Chapter 43
He stumbled from a narrow alleyway near King’s College, boots slipping on the wet cobblestones beneath him.
The rain shook loose from the clouds above and seeped into his jacket, dampening the ends of his hair and moistening his skin.
He was dizzy. A painful throb ached behind his temples, and he became the slightest bit nauseous.
Black spots blinked in and out of his vision as his palms caught on the building, stabilizing him.
He hadn’t been drinking, had he? He certainly didn’t feel like he’d had a drink, though the disorientation was mildly concerning.
No, he’d been inside before this. And then—what?
He’d stepped outside to glimpse the unusual bout of activity in the sky.
The wondrous display of fascinating light. After that—
Drat, what time was it? The penetrating darkness indicated it was late. Later than he was usually out, though he had no reasonable explanation for this.
William ducked under an awning to gather his bearings. A familiar sense of déjà vu seized him. Had he been in a similar situation some time ago? Been here once before with someone else? When he closed his eyes, he could picture her. But who? How?
The flat he rented was half a mile away.
He could follow the River Thames to get to it, but in this dreary weather, the walk wouldn’t be a pleasant one.
Perhaps an omnibus might be available to him, but when his hands dug into his pockets, he came up empty.
Blast, had he been robbed as well? There wasn’t a time when he didn’t have a few shillings on him.
For a pint or an emergency, it didn’t matter.
The rain poured, because of course it did. This was London. Gray skies were the default more often than they were not. And then—another flicker of nostalgia. An ache, almost, like he’d been missing home. Not home, but people.
He stared at the sky. No, a little rain would do no harm. He adjusted the collar of his coat and darted toward the river.
His top hat provided little coverage from the downpour, but he didn’t mind. His lack of recent memory was not only baffling but, quite frankly, concerning. How could he no longer recall what he’d been up to in the hours prior?
When he reached his flat, he discovered that not only was his coin gone, but his key was also nowhere to be found. Sodding hell. He rattled the doorknob, knowing it was useless, knowing he did not have a secondary plan—
The door swung open. Before him stood his sister, half-frightened, half-relieved. She pulled him inside by his coat sleeve.
He discarded his sopping hat on the small table where he usually ate dinner alone. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”
“I’ve been waiting for you for hours,” Caroline said, voice high-pitched and frantic.
“It’s arranged for me to marry Cornelius Archibald.
Father has incurred debts that will only be repaid by my hand.
Brother, I cannot do this. I ran away as soon as I found out.
Lord Archibald is a decaying, decrepit soul four times my age. ”
William straightened. Though their father managed their financial affairs, he would occasionally gamble, but William hadn’t assumed he’d corral his only daughter into his troubles.
William could not allow his sister to marry a man as a way of resolving their father’s debt.
No, this was not Caroline’s responsibility.
His heartbeat quickened. The idea came to him as if he’d known what to do all along. As if it’d been waiting to emerge from his mind.
“You and I have talked of traveling abroad our entire lives,” he said. “Let’s go, Caroline.”
“What?” Her brows pinched. “What about your education?”
He raked a hand through his damp hair. “I am capable of studying elsewhere, and for longer, if we leave for some time.”
After he’d finished his year at King’s College, he was expected to return to his father’s estate. Did he really want to cease his education after another few months and bend to his father’s wishes? To run his estates while Caroline lived out the rest of her days with Archibald, miserable?
No, he certainly did not. Obeying their father’s commands was expected, though it was not what either of them wanted.
Could their paths change so easily? Was life that simple?
They’d talked of New York when they were younger, a fallow dream then, but perhaps not now.
What would happen if they journeyed across the ocean to another country?
He would not leave Dunbry Park forever. It was home. His mother was there, and he remembered with great fondness growing up within its walls. But an adventure—perhaps Caroline would find a suitor who desired her and whom she equally desired. Perhaps they could be happy.
“You’d do that?” she said warily. “For me?”
“I do not wish either one of us a life of misery.”
He pulled his journal from the inside of his coat pocket and thwacked it on the table. “Caroline,” he said slowly. “I cannot recall the last few hours of my evening, and I find it troubling.”
“Well, you do not reek of alcohol,” she stated. “Unless the rain washed it away.”
He idly thumbed through his notebook, contemplating his sudden, mad idea.
The challenges were there. They knew no one in America.
What little of their father’s money they possessed would dwindle and disappear.
It was almost preposterous to think they could succeed, and yet, he knew with great certainty they would.
The feeling was like a tether, one he could not let go of.
As he turned to the last page, he spotted words inked in a strange penmanship.
You know what you’re meant to do. Home will be there when you need it. Trust yourself.
Delaney
His brows knitted together as another strange case of déjà vu fell over him.
The name written underneath was a familiar one.
Those words—it was as if he could hear the distant voice of the girl speaking them.
Though he could not distinctly recall the individual, the message’s significance was palpable.
He knew, somehow, deep down, that if he brought Caroline to America, it would work out.
The journey would be a long one, but the adjustment would be minor in the grand scheme of their adventure.
They would go to New York.
“William? Are you well?”
If Caroline had said something before this, he hadn’t been listening.
“I am,” he said. “I’ve never felt more certain.”
His fingertip traced the ink, the lettering oddly unique compared to his own looping scrawl. Another familiar pull snagged within the depths of his memory, its shape faint and flickering. What was it? Why could he not place it?
“If you are certain, then so am I.”
A smile graced his lips. “Home will be here, for whenever we do wish to return. You are what matters.”
And then, all at once, he knew. He remembered. All of it.
“New York,” he said aloud, breathless.
Caroline’s face glowed. “New York.”
There was a life waiting for them both.
He knew exactly where to find it.