Page 5 of A Flicker in Time (Mine Through Time #2)

Chapter 4

M iss Willburne stared, jaw dropped, at the two-story atrium spanning the length of the department store. Shops rose on each side, and a plated glass roof lighted the place. “It’s a mall. I had no idea y’all had malls.”

Sylvia resisted the urge to instruct her to stop gawking. “Do you not have department stores where you come from?”

“Oh, we’ve got them. We’ve got better than this. I just didn’t expect you’d have them, too.”

Sylvia highly doubted they had “better” but let it go. They had a job to do. Mr. Marshall said they would be ready to leave Boston first thing tomorrow; for today, he had business to conclude, and Sylvia had offered to take Miss Willburne shopping for the most urgent supplies. Mr. Marshall had provided her with a small budget that would suffice for a few simple dresses.

“Come. We need to find a garment store.” She led the way on one side of the atrium, scanning the shop windows as they moved past. The department store in Boston was impressive, she had to admit. Jewelers, millinery, knick-knacks, home decor, textiles—everything a woman should need. When it came to dresses, Sylvia wasn’t the one to make use of ready-made clothing, but with their time and budget constraints, they couldn’t afford to take Miss Willburne to a proper dressmaker.

Besides, if she’d wanted not to lose all of her clothing, she should’ve paid for luggage protection on the train.

“And there are restaurants and movie theaters inside, too …” Miss Willburne rambled on, trailing a few steps behind. Half the time, Sylvia didn’t even understand what the woman was saying. How could a gentleman like Mr. Marshall have an acquaintance—worse, family!—like this? It did say something about his kind and charitable nature, though. And she was much in need of that right now.

“Funny, it’s like a mix between a living room and a mall,” Miss Willburne remarked.

At least here, she was safe. Department stores were a women’s paradise. Ladies lounged on the settees spread all through the atrium on plush, oriental carpets. More of them congregated at a restaurant in the center of the building. No chaperones needed, no men allowed—the only ones Sylvia had seen were the guards at the entrance.

And it was loud and lively enough to overpower her memories.

Sylvia paused at a window displaying several fashionable outfits.

Miss Willburne stopped next to her. “Wow. That one’s pretty.” The evening dress in question was a beautiful sculpture of a golden yellow bodice and artfully draped overskirt with a long train and a dusky pink skirt with pleats at the bottom. Nothing to rival Sylvia’s gowns from the House of Worth, but yes—it was pretty. The pink would clash with Sylvia’s hair, but it would suit Miss Willburne. Sylvia judged she was one of the very few people who could pull off a pink and yellow gown.

“It is not what we’re after,” she said. “You need essentials, hardly an evening gown. There is little chance an adequate opportunity for its use will present itself on the train.”

“Whatever you say,” Miss Willburne muttered. “The waist is too small, anyway.”

“That only depends on the tightness of your stays.” Did she not know that? Miss Willburne had the dressing knowledge of a child—a very small one—yet she had to be Sylvia’s age.

“The—oh, the corset? Yeah, don’t have that. So we’ll have to find something that fits otherwise.”

“You don’t …” Sylvia examined her companion again. Hmm. Things did look a little loose under that blouse. “Do you have any undergarments at all?”

“Uh, not exactly in the common sense.”

“Good Lord. Were you raised in a barn?”

“Hey, I was raised just fine.” Miss Willburne put her hands on her hips. “Unlike you, it seems.”

Sylvia huffed but stopped herself from objecting further. The longer she argued, the more time she’d have to spend here, with Miss Willburne. “Let’s get you some undergarments first. It will leave less money for the dresses, but we should still be able to get one walking dress in.” At Miss Willburne’s blank look, she added, “The type you’ll most likely need. Suited for travel and going out in the public.”

“Sure, Lady. Lead the way.”

Sylvia sighed and trudged on. “And please, do not call me that. Sylvia, if you must. ”

“Then clearly, I must,” Miss Willburne responded, again employing that annoying teasing tone.

Patience. It’s only for a few days. Then she’d be with James, and she’d never have to see Miss Willburne again.

“And it’s Emily, by the way. ‘Miss Willburne’ makes me think I’m an old lady.”

See Emily again. And, to be honest, she had expressed her discomfort with traveling alone with Mr. Marshall. Not that she had anything against him—he seemed like a perfect gentleman—but Sylvia would still feel odd. The company of another woman, regardless of her status, was preferable.

They located an undergarments seller, and after picking a suitable corset for Emily—one of those lovely new steam-molded models—she disappeared into the fitting room. Sylvia hovered nearby, examining a dainty chemise bordered with lace. What a shame she had to abandon so many of her clothes. But the priority was to leave; leave before he came back and saw her shaken and knew something was wrong, leave because she couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore—and that meant grabbing the one valise she’d already packed.

A sharp scream rose from the atrium. Sylvia started, pressing a hand to her chest. Sir Richard, he knew, he’d found her— no . Not a scream, just a high-pitched giggle of a lady passing the shop, laughing with her friend. Sylvia let go of the chemise she was crumpling with her clenched fist, and forced her heartbeat back to normal.

“Hey,” came Emily’s voice from the fitting room. “Can you help me for a hot second? I think I’m done, but I don’t know if I have to do something with the strings …”

Sylvia slipped into the compartment. “Have you never worn a corset before? ”

“Nope. Well, once, but it was different. This one’s a lot curvier.” Emily’s green eyes bore into hers. “You okay? You’re looking a little pale. I mean, pale even for you.”

“I’m fine.” Sylvia motioned for her to turn around and twiddled with the strings. “I’ve never heard of anyone who’d never worn a corset.” One thing was to skip it when wearing a tea gown, and another was to never wear it at all. What about the support? “You’re not one of those bohemians, are you?”

“Nah. That would be Queen.”

“I’m rather certain Her Majesty is not a bohemian. There. All done.”

Emily turned around and wiggled a little. “That’s it? It doesn’t even feel bad. A little itchy on certain parts …”

“Only because it’s new. It will adjust to your form. In a few weeks, you won’t feel it at all.”

“I thought I was supposed to be all squeezed in.”

“For an evening or a ball gown, perhaps. But certainly not for a day dress.”

“Ha! Go figure.” Emily planted her hands at her slightly accented corseted hips and gave her a smile. “Thanks.”

Sylvia couldn’t prevent a tiny smile of her own. It’s been so long since she’d had a friend. A proper friend. Ever since James had gone and messed it all up. This strange creature could, if not a friend, perhaps at least make an amicable companion.

“Okay, now for the pants,” Emily said. “And please tell me they don’t have a hole in the crotch anymore.”

Or perhaps not.

** *

After paying a visit to the Boston Tech’s lab to get the necessary supplies for Eggy—was that what he was calling it now?—Will skipped across the street and headed for the Rogers building and the office of his former professor. The extending campus was quiet in the early evening, and Will only met a small group of students as he passed under the massive pillared entrance. Two stories up, he strode the length of the freshly painted hallway until he reached the corner office. With a light knock and a “Come in” summons, he entered.

“Professor,” he greeted the man sitting behind the desk, then glanced over to the other occupant of the room, a girl perching on the edge of the desk. “Miss Ralkin.”

“Hello, Mr. Marshall.” The girl gave him a broad smile, appearing somewhat alien on her too pale face. She leaned to Professor Ralkin and pecked him on the cheek. “See, Papa, you are always busy. But I’ll leave you to it.” She stood and gathered her purse. “Miss Kelstone will be waiting, anyway. Just don’t be late for supper.”

“I won’t, darling.” Ralkin smiled at her before she turned, but the smile didn’t quite overcome the sadness in his eyes.

“Good day, Mr. Marshall.”

“To you too, Miss Ralkin,” Will responded as she passed. Up close enough, the slight dark circles beneath her eyes were just noticeable.

“The way she orders me around, one would think she’s fift y , not fifteen,” Ralkin said as his daughter closed the door behind her. He straightened a stack of documents and leaned back in the chair.

“How is she? ”

“Well enough.” Ralkin’s tone indicated just the opposite. “The doctor says not much can be done at this point. Penny, on the other hand … if there is such a thing as mind over matter, my daughter is the specialist in it.”

Will nodded, knowing not to prod deeper. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, boy. The human body is the one machine we can’t engineer to perfection. Now, what did you need me for?” Ralkin rested his hands on the stomach and intertwined his fingers.

Will took the chair by the desk. “I’d like to ask you for a week of leave. I know the research team was supposed to begin the next week—”

“So it does. And I thought you wanted to be on it.”

“I do! But an urgent matter has come forward.”

“What matter?”

Will bit his lower lip. “I have to go to Denver. For personal reasons.”

“A bit late for the rush, aren’t you?” Ralkin said with a trace of amusement.

“It’s not that. It will take me ten days, at most. Once I get back, I promise to make up for all the lost hours. I won’t even leave the lab.”

Ralkin ran a finger along his beard. “Let us hope such drastic measures won’t be necessary.”

“Does that mean …”

“I’m expecting you back in a fortnight. I think we can afford one week without you.”

“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

Ralkin nodded, a sign that Will was dismissed. “And if you see Penny milling about downstairs, tell her I’m coming!” he added as Will was leaving .

That went well. Will had been looking forward to being on a college research team for months. With Boston Tech slowly rising in reputation, it was as good a starting point for a career as any—in a year or two, he might be working for Westinghouse, or Edison, even.

Wait until Father hears about it.

First, though, he had to get to Denver. Tomorrow couldn’t come sooner. He hoped Emily and Lady Ross got everything done without a hitch.

Lady Ross. Lady Sylvia Ross.

He shook his head, willing the thought away. It couldn’t be her. He’d only seen the name once, when Emily thrust the family tree in front of him, and he’d gotten a glimpse before he’d realized what it was. And he only caught the first name.

It was a coincidence. Plenty of Sylvias in this world.

Including one that would become his wife.

He could make certain. Now, he had the ability. He could ask Emily or even travel a few years into the future, see for himself …

The familiar constricting feeling grabbed his chest, and he half-slammed, half-leaned on a wall, closed his eyes, and tried to calm his breathing. No, you’re not doing that. You don’t know what you’ll see, what you’ll find out, and you’ll only mess it up. No misusing time travel. His lungs felt as if they were about to burst and, at the same time, so compressed they couldn’t take on more air. Will repeated the mantra over and over— no time travel, no time travel —until the feeling abated.

He’d already done enough by bringing Emily here. That was necessary, and besides, he owed her. She deserved an explanation and a working watch. She’d also welcomed the mission, so he didn’t need to feel bad about his intervention in her life. No, Emily would be just fine .

As for Will, he’d tread very, very carefully until this whole matter was over.

***

“And she asked me if I was raised in a barn. Would you believe it?” Emily glanced to where Sylvia was arguing with the porter further down the platform—she’d caught a few words about luggage protection. Emily and Will stood near the train’s first-class car door, waiting for Sylvia to join them. “Why, because I don’t hold my pinky out when I drink tea?” She made an exaggerated motion with her pinky.

“You don’t drink tea,” Will said.

“Keep adding to the list, would you?”

“Look.” Will held her by the arm and turned them away from Sylvia. “I know you two are very different …”

“No, no, Gramps. This isn’t a ‘me’ problem. It’s her. If she went back to my time—I’m telling you, everyone would have a problem with her behavior.”

“But that’s exactly how it works, isn’t it? Times change. And she is a product of her time. This time.”

“So are you, and you’re not spouting nonsense about tanning being bad!”

Will sighed and looked back at Sylvia pouting at the porter. “The era itself is not everything. I wasn’t born into a noble family with stricter and harder expectations for me. I’m not a woman—nobody will care if I go on a walk alone or say a curse word.”

“As if you’d ever say a curse word.”

A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile—brief and slightly sad. “And, above all, I’ve had the benefit of time travel. I’ve learned many things from it. You have taught me many things.”

Emily smiled, too. Ignoring their charge, it was so nice to have Will back. One would think he’d be too preachy for her, but somehow, he filled a friendship spot she never knew she needed.

Also, now he could finally explain a few more things about his family. Emily opened her mouth to ask, when—

“We’re ready to go.” Sylvia painted herself next to them. “Is this the car?”

Sylvia’sWill gave her a polite nod and extended his arm toward the door, letting her take the lead. At least this one good thing came from Sylvia’s snootiness—she insisted on riding first class, and honestly, Emily didn’t mind. If she was already riding a train a hundred years in the past, she could at least have a good experience.

They had a private cabin, with two upholstered benches facing each other and a table between them. While Sylvia looked around, Emily and Will sat down, each on their own bench by the window.

“Pretty comfortable,” Emily said.

Sylvia cleared her throat.

“So, how does it work—do they serve food to us, or do we have to go get it?” Emily continued.

“There is a separate dining car—” Will started, but was interrupted by another of Sylvia’s coughs.

Finally, Emily looked at her.

“I need to sit by the window, or I might be unwell,” Sylvia said.

“Of course. My apologies,” Will said, immediately moving away.

“Actually, over there.” Sylvia pointed to Emily’s bench. “I cannot face the opposite direction we’re moving in for the same reason. ”

Emily narrowed her eyes. “How do you know which direction we’ll be going in?”

Sylvia folded her arms. “Are you questioning me?”

“I have a younger sister. I know all the window seat tricks.”

“You think I’m performing a trick?”

“I don’t think, I know .”

“Emily,” Will said, a slight warning in his tone.

Emily spread her arms in objection. “If you want this side by the window, why don’t you go get yourself another cabin?”

“There’s room enough for all of us,” Will said.

Some other time, Emily might appreciate him trying to mediate. Or she’d appreciate it if he tried to mediate in her favor. Couldn’t he see what Sylvia was doing?

She sighed. Remember the mission. Gotta get Eggy from her. “Fine,” she barked, scooted away from the window, and stood eye-to-eye with Sylvia. “Enjoy your premium seat, Lady.” She looked at Will. “I’ll go get some breakfast in the dining car.”

He only nodded before she left.

She walked down the narrow hallway, passing other cabins until she located the dining car. Only a few other passengers were present—a couple at one table and a man reading a newspaper at another. Emily sat down— by the window —and waited. Will would join her sooner or later; he had to be polite to Sylvia, but that didn’t mean he had to babysit her for the entire journey.

A server appeared, and she ordered whatever was recommended on the menu, then thrummed her fingers on the pristine white tablecloth.

A few more minutes passed.

No Will .

Maybe there was a pre-determined amount of time he had to stay in the cabin before it was polite to leave. Do some chit-chat first.

Food was brought forward; eggs and bacon and some sausages, along with a pot of coffee.

Still no Will.

Emily took a few bites, lacking the zeal despite her stomach welcoming the food.

He wasn’t coming, was he?

When, after her trip to DC the previous year, days and weeks and months passed without Will showing up again, she thought she’d lost him forever. They were supposed to be a dynamic time-traveling duo. He’d be the good cop, she’d be the bad cop, and they’d go on adventures together.

When he finally came back now, she thought this would be an adventure. Some good old grandfather-granddaughter, time-traveling buddies bonding. Instead, she’d barely talked to him since she got here. And she had so many things to ask him. About his life; how his studies went, and what he’d do at Boston Tech. And everything about his family; how his parents were, if they often moved between France and the States; if she’d done everything right back in DC …

So many questions. But she couldn’t ask them while Lady was here—or while he, apparently, refused to leave her side.

Emily looked out the window at the buildings and trees that whizzed by faster and faster and clenched her jaw, trying to prevent the tears from burning in her eyes.