A Christmas Journey by Anne Perry Page A

count.”
    â€œIt counts,” he assured her. “Do not underestimate the difficulties ahead, just because you are not alone. Vespasia may ease some of it for you, both by her presence and her wit and courage, but it is you who must face Mrs. Naylor. Should she do that for you, then indeed you will not have made your expiation. If you should lie, society may forgive you, unable to prove your deceit, but you will know, and that is what matters in the end.”
    â€œI won’t lie!” Isobel said stiffly, anger tight in her voice.
    â€œOf course you will not,” he agreed. “And Vespasia will be your witness, in case Mrs. Naylor is not inclined to be.”
    Isobel bit her lip. “I admit, I had not thought of that. I suppose it would not be surprising. I … I wish I knew what that letter said!”
    His face shadowed. “You cannot,” he said with a note of warning. “I am afraid that uncertainty is part of your journey. Now you must go, or you may miss the train. It is a long wait until the next one.” He turned to Vespasia. “Much will happen to you before I see you again, my dear. Please God, the harvest of it will be good. Godspeed.”
    â€œGood-bye, Omegus,” she answered, accepting his hand to climb up into the trap and seat herself with the rug wrapped around her knees.
    The groom urged the pony forward as Isobel clasped her hands in front of her, staring ahead into the wind, and Vespasia turned once to see Omegus still standing in the doorway, a slender figure, arms by his sides, but still watching them until they went around the corner of the driveway and the great elm tree trunks closed him from sight.

PART TWO

    The train journey to London seemed tedious, but it was in fact very short, little more than two hours, compared with the forthcoming journey northward. In London they took separate hansoms to their individual houses in order to pack more suitable clothes for the next step. Evening gowns would not be needed, and there would be no ladies’ maids to care for them. Additional winter skirts and heavier jackets, boots, and capes were definite requisites.
    Isobel and Vespasia agreed to meet at Euston Station preparatory to catch the northbound train at five o’clock that afternoon. Vespasia arrived first, and was angry with herself for being anxious in case Isobel at the last moment lost her nerve. She paced back and forth on the freezing platform. Odd how railway stations always seemed to funnel the wind until it increased its strength and its biting edge to twice whatever it was anywhere else! And of course, the air was full of steam, flying smuts of soot, and the noise—shouting, doors clanging to, and people coming and going.
    Then fifteen minutes before the train was due to depart, she saw Isobel’s tall figure sweeping ahead of a porter with her baggage, her head jerking from right to left as she searched for Vespasia, obviously afflicted by the same fear of facing the journey, and its more dreadful arrival, alone.
    â€œThank heaven!” she said, her voice shaking with intense relief as she saw Vespasia. She waved her arm at the porter. “Thank you! This will be excellent. Please put them aboard for me.” And she opened her reticule to find an appropriate reward for him.
    â€œDid you doubt me?” Vespasia asked her.
    â€œOf course not!” Isobel said with feeling. “Did you doubt me?”
    â€œOf course not!” Vespasia replied, smiling.
    â€œLiar!” Isobel smiled back. “It’s going to be awful, isn’t it!” It was not a question.
    â€œI should think so,” Vespasia agreed. “Do you wish to turn back?”
    Isobel pulled a rueful face, and there was honesty and fear in her eyes. “I would love to, but it would be worse in the end. Besides, I told those wretched people that I would. I sealed my fate then. Nothing this could do to me would be worse than