“Sorry, Mama.”
“Never. I think it makes everything perfect.” Jemina hugged her again.
Daniel reached for Hope’s paint-stained fingers and traced a pink smile to his lips. “Seems you ladies have all in hand.”
“Pa-Papa funny.”
“At week’s end, I’d like to take you both to Portsmouth. The lignum vitae are blooming. Let’s take some to the sea.”
“No sea, Pa-Papa. None.”
“Hope, we will all be safe going and coming. I think we need to go together, and then we’ll all return to Finchely.”
Jemina nodded. “Yes. I want to go with you, Daniel, as afamily.”
His cautious heart raced at her use of the word that was supposed to solve all ills. He didn’t react to it, didn’t show the naked need that bubbled under his skin. Daniel hadn’t proved to his wife that he trusted her mind as much as her heart. “Very good.”
“I’ll pack you all a picnic basket,” Mrs. Gallick said, “with plenty of your shortbread, sir.”
Mmmmm. Currant and carraway shortbread. His favorite thing. Readying to dip his hand in the basket, he stopped and glanced at Jemina, loving the joy in her face.
Then his appetite waned.
The trip would be terrible. Her smile wouldn’t last. It was set to disappear once he took her back to the beginning. Yet, there was no other way for them to start over.
“Ladies, I’ll let you get to things, then dinner in the proper room.”
“Daniel, you didn’t have to make changes at Finchely for me. Your gentlemen friends looked very crowded in your study.”
With a smile, he nodded and wiped off the paint in his beard. “Dinner in a few.”
“Yes,” she said, and turned to the housekeeper. “Let’s get clean, Hope.”
They squealed and started splashing water in the basin Mrs. Gallick brought.
Daniel left. He had a great deal of work to do accessing his resources to craft a mission of his own. He needed to discover the missing pieces of Jemina’s journey from Jamaica. When the HMSBelviderapulled into port, how had she ended up hours away in Bedlam?
Helping Jemina regain a piece of her truth had to be enough for them to start again.
It had to be.
CHAPTER 52
JEMINA—THEFAMILYTRIP
Leaving Finchely filled me with nervous energy. We hadn’t been in a carriage all together since my burglary at the Lincoln’s Inn. “Mrs. Gallick packed a big basket brimming with bread and cheese, roasted goose, a jam or two, and shortbreads.”
“She always makes a good luncheon.” Daniel smiled a little, then took papers from his leather case. The stationery looked like correspondence. The urge to look over his folded hands, past his bluish-black tailcoat and shiny buttons, to peek at his letters pressed.
The carriage rolled on. Hope bounced on the seat with Mrs. Feebs naming things that she saw in the window.
Our handsome chaperone remained quiet and contemplative.
I thought when he suggested Portsmouth that we’d clear the air and maybe I could ask his opinion on normal things like dinner menus. He loved supping with us at Finchely. I missed him and hated those awkward pauses when we both wanted to spend time with Hope. He loved her so.
This journey was for Hope. She knew he wasn’t happy. The pleasantries, his holding the basket, helping me onto my seat were to show our daughter the family was well and getting along.
Her nightmares had diminished. She slept through the night more and more, especially after we started joining Daniel for dinner.
