Chapter 12 #3
Jenny shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, torn with an unbearable struggle. She wanted to kiss Miriam again, and to answer the demands that her body was currently assailing her with, but she was scared of the desperation showing.
Cautiously, she placed her hand on Miriam’s breast, and the small gasp that resulted sent her head spinning. She withdrew her hand, but Miriam clasped it and held it tight.
‘I’m greedy, forgive me,’ she said, leaning her head against Jenny’s lap. ‘It’s all new to you. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world to discover each other. I can wait.’
Miriam’s gentle acknowledgement of Jenny’s trepidation was oddly arousing. She hadn’t come with the intention of seducing or being seduced, but she discovered now that she was more than eager to let that happen.
‘We might not have to wait too long,’ she murmured, looking into Miriam’s eyes.
She smiled in excitement. ‘I have recently become involved with a business venture that I hope will become profitable. It might even give me the means to support myself. An acquaintance and I have happened upon the most remarkable tonic. My uncle tried it, and it quite revolutionised his artistic endeavours. Once or twice, we have held a salon for women to sample it for themselves and the effects are marvellous.’
She looked at Miriam for endorsement, but instead found an expression of suspicion laced with disapproval.
‘I wonder if you or any of your fellow residents might be interested,’ she added, in case her meaning hadn’t been clear.
Miriam sucked her teeth. ‘I imagine suggesting that to Mr and Mrs Godolphin would be an efficient way to find my lease terminated with immediate effect. They are Methodists and one of the conditions of residency here is abstaining from alcohol on the premises.’
‘It isn’t alcohol,’ Jenny said. ‘It has a base of opium and other sundry ingredients which combine to—’
‘No more! I’ve heard enough.’ Miriam swung her legs round and sat up. ‘I’m afraid you won’t find a willing customer in me, Jenny. Aside from a glass of porter to take the chill off the evening, and a coffee, I take no stimulants and certainly no opiates. It isn’t safe.’
‘But it’s used so commonly in medicine for the mildest ailments. If it wasn’t safe, that would not be allowed. It’s the misuse of it that is the ill,’ Jenny replied. She leant towards Miriam, missing the feel of her body already.
‘And how easily does use become misuse? There is no way to tell who will succumb to its call,’ Miriam snapped.
Jenny flinched inwardly at the strength of feeling manifest in Miriam’s voice. Mrs Browne flashed into her mind, but the ill there had been her husband’s brutality, not the tincture. ‘I can’t answer to that,’ she said. ‘But I trust my friend’s recipe.’
‘You shouldn’t.’ Miriam wrapped her arms protectively around her chest. She looked so vulnerable that Jenny wanted to embrace her but Miriam set her jaw and gave Jenny a serious look.
‘I have seen with my own eyes the devastation that such an addiction can leave in its wake. The consumption of opium led to the end of my father’s life. ’
Jenny’s stomach twisted. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
‘His plight started with a fall, resulting in a broken leg. He used opiates for the pain, prescribed by his doctor, at first; but he craved it long after his leg was healed. From that moment, he became addicted and quite unable to give it up.’
Jenny listened in silence. The raw pain in Miriam’s voice was awful to hear.
‘He spent his nights insensible and his days craving his next dose. He was present in body, but absent in will and attention.’
Miriam glanced away, staring at a point above Jenny’s head, and when she looked back, her eyes were heavy. ‘You might tempt other women to try whatever you have discovered, but I never will.’
The inflection on the word ‘tempt’ made Jenny feel like the serpent in Eden. If the bottle of tincture had been to hand, she might have emptied it onto the floor.
‘I’m truly sorry for what your father endured,’ she said.
‘Not just my father. His pursuit of the means to purchase it led to our family’s descent into poverty and indignity and to my mother’s untimely passing.’ Miriam pressed her lips together tightly and blinked. Unexpectedly, she turned to Jenny and took both her hands, pressing them tightly.
‘Jenny, it isn’t my place, but I urge you to reconsider becoming involved in any such venture. Nothing good will come of it.’
‘I will give your words serious thought,’ Jenny said quietly.
Miriam squeezed her hands tighter, apparently accepting this as an agreement.
Jenny bit her tongue as a little worm nibbled at her conscience.
It wasn’t a lie, because she would consider it, but the money she had already earned was sitting in her bedside drawer along with her diary and Bible.
It was her means to independence, the only way she could see of ever being free of her uncle’s rule, and the only way in which a future with Miriam might be possible.