“With no sense!” Elliot snapped. “I was warned, but I didn’t listen. Well, I’m not making the same mistake Thomas Simmons made. I’ll put an end to this right now.” He turned to Doris. “You’ll have ample time to pack your things by Friday. I can always drive you round, if you forget anything.” He raised a finger. “No books. Mama will help you unpack, to make sure.” He strode from the room.

  “Elliot!” Doris hurried after him.

  Pam reached the hallway in time to hear the front door thump shut. She raced toward it. Tears prickled at her eyelashes when a wailing Doris fled up the stairs, her sobs echoing around the spacious entrance hall.

  Bella came to see what the fuss was about. Her eyes met Pam’s as she shook her head and disappeared through the doorway from which she’d emerged. Pam stared up the stairs, wondering if the rhyme had suddenly dumped her in the middle of the dark ages. Numerous questions jammed her mind, one crying to be answered above the rest: who the hell was Thomas Simmons?

  Chapter Eleven

  Margaret pulled on her coat and slipped the ten-dollar bill Robin handed her into a pocket.

  “Are you sure about this?” Robin said. “I can go with you.”

  “We’ve walked to the corner store together at least twenty times. It’s only two blocks away.”

  “But why do you want to go alone?”

  “Because I have to start going out by myself.” She wanted to show Robin that she could do it, that she could go and buy a loaf of bread without Robin holding her hand.

  Robin’s face creased with worry. “It gets dark early now.”

  “Yes, it does. But it’s 1:30 in the afternoon.”

  “Take my phone.”

  “Robin, I’ll be back in less than five minutes.” Margaret blew out a frustrated sigh when Robin bounded up the stairs. She had a good mind to leave, but Robin would come after her. “Thank you,” she mumbled when Robin returned. The phone joined the money. Margaret turned toward the door.

  “Don’t talk to anyone.” Robin hovered behind her. “Just go to the store, get the bread, and come back.”

  “What will you do when I go out while you’re at university?” When Robin sucked in her breath, Margaret regretted her affectionate teasing. She patted Robin’s arm. “Don’t worry, I won’t unless I’ve discussed it with you first. Now, I should go. I’ll be back before you’ve even shut the door. Oh, what about a key?” She’d never unlocked the front door, she realized.

  “Don’t worry about that. It’ll be unlocked.”

  “No, lock it.”

  Robin hesitated. “Okay.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a keychain, and removed a key. “Here.”

  Margaret silently accepted it. Excited, nervous, and eager to leave before Robin stopped her, she opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. Unlike that very first day she’d stepped outside with Robin, the sun wasn’t shining, and a light dusting of snow covered the path. She should have asked for a pair of gloves, but she wasn’t turning back now. Her fingers wouldn’t freeze, especially with her hands in her pockets.

  Her hand curled around the phone in her pocket when she reached the sidewalk and turned toward the store. She passed only one other person, a man who didn’t make eye contact or speak, as usual. She was soon pulling open the store’s glass door, reminding herself that people were people, money was money, and she’d bought a loaf of bread with Robin several times.

  The shopkeeper smiled at her, much to Margaret’s delight. She returned the smile, selected a fresh loaf, and paid for it, thanking the shopkeeper for the change. “Have a nice day,” the woman chirped, and Margaret returned the sentiment. Outside, she paused to breathe in the cool air and savour her success. I did it! Not quite. She wasn’t home yet.

  At the corner, she looked both ways and waited for a car to turn, then crossed the road and continued up the sidewalk. Movement up ahead caught her eye. What—was that Robin, darting up the front path? Margaret wanted to strangle her! How could she become the independent woman Robin wanted her to be, when Robin didn’t trust her to walk two blocks by herself on their own street?

  As she climbed the front steps, she tried to quell her dismay. If it wasn’t for Robin’s tendency to imagine the worst, Margaret would teach her a lesson by standing out of sight on the porch and waiting for her to rush out in alarm. Instead she unlocked the front door and stepped into her safe haven. She rolled her eyes when she glanced into the living room and spotted Robin on the sofa, supposedly engrossed in a book. Robin preferred those e-reader things. “Bread,” she announced, then stifled a giggle at Robin’s feigned look of surprise and decided not to reveal that she’d caught Robin watching over her.

  “Your first foray out into the world by yourself,” Robin declared with a smile as she rose. She gave Margaret a quick hug. “I should give you Pam’s keys. Remind me, next time we’re upstairs. You were serious when you said you won’t go out without telling me, right? At least until I stop hyperventilating about it.”

  Margaret may have only walked two blocks on her own, but those two blocks were a significant step toward asserting the independence that Robin wanted and narrowing the time gap that separated them. “I promise I’ll talk to you first. Now, let me start the casserole for tonight.”

  “Do you need help?”

  Not really, but she’d welcome Robin’s company. “Yes, I do.” Margaret cradled the bread in her right arm and slipped her left around Robin’s waist. She smiled when she felt Robin’s arm around her shoulders. It felt so natural to walk up the hallway to the kitchen, arm in arm. She wanted to be with Robin for the rest of her life, not as a close friend or a family obligation, but as Robin’s partner, her confidante, and yes, her lover.

  *****

  Sniffling into a handkerchief, Pam leaned forward on the wooden bench and gazed into what she’d come to think of as her little pond. Though she’d known it was coming, she hadn’t expected today to hit her so hard. Sure, when a scent, conversation, or sight in town evoked a memory of her life in 2010, she often felt nostalgic, even melancholy. But today was different. She felt lonely and depressed; she ached inside, and wondered if she truly belonged here or if she was crazy.

  The chill breeze chased ripples across the pond’s surface. Pam hunched her shoulders and lifted her coat’s collar, then blew her nose. Hairs stood up on the back of her neck. Someone was behind her! Her heart in her mouth, she twisted around. Fear gave way to surprise. Doris mumbled a hello and lowered herself onto the bench.

  If Pam hadn’t known that Elliot was coming for Doris tomorrow, she could have been forgiven for thinking that Doris had already moved out. Since that scene in the drawing room, she’d glimpsed Doris once, and only because she’d forgotten her gloves when going out for an evening walk with Jasper. Poor Doris must have thought the coast was clear; she’d hurried up the hallway as soon as the front door opened.

  Doris clasped her hands on her lap. “I wanted to have a word before I leave tomorrow,” she said quietly.

  Pam could hardly bear to look at Doris, who was white as a ghost. Her pale skin made the shadows under her puffy eyes more ominous, and the weariness etched into her face . . . Pam reached out and patted Doris’s hands.

  Doris sat stiffly. “I’m sorry you had to witness that altercation in the drawing room. It must have been awkward for you. Thank you for defending me, though you didn’t have to.”

  Her lifeless voice made Pam forget about her own reasons for feeling down. “Of course I did.” God, she couldn’t sit by and watch Doris ruin her life. Doris wouldn’t appreciate her meddling, but she wasn’t Doris’s favourite person, anyway. “Doris, what are you doing with Elliot? He treats you like a child. You can do better. I thought you were the sort of woman who’d want a man who respects you.” She braced herself to be told to mind her own business. When Doris swallowed and stared down at her lap, Pam wanted Doris to tell her off, to defend herself, anything! But the fight was gone from her. “There are other men—”

  “No.” Doris shook her head. “No.”

  “Why not? You’re only twenty-four. You can wait for someone better.”

  “I doubt anyone else will have me.” Her chin trembled.

  Pam glanced down at the used handkerchief in her left hand. Um, no. “I’ve used it,” she said apologetically, lifting her handkerchief a few inches. Then she continued, before Doris tried to derail the conversation by asking about the reason for Pam’s moist eyes. “Why wouldn’t anyone else have you? You’re from an upper class family with a good reputation.” Not that such things should matter. “How did you get involved with Elliot? Didn’t you realize early on that he’s a . . .” Jerk? “. . . he doesn’t treat you well?”

  “My parents arranged our engagement. I was . . . I was engaged to someone else once, but he broke off our engagement.” Her eyes closed and her knuckles whitened.

  “Did you love him?” Pam asked softly, suspecting the answer.

  She nodded, then opened her eyes. “But I misjudged him, or perhaps the depth of his love for me.”

  “What happened?” When Doris remained silent, Pam hoped she wouldn’t clam up, just when things were getting interesting. But she’d sought Pam out to talk, and that must mean that Doris was desperate, or just didn’t care anymore. Pam stared into the pond again, not wanting to pressure her.

  “You’ll laugh at me,” Doris finally said.

  “No, I won’t. I promise I won’t. What is it?”

  Doris swallowed. “I want to be a doctor.”

  “A doctor!” Pam breathed. Okay, now the medical book made sense.

  Doris tentatively met her eyes. “I have a university degree. So do some of the women you’ve met. But they got theirs for something to do before they married.”

  “And you got yours because you hope to go to medical school,” Pam drawled.

  Doris nodded.

  “Well, that’s commendable.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes!” But what did this have to do with Doris and her broken engagement? A sick feeling formed in the pit of Pam’s stomach. “But your first fiancé didn’t think so?”

  “I thought he did. He was supportive when I was in university, even bought me some medical books. I thought he was taking my aspiration seriously, but he wasn’t. He thought it was a passing fancy, that I’d give up on the idea once we married, and focus on our family and the housework.” Her mouth twisted. “I thought he honestly supported me, that he would have been proud to have a doctor as a wife. That he loved me, so he’d want the best for me, just as I wanted the best for him. I couldn’t have been more wrong.” She wiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek.

  Pam squeezed Doris’s arm, then held it. “When did he realize you were serious?”

  “When I showed him the application for medical school. It was horrible. He shouted at me and tore it up. I thought he’d be pleased.” Her bewildered voice exposed the betrayal she still felt. “I thought once he’d calmed down, we could talk about it, but the next thing I knew, he’d announced to everyone that our engagement was off. My parents were horrified. He was a good catch,” she said wryly.

  “He doesn’t sound like one to me,” Pam said, warmed when the hint of a smile touched Doris’s lips. “You must have been terribly hurt.”

  “Yes. And things changed for me. I was often overlooked when invitations went out for parties. Nobody called on me. It became apparent that I’d moved to the bottom of the list of desirable wives. Thomas turned so many against me.”

  Thomas Simmons, Pam presumed. But . . . “Why haven’t you applied to medical school? Why did you hide your medical book?”

  “Father refuses to pay the tuition. He forbade me from entertaining the notion again.”

  How could you forbid someone from having a desire?

  “He arranged the engagement with Elliot.” Doris sighed. “Elliot returned to Halifax earlier this year, after spending time in the United States. He wants a family. But he doesn’t want a relationship. I’ll be a maid and breeder, nothing more. I suppose my desperate circumstances made me one of the few who might accept those terms.”

  Desperate circumstances? They were sitting next to a freaking pond on a god-knows-how-many-acres estate with a flipping mansion and several guest houses, to boot. But none of it was Doris’s. She was expected to marry and become the responsibility of her husband. Still . . . “Doris—”

  “A couple of months ago, after Mother and Father had left, I was in town and found that medical book among the items donated to the thrift shop. I couldn’t resist it. I must have read it a hundred times, even though it hurts.”

  “Doris!” Pam let out an exasperated sigh. “Why are you giving up on your dream? I know you’re dependent on your parents, but if you truly want to be a doctor, there has to be a way. What about what you said about women and achieving?”

  Doris snorted softly. “I’m afraid I’m a coward. Words are easy, Margaret. If I were to break my engagement with Elliot, Father would probably disown me. What would I do? Where would I live? It would be too high a price to pay.”

  Pam gaped at her. “From where I’m sitting, you’ll pay a much higher price by marrying Elliot and being trapped in a life you hate.” With a man she’d likely loathe. “Yes, if you decided to pursue your dream, you’d have rough times ahead, but at least you’d have a chance at happiness and fulfillment, and maybe a man who supports you. Maybe he wouldn’t be rich, but so what? You have to think about what’s best for your life, not only for today, but ten, twenty, thirty years from now.” As she had, when she’d announced that she’d remain in 1910, rather than return to her own time? She wished she could tell Doris how familiar she was with turning one’s back on everything one knew because of the promise that lay around the corner.

  For a moment she felt like a fraud. Who was she, to counsel Doris to throw everything away, when she’d been sobbing into a hanky not ten minutes ago? Well, she wasn’t saying it would be easy. There would be doubts, the agony of loss, the wobbly moments when Doris would be convinced that she was absolutely insane. But it was better than regret.

  “There’s no point thinking about it,” Doris murmured.

  “Yes, there is!”

  “No, I can’t do it. I’ll never be able to afford it. Father won’t tolerate it while I’m under his roof.”

  “Do you have any money at all?”

  Doris’s brow furrowed. “I have a little put aside, but not enough for food, lodgings, and tuition.”

  “Jasper told me your parents are due back in a few months.”

  Doris nodded. “February.”

  “Take that time to find a job and get yourself a room.”

  “No, I can’t—they won’t approve. Elliot won’t approve.”

  “Doris.” Pam hesitated, then covered Doris’s hands with hers. “You’ll slowly die with Elliot. You’ll hate him. You’ll resent your children.”

  “I don’t even want children. I wouldn’t mind if I never marry, either,” Doris blurted. A sea of red washed over her face. “You must think me a terrible woman.”

  “No, I don’t. Forget what everyone else wants you to do. They don’t have to live your life. Go to medical school. Surround yourself with people who support you, starting with me and Jasper.” He’d loved the independent Emily and would marry a woman from 2010. Seeing Doris suffer with Elliot would pain him as much as it would Pam. “The universe—God wants you to be happy.”

  Doris pulled her hands from underneath Pam’s and turned toward her to search Pam’s face with curious eyes. “Who are you?” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “You’re not Margaret Wilton, and you’re . . . different.”

  Shit! Pam’s heart raced. She forced a shrill laugh. “What do you mean? Of course I’m Margaret Wilton.”

  “No, you’re not,” Doris said, her voice quietly confident. “When I was seventeen, I went to Toronto with Mother and Father, to see Oliver. That’s when I first met Jasper. Of course, he didn’t know Margaret then—if he’s ever known her at all—and so he had no way of knowing that, while on that trip, I frequently visited with a Miss Violet Dodson, the daughter of one of Mother’s friends. On one such visit, several other young ladies were in attendance, including a Miss Margaret Wilton.”

  “Margaret Wilton isn’t an unusual name,” Pam said, grasping at straws.

  “The Margaret Wilton I met had the same address that you claim. I only remember it because Father later told me that one of his friends lived on the same road.”

  Shit, what do I do? “How long have you suspected that I’m not Margaret Wilton?” Pam asked, stalling.

  Doris pursed her lips. “When Oliver told me you’d be coming to stay with us, I remembered my time in Toronto, but it was almost eight years ago. I sort of remembered what Margaret looked like. When we were first introduced, you weren’t what I was expecting. But you’re about the same height, and have the same colour hair, and I told myself that my memory might be vague, and that Margaret was only fifteen when I met her. Women’s faces do mature. And Jasper believed you to be Margaret—or so I thought.”

  At a loss, Pam could only stare back at Doris. Was she about to be turned over to the local police?

  “I saw him help you, at the ball. He positioned your hands. Margaret wouldn’t need such instruction.” Doris’s mouth turned up at the corners. “And she could embroider. We spent an hour in each other’s company doing so.”

  Fuck. “If you don’t believe I’m Margaret, why haven’t you done anything?” Pam said, doing her best to sound indignant.

  “What would I do, tell Oliver? He dismisses everything I say, and you and Jasper would only deny my accusation. Go to the police? You must have identification that supports the name, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to marry. I’d be painted as a hysterical woman suffering delusions, and Elliot would have another reason to doubt my suitability as a wife.” Her gaze left Pam’s face. “Perhaps I am delusional. As my conviction that you aren’t Margaret grew, I asked myself, what had happened to the real Margaret? What had you done with her? But you don’t strike me as the sort capable of physical violence.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20