Page 28 of A Modest Independence

“No. I left with her blessing. She even settled a sum of money on me. It’s how I’m able to afford this trip.” Jenny draped her wet things on a wooden chair near the fireplace. “I hadn’t planned on hiring any servants until I arrived in India.”

Mira made no reply as she finished undressing. She was an uncommonly reserved girl. Indeed, she’d scarcely said a word since their introduction on the pier. Whenever she did speak, it was quiet and respectful, her voice lilting ever so lightly.

“How long have you lived in England?” Jenny asked. “You’ve scarcely any accent.”

“I came to London when I was a girl,” Mira said. “With my cousin, Ahmad.”

Jenny removed her corset hook by hook, her lungs expanding fully for the first time in hours. Clad only in her chemise and drawers, she sat down on the edge of the bed to remove her stockings. “Is he your only family?”

“Yes, madam.”

Jenny didn’t bother correcting her this time. It was difficult enough extracting information from the girl. It wasn’t going to help to pepper her with reprimands.

She heaved a sigh. “I know I said I didn’t want any servants, but now you’re here, I don’t wish you to be frightened of me or to feel unwelcome. I’m not an unreasonable person, truly. You’ll learn that soon enough. In the meanwhile, you’re not to make yourself uncomfortable on my account. And if there’s anything you require, anything at all, you must speak out directly. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, tell me, have you ever worked as a lady’s maid before?”

Mira’s hands froze on the tapes of her petticoats.

“It’s all right if you haven’t,” Jenny added hastily. “In truth, I don’t really need a lady’s maid. I can dress and undress myself perfectly well and I’m capable enough at arranging my own hair.”

Not that anyone would know it from the current state of her coiffure. The voyage across the Channel had left her tresses in disarray. She plucked out the remaining hairpins, letting the plaited coils unravel to fall halfway down her back.

“You don’t require me to act as your lady’s maid?” Mira sounded confused. “What is it you wish me to do?”

“Nothing at the moment.”

“But what about my duties?”

“What were your duties at Mrs. Pritchard’s?”

Mira’s face tensed.

“It was a lodging house, wasn’t it? Somewhere in the East End, Mr. Finchley said.”

“Off of the High Street, yes, madam. I laundered the linens and the women’s underthings.”

“Hmm.” Jenny considered. “You can launder our things, I suppose. And if you’ll occasionally assist with sponging and pressing my gowns, that would be tremendously helpful. I only brought the four of them. Bradshaw’s advised packing light.”

“Bradshaw?”

“The overland travel guide to India and Egypt. I’ve a copy in my reticule if you’d like to read it.” Jenny rose to drape her stockings over the back of the chair along with the rest of her things before returning to the bed and drawing back the thin woolen blanket.

“Are you retiring, madam?”

“Just a short lie-down before dinner.” Jenny slipped under the coarse sheets.

As much as one romanticized travel, the realities of the business were exhausting. How many miles had she traveled in the past two days? First from Devon to London and then from London to Dover and on to Calais. And now here she was, out of England at last, and all she wanted was to curl up in a warm bed and sleep.

“I’m so dreadfully tired,” she said. “It was the Channel crossing, I expect. It wasn’t very long, but it seems to have taken it out of me. Something about the sea, don’t you think?”

Whether Mira answered or not, Jenny never knew. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

A long time later, she was awakened by the chime of church bells in the marketplace. Sunlight filtered in through the half-raised window shade.

Her stomach grumbled.