A Modest Independence

by Mimi Matthews

  He was gone all the rest of the day and even through dinner, leaving the seat reserved for him at their table in Shepheard’s dining room conspicuously empty. As night fell, stark reality began to sink in.

  Tom wasn’t going to say goodbye to her.

  “Can’t say as I blame him,” Giles remarked. “I never did care for them myself. Those protracted farewells with women weeping and waving handkerchiefs at the docks.”

  Jenny swallowed the last bite of her curry. She might as well have been eating sawdust. “He knows I wouldn’t have done that.”

  Or so she hoped.

  Then again, she’d made enough of a spectacle of herself in Delhi to frighten off even the bravest man. The way she’d wept at the thought of him leaving her. She was mortified to think of it now.

  Had Tom feared she’d make a similar scene?

  If so, she supposed she couldn’t blame him for avoiding her.

  “Men like Finchley aren’t much for gallantry,” Giles said. “But he’s efficient enough in other respects to compensate. He’s seen you have access to your funds? And that all your papers are in order?”

  “Yes. Everything is as it should be.”

  “Excellent. When I come back this way, I’ll look in on you, shall I? Helena will want to be satisfied that you’re all right.”

  “By all means. I’m sure in a few months’ time I’ll welcome the sight of a familiar face.”

  “A few months.” Giles swallowed the remainder of his wine. “I pray my obligations in town will keep me no longer.”

  Jenny gave him a look of commiseration. The journey had been hard on Giles. He’d tolerated the society only because he must, not because he enjoyed it. Indeed, on the steamship, she’d often seen him looking haggard and gray—as if he couldn’t bear another moment of all the noise and incessant company. “You’ll be back in Darjeeling before you know it.”

  “What about you? Do you think to see England again? Or India?”

  “I have no set plans.”

  Giles didn’t interrogate her. He’d done enough of that on the ship. “Well, if any woman can make a go of it out here, I daresay it would be you. Just see you don’t befriend any more morally suspect solicitors or other unsavory types. Next time it might not turn out so well for you.”

  “You presume it turned out well this time.”

  He fixed her with a coolly appraising stare. “You’re all in one piece, aren’t you?”

  Jenny didn’t feel as though she was in one piece after her adventure with Tom. Rather the opposite. Her heart had been breaking by degrees ever since they left Darjeeling.

  After bidding goodnight to Giles and wishing him safe journey for his morning departure, she retired to her room. Mira wasn’t there. She’d gone out with Ahmad to visit the bazaar and then to dinner. The hotel room was shadowed and empty, the heart of it dimly lit by a set of oil lamps with black-and-gold-striped shades.

  For the first time in weeks, Jenny felt entirely alone.

  Until now, she’d been able to keep reality at bay through constant activity. There’d been no opportunity to dwell on her imminent parting from Tom. She’d thought—or rather, hoped—that they would have time enough yet to say goodbye. That there would be an opportunity to explain how she felt about him—and to articulate more fully why it was she wished to stay.

  Tom had plainly had other ideas.

  Perhaps he’d thought it would be easier to avoid her? To forego a painful farewell in lieu of a gradual fading away?

  Jenny tried to remember the last personal thing he’d said to her, but she couldn’t recall it. They hadn’t shared a private moment since leaving Darjeeling. How could they have when they were under such constant scrutiny?

  She spent the next hour readying herself for bed, unpinning and brushing her hair and changing out of her dinner dress and into her nightgown and wrapper.

  Her stomach was in knots, her muscles taut with tension. It wasn’t in her nature to sit back and let things happen to her. She wasn’t that sort of woman. Would never be that sort of woman. Tom must know that by now.

  And if he did, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if she visited him in his room.

  It was a scandalous thought, the likes of which turned the knots in her stomach to rampaging butterflies. Indeed, as she crossed the sitting room to her door, she felt more than a little ill. But there was nothing for it. It was either this or let Tom depart Cairo without saying goodbye. And the latter simply wasn’t an option.

  She reached for the doorknob, steeling herself for the task ahead.

  In that same instant, a soft rap sounded against the door.

  Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. It was an effort to calm its erratic beating. She took a breath and then another. It was past nine. Surely it was only Mira returning from the bazaar.

  But it wasn’t. Something in her knew it wasn’t.

  Sure enough, when she cracked open the door, it was to find Tom standing there, his hair rumpled and his leather attaché case in hand.

  He looked at her, seeming to take in her unbound hair and prim white dressing gown in one comprehensive glance. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” She stood back to allow him entry.

  He shut the door behind him and turned the lock. “I apologize for the lateness of the hour. I’d thought to be back by dinner, but everything took longer than I expected.”

  “Everything? What everything?”

  “Shall we sit down?”

  She tightened the sash of her dressing gown, feeling a sudden flush of embarrassment to be standing before him in her nightclothes. “If you like.”

  At the opposite side of the sitting room, two velvet upholstered chairs flanked a taboret. Tom turned them to face the small inlaid table, waiting for her to sit down before taking a seat himself.

  He withdrew a sheaf of papers from his attaché case. “No doubt you’ll think me high-handed.”

  She leaned forward. “What are these?”

  “The particulars of several houses I looked at today. I haven’t let one for you. I wouldn’t presume to without your approval. But I’ve found three suitable options. Each are well within your budget, as well as being safe and—”

  She gaped at him. “That’s where you’ve been today? Trying to find a house for me?”

  “In large part, yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come with you.”

  “For the same reason we haven’t been alone together since leaving India. It wouldn’t have been proper, the two of us perusing houses together.” He turned over another paper. “I won’t do any more harm to your reputation. You’ll need to be above reproach if you’re to remain in good stead with the other British residents of the city. If there’s a hint of scandal—”

  “How does coming to my hotel room figure into this plan of yours?”

  “No one saw me enter.”

  She pushed a stray lock of curling hair back from her face. “I thought you were avoiding me. I’d just resolved to visit your room when you knocked.”

  Tom’s brows lifted. “Dressed like that?”

  “Why not? You’ve seen me in less.”

  A faint blush crept up his neck. “Jenny, I—”

  “I wish you would have told me where it was you were going today. It would have saved me a great deal of worry. You know I’m always prone to think the worst.”

  “Even now? Even with me?”

  “Especially with you. It’s odd really, given the circumstances, but I don’t think I could bear it if you thought ill of me.”

  “You have nothing to worry about on that score. If you don’t realize that by now—”

  “I realize it. I do. It’s only that…we haven’t been alone together since Darjeeling. I can feel the distance between us widening every day. Which is as it sh
ould be, I know, but…there are times when I find it rather hard.”

  His gaze sharpened behind the lenses of his spectacles. “Are you having second thoughts about staying?”

  “No, indeed. I’m just a little melancholy over saying goodbye to you. It will be easier once I’m settled.” She lifted one of the papers. Tom’s neat, even handwriting covered the page. The sight of it made her heart ache. “You’ve been very thorough.”

  “I’ve tried to be.”

  “How did you navigate the city? Ahmad can’t have helped. He doesn’t speak Arabic. Not that I’m aware.”

  “I hired a dragoman—a native translator. There are dozens of them hanging about the lobby. I’ve taken the liberty of engaging one for you.” Tom drew her attention to another piece of paper. “His name is Achmet. An older chap. Reliable, as far as I can tell. I negotiated a rate of fifteen piastres a day, which equates to roughly five francs. Well within your budget. He’ll be at your disposal for as long as you need him.”

  She looked up at him, tears stinging at the back of her eyes. “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “I couldn’t very well leave you here without knowing you’d have a chance at suitable lodging and a decent interpreter.”

  “Thank you, Tom. I’m in your debt.”

  “Any solicitor would have done the same for his client.”

  The impersonal nature of his words chilled her to the bone. If he’d meant them to be reassuring, he’d failed miserably. All she felt was diminished. As if what he’d done had been purely a matter of form. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “But I thank you for your efforts all the same.”

  “Not at all.” He moved to rise. “Well, I think that’s everything.”

  A jolt of alarm shot through her. “Not quite everything, surely.”

  Tom went still. “No. Not quite.” After a long moment, he reached into the pocket of his trousers and withdrew a small wooden box. He set it on the inlaid table. “This is for you.”

  An uncertain smile tugged at her mouth. “Something you found at the bazaar?”

  “No. Something I’ve been carrying around with me for months. I bought it that evening in Calcutta when we went to the Chowringhee Road.”

  Her hands trembled inexplicably as she opened the little box. What she saw inside made her tremble all the more.

  It was a ring. A single rose-cut diamond set on a delicately woven band of gold.

  Her mouth went dry. “Is this…?”

  “At one time I meant it as an engagement ring, but now…” He cleared his throat. “I’d as soon you have it as me carrying it around for the rest of my life.”

  She lifted it from the box with tentative fingers. The diamond twinkled in the dim light. It was beautiful. Far more beautiful than anything she’d ever conjured in one of her childhood daydreams about handsome princes and romantic proposals. “It’s lovely, but…you know I can’t accept it.”

  “Why not? I want nothing from you in return. No promises. I realize this is goodbye.”

  Jenny’s eyes met his. His face was taut, his jaw gone stiff with tension. He looked tired and…anguished. Emotion welled in her throat. “I wanted to explain—”

  “What’s to explain? You’ve made your feelings abundantly clear.”

  “You’re angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry, I’m…” He exhaled a short gust of breath. “I don’t know what I am.”

  “Tom—”

  “I suppose I’m feeling sorry for myself. Wishing things were different.”

  She put the ring back in the box and slowly replaced the lid. “You don’t have to go away tomorrow. You could stay here a little while longer—”

  “But I can’t. My work is in London. Fothergill. My clients. All the people who depend on me. I’ve built a life there for myself. To leave it now—to drop everything and roam the world with you on a whim—would be nothing short of madness.”

  “Not if you cared for me more than all the rest of it.”

  The words were out before she could call them back. She’d have given anything not to have said them.

  Tom’s expression hardened. “What about you? If you cared for me even a fraction of the way I—”

  “That’s not fair. Not when you know how much it means to me to have my independence.”

  “You wouldn’t have to give up your independence if you came home.”

  “That’s exactly what I’d be giving up. And having done so, I’d be no happier with you in England than you’d be with me, roaming the world on a whim as you called it.”

  “You could be happy there if you’d let yourself.”

  He sounded so sure of himself. So certain that he knew what was best for her.

  It should have exasperated her, but it didn’t. Indeed, the brief flare of irritation she’d felt toward him evaporated as swiftly as it had come. Now all she felt was heartsick and defeated. “We’d be content together for a time, certainly,” she conceded. “But what about a year from now? What about all the years to come? I couldn’t bear to see the feelings I have for you turn to hatred.”

  Tom gave her one of his unreadable looks. “Could you hate me, Jenny?”

  “I daresay I could hate anyone who took away my freedom. Who made a prisoner of me.”

  “A prisoner?” He rose from his seat. “Good God. To hear you talk, one would think you’d been subjected to the worst forms of mistreatment.”

  She stood. “I never claimed so.”

  He crossed to the center of the room only to turn and face her, his rigid features shadowed in the light of one of the oil lamps. “Do you know, I don’t even believe it’s the desire for independence that drives you. When it all comes down to it, what you are is afraid. You believe that all men are as unreliable as your father and brothers. As careless of your tender feelings as Giles. You’re afraid of being hurt. Afraid some fellow will let you down. But I’m not like them. I’ve never been like them. If you don’t recognize it by now—”

  “Of course I recognize it. I esteem you above any gentleman I’ve ever met, but—”

  “You esteem me,” he scoffed.

  “Yes,” she retorted sharply. Her hand found its way to her necklace. The memory of how it had felt to stand there, weeping and pleading, as her father plundered her trinket case sent a jolt of nausea through her. “And you’re wrong about it being fear that drives me. It’s self-preservation. I won’t give up my rights over myself to anyone, particularly not to a man who could take away my money and property at the snap of his fingers. Who could rob me of my ability to go where I like when I like. Who could have me confined against my will to a country house in the back of beyond, or worse, committed to an asylum as Helena’s uncle tried to do to her.”

  “Do you believe even for a moment that I’d do any of those things to you?”

  “No,” she said. “But you could. You could. And the law would be entirely on your side.” And then what would she do? In past times of trouble, Tom had come to her rescue. But what if Tom became her adversary? What if his feelings faded and all that was left was the ruthless man that Giles had described to her? A man determined to win at all costs? She’d be powerless against him, in law as well as in fact.

  “I wouldn’t touch your money Jenny. And I’d sure as hell never threaten to have you committed. For God’s sake. Not all men are conscienceless monsters.”

  “And I’m supposed to take it all on faith, am I? To cede control of everything to you.” She folded her arms to stop their shaking. “What would you be giving up for me? From where I stand, it seems you’re unwilling to change your life at all for my sake.”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  “Because you’re a man.”

  “No!” he exclaimed. “Because I’m not going to alter myself any more than I already have. I’ve had enough in my
life of trying to conform to someone else’s ideal. Of believing that if only I were richer, smarter, or more handsome, then perhaps I’d be worthy of affection, or God forbid, love. I won’t do it anymore. Not with you. If you can’t accept me as I am—”

  She reached him in two strides and took his hard jaw in her hands. It seemed a vast presumption in the midst of such an argument. Even more so after having gone an entire month without touching him in any way more familiar than the occasional hand on his sleeve.

  Tom broke off midsentence on a harsh intake of breath. His eyes were riveted to hers as she stared up at him.

  Her voice softened with tenderness. She couldn’t bear him to think he wasn’t good enough. “You’re talking nonsense,” she said. “I’m not Mrs. Culpepper or any of those other shortsighted fools from your past. You don’t have to change anything about yourself to earn my regard.”

  His fingers closed gently around her wrists. A glimmer of hope shone in his face. “Jenny…”

  “But I can’t be the only one to compromise. I can’t turn myself into something I’m not just to please you. It’s no fairer of you to ask it of me than it would be for me to ask it of you. Surely you must see that?”

  The hope flickered and died, leaving his countenance cold. He very deliberately removed her hands from his face. “What I see is that this was a mistake.”

  Jenny’s heart stopped in her breast. “This,” she repeated. “Do you mean coming here tonight? Or do you mean us?”

  “Both, probably. All of it. All the time we spent together.” He moved away from her. The distance was no more than a step, but it felt as wide as a mile. “A proper courtship starts with an understanding. An acknowledgment of shared goals. But you and I…we’ve done this all backward.”

  “It was never a courtship.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I shouldn’t have suggested that we explore this attraction to each other. It was wrong of me. Deeply wrong.”

  “How can you say so? Unless you’re speaking of morality. Some idea you have that the intimacies we’ve shared must be confined to a marriage. In which case—”