“I disagree,” John said seriously. “It should be a decision left up to the individual, not the Church. Some of Victoria’s most distinguished couples have chosen not to be married in a Christian ceremony. They are the Hudson’s Bay fur traders and their Native wives, married ‘after the custom of the country,’ as they say, and are in long, loving relationships.” John looked pointedly at Mrs. Burk and continued. “Governor and Mrs. Douglas are prime examples. Amelia is the Métis daughter of an Irish trader and a Cree woman whose own father was a chief. James served as a clerk to Amelia’s father, who married them in a country ceremony. They chose to reaffirm their vows nine years later in a Christian service only because of public pressure.”
Mrs. Burk scoffed, but John’s argument intrigued me. I had never met anyone so open to new ways of seeing the world, but my hands grew clammy at the tension now building in the room. If my conversation with Dr. Carson had taught me anything, it was that many would see John’s views as blasphemous, even dangerous.
Lady Persephone coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. More than anything I guessed she was concerned with maintaining social decorum. Hari took her cue to move the discussion to a less controversial topic, the beautiful weather we were now enjoying, but Mrs. Burk was not one to back down.
“Tell me, Miss Harding, what is your opinion? You and Reverend Crossman both seem to have soft hearts. I see you working with Dr. Carson helping the sick crew, and I hear you assisted him with the birth. What do you think?” A slow smile spread across her face.
I felt the muscles in my chest tighten, and I glanced at John. I could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t said anything. Hari’s eyes were boring into my skull, but I couldn’t meet her gaze. I scanned the faces around the table. Dr. Carson was studying the bottom of his soup bowl and Lady Persephone had set down her cutlery, her attention focused on me expectantly.
“Administering to the crew?” Sir Richard said. “Helping with a birth? Dear heavens! Whatever made you want to do that?”
I searched my imagination for a plausible argument in my favour. “I’ve been so inspired by the work of the great Florence Nightingale, a—a beacon of hope for our poor soldiers and a woman above reproach, don’t you agree, Sir Richard?”
“I suppose so,” he replied, a bit subdued.
In the silence that followed, I snuck a peek at Hari’s face. Her expression had evolved from shock to anger, and I dreaded the end of dinner and the return to our cabin. I began to rub the emerald between my thumb and forefinger as if the simple touch could conjure comfort and affection from Wiggles.
Chapter Twenty-three
“What the devil has been going on?” Harriet cried. “You were working with Dr. Carson as a nurse? I thought we talked about that. You promised you would be on your very best behaviour.”
We had only just stepped back into our cabin after dinner, and she was demanding answers.
“I know, but he needed my help, and he didn’t want our money. You were so ill, and I had to find a way to get you the laudanum. No one knew what I was doing until Mrs. Burk started putting her nose into it. It was harmless.”
“Well, that’s all over with now. You need to tell Dr. Carson tomorrow. Promise me.”
“I promise. I will return the key to the surgery first thing and tell him I am quitting. I was going to anyway.” I sat on Hari’s bed and unlaced my dress shoes. They had been pinching my feet all evening. Hari went over to her small dressing table and began unpinning her hair.
“Fine, but what is going on between you and John Crossman? Don’t think I didn’t pick up on that.”
“Hari, we’ve only had one tea together. He’s not courting me. But if he were to declare his intensions,” I paused, mustering up the courage to be honest, “I would be interested. I find him quite charming. We have much in common.”
“We know nothing of his family, where they come from, and what sort of position they hold in society.”
“He told me he’s from Yorkshire. His father is a wealthy landowner, and he’s to inherit…” I trailed off. “Not that that’s what matters to me. He’s kind, and a free thinker who deeply cares about others.”
She came over to me. “But you have to admit, he’s an odd sort. Is he even a properly ordained minister? It could all be lies. In truth, he reminds me of our father, and look how well that turned out for Mama.” I could smell lavender and face powder as she leaned in. “Marriage is all women have. You know that full well, Charlotte. And to marry, you need to protect your virtue, not throw it away on some girlish romantic whim!”
“This is not a romantic whim! He’s the first man I’ve ever truly felt a connection with. It’s not just romance, there’s something deeper.”
“You haven’t learned anything, have you?” Harriet said, her voice bitter. “Women don’t get to choose their lives. We adapt our lives to the man we marry, the man who protects and supports us. The right sort of men.”
“Men like Charles and George, you mean?”
“No. Men like Cousin Edward, for example.”
“Edward? The man who cares more for his prize roses than his own children? Not to mention that he is our first cousin. How could he have possibly been right for me?”
“Marriage to first cousins happens in the aristocracy. We could have kept the estate if you married Edward. Mama told me it was a missed opportunity.”
I felt my face go hot at the thought of my near miss, and at the two of them plotting my future without any regard for my wishes. In all honesty, I
