Chapter 20
August 31st, 1881
Edinburgh, Scotland
“Well, Eva, do I get one last embrace or not?”
Duncan stood in front of the train station with his arms wide. With his tweed jacket, bushy moustache and cheeky grin, he was every bit as charming as he was boisterous.
Eva felt the bittersweet ripple of the sadness that accompanied a final goodbye. She had only known Duncan for three weeks, but he had become a loyal friend.
She glanced at Arthur, who was in deep conversation with Elias.
It was a shame they would all soon part.
“Well?” Duncan said.
“Thought I’d make you beg,” she said.
“After all this time, ye still make me work for yer affections.”
She smiled. “For no other reason than it makes me laugh, and I’m only joking, you big oaf. Come here.”
He reeled her into his broad arms, and she was swallowed whole by his frame.
“Och, lass, I’ll miss yer spirit,” he said.
“And I’ll miss yer stench.”
“Aye, yer accent is coming along nicely. Keep at it, and you’ll soon be a stinky Scot like the great Duncan.” He pulled away and held her shoulders. “Take care of yerself. Moreso, take care of Elias for me. The fool has not been himself these days.”
Her stomach flipped.
Ever since they kissed, Elias was acting weird and for good reason. She had moaned his best friend’s name in the throes of passion. It was the epitome of embarrassment, and they hadn’t spoken since. Granted, she was avoiding any conversation by lying low. It was beyond cowardly. And since they were saying goodbye to Duncan and Arthur, they would soon be alone, and that meant she had no choice but to apologize. The thought of speaking to him after that blunder made her nervous to high hell. How would she find the right words?
Arthur approached. “Miss Quinn, the time has come to say goodbye. Duncan, may I steal Eva from your hairy grip?”
“Arthur,” Eva smiled. “To think none of this would have happened if it were not for you showing up at the farm that day.”
“What are the odds?” Arthur said.
“What do you mean?”
“That our carriage happened to break just outside your farm, that I happened to come to your door for help and you happened to know Elias,” Arthur said, smiling. “It was as if it were meant to be.”
Her smile faltered.
A familiar tingle trickled down her spine. Rosie the doll, Lewis and his story about the money-giving man, Elias and his gift of a prickly thistle pin … how many coincidences would it take until the events had to be fate? Everything she did seemed to fall back to her and Henry’s otherworldly connection.
“Strange how things happen sometimes,” Eva said.
“Yes.” Arthur squeezed her shoulders. “Our world is strange, isn’t it? I suppose what matters is how you embrace that strangeness, whether you fight it or go with the current. Perhaps that’s the key to happiness? Those who go with the current are infinitely happier than those who fight it.”
“Interesting theory.”
“I was thinking about it weeks ago while watching fish swim upstream.” Arthur’s blue eyes were sparkling. “Answer me this, Eva: are you happier having gone with the current?”
“How could I not be? The current led me to meet new people, to have new experiences and overcome challenges.”
“And it’s made you stronger, hasn’t it?”
Eva made to say something, but she swallowed it. If this journey had made her stronger, why didn’t she feel it? She looked at Elias. He was watching her; his face was slack and his expression was muted beneath a shroud of concealment. Clearly, he was still upset.
“I guess it has,” Eva said weakly.
But it hadn’t. Not really. She still felt weak and shy. Probably because she had yet to speak about the horrific events that had led her on this journey in the first place.
“Goodbye, Eva,” Arthur said. “Thank you for showing me the resilience of a free spirit. It is my aim to be less stiff and live my life swimming with the current.”
“I hope the current takes you somewhere magnificent,” Eva said, hugging him. “Goodbye, Arthur. It’s been a hoot with you all.”
Elias approached, levelling a stare at Eva. “Shall we head on?”
Her heart leapt against her ribs. All she could do was nod.
They left the train station to enter the hectic crowd that painted the grey streets of Edinburgh. Like her first time in nineteenth-century London, she couldn’t help but stare dumbly at her surroundings. But, unlike that time, when Elias and Lottie had taken her arms to guide her through the chaos, she was now left alone to trail behind Elias’s tall figure.
Reaching a main street, Elias hailed a carriage.
A man wearing a flat cap and a grey jacket led his horse forward, stopping in front of Elias. There was a quick exchange of words and money. The gentleman jumped down from his seat to open the door to the black carriage.
“Good evening, miss,” he said.
“Evening, and thank you,” Eva replied as she climbed inside.
Elias stepped in and sat across from her. The door shut. Within seconds, the carriage jolted forward.
The silence that followed was painful.
Weeks ago, she had imagined her visit to Elias’s home would be exciting. She couldn’t wait to see Edinburgh or the home of which he always talked so fondly. She had envisioned blue skies, green hills, an rural eighteenth-century relic by the river and a grinning Elias showing her around the property. All she had now was a tight ball of nerves in her abdomen and a sulking Elias who silently contemplated his troubles, no doubt wondering whether to kick her out of his home come evening.
Maybe that would be for the best, she thought. All she had to do was apologize and leave. It was technically possible, given she had saved enough money to buy a train ticket back to the Randall farm. But by running away, she was hiding from her problems and making Elias another memory to be locked away in the depths of her mind, like Henry and Lottie. He didn’t deserve that. With a deep inhale, she peered out the window.
What to do…
No sunny blue skies for her. Only a fine spray of cool rain from a dreary grey sky. And the weather only worsened the closer they got to Elias’s home near the Pentland Hills.
An excruciating hour later, their carriage drove up a snaking dirt road toward a large square manor set in a gated courtyard. The ancient, grey-stoned building sat beside a low mountain skirted by a wide river.
They stepped down from the carriage. Fat droplets of rain pummelled down, drenching Eva to the bone. Suitcase in hand, Elias darted to the front door, forcing Eva to run through the puddles after him.
Upon stepping into the wide entrance hall, they were met by a homely housekeeper.
Elias greeted the older woman with a curt nod. “Agnes.”
Eva expected Elias to at least introduce her, but he handed Agnes his soaked jacket, marched past the staircase and disappeared down a corridor on the left. A door slammed.
Eva’s shoulders slumped.
He’s livid with you.
Agnes flashed her a grandmotherly smile. “Ye must be Miss Quinn. Master has spoken about your arrival. Would ye like me to show ye to yer bedchamber? Perhaps I can get ye a hot tea?”
“Please,” Eva said.
As she followed Agnes up the wide wooden staircase, her heart beat unpleasantly fast. Elias was purposely humiliating her. Then again, hadn’t she done the same to him? She had to apologize. And she had to do it this evening, even if making amends was an emotional challenge.
***
Later that evening, when the rain had eased and Eva was warmer after a hot bath, she went to apologize.
Her hand hovered above her bedroom door handle.
Open it and go to him.
But she remained frozen. With a sharp breath, she turned and pressed her back against the wood.
Stop psyching yourself out.
The daylight was fast disappearing, painting her bedroom a dull grey. A cool draft was seeping through the four windows, chilling the room. Against the wall to her left was a double bed made of polished oak, covered with several thick blankets.
She considered crawling between the sheets.
Nope, you will not hide away. You need to speak with him tonight.
Her gaze fell on the porcelain washing basin on the dresser across from the foot of the bed. The small mirror above caught her worried face. With a sigh, she went to the basin and splashed her face with water. The iciness cooled the heat from her nerves. Only when her face tingled did she stop to bury her face into a cloth.
The urge came to scrub at her skin.
Annoyed, she dropped the towel.
She leaned in to observe her reflection in the tiny mirror. Blinking away the water from her eyes, she studied the thin scars on her cheek. The redness had long ago faded. She looked at her right palm and closed it into a fist. The stiffness was also improving.
Things were healing.
And they would heal even more if you finally opened up to him.
She grumbled. “Fine.”
Without giving herself any more time for doubt, Eva opened her bedroom door. She didn’t know where Elias was, and she most certainly didn’t know what to say to him. It wasn’t as simple as saying sorry because apologizing came with extra baggage, like confessing her kidnapping or reluctantly admitting feelings for Henry still bubbled below the surface, but she assumed she would figure it out along the way.
She proceeded down the corridor. Taking in the oil paintings on the red tapestry wall, she studied the various depictions of cultures from around the world. At the top of the staircase, she halted. A chandelier hung above her. Like a golden crown jewel, it presided over the grand entrance hall. She imagined it would look like a three-tiered birthday cake when lit.
The only source of light came from a couple of candles upon a long table to her right. As she descended the staircase, she was drawn to a huge frame on the wall above.
Within the black frame were about a hundred butterfly species, all stuck through their core with a metal pin. The impeccable wings of the preserved specimens offered an array of bright colours. Some were large, about the size of her palm. Others were small, like that of a ten-cent coin. But all were equally trapped beneath a sheet of dusty glass.
“Master likes to collect things,” Agnes’ voice echoed in the hall.
Startled, Eva looked at Agnes, her hand upon her beating heart. “You gave me a fright.”
“My apologies, Miss Quinn. I heard ye come down the stairs and thought to ask if all was well with yer room.”
“All is well, thank you.” Eva smiled and turned her attention back to the butterflies. “He is good at collecting things, isn’t he?”
“Oh yes, ye should see his bird collection in his office. He has a fondness for rare specimens. He says they are harder to catch and more elusive in the wild, which makes them more valuable. It also makes master the talk amongst his friends.”
“How so?”
“Men of his stature desire to show off the rarest creature caught. Elias McKenzie is well known to be the envy of many men in the scientific community.” Agnes stepped to the frame and pointed at a large blue butterfly. “This dealan-dè brought him great fame.”
“Dealan-dè?”
“Oh, do excuse me. That’s Scots Gaelic for ‘butterfly’.”
Eva’s nails poked into her palms. Elias had called her dealan-dè on a few occasions. The discovery of the word’s meaning suggested the source of his anger was more complicated than her moaning Henry’s name.
“Do you know where I could find him?” Eva said.
“In his office, the first door on the left of that corridor,” Agnes said.
“Thank you.”
“He isn’t in a very good mood, though.”
“Partly my fault,” Eva said.
And partly his for thinking he could capture her so easily. The more she thought of it, the more she wondered the true reason behind his bad mood. She had known Elias to be mild tempered, caring and supportive. If he knew about her past with Henry and assumed something drastic had happened, wouldn’t he have tried to make sense of her mistake? Or at the very least asked her about it? Why did she have to be the one to apologize?
Maybe he was tired of chasing that rare, exotic creature.
Her face was hot. She turned to the corridor and pressed forward, knowing exactly what to say.
Eva stepped into a wonderland of dead animals. The brush of cool air wafting from the open window pinched her cheeks, sending a subtle shiver down her spine. It was like walking into cold water. By the time she spotted Elias bent over a large black desk in the centre of the room, she was blurry-eyed with anger and sweating from fear because of what she was about to say.
“I’m an idiot,” she declared.
Elias looked up from dissecting a large crow.
“But I’m more of an idiot for not seeing why you’re so cross with me,” she said.
“And why am I so cross with ye?” he said.
“Because you can’t easily stick me with a pin and show me off to your friends.”
Elias regarded her with a look of disbelief. Grumbling something unintelligible, he dropped the tweezers. They fell with a metallic thud on his desk.
“What does flichtering dealan-dè mean?” she demanded.
He stood and shut the window behind him. A puff of cool air bellowed into the room, sending some of the stuffed birds hanging from the ceiling into a swaying dance.
“Well?” she pressed.
“Fluttering butterfly,” he said quietly.
She crossed her arms. Just as she thought.
“What I did was dumb, okay?” she said. “We shouldn’t have kissed, and I shouldn’t have flirted with you when I knew I wasn’t ready. I’m sorry for having done that.”
He kept his firm gaze on a caged yellow bird. The delicate oval brass cage sat upon a shelf to the left of the window.
“I’m still dealing with a bunch of things, and I know that isn’t an excuse for the way I behaved—”
“Ye used me to escape,” he said.
“No,” she said quickly. “I wanted, I wanted to—”
He looked at her. “You wanted to have a wee thrill.”
When their eyes locked, her stomach fell. Complicated emotions rose between them and, for a fleeting moment, she wanted to run.
“Yes,” she choked out. “I wanted to feel something other than darkness.”
He shook his head. “And so ye played with another man’s heart?”
“Look, I thought I could move on from my ordeal. I thought I could start something new.” She paused to gather her whirling thoughts. “I like you. I really like you.”
“But?”
She winced. She wished there were no buts, but there were.
“Before I let somebody in, I need to deal with what happened. It isn’t fair to you otherwise,” she said.
His brows furrowed. “Christ, what did he do to ye? Dinnae ye think it’s time to speak about it?”
She opened her mouth to say more, but her throat was closing. Why wasn’t it as simple as saying the words?
A few tense seconds passed.
Frustrated by her inability to speak, Eva brought her attention to a blue-and-yellow parrot sitting on a black wooden pedestal.
“And ye still won’t open up,” he said.
“I was kidnapped,” she said a little too loudly.
As soon as the words left her mouth, a wave of shame burned through her. Why was she so ashamed to admit that? Was it because it proved she was weak? That she was not the strong and independent person she always liked to parade herself as?
His eyes observed her face. “Kidnapped?”
She moved her gaze to a white bird perched on a slab of beechwood. “Shortly after I left the Grosvenor Hotel, I was taken by who I think were Davenport men.”
“How do ye ken?”
“They had New York accents and spoke about a place called Five Points. They also said…” Stomach roiling, she squeezed her eyes shut. Spit it out.
“What did they say?” he urged.
She cleared her throat. “That Mr. Asheford and his fiancée wanted me dead.”
Elias’s face fell.
It reminded her of the time she told him she was from the future. His expression had been comical then, but now it was unnerving.
“And ye believed them?”
“How could I not after everything that happened or the things that were said?”
“No, Eva.” Elias rushed to her. “I ken Henry was a bastard for leaving, but he loved ye, lass. That man loves faithfully and will stop at nothing to fight fiercely for the ones he loves. I dinnae believe he would ever do such a thing.”
She stared at Elias, stunned by his sudden declaration in Henry’s defence. She wanted to argue against him. She wanted to agree with him.
“It had to be a ruse,” he continued.
“It doesn’t matter whether it was or not.”
“But it does,” he said, holding her shoulders. “How do ye expect to ever move on when ye ignore the truth?”
She wriggled free from his touch. “For God’s sake, I was kidnapped, beaten and drugged. Moving on isn’t as simple as finding the truth.”
His face turned white. “Beaten and drugged? Did they … did they do anything more?”
Her breath was jittery. “I don’t know. I can barely remember any of it. It’s why, it’s why”—her shoulders fell and she lowered her head—“it’s why I struggle with moving on because not even I know the extent of what happened that day.”
Elias’s face was darkening by the second. “Christ,” he breathed. “Mac na galla … bastards.”
He paced back and forth, his cheeks reddening as he rambled on in Gaelic. When he stopped and looked at her, a pitiful expression marked his face.
“Eva,” he groaned. “I am so sorry.”
In one long stride, he reached her and pulled her into his arms.
She dropped her head against his chest. His racing heart oddly soothed her. Having partly confessed her story, she felt relieved. More importantly, she felt safe.
“Ye said these men belonged to the Davenports?” Elias said.
“It’s what I assumed.”
“So, Henry married into organized crime.”
Eva squeezed her eyes shut. “I think so, yes.”
“What a bampot,” he muttered.
“What does that even mean?”
“An idiot.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I guess I’m also a bampot for what I’m about to say.”
“Say what ye need to say, lass. I will understand.”
“Do you remember when we talked about Henry being forced into marriage by his dad? As much as I hate him for going along with it so willingly, a small part of me can’t help but worry about him.”
“Henry made his decision,” he said.
Heart aching, her fingers clutched at his shirt. Even if Henry had nothing to do with her kidnapping, in the end he had made the decision to abandon her.
“I feel so broken by all the confusion,” she whispered.
Elias’s fingers swept beneath her chin, and he gently lifted her head. He smiled sadly. “Och, my wee dealan-dè. Although yer wings may be tattered, ye can still fly. Yer not broken, far from it.”
Her lower lip trembled. “But I no longer know what to believe.”
“Dinnae overthink it. Speak if ye must, cry if ye need to, laugh when ye want. Time heals all wounds, even tattered wings.”
She shut her eyes, nodding. Tears trickled down her face, and Elias wiped them with his thumbs. Something tugged at her heart. She wanted to stay in his embrace a little longer.
If she were his butterfly, would he stick her with a pin and prop her on a pedestal? Would that be so bad? It would offer her some security, protection, hope of a good life. As much as she wanted to be free, she still needed to think of her future as a woman in the nineteenth century.
“Will you give me another chance?” she whispered, not quite understanding what she meant. Was she asking for a chance at love or friendship? A chance to start over? Whatever hesitation she felt, it didn’t matter. She had uttered the words, and it was too late to take them back.
He looked down at her with furrowed brows. After a few seconds, he planted a kiss on her forehead. “I would give ye a lifetime of chances, lass.”