said, giving him an uncertain smile. ‘You have been…kind.’
He nodded to her, but made no further comment. Georgie saw the housekeeper was looking at her expectantly and she went to her dutifully, following her from the room and up the stairs.
‘We always keep a couple of rooms ready in case the captain decides to invite a guest to stay, though he doesn’t trouble us much,’ Mrs Jensen told her as she looked back, making certain Georgie was just behind her. ‘I often say to Jensen that things hardly changed when the old gentleman died.’
‘Was that Mr Frederick Hernshaw?’
‘Sir Frederick,’ Mrs Jensen corrected. ‘He was a gentleman of learning, quiet and scholarly. He sometimes had a few of the dons to dinner—university men like himself—but never ladies. There has not been a lady in this house for as long as I can remember…’ A speculative expression came to her eyes. ‘That brings me to you, young sir—if it isn’t rude of me to ask. Who are you and how did you come to meet the captain?’
Georgie took a deep breath, then smiled. ‘It is a long story, Mrs Jenkins. Captain Hernshaw doesn’t know it all yet, but if you promise to keep it to yourself I shall tell you a part of my secret.’ She swept off her disreputable cap, letting her long dark hair cascade over her shoulders. Her melting brown eyes met the housekeeper’s astonished look bravely. ‘I shall not deceive you, Mrs Jensen. I am not as I presently appear,’ she said, and then tucked her hair back under her cap.
‘Well, bless my soul,’ Dora Jensen said. ‘You’re a lady, miss! I thought there was something odd as soon as I laid eyes on you. You looked like a girl, but in your present dress it seemed unlikely—if you don’t mind my being blunt. It isn’t quite proper for a young lady to be in an unmarried gentleman’s house.’
‘No, you are quite right,’ Georgie said. ‘But when I tell you that I was near to starving when he found me, you may find it in your heart to look kindly on me.’
‘Never fear that I shan’t,’ Mrs Jensen said in a gentle tone. ‘I know a lady when I see one and something tells me you are in terrible trouble.’
‘Yes, I am,’ Georgie replied and her bottom lip trembled. ‘I am in such a mess—and I’m frightened, that’s why I came here to the house of a stranger. He gave me food and promised to help me, but he doesn’t yet know the real story, though he does know I am a girl.’
‘You never told him lies, miss!’
‘Yes, well, I couldn’t tell him the truth, not at first,’ Georgie said, warming to her new friend. ‘But I am in terrible danger. And I can’t tell you any more, because…well, I just can’t!’
‘Well, I never,’ Dora said and shook her head. ‘That is a shocking thing, miss—if you are telling me the truth?’
Georgie crossed her fingers behind her back. It was nearer to the truth than she had confessed to Captain Hernshaw, but still not the whole story. But she was afraid that if he knew the real story her protector might refuse to believe her and pack her off back to her family—and that was something she was determined to fight at all costs.
‘I wouldn’t lie to you, Mrs Jensen. I just can’t tell anyone the whole story.’
‘I hope you wouldn’t,’ the housekeeper said, her eyes going over her. ‘I am not sure what we ought to do with you, miss, and that is the truth. There are no young girls in this household and my clothes would fall off you.’
‘Oh, I don’t want to dress like a girl,’ Georgie said hastily. ‘I couldn’t stay here if people knew it was me—and I might be recognised if I went out in a girl’s clothing. I have been into fashionable society, you see. I should have no reputation left if people knew I was here in this house. Can’t you find me something suitable to wear—a youth’s clothes, perhaps?’
‘Well, I don’t know, miss.’ Dora looked doubtful. ‘This is a house of menservants for the most part, because it was always a bachelor’s home; there are no boys—but the captain might have something.’
‘You could always wash my things.’ Georgie looked down at herself doubtfully.
‘That I will not,’ Dora said decisively. ‘Those things are for the rag bag if I have my way. You can wear one of the master’s bathrobes. I’ll ask Henderson to find you something—he’s the captain’s valet and he served him when they were both in the army.’
‘Oh…’ Georgie hesitated. ‘Yes, I see…well, it will have to do for the moment. But you do see it is better if people think I’m a boy, don’t you?’
‘Yes, miss,’ Dora said, though she was still doubtful. ‘Well, here’s your room, miss—or perhaps I should call you master?’
‘Call me Georgie. It is my name and it could be for a boy or a girl, couldn’t it?’
‘You’re a rare one,’ Dora said and shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to make of you, and that is the truth, but the master put you in my care, and I’ll do the best I can by you. Now, this is your room, and I’ll send Henderson up with the bathtub. I’ll bring the hot water myself. Make yourself comfortable, Master Georgie, and I’ll be back soon.’
Georgie thanked her and went inside the room. It was a bedchamber of handsome proportions, though once again it was furnished in heavy dull furniture, the curtains and bedclothes in sombre shades. Very masculine and not at all what she had been used to all her life, but much better than the streets.
She sat down on a stool near the window and looked out as the door closed behind Mrs Jensen. At least she was safe here for the time being. No one would think of looking for her in this house. It had given her a shock to see him when she left the inn with Captain Hernshaw and she had been glad of her new friend’s protection. She closed her eyes for a moment, because she was feeling sick and frightened. To be so near to that man! It had made her feel very nervous, though it was unlikely he would have recognised her dressed in her filthy clothes. Yet the fear that he would had been very strong, because she would rather die than be taken back to her home and forced into a life that she knew would be unbearable.
She had run from her aunt and uncle, and they were in collusion with another person to rob her of what was rightfully hers. Not by murdering her, but by marrying her to a man she hated.
She would never marry him! Never, never, never! She would much rather be dead than his wife. For a moment the tears were very close, but she held them back. The worst of her ordeal was over now. She was no longer hungry or cold and could put the memory of her time on the streets behind her. She must think hard about what she was going to do next, because her situation was still precarious.
Her head came up as she heard a knock on the door and she called out that whoever it was might enter. A man of about three and thirty came in carrying a large metal tub, which he placed down in front of the fireplace. He then knelt down, striking a tinder and putting the flame to the dry kindling, which caught with the help of a little work with the bellows.
Georgie wandered over to watch him. He glanced up at her and she saw the fearful scar on his cheek. Instead of flinching, she felt an immediate sympathy for him and smiled, hoping that he would see his disfigurement did not cause her revulsion.
‘Thank you, that is very kind of you, sir.’
‘Call me Henderson,’ he told her,
