I turned to the last letter. Probably from Charles gloating over the money, I thought, not recognizing the writing. But when I tore the seal and scanned the bottom for the sender’s name, I was surprised to see that it was from John.
October 27, 1862
Dear Charlotte,
Words cannot express how sorry I am for the way we parted last. I’ve just arrived in England, and I haven’t thought of anything else the entire trip back. I see now how foolish I was to think you could rush into a marriage. I regret that I didn’t listen to you. I was afraid to lose you, and I did anyway.
I trust that Dr. Carson gave you the vaccination tools. Since I had no use for them, I wanted to leave them in good hands. Your compassion for others and your medical skills impressed me, and I hoped you might find a way to put them to good use in the colony.
I hope our goodbye was not our last. And that we might remain friends.
Deepest affection,
John
I traced over his salutation with my fingertips, remembering the happier moments we shared, our dance, our kiss. I folded the letter. It seemed like another life in another world. I was happy to hear from him and would write back to assure him that we were still friends and that I would find a way to use the vaccination equipment, but I knew I would never see him again. His life was in England and mine was here. Beyond that, other circumstances and obligation separated us. I had to pick up the pieces of my life and move on.
Chapter Thirty-five
“You won’t believe what I have just found out, you just won’t believe it!” Sarah gasped as she burst in the barracks in a whirlwind of snow.
“You’ve found work?” I asked hopefully. Christmas had come and gone and we were now the only women left in the barracks. We had twice asked the welcoming committee for a little more time to find other lodgings but we knew we had to make other arrangements soon.
“Better than that.” She put little Jacob down in his bed and took my hands in hers and squeezed.
“Ouch,” I said, “this news better be worth a couple of broken fingers.”
She let go, then twirled around the room.
“All right, then. I’m all ears. What’s your news?”
“It’s your great news as well.” With a flurry, she opened her satchel and took out some papers with official seals. They were the stock certificates she had shown me on the boat the day of Jacob’s birth.
“My father sent me a letter telling me to sell the shares, so I went to the assay office and asked about them. They’ve gone up in value and are worth much more than the pennies my father paid for them.” She giggled. “We can sell ’em tomorrow for five pounds each! I have nine shares and don’t forget you have one.”
I stared at her, disbelieving for a minute. “Five pounds?” I echoed. That was almost three months’ salary at the tea shop. With it I could rent a decent place to live, maybe even a house.
We both danced about this time, silently mouthing shouts of joy and waving our hands in the air, so not to awaken Jacob.
Sarah grew serious and once again took my hands in her own cold ones. “Come with me.”
“Come with you where?”
“To Barkerville. There are far more opportunities there than here, and five pounds is more than enough for the stagecoach. My father said he’ll help us get on. I told him all about you, and he said he has a job for you, if you want it.”
“Yes,” I said, without a second thought. Sarah was my best friend, and the thought of her leaving had been gnawing at me the past months. I had nothing holding me here, and according to the audacious De Cosmos of the Colonist, Barkerville was a place where “opportunity waited around every corner, where gold nuggets lay scattered in riverbeds, free for the taking.” Perhaps there I would be able to truly make a fresh start.
Sarah and I began counting down the days until the stagecoach line opened again in the spring and we were determined to be first in line to purchase our tickets. Sarah fretted about her previous experience and was nervous we’d get turned away again.
“Why don’t we ask some of our friends, Florence, Emma, and Alice, to come with us?” I suggested. “We’ll tell them about how you were treated last time. There’s strength in numbers.”
When the ticket office did reopen, Sarah and I arrived two hours before and were surprised to see our friends and twelve other emigrant women already waiting. There were so many of us that when the doors opened, we trooped inside and filled the entire small space. Not a single man made it in off the street. The bald-headed clerk at the counter looked up at us with narrow eyes.
“Two tickets on the first Barkerville stage, please,” I said, placing the funds on the counter.
He didn’t move a muscle. “It’s gentlemen first, then ladies. Them’s the rules.”
“Whose rules?”
“My rules.”
“I don’t see any gentlemen in this room, do you? And I believe the usual procedure is first come, first served.”
The clerk flushed. “What game are you ladies playing at? The tickets are reserved for men with serious business in Barkerville, not ladies out sightseeing. Now you girls clear out of here and stop wasting my time.”
Alice pushed in next to me and leaned across the counter. She grabbed the clerk’s shirt collar in her fist. “Listen
