14. The Unexpected Assignment
Fourteen
The Unexpected Assignment
T he London docks were alive with their usual morning chaos as dockworkers hauled crates and barrels from ships that creaked while unloading its precious cargo; the air, thick with salt spray and the shouts of commerce, accompanied—as always—this ceaseless routine.
Mr. Moore stood at the edge of a pier, ledger in hand, overseeing the unloading of one of Sullivan Shipping’s vessels with his customary animosity.
Captain Harris, a sturdy man with a weather-beaten face, somber beneath the weight of bearing bad news, pointed to several damaged crates piled haphazardly on the dock.
“Storm hit us three days from port,” he reported, “lost two men and nearly a quarter of the tea shipment.”
Mr. Moore looked up from his ledger. “What of the men’s families?”
Captain Harris seemed surprised by the question. “Jones had a wife and two boys in Bristol. Walsh was unmarried.”
“See that Jones’ family receives three months’ wages,” Mr. Moore said without hesitation. “I’ll speak with Mrs. Moore-Sullivan about arranging a pension.”
The captain nodded, touching his cap with newfound respect. “Not many owners concern themselves with the men.”
“Mrs. Moore-Sullivan insists on it. The human cost matters more than cargo.”
“She’s changed things for the better,” Harris observed. “Her father was fair, but…”
“But she sees what others miss,” Mr. Moore finished quietly. “I’m well aware.”
A commotion near the gangplank interrupted their conversation. Vikram wove through the crowd of dockworkers with the agility of former runner, narrowly avoiding a rolling barrel as he searched the dock with obvious urgency.
“Vikram?” Mr. Moore called, surprised to see the boy so far from home.
Vikram spotted him immediately and rushed over, slightly out of breath but beaming with the importance of his mission.
“Mr. Moore! I’ve been searching the docks for an hour!”
“What’s happened?” Mr. Moore asked, alarm creeping into his voice. “Is Mrs. Moore-Sullivan well?”
“She’s fine, sir. But she sent me with this.” Vikram produced a sealed note from his jacket pocket, slightly crumpled from his journey but intact. Mr. Moore took it, anxiety visible until he confirmed the familiar wax seal.
“Thank you, Captain,” he said, dismissing Harris with a nod. “We’ll continue the inventory this afternoon.”
As the captain returned to his duties, Mr. Moore moved to a quieter spot near the pier’s edge, breaking the seal with careful fingers. Vikram hovered nearby, waiting.
“Mrs. Moore-Sullivan said I was to wait for your reply,” the boy announced proudly. “She trusts me with messages now.”
Mr. Moore glanced up with a small smile before returning to Kate’s beautiful script. “Did she now?”
“She said it was urgent business. About the countryside estate.” Vikram’s eyes were bright with curiosity. “She showed me on a map where Thornfield is. It’s very far. Will we take a carriage?”
Mr. Moore looked up sharply from the note. “We?”
“Mrs. Moore-Sullivan said I was to accompany you,” Vikram explained. “She said I’ve earned the responsibility.”
Mr. Moore studied the boy for a moment, then looked back at Kate’s message, his expression growing more serious as he absorbed its contents.
“Indeed she has,” he murmured, folding the note carefully and tucking it into his waistcoat pocket. “It appears the tenant at our Thornfield property has reported structural damage following the recent storms. Mrs. Moore-Sullivan feels it requires immediate assessment.”
“She said she cannot go herself because—”
“Because she has meetings with the solicitors regarding her father’s estate,” Mr. Moore finished.
Vikram nodded, pleased to have delivered his message correctly. “When we leave?”
Mr. Moore glanced back at the ship still being unloaded, calculating time and obligations.
“I need to complete the inventory here and make arrangements for the damaged cargo.” He checked his pocket watch.
“Find Mary at the house. Tell her to pack my travel case. Five days’ worth of attire should suffice. ”
Vikram’s eyes widened with excitement. “Five days?”
“Thornfield is a considerable journey. Once there, proper assessment will take time.”
“Will Mary come with us?”
“No. Mrs. Moore-Sullivan will need her here. You’ll assist me instead.”
Vikram straightened visibly, clearly pleased with the responsibility but also aware of its weight. Mr. Moore studied the boy’s earnest face.
“Can you manage that?”
“Yes, sir! I won’t disappoint you.”
“I know you won’t.” Mr. Moore reached into his pocket and withdrew a few coins. “Take a hackney back to the house. Tell Mary we leave at first light tomorrow. And Vikram—”
The boy paused, already turning to dash off on his important errand.
“No detours. Straight there.”
“I promise, sir.”
As Vikram disappeared into the crowd, weaving between carts and workers with renewed purpose, a dockworker’s shout drew Mr. Moore’s attention back to the immediate demands of business.
* * *
By late afternoon, the Sullivan Shipping office had settled into the quieter rhythm of paperwork and final accounts. Mr. Moore worked methodically at the desk inside his private office, signing documents and making annotations in the ledger, when the door opened without ceremony.
“Evening, husband!”
Kate entered, removing her gloves with the tiredness of someone who had concluded a long day of meetings. She was dressed in deep green, her business attire elegant yet practical, and Jason stood immediately upon seeing her.
“Kate. I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I concluded my meetings early than I thought.” She moved to the desk, setting her reticule down and reaching for one of the manifests spread before him. Her sharp gaze scanned the figures eagerly. “I see you’ve managed the inventory from the Victoria.”
“Yes. Captain Harris reports storm damage to nearly a quarter of the tea shipment.”
Kate’s expression grew troubled as she studied the numbers in detail. “That’s the third vessel this month to encounter trouble. The weather has been merciless.” She reached out and took his pen from his hand to make a note in the margin, leaving the trail of her perfume in the air.
Jason inhaled it deeply, closing his eyes, his body leaning forward before he caught himself.
“We’ll need to adjust our insurance premiums accordingly. I’ll speak with Lloyd’s tomorrow,” kept saying Kate.
Then she lowered the manifest and looked at him directly, catching him blinking repeatedly, as if trying to steady himself. Her mouth twitched at the corner. “Did Vikram find you earlier?”
“Uhmm—yes, he did. Quite proud of his mission.” His voice came out slightly uneven.
A genuine smile crossed Kate’s face—the kind that transformed her features entirely. The kind that never failed to astonish Mr. Moore when seeing it. She noticed, regarding him with visible pleasure, and her smile deepened just a fraction, making her eyes also shine brightly.
“He admires you greatly. I thought the responsibility would serve him well.”
“It seems your methods of guidance are proving effective,” he observed, and their eyes locked.
Kate pushed the manifest aside but her fingers stilled on it, as if the look had suspended all movement.
One.
Two.
Three seconds.
She cleared her throat softly, rounded the corner of the desk towards he stood and reached past him for another paper. The movement brought her closer, her sleeve nearly brushing his arm, and her perfume clouded his senses entirely now.
“You received my note about Thornfield then?”
He didn’t move an inch away. “Yes…” but the word came out strained. It was his turn now to clear his throat, as if something had lodged there. “I’ve… uhmm… arranged to depart tomorrow morning.”
Kate’s eyes lifted from the paper she’d been pretending to examine, her attention sharpening. She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Is there something wrong? You seem… hesitant.”
Jason made a nonchalant gesture before speaking again, “Merely considering logistics. Five days is a significant absence from the office.”
“The office will survive,” Kate’s voice softened gradually when adding, “will you miss London so terribly in that time?”
The question stirred something deep inside him, weighted with meaning beyond its simple words. Their eyes locked for what seemed like longer than it actually was, quickening both their pulses and rapidly heightening the tension.
Kate decided to wet her lips right at that moment.
“Not London, no,” he replied, directing his gaze toward her mouth.
Kate’s lips curved into another smile. “No?” She hummed softly. “What then?”
Jason found himself momentarily unable to speak, trapped in the darkness of her eyes. His hand moved to adjust his collar, then stopped halfway, the gesture awkwardly unfinished.
“The company,” he said at last, and they both knew he didn’t mean the business.
“Aaah.” Kate rested her hand flat on the desk, leaning in just a bit.
Her voice dropped to something more intimate.
Whether it was intentional or not, he couldn’t say.
But it was working too damn well on him.
“I confess, that’s partly why I came. The day felt rather meaningless without seeing you today. ”
Her voice was sweet, too sweet perhaps, and Jason’s chest rose visibly with the urgency of bringing air into his lungs.
His fingers curled against his thigh while Kate’s expression revealed that she was satisfied with the effect of her words, and her tone, even as her own breathing deepened.
She pressed her lips together briefly, fighting back another flirty smile.
He brushed his lips together, as if testing whether words would cooperate before saying, “You’re seeing me now.”
“Yes… I am.” Her eyes held a spark of mischief as her gaze dropped briefly to his mouth. “Tell me.” She leaned an inch closer to him, and her voice became honey as she spoke, “did the hours feel interminable for you as well?”