Skip to main content

Today's Reading

"We're only a mile or two away," ventured Ismay. "If I could get out here, I might catch him."

"The conductor will have telegraphed the station, petal. He'll know we're stranded and expect you to be put up in town. You can go through to the village in the morning. I'll take you myself."

Ismay fidgeted with the corners of her commonplace book. "I was meant to arrive today. I don't want to make a poor impression."

"He's a very reasonable man, in that respect. I promise he won't hold you to account for the actions of the Southwestern Railway."

"Then I suppose this is the best time to mention," said Jeremy, materializing from nowhere with a tray of cakes in his hands, "that we may be delayed here until morning."

"You must be joking," cried Mr. Williams. "All night?"

The back of Ismay's neck prickled. The walls of the carriage pressed inward, buckling under the weight of her guilt over this delay, as well as all those other mistakes she carried with her. Caroline seemed sweet, and reassuring enough, but Ismay would, categorically, not be staying on this train a moment longer. Luckily, she had brought with her one means of escape from this odd prison.

"My bicycle is in the hold," she explained to the steward. "Could I go and collect it?"

"Miss, I cannot allow you to disembark; it's too dangerous."

"I'm a strong cyclist, and I really can't wait. A few miles won't take me long, even through a field."

"You're mad," said Mr. Williams, his elbow on the back of his seat, staring at her with a rage that she recognized too quickly. Her cheeks burned.

"I only want to get where I'm going."

"The roads are rough, petal, and past town they're nearly all uphill." Caroline's voice rang with concern, but in her words was also something of a challenge. The shimmer returned to the corners of the woman's eyes, and Ismay steeled herself against the disapproval of the two men. This was her last chance, her only chance, to right all the things she had toppled so spectacularly, and so she would be at Mossgaan before midnight if it was the last thing she did. Southwestern Railway be damned.

"I'm quite capable," she said. "I'd like my bicycle, please."

The steward and Caroline turned to each other, and for a moment Ismay wondered if Jeremy might try to physically restrain her.

"It's only my trunk I'm worried about," said Ismay. "If I go on without it—"

"Oh," Caroline said. "Ismay, dear, if you truly cannot be stopped, the least I can do is see that your baggage reaches you in the morning. I know where you're going. I'll make sure the trunk follows."

Ismay stood up, clasping her hands behind her back. In honesty, she could be stopped. She had been stopped already—from teaching, from attending parties, from venturing outside, from everything. Ismay had been stopped a thousand times by a thousand obstacles. Any more trouble might stop her heart as well. Blessedly, though they stared at her rather aghast, neither Jeremy nor Paterson Williams put another one in her path.

"Wonderful," she said, hoping to make it true. "For I'm afraid I cannot be stopped."


By the time she came to the station at Netherbright, Ismay understood the extent of her error in judgment. The land alongside the tracks, when not muddy or rocky, was full of holes, and she walked her bicycle as much as she pedaled it, rolling over her ankles again and again. The lights of the terminus—rather mocking, blinking at her there in the distance—anticipated the gentle glow of Netherbright's high street, gradually growing nearer.

Shuffling into the low-ceilinged station with legs already aching, her back was so stiff she struggled to right herself. Only a couple of miles, and she was in pieces. Ismay was used to the easy routes around Skerry, gentle hills and even city roads. She was not as strong as she claimed to be, but neither would she yield to her fatigue. She could not fail. Ismay rolled her shoulders back and found the ticket office.

What our readers think...

| Online Book Clubs Skip to main content

Today's Reading

"We're only a mile or two away," ventured Ismay. "If I could get out here, I might catch him."

"The conductor will have telegraphed the station, petal. He'll know we're stranded and expect you to be put up in town. You can go through to the village in the morning. I'll take you myself."

Ismay fidgeted with the corners of her commonplace book. "I was meant to arrive today. I don't want to make a poor impression."

"He's a very reasonable man, in that respect. I promise he won't hold you to account for the actions of the Southwestern Railway."

"Then I suppose this is the best time to mention," said Jeremy, materializing from nowhere with a tray of cakes in his hands, "that we may be delayed here until morning."

"You must be joking," cried Mr. Williams. "All night?"

The back of Ismay's neck prickled. The walls of the carriage pressed inward, buckling under the weight of her guilt over this delay, as well as all those other mistakes she carried with her. Caroline seemed sweet, and reassuring enough, but Ismay would, categorically, not be staying on this train a moment longer. Luckily, she had brought with her one means of escape from this odd prison.

"My bicycle is in the hold," she explained to the steward. "Could I go and collect it?"

"Miss, I cannot allow you to disembark; it's too dangerous."

"I'm a strong cyclist, and I really can't wait. A few miles won't take me long, even through a field."

"You're mad," said Mr. Williams, his elbow on the back of his seat, staring at her with a rage that she recognized too quickly. Her cheeks burned.

"I only want to get where I'm going."

"The roads are rough, petal, and past town they're nearly all uphill." Caroline's voice rang with concern, but in her words was also something of a challenge. The shimmer returned to the corners of the woman's eyes, and Ismay steeled herself against the disapproval of the two men. This was her last chance, her only chance, to right all the things she had toppled so spectacularly, and so she would be at Mossgaan before midnight if it was the last thing she did. Southwestern Railway be damned.

"I'm quite capable," she said. "I'd like my bicycle, please."

The steward and Caroline turned to each other, and for a moment Ismay wondered if Jeremy might try to physically restrain her.

"It's only my trunk I'm worried about," said Ismay. "If I go on without it—"

"Oh," Caroline said. "Ismay, dear, if you truly cannot be stopped, the least I can do is see that your baggage reaches you in the morning. I know where you're going. I'll make sure the trunk follows."

Ismay stood up, clasping her hands behind her back. In honesty, she could be stopped. She had been stopped already—from teaching, from attending parties, from venturing outside, from everything. Ismay had been stopped a thousand times by a thousand obstacles. Any more trouble might stop her heart as well. Blessedly, though they stared at her rather aghast, neither Jeremy nor Paterson Williams put another one in her path.

"Wonderful," she said, hoping to make it true. "For I'm afraid I cannot be stopped."


By the time she came to the station at Netherbright, Ismay understood the extent of her error in judgment. The land alongside the tracks, when not muddy or rocky, was full of holes, and she walked her bicycle as much as she pedaled it, rolling over her ankles again and again. The lights of the terminus—rather mocking, blinking at her there in the distance—anticipated the gentle glow of Netherbright's high street, gradually growing nearer.

Shuffling into the low-ceilinged station with legs already aching, her back was so stiff she struggled to right herself. Only a couple of miles, and she was in pieces. Ismay was used to the easy routes around Skerry, gentle hills and even city roads. She was not as strong as she claimed to be, but neither would she yield to her fatigue. She could not fail. Ismay rolled her shoulders back and found the ticket office.

What our readers think...