A Ripple In Time | Captain James Nicholls

Chapter Twenty-One

Home is behind, the world ahead.

London; August 7, 1914

She had read each and every one of the books Adam had given her, twice over even, committing them to memory. Izabella looked down at the fading leather bag she had placed on the foot of her bed, within was two thin dresses that had seen better days and two of the books she had deemed to be most useful for war time medicine; along with her small booklet of notes from the readings and the single picture she had of James. It had faded around the edges but was now in a small frame, he looked handsome as ever, even though his face was serious and there was no smile to be found on his lips. Letting out a long breath she secured the latches on the bag and picked it up, unwavering.

Adam was aware of the scheme that had been brewing in her mind but he doubted her commitment, to leave London, to leave for a human. He thought her to be insane. When she knocked on his door in the early hours that the sun was still rising he was shocked to see her valise in hand, her eyes filled with conviction and determination. "You are following him, then?" There was a hint of loathing in his voice, it was not that he detested James, he had grown fond of the mortal, finding him more tolerable then most. He loathed him because he had the ability to break Izabella, he could break her heart with his mortality.

"Yes. I am." He had never heard her voice be so strong yet so broken, it pulled at his heart in ways he wished it wouldn't. Hesitantly, Adam lifted his hand to her cheek and leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Be safe, I wish you quick return." She nodded and picked up her suitcase. She had said nothing to her staff, they did not know of her engagement, nor that her Captain had been sent to war, above all they did know she was leaving as well. Izabella did not make a sound as she descended the stairs and slipped from her door. Ellis though, was already tending to the horses when she pulled open the barn doors, the sight of the young stable boy made her jump.

"Ms. Izabella?" He looked over her appearance, hardly believing that she would go off without a finer dress, but of course he said nothing, nor did he ask questions.

"Will you drive me to town, Ellis?" The boy nodded and went to retrieve a harness for Scatha, while he prepared a cart Belle looked in the stall where Gail stood, her tail swishing. From the pack at the door she pulled out a sugar cube and returned, holding it out for the horse to take. She only took her attention away from the prized mare when Ellis had pulled the cart around. Silently she sat on the bench beside the young boy as he snapped the reins, urging the horse to begin moving down the dirt drive.

The woods passed in a blur regardless of the moderate pace they were traveling. She sat in silence until Ellis looked up at her, his brown hair a ruffled mess and his green eyes filled with youth and unconventionally optimistic hopes. "Are you alright, Miss?"

She glanced over at the boy and nodded, though it was rather unconvincing, "Yes, Ellis. I will be fine." He did not speak of it again. The first buildings of London came into sight as the late morning began. The city had an air of sickness but it was quickly forgotten when more people filed into the street. Lines of men had formed, all signing up for an almost imminent death. Many were nothing more than boys, under the belief that once they had experienced war they would return home a man. Scatha's iron shoes clacked on the cobble pavement and Izabella watched on, sickened by the display of patriotism.

Ellis halted the cart near one of the city hospitals, a small smirk on his lips. She looked at the boy and almost smiled as he went on, turning around to return back to the estate. Izabella looked around, clutching the handle of her bag tightly and gathering her nerve she stepped closer to the small line of women, all of which were dressed in white nursing dresses. She fell in at the back of the line and waited until she was called up to the table.