Page 117 of A Modest Independence

“Let’s return to the guest house,” Tom said as they left the hospital.

Jenny stopped to open her parasol. “What about the church?”

“We can visit closer to sunset. It’s too hot to be traipsing all about the town at midday.”

She couldn’t disagree. Even the gharry they hired to take them back was flagging. The poor horse looked as if he were about to expire. When the gharry-wallah began to use his whip as encouragement, Jenny touched Tom’s arm. “We’re close enough to walk, aren’t we?”

Tom called for the gharry-wallah to stop. After he helped Jenny out, he went back and spoke to the man.

“What did you say?” Jenny asked as the gharry rolled away. The gharry-wallah was no longer plying his whip.

“Very little. My Hindustani is execrable.” Tom paused before adding, “I gave him a ridiculously large tip in addition to his fare. One hopes he’ll have the good sense to take his horse back to the stable and call it a day.”

Her mouth curved in a sudden smile. One of her love-smitten smiles, no doubt. But, at the moment, she didn’t care one jot. “Do you always do the right thing?”

Tom gazed down at her. For an instant, she might have believed him as smitten as herself. “Hardly ever.”

“Liar.”

“Not at all. I told you I was selfish. It upset you for him to strike the horse, so I made him stop.”

“How is that selfish?”

“Because it pleases me to make you happy.”

His words brought a flush of warmth to Jenny’s cheeks. She bent her head as she proceeded down the street, hoping her parasol shielded her blushes from view. Heaven’s sake, she was an aged spinster, not a green girl.

Tom walked along at her side. “I wish I could solve all the rest of this with as much ease.”

“Perhaps it’s already solved. That may well be our problem. We’re asking questions about something to which we already have the answer.”

“Anstruther’s account.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but thus far he appears to know more about what happened the night Giles died than anyone here.”

“We haven’t spoken to everyone yet.”

“No. There’s still the chaplain and whoever might have been involved in assisting with burying the dead. As for the villagers, I don’t hold out much hope. Giles only arrived with his regiment during the battle. It isn’t as if he was stationed in Jhansi before the uprising.”

Tom was silent for a long moment. “Perhaps I was too hasty in urging you to come here.”

“Nonsense. Though I think you suspected as well as I that it might come to nothing.” She glanced at him. “I’m not a fool, Tom. I could tell you were merely placating me. After how I behaved that morning at the Westbrook—”

“I don’t make it a habit of placating people, Jenny.”

“Not even ladies who cry themselves to sleep on your shoulder?”

“Ah. As to that…” A glint of humor flickered in his eyes. “It hasn’t happened often enough for me to make a formal study.”

“I trust not. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if it had. You have a very supportive shoulder.”

“It’s yours whenever you need it.”

She took his arm. “I’m obliged to you, but with any luck I won’t be needing it anytime soon. I’ve wept enough for this journey.”

The guest house loomed ahead, the chipped brick exterior with its shabby awning beckoning to them in the dry heat. It wasn’t going to be much cooler inside, but it was better than nothing.

She sighed heavily. “What an absolutely awful way to end our adventures. Stranded in all this dust and heat, at a disreputable little guest house in the middle of nowhere.”