I looked up at Gideon and smiled. He smiled back and paid the vendor for our drinks. “I wondered where you were,” I said as we strolled away. “I didn’t see you here and thought maybe you didn’t approve of dancing.”
“I approve, though others don’t.” He nodded across the square to where the Heirs sat to the side, watching in disapproval. “Seeing as they don’t know about my leaving yet, I figured I should keep the peace. Can we go back to the wagons and talk?”
My heart accelerated. “Of course.”
We wound our way through the festivities, back to the quiet of the caravan. I had to stop myself from shaking. Was this it? The moment I officially accepted a marriage proposal in Adoria? That had been the whole point of everything I’d endured, and the possibility of it becoming a certainty was both exciting—and frightening. Was I fool to consider Gideon over some shipping baron or plantation owner?
Leaning against a large wagon, underneath a hanging lantern, Gideon sipped his drink and seemed to be preparing himself. After long moments, he smiled at me and said, “Tamsin, what you told me...that was incredibly brave.”
“W-what?”
“Not that I’m surprised. I’ve been saying forever that you’re brave, and that just proved it. I just wish you’d told me sooner. I can’t imagine what it must be like carrying that kind of secret. It must be so hard being away from her. I wish I could have been helping you long before now.”
My hands began to shake. “You . . . you mean that?”
“Absolutely.” He finished the rest of his lemonade and set the cup down. “What’s her name?”
“M-Merry. It’s short for Meredith.”
“Merry,” he repeated, and I again experienced the joy of hearing someone else say my daughter’s name. “It’s beautiful. I bet she is too. Does she have red hair like you?”
“She does.”
His grin broadened. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
I had to stop myself from gaping again. “Gideon . . .”
“Yes, Tamsin. This doesn’t change how I feel about you. I still want to marry you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I never could catch you alone, and I admit . . . it was a surprise. But I understand why you’d keep that secret close to you—I imagine you don’t always get the best responses from others.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I said, still in shock.
He shook his head. “Like I said—I can’t imagine. It must be hard on both of you, dealing with that judgment from others who certainly aren’t perfect. I know I’m not. I made my own share of mistakes when I was younger.”
I came out of my daze enough to note, “She’s not a mistake. Some of my actions were—but not her.”
“I’m sorry,” he said with a grimace. “I didn’t mean to— Ugh. There I go again, messing up what I want to say. See? This is why I need you. If you’ll still have me.”
I put a hand on the wagon to steady myself. Was this it? Should I do it? Though I still hurt, I would have to move on from Jago one way or another, so why not with someone who loved me and could support my child too?
I had to wet my lips a few times before I could speak. “Yes. I will. But—just to be clear—you’re sure you have the money? My contract could be close to two hundred gold. And some months, Merry’s medicine has cost three gold. It won’t be this way forever—she’ll outgrow this ailment. But it adds up now. I want her to get a good education too. And I promised to send for my parents and siblings—”
Gideon stopped me by putting a finger to my lips. “Yes. I can afford it all, once I get the rest of my money from the bank. I can’t promise you a hundred silk gowns or real silver cutlery, but we’ll live well enough. And we’ll live with love.”
“Thank you,” I said softly. “And I’m sorry to keep coming back to money. It’s nothing personal against you. It’s just—”
“Merry’s a priority,” he finished. “You have to accommodate that. We have to.”
I wasn’t in love with him, but I did love him a little for that. “I can’t wait to see her again. I’d like to have everything in order right away. Do you think we can get married immediately?”
He laughed. “Wasn’t I just begging you the other night? Of course we can. I’d marry you now if I could. When does she get here?”
“Six weeks.”
His smile remained as his eyes grew thoughtful. “That’s enough time to get everything settled. We can start putting out word about her, so it doesn’t come as a surprise to others. I really want this to be easy for both of you—no more judgment or censure.”
“I want that too.”
“And that’s why I was thinking . . . your story about being a widow might not go far enough.”
I frowned. “How so?”
“What if someone asks for details about her father?”
“Don’t worry—I’ve thought about that. I’ve got a whole biography ready.”
“But some might think it’s suspicious that you never mentioned her before. And some might just start overanalyzing the fact that you have a daughter at all.”
A sense of unease began to run over me. “Where are you going with this, Gideon?”
“I think you need a new story. I think we should say that she’s your little sister who’s come to live with us. It’ll chase away any doubts about her heritage, and when we bring the rest of your family over, it’ll seem more plausible still.”
The whole world came to a screeching halt around me. “You want me to lie about her?”
“You were already going to.”
“About whether I’d been married or not! Not about if she’s my daughter! And it’s not really going to work when she calls me ‘Mama.’”
“She’s young enough to adapt. We’ll keep correcting her, and eventually, she’ll forget.” He tilted his head to peer more closely at me. “Tamsin, what’s that look for?”
“What do you bloody think?” I exclaimed. “I’m not going to stop being her mother!”
“You won’t be,” he said, startled. “Nothing can change that. This’ll just be in how the world sees it. You want to be free of judgment, of people looking down on you—and her? This is it. We remove any doubt or suspicion. Make sure it’s never an issue. It’s especially important going forward with our new venture. If I’m trying to teach people to lead a principled life, I shouldn’t have any questions coming up about my own household.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out right away. “Is that what this is about? Not saving us from judgment—but saving face for you?”
“It’s for all of us.”
“You said you understood! That you made your own ‘mistakes’ when you were young.”
“I do, and I did. I don’t judge you, but others will.”
I stared at him for a long time, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. Astonishingly, for the most part, I believed he was. He thought he was doing the right thing.
“Gideon, I’m not going to say she’s my sister. We’ve done that in the past on certain occasions, but going forward? No more. I am her mother. She will know that. The whole world will know that. Do you know why I write those letters every damned night? To make sure she remembers I’m her mother! I’m not going to undo all that.”
“Then you could risk undoing all that I’ll have done!” He put a hand to his forehead, face anguished. “You know how carefully we’ll have to tread. Any deviation of belief from the orthodox faith gets scrutinized for heresy! We don’t want others thinking badly of my new church. We have to be beyond reproach. If I’m going to encourage people to lead meaningful lives free of corruption and façades, then we have to be a shining example of it.”
“By creating a façade?” I snapped.
A spark of anger glinted in his eyes, the only time I’d ever seen it, aside from his quarrel with Roger. “You want
to create one too. Remember how you said the money wasn’t personal, but that it was essential with Merry as your priority? Well, following my dream—this vision of mine—is my priority. Changing the story isn’t personal either. It just makes it less likely that someone’ll figure everything out. That’s good for me—and for you too.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was so used to condemnation and humiliation for my past that this new twist caught me off guard. Gideon accepted me . . . but not all of me. And it was maddening to have someone so ostensibly understanding be so completely clueless. The fragile hope of a loving marriage I thought I had in my hands began to crumble.
“It’s not good for me,” I said, trying to be calm. “It’s unacceptable for me. I’ve compromised on so much, sacrificed on so much—but being her mother is not negotiable. I’d rather have everyone in the world know the truth—that I got pregnant when I wasn’t married—than believe a sanitized story about her being my sister.”
Gideon threw his hands up. “Well, you might get your wish if something goes wrong!”
“I’ll take the chance!”
“I won’t!”
The words fell down like thunder. We could only stare at each other, both too worked up to speak, while the revelry continued in the background.
“Well,” I said after an eternity, “that’s that.”
Gideon put a hand to his forehead and seemed to wilt where he stood. “Tamsin, please be reasonable. I love you. And as her mother, you should do what’s best for her.”
A cool, razor-sharp sense of purpose settled over me, and I shoved away any last sentimental thoughts. “You don’t love me enough, Gideon. And yes, I am her mother, and I’m going to do what’s best for her. Happy Flower Fest, Gideon.”
“Wait,” he called as I began to walk away, “what are you doing?”
I paused and gestured toward the square. “I’m going to have another dance or two, and then I’m going to get a good night’s sleep so that I can get to work in Cape Triumph tomorrow.”
“Tamsin . . .”
“I came to Adoria for a reason.” I turned my back on him and didn’t stop again. “Thank you for reminding me, Gideon.”
CHAPTER 31
WE MADE GOOD TIME TO CAPE TRIUMPH, BETTER THAN the guide expected, considering how late most of us had stayed up. We left at dawn and reached the old fort that stood just outside Cape Triumph’s main entrance about two and a half hours later. A wooden wall, left over from more-vulnerable days, surrounded the city, though there were a number of gaps throughout. Relative peace in recent years had lessened the need for constant fortifications.
I stared up at it with a chill running down my back. I’d been in Adoria for weeks now, but until then, every place I’d traveled had been an obstacle to this. Now, the full weight of where I was hit me. Cape Triumph. The oldest Osfridian city in the New World, one that had survived against the odds. Constancy was still trying to establish itself. Cape Triumph had already succeeded. It wasn’t a transient settlement. It was a true city. The city. Here, lives could be changed.
Most of the main roads in the area terminated at the large gate on Cape Triumph’s west side. Its doors were left permanently open, and two soldiers keeping watch from on high gave our caravan a wave as we passed through. I returned their waves with a grin and then fixed my attention back on the sights before me as we entered. There was so much to see; I didn’t know where to look.
Winnifred squeezed my hand. “Can you believe it?” she whispered. “We made it.”
“We did. Everything’s going to be okay now. Better than okay.” I swallowed as an unexpected surge of emotion threatened to bring tears to my eyes. “Everything’ll be perfect now.”
Nothing about Cape Triumph was predictable. Some buildings were old and finely crafted; others looked like they might have just been thrown together yesterday. One neighborhood looked meticulously planned, its streets in a perfect grid. Other sections showed the signs of decades of gradual settlement, built upon and expanded as needs required. There were no subdued colors or attempts at austerity here. Homeowners and shopkeepers painted buildings however the mood struck them. The city made no pretenses to conformity. It seemed to be saying, “I’m here, take me as I am.” When I could lift my eyes from the array of sights, I became aware of the massive trees just outside the city’s perimeter. They too seemed to have a message, reminding everyone that Cape Triumph still survived in the shadow of the wilderness.
As wondrous as the city itself was, a new excitement began to stir within me. “Where’s the Glittering Court?” I called to our guides when our party came to a halt in one of the city’s more commercial districts. The streets were fairly empty, either because of the hour or recovery from last night’s Flower Festival. Those few residents I did see were as diverse and fascinating as the city.
They didn’t hear me because Captain Milford was loudly going on about needing to get to the docks and check in with the sailors’ guild to report on the loss of his ship. The Heirs wanted to find a respectable inn, admitting at the same time that they thought no such thing existed. The guides hired to see our belongings delivered glanced about uncertainly. I tried in vain to get someone’s attention, much to the amusement of an elderly man in a raccoon fur cap whittling outside a fine jewelry store that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Osfro.
“Excuse me!” I finally yelled. The others stopped talking. “You can do whatever you want, but the rest of us are going to the Glittering Court. Mister Brennan, do you know where Charles Thorn’s home is?”
Among the travelers not affiliated with my friends, Frank was the only one from the caravan who’d stuck around. And Archibald, of course.
“Wisteria Hollow—it’s a house not far outside the city proper. I can give you directions or take you there myself.”
“I’m sure you mean well, sir,” said Samuel, “but they are our responsibility. We can’t let them go off alone with a stranger.”
“You’re not going off without us either,” insisted Captain Milford. “Thorn needs to know there’s a debt to settle.”
In the end, Captain Milford sent his first mate and some of the sailors with us to help with the cargo and discuss payment with Jasper. Frank went on his way, telling us in a hopeful tone that he looked forward to seeing us again. He and one of the merchants who’d been with us took enough of their belongings to free up a cart, and those of us on foot piled in, happy to rest before reaching our new home.
Gideon rode in the cart as well, sitting on the opposite side from me. He’d said little all morning, and his eyes were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept. I glanced at him once and then spent the rest of the ride talking to the other girls. Our fight still stung. He’d been my friend, after all. But I couldn’t spare any more energy on him, not when I was on the verge of getting my life back on track—and reuniting with my very best friends.
If they were still my friends? Mira would welcome me, but what about Adelaide? I ached to see her but suddenly feared for my reception. Polly glanced over at me and did a double take.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, misinterpreting my expression. “Do you think . . . do you think it’s too late for us? That they’re done arranging marriages?”
Joan blanched. “They can’t be . . . can they? Will they turn us out?”
Everyone was suddenly looking at me, and I shook my head. “Don’t be silly. There’s always a need for women around here. At the very least, some destitute bond servant will be looking for a wife. I’m kidding,” I added, seeing shocked looks. “Plenty of well-off men still need us, and besides, Mister Thorn should’ve gotten our letter by now and will have things prepared.”
We took a well-traveled road out of the city and quickly found ourselves passing through forest and land cleared for farming. Our excited chatter eventually faded away, and we simply watched and waited for any sign of ou
r destination.
“There!” Vanessa shot to her feet and pointed. “Look—look at that house. It’s what Mister Brennan described. And it even has wisteria on the porch!”
Said wisteria was only just showing signs of spring renewal. It hung on a stately three-story white house with black shutters and large glass windows. A burly man in overalls and a straw hat sat on the porch, yawning, though he jumped to his feet when he saw us approach the house.
An almost comical moment of indecision followed when we’d all assembled on the house’s lawn. “We have been their caretakers,” Samuel announced. “We should be the ones to officially present them. Gideon, since this trip with the Icori was done at your insistence, you can take the lead.”
Gideon jumped, startled at the recognition. He’d been staring off into space and clearly didn’t want to take the lead on anything. But after a few moments to compose himself, he managed to put on the pleasant, practiced face of someone who dealt with the public. He stepped up on the porch, flanked by the other Heirs. The rest of us followed closely.
He knocked.
It took seconds, maybe, for the door to open, but it felt like one of the longest waits of my life. The young woman who appeared was about five years older than us, and I recognized her after a few moments: Miss Bradley, the Dunford Manor mistress who’d chaperoned the Good Hope. Her jaw dropped when she found what was waiting on the porch.
Gideon took off his hat. “Good morning, mistress. My name is Gideon Stewart. Can you tell me if this is the household of Mister Charles Th—”
His words were cut off by the shouting of a delighted voice. “Winnifred! Joan!”
A girl I didn’t know hurried out of the foyer, bumping Miss Bradley along the way. Winnifred gave a squeal when she saw the girl, and the two met in a hug. And suddenly, the rest of us were rushing forward, spilling into the house as all attempts at orderliness vanished. Oddly, most of the resident Glittering Court girls appeared to be right there in the foyer. If not for their stunned expressions upon realizing who we were, I might have thought they’d been expecting us. Most of them didn’t know us, divided as we’d been between manors. The girl who’d greeted Winnifred and Joan was the one who’d switched with me on the ship.
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