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

by Jennifer L. Hayes

  “But that just doesn’t make any sense. You never come back…” As I said the words, realization struck me hard and punishing. “You…don’t…leave?”

  My mother’s eyes met mine and we both hung in that moment. Her eyes looked tired.

  “It doesn’t mean I die, there could be another explanation,” she offered hopefully, but I knew that was just for my benefit. “Perhaps we stay here together.”

  “I don’t think I could lose you again,” I said quite matter-of-factly, refusing to allow that thought to even percolate.

  I’d had enough loss for one day, thank you very much.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

  At this point Annabel materialized with a large pot of tea and pound cake.

  “Oh, thank you, dear,” Miss Crabtree chirped to Annabel.

  Once Annabel had cleared the room, Miss Crabtree looked towards me.

  “Miss Emma, do tell us what has brought you back here. Last we spoke you were looking to get home and now you’ve arrived in a somewhat altered state, I find.” Her sightless eyes rested on my belly. I knew that I did not yet look pregnant but could she hear the tiny heartbeat?

  Both my mother and I looked to each other in surprise.

  “Do tell us your news,” Miss Crabtree urged.

  Where did I even begin?

  “A lot has happened since I saw you last.” I hesitated.

  “I need to ask you,” my mother interrupted me. “What is your connection to Lady Isobel, the Earl of Pembroke’s daughter?” Concern laced her voice.

  “How do you know about her?” Her sudden question took my own thoughts way off track.

  Then my mother launched into her story and described Isobel’s character to a t. She explained finding the journal and how it had led her to Miss Crabtree, but she was still concerned about Isobel’s initial slip-up in calling her Emma.

  “Lady Isobel is no lady,” I said with disdain. My mother and Miss Crabtree nodded agreement. “Mom, she tried to ruin me. I’m not entirely sure why, but she and this William White tried to kill her brother Henry, but—”

  “Did you say William White?” my mother interrupted again.

  “Yes, he and Isobel were an item, so I believe they planned the whole thing together.”

  “Isobel’s had correspondence from a man by that name,” my mother said.

  “I need to find him, everything depends on it,” I said with urgency.

  “I’ve got all his letters and there’s a return address in London.”

  I jumped up and kissed my mom.

  “What is it, dear?” Miss Crabtree piped in. “What are you not telling us?”

  So I told them both about Isobel’s deceit, Mr. Marc Jacob, the near rape and the fire that had killed him. And how I’d narrowly got away and gone back to the twenty-first century.

  “Only now it seems the earl believes that I was responsible for Henry’s shooting and Mr. Jacob’s death.” It still sounded ridiculous that he could draw such a conclusion.

  “Emma, if you got away, why on earth did you come back?” my mother asked.

  I had neglected to tell them both the most important part of the story.

  “Well, you see, there is this man, his name is Henry…” I could see my mom raising her eyebrows. Miss Crabtree leaned in, giving her full attention. “I love him. We love each other and I’m pregnant with his child.”

  Why beat around the bush?

  Miss Crabtree gave me a knowing look, like she’d known exactly what I was going to tell her before I even said the words. My mom on the other hand didn’t say anything for a moment.

  Her silence stretched into the uncomfortable spectrum.

  “That’s some big news, dear,” Miss Crabtree offered kindly.

  “This Henry, is that Isobel’s brother? The one she tried to kill? Is that the man whose child you carry?” my mother asked, concern etched on her face.

  “The very same.” My teeth bit down on my lower lip. “I know it’s a terrible mess.”

  Terrible doesn’t even begin to describe it, really.

  “And do you plan to keep the child?” Her expression was suddenly serious.

  “I do.” Of course, why wouldn’t I?

  Well, it had never occurred to me not to.

  “Does Henry know about the child?”

  “Mom, what’s with the Spanish inquisition?”

  “Darling, you are in love with the heir to an earldom and are having his bastard child. What do you think that makes you? Things are not the same now as they are in the future. Having children out of wedlock is a serious matter. The woman is usually cast out of society and the child is taken from her without the protection of a man. Does he plan to marry you?”

  Now I felt truly ill once again. What did that make me?

  “Not exactly,” I managed to mutter under her scrutiny.

  My mom narrowed her eyes, looking for a proper answer, I supposed.

  “It’s sort of a long story, Mom. He would if he could, but he is being forced to marry someone else.”

  Even to my own ears it sounded dreadful.

  “I see,” she said, her voice sounding clipped and disapproving.

  “Anyone for more cake?” Miss Crabtree offered, sensing the tension in the room.

  Well, so much for a happy family reunion.

  Chapter 29

  A Wounded Man

  Henry stood outside Miss Crabtree’s townhouse and watched it from across the street. Sheltered as he was from the rain under the large oak, he did look a dreadful sight, he was sure. Wet to the gills from walking the streets of Oxwich without a rain napper.

  This was the only place he imagined that Emma could have gone.

  The apothecary had reluctantly given out the address once Henry made the transaction worth his while financially. Initially, his thought had been to bang down the door and demand that she come with him. That only he could keep her safe.

  Now, with the advantage of a couple hours’ reflection, he knew that his intentions were motivated purely by his selfish desire to have her to himself, no matter the cost.

  But what would the cost be to her?

  Prison. Heartbreak.

  Emma’s parting words drifted through his mind—until such time as it would be possible. Those were her wishes and he needed to respect that.

  The last thing he wanted was for his love to cause her more grief.

  Still, he glanced up at the house and longed to have even a glimpse of her through the window. To see her golden hair falling down past her shoulders and her bright smile lighting up her hazel eyes. He hated to be the cause of her distress.

  A carriage drove past, the occupants giving Henry a severe look.

  Why would a gentleman be standing on a street corner? the look seemed to say. What kind of mischief was he plotting?

  Someone would undoubtedly recognize him and he needed to mind himself better.

  The idea of leaving his careful perch was particularly wretched.

  He looked up into the tree and noticed a red kite. He’d not seen one of those beautiful birds since he was a boy. As far as he knew they were now extinct, yet here one sat, shielded from the rain, looking as out of place as he did.

  The majestic bird gave him a sideways glance, looking down upon him like he was a fool.

  He definitely was, he thought, in most earnest agreement with his feathered friend’s assessment.

  To further relay his distaste, the creature released his bowels on Henry’s favorite top hat.

  Perhaps he was deserving of it.

  Some would call it a sign of good fortune, but Henry didn’t believe in such superstitions. It was simply another mess to clean up.

  Finally, he needed to move on before he was called out as a Peeping Tom. All this loitering about was bound to bring on some unwanted attention.

  Pining over Emma would accomplish nothing other than to torment his broken heart.

  Action needed to be taken. He was determin
ed to find this William White and clear Emma’s name. There were men who could be called upon to achieve such a task, he was sure of it.

  With the flick of a gloved finger, he removed the bird’s excrement and stepped out into the rain towards the law offices of Heany, Blake and Sons. Even though he’d already inquired there and been told that the lad had up and left without notice, he was sure that someone would perhaps have knowledge of his whereabouts.

  Perhaps with the right incentives they could be prevailed upon to help.

  An empty hansom cab came rumbling up the cobbled street and Henry waved for the driver’s attention. If he was to call upon the offices he needed to look presentable.

  As the small carriage lurched forward with him comfortably seated, he stole one more glance at the townhouse before it disappeared from view completely.

  He was determined to return when he’d found the proof that would set Emma free.

  With any luck—he glanced at the smudge on his hat with skepticism—he would succeed in time before she was lost to him forever.

  Chapter 30

  Departure

  As much as Isobel tried, she could in no way find herself accountable for the recent turmoil suffered by the Dudleys.

  Why would her cousin even question her motivations where Mr. Dudley was concerned? After all, she’d only meant to console him over what she imagined was a terrible marital situation. It had been apparent to her, as it must have been to the whole county, that the Dudleys had been having marital strife long before her presence in her cousin’s house.

  How could she be blamed for being handsome and accomplished? It was no wonder that such qualities attracted a man such as Mr. Dudley. Clearly his fortunes made in fine fabrics were due to his superior ability to appreciate elegance and beauty.

  Isobel perused the books on the shelf in the library, her fingers kissing the spines as she passed. She had no desire to actually read any of them, but spending time in here always gave the impression to others that she craved knowledge. That she devoted herself to the understanding of poetry and philosophy.

  She’d once held a book by Plato. To the eye, she couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about—the book looked worn and on the verge of falling apart. She was drawn to the books with new leather covers. Those were the ones that spoke to her, their pages freshly printed and unblemished.

  That was exactly why she and Mr. Dudley were a better match. They had a keen eye for such details.

  “Ah, Lady Isobel.” The butler interrupted Isobel’s reflections. “Mr. and Mrs. Trebor were wondering if they might have a word in the drawing room.”

  “Very well. I suppose I could join them. I’ve found nothing to catch my interest in here,” she said dismissively to the butler.

  The man simply bowed in acknowledgement and stood his ground, waiting for her to leave the room first.

  When she walked into the drawing room, Mr. Trebor rose to his feet and bowed to Isobel.

  “Please have a seat, Lady Isobel,” he said and waited for her to be seated before sitting himself.

  Bright sun streamed in through large windows, making the dust particles dance in the light.

  “You desired to see me?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Trebor started. “Mrs. Trebor and I have sent word to your father that you are quite recovered and will be making your way home presently. That is once you are properly packed, of course.”

  “But I’m not ready to leave,” Isobel said, coughing into her hand. “The air here is doing me much good, not to mention your doctor has done wonders for my hysteria.”

  Why would they pack me up and send me on my way like I am some low-bred cousin? I am an earl’s daughter, any family in this county would be honored to have me as a guest.

  “The doctor assures us that you are recovered,” Mrs. Trebor said in her kind and gracious tone. “We fear that we have indulged in your company for far too long. Such an impressive lady as yourself must be longing for more sophisticated diversions.”

  Isobel wondered if she did have a point. She was a rather impressive lady.

  Mr. Trebor shifted slightly in his chair.

  “We thought with the season in London getting on its way soon that your presence would be needed,” he added generously.

  “Well that’s still months away, surely you know that.”

  Her cousins, though a simple sort, were certainly selfless in their actions. She was sure it had elevated their status in the community having her stay for such a prolonged time and that her sudden departure would show a true decline in their popularity among their neighbors. Still, she did need to consider herself.

  With Mr. Dudley within her grasp, she doubted that a departure at this moment would be the best thing for her prospects. She needed just a little more time for him to see what he was missing out on.

  “I thank you, cousins, for your kind words, but I feel it is my duty to remain and delight you with my company a bit longer. After all, who knows when I might be able to return once I am gone. I certainly don’t want to miss the dance you are to have here on Saturday next.”

  “Oh… that’s been cancelled,” Mr. Trebor said abruptly, causing Mrs. Trebor to give him a curious look.

  “Right, we have called it off due… to a terrible cold that seems to have taken hold of so many in the area,” Mrs. Trebor added, looking quite solemn.

  “That’s a shame, I’ve not yet heard of a such a cold,” Isobel said, curiosity piqued.

  “We’ve tried to keep it from you, dear. With your weakened condition we didn’t want to expose you to anything that would threaten your recovery,” Mrs. Trebor said with confidence. “So you see, all the more reason for you to return to Farthington.”

  “Cousin, you need not worry on my account.”

  “On the contrary, we are filled with worry where you are concerned,” Mr. Trebor added sarcastically.

  Mrs. Trebor darted him a quelling look, but Isobel didn’t notice any of it. She was distracted by the messenger coming up the lane on horseback.

  Could it be a note from Mr. Dudley requesting an audience with her? She bristled with excitement, her attention drawn to the door. At any moment the footman would come in with a note.

  She heard the front door open and the muffled voices of men. Then footsteps approaching.

  Mr. and Mrs. Trebor continued to speak about travel arrangements, but she couldn’t be bothered to even entertain such an idea at the moment.

  Sure enough, there was a knock at the door and the footman came in with a letter for Mr. Trebor.

  Disappointment flashed through Isobel.

  What would she have to do to get Mr. Dudley to take action? Clearly the man needed some added incentive. Just as a plan started to take hold, her thoughts were disrupted with Mr. Trebor’s reaction to the note.

  “What is it, dear?” Mrs. Trebor urged Mr. Trebor to share the news, anxiety etched on her face.

  “Lady Isobel, your mother has taken ill, I’m afraid. You are needed back home immediately.”

  Mr. Trebor’s expression went from concern to relief.

  Isobel only focused on the part that pertained to her departure. She loathed her mother for ruining everything.

  Her plans for Mr. Dudley would have to wait.

  Chapter 31

  A Note

  Eileen held the note that had arrived for Emma and paused just outside her door.

  She told herself that she didn’t want to wake her, that her daughter needed her sleep. Miss Crabtree had been kind enough to let them stay with her and now Emma was catching up on some much-needed rest.

  But she knew that wasn’t the reason for her hesitation. There was little doubt that the note was from Henry.

  Poor child, she thought, and then corrected herself—young woman, she ought to say. Emma had been through so much.

  Eileen’s own sense of failure reared its ugly head and caused her to feel pangs of guilt for not having prepared her for this. For the life of a wayfarer. What w
as a parent’s job if not to prepare their child to stand on their own two feet? To teach them how to navigate the world without them.

  But she had failed.

  Why had she thought that she could shield Emma from all of it?

  Although no one could shield anyone from the dangers of love. That was something that could never be prepared for. She knew well the highs and lows of it, her own experience a wound that would never heal.

  Emma couldn’t be blamed for her view of life. She was young and still had so much to learn.

  Who was Eileen to crush her daughter’s hopes? Not that Eileen considered herself a pessimist, perhaps just a realist, but she’d seen enough of the world, past and future, to know that human nature was the one thing that remained constant.

  She studied the note, written on fine paper and bearing the Drake family seal no less, and decided to put it in her pocket. Just for the time being, she told herself.

  At the moment, her daughter needed to keep up her strength.

  Miss Crabtree had decided to go out for a stroll, now that the rain had stopped. She’d said something about keeping fit, that Emily had told her the importance of exercise. So every day, weather permitting, she walked two miles around town.

  She was a funny old woman. In her youth, Eileen imagined that she and Emily must have made quite a pair, both a little eccentric in their own way. Her sister was a good five years Eileen’s junior so they had never been particularly close.

  Eileen walked into the parlor and settled into one of the pink armchairs and continued to read from Emily’s journal. It was certainly an interesting glimpse into her sister’s mind.

  She heard someone at the door and looked up to see Emma walk in with sleepy eyes.

  “How long have I been asleep?” Emma asked.

  “A few hours.” Eileen still couldn’t believe the size of her daughter. A month ago she’d left her as an eight-year-old girl, lanky like a baby deer and about as coordinated as one. The small features of a child were now fully formed. It was a real shock to the system. It was hard to believe that Eileen had missed out on all those years of development. All those firsts that had happened without her.