He hesitated, willing her to meet his gaze. But no, she didn’t acknowledge him at all. Merely stared at the ceiling, the tears coming fast and free, though she made no sound.
She must have known he remained standing. That he was waiting for something from her.
But she didn’t ask him to come back. Didn’t beg him to be with her.
Didn’t ask anything of him, in fact.
And that was hardest of all.
Chapter 18
The storm raged for two days. Outside, the trees whipped from side to side like demented creatures. Just like Jemima, felt, really, as, desperate with fear and frustration, she paced her bare room, intoning to herself the mantra that what she was doing was her only way forward. Her only way toward the independence she craved.
When a knock on the door sounded late on the second evening—a knock that was not the maid’s—Jemima was seated at the table opposite a plate
of untouched food; still full of doubt and terrified of what her future held. So much had happened in this past year, and she was vulnerable without a protector. But she would enter into no more bargains with men.
However, the echo of the knock made her heart lurch with hope and confusion at the same time. Had Miles come back to test her one more time? And, if it was Miles, would she give in and grant him what he wanted? What all men wanted, she thought bitterly before reflecting that she was an immoral creature for it was what she wanted, too.
To her surprise, a homely looking woman stood in the doorway. She was well, if plainly dressed in a black round gown with grey trimmings, and her manner was brisk.
“Good evening, ma’am. My name is Miss Bridges, and I understand you are desirous of a travelling companion.” Her lively eyes regarded Jemima with interest, giving her the appearance of a much younger woman trapped in a middle-aged woman’s body.
Smoothing her hair beneath her bonnet—quite frivolous given the rest of her staid outfit—the woman went on before Jemima had a chance to reply, “I’ve just been informed that the storm is abating and our ship sails tomorrow. I speak French fluently and am competent in Greek, if your plan is to continue that far. In fact, I have a dear friend living in Constantinople whom I would like to visit. Now, I’m happy to do whatever is required in attending to you” she added as, dazed, Jemima stood aside, and Miss Bridges stepped into the room and looked about her.
Jemima wondered if there’d been a miscommunication. “It’s true I desire a traveling companion,” she stammered, following in Miss Bridges’ wake when she’d gathered her wits. It was as if her dreams had been answered. “Though I…am unsure in what capacity you wish to offer your services. In terms of payment—.”
The woman, who’d just removed her hat and cloak, turned back from hanging up the garments on a hook near the door. “My wages have been paid in advance, Miss Mordaunt. I’m very happy with the arrangement.”
“You’ve been paid?” And she knew who Jemima was?
“Oh, I won’t press my services if they’re not wanted,” Miss Bridges replied hastily. Her brow creased. “But you were seeking a companion to travel to Constantinople, I was given to understand?”
“Yes, I was, ma’am.”
“And you’ve not secured the services of anyone else? No? Good, well the captain informs me we shall board at dawn tomorrow,” she continued, visibly relaxing as she removed her bonnet. “With the bad weather finally blowing over, the timing couldn’t have been better, as I told Lord Ruthcot. He’s long known of my desire to visit the Ottoman Empire and he was quick to ensure I was able to ready myself to be of assistance.” Miss Bridges went to the window, turning with a smile that suggested a great pleasure in her current situation while she considered Jemima with greater interest. “You’re as beautiful as he said.”
“As who said? Lord Ruthcot? He sent you here?”
Miss Bridges inclined her head. “The darling boy. He did indeed, and delighted he was to be able to do so, knowing that I am a great deal more adventurous than I look or have ever been allowed to be.”
“So you are related to Lord Ruthcot?” This plain, kindly-faced, middle-aged woman bore little resemblance to his dashing lordship.
“Poor relation, of course. Intolerable position to be in. I hope you’re not having second thoughts about your grand adventure, Miss Mordaunt? For which you most definitely need someone to accompany you,” she added pointedly.
Jemima shook her head before asking the question uppermost in her mind. Her heart had not calmed down since the knock on the door she’d thought might be his. “Where is Lord Ruthcot now?”
“He had some business to attend to, though he hopes to return before we set sail. Oh, don’t worry, he’s not going to try and change your mind about leaving or change his mind and stop me from having the adventure of a lifetime.” Miss Bridges clasped her hands demurely in front of her and put her head on one side. When she smiled, her plain face was transformed. “You really are a treasure, my dear. The very glittering prize he described you. And now you’re off to seek your own treasure, I believe. Well, I will serve you faithfully in whatever capacity is needed, I promise. And I’ll be grateful for it.”
For a moment Jemima wished it was Lord Ruthcot standing where Miss Bridges was standing now. Then she quailed at the thought of him returning here. “I shan’t change my mind. I’m determined upon my mission,” she said, firmly.
“Good!”
Upon closer inspection, and with that disarming smile, Jemima detected a certain similarity to the man she’d loved. Curious, she asked, “What, exactly, is the nature of your kinship with Lord Ruthcot?”
Miss Bridges looked up from folding back Jemima’s bed. She was taking her duties seriously.
“I’m his first cousin. The youngest of six sisters and with not a feather to fly with. Not acknowledged by the family, I might add, though Miles has always been kind, for I was like a big sister to him in his youth and he’s not forgotten that, bless him.”