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She turned her head and saw the familiar face. Angular jaw; rounded, mousy nose; and even in the blinking starlight, the unmistakable blue eyes. Her brown hair was plaited and strewn over one shoulder. She wore a gown, with a slew of petticoats giving the illusion of much wider hips than she had, and much more expensive than the attire of her counterpart.

“Abigail.” Tessa felt her mouth move and heard her own voice, but didn’t recognize the name. She didn’t question it, though.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jamie/Abigail said. “But I thought one of the watchmen spotted me, so I hid myself away until I was certain he was gone.”

“It’s alright, you’re here now.” They clasped hands. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course. If we made it to Jamestown, there would be no way for us to—”

The ship groaned as it crested over a wave, and the women clung to each other as it righted itself. Abigail held Verity’s gaze firmly.

“The men have bought and paid for us to be their wives. There would be no way for us to be together.” She reached up and cupped Verity’s cheek. “I would rather depart this world together than face a lifetime apart.”

Verity blinked. A tear rolled down her cheek, but Abigail wiped it away. Hands firmly together, they stepped up to the side of the ship, climbing to stand on the edge. When it lurched again, they held onto a rope hanging above them from the mast. Abigail squeezed her hand.

“One last kiss?” she asked.

Verity yanked her in and captured her lips, swaying to keep their balance as the ocean breeze whipped around their skirts.

“I love you,” Verity whispered.

Abigail replied with a watery smile.

With one final nod, they stepped off together and plunged into the abyss.

“Tessa?”

Lila’s voice sounded as if it was coming from across a football pitch. Tessa couldn’t find her voice with the goose egg-sized lump in her throat.

“Tessa, I see some turmoil on your face. We can stop here, or we can continue after a moment.”

“I’m alright,” Tessa croaked out, without opening her eyes. “I want to go on.” After a beat, she asked, “Am I meant to be telling you everything I see?”

“Only if you’re comfortable. I’m just here to guide you.” Lila cleared her throat. “Take a few more deep breaths for me and let the images come forward again. Allow them to be familiar. Allow yourself to step back in time. . . ”

Tessa let out a long exhale as she walked through the hallway of a mansion. The place was eerily quiet as she made her way downstairs. In the foyer beneath the grand chandelier, the other servants were gathered, heads together and speaking hushed voices. The housekeeper, Mrs. Posner, whirled around at the sound of approaching steps.

“Aisling!” she cried, eyes on Tessa. “I thought for sure they would take you with them!”

Aisling/Tessa’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“The family’s gone,” one of the footmen chimed in. “Took off this morning with nothing but a few trunks.”

Her heart dropped to her knees. She stepped back and clutched onto the railing to stay upright, images of Kitty and their time together surging to the front of her mind. That sweet, perfect smile, sparkling blue eyes, her soft brown hair that Aisling never minded being in her face when she held her at night.

“It. . . it can’t be. . . ” she said shakily. “She—I mean, they wouldn’t!”

Mrs. Posner shook her head. “The master knew the Revolution was coming this way, but I never believed they would abandon us all.”

“Even the governess,” the footman said with a disdainful nod in Aisling’s direction, but she wasn’t paying attention.

It wasn’t possible. Kitty had spoken words of love. They were planning to head out west, or to Mexico if they could make it. Anything to escape the fighting between the colonies and the English and find their peace together. Aisling turned, lifted her skirts, and fled back up the stairs, heading for the mistress’s bedroom.

She burst through the door and caught her breath, searching wildly around for any sign that Kitty had stayed behind. But all the evidence proved what the others were saying. Haphazardly open dresser drawers with garments hanging out. The jewelry on the vanity was gone, appearing to be swiped off by the looks of what was left behind. Aisling put her hand to the unmade bed, and she found it cool. It had been empty for hours.

Tears stung her eyes. As she was about to leave, she spotted it. There on the mantel, pressed between two books, was an envelope.

She flew over and plucked it out. Her name was on the front in Kitty’s neat script. She tore it open and yanked out the parchment inside. It didn’t say much.