Chapter 92

There was more in store for her, she reminded herself. A new town. A proper position.

Good wages.

Perhaps, if she worked hard, she might eventually have enough money to help her parents. She might even be able to send something home each month, enough to make her father’s life a little easier and her mother’s worries a little fewer.

Mr. Crane had assured them that the household in Bellhaven was well run and that the lady of the house was kind. He had explained that his sister required another maid to assist with the younger members of the household, and that Mabel’s youth, good health and willingness to work made her suitable for the role.

There were opportunities in Bellhaven that simply did not exist here in her village.

He had said it more than once, and Mabel believed him because it made sense.

What future could a girl have in a village where most families lived from one poor harvest to the next?

There were few households with enough money to employ another servant, and those that did rarely paid enough.

Bellhaven would be different. It was a thriving town, filled with merchants, shops, inns and large houses, and there was always work for those willing to seek it.

Mr. Crane had told her that he was taking a chance on her.

Those words meant more to Mabel than they probably should have. No one of his means needed to take a chance on a poor village girl.

The fact that he was willing to do so made her feel, for the first time, that perhaps there was something about her worth noticing.

Her father accompanied her to the door.

"Work hard," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "And mind your manners."

"I will."

"And write to us."

"I promise."

Her mother embraced her tightly then, and Mabel felt the familiar ache of leaving home settle beneath all her excitement.

She would miss them. She knew she would. Yet the ache was softened by the belief that she was leaving for something better, and that belief made the separation bearable.

When Mr. Crane approached the door, Mabel saw him smile warmly at her parents, the action meant to reassure them once more.

"There is no need to worry," he told them. "I shall see that she reaches my sister’s house safely."

Mabel’s mother thanked him and her father did the same.

Mr. Crane reached for her valise before she could protest.

"Allow me." He said kindly.

She thanked him and followed him outside.

The footman opened the carriage door, and Mabel stopped for a second at the sight of the upholstered interior. She had never travelled in such comfort before. Even the faint scent of leather and polished wood seemed to belong to another world.

Mr. Crane helped her inside and settled her valise beside her.

When he joined her, the door was closed, and the carriage soon began to roll away from the village.

Mabel leaned toward the window as long as she could, waving to her parents until the cottage disappeared behind a bend in the road.

Only then did she settle back into her seat.

Mr. Crane spoke occasionally during the journey, reassuring her whenever she expressed uncertainty about the arrangements.

He had already given her the information she needed, and Mabel was too absorbed in the scenery beyond the carriage window to notice how carefully he avoided saying anything that had not already been rehearsed.

The farther they travelled, the more the countryside changed.

The roads grew busier. There were more carts and wagons, more travellers, more signs of commerce and movement. Mabel watched everything with wide-eyed curiosity, imagining the life that awaited her.

She would earn her own money. She would learn how to conduct herself in a larger household.

Perhaps she might even make friends.

The possibilities seemed endless.

It was in the evening when the carriage finally slowed.

Mabel looked out of the window, not quite certain what she was expecting to see, but was instead confused to find herself staring at rows of warehouses.

Beyond them lay a stretch of water crowded with anchored ships while men moved crates and barrels along the busy dock.

Her excitement faltered. She looked toward Mr. Crane in confusion but he seemed entirely unconcerned.

"Where are we?" She finally asked.

He waved his hand flippantly as though she had asked the most ordinary question in the world. "We have had to make a slight detour."

Mabel glanced back toward the docks, unease blooming in her chest. "But Bellhaven is—"

"We are not far from it."

There was something in his tone that made her hesitate, though she could not have said precisely what it was. Maybe it was simply the weariness of the journey. Maybe she was being foolish and overreacting.

She did not wish to seem ungrateful.

Mr. Crane stepped down first and offered his hand to help her from the carriage.

Mabel accepted it.

The dock was louder than she had expected. Men called to one another, carts rattled over the uneven ground, and odd smells filled the air.

She looked around nervously.

"I thought we were going directly to your sister’s house."

"And we shall," he assured her. "There is merely another part of the journey first."

Mabel frowned faintly. "Another part?"

"Yes. Nothing for you to concern yourself with."

His tone remained calm, indulgent even, as though he were speaking to a child who had become unnecessarily worried.

"We shall be there soon enough. You have had a long journey, and I would rather you simply trusted me."

Mabel lowered her eyes, feeling thoroughly chastised.

He had been nothing but kind to her and treated her parents well. He had offered her an opportunity that might change her entire life. There was no reason not to trust him.

So she nodded, looking subdued.

"All right." She murmured.

"Good." His hand remained around hers as he led her across the dock.

At first, Mabel thought nothing of it. Then his fingers tightened around her.