Time & Tide - Original Wattpad Version

Chapter Twenty-Four: In Which Jessie Spills the Beans

We paused long enough for a quick lunch, which I had been remiss in helping Miss Brown prepare. She gave me a bit of a scathing look but accepted my apology when I told her I'd been helping Miss Margaret with her writing. Even though it was supposed to be strange that a woman threw herself so single-mindedly into writerly pursuits - or at least, that's what English Lit. and History classes told me - apparently everyone in Margaret's life was all for her doing it. Though, according to some cross-talk I heard between Miss Brown and Mr. Edwards, they only thought Margaret was doing it to fill time until she got sensibly married.

Ha. Joke's on them.

As Miss Rose was again out making the obligatory visits to friends and drumming up some more pupils to tutor – and I was warned that it would be our turn to host tomorrow – and Mrs. Goodenough had chosen to take her luncheon at the Pump Room, Margaret and I ate yesterday's leftovers in the kitchen and chatted with Miss Brown. I hadn't thought that in Margaret's social situation sitting around eating leftovers with the servants was a done thing, but it seemed that the done thing for Margaret was anything that Margaret wanted to do.

Her concentration thoroughly broken, Margaret suggested a walk down along her favorite gravel path. My legs protested but I decided that it might be good for the sore muscles to get a bit of a mild workout. Having nothing better to do than to be at Margaret's complete leisure, I agreed to go along. I changed into the warmer calico blue dress, now trimmed with the same coarse brown of my jacket, with no bonnet. Beside Margaret in her white dress and dark plum coat and matching hat, we made an interesting picture, I was sure. Margaret was twenty-four, I had learned during my time with the Gales; two years younger than Francis, five years younger than Rose, and one year my senior. But out under the clear April sky, cheeks red with nip of the wind and her careless attempt at securing her hair up causing mischievous little tendrils to wriggle out of the back of her bonnet to dance in the wind, she looked ageless; lovely.

I reached out and looped my hand through her elbow as we passed the milliner's I had been eyeing up yesterday. Margaret paused when she noticed my interested and looked at our hands while I peered through the glass at the hats I hadn't had time yesterday to fully inspect.

"What is this, Miss Franklin?" she asked, shaking our joined arms slightly. I noticed that out in public, it was back to formality.

"It's us, touching more," I said, "Miss Goodenough. Just like you and your sister."

She let out a little surprised puff of laughter and we continued on our way. Apparently the road to Margaret's particular favorite walk was to take us directly through the market, so I made a point of twiddling my fingers at Mr. Cooper as we passed his shop. He was behind the counter with an older man who couldn't be anyone else but his father, counting out a handful of change for a serving girl. He caught my wave, grinned fit to break his face in half, and tried to return it, forgetting of course that he had a hand full of coins. They went flying like a shower of sequins and I laughed, covering my face with my hand and wondering if this was the sort of instance where one needed a fan.

"Who is that?" Margaret asked as she tried to hide her own smile.

"That is Mr. Cooper," I said. "Or, I guess it's Young Master Cooper, if that's his Dad, there. I bought flour from him yesterday. My very first errand."

"You seem pleased with yourself," she said as we walked out of sight of the shop.

"Oh, I am," I said. "Do you know how long I've been cooped up while people did things to me? For me? I actually miss going grocery shopping, if you can believe it."

"You were very independent then?"

"I lived alone, yeah. No servants. Just me."

"That must have been..." Margaret sighed and squeezed my arm.