Page 36 of To Winter at Wildsyde

Mr Briggs adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze and staring instead at the papers on his desk.

“I knew his father, and the son is as honourable as his sire. He is a man of means and well educated, one and thirty years of age and in good health though he suffers from bouts of melancholy. I believe he is considered to be handsome, and you ought to find no fault with either his person or his manners.”

Jemima returned a sceptical glance. “Why on earth should such a man resort to an arrangement of this nature?”

She waited as Mr Briggs cleared his throat again and sat up a bit straighter. “A bad war,” he said, his expression darkening. “He is not at ease in company, in fact it would not be a great exaggeration to say he is something of a hermit.”

Jemima digested this information. “Would it not be easier for him to engage the services of….” She swallowed, wondering why the word stuck in her throat. There were enough euphemisms to draw upon, surely, any one of which could be levelled at her soon enough.

“My client is a discerning man, Miss Fernside, as I believe I have mentioned. Despite the apparently… despite this arrangement being somewhat….”

It was Mr Brigg’s turn to hesitate, his complexion flushing darkly. Jemima noticed a spot on his cheek where he’d missed a few white whiskers whilst shaving; they stood out in sharp relief against the flare of embarrassment.

“Sordid?” Jemima suggested as a pertinent adjective.

He flushed a darker shade and rubbed a weary hand over his face. “Please believe me, Miss Fernside, when I tell you I find this whole affair most distasteful. I should never have even considered voicing the possibility of such an arrangement if your own circumstances were not so very desperate. In all honesty, I feel it only fair to tell you that my client… my friend… is also facing life with something close to desperation. He is a good man, Miss Fernside, but I fear for his future if he does not find something resembling friendship, companionship. I know what his requirements are, and that they focus on the… the physical nature of this arrangement, but I also know this man. He will treat you well and fairly, kindly even, and I would hope… I cannot help but think….”

Jemima sat up, gazing at him, alert to the real concern behind his words, and his obvious distress at the situation he found himself in. “Mr Briggs, are you hoping for some manner of romantic resolution to this outrageous arrangement?”

Mr Briggs felt about his person, searching for a large white handkerchief, which he scrubbed over his face before putting it away. When he met her eyes again, his expression had an uncertain quality, wary of her reaction.

“He’s a good man,” he repeated, almost defiantly. “Not an entirely easy one, not since the war, but not one who deserves to be left alone to… to wallow in solitude and waste his life.” He took a breath, warming to his theme. “And you, Miss Fernside. You do not deserve the hand fate has dealt you. You have faced every trial set before you with dignity and such strength of character, I… I cannot feel that you can help this man recover what the war took from him, and that he in turn can help you out of your current difficulties.”

He certainly sounded sincere, which was something. Of course, it could be nothing more than an act. For all she knew, Briggs and Norton was a front for the procurement of young women in desperate straits. She scolded herself for being so melodramatic. Briggs had been her uncle’s solicitor for years and she knew the firm to be respected. No. This was a dilemma that Briggs had wrestled with, as his distaste and mortification made obvious.

“He might not like me,” she said, putting up her chin.

“I think that unlikely.” Mr Briggs gave her a faint smile. “If I were a younger man Miss Fernside, I should have a very different and most honourable solution to this particular dilemma, but, in the circumstances, I don’t think my wife would approve.”

Jemima stared at him in astonishment, speechless.

“I meant no disrespect,” he said in a rush, looking appalled.

“None taken, I’m sure,” Jemima replied.

She felt she had passed the point of embarrassment, gone far beyond the ability to be shocked by anything now. No doubt life would prove her wrong in short order, but the sense of unreality persisted, and she was more than thankful for it.

“A meeting will be arranged between you, somewhere discreet, naturally. That way you may spend a little time together and see if you suit. If not, you will be paid the sum of ten pounds for your time and inconvenience. There is an advance here to allow you to make whatever preparations you deem fit.”

Mr Briggs slid a purse over the desk towards her and Jemima stared at it, knowing how Eve must have felt when that blasted snake offered her an apple.

“And if the man approves?” she asked, not taking her eyes from the purse.

It was heavy with coins, with more money than she’d seen for a dreadfully long time.

“Then this will be the agreement between you.”

Mr Brigg slid the papers across the desk. “It is much as we discussed. Your benefactor will provide you with a comfortable property, conveniently situated. All your bills will be met, up to and including the amounts stated in the agreement, plus a monthly allowance for pin money. If, after a period of five years, you decide to part ways, you will receive a lump sum on which you may comfortably live for the remainder of your life.”

“And if I wish to leave before the five years?”

“That would depend on the circumstances and be negotiable via myself, but rest assured you would not be treated unfairly. I will see to it myself; you have my word.”

Jemima nodded. “You’ve been very kind, Mr Briggs.”

The solicitor gave a disgusted snort. “I’m not the least bit certain of that. Indeed, I have never felt more the devil, I assure you. However, I am certain that this man will never harm you, and I am inclined to believe he will protect you, if you allow him to.”

“Then that is a great deal more than I have experienced of men to date, Mr Briggs, and I do consider it a kindness. There were many who would have refused to work when they knew the money had run out. I owe you a great deal.”