Railway to Scotland

"Dear Diary, the date is September the 1st of the year 1851. I finished reading Jane Eyre, and now I must complete my needlepoint—Uhhhh!” Clara Ashcombe threw her journal across the candelabra-lit room toward the wall, nearly knocking over her used tea set from the morning.

“Mum would be furious if she saw you chipping the wall.”

“I’m unwell, Sister.”

“Clearly.” Her sister, Abigail, paused to temper her judgmental glance. She sensed the genuine pain in Clara’s eyes. “What troubles you, Clara, dear?”

“My life. My older sisters have found husbands, while I spend my days hoping I’ll be as lucky as you both.”

Abigail glowed humbly at the compliment. “Father does seem eager to maintain connections with my Henry.”

“Father has turned a blind eye to how casually he speaks. Henry addresses Father by his first name. I shudder when I hear ‘Thaddeus Ashcombe’ spoken aloud. How could Father be so informal? It’s unlike him. He’s a well-known lawyer in this city with a reputation for being honest and conservative.”

“It’s because Father is joyful that two of his daughters are happily married. Henry would agree that Thaddeus Ashcombe is indeed joyful.”

Clara laughed at the callback. “I want to be married right away.”

“I understand. But there was something I wished for before matrimony.” Abigail stood and gazed out the window at the rain-soaked English countryside. “I wish I had one last opportunity to explore the world before settling down.”

“Explore the world?”

“Rather, the world outside this city. There’s always more.” Abigail turned her attention back to the emotions of the person who mattered most in the room. “Don’t forget how precious this time is before you become someone else’s. The name Miss Ashcombe should be cherished.”

One of the few members of the staff in the Ashcombe household interrupted the conversation. “Miss Ashcombe, Mrs. Ashcombe has requested you join her in the dining room. Your aunt is arriving at any moment.”

“Not Aunt Hughs.” Clara squeezed her sister’s arm in panic. “Say you’ll join us for lunch.”

“I mustn't.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t think of a reason not to. Marriage duties, that’s all.” Clara squeezed her arm tighter in frustration. “Very well. I’ll entertain Aunt Hughs while you arrive late.”

“I’m heading to the market for fresh bread. May I bring back that apple pie you love so much?” the staff member asked Clara, who often spoke casually with her in private.

“Patricia, I need you to stay. I must go to the market at once. Please tell Mum I’ve already departed in case Aunt Hughs asks for my whereabouts.”

*****

Thomas drained his glass of port. Alas, this wasn’t a celebratory drink; it was a prerequisite to face the anxiety ahead of him and his brother, James. James, an imbecile, had forced them to sell their clothing and the remnants of their furniture to anyone willing to pay a shilling. Now he stood in the room of their empty townhome, surrounded only by memories. Their mother had died nearly a year prior, which had plunged James into a dangerous gambling habit. And now he owed someone more money than they had. It had cost them their belongings, heirlooms, and financial savings. And now it would cost them their lives.

The echoes of footsteps rang through the barren house. Thomas felt the heavy guilt that James carried as he arrived. Any moment now, they would be embarking on new lives far from England.

“I believe the time has come,” Thomas said, pinning his coat and gazing through the window at the city he had known his entire life—a city he was bound never to return to.

“Brother, my sincerest apologies for my foolish actions—”

Thomas raised a finger to silence him. “It’s best we make haste before they find us. As we both know, we may not leave this city alive if we’re caught.”

*****

Clara scanned the market vendors nearly a dozen times. She had preoccupied herself long enough. Not only would Aunt Hughs be waiting for the bread she had requested, but Clara’s stomach growled, longing for the apple pie she craved dearly. Alas, she had one thing to look forward to that evening: apple pie.

As she approached her family’s carriage, a beige parchment flew beneath her foot. She picked it up and read its contents. It was a train ticket from London to Scotland, coincidentally departing later that afternoon.

“Why am I overjoyed at this absurd opportunity? I won’t take it.”

“If you won’t, I will!” Abigail snatched it from her sister’s gloved hand back at the house.

“You mustn’t. I found it.”

“See! I knew I would discover how you truly feel if I took it. Go, sister. Take the trip. This is a sign from God. Have a getaway before you settle down and marry. And in Scotland! Think of the cuisine. Oh, and the men!”

“You’re so bad!” They giggled for a moment.

“This is your chance to be someone who isn’t Clara Ashcombe. Be the person you’ve always wanted to be outside of England. No one would ever know.”

Clara bit her nail. “This is quite splendid, but how would I convince Mother and Father?”

“Trust me.”

Clara wasn’t sure how, but Abigail successfully convinced their parents, and soon Patricia was packing her tote for the train station at once.

*****

“Hardly anything to carry,” James grinned, gesturing at the two totes between them at the train station. He tried to inject some humor into the moment The steam from the nearby locomotive mirrored the gray English sky. A sky Thomas wondered if he’d miss now that he and James would be residing in Scotland.

“Our locomotive leaves in precisely ten minutes. I want to be the first ones on to avoid any—” Thomas stood frozen. A group of men, nearly twice their size and dressed in dark apparel, had arrived at the station, casually looking around. They didn’t carry any baggage, which meant they were either waiting for someone to arrive from a trip or searching for someone about to depart.

Thomas swallowed hard and turned his back to the group. “Brother, hand me your ticket. We’ll board immediately once the whistle blows.”

James sensed the tension, almost knowing the scenario that had befallen them. He dug into his front pocket, his eyes widening in alarm. “Brother, I’m afraid—” The group of men moved closer to the locomotive.

There was only a small window of time before they would be recognized. The conductor blew his whistle and motioned for ticketed passengers to begin boarding. “I seem to have misplaced it.”

Thomas felt a surge of rage. They had no time and no more money for a ticket. “Let me board and see if I can pay off the man who found your ticket and took your seat.”

“With what money, Thomas? The rest is for our food supply, and there’s barely enough to cover the ticket price.”

James turned to face the men. “It’s time I show myself to my demons.” He walked away slowly, leaving his brother behind.

“James!” But it was too late. James was spotted, and if Thomas didn’t board the train, he too would face the consequences of their debt.

Inside the train cab, Thomas peered out the window, but there was no sign of James or the angry men. It would all be left behind in England, like the rest of his memories. As the train lurched forward, he cursed under his breath and closed his eyes. “What a waste of a ticket.”

“Excuse me. I am sharing this car with you,” Clara said warmly, settling into the seat across from Thomas.

He stood as a gentleman would before she made herself comfortable. “I gather you found the missing ticket,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“It’s nothing. I’m Thomas Townsend. And you are?”

This was Clara’s moment to reinvent herself. Even if it was just for a train ride lasting a couple of hours, the thought of performing was thrilling.

“Sara Johnson.”

“Ah, Miss Johnson. How do you do?”

“Very well.” As Clara took his hand for a polite shake, she couldn’t help but notice his hazel eyes, flecked with green. She felt she had seen those eyes before. “Apologies, but have we met before?”

He cocked his head to one side, studying her. “I’m afraid not. I do have a twin brother, and I apologize on his behalf if he’s ever failed you.”

“My heavens,” Clara said, adjusting her tote closer to her. She didn’t realize he’d be so forward, but something about her car companion seemed distressed. She didn’t want to pry, yet she felt oddly comfortable in the presence of this familiar stranger. “What has you in distress, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Thomas watched the tops of elm trees passing by outside. He didn’t care about anything at that moment, even sharing details of his life with a stranger. “I said goodbye to the only life I ever knew, and now I’m off to live in a new country.”

She studied his face again. If he were years older, she would be certain she had seen him before. He seemed nearly her age—maybe just a year or two younger. “Thomas Townsend. That name doesn’t ring a bell for me. Are you sure you haven’t another name?”

“I could have had another name. My brother and I were born out of wedlock. My birth father paid my mother off to raise us away from him. Now my brother has ruined that financially. What’s worse is that I know who my father is. I’ve had friends who’ve used his services.”

“I’m so sorry.” The sound of the rickety engine pierced through the aftermath of his confession. Clara remained intrigued. “What does your father do?”

“He’s a lawyer in this city, well-known too. No matter what, no one can forget a name like Thaddeus Ashcombe.”