“I love you, Kate,” he whispered.
“I love you, too.” I kissed him one last time, and then I stepped into my room.
There was no sound outside my door for a few moments, and then I heard his steps as he walked away.
The room was small but clean. I didn’t bother to undress but went to bed and lay down. I was exhausted in body and soul. I didn’t want to leave 1888, but there was nothing left to do.
So I went to sleep.
26
November 8, 1938
London, England
I slowly opened my eyes in my room at 44 Berkeley Square, not knowing what might be different. I must have been crying in my sleep because tears wet my cheeks in 1938, reminding me of all I’d just sacrificed for Mary.
The sun sat low on the horizon as I stared out the window, my heart breaking into a thousand little pieces. Grief hit me in waves, and as soon as I thought I might catch my breath, another memory of Austen or Mary would crash upon me with such force, it would overwhelm me again. The only thing that brought me comfort was knowing Mary had gotten away and, I prayed, lived a long and happy life in New York. Perhaps she was still alive there now. I couldn’t visit her, since she didn’t know I was a time-crosser, but I could make inquiries.
Nothing brought me comfort where Austen was concerned. I pulled a pillow into my arms and allowed myself to cry for all he and I had lost. Just like Mama had held Papa’s nightshirt, I wanted something tangible to hold. Something that smelled like Austen—but I had nothing. He was gone, or at least, the man he had been was gone.
I had nowhere to go and nothing to do today, so I stayed in bed, nursing my sore heart, until I knew Mama would get worried. Every part of my body felt sluggish, and my head pounded. I prayed with all my heart that we would have news of Papa today. Good news that would strengthen me for the days ahead.
Slowly, I got dressed and then left my room to find Mama.
She was in the parlor, the telephone extension within reach.
When she heard my arrival, she stood and rushed across the room to pull me into her embrace.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Kathryn,” she said. “I know what you’re going through today. I know how hard this has been for you.”
I held her tight, thankful that someone understood.
“We make a fine pair, don’t we?” I asked as I wiped my face and pulled back a few moments later. “You, longing for Papa, and me, longing for Austen.”
“They say misery loves company, but I don’t agree.” She shook her head. “I do not want you to feel the misery I’m feeling.”
We went to the chairs near the hearth and took a seat. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do today, but there was one question that was plaguing me.
“Did anything change in the world because I saved Mary?” I asked Mama.
She frowned and shrugged. “I don’t know. If you changed something that affected history, then I only know the new version.”
“That seems strange and unsettling,” I said as I shifted in my chair. “Is Hitler still a threat?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“And Papa is still missing?”
She lowered her gaze to her hands and nodded.
“And Jack the Ripper only killed four women?”
Mama lifted her face and shook her head. “As far as I know, he killed five women.”
I frowned. Would Mama still have all the same memories as before while the rest of the world would only know of the four murders?
“Perhaps I should go to Lancaster House,” I said as I stood, “and see for myself how much history changed.”
