“Thank you, for your compliment,” she began, but immediately regretted the formality. She bit her lip and continued, “I am gratified to hear it, because I have given the matter some thought. The Belgravia townhome has been a godsend, truly, and I will be forever grateful to Willow’s aunt and uncle. But as you noticed, a mother and child... and a maid and our, er, goat... cannot impose on the Boyds’ generosity indefinitely. Without being certain ofyourplans, I have taken it upon myself to conceive of some, er, solution. If you are amenable. Just to consider.”
“Tessa,” he sighed, “I am shocked that you have not fled the Boyds’ cellar as fast as Christian’s pram could carry him.”
Before she could stop herself, she laughed. It was a sharp laugh, edged in bitterness. She slid her hand from beneath his.
“Yes,” she said, “this would assume we had somewhere else to go, wouldn’t it? I can hardly indulge in flight if I must provide for my infant first. And his maid and his goat.”
“Of course,” Joseph said. He sounded chastened, and Tessa swore in her head. The very last sentiment she wished to evoke was resentment. Or desperation. She wasn’t resentful, and she wasn’t desperate, not really. Not the way many lone mothers were desperate, not the way she would have been if Joseph had divorced her after her confession.
Still, the little jab was out before she could stop it, evidence of the occasional white-knuckled fear that seized her in the middle of the night. It was so very stressful, existing on the balance of his absent good graces and the kindness of Mary and Arthur Boyd. Daylight had a way of easing the anxiety, but managing a baby alone had left her with a truncated view of life. There was little room for fancifulness or hyperbole or the satisfying drama of stuffing Christian’s pram with their possessions and fleeing the Boyds’ cellar simply because it was small and windowless and had been originally designed for two servants.
She cleared her throat. “That is, the reality of our circumstances has forced me to be more pragmatic. And what I was trying to say is...”
They’d been idling at a slow amble, trapped behind a swaying coach overloaded with trunks. Joseph, impatient for progress, steered into the path of oncoming carriages to swerve around.
Tessa held on, refusing to allow the rough ride to silence her. “What I meant to say is, I feel the arrangements I made in the dockyard, however isolated, have given me some insight into a future sort of... occupation for myself, if you will. That is, a way to provide some small living for myself and Christian.”
A cart swerved from their path and the horses surged again. Tessa spoke more loudly. “Obviously there is no real place for a woman working on the docks in London. The managers at St. Katharine have been very generous, especially because I made it very clear I came on behalf of my husband’s business. But once the novelty has worn of, and if I were to do this kind of work on behalf of shippers who were not you, I’m doubtful they would be as welcoming. I’m doubtful that they would allow my presence at all.
“That said, I had the idea—and please understand, it is merely a thought—to seek out some other port, elsewhere in England... some smaller, less trafficked dockyard that receives fewer ships... that might be willing to employee me in some capacity—”
Joseph reined in the carriage so abruptly and steered from the road so sharply, she pitched forward. His arm shot out and caught her around the waist. Inertia slammed them back into the seat. Tessa let out a little yelp.
“Are you saying,” Joseph began, “that you wish to join the staff in some port as a worker on the docks, Tessa?”
She smiled patiently, accommodatingly, the smile she gave Perry when she styled Sabine’s hair. “No, actually. Although I can see how this could be misconstrued. I’m telling you that I wish to have somerolein a dockyard. Not as a laborer, obviously, but possibly in the dock master’s office, doing much the same work that I did for you at the St. Katharine Docks, merely in the capacity of clerk or other staff? Eventually possibly as manager or... something?”
Joseph opened his mouth to speak, but Tessa held up her hand. “Please, Joseph, allow me to finish.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. This had spilled out all wrong. Her tone was meant to be thoughtful and aspirational, not frantic and naive. And she had not rehearsed how she might insert some possibility that he might wish to join them... to be a part of their lives when he was in the country... but she wanted very much to include it.
She licked her lips and looked around. They were parked on Bridge Road, not far from Westminster Bridge. Workers hammered scaffolding to railing. A farmer herded five plodding cows onto the ramp. To his credit, Joseph remained silent. He waited.
Tessa took a deep breath. “I’ve conducted some research around the notion of a small, local dockyard and discovered a village in the north of England that just might work. It’s called Hartlepool. In County Durham.”
There. She’d said it. She waited. Joseph blinked at her.
She added, “Do you know it?”
“No,” he said. He had the voice of a man waiting for the doctor to read a terrible prognosis.
“Well, it’s small—a village, as I’ve said. Very small compared to London. Only three hundred townspeople. However, the citizens of the town voted some years ago to create a working dock and a rail line that would connect the coal mines in Yorkshire to their small but workable stretch of North Sea coast. They’ve apparently worked very hard toward this goal, and their little dock opened this summer, just in July, and... and now they are making a go of exporting coal. Coal is quite different from importing or exporting goods, I am aware, but who knows what else they might eventually bring in? Even if it is only coal, they will require a staff to manage traffic to the docks.
“And I merely thought... I thought... perhaps if Christian and I were to relocate there, I could discover some way to earn a small living, as I’ve said, and we would be less of a burden to you. Unless of course you wished to... that is...”
She studied his face and lost heart. He looked confused and unnerved. He looked like a man who opened his front door to a raging storm.
Tessa abandoned any mention of his involvement and rushed to finish. “I haven’t the money to purchase a house, of course.” Now she looked away. The hardest bit was to baldly ask him to buy her a piece of property. And to ask it with no ploys or flirtations, as the Old Tessa might have done. She must simply state what she wished and ask him.
“For this,” she continued, staring out at the bridge, “I am forced to rely on your generosity. We would not require much—just a small cottage. No more than two rooms. Eventually, Perry will want to return to Willow’s service. Willow is a countess now and lives in a castle, as you know. Perry loves the baby, but I don’t believe it was ever her goal to be a nursemaid. Her passions lie more to fashion, and she’s quite talented.” She shook her head. She was rambling.
“I know it is a very ambitious plan, not to mention wildly unorthodox. But I conceived it with no idea of what you intended for us. That is, after the guano, you’ve not said if you intend to settle in London or even in England. I was forced to think of some plan that would allow me to build on my new success at the dockyard, provide for the baby, and live a life that would give you freedom to... to do as you wished. To not worry with us. I had even thought, if you are willing to purchase some small cottage for me, eventually I might earn enough money in the dockyard to repay—”
“Stop,”said Joseph. He held a hand like a conductor.
Tessa closed her mouth. Her stomach unspooled like the chain of an anchor as it plunged into the sea.
He said, “Forgive me. You have given me quite a—that is, I could not expect this. But that is the one constant with you, to be caught off guard.” He glanced at her and then back at the horses. “That said, I can address the very last bit immediately. You will never, not ever, owe money to me, Tessa. You have already given me £15,000 in dowry. My partners and I have parlayed the dowries of the three brides into a windfall of nearly £1,000,000. And that is only with the first shipment. In fact, my bankers are preparing a withdrawal to return the dowry money into your safekeeping. Cassin and Stoker will do the same. We decided it was reasonable to view the dowries more like a loan than money we took outright. An investment, just like your original advertisement said.”
