The plant was never silent, but it certainly wasn’t as busy at midnight as it was during the daylight hours. Rebecca tiptoed quietly along the floor in her leather-soled boots, following Sullivan Andrews through the back door and down the corridor, where he unlocked the door to her father’s office.

“My father allows you to have a key?” she whispered softly over his shoulder as he pushed open the door.

“No,” he responded. “I had one made when we first moved into the building. I felt it was prudent to have two copies of each key made in case of an emergency. I suppose this situation can be considered as such.”

Her eyes widened as she took in the man she had known for so many years. He had always been her father’s opposite, and while she knew the two of them had never really gotten on as friends, they worked together well, each filling the role required for them. For Sullivan to do this for her, behind her father’s back, well … she would be forever grateful.

They entered the office, Sullivan lighting a candle so as to not shed too much light over the room, and made his way toward the desk. He sat behind it, picking up the pile of papers and beginning to sort through them.

“What are those?” she asked softly.

“Your father had me complete another set of the plans for the invention, as your Adam destroyed the papers he found,” said Sullivan in a low tone. “I saw him once again filling out the patent papers. Ah! Here they are. He had them prepared for mailing, though he required one additional piece of information. I don’t believe he will again look at the documents themselves.”

He slid the papers out of the envelope, laying them flat on the desk before him.

He took a pen from the side of the desk, dipping it in the inkwell before taking it to the page. Rebecca watched as he found the line with the names of those requesting patent, and he added to the names of Hardwick Trenton and Sullivan Andrews, “Adam McDougall.” He reviewed the rest of the paper and the proposed design, adding in a line here or there to note Adam’s contribution to the work. Rebecca’s heart swelled with gratitude for the man.

“There we are,” he said as he allowed the ink to dry. “It will now be as was originally intended. Your Mr. McDougall will receive the same recognition and the same pay for any design fashioned out of the original idea.”

He folded the papers once more and returned them to the envelope. “Your father should not note any differences come the morrow.”

As he rose from the desk, Rebecca put her arms around him. “Thank you, Sullivan. I really, truly appreciate it.”

“’Tis only what is fair, Rebecca,” he said. “Now, let us see about finding the copies your father made and adjusting them as well, hmmm?”

He found the papers in the cabinet, quickly scratching in the changes but, rather than returning them to the shelf, he folded them and placed them in his pocket. “Trenton hardly looks in the cabinet, and even if he did, what would he say?” he said. “I do not very well believe he would accuse me of taking them, for what motive would I have? Come, child, we must go before anyone happens to see us.”

He ushered her out the door, and Rebecca, despite feeling utterly useless, was glad she had insisted on accompanying Sullivan. Not only would he not be solely complicit were he to be found out, but she felt a true sense of accomplishment at having outwitted her father. They settled back in the hack that had waited for them, and Sullivan looked at her questioningly.

“What are you going to do now, Rebecca?” he asked, concern in his voice. “I do understand your wish to be true to your father’s desires for you and yet … I cannot help but not want to see you spend the rest of your life unhappy. You have a loving heart, Rebecca, and I do not want to see it squandered on someone who cares only for himself.”

Rebecca nodded slowly, agreeing with his words.

“The more I learn of my father’s treachery,” she said, “The more I have realized that he has simply been using me as a pawn. I am still grateful for what he has done for me and yet … I do realize that he has done no more than a parent should. However, when I think of the children I hope to have one day, I realize that I would never want for them a life of unhappiness. I would want for them a life of love, laughter, a better one than I had. No, Sullivan,” she said, with resolve, “I will not marry Vincent. Adam may no longer have me, but at the very least, I must let him know that he still has his design, that he will still benefit from it, as will the people he cares for.”

Sullivan smiled at her. “That’s a girl,” he said. “I’m proud of you. I believe McDougall may surprise you. Despite his serious countenance, he’s a good sort, and I can tell you, Rebecca girl, that man loves you. All of our days together here, he may have been focused on his designs, but you were always on his mind. You could see it in the way his eyes sometimes were looking off into the distance, the way his head turned so suddenly whenever your name was mentioned, how he looked with such distaste upon Vincent.” He shrugged. “Although I suppose most people look upon Vincent with distaste. Go to Adam, tell him how you feel. Take the copy of the documents with you. Adam can keep them, to have as proof of his role in the project.”

“Thank you, Sullivan,” she said as the carriage came to a halt. “I appreciate ever so much all that you have done for me.”

“Do not thank me!” he said. “I have no wish to be involved in a scheme that steals from others, though I am looking forward to the success we can all find together. Now, just be sure to invite me to the wedding, all right, young lady?”

Rebecca refused to raise her hopes at his words, as much as they caused a fluttering in her stomach that was difficult to ignore.

“All right, Sullivan,” she said. “If it comes to that, I will.”

Returning home, she dragged her valise out of the closet. If she could leave before her father arose, she would not have to face him with the knowledge of what she had taken from him. As much as she knew she was in the right, it was still difficult to go against the loyalty she had always shown to him and was so used to. It was just past two in the morning so she had some time, and she looked through her dresses to determine what to take with her. She didn’t have many appropriate garments for the trip, but now she knew better what was required for the Highlands, and she found a few skirts and blouses that were more practical, though she couldn’t help but take some of her favorite, prettiest dresses.

Her two pairs of boots, her brush, and comb. As for the bonnets, she laughed as she found the bonnet Adam had so hated. She would definitely be taking it with her. She had always been very careful to keep her face covered from the sun, for her freckles were liable to show the moment a sun’s ray hit her face. And yet Adam seemed to enjoy her freckles, so did it really matter? She packed a couple more anyway then surveyed her room. Yes, there were beautiful things here. Things she would miss if she would not return. She felt a slight panic rise in her stomach as she thought what she would do if Adam were to not return her sentiments. Would her father take her back? Would she have to marry Vincent? Or could she forge her own path?

She swallowed the fear and resolved that for once in her life, she would put herself first and take the chance to find happiness.

* * *

Rebecca found the first train out of London to Perth that morning, her palms sweating as she purchased her ticket with a few of the funds she could call her own. Was she really doing this? Was she really going to the Highlands with the chance that she could end up completely and utterly alone?

Yes, she told herself, beating back the doubt that crept in. While perhaps not entirely logical, at the same time this was the only step that made sense. If she didn’t go to him, didn’t try to explain what had happened, then she would always be left with the question of “what if” — what if her life could be altogether different?

She lugged her bag toward the train, smiling graciously when one of the porters took it out of her hand and helped her with it, taking it into the car for her. It was near bursting at the seams after she had packed everything she had thought she might be able to use and also what she couldn’t bear to part with. She realized this could possibly be one of the last times she would ever see London. She knew Adam hated it, and she wasn’t sure if her father would ever forgive her.

That thought gave her pause. She had tried so hard to always be a good daughter, to do as he asked. Reflecting on it, she thought that perhaps he had tried, as much as he could, but it just wasn’t truly in his nature. At the very least, he had not abandoned her like her mother had.

She had left behind a note for him, one in which she tried to explain her feelings. She had told him how she did appreciate him, and she wished the very best for him and his business, but that she felt he had been rather underhanded in his methods, and she could no longer do his bidding, particularly when he had been so dishonest. She felt she had to put her happiness first, and that was exactly what she was going to do. She had not actually told him where she was going, although she felt he was certainly intelligent enough to put the pieces together and determine where she was.

She also had not, of course, mentioned what she and Sullivan had done. No, her father would determine that for himself in due time, when it was much too late for him to do anything about it.

Rebecca leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes as she listened to the sounds of the train around her, of the people boarding and finding their seats and the distant hum and squeal of the other trains leaving and rolling into the station. She opened her eyes to look out the window, at the bustle of people pushing their way through the crowds to find their trains. It was so busy here, everyone moving so fast. It was something, she realized, that she wouldn’t miss.

She began to close her eyes again, as the adrenaline that had sustained her throughout the night was beginning to ebb, to be replaced with a fatigue that was hard to ignore. Then suddenly her eyes alighted on a figure out the window — a familiar figure, with dark, straight hair, stilted movements amongst the crowd of people, and broad shoulders that seemed tight and tense. No, she thought. No, it couldn’t be him. He wouldn’t be here, back in London. She was seeing things.

She blinked, shaking her head to clear it, then looked out the window again. She found him once more, as he was beginning to walk toward the exit of the station. As much as her mind wanted to deny what she thought she saw, there was no escaping the matter. It was him. He was here.