Page 10 of Beauty and the Baker
“Thank you. I’ll read this in a bit. I think I’m going to lie down for a bit more.”
“Would you like a cup of tea? I can have Mama make you a pot and bring it up. I know that always makes you feel better.”
Georgina slid the letter in her pocket. “That would be very nice.”
“And how about a piece of cake?”
“But I didn’t eat dinner.”
Thomas leaned in really close. “I won’t tell.”
Georgina laughed and hugged him close once more. She knew if she didn’t, he might see her start to cry.
Chapter 3
Georgina jumped at the sound of the compartment door sliding open. She had enough money to pay for a semi-private compartment for the ride out West, but not enough to pay for a private compartment.
The three passengers she was sharing the compartment with had reached their destination and now she was alone as the train pulled out of St. Louis.
Georgina waited a minute for someone to appear before turning back to look out the window. The door slid closed again, blocking the noise from the general train passengers.
A petite woman in a dusty, outdated mourning gown placed a basket on the bench across from Georgina. Her large hoop skirt swept across Georgina’s legs and took up most of the compartment.
“Oh, I am sorry,” she said in a British accent. “I keep forgetting how small these train cars actually are.” She gave Georgina a toothy grin before sitting down on the hard bench. “How you are doing, dearie?”
Georgina looked at the woman. She was dressed from head to toe in black silk. She had a hooded cape covering the dress. Georgina was surprised the woman wasn’t flushed from wearing all those layers. In fact, she looked downright pale, her ivory skin a sharp contrast against the dark fabric.
The woman pushed back her hooded cape revealing soft gray ringlets surrounding her face. Her eyes were the palest color of blue Georgina had thought she had ever seen.
Georgina lost all her thoughts in that moment, and for the life of her couldn’t remember the question the elderly woman asked. The woman in black gave a soft laugh.
“Don’t worry, love, it happens to the best of us. I just asked how you were doing, Georgina.”
“F-f-fine. I’m doing fine.” Georgina panicked a moment. How did this woman know her name? She looked around but didn’t see anything that the woman might have seen.
“Your name is there on the envelope,” the woman said, pointing to the paper in Georgina’s hand.
“Oh,” Georgina said, turning the envelope around. “I didn’t realize it was there.”
“Not to worry, love. It looks like a letter from someone very special.”
“It is.” Georgina said, folding the papers back up and placing them in her pocket.
“Looks like you’ve read them quite a bit, too.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, the edges look worn.” The woman leaned back and sighed, placing her hands over her middle. “I remember when my Edward would write me letters. I would keep them and read them over and over again. Pretty soon there was barely any ink left on the papers, I had read them so many times.”
“Edward is?”
The woman sat up. “Oh, Edward is my husband. But he’s dead,” she added as an afterthought.
Georgina sat back. She had never met anyone so flighty. It was as if the woman moved from one thought to the next without slowing down.
A dark man popped his head in the car. Georgina recognized him as the porter for this particular car.
“Is there anything you mighta be needin’, miss?” he asked Georgina.
