Page 22 of Every Hour until Then (Timeless #5)

22

London, England November 6, 1938

There was a lot occupying my mind as I worked on the exhibit in the basement of Lancaster house. Austen’s words in the carriage only intensified my anxiety and fears for Mary. But it wasn’t just 1888 that concerned me. Papa’s trip to Berlin was weighing on my mind, as were all the little details I still needed to include in the exhibit. This was my final opportunity to put the finishing touches on the project I had come to London to create.

A dozen people worked alongside me, placing artifacts in glass cases, repositioning signs, touching up a crack that had developed in the facade of Buck’s Row, and cleaning the room. I’d spent the earlier part of my day answering questions from the public and the press. This was the first exhibit about Jack the Ripper, and people were curious.

“Are you certain you want to display the pictures of the victims?” Calan asked me one more time as he approached me with a wooden crate. We’d had the pictures framed and were planning to place them in a spot that could be overlooked if people didn’t want to see the images. The first four were pictures of the victims’ faces after death and were not shocking. The fifth was horrific and showed Mary Jane Kelly in her familiar room, but the body was so mangled and deformed, it was impossible to recognize.

Every time I looked at the picture, I had to disassociate with it. It wasn’t my sister. It was a person who had not yet been murdered—and would not be murdered, because I was going to stop it from happening.

“Let’s do as we originally planned.” I told him. “We’ll place a black cloth over the photo of the last victim and tell people that they can look at their own discretion.”

Calan nodded and left my side.

I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen after November 9th. Would that picture just disappear? I wasn’t sure how it would all happen. Would everything be different when I woke up in 1938 after saving my sister? Would I be the only person who knew a different history? When I talked to Calan and Sir Rothschild, would their memory of Mary Jane Kelly have disappeared?

I had no idea, but I was determined to find out.

Sunshine streamed in through the windows at the top of the room, offering us good light to work. Tomorrow in this path would be the official grand opening, and we needed to be ready. Even if I had to work until midnight, I wouldn’t leave the museum until every piece of the exhibit was in place.

Sir Rothschild entered the room, and I stole a look to see his response. He had taken a risk in asking me to help Calan, and I wanted him to be pleased.

“Was this what you had envisioned?” I asked as I left the letter case where Jack’s famous correspondence was displayed under glass for the world to see. “Does it meet your expectations?”

Sir Rothschild shook his head as he surveyed the room, a smile tilting up his mustache. “My dear Miss Voland, you and Calan have exceeded my wildest expectations. This goes above and beyond what I had hoped for and envisioned for this exhibit. I cannot thank you enough for putting your life in Washington, DC, on hold to be part of this project.”

“It was an honor,” I assured him.

“I almost didn’t ask you to come,” he said as he turned to me. “But there was this small voice in my head that kept prompting me. As if this project needed you. And I believe it did.”

My lips parted as I realized the truth of his words. If he hadn’t invited me to put together this exhibit, I would never have learned the truth about Mary and I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to save her. This entire time, I’d been upset with God that He was making me choose, but until this moment, I hadn’t realized that it was a blessing in disguise. I had a choice because He had allowed me to have a choice.

“Thank you for believing in me and giving me a chance,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “I will always treasure my memories here.”

For more reasons than he could possibly know.

“I’ll let you get back to your work,” he said as he patted my shoulder a bit awkwardly. “It looks like things will be ready for the grand opening tomorrow. And I’m hoping that this new exhibit draws visitors to the art gallery to see Mr. Baird’s paintings, as well. It is my special privilege to find such spectacular talent and share it with the world.” He smiled at me. “You, included.”

“Thank you.”

As he left to inspect the exhibit, I thought about Austen’s paintings. Whenever I missed him, I went into the gallery to study his work. It was almost as if I was getting to know a new side of him. It was another facet of his personality that intrigued me. I wanted to know more about his painting, but we’d both been so preoccupied with the plans we were making for Mary, we hadn’t talked much about his work.

“Kathryn.”

I turned at the sound of Mama’s voice as she entered the room. It was the first time she’d come to Lancaster House, and I smiled at the unexpected visit.

But the look on her face made me pause. She was pale, and her eyes were glossed over with fear.

My heart began to hammer as I rushed across the room and reached for her hands. “What’s wrong? Is it Papa?”

She latched on to me, as if her knees were about to give way, and held on tight. “Yes—oh, Kathryn.” She began to weep, and my worst fears jumped into my mind and heart.

People turned our way, curiosity and concern drawing their attention.

I wanted to have privacy, so I led Mama out of the room and across the hall. The basement was empty since we’d closed it off to visitors while we finished the Jack the Ripper exhibit. I found a quiet corner and faced her.

“What happened?” I asked, both wanting and not wanting to know. “Where is Papa?”

It took Mama a moment to compose herself, and she finally lifted her chin to face me. I had always known her to be a strong, thoughtful, and brave woman. But when it came to Papa and her children, her vulnerability showed through.

“They don’t know where he is,” she said, her voice quivering. “Colonel Lindbergh called me personally, just an hour ago. I came as soon as I could pull myself together.”

“What do you mean, they don’t know where he is? Where could Papa be?”

“He has been with Colonel Lindbergh and Major Truman Smith for most of his visit,” Mama said, “but those two men were invited to a private meeting with other military attaché, and your father said that he would spend the day touring Berlin on his own.” She paused as she swallowed. “They were supposed to meet for supper last night, and when your father didn’t show, they assumed he was ill or indisposed. But when they went to his room to collect him this morning to fly to a factory in Dessau, he was not in his room, and there was no evidence that he had ever returned to the hotel yesterday.” Her voice broke, and she lifted her handkerchief to her mouth as she tried to compose herself.

I wrapped my arms around her, trying to make sense of what she’d said. Papa had never disappeared before. He was responsible and trustworthy. If he said he was going to meet Colonel Lindbergh, then he would have met him. If he was sick or something prevented him, he would have sent word. “Have they checked the hospitals?” I asked.

“They have been looking for him for hours. The American Embassy has been put on full alert, and Colonel Lindbergh assures me that they will exhaust every measure to find your father.” Her tears began. “Oh, Kathryn. I knew something horrible was going to happen. I shouldn’t have let him go. It was madness to think it was safe to be in Germany at this time.”

“You had no way of knowing,” I tried to assure her. “No one else went missing. It’s not as if a whole airplane of Americans was taken out by the Germans. Perhaps he was walking around the city and there was an accident and at this very moment, he’s phoning Colonel Lindbergh to tell him what happened.”

“An accident?” Mama asked, her eyes widening. “What if he was hit by an automobile? What if—”

“You can’t play that game,” I said. “We can’t jump to conclusions. We will go insane if we think of all the possibilities. There must be a logical reason that he didn’t return to his hotel room last night.”

But even as I tried to reassure my mama, I couldn’t think of any logical reason Papa would disappear. It didn’t make sense. A pit in the center of my gut told me that something was dreadfully wrong.

“May we help?” Calan asked as he appeared just outside the room with Sir Rothschild beside him.

I took a deep breath, not wanting Mama to see how worried I felt. “My father has gone missing,” I told them. “He had a free day in Berlin yesterday and was supposed to meet with Colonel Lindbergh last night, but he didn’t show. And then this morning, when he didn’t arrive for their flight to a factory, they began to look for him. His room was undisturbed, and no one knows where he went.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Sir Rothschild said as he entered the room. “You need to take your mother home, Miss Voland.”

“But—”

“We will oversee the rest of the exhibit,” Calan interrupted. “Your plans are in perfect order, and we shouldn’t have any trouble executing them. Right now, you are needed somewhere more important.”

Mama was in shock, and I knew they were right. She needed me more than the museum staff did. I wouldn’t be much help to them, anyway. Not in my current state of mind.

“Perhaps you’re right.” I nodded as I put my arm around Mama to lead her out of the museum.

“Call us the moment you hear something,” Sir Rothschild said.

“We’ll be praying for all of you,” Calan added.

“Thank you.” I tried to smile, to be strong for Mama, but I couldn’t force myself to pretend.

We would need all the prayers we could get.

The moment Lady Astor heard about Papa, she came to Berkeley Square and spent the afternoon with us, calling anyone and everyone she knew who might have authority to help. Lord Astor arrived shortly before supper, letting us know he had done the same. None of us could eat a thing.

Calan arrived around eight to let me know that the exhibit was finished and ready for the grand opening tomorrow. I was still in shock and realized I hadn’t thought of the exhibit once.

“Are you hungry?” I asked him as we stood in the front hall. “No one touched supper, and I’d hate to see it go to waste.”

“I’ve already eaten,” he said, his face filled with concern. “Have you heard anything?”

I shook my head, glancing up the stairs where Mama was sitting in the parlor with the Astors. “Nothing from Germany, though Mama received a call from the US secretary of state today, Cordell Hull. They are aware of the situation and doing all they can to ensure Papa is returned home safely.”

“The secretary of state?” Calan asked, his eyes widening. “Do they think someone abducted your father?”

“No one knows, but they are taking his disappearance very seriously. My father is a brigadier general in the US Army Air Corps. He was a flight instructor during the Great War and was instrumental in forming the Air Corps in the 1920s. He not only has classified knowledge, but he’s also a high-ranking officer. The world is on the brink of war with Hitler. Something like this is a very serious situation and doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”

“Who might have taken him, if that’s what happened?” Calan asked, quietly. “What would they gain?”

“I don’t know.” I crossed my arms, wanting something to do . I hated all this sitting around and waiting. I was half tempted to fly to Berlin to look for Papa myself.

Calan placed his hand on my arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know your father will come home safely, Kathryn. Don’t give up hope.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t worry about the grand opening tomorrow. We can manage—”

“I will be there,” I promised. “Papa would want me there.”

“Only if you’re certain.”

I tried to smile, knowing it was the right thing, though I wasn’t sure how I would get through the event if Papa wasn’t found yet. “I am certain.”

Calan left, and as I closed the door behind him—about to face Mama and the Astors again—I longed for Austen. I wanted his reassurance. I wanted to share this burden with him because I knew that he would do everything in his power to help me if he could.

I returned to the parlor, where Mama sat on the chair, another handkerchief in hand. She’d gone through six of them already. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her face was pale. Even through her tears, I had been impressed with how composed she’d remained all day, though I knew she was a mess inside.

“How is everything at the museum?” she asked me as I took a seat on the chair next to her.

“Good.” I smiled. “Calan has everything under control.”

She nodded, and I knew she hadn’t really been listening, but I didn’t blame her.

The telephone rang, and all of us sat up straight. We had brought an extension into the parlor earlier in the afternoon, and Mama reached for it now.

“Hello?” she asked as she sat forward on the edge of her chair, grabbing my hand. “Yes, this is Mrs. Voland.”

She was quiet for several seconds, but it was impossible to read the expression on her face.

I glanced at the Astors, who looked back at me, just as eager and nervous to hear who had called. Lady Astor clasped her hands together so tightly, her knuckles were white.

“Yes,” Mama said, nodding before she swallowed. “I understand.” Her voice cracked, and my heart fell. Mama did not look relieved. Whatever she was hearing was not instilling any confidence in her. “Thank you. I will keep the phone close by.”

Her hand shook as she slowly hung up the receiver, but before I could ask her who had called, she lowered her head and began to weep.

“What is it, Mama?” I asked, leaving my chair to kneel in front of her. “Tell me.”

Mama took a moment and then inhaled a deep breath before she lifted her head. “That was Major Smith, calling from Berlin. They have not found your father, but they have enough evidence to suggest that he was abducted.” She paused again as her breath shuddered out of her body. “No one has come forward with any demands, and the German government is claiming that they have nothing to do with his disappearance. They are assisting the American Embassy with their investigation.”

“Who would take Papa?” I asked, angry and frustrated and afraid.

“They aren’t sure at this time,” Mama said, “but they believe it’s an extremist group. They won’t know until they’re contacted and demands are made.” She took another deep breath. “Major Smith has every confidence that your father will remain unharmed. They do not believe this was a random criminal act. Someone took your father with the intent to get something. And until we know what that is, they believe your father will be held captive.”

“This is ludicrous,” Lord Astor said as he stood and began to pace.

“It’s—it’s—” Lady Astor shook her head, clearly at a loss for words. “What I do know is that the United States and England will do everything in their power to ensure that Luc is brought home safely.”

Mama nodded as she wiped her cheeks with the handkerchief. “Thank you.” She rose on shaking legs and said, “I hope you don’t mind. I believe I’ll turn in for the night. Major Smith said that he doesn’t think he’ll have any more news for me this evening, and I need to keep up my strength.”

“Of course we don’t mind,” Lady Astor said as she, too, rose. “We’ll take our leave, but do not hesitate to call us, even if it’s the middle of the night. We will be here as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.” Mama tried to look stoical as she left the parlor, but I could hear her begin to weep as soon as she entered the hall and went up the stairs.

“We are so sorry, Kathryn,” Lady Astor said as she joined me near the chair. “Please know that we are here for you, no matter what you need.”

“Thank you.” I accepted a hug from her and a smile from Lord Astor.

“We’re only a phone call away,” she said as we left the parlor and walked down the stairs to the front hall, where their wraps were waiting on a coat-tree near the door.

As soon as they were gone, I went up the stairs and into my bedroom, where I stared out the window at Berkeley Square, shadowed under nightfall. I didn’t want to bother Mama, who was in her room across the hall. She would need some time to herself to process everything that had happened. Earlier, we had called my sister, Lydia, in California, but if there was no news to share, it didn’t pay to call her again. Hopefully we would have something good to tell her in the morning.

What I really wanted was to go to sleep so I could wake up in 1888 and tell Austen what had happened. I needed his warm embrace to chase away my fears. But it wouldn’t be midnight for several hours, and I couldn’t cross over until then.

After I put on my nightgown, washed my face, and brushed my teeth, I padded across the hallway to Mama’s door and knocked lightly.

“Come in,” Mama said.

I opened the door and found her lying on her bed. She was still wearing her dress and hadn’t changed into a nightgown. She was holding one of Papa’s nightshirts to her face, though it looked as if her tears had stopped.

I’d never seen her so distressed. She worried about us, but she was always our strength in times of trouble. It shook me to my core to see her this upset.

Slowly, she seemed to gather herself and sat up, holding her arms out to me, beckoning me to join her.

I didn’t hesitate but climbed into her bed.

And, for the first time since we’d heard the news, I allowed myself to cry.

Mama held me until I fell asleep.