Page 59 of A Modest Independence

“It hasn’t all been one-sided. Surely you know that.”

“I do, and I thank God for it, but it doesn’t change how I’ve wronged you.” He regarded her steadily. “I want you to know that I’m sorry—truly sorry—that I didn’t respect your wishes at Dover. But I can’t be sorry I’m here. Being with you on this journey…I wish I could say I was sorry for that, but I can’t. If I did, it would be a lie. And I won’t lie to you, Jenny.”

Her mouth curved in a rueful smile. “We’ve become a pair of liars during this journey, haven’t we? I daresay we shall have to make some sort of penance for it when we return to England.”

Tom’s heart stopped in his breast. When they returned to England. Not if, when.

But Jenny didn’t appear to register the import of what she’d said. She continued on as if she hadn’t just upended his world once more. “You’re right. I didn’t want you to come. I only ever envisioned this adventure as happening to me alone. It never occurred to me that I might have a companion. Someone to share it all with.”

“It wasn’t part of your dream.”

“No.”

“Which is why I find it so difficult…Knowing that we’re only here together because I drew a net around you and trapped you.” It was the very way she’d described his actions on the train to Marseilles. And she’d been right. It was exactly what he’d done to her. “How can you ever get past such a breach of trust?”

“Quite easily,” she said. “I can accept your apology. And I can forgive you.”

A spasm of emotion contracted his throat. “Jenny…”

“You see? It’s not difficult at all.”

Tom bowed his head, his forehead coming to rest lightly against hers. Her forgiveness was a gift he hadn’t expected—and probably didn’t deserve. He couldn’t understand how she gave it so freely. Life, as he knew it, was built on long-held grudges. The notion that the slate could ever be wiped clean was foreign to him.

He wanted to ask her how she could do it. How she could absolve him for ruining her plans. For forcing himself into her adventure.

But Jenny, being Jenny, anticipated that, too.

“It’s true,” she confessed, her voice sinking to a whisper. “In the beginning, you weren’t part of my dream. But now…” She touched his cheek. “I couldn’t imagine any of this without you.”

Alexandria, Egypt

March, 1860

Jenny stood on the deck of the Indus, watching the ancient city of Alexandria come into view. The weather had turned warmer. It was still nothing like the baking heat she imagined in India, but it was warm enough that most of the other passengers had come up on deck to join her. Some were still bundled up against the cold. Others were already garbed in their muslins and linens.

As for herself, she’d dressed in her black caraco jacket and skirt, a wide-brimmed straw hat pinned to her rolled and plaited coiffure.

Tom emerged from the crowd across the deck. When he saw her, his mouth hitched into a lopsided smile.

She smiled back at him, a little foolishly, she feared. No doubt she looked like a love-smitten schoolgirl. It was impossible not to after the kiss they’d shared. She watched as he made his way toward her. He’d gone no more than a few steps when Lydia Plank caught at his arm.

Tom looked down at Miss Plank. His face was solemn, his attention fixed on whatever she was telling him. And then, much to Jenny’s chagrin, he turned and walked off with the girl.

Jenny stared after them, chewing at her lip. It was stupid to be jealous. The Plank daughters were young and pretty, it was true, but Tom had shown no particular fondness for them. And even if he had, what of it? Who was Jenny to get in the way of a shipboard flirtation? Or any flirtation, for that matter. She and Tom had no formal understanding. Rather the opposite. She’d made it plain to him that she didn’t wish to marry. That she had no desire to become entangled with a man.

Having firmly established her independence, was she now going to play the part of dog in the manger every time Tom looked at a young lady?

And Miss Plank was young. No more than nineteen, at Jenny’s guess. She tried to recall what she’d been doing at a similar age. Still living at the vicarage in Chipping St. Mary, cooking and cleaning for her father and brothers and trying to scrape up enough money to pay the tradesman’s bills. She hadn’t had the time for flirtations. Her entire focus had been on finding a way to get out. To get free.

Her hand moved reflexively to the gold chain at her neck. It was half-hidden by the collar of her jacket, the bottom looping down to rest at the top of her corset busk. No one could see it, not when she was in ordinary day dress. But it wasn’t meant to be seen. It was enough that she knew it was there. An ever-present reminder of why she must guard her independence.

As if she needed reminding.

She folded her arms at her waist, focusing her gaze on the view of the bustling city. Whatever happened with Tom, she was free now. Freer than most spinsters of modest fortunes could ever dream of being. Heaven’s sake, she was in Egypt! She, Jenny Holloway, former lady’s companion, was on the greatest adventure of her life. No man could spoil it, and no woman, either. Certainly not one of the feather-headed Planks.

The Indus docked not far from a multitude of other ships, all of them busy with activity. Bradshaw’s described the Port of Alexandria as being the foremost port in Egypt, a fact to which the crowded harbor appeared to attest. Situated at the meeting of the Nile River and the Mediterranean Sea, it was fringed in a reef of rocks and smelled—in its way—no more pleasant than had the harbor at Marseilles.

Ahmad and Mira appeared at Jenny’s side, both of them clutching carpetbags. The luggage was going ahead to the steamer at Port Suez. The contents of the carpetbags were the only articles they would be carrying with them on the rail journey through Egypt.