C hina—the thought was ludicrous! And yet the woman in front of him, with a dangerous degree of stubbornness in her dark brown eyes, looked up at him as if he were the one being ridiculous.
What on earth would possess a young woman who was obviously of genteel birth to decide to travel without her family to China, of all places?
“Were you truly expecting to make such a journey on your own?”
A flicker of doubt passed over her delicate features, distracting Jacob more than he’d like to admit. “Why shouldn’t I? I’m sure others have done it before.”
“Do you know where in China you are headed?” He tried to recall what else he knew of the Orient other than its many varieties of tea.
“Canton,” she said confidently.
“And you are expected there?”
This time, the flicker of doubt was accompanied by what looked like unshed tears. Jacob felt his heart clench.
“Forgive me,” he said when she blinked and looked askance. “It is not my place to pry, of course, but a traveler with family expecting her is often treated by officers with greater care. The possibility of some sort of reckoning protects them.”
Instead of reacting to his attempt at comfort, the woman actually sniffed.
Jacob frowned. Who exactly was this exotic woman who’d seemed to appear from thin air?
“Are you from China?” he asked.
“One could say so.”
“I did not think that question had any possibility of variance in answer.”
“There are many possibilities and subtleties that most Englishmen might not consider, sir.” She looked back at him, her backbone returning despite the slightly dewy look that still persisted in her eyes. “You cannot possibly have the measure of me after one single conversation.”
Her pluck surprised and impressed him. And when Jacob crossed his arms once more, the action felt more like a hedge to protect his own growing curiosity than a display of any kind of strength.
“In case I haven’t made it clear, miss, I wish to help you—and if I inadvertently judge you unfairly in the process, I can only apologize for my own ignorance and reiterate my selfless motives. ”
“Why would you help me?”
Her question caught him off-guard. Why indeed would he? Jacob liked to think himself more humane and benevolent than his avaricious father, but even he had never been the sort to take up the causes of strangers.
The fact that he found the woman enchantingly pretty might have a tiny bit to do with his unlikely heroism, but he felt something more stirring underneath.
Jacob sighed. “Perhaps I wish to do something meaningful.”
“Helping me is meaningful?”
“Helping anyone is—isn’t it?” It was his turn to shrug a shoulder.
“My fath—my family—we rarely have occasion to help other people, given the taxing nature of our usual responsibilities. And I have recently become informed of certain upcoming events that would make it even more difficult for me to extend charity to others in the near future. Consider it my way of carving out purpose in an otherwise purposeless existence.”
It was not entirely fair to think this way, given that Father clearly had a purpose for Jacob’s life. It just wasn’t a purpose that Jacob could wholly embrace.
He met the mysterious woman’s eyes, surprised to find compassion rather than suspicion this time around.
“Life can be frightfully unfair at times,” she said, her voice gentler than it had been all morning. “And people who might appear to have a privileged life may not always have any actual control over the very life they lead.”
Her words struck so close to his actual predicament that Jacob felt an overwhelming sense of kinship with her, even if he knew not a single thing about her other than her ludicrous plan to sail to China .
“Is that why you are running away from home?” he found himself saying.
She resisted for only the briefest of moments before relenting. “Perhaps.”
Jacob nodded, suddenly understanding her a little better. “And I suppose suggesting that we return you to the safety of your family is hardly a helpful suggestion by the way of things?”
He rather thought her eyes glistened with gratitude. “Hardly.”
“Very well.” He huffed. His mind catalogued the plausible paths for the young lady in her particular situation.
He had enough genteel connections to provide her shelter and a modicum of protection, but he wasn’t exactly equipped to deal with runaway daughters on a regular basis.
“While I may be familiar with some people who trade in your desired route often, none of them are people I would like to entrust the reputation of a young woman to. So if you have no objections, I would rather introduce you to someone trustworthy who would know a thing or two about helping young ladies in need of assistance—and perhaps she could advise us about your best way forward. Would that be acceptable?”
The pretty stranger looked ready to object before her shoulders softened. “She will not gossip?”
“No.”
“Or spread rumors.”
“That would hardly be my definition of ‘trustworthy.’”
She seemed to weigh his recommendation before nodding eventually. “Very well.”
“Good.” He tried to hide his sigh of relief. “And seeing that I shall shortly be introducing you to one of my friends, may I have the honor of knowing your name?”
“Amelia F—” She paused, as if it only dawned upon her then that she was about to give her name to a stranger. Jacob liked to think that she trusted him, but he also felt a slight measure of relief if the girl showed some common sense, given their inauspicious first encounter.
“Miss Amelia then?” He offered.
She huffed. “Water. Miss Water.”
“Miss Water?” He ought not to sound so incredulous. It was hardly kind. But it really was rather ridiculous as aliases went.
“Yes, Waters.”
“Alright. Waters.” Jacob tried to nod himself into accepting the name. Then he gestured towards the door. “Shall we go, Miss Waters?”
She huffed and walked out with such an air of superiority that Jacob wouldn’t have wondered if the woman was descended from a queen.
Any expectations Amelia might have had about being able to demand her way into a proper journey to China were being shattered rather quickly under Mr. Hawthorne’s discerning eye.
She appreciated the man’s help. Who knew, after all, if there were any more Mr. Drivers about, lurking around for opportunities to take advantage of unaccompanied young women?
But it was also rather humiliating to be failing so soon into her adventure, and Amelia allowed herself some brooding, even if it made her a rather lackluster companion for her unlikely savior.
So preoccupied was she the whole time Mr. Hawthorne was walking her through the maze of the London docks and into a slightly more orderly neighborhood that she was rather surprised to find herself being ushered into a modest, tidy apartment a good half-hour later.
“Come in, Jacob. And what’s this? A lady friend?
” A middle-aged woman, plump and good-natured, smiled at them.
She was attired rather similarly to the place she occupied—modest, clean, and humble.
This might not qualify as an upper-class home, but it was certainly a tidy one. “Do come in, my dear, I shan’t bite.”
Amelia stepped in gingerly behind Mr. Hawthorne.
“Mrs. Wilmark, I’m sorry for not having sent word,” Mr. Hawthorne said with a gallant bow. Once more, the crispness of his accent hinted at a gentlemanly education, even if his association with people as humble as Mrs. Wilmark and his familiarity with the London docks seemed to indicate otherwise.
“Nonsense. You are always welcome. And it has been a good two months since we’ve seen you last.” Mrs. Wilmark smiled at both of them, her manners making Amelia feel instantly at ease.
It was almost funny how she felt more at ease in this unknown woman’s house in an unknown part of London, after an entire minute of having met her, than she did with her own stepmother in Upper Wimpole Street.
“I see you’ve brought a friend today,” Mrs. Wilmark said with a gentle smile .
“Ah, yes.” Mr. Hawthorne bowed his head again before turning. “Miss Waters, Mrs. Wilmark.”
The women greeted each other, and Mrs. Wilmark wasted no time in ensconcing the three of them in her cozy little receiving space, within view of a dining table.
The frugality of the place was rather staggering in comparison to her usual haunts, although Amelia felt surprisingly unthreatened by the simplicity around her.
“And how can we help you, Miss Waters?” Mrs. Wilmark asked cordially once they had all been served some lukewarm, bland, yet kindly-proffered tea by a female servant who blushed with every glance at Mr. Hawthorne.
“I am—” Amelia sent Mr. Hawthorne a questioning look. He smiled at her encouragingly, the way his features softened almost distracting her entirely. She shook herself internally and cleared her throat. Surely, she was better than the blushing maid. “I was hoping to find passage—to China.”
“China!” It was not at all encouraging, or promising, if everyone responded to her plan that way. At least Mrs. Wilmark softened faster than her friend did. “But why ever so, my dear?”
Amelia bit her lip. Her eyes darted between the two people before her. They made her feel safe, like Mother never did. But how much could she truly trust two strangers?
Then again, how much of a choice did she have otherwise? She was already in Mrs. Wilmark’s house.
“Mrs. Wilmark is my tutor’s sister, a clergyman’s daughter herself,” Mr. Hawthorne said in an assuring manner. “You can trust her discretion, as you can mine.”
Amelia let herself study him a moment more before nodding. She chose her words more carefully than she usually did. “There have been—certain events at home recently—that require me to find safe haven elsewhere.”