“And you’re going to see your father again soon and present him with his new grandchild.”
“Yes,” she said. “I just have to get to Barkerville. That’s a town in the goldfields where my father is. He owns a restaurant there. He says there’s lots of ways to make money. I’m not sure yet what I will do, but I know he’ll take care of me and little Jacob.”
How lovely, I thought, to have a father waiting for you in the New World, someone to help guide you and provide loving support. Perhaps my own father would have done that for me had he lived. Since Harriet had told me the truth, I found myself thinking of him differently now.
I stayed with Sarah until her cabinmates returned, then I gave the sleeping Jacob a little kiss on the forehead and said my goodbyes. As I turned to go, I almost walked right into John Crossman, who was in the process of knocking on the door.
“Sorry,” we both said in unison. I tried to step past him, but he turned as well. “How are Sarah and her baby doing?”
“They’re both doing very well,” I said curtly. “Thank you for your interest. She needs her rest, best not to disturb her.” I started down the hallway.
He gently touched my arm to stop me. “Have I done something to offend you, Miss Harding? I haven’t seen you since dinner the other night. I confess, I had been hoping to spend some time getting to know you while we are on this journey together.”
I found the directness of his speech strangely compelling. “It’s not you, Reverend Crossman,” I said, meeting his eye. “It’s the company you keep, or should I say, your choice of friends.”
“Choice of friends? The only friend I’ve spoken of is George Chalmers. Georgie Porgie, we used to call him. He was a mean little boy.” He studied my face. “I suspect he’s a mean adult, despite what Lady Persephone says. He just hides it better. How did he offend you?”
“You’ve not heard gossip about my entanglement with him?”
“I haven’t heard any gossip, and if I had, I’d have ignored it. If George caused you pain or trouble in any way, then he’s no friend of mine.” His warm breath felt like the gentle brush of a feather on my neck. “I like you, Miss Harding. I want to get to know you a little better. Will you let me? Perhaps we could have tea tomorrow. At four o’clock?”
I knew Hari would never approve. Reverend Crossman had not been formally vetted and was not officially courting me. I knew I should not waste my time in a liaison that had no future, but I was drawn to him. It seemed we saw life through a similar lens. I should have demurred—offered a polite but firm refusal. I knew very well not to say yes, but I found myself nodding hesitantly.
Chapter Twenty-one
The tearoom was crowded, but we found a lovely table for two by the front window where we welcomed the cooling breeze. We were now sailing off the southern coast of North Carolina and the day was sunny and hot. I had dug deep into my trunk for a summer dress and had had to air it out. It was one of my favourites, a full-skirted cotton in yellow-and-white gingham with white lace around the neck and three-quarter sleeves. I had completed what I thought was a rather jaunty look with white lace gloves and a straw hat with matching ribbon.
I had debated whether or not to tell Hari I was having tea with Reverend Crossman but decided against it. What was there to discuss, really? We had simply agreed to get to know each other a little better, nothing more. Perhaps I was taking the easy way out. Hari might have angrily objected, but since I left her wrapped in a blanket, snoozing on a deck chair, I doubted she would ever know and there would be no harm done. So why was I thrilled at the closeness of him next to me now?
“Shall I pour, Reverend Crossman?” I asked when tea and a plate of cakes arrived.
“Yes, thank you, and call me John, please. May I call you Charlotte?”
“By all means.” I managed to pour the tea without spilling a drop. “Cream and sugar, John?”
His mouth twitched up into a smile at the sound of his first name, and I had to admit that it was surprisingly comfortable to address him so informally.
“Yes, please,” he answered, then held out the plate of cakes. Never one to turn down an offering of sweets, I chose a lovely ginger cake and took a bite.
“From what little I know of you, it’s my guess that you ran a bit wild on your farm as a little girl. Am I right?” he said, struggling to grip the dainty handle of the teacup in his large hand.
I nodded. “Everyone called me a tomboy. Riding ponies, playing with the farm animals, that was my sort of pastime. My poor mother despaired, rather like your mother did, I gather. Hari was really my only playmate. We had a grand time inventing games and playing practical jokes on our parents and Wiggles, our governess.”
“You had a governess named Wiggles? How very lucky for you.”
I told John how I came to christen Miss Wiggins as Wiggles and he let out a booming laugh that I was starting to associate with him. I’d never been good at making ready small talk, but I found it easy to talk to John. He was a good listener, which encouraged me to open up about my life.
“Wiggles actually advised me to come on this journey,” I said, and explained about the necklace. “I wasn’t seriously considering coming, but of course, other events transpired…” I stopped, realizing what I was saying. Despite John’s
