Echoes of Destiny: Part 18

Shopping

Amid the bustling streets of Brooklyn, Marie, Breid, and Mrs. Branson embarked on a shopping excursion that offered a glimmer of excitement and normalcy amidst the recent tragedy. Tom had insisted that they be outfitted with new clothes and toiletries, determined to ease their transition into normalcy after their ordeal. He had even told them the shops that he has a credit line with and given them a detailed note to ensure that all expenses were billed to him.

Their first stop was a quaint clothing store with large display windows that showcased an array of fashionable garments. Marie's eyes widened as she stepped inside, greeted by the sight of elegant dresses, blouses, and skirts. Breid excitedly browsed through racks of dresses, her fingers grazing the soft fabrics. The dresses were a testament to the prevailing fashion of the time, featuring high necklines, long sleeves, and graceful A-line silhouettes. Marie was drawn to a deep green dress adorned with delicate embroidery, envisioning herself wearing it with a sense of poise.

"Oh, look at this one, Marie! It's a lovely shade of blue. What do you think?" Breid held up a dress with intricate lace detailing, reminiscent of the delicate femininity that characterized women's attire in the latest fashion magazines.

Marie examined the dress, a smile tugging at her lips. "It's beautiful, Breid. You have an eye for fashion."

Mrs. Branson nodded in agreement. "Indeed, it suits you. And Marie, perhaps you'd like to try something in a similar style?"

Marie hesitated, her gaze sweeping over the colourful array of clothing. "I suppose I should, shouldn't I? After all, it's time to start building my wardrobe anew."

With Breid's guidance and Mrs. Branson's encouragement, Marie found herself selecting a few outfits that caught her eye. The trio moved on to a cosmetics store, where Marie marvelled at the assortment of makeup and skincare products lining the shelves. The products exuded a sense of sophistication, consistent with the refined tastes of middle-class women of the era.

"I must admit, I've never been much of a cosmetics enthusiast," Marie confessed, glancing at the variety of products.

Breid chuckled. "Well, Marie, it's never too late to start. Besides, a little makeup can do wonders for your confidence."

Mrs. Branson added, "And taking care of your skin is important. We'll make sure you have everything you need."

After their successful shopping spree, Marie, Breid, and Mrs. Branson emerged from the stores with packages filled with their purchases, anything to bulky for the women to carry were going to be delivered to Tom's address. The weight of their losses seemed momentarily lifted, replaced by a sense of renewal and hope.

The trio's journey led them to a grand department store in Brooklyn, a place unlike any Breid had experienced before. The towering aisles were adorned with ornate displays, and a sense of awe filled the air as shoppers bustled about.

"Goodness, I've never seen anything like this before!" Breid exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder as she took in the sight of bustling shoppers and gleaming merchandise.

Marie's face lit up, and a sudden memory surged to the forefront of her mind. "I remember a place like this. Selfridges in London," she said with a mix of excitement and nostalgia. "It was quite a sensation back home."

Mrs. Branson smiled warmly. "Well, let's make the most of it here, shall we?"

As they wandered through the aisles, Breid admired the variety of goods available, from elegant clothing to exquisite accessories. The modest budget set by Mrs. Branson didn't dampen their enthusiasm; instead, it fostered a sense of careful consideration as they selected items that combined style and practicality. Breid found herself drawn to a pair of comfortable yet fashionable shoes, while Marie's eyes lingered on a simple but elegant handbag.

Throughout their shopping adventure, the trio engaged in lighthearted banter, sharing stories and laughter. The camaraderie that had blossomed since their fateful meeting on the Titanic was further cemented as they navigated the aisles, comparing choices and offering opinions. Their shopping excursion had transformed into a joyful bonding experience, a welcome respite from the uncertainties that lay behind and the uncertainty of Marie's identity.

Meanwhile, Tom was meticulously reviewing notices and inquiries, looking for any clues or connections that might shed light on Marie's true identity. He met with Captain Grant again, who had tirelessly sought information from fellow passengers and officials. The two men exchanged notes, each contribution inching them closer to unravelling the mystery that enveloped Marie. With determination and a shared sense of purpose, they were determined to unveil the truth and provide Marie with the answers she sought.

As the women enjoyed their shopping adventure, Tom met with Captain Grant in a quaint café, their conversation animated and focused on uncovering the truth about Marie's identity.

"Captain Grant, I appreciate your efforts in gathering information about Marie," Tom began, his tone earnest. "Every detail counts, no matter how small."

The captain nodded, his weathered face reflecting determination. "Of course, Mr Branson. I've talked to passengers, crew members—everyone who might have seen or interacted with her. But so far, no one seems to know who she is."

Tom leaned forward, his eyes intent. "We must keep digging. I have a feeling that there's more to Marie's story than meets the eye."

Captain Grant shared his findings—interviews with passengers, discussions with crew members, and even reaching out to officials on the Carpathia. They discussed the people Marie had been seen with, the possible connections, and the hints that might lead to her identity.

Meanwhile, Tom diligently scoured the notice section of local newspapers, his finger tracing over lines of text describing missing persons, lost belongings, and inquiries. He had created a checklist based on Marie's description: tall, slender, pale complexion, deep brown eyes, long wavy black hair, and the possibility of being from England. It was an exhaustive task, but Tom's commitment to finding answers was unwavering.

Hours passed as Tom meticulously reviewed each notice, his focus unyielding. Yet, despite his diligence, nothing seemed to match Marie's description. Frustration tinged his features as he continued to scan the pages, his determination gradually giving way to a sense of disappointment.

As the afternoon sunlight began to fade, Tom sighed, setting aside the newspaper with a resigned expression. He rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of their predicament. Captain Grant, sitting across from him, offered a reassuring nod.

"Tom, we've covered a lot of ground today. Remember, we're dealing with a vast city and a myriad of circumstances. The answers might not come easy, but we won't stop until we uncover the truth."

Tom appreciated the captain's encouragement, and his resolve was renewed. He leaned back in his chair, his mind racing with possibilities. Marie's story was a puzzle, and he was determined to fit the pieces together, no matter how elusive they seemed.

Back at the brownstone house in Brooklyn, the women returned with their purchases, their faces flushed with excitement and satisfaction. Tom welcomed them with a warm smile, eager to hear about their day.

As they gathered around the kitchen table, Marie, Breid, and Mrs. Branson shared tales of their shopping adventure, describing the charming shops, the stylish clothes they had chosen, and the camaraderie that had blossomed during their outing.

Tom listened intently; his heart warmed by the happiness that had permeated their day. Despite the uncertainties that loomed, this simple excursion had provided a moment of respite and joy—a reminder that even in the face of adversity, life had a way of offering moments of connection and shared laughter.

Attraction

Tom meticulously combed through the extensive passenger list of the ill-fated Titanic, his eyes tracing the lines of names, hoping to uncover a clue that would lead him to Marie's identity. Unfortunately, the name "Marie" proved to be as abundant as the sea itself, with no fewer than 58 occurrences on the list. Among these, a perplexing 22 instances were confined to second class passengers alone. Amid this overwhelming abundance of Maries, a daunting 17 remained unaccounted for, their fates and whereabouts shrouded in mystery.

Undeterred by the sheer volume of names, Tom resolved to begin his quest by focusing on these missing Maries, driven by an unrelenting determination to unravel the enigma that had brought Marie into his life. He devised a plan to reach out to the families of these missing passengers, supplying them with a detailed description of Marie's features, in the hope that some flicker of recognition might pierce the veil of uncertainty.

The evening found Tom and Marie nestled in Tom's apartment, a cocoon of lamplight illuminating their shared endeavour. Marie and Tom with shared writing supplies between them were meticulously writing to the families of the Missing 'Marie's'. Sharing Marie's likeness and that she was on board the Titanic with at least two cousins, one of whom was named 'Patrick'. They included Tom's return address and asked the families they were writing to if Marie matched the description of their own lost 'Marie'. The air was charged with a mix of anticipation and dedication as they delved into the intricate details of the list before them. For Marie, the dimly lit room seemed to emphasize the contours of Tom's profile—the curve of his jaw, the furrow of his brow—as he poured over the list with a steadfast resolve that both impressed and captivated her. The lamp light catching the green in his eyes.

As they methodically explored each entry, Marie's heart swelled with appreciation for Tom's steady commitment. His selfless determination to assist a stranger in need, resonated deeply with her, casting a warm glow over their collaborative pursuit. During their shared mission, a sense of connection began to emerge, something intangible yet powerful that transcended the confines of the task at hand.

In the quietude of the night, Marie found herself stealing glances at Tom, her gaze drawn to his expressive green eyes that seemed to hold a world of stories and experiences. With each exchanged glance, an unspoken understanding seemed to pass between them—an acknowledgment of the unexpected bond they were forging, one born from the convergence of fate and circumstance.

As the hours slipped away and the list unfurled its secrets, both Tom and Marie recognized that their partnership was evolving into something more profound than the search for a missing identity. Beneath the surface of their investigation, a mutual attraction had taken root, a magnetic force that defied explanation and drew them closer with each shared moment.

Amid the complexities of their quest and the palpable tension of the task before them, a tender connection was blossoming, neither could have foreseen. And as they continued their shared pursuit of the elusive Marie, Tom and Marie themselves embarked on a journey of discovery.

The following morning, a sense of determination hung in the air as Tom sat down at his desk, his new Waterman fountain pen in hand, ready to put his plan into motion. His eyes settled on a familiar name in his address book—Mrs Emily Barker, nee Wakefield—a friend he had met under the most extraordinary circumstances. Their paths had crossed when he had rescued her from the cold Irish sea, an act that had forged an unspoken bond between them.

With a steady hand, Tom penned a letter to Miss Wakefield, his words carrying the weight of both his concern and his hope. He described the intricate web of events that had led to his mother and sister's encounter with the enigmatic young woman known only as Marie. He recounted Marie's amnesia, her uncertain origins, and the possibility that she might be English—a connection that Miss Wakefield might be able to shed light upon.

Tom's words flowed onto the paper, conveying the urgency of the situation and the heartfelt desire to unravel the mystery that had enveloped Marie. He beseeched Miss Wakefield for her assistance, asking if she had come across any reports or notices from England regarding a woman who bore a resemblance to Marie's description—tall and slender, with a pale complexion, deep brown eyes, and long wavy black hair.

In the letter's margins, Tom included a brief sketch of Marie, a visual representation of the woman whose identity remained elusive. With each stroke of the pen, he hoped to convey the essence of Marie's appearance, to evoke a spark of recognition in anyone who might have encountered her on the other side of the Atlantic.

As he sealed the envelope, Tom's heart carried a blend of anticipation and anxiety. He entrusted his missive to the postal service, a thread connecting him to Miss Wakefield and the possibility of uncovering the truth that had remained veiled for so long.

Meanwhile, Marie continued to reside in Tom's thoughts, her presence casting a gentle shadow over his every move. He found himself returning to their shared investigation, the hours spent pouring over the passenger list, and the magnetic pull that seemed to draw them together. Amid the search for answers, a burgeoning connection had taken root, a connection that held the promise of uncovering Marie's past while forging an unexpected bond between two the two searchers.

Letter to England

My Dearest Friend Emily, 4th of May 1912

I trust this letter finds you well. Our chance meeting in the face of adversity continues to resonate, and I write to you now seeking your expertise in a matter that has arisen.

Among the survivors of the Titanic are my mother and sister, accompanied by a young woman named Marie. However, Marie's circumstances are rather unusual, and it is my hope that your insight might provide some clarity.

Marie, as we refer to her, emerged from the sea with no recollection of her identity. She possesses distinct features—tall, slender, with fair skin, deep brown eyes, and flowing black hair. At the time of her rescue, she was clad in a practical yet refined ensemble—a woollen skirt and jacket that hinted at modest elegance.

Marie's accent suggests English origins, leading me to inquire whether any reports or notices have surfaced concerning a woman resembling her description. We have combed through passenger records, yet the particulars that distinguish our Marie prove elusive. Her memory loss complicates matters, leaving us with an enigmatic puzzle.

I have enclosed a sketch capturing Marie's essence, in the hopes that your discerning eye might shed light on her identity. Your previous assistance has proven invaluable, and I extend my gratitude for any insights you may provide.

Yours sincerely,

Tom

Marie's Necklace

One sunny morning, Tom and Marie embarked on a journey to seek answers about the mysterious diamond necklace that Marie had found hidden within her clothes after her rescue. Tom's pen had once helped solve a diamond heist, and Mr. Samuel Levi, the victim, had offered his assistance if ever needed. With Marie's necklace safely tucked away, they arrived at Mr. Levi's place of business. The man was delighted to see Tom again and was immediately charmed by the lovely Marie.

Tom explained the predicament Marie was facing and hoped that the necklace could provide some hints about her identity. Carefully unwrapping the diamond necklace from a silk handkerchief, Marie presented it to Mr. Levi for examination. His experienced eyes scrutinized the diamonds and their settings. "These diamonds are indeed of exceptional quality," he remarked, peering at the piece with his eyeglass. "The craftsmanship suggests a master jeweller's hand. And right here, you see these markings on the back? This little crown indicates it hails from Sheffield."

The mention of Sheffield triggered excitement in Tom's mind. His thoughts wandered to his benefactor, Mr. Wakefield, who hailed from the same place. Mr. Levi continued to explain, "Regrettably, I'm not well-versed in deciphering these other marks. To determine the exact year and the shop that produced this necklace, you'd need to consult an expert in English jewellery or perhaps visit the assay office in Sheffield directly."

With great interest, Mr. Levi extended his eyeglass to Marie and Tom, allowing them to examine the markings on the necklace's back. Marie's heart raced with anticipation, her mind brimming with the possibility of uncovering the secrets behind her origins. Tom was equally thrilled, hoping that this revelation might lead them closer to the truth.

Expressing his sincere gratitude, Tom thanked Mr. Levi for his invaluable insights. As they left Mr. Levi's company, Marie and Tom set out into the bustling city, their minds abuzz with newfound hope and anticipation.

Lunch Date

After their meeting with Mr. Levi, Tom and Marie decided to take a break and have lunch at a local diner. Tom took the opportunity to share a bit of New York slang with Marie, explaining that "a cup of Joe" was a colloquial term for coffee. They ordered their cups of coffee and then turned their attention to the menu. Tom opted for a hearty beef sandwich, while Marie chose the smoked salmon.

As they waited for their food to arrive, they discussed the information they had gleaned from Mr. Levi about the diamond necklace. "So, it comes from Sheffield. Does that sound familiar to you?" Tom asked, curious to see if this detail triggered any memories for Marie.

Marie furrowed her brow in thought. "I was never the best at geography, but I believe that's up north in England," she replied. The name "Sheffield" did ring a bell, and Marie found herself visualizing green fields and woods, as if she had some connection to the place. She recounted this memory to Tom, her voice tinged with a sense of wonder.

Tom listened intently, and then a spark of recognition lit up his face. "You know, that's quite interesting. I actually know someone from Sheffield," he said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Marie's curiosity was piqued. "Really? Who is it?"

Tom's eyes held a hint of amusement. "A gentleman by the name of Mr. George Wakefield. He's been a kind friend to me and has provided invaluable assistance and advice over the years."

Marie's eyes widened with realization. "Mr. Wakefield? Wait, is he the one you mentioned before? The man whose daughter you rescued his from the Irish Sea?"

Tom nodded, impressed by Marie's memory. "Yes, that's the one. He's from Sheffield, and I must say, our encounter was quite fortuitous."

Marie couldn't help but admire Tom's bravery and selflessness in saving a stranger's life. "You truly are a remarkable person, Tom. Risking your own life to help someone else."

Tom's cheeks reddened slightly, and he waved off the compliment. "It was simply the right thing to do."

Marie's gaze lingered on Tom, her admiration for him growing stronger by the moment. As their lunch arrived and they continued to chat, Marie found herself drawn to Tom's charismatic personality and his steadfast character.

As their lunch continued, Tom and Marie delved deeper into their conversation, discovering more common interests. Marie was pleasantly surprised to find out that Tom was an avid reader, much like herself. Their discussion led them to realize that they had both read some of the same books. Marie's eyes widened in astonishment when Tom mentioned that he had read Mary Wollstonecraft's treatise, "A Vindication of the Rights of Woman."

"Truly?" Marie exclaimed, a mixture of surprise and excitement in her voice. "I must admit, I'm impressed that you've read such a progressive work."

Tom chuckled, a hint of pride in his expression. "Well, Marie, I firmly believe in the suffrage of women. When I've been surrounded by capable women all my life, I can't fathom why they shouldn't have an equal voice in society, including politics."

Marie nodded thoughtfully, her eyes shining with a newfound respect for Tom's principles. "It's a noble belief, Tom. I may not recall much of my past, but I do feel strongly that women should have the opportunity to contribute fully to society and chart their own destinies."

Tom leaned in, genuinely curious. "Have you always held such views, Marie?"

A thoughtful expression crossed Marie's face, and though her memories were fragmented, she felt a sense of continuity in her beliefs. "Yes, I believe so. Even without recalling my past, there's an inherent sense within me that pushes against the boundaries placed upon women. I remember... I remember having arguments with someone, a man who was jovial yet stubborn. We debated about women's education, about the right to learn and grow."

Tom was genuinely impressed by Marie's conviction. "You have a remarkable spirit, Marie. It's clear that your beliefs have remained steadfast."

Their conversation continued to flow effortlessly, touching upon various topics and revealing more about their shared values and aspirations. Marie found herself drawn to Tom's intellect and his unwavering support for women's rights. Tom, in turn, admired Marie's determination and the fire that burned within her. As the afternoon waned and their discussion deepened, their connection seemed to strengthen.

Memories Returning

They the discussed Marie's returned memory. Tom asked her to try and describe it. Part of the memory that had returned to Marie was a glimpse of a study or perhaps even a library, a place where knowledge and learning were valued. As she shared this fragment with Tom, he furrowed his brows in thought. "A library would certainly suggest a more affluent household, perhaps even a grand residence, far beyond the means of an average middle-class family," Tom mused aloud, his fingers tapping against his chin in contemplation.

Finishing their lunch, Marie made a gracious offer to pay, wanting to contribute in her own way. Tom chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Well, in the spirit of furthering the equality of the sexes, I suppose I should graciously accept," he quipped, a playful glint in his green eyes.

Marie smiled, realizing that she had never encountered a man quite like Tom. In response to his teasing, she playfully retorted, "True, I may not remember everyone I've met before, but I have a feeling you're quite unique."

Their carefree banter continued as they strolled back to Tom's comfortable brownstone home in the heart of Brooklyn. Both felt a flutter of anticipation and a quickening of their heartbeats, the unspoken bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment.

Inside Tom's home, Marie's eyes took in the warm and inviting surroundings, reflecting the character of its owner. As they settled into the cosy ambiance, Tom shared his efforts to help Marie discover her identity. "I've already written to my friend Emily, seeking her assistance in locating your family in England," Tom explained, his voice earnest. Marie's heart skipped a beat at the mention of another woman, but she quickly dismissed the pang of jealousy.

Tom continued; his determination unwavering. "Next, I plan to write to Emily's father, Mr. Wakefield. He may be able to help identify the jeweller who crafted your necklace, which could provide more clues about your past." Tom said with a reassuring smile.

Newspaper Article

Two days later, the Bransons and Marie gathered in Tom's warm kitchen, their heads bent together in deep contemplation. It was already May of 1912, and the ticking clock seemed to echo the urgency of their situation. They anxiously awaited replies from Tom's inquiries, their hopes and expectations building with each passing day.

Breid, ever the practical thinker, broke the thoughtful silence. "Why don't you write an article in your newspaper, Tom? You could include a picture of Marie, couldn't you?" she suggested, her eyes alight with a spark of inspiration.

Tom's expression transformed from contemplative to flabbergasted in an instant. "Breid Branson, you're a genius," he exclaimed, his surprise mingling with admiration. He leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his sister's forehead, his gratitude evident.

A warm smile curved Mrs. Branson's lips as she observed her children's interaction. She nodded in agreement with Breid's suggestion, pleased that her daughter had come up with such a clever plan.

Amidst the backdrop of an ongoing national inquiry, which had captured the country's attention under the leadership of a prominent politician, Senator William Alden Smith, Tom acknowledged the potential of such a story in his newspaper. He warned, however, that with the inquiry holding the spotlight, Marie's tale might not secure a prime spot on the front page. Marie breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to avoid the scrutiny of a front-page feature.

With a determined nod, Tom set the wheels in motion. He arranged for Marie's photograph to be taken at a nearby studio, using his connections to garner a favour due to Marie's unique circumstances. The intrigued photographer readily agreed, promising to expedite the processing of the photo overnight.

In a shrewd move, Tom secretly arranged for a second copy of the photograph to be developed, a personal memento that he intended to keep for himself. As the plans were set into motion, the sense of anticipation in the room was palpable, each member of the group feeling the weight of the next step in their quest to unveil Marie's identity.

"An Enigma of the Sea: Seeking Answers for a Titanic Survivor"

On the 8th of May 1912, the pages of the New York Post held a story that would capture the attention of its readers and kindle the hope of a young woman seeking to reclaim her identity. Tom's words flowed from his pen, each sentence carefully crafted to convey the mystery and uncertainty surrounding Marie's predicament. The headline read:

"An Enigma of the Sea: Seeking Answers for a Titanic Survivor"

The article delved into the tale of a young woman, found among the survivors of the Titanic disaster, her memory wiped clean by the trauma she endured. It painted a poignant picture of Marie's plight, recounting her journey from the icy depths of the Atlantic to the shores of New York. Tom's words wove a narrative that tugged at the heartstrings of the city's inhabitants, inviting them to step into Marie's shoes and join the search for her lost past.

Accompanying the article was a striking photograph of Marie, her features captured in black and white. The camera had caught her in a moment of contemplation, her eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and vulnerability. It was an image that spoke volumes, drawing the reader's gaze and inviting them to connect with the enigma at the heart of the story.

Tom's concluding words held a plea, a call to action that resonated beyond the ink and paper. "If anyone possesses any information, no matter how insignificant it may seem, that could help us unveil the identity of this brave survivor, we implore you to contact the New York Post. Together, we can unravel the mystery that surrounds her and offer hope to a woman seeking to reclaim her past."

As the ink dried on the printed pages and the newspapers made their way into the hands of eager readers, the city of New York became a stage for Marie's story to unfold. The article sparked conversations in coffee shops, street corners, and homes, its impact reaching far beyond the confines of its printed words. And amidst it all, Marie's hopeful gaze, frozen in time within the photograph, served as a silent beacon, guiding those who might hold the key to her forgotten history.

Disappointment & Hope

Marie's hopes of finding a connection to her past were met with a bitter twist of fate. Unbeknownst to the Bransons, the two individuals who could potentially unveil Marie's identity had departed for England just weeks before. Marie's grandmother, Mrs. Levingston, and Mrs. Delwimple, the woman who knew her as Lady Mary Crawley, were now out of reach.

As days passed by with no new information arriving about her identity, Marie felt a sense of longing and frustration wash over her. It seemed that the answers she sought were unlikely to be found in New York or America.

Tom, Breid, and Mrs. Branson, too, felt a pang of disappointment. But even in the face of no results from Tom's article in the weeks after it was written, their determination remained unshaken. They continued to explore every avenue available to them, hoping that someone, somewhere, might hold a piece of the puzzle.

Even though the article in the New York Post had sparked a spark of interest, and they believed that their efforts would eventually yield the breakthrough they so desperately sought. Until a breakthrough from an unlikely source arises, in the form of a letter from an old friend.

Dear Tom, 18th of May 1912

I hope this letter finds you well. I have been diligently checking the newspapers here in England, but there seems to be no mention of a missing woman matching the description you provided for Marie. It's quite perplexing, to say the least.

Regarding the matter of Marie's clothes, you mentioned that they were of well-made quality. In that case, there might be a label or tag inside the garments indicating the establishment that made them. If you were to return to England and investigate further, you might be able to trace back the origins of her attire. It could lead you to the shop or boutique where they were purchased, which might in turn provide valuable information about Marie's identity.

I understand that you and Marie are invested in solving this mystery, and I admire your dedication to helping her. Please keep me updated on any progress or developments. If there's anything else I can do to assist, please do not hesitate to let me know.

Wishing you all the best in your endeavours.

Warm regards,

Emily

After reading the letter from Emily excitement went through the house. Breid and Marie hurried to their room to look at the clothes Marie was wearing the night the Titanic sunk. Marie removed the jacket she had been wearing from the wardrobe and laid it out on the bed. Marie and Breid looked inside the jacket and indeed saw a label. Bringing the label closer to the light they could see it and it read, 'Madam Swann', "Can you see what else it says there Breid", Marie asks. "I think it says Ripon".

Breid and Marie return to the kitchen and told Tom and Mrs Branson the shop was in the town of 'Rippon'.

Tom got up from the table "I will get my Atlas". Tom went over to his bookcase standing next to the window and selected the book he was looking for and brought it back to the kitchen table.

Tom flipped open the book to the beginning of the British Isles pages, "So does anyone have any idea of where exactly Rippon is?" he asked. The others just shrugged. "Shall we look near Sheffield, as this is the only name we know so far?" Suggested Mrs Branson.

Tom carefully turned the pages until he reached the map that held Sheffield, "I'll just get my magnifying glass,". With the magnifying glass they scanned the page. "There it is, north of Sheffield" Marie pointed out. "Yorkshire! Does this trigger any memory?" Breid asks, Marie just shook her head. Tom looked in the index of the atlas. "There's no additional information here", he said closing the book. Looking at Marie with a smile he said "it seems you might be a Yorkshire Lass", "So it seems" Marie smiled back at him.

More Memories Return

That night Marie found herself in a hazy dreamscape, as Marie lay in the bed she shared with Breid, she was surrounded by whispers of memories and fragments of the past. Two figures emerged before her; their faces bathed in a soft, ethereal light. It was as if they were standing at the edges of her consciousness, waiting to be recognized.

Edith and Sybil, their names echoed in the depths of her mind, evoking a sense of familiarity and belonging. Their voices carried on a gentle breeze, snippets of conversation that tugged at her heartstrings.

In her dream, she found herself in hazy rooms, and mist covered gardens, the details just out of range as she reached for them. Two young women stood before her, one of their faces gentle and familiar the other twisted in anger. One had a mischievous glint in her eye, while the other exuded frustrated fury. Marie felt a strong connection to them, a sense of fellowship that went beyond mere acquaintance.

As she observed their interactions, their names whispered through her mind. Snatches of conversations and arguments between the three of them. The names carried a weight of recognition, as if they were old friends from a distant past. Marie felt a kinship as she gazed at the two women, a feeling of belonging that was both comforting and bewildering.

And then, as the dream continued to unfold, another realization dawned upon Marie. A name, her name, emerged from the depths of her consciousness like a long-lost treasure rising to the surface. A snippet of an argument:

'Edith's voice dripped with disdain. "Oh, right, the sacrifices of wealth and status. How ever will you cope, Mary?"'

Mary. The name resonated within her; a chord struck that reverberated through her very being.

In her dream, Mary embraced the newfound clarity, Edith, Sybil, and Mary, sisters. The threads of her past began to weave together. A veil on part of her identity at last had been lifted.

And then, just as quickly as the dream had enveloped her, Marie found herself drifting back into wakefulness. The room around her was bathed in the soft glow of morning light, and she lay still for a moment, holding on to the echoes of the dream.

Though the details remained elusive, the essence of Edith and Sybil's presence lingered, leaving Marie with a sense of wonder and a growing realization. Could it be that her name, her name, was Mary? The possibility danced on the edge of her consciousness, a beacon of hope guiding her through the mysteries that awaited her in this new chapter of her life.

As Mary lay in the bed relishing the feel of her true name 'Mary' and that she had sisters called Edith and Sybil. She couldn't wait to start the day so she could tell Tom what she had found out about herself.

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