Mrs. Jeffries and the Best Laid Plans (33 page)

She’d been abandoned before.

She watched the cab until it went around the corner. Betsy moved away from the window and went over to her bed. Dropping to her knees, she reached underneath and pulled out her carpet bag. She blew the light coating of dust off the frame and put it on her bed.

Then she began to pack.

Betsy stood under the tree in the communal gardens where she and Smythe had spent so many hours together. The others thought she was still upstairs, nursing her wounds. She’d slipped out when she’d heard them go downstairs for their supper. She turned and looked at the house; her packed carpetbag was at her feet.

She could see the lights from the kitchen, and she knew that they’d all be upset when they found her gone tomorrow morning, but that couldn’t be helped. A strangled cry arose in her throat, but she pushed it back, determined to stay strong. She had to go. But Lord, it was so hard. She loved them all so much. They’d become her family.

“He’ll die when he gets back and finds you gone,” Mrs. Jeffries said softly.

Betsy whirled around as the housekeeper stepped out from behind a row of bushes. “I didn’t see you come out.”

“I came through the gate,” she replied. “Don’t leave, Betsy. If you go, you’ll break all our hearts.”

Betsy burst into tears. She hung her head and sobbed. Mrs. Jeffries hurried over and pulled her into her arms. “I know you’ve had a terrible shock, but he loves you more than life itself. You have to stay and wait for him to come back.”

“But he’s not coming back,” Betsy cried. “I know it. He doesn’t really want to marry me.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Mrs. Jeffries kicked at Betsy’s carpetbag. “Of course he does. That man would die for you.”

“But he left me.”

“Only because he had to repay a debt of honor.” Mrs. Jeffries looked her directly in the eye. “If he’d refused to go and help save an innocent man, you know you’d think less of him. If you’re going to marry Smythe, Betsy, then you’ve got to trust him.” She gave her shoulders a squeeze, turned, and started for the house.

After a moment, Betsy picked up her bag and followed Mrs. Jeffries back inside.

 

Smythe stared at the lights of Tilbury as the SS
Oroya
pulled away from the dock. He was on the first-class deck, but he could care less about the luxurious furnishings in his quarters. All he could think of was Betsy, of her face as she’d realized he had to go. Blast and damn, this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. But he had to go. He’d no choice.

He prayed that Betsy would still be waiting for him when he got back. When he’d boarded, he’d asked one of the seamen how long it would take to get to Sydney. The answer had depressed him. Nine weeks, nine ruddy weeks! If you added a month or two for him to find Tommy Merchant and settle whatever mess he’d gotten into, and then another two months back to England, blast, it would be almost Christmas before he got back.

But Betsy would be there. She had to be. He couldn’t lose her now.