He tilted my chin up with his finger and placed a kiss on my lips. It was just as tender as all the others, but it held so much passion and longing, it felt different. As if he couldn’t get enough.
When I finally pulled back, I asked, “Where were you today? I’ve missed you.”
“I did something that’s probably foolish.” He let me go and reached for the item he’d set on the statue. “Actually, I know it was foolish. I left last night after I brought you home from Miller’s Court, and I just now returned.”
He handed me the item, which I quickly realized was a book. A book I would know anywhere.
“It’s the book about Queen Elizabeth,” I said, quickly opening it and trying to see the pages in the dark. It was the book that Austen and I had read together in the garden as children. The book that had made me want to be a historian. “Austen.” I looked up at him, my lips parting in both surprise and delight. “Where was it?”
“At my cottage on Loch Lomond.”
“You went all the way there and back to bring it to me?”
He took my hand and walked me to a bench where we sat, out of the wind and in a little alcove of trees. “Do you recall all the hours we sat together reading this book?”
“Of course I do,” I said as I ran my hand over the worn fabric cover. “Those are some of my dearest memories. This book made me fall in love with history.”
“As I fell in love with you,” he said, touching my cheek. “I’ve always been drawn to your passion and your courage. I could see you living in the Elizabethan period, amid the intrigue at court, like Queen Elizabeth’s maid of honor Lady Cecily Pembrooke, who we read about.”
I smiled against his hand. “You remember her story?”
“How could I forget? You lit up every time we read about her. I could easily see you in any place and at any time in history,” he said, his voice growing sad, “never cowering or bowing down to injustice. That’s why the book means so much to me. It makes me feel connected to you through time, somehow. I’ve never understood it.” He paused for a moment, and all the angst and gruffness was gone as he said, “You’re timeless, Kate. Whether you’re here or in 1938, or in Queen Elizabeth’s court, you belong. And I feel honored to know you. To share even a small part of your amazing existence.”
His words warmed my heart, and I lifted the book to my chest. “Why did you have this at Loch Lomond?”
“When I left London after my parents died, I didn’t take a single thing with me. Nothing. Except this book. I had it with me at Eton and then Oxford, and I had it with me on every trip I took abroad. I leave it at Loch Lomond only because when I’m in London, and you’re nearby, I don’t need it.”
“You took this with you?” I asked, incredulous.
“It reminded me of the happiest moments of my life, of a time that made sense and gave me hope.” He ran his thumb over my lower lip. “It connected me to you. No matter where I went.”
“Austen,” I said on a breath, trying to control my emotions. “What are we going to do?”
“What can we do?” he asked. “We must face the path ahead with courage and faith. Just as Lady Cecily did in 1563. Doyouremember?”
I smiled and nodded. “But she had a knight in shining armor come to her rescue.”
“Did she?” he asked with a smile, taking me into his arms.“Somehow, I remember that it was Lady Cecily who did the rescuing.”
I returned his smile, my heart breaking, knowing that neither of us could rescue the other from what was about to happen.
This was a stolen moment. One I would cherish forever, because there would never again be a night like this.
24
November 7, 1938
London, England
My nerves were so raw by the next evening, I could hardly think straight. There had been no news from Berlin. Not even a phone call from Major Smith, Colonel Lindbergh, or anyone from the American embassy. The Astors had come earlier in the day, but seeing that there was nothing they could do, Mama had insisted they leave.
We had called Lydia and spoken to her for over an hour, and then around noon, Mama had told me I needed to leave. She knew I had things to do at Lancaster House to prepare for the grand opening. And, though I didn’t want her to be alone, I couldn’t deny my need to go to the museum.
As I worked on last-minute touches to the exhibit, I prayed fervently for good news out of Berlin and for a miracle in 1888. Every time I saw something with Mary’s name on it, I forced myself to think beyond November 9th. This was not how Mary’s story would end. I didn’t care what history had to say about it. And I prayed that Austen wouldn’t have to suffer for helping me.Iwas the one changing history.
An hour before the grand opening ceremony, I went into therestroom to touch up my lipstick and smooth down my hair. King George VI and Queen Elizabeth would arrive within half an hour to look over the exhibit before it was opened to the public. They would be on hand for the ceremony, when Sir Rothschild, Calan, and I were scheduled to talk about the history and the collaboration between the London Museum, the Smithsonian, and the Royal Museum of Scotland. It was one of the biggest moments of my career and my life. I just wished Mama and Papa could be there with me to celebrate.
I took several deep breaths, trying to gain control of my emotions so I could get through the next couple of hours. My longing for Austen felt like a gaping hole in my chest. If he could be at my side, things would be a little more bearable. Waiting for news about Papa might not be so hard.
