23
November 7, 1888
London, England
I had never lived through such a long day before in my life. But if I thought being in 1938 and not having word from Berlin was difficult, it was nothing compared to waiting in 1888. What made it even more unbearable was that Austen hadn’t been home all day and no one knew where he had gone.
I spent most of my day pacing, though I tried to stay occupied. I only had two more days in this path, and this was not how I wanted to spend my time. The weather had finally cleared, and the day was bright and warm for early November. I would have preferred walking in the park or taking a drive through the city, but I was confined to our townhouse, afraid to go out, not knowing when I might see Austen next. He knew I was leaving soon. Didn’t he want to spend every possible moment with me?
“Your mother sent me to tell you that it’s time to get ready,” Father said when he opened the parlor door and found me that evening.
“For what?” I asked.
“For a dinner party or something or other.”
“I don’t plan to go out tonight.”
He sighed. “I wouldn’t advise you to deny your mother’s request today. She’s not in a good mood.”
“I’m not in a good mood, either.” I crossed my arms and stared into the crackling fireplace.
He stood at the door for several seconds and then said, “I hope this doesn’t have something to do with Austen. You two have spent far too much time in each other’s company lately. I don’t like it one bit.”
I didn’t respond.
He entered the parlor and closed the door behind him.
I finally turned my gaze away from the flames with a frown. Father rarely took the time to address me, unless he was upset.
“I hope Austen isn’t preparing to ask for your hand in marriage.” His blunt, simple statement made me sit up straighter in my chair.
Austen and I hadn’t spoken about marriage because we knew it was pointless. “I’m—”
“It’s out of the question.” Father planted his feet, as if he was ready to go into battle. “I have other plans for you, and I won’t hear of it.”
“Why? Austen is a good man, from a good family.”
“That doesn’t matter—at least not in this situation.”
“How could it not matter?” I moved to the edge of my seat. “What does that mean?”
“Austen is not the right man for you. He’s headstrong and stubborn and unwilling to yield to common sense. I want you to marry someone who is willing to play by the rules.”
I stared at my father for a moment, realization dawning. “He won’t join the Freemasons. Is that what you mean? He won’t play by their rules, and if he’s not for you, then he’s against you?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice became low as his eyes narrowed.
“Austen knows things that you don’t want him to know if he’s not under a pledge or oath to the Brotherhood. Is that it? Is that what makes him unsuitable for me? You want someone who willbend and comply to your demands. Who can be entrusted with your secrets. Who is willing to toss their daughter onto the street because she knows too much.”
Father took a menacing step toward me, his face turning red in an instant. “Who have you been speaking to? Is it Austen? What has he told you?”
My lips parted in surprise at his fury. If I wasn’t careful, I might get Austen into the same kind of trouble that Mary had been in.
“He’s told me nothing,” I said quickly.
He came closer, and I pressed into the back of the chair.
“Have you seen Mary?” Father asked, studying my face for the answer. “Do you know where she is?”
