Chapter Twenty-One
The moment Jack stepped off the boat her legs gave way completely. Mrs
Kendall caught her by the elbow before she fell to the ground. She steadied
her with an "Oops! Careful now!" Jack righted herself, stiffening her knees
up, and smiling gratefully at the woman. Mrs Kendall smiled back. "Nine
weeks, and you still never gained your sea legs." Her accent was warm,
friendly southern England. It reminded Jack of home. "I'm no credit to the English, am I?" laughed Jack. "We'd never have the
reputation we do if they'd set me off to sea." Olivia Kendall laughed. "Ah, you did well enough. Are you feeling all
right?" She put a hand to Jack's forehead. "She looks a sight better than she has the past two months," said a voice. Jack and Olivia turned to see Magnus striding toward them, the other
passengers swarming off the ship around him. He was carrying as much luggage
as he could manage, which, despite his tall, lanky frame, was considerable.
Mr Kendall was just behind him. They stopped when they reached the two
women. Magnus grinned. "The old fellow's managing all right, isn't he?" He
gestured in the direction of his father, a man who looked not a day over
forty. Mr Kendall set the luggage down at their feet and tugged a lock of Magnus's
hair. "Not bad for an old fellow, eh, lad?" he bellowed sarcastically at his
son. "Nathan, pipe down, for heaven's sake," Olivia said. "And Magnus, don't
encourage your father. We were discussing Jill's health before you two
interrupted," she finished briskly. "Not quite so peaked anymore, is she?" Nathan studied Jack's face and
complexion. "She's got most of her color back already." "I don't understand," said Jack, "I didn't have this problem when I sailed
the first time." "Something certainly didn't agree with you," Olivia said. "You were green
morning, noon, and night. And it didn't help that you hardly ate anything
during the journey." Jack was apologetic. "I know. I'm sorry. I should have eaten. But nothing
tasted good, Mrs Kendall. I just couldn't find the appetite to eat a
thing." Olivia clucked. She was six years younger than her husband, and so
beautiful she looked as if she belonged in a painting -- and yet she could
sound as prim and matronly as any grandmother Jack had ever met. "Nonsense.
The food was actually quite good, especially considering we were at sea." "Livvy, stop pestering her," Nathan broke in. "Can't you see the poor
girl's dead on her feet?" "I feel better, but not by much," admitted Jack. "I do feel a desperate
longing to get down on my knees and kiss the ground, though." They laughed. "You're either a true Englishwoman at heart, or you're just
sick to death of sailing," Nathan said. "A bit of both," she answered, which made them laugh again. "And dying to
go home." Magnus beckoned for a carriage and the four of them climbed inside while
the footmen loaded their baggage. Jack sat beside Magnus in the small cab,
with his mother and father across from them. There was barely room to
breathe, let alone move, and Jack found herself crushed rather closely to
the young man beside her. He was a few years older than Jimmy, taller and
rangier, with pale blue eyes where Jimmy's were warm green, and he smelled
of cologne and shampoo instead of fresh air and leather -- but if she closed
her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could pretend it was Jimmy next
to her instead of Magnus. It was the only thing that had made the past nine
weeks bearable: pretending Jimmy was nearby. For the first fortnight of the journey, Jack had merely stayed alone in her
cabin, staring out to sea, playing with a deck of cards or reading a book.
Mostly she had thought of Jimmy. It was then that she began pretending. She
pretended that as she sat there by herself in the room, Jimmy was about to
join her at any moment; at dinner she pretended Jimmy had been detained by a
mail run and that she would be by her side the next night at mealtime; at
night, as she lay in bed, she pretended that Jimmy was asleep next to her.
She knew if she kept it up, she'd go mad before they reached England, but
she couldn't seem to stop, she was so lonely for him. And then she had met
the Kendalls. Actually, she had met Magnus first: standing at least a head taller than
the other men, with brown hair nearly as dark as her own and blue eyes that
would have reminded her of ice if they hadn't been so warm and friendly. He
had fine, clear features and a thin-lipped mouth full of humor. He had been
seated next to her at dinner one evening, and quickly engaged her in
conversation. Within minutes they found numerous things in common: books,
background, music. By the end of that week, she had confided in Magnus the
details of her life in America. He was genuinely admiring at her tales of
the Pony Express. "What I wouldn't give to write your life story," he told
her. The remainder of the journey was spent in the Kendalls' company. Olivia and
Nathan had been given sparse details of Jack's life, and knew only that she
had been staying in America with friends and was going back home to her
parents. Magnus loved his parents, but also knew their shortcomings: they
would have been deeply disapproving of Jack's lifestyle, despite the fact
that it had been necessary for survival. Any girl who had left her parents,
dressed as a boy, taken a man's job, and lived among men for the past few
years would be frowned upon by the well-meaning couple. All they knew was
that she was a dear, sweet girl, and they took her under their wing. Jack was equally forthcoming with Magnus about her friends in the Express,
and described them all in lively detail till he felt he knew them as well as
she did. The only part of her life she kept from him was Jimmy, and she
guarded that secret closely to her heart, not out of fear, but out of love.
Jimmy was her secret, her memory to comfort her during the lonely
stretches of time that lay ahead. She didn't want to share him with anyone. Now, jostling alongside Magnus through the streets of Marchby, Jack felt
the comforting pressure of his hand on her arm. Of late she had begun to
suspect his feelings were perhaps growing to more than friendship. She tried
to dismiss the thought as irrational, but could never quite shake it. She
wasn't merely flattering herself: the look in his eyes was unmistakable. She
often thought of her conversation with Lou, because Magnus was so like the
man she'd always imagined falling in love with it was uncanny. A year ago if
you had stood James Hickok and Magnus Kendall side by side in front of her
and asked her which would she'd fancy marrying, she would have chosen Magnus
without hesitation. Jimmy was intelligent and kind and handsome, but Magnus
was the picture perfect ideal she had always envisioned. Now, she thought wryly, even if you stood Mag and Jimmy side by side, she
would see only Jimmy. She had heard the saying about opposites attracting,
but it wasn't that she and Jimmy were opposites; in fact, they were quite
similar -- reserved, thoughtful, cautious, laughing and crying at the same
things. She sighed wistfully, but luckily could not be heard over the
clatter of the horses' hooves against the road and the noises of the seaside
town. Home at last, and Jack couldn't stop thinking about all that she'd left
behind. Or the nausea that pitted her stomach, she realized a moment later.
She felt as if she were still at sea, the boat rocking to and fro beneath
her feet. "You look pale again, dear." Mrs Kendall leaned forward to pat Jack's hand.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Jack took a deep breath and the waves in her stomach subsided. "It seems to
come and go, Mrs Kendall. I'm all right now." "You'll soon be right as rain," Mr Kendall assured her. "Just give yourself
time to settle back in." Jack smiled weakly and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the
wall of the carriage. This was a strange feeling compared to her days in the
Express, when she had been riding the horses that were now pulling them
through the streets. The ride to her parents' new home in Haventhal was long, but Mr and Mrs
Kendall insisted that they make the trip that same day. They were eager to
reunite Jack with her mother and father. By nightfall Jack, tiring easily of
late, fell asleep against Magnus's shoulder, her head resting by his neck.
Magnus swelled with warm affection, looking down at the beautiful,
incredible creature next to him, wondering humbly if he could ever make her
care for him the way he had begun to care for her. She didn't say so, but he
sensed that she was holding back feelings that she possibly shared. She was
shy, and he adored her for it. And he intended, now that they were back in
England, to court her properly, to reveal his feelings as any proper man
should. They reached Haventhal later that evening. Mr and Mrs Kendall watched the
young pair with doting eyes. As the carriage arrived in front of the
Townsend's new home, Jack was jostled awake. She gazed upon the lovely,
two-story brownstone in the streetlight and drew her breath in. Mr Kendall
helped her out of the carriage and stood at a respectful distance. Jack
thanked him, making her way to the front door. She could hear noises within,
and through the window opened to the cool night breeze, she heard the sound
she had never dared hope to hear again: her mother's light, silvery laughter
mixed with her the hearty sound of her father's loud chuckle. Jack raised a hand to the door and pounded the silver handle against the
door three times, waiting. She pressed her hands to her stomach, gently
touching her belly, smiling a secret smile to herself. She was home. |