Page 44 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

I came out of the deep depths of a good story. I had been on the gloomy moors of England in the dreary hallways of Thornfield Hall. It took a moment to remember where I was.

She pointed at her sister across from us. Miss Lavinia was slumped against the window fast asleep. She held her embroidery limply on her lap.

Emily then pointed to the door. I nodded. She wanted us to leave the compartment. I was pained to go. How hard it was to leave a good book behind! I reluctantly put the copy of Jane Eyre down on the bench beside me. I knew we hadn’t come onto the train to read.

Outside of our compartment, the rock and rattle of the train was that much more pronounced. I didn’t know if it was because the outer part of the train was less insulated or because we were standing upright. I braced my hand against the wall.

“This is much like being on a boat,” Emily said. “I imagine we’re going to feel like we are still on a train long after our feet hit the immovable ground.”

“What are we doing out here?” I asked.

“You said that you saw Mr.Johnson about to board the train, and we are going to find him. We need to know what he’s up to. It’s time we got to work on the real reason we are here.”

“How are we going to find him? We can’t knock on every compartment’s door,” I said.

The train jerked a little on the track, and I braced my hands on the wall again.

“That’s easy. I think I know where a man like Mr.Johnson would go.” She stepped around me and started to the back of the train.

I could do nothing but follow her. We went through the first-class car, where the passengers were in small yet comfortable rooms behind closed compartment doors, and then went into the second-class passenger cars. People sat in rows throughout the compartment. They were pressed close together as if they were in crowded church pews.

Many of them were sleeping, and their heads lulled to one side or the other. No one said a word to us or even glanced in our direction. It was hard for me to believe that a person like Mr.Johnson would sit in such a crowded place. He certainly had a compartment of his very own. As a stable owner, I assumed he could afford a first-class ticket.

After the second-class car came the dining car, which was all but empty. The evening meal would not be for another hour. Silverware and crystal glistened ready and waiting on the tables covered in crisp white linens. Each table held a vase of flowers and a candle in a glass votive just waiting to be lit. I had to wonder where the flowers came from in February.

After the dining car, we came into the lounge car. It was a room of windows even over our heads. I could see the bright blue sky. The room smelled of tobacco and people packed closely together. I touched a hand to my nose. Neither was a scent I cared for. It seemed that every man in the compartment was smoking either a pipe or cigar. Blue smoke was thick in the air. The compartment went dead quiet when we stepped inside. We were the only women in the space.

A man with a luxurious mustache shook the newspaper that he had been reading rather aggressively, and that seemed to be all that was needed to break the spell. Conversation resumed.

I grabbed Emily’s arm. “I don’t think many young ladies are welcome in this part of the train.”

“Nonsense. The conductor told us about the lounge car himself.” Emily stared up as the sky and tree limbs flew above the train. “The world is gone by,” she murmured, and then she murmured the same words again as if she were testing them.

I looked around the lounge, and I finally spotted Mr.Johnson on a leather-covered bench. He was smoking and staring out the window.

Most of the men in the compartment were doing the same. It was as if they were each in their own little worlds, save for the few that resumed lively conversations about politics. I supposed it made sense that politics would be a main topic of conversation among the passengers headed to Washington.

I touched Emily’s arm. “He’s here,” I whispered.

Emily’s lips curved into a smile. “Just as I expected. You will find, Willa, that most conventional people are predictable as to what they will do next.”

“I don’t think anyone would say that Mr.Johnson was conventional.”

“Conventional in thinking.”

I wasn’t sure what Emily meant by that, but I guessed I was quite conventional in my thinking too. I certainly didn’t have a mind like Emily, or like any member of the Dickinson family for that matter. Was it because I had been born without it or was it that I was of another class and I didn’t have time to nurture it?

“Now what do we do?” I asked.

“It’s a very good question,” a male voice said. “I was going to ask the same thing.”

I turned and gasped as I found Matthew Thomas standing in the middle of the train car. He was out of his policeman’s uniform and in a traveling suit.

“Matthew!” I yelped. “I mean Officer Thomas, what are you doing here?”

Emily raised her brow at my reaction.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Matthew said.

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