Damsel in Distress? (20 page)

She turned to face him and grasped his hands. She wanted to touch him, know he was here, solid beside her. She felt as though everything was about to come to an end and she wanted to hang on to him as tightly as possible. “Rupert was right. Those men and I did travel back through time. I know it doesn’t make any sense, believe me, I thought it was all just a ‘tall tale’ too when I first heard it. But I’ve done it. I remember now.” She looked down at their hands locked together. “My dad asked me to come and deliver a package to a Rupert Caine two years before his marriage and birth of his first son. I didn’t ask Dad what was in the packet. In hindsight, I should have. But I would do anything for my father, anything.” Her voice caught in her throat. She couldn’t believe the man she grew up thinking was invincible was no longer alive. Tears she had forced back earlier overflowed now. Drops soon fell onto her lap.

Philip untangled his hands from hers and drew her against his shoulder, letting her drain her grief. He kissed the top of her head and made soothing noises in his throat. This he could understand. Grief he was familiar with and something he was able to comfort.

It was a long while before she raised her head and looked into his eyes. “I would like to go to bed now.” she said. “Wait,” Philip said before she could rise. “Do you think he’ll marry her?”

“I don’t know Philip, I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

She got up from her seat and went to her room, locking the door behind her and tried to get some sleep.

***

The dreams that chased each other through her head did not make for a restful sleep and it was with relief that she saw the sun eventually climb over the horizon.

In the morning, once the storm cleared, the bailiff arrived and carted Peter and Charlie away. Their mutterings about belonging to the future ensuring they would not be hanged but would spend the rest of their days in Bedlam instead. Harriet did not feel sorry for them. In fact she waved gleefully from the front step as they were taken away.

Her euphoria didn’t last long. She thought of her father and how he had died trying to save her. How he died by the hand he trusted the most.

Two days ago she was happier than she had ever been. With her memory returned, she was sure of that. But today her heart was breaking. She didn’t want to leave Philip, but she knew she couldn’t stay. She longed to memorize his face but she dared not look into his eyes. She knew she wouldn’t be able to walk away if she saw love shining for her in them.

“Philip,” she said once the men had been taken away. “I must go. I can’t stay here and you can’t marry someone with a past like mine.” Tears slipped down her face despite her best efforts to keep them at bay. “Too much blood has been spilled and I must avenge my father. His men deserve to know the truth. I have to go back. I’m the only one they will listen to. I have to put this right.”

Philip grasped her hand and led her into the front parlour. “But Harriet, what’s done is done,” he said as he lowered her into a chair. “Your father, although you loved him dearly, is gone. It’s time you lived your life for you. What is back there but heartache and bloodshed? Here you have love. Here you have me.” He kneeled on the floor next to her chair and took her hand in his. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered. “I love you.”

The desperation she heard in his voice split her heart in two. Tears fell unabated down her cheeks. What was left of her heart, she gave to him. There was no chance of seeing anything in his eyes now, tears were blearing her vision. She raised her head and took one last look at him. “I have to go. I’m so sorry, Philip, but I don’t belong here in this life, with you.” She quickly got up and walked through the door, sliding Peter’s pendant onto her neck as she went. It was time to go home.

Chapter 38

London, 1837

Harriet took a deep breath and knocked on the door. She wasn’t sure what she wanted most, for it to be answered or not. Her stomach twisted inside her new clothes and she placed a hand there to calm it down. She was unused to the firm restraint which held her in place, although she thought she could become used to the figure the corset gave her. It might take her a while to get used to the size of the sleeves however. They were enormous.

Behind the door, she heard footsteps. He stomach threatened to spill its contents onto the step at her feet.

The door was flung open and there he stood. The man she hadn’t seen for twenty-three years. The breath she had taken upon knocking rushed out of her lungs. His hair was greying and there were deep groves in his forehead, as if he scowled often. But the laugh lines were still at his eyes and there was a light in them she recognised.

Philip stood there in shock. His mouth hung open much as she suspected hers did also. Neither of them said a word for a long time. They just stood there staring at each other.

“Harriet?” Philip’s voice was hushed as though he was afraid if he said her name she would vanish. Not that she could blame him; she’d done so once before.

She cleared her throat, trying to move the lump which was lodged in the way. “Philip,” she managed, “may I come in?”

He stepped to the side to allow her in and as soon as she crossed the threshold he shut the door behind her. Without even looking at her, he strode across the hall and waved her through a door into a parlour. He shut that door too.

“Is it really you?” he asked when they were alone. He stood at the window and looked out at the street.

“Yes,” she whispered. The lump was still wedged in her throat. Her nervousness made it almost impossible to think of something other than a one-word answer.

“Where the hell have you been?” He spun around to look at her. The raw fury she saw on his face was hard for her to look at.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” The lump had become bigger. This wasn’t a good idea, she should have stayed at home. She stepped closer to the closed door, ready to make her escape.

“Tell me anyway,” he said, halting her in her tracks.

“Please, Philip, you won’t understand,” she said, twisting her hands in front of her. She wished he would offer a seat. She was afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her up much longer.

“You walked away from me twenty-three years, three months and two weeks ago, and you think that I don’t at least deserve an explanation as to where you have been all this time!” His words exploded from his lips.

Harriet wasn’t surprised at his anger and she didn’t blame him for it, not even a little bit. She knew when she came here it wouldn’t be easy. But she had something she had to tell him. No matter how hard. Something he’d deserved to know many years before now.

“I looked for you, you know. Rupert told me how, but when I tried to follow you through time, I was never able to accomplish it. You didn’t leave anything behind for me to use as an anchor, not even the ring I gave you. Do you have any idea what it has been like these years, without you?”

“No Philip, I do not. But I do know what it was like to live without you.” She took a deep breath. “It was hell.” Harriet spoke the truth. There was little she found joy in once she went back to the time where she belonged. The streets she grew up on seemed empty, the stores she had so enjoyed shopping in held no joy and the friends she’d had didn’t understand her sadness. She had been alone for the last twenty-three years. Well, almost alone. “When I returned home, things had changed.
The Family
had already fallen apart. With my father dead and me missing, it was only a matter of time before someone else took over. I wish I could say it was someone as just and fair as my father, but it wasn’t. It was my cousin, Murdock. Murdock is not a pleasant person to be around and I knew he saw me as a threat to his throne. I took off and went to ground for years. It wasn’t a life I had imagined I would ever live.”

Philip slumped in the chair next to where she stood. “Sit,” he said. His voice softened, his anger seeped out of him and he looked at her with concern. “I would like to think it served you right, but I can’t bear the thought of you suffering as I have done all these years. Please tell me you found some happiness.”

She lowered herself onto the grey chair next to his and smiled gently at him. “There was one thing that brought me great joy. I brought pictures to show you.” She opened the small bag she’d brought with her and took out the photos she had printed off yesterday. They were encased in a protective box, to keep them safe on her journey. “There’s something you need to know.” She handed him the box but held her hand on the top of it until he looked at her. “There are a few things in this box that will surprise you. First, you must understand what you are looking at is a sort-of portrait. An image is captured of a person or object, but it is not at all like what you are used to. It isn’t a painting. It isn’t a sketch. It’s called a photograph and it is in the exact likeness of the object it is taken of, as though it is held up to a mirror or like you are looking through a window.”

She took her hand away and held her breath as she watched him open it and look inside. She knew which picture was on top. “She’s yours. I must’ve become pregnant while we were at Bingham’s estate. I couldn’t come back to you.” She spoke in hushed tones, hoping he would understand. “I couldn’t risk her not making it through the fabric. She needed me even more than I needed you and, in a way, she was able to give me a piece of you each day. Her smile is yours and she has your height.”

His hands trembled as he lifted the picture of his new-born daughter from the box. She was wearing a pink onesie and a matching pink hat. Her eyes were closed and her fingers were curled in tight fists. Her skin was so delicate, so new, it was almost see-through. Harriet was right, it was as though looking through a window, the image was so clear. “She’s beautiful,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “What’s her name?”

The picture that was taken of their daughter caught the light from the window, bathing her in a warm glow. Harriet remembered that day. It was one filled with both intense joy and painful sorrow. She had missed Philip that day more than any other.

“Gertrude Elizabeth Blade.” Harriet leaned over to pull the rest of the photos out of the box for him. “I made sure I took as many pictures as I could of her as she was growing up. I hoped that one day I could return at least long enough to show them to you. Here.” She pulled one out from near the bottom. “This one I took last week.”

“Gertrude, I like that.” He held the photos as though they were a baby themselves, being careful not to damage them. “Where is she now?” he asked. He took the one she offered and stared at it in wonder.

“She’s gone. She slipped through the fabric to another time and place. It was her leaving, that brought me back here to you. I could never leave her behind, but she is of the age to go out on her own now.”

Philip looked down at the portraits of his only child. She looked like her mother. He smiled; she was beautiful.

“I wish I could’ve met her,” he whispered, not taking his eyes off the photograph. The pictures showed him her life, and he was grateful for that, but he wanted desperately to hold her in his own arms. That he had missed her entire life, that he didn’t know she even existed until now, killed him.

“I hope someday you will, Philip.” Harriet gently touched his arm, afraid he would pull away from her.

He looked up and met her eye. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Harriet,” he said. “Even with what you did to me, I couldn’t stop any more than I could stop myself from breathing. All those years ago, you became a part of me and, try as I might, and believe me I’ve tried, I couldn’t evict you from inside my heart.”

She squeezed his thigh with her hand. “I’m not leaving this time, Philip. I love you and there is nothing that can make me leave you again.” She felt a tear slip from her eye and she quickly swiped it away. “I couldn’t survive if I had to leave you again. Please tell me that I can stay.”

Suddenly, Philip placed the photographs onto the small table in front of him, got up from his seat, and walked away. His back was stiff and unforgiving and her heart hit her stomach; this was the end then.

She stood up too and pulled on the gloves she hadn’t even noticed she’d taken off. It was time to go. She forced herself to think of her next move. She wouldn’t go back to her time; she’d just told Philip she wouldn’t, but she did need to find a place to stay. She walked towards the door. Perhaps she could get a room at The Cavendish Hotel on Jermyn Street. She’d been smart enough to check out accommodation available in the 1830s before she arrived.

“Wait.” Philip had turned around and realised she was leaving. “I thought you said you wouldn’t leave me again?”

Harriet stopped just short of the door. Her heart resumed its beating. She turned to look at him. He stood in the middle of the room with his hands clenched into fists and his mouth in a firm line, but she could see that he was trembling from head to toe. “Philip,” she said softly, longing seeping into her voice.

He crossed the room in three steps and swept her into his arms. His mouth met hers instantly. Relief and lust and love battled with each other for room inside her heart.

Her heart skipped a beat when he whispered “I love you” against her lips. She swept her lips across his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Marry me, Harriet,” he said against her lips. “That way I’ll know you’ll never leave me again.” The look he gave her dared her to deny his request.

“How soon can we do it?” she asked with a smile. “Tomorrow?”

“I’ll arrange for a special licence and we can use it today.” He returned her smile and wrapped his arms around her, his fingers slowly undoing the buttons down the back of her dress.

She laughed and for the first time in twenty-three years she felt safe again. She was exactly where she belonged and there wasn’t anything in this world that could make her leave Philip this time. She pressed her lips to his and together they stood wrapped in each other’s arms. The morning sun spilled through the window and illuminated their daughter’s smile in the photographs on the table.