Baltimore, Maryland

One Week Later

AMELIA POWELL HID both of her leather bags under the bed and sauntered to the mirror in the corner of her room. She wore a dark blue wool skirt and a white blouse covered by a matching navy jacket. The outfit was a gift from her father, and she felt quite mature in it. She’d decided on fewer petticoats for ease of movement, and had swept her light-blonde hair into braids that she’d secured to her crown. Leaning forward, she frowned. Would the authorities and train personnel believe she was sanctioned to travel alone?

She wondered what she could do to make her face look older and considered adding a veil to her hat. Her mother had warned her that her peaches-and-cream complexion, along with piercing sky-blue eyes, would create attention that she would not be ready for.

Amelia grinned and dismissed the idea of a veil. “What kind of attention could I possibly get that I wouldn’t like? Especially from someone like Jacob Butler.”

She smoothed a finger over her eyebrows and made her way to the door. She had very little time to put her plans into action, and needed to find John, the freed slave who worked on her father’s farm.

Amelia’s mother met with a few of the church ladies for their quilting group on Thursdays, and her father usually hid himself in his office by dawn and wouldn’t come out again until dinner. This would provide her a window of at least two hours to sneak away undeterred.

Amelia tiptoed downstairs, but as she stepped off the bottom step and into the foyer, she realized she needn’t have bothered, with the amount of yelling going on—again. Her parents were quarreling, a common occurrence of late. Today they were in the parlor, which was a change. They usually shut themselves in her father’s office. She glanced at the clock in the foyer and grimaced. She’d missed breakfast. Her mother was a stickler to keeping schedules, and Amelia was officially fifteen minutes past the eight a.m. clean up.

Amelia sidled to the open door of the parlor and flattened her back to the wall, just out of sight of her parents.

“That... that woman is a harlot!” her mother squealed. “She does not deserve the Powell name, or the backing of this family.”

Three months ago, Amelia’s brother Samuel had married Rayne Green, a woman Amelia’s mother did not approve of.

“How would you know anything about her, Edith?” her father argued. “You refuse to give the poor girl a chance.”

“Give her a chance? She stole my son away from me!”

“You don’t give Samuel much credit, dear.”

“Don’t you call me dear,” her mother hissed. “You’ve lost that right.”

Amelia squeezed her eyes shut. Her mother was growing more and more bitter. She no longer hid her contempt for her husband, and Amelia couldn’t understand how she could be so unpleasant to him, especially as of late. Her father had broken his leg a few months before and had been stuck in a chair until just a few days ago. Amelia peeked through the gap in the door, still debating on whether or not she should enter the room.

It was bad enough her mother quarreled with her father, but now she’d turned her wrath on Rayne. Her mother appeared to hate her new daughter-in-law even though Rayne had gone out of her way to bring Dr. Paxton to the house, all the way from Harrisburg, and Dr. Paxton had been able to fix her father’s leg, preventing amputation. Her father was now able to get around with a cane and grew stronger every day.

“We must speak to the minister about an annulment,” her mother continued as she paced the room.

“Even if they hadn’t been married for three months, Samuel would never allow that to happen, Edith.”

“She’s going to lead him to ruin!”

“For the love of God, woman, Samuel is an adult!” her father snapped. “He can take care of himself.”

“Don’t you dare use that tone of voice with me, George.”

Amelia took a deep breath and stepped away from her hiding place, entering the room and interrupting her parents’ argument. “Good morning, Mama... Papa.”

“You’ve missed breakfast, young lady,” her mother snapped.

“I know, Mama. I’m sorry.”

Papa grinned and waved her over to where he sat with the paper on his lap. He stood, a little wobbly, but better than yesterday. “Good morning, Meely Mouse. How’s my girl?”

Amelia glanced at her mother, who glared back at her, picked up her needlework from where it lay on the sofa, and sat down. Amelia made her way to her father and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m well, Father. How’s your leg?”

“Healing faster than I could have imagined.” He sat down again and tapped the cast with the newspaper. “The pain is almost gone.”

Amelia smiled. “I’m so glad.”

“Amelia, you’re coming with me today,” her mother interjected.

Amelia’s heart raced. No, no, no. That will ruin everything.

She tried to calm down as she turned to face her mother. “Are you certain?”

“You’ve never allowed her to go with you before, Edith,” Papa said with a raised eyebrow.

Mama shrugged and sipped her coffee. “Well, with the riff-raff showing up at the house these days, I want to keep an eye on my only daughter. She must be protected.”

“You quite liked Captain Ford,” Papa pointed out.

Captain James Ford was a Union soldier who’d been shot in a skirmish near the border over a year earlier. He’d somehow found his way to their farm and Amelia’s father had offered him refuge while he healed. Amelia had to admit she’d formed an affection for him while he stayed with them. He was a handsome man, funny and respectful, and he treated their housekeeper, Della, like a queen. Like no one she’d ever met. Her mother still treated the Negroes as slaves, which bothered Amelia to no end. Her father had freed their slaves years ago, and several had stayed, including Della.

When Jamie moved on, he had written to thank them for their help and inform Mr. Powell he’d been reunited with his wife, Sophie. Amelia had thought herself heartbroken, until she’d met Sophie. Watching the handsome soldier with his beautiful wife, Amelia couldn’t begrudge their love. She’d never seen a relationship like it, and soon adored Sophie as much as she did Jamie.

Mama wagged a finger. “Captain Ford is not riff-raff. He is a gentleman of the highest caliber—”

“For a Yankee,” Papa interrupted, his tone sarcastic.

Amelia’s mother was still sympathetic to the South, although, not nearly as much as when the war began. She huffed. “For any man.”

Amelia wracked her brain for options. “Mama, with Daddy in his office and John close, I can’t imagine anyone will bother me. Are you certain you’d like me to distract you from your friends? I know how much you look forward to your time with Mrs. Sheldon.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia saw her father lay his newspaper back on his lap. He raised a bushy eyebrow in suspicion. Amelia forced a smile as she sat down in the chair next to him. Her stomach growled, but she’d have to wait until she could sneak something from the kitchen later. Della would have saved something for her... she always did.

Mama eyed her mistrustfully, and Amelia focused on her mother’s face for a brief minute.

No more hostile than any other day. She doesn’t know anything.

Amelia kept her expression neutral and asked her father for part of the paper. He handed it to her and she pretended to read it.

“Very well, Amelia. You may stay here,” her mother said.

Amelia raised her head and gave a half smile. “If you’re certain, Mama. Whatever you’d like me to do, of course.”

Her mother rose to her feet and settled her hands on her hips. “I won’t be long today. There could be snow, so I might be forced to cut my visit short.”

Amelia smiled. “Yes, Mama.”

Her mother turned with a swish of her skirts and left the room. Amelia’s father grabbed his walking cane and stood. “Come with me please, Mouse.”

“Of course.” Amelia stood and followed him down the hall.

Her father used to sneak into the nursery when Amelia was young and make up stories. Even though the stories were all different, they always contained the character “Meely Mouse,” a brave little mouse who spent her days saving the world. Mama knew nothing about Daddy’s visits... they knew she would have never approved of him filling Amelia’s head with what Mama referred to as “nonsense.” But one night, when Amelia was four, ten-year-old Sam discovered their story-telling secret and insisted on being included. Their father had chuckled and waved him in.

For as long as she could remember, her brother and father had called her “Meely” or “Mouse,” or a combination of both.

Daddy waved Amelia to a chair and then sat behind his large mahogany desk, leaning his forearms on the wood. “Do you truly think I don’t know what you’ve been up to, young lady?”

Amelia tried to appear relaxed, but her shoulders tensed. She crossed her arms, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“The suitcase under the bed?”

Amelia stomped her foot. “How could you possibly know about the suitcase under the bed?”

Papa smiled. “I didn’t really. You just confirmed it.”

“Oh, bother!” she exclaimed. “How did you figure it out?”

Mr. Powell chuckled and sat back. “I appreciate the need to get away and with the party planned in Harrisburg, I can understand your desire to spend some time with your brother.”

Jamie and Sophie were hosting a party in celebration of her sister Emma’s baby, born just six weeks ago. The safe arrival of Henry Clayton Madden was a joyous excuse for Sophie to host one of her beloved get-togethers. Samuel and Rayne would be joining the celebration and Amelia couldn’t wait to see them.

Amelia nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“I’m sorry things have been tense around here.”

Amelia forced a smile.

“Meely?” he said when she didn’t respond. “We need to leave in twenty minutes if we’re going to make it to Sam’s before dinner.”

“What?”

“I’ve sent John on ahead to let your brother know we’re coming.”

“You have?” Amelia’s heart soared. “What about Mama?”

“She knows we’re leaving.”

“She does?” Amelia asked in surprise. “Then why did she act like she didn’t know?”

“I said you’d rather come with me, and she said she’d like to see that for herself. I imagine she felt your reluctance to spend the day with her.”

Amelia frowned, a sick feeling in her stomach. “And she’s letting me go?”

“Don’t worry yourself,” her father instructed. “Let’s just go and enjoy the celebration. I’ve sent a note to Samuel to expect us and then we’ll all travel to Harrisburg together.”

“Yes, Papa.”

* * *

“There you are,” Samuel Powell said. He strolled into his wife’s private parlor and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I probably should have started here.”

Rayne grinned up at him from her seat on the sofa. Her blonde hair, falling just above her shoulders now, had grown a good three inches since she’d arrived in the past. Pages of scribbled lyrics were scattered around her. “I had an idea for a song, but I’ve run out of ink. I suppose that’s my cue to stop.” She nodded toward his hand. “What’s that?”

Sam handed her a note. “My father and Amelia will be joining us on our trip to Harrisburg.”

“And your mom?” Rayne paused in her reading. “Your dad doesn’t say if she’s coming with.”

“No, no mention of her, so I suppose we’ll find out in a few hours. John was sent on ahead to deliver this, so I would imagine Father and Amelia will arrive in time for dinner.”

“What?” Rayne stood quickly, causing her pages to fall to the floor. “Shit! There’s so much to do! I’ll have to have a room made up... two rooms, actually. And if your mother does come, she’ll run her gloved finger over every surface of the house. I’ll need to have the staff dust again.”

“Angel.” Sam grasped her arms. “Tandy’s taking care of everything. You don’t have to lift a finger. And don’t worry about my mother. If she’s nasty, I’ll send her home.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Sam chuckled, his ice blue eyes narrowing with humor. “I damn well would. We’re joining our friends tomorrow for a much-needed and well-deserved break. She will not ruin this for us.”

“I love you best of all.” Rayne sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Please don’t leave me alone with her. I’m always afraid I’m going to fly into a twenty-first-century rampage that would absolutely cause your mother to have a heart attack... or shoot me.”

“With what gun?”

Rayne snorted as she stepped back and tried to tidy up her mess with shaky hands. “Oh, you think that woman doesn’t have a Derringer hidden in her reticule?”

Sam grinned. “You might be right. She’s nothing if not prepared.”

Rayne rolled her eyes.

“When are we due over at Shaye House?”

Rayne had opened a home for abused women and children, drawing from her experience from the future and the center she’d opened there years ago... or to come, as the case may be. The center’s name was a constant reminder of the friend who had returned to live in the future.

Rayne grinned. “Not for over an hour.”

“Will you play something for me?”

“If you insist.”

Sam kissed her. “One day, I think I’ll install a piano in our bedroom. I’d like you to play for me naked.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Send the staff away for the day and I’ll play for you anytime you’d like.”

“Hmm, that idea has merits, Angel. It benefits everyone involved.”

Rayne giggled. “Yes, it does. But for now, we’ll stay clothed and I’ll play you the song I wrote for you.”

“Lead the way.”

* * *

Rayne had insisted on a few updates to Shaye House, which had just been completed, and she felt more satisfied than she had expected to. A kitchen with an indoor pump and two ovens had been added to accommodate cooking for a larger number of women and children, plus two fireplaces to heat water for bathing and dishes. Rayne also hoped to conduct a few classes to show how personal hygiene reduces the risk of disease.

After an in-depth tour, Rayne and Sam arrived home just as Mr. Powell’s carriage pulled up to the house. Mr. Powell and Amelia climbed out of the carriage and Rayne released a silent sigh of relief to see that Mrs. Powell was not with them. Her reaction was particularly due to the fact she wasn’t dressed in “appropriate” attire. Samuel’s mother would have wholly disapproved that she’d forgone hoops and petticoats, choosing to wear a drab day dress with only one petticoat and breeches underneath. But they’d ridden, rather than taking a buggy, and Rayne wanted to be comfortable.

Mr. Powell didn’t seem to notice Rayne’s attire, either because of her thick coat or the fact he probably wouldn’t notice such things anyway, but Rayne was still grateful. She knew she’d have time to change before dinner.

Rayne opened her arms to receive Amelia’s exuberant hug.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Amelia said.

“I’ve missed you as well.” Rayne released her sister-in-law. “You look beautiful.”

Amelia beamed. “Papa bought me a new traveling outfit a few months ago. I just love it.”

The dress complemented Amelia’s light blue eyes that looked so much like Samuel’s.

“It’s divine,” Rayne said.

“Just wait until you see the gown Papa bought me for the ball.” Amelia clasped her hands together. “I didn’t even realize he’d planned to come with me.”

“What do you mean? You weren’t going to travel alone again, were you?” Rayne asked.

Amelia lowered her head.

“Oh, Amelia, your brother would have absolutely lost his mind.”

She shrugged. “I know. I just wanted to go to the ball. No one ever does anything fun at home.”

“Well, now you get to, but promise me you won’t ever try to do something so foolish again.”

“I promise.” Amelia sighed. “I can’t wait to dance all night. Do you think there will be many soldiers there?”

“I imagine there will be.” Rayne smiled. “But I doubt there will be anyone as handsome as Jacob Butler.”

Amelia had fallen hard for Christopher and Quincy’s youngest brother, Jacob, when she met him at Rayne and Sam’s wedding reception. Rayne knew they’d been writing one another when they could, but wasn’t sure how serious the relationship had gotten. Judging by Amelia’s blush, her feelings were quite serious, and Rayne hoped Jacob felt the same.

Amelia’s eyes widened. “Do you really think he will be at the ball?”

Rayne chuckled. “Like you don’t know the answer to that already.”

Her cheeks darkened even more. “Well, I did write to tell him I would be there.”

“Then I highly doubt that even cannon balls and gangrene could keep him away.” Rayne giggled at Amelia’s expression of horror. “But,” she continued as she linked her arm with Amelia’s, “if he doesn’t make it, there will be plenty of young men to entertain you. Come inside and get warm. I’ll show you to your room. We’ve made a few changes to the house since you were last here.”