumors brokenhearted Elise spread back then.”
Finally. William had finally gotten to the point. If Emma didn't agree to marry him, he would tell John all about Emma and expose her in public, causing a scandal for the Evergreens. William knew what he was doing.
“A marriage between the two of us will not make him happy, of course, but with his name still spotless, he would get over it at some point. Still better than not getting the girl and seeing his family in ruin. A lesser-evil situation of some sort. But, of course, it is all up to you, dear Emma.” William knocked against the ceiling. The carriage stopped. “You can leave now or put on that dress and come with me to announce our engagement to my family and society.”
Emma glared at him silently. She felt her heart filling with anger like never before. But then, if she was to hate someone, it should be herself. She was the one who had started all of this, challenged William into marrying her. This was simply the end result of her own actions. Emma’s ability to find a positive in even the worst circumstances seemed to have gone on vacation, as there was nothing but sadness and anger in her heart right now. Emma didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. She felt tears brewing but swallowed them down. She wouldn’t give William the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
He opened the door as is if to say, “Here you go,” but Emma stayed.
“That is
what I thought. Good girl.” He closed the door again. “Now, please put on that dress and look happy. We do not want anybody to think I just picked you up in one of London’s worst parts of town looking like a factory girl.”
Chapter 12
J ohn read the line again and again and again. His mother had brought him the newspaper today, something which was odd in itself. Now he knew why. He reread the sentence once more just to make sure. His mother and sister were standing behind him.
“John…I am so sorry…” his mother said in a tone so soft it was nearly a whisper.
John put the newspaper down and got up. “About what?” he said with a fake smile. He kissed his mother on her cheek. “There is nothing to worry about, Mother.”
John walked out of the breakfast room with fast, determined steps. He caught his mother and sister exchanging concerned looks as he went by them. As blind as they had been about his feelings for Emma before, hearing John shout that night, begging Emma to open her door, had made it very clear to them both, and the rest of the house, that he loved her.