Chapter 4 #3
He gave her a stiff nod and handed over the bag of fish. He tossed her a fast smile and said, “To you, Miss Clara, I say you are quite welcome.” I thought I saw her blush. I rolled my eyes inwardly. No man could make me blush. Ever.
I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the fish.
I was going to have to eat it. My stomach turned over and over at the thought.
I had always delicately pushed my food around my plate when fish came in a course.
Now I had to eat it for a week or go hungry.
I didn’t even want to think about after that week was over.
Without money, we would have to find work.
Mr. Wortham had mentioned working for our next supply of food, and I was afraid to know what that meant.
But I wasn’t going to tell him any secrets; that I knew.
“And when this is gone?” I asked. “How will we afford anything more?”
He raised both eyebrows this time. “Work,” he affirmed.
If we could convince him to provide for us until Mama sent a new allowance of money, I could continue through life in this wasteland without lifting a finger. I decided to employ my oldest and most talented tactic.
It began with a slight pout of my lips. Then I leaned in close. “Is there truly no other option? We are so very afraid and alone.”
Instead of acting flustered, bending to my requests, Mr. Wortham surprised me.
He stepped even closer. His closeness afforded me with a new view of his eyes.
They were not only blue—they were streaked with green and edged in grey.
“If it suits you, catching fish would be your best option. I would very much like to see you sporting a pair of fishermen trousers.” A wink followed the words.
Well, dash it. The man could flirt with the best of us.
The shock of his words struck me silent, which was likely what he intended. I wanted to stomp my foot and demand my way, but I suspected he would find amusement in such an act. “You will never have the privilege.”
“A shame. But I happen to know of a few more suitable employs for a lady. One of which may be of particular interest.”
I cast my eyes at Clara. “What is it?”
“I am not at liberty to disclose the position at this time.” He rubbed the stubble at his jaw. “Although I am a tradesman of sorts, so something could be arranged…”
“We have no secrets to share!” I half-screeched.
His eyes widened. “It appears you do. Let us strike a bargain. I shall recommend you for any work you may seek in exchange for a tale of your past and the meaning of your visit to Craster.”
I gritted my teeth. “Your generosity isn’t given freely, I see.”
“Only when it’s appreciated. In your case, I should like to see you earn it.” Then he smiled. Never had I wanted to slap a man in the face more than I did just now. “Good day, Miss Clara,” he nodded, “Miss Bentford…and Charlotte.”
The ribbon of my bonnet seemed to be growing increasingly tight. “You will address us properly.” I managed to keep my voice even.
“I’m in no position to take orders from you. In one week’s time, you could end up cleaning and gutting my catches in the market, in which case, you’ll be taking orders from me.” His words hung in the air as he walked away with a nod and a victorious grin.
When he was out of earshot, I gave a frustrated sigh and stomped down the road in the opposite direction. The man was infuriating! His head was far above his station. I considered death in higher regard than taking orders from that rugged fisherman.
“Charlotte.” A stern voice stopped me in my tracks.
Miss Bentford had caught up to me, her cheeks red with exertion and a hint of anger.
I never would have expected her to display anything but timid reservation or exaggerated shock.
“I daresay you have more hair than wit.” Her brow furrowed, and the insult scratched at my pride.
She took a deep breath. “Informing a man—a stranger—about the desperation of your circumstances is never wise. And now we are indebted to him.”
A gust of cold wind cut through my sleeves, and I shivered. “We owe him nothing. He did as any gentleman would.”
“Gentleman? Do you think he is a gentleman?” Miss Bentford’s thin brows lifted.
I swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. We shall never have to see him again.”
Miss Bentford seemed to relax, but only a little. “Do not tell him anything else. He has no need to know where we are living, and certainly not that we are living without the protection of a man.”
“He didn’t seem dangerous to me,” Clara piped in. “He seemed concerned, that’s all.”
She always was the optimistic one.
Miss Bentford patted her on the sleeve with a sigh. “Let us hope you are right, dear Clara.”
“He was quite handsome too, was he not?” Clara added.
I snorted. “He is terrible. And stop grinning like a ninny.”
She scowled at me. “He has been very kind. Perhaps if you hadn’t been so impertinent he might have been even more generous. Already he has helped us very much.”
“Only with a smelly bag of fish,” I mumbled.
“Would you prefer to be begging on the streets and selling even more of our things?”
That silenced me. The image of the little girl sobbing into her father’s shoulder flashed in my mind.
I imagined myself at her age, with my muslin gowns and ribbons and all the fine food and drink I desired, and her, wearing rags and going hungry under a dark grey sky.
Something inside me ached at the thought.
We began our walk, my stomach heavy with dread. I was not any closer to meeting Lord Trowbridge than I had been that morning, and our venture into town had left us even more destitute than we had been before.
“We need Mr. Wortham’s help, Charlotte,” Clara said in a quiet voice, interrupting my silence. “He said he knew of a respectable opportunity for work. He seems trustworthy enough. And why should it matter if he knows the truth of our situation? You are not trying to secure a match with him.”
I pulled my arm away from hers and tightened my cloak around me. “He could tell the entire town. I don’t trust him.”
“Why? Is it because he is below our station? Not outrageously wealthy? Heavens, Charlotte, wealth of kindness may not be important among the ton but I’m afraid we are far beneath their notice now. It is time you rely on something more than your beauty and talents to meet success.”
I glared at her under my lashes. “You have been brimming with unwanted advice of late. I am the older sister, therefore, I am the wisest. I say we do not trust Mr. Wortham. He is improper and ridiculous and disrespectful and—”
“Handsome,” Clara suggested.
I rolled my eyes, refusing to agree verbally.
“I must own that it was refreshing to see a man maintain his head in the sight of you and your flirting.” She laughed deeply.
It was humiliating, really. Nothing was right in the world here in the North.
I was accustomed to lush woods, bell pulls, satin gowns, and a certain authority in the art of flirting.
I had failed to make a match time and time again.
Why should my luck turn now? What if I failed to win Lord Trowbridge?
Would Mama make other arrangements? Or would we be ruined and abandoned forever?
I shuddered at the thought of gutting fish in the market while Mr. James Wortham relished in the sight.
Sooner would I starve to death.