Page 37 of The Girl Out of Time
Perhaps the book the duke had lent her—Miranda Stormcliffe’s secret work,The Visitor in Scarlet—had something to do with her improved mood. It was about a woman, called Lady Scarlet, who traveled through time, able to pop in and out of any era she wished, on a hunt for a hidden treasure she called Starry Night (the book was written in the 1700s, so Emmeline hoped that was of no offense to Mr. Van Gogh).
It was a fascinating, if strange story, probably not as popular as Mrs. Stormcliffe’s other works, which explained why Emmeline hadn’t seen it before. And yes, perhaps she was getting inspiration from the wrong source. She’d read novels featuring time travel before, and they were always so bizarre, featuring either complicated machinery or some hand-wavingmethod. This one, though, felt comforting, familiar. If only Lady Scarlet could tell Emmeline how to travel with precision. It wasn’t as if she was going to invent a time machine. Her father was the engineer, not her.
And not that Father would ever invent a time machine, either.
For Lady Scarlet, it was easy. She only needed to think of the time and place she wished to be. But when Emmeline thought of Maria and opening a passage to her, nothing happened. She did get a headache, eventually—but it was a regular one, a result of hours of straining herself.
Perhaps this was the one time a fictional bookcouldn’tteach her a lesson.
Aside from her failed attempts—or precisely because of them—it was essential to have a contingency plan for when she’d inevitably be found out. She’d need somewhere to go, most likely alone, considering Leon—Theo—didn’t know her anymore.
And the only option she could think of was family.
So she penned a letter to the current Viscount Haverston and headed to the town to post it. The man at the post office weighed it in his hands, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a hefty one, miss. That will triple the price.”
“What do you mean?” It didn’t seem heavy to her at all; just a paper enclosed in an envelope of her own making, since she didn’t find any in the house.
“Triple paper sheet, and it going to London, then to Bath …” The man glanced at a chart lying on the counter. “That would be three shillings.”
How much was a shilling?
“I’m only warning you in case the recipient can’t afford the payment.”
“So I don’t need to pay?” One would think a postal system in the past would’ve beenlesscomplicated.
“Well, no.” The man narrowed his eyes. “All I’m saying is, the receiver could reject the letter—”
“Yes, I understand.”Darn it.The viscount might be suspicious of mail coming from a random stranger. What if he rejected it because it was too expensive? “Can I pay instead? But I don’t have three shillings—”
The man sighed. “Miss, if you can’t pay, why are you offering to?”
“Would you take this?” She pulled out the silver locket hanging around her neck.
“This is not a pawnshop.”
“Please. I need to send this letter.” She gave him the kindest smile she could muster, but judging by his lowered brows, she was starting to get on his nerves.
“Miss Grey?” she heard from the side.
Theo?Her smile grew wider as he approached.
“Do you need help?” Theo’s eyes stopped on the necklace. “You have my locket.”
Emmeline gaped. “This is yours?”
“Yes. I thought I’d lost it on the—well, you know—”
On the beach.Where she got it, in her era. Wait, no. She’d grabbed it during the headache. Was that the first time she’d time traveled? And later, she’d returned to the same beach … to Theo. Did the locket draw her to its rightful owner?
“Would you two mind? There are other customers,” the man ground out.
Emmeline pulled Theo to the side. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. Here.” She pressed the locket into his palm. “God, I almost sold it!”
“I don’t think he was anywhere near taking that offer.”
Him saying it with such a straight face somehow made it even funnier, and Emmeline laughed.
“Looks like I’m not even capable of sending a letter,” she said.
