“You’re sweet to say so. But it’s you who will have your choice of suitors. Already they’re lined up at the fence fighting over you.”

Mercy waved her hand at the remark, wishing she could as easily wave away the men. “Stuff and nonsense.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Mercy.” Miss Lawrence spoke the words without a trace of envy, her eyes radiating sincerity. “It’s easy to see why you’ve caught Lord Colville’s eye.”

Mercy glanced around, hoping none of the other women had heard her. She didn’t want any gossip about her and Joseph getting back to Mr. Scott. Not now after the reverend’s threats.

“’Tis no secret,” Miss Lawrence said, softer this time.

“We’re friends is all.”

“Well, he’s a kind and gracious man. And while the other ladies have attempted to garner his attention, we all know when the Baron of Wiltshire marries someday, he’ll choose a woman of the aristocracy above any from our stations.”

Mercy stared down at the rug that covered the polished wood floor. The words were similar to what Miss Lawrence had spoken on the ship when Mercy tended her. And they reminded her of Mr. Scott’s worries from yesterday—the possibility of scandal if Joseph persisted in pursuing a lowly woman like Mercy to be his wife when he was destined for a much greater woman and partner.

Miss Lawrence reached out and gently patted Mercy’s hand. “Now that we’re here, you’ll have your choice among all the young miners and laborers. In fact, you’ll have the first pick of the best of them.”

Mercy wanted to reassure Miss Lawrence that there wasn’t anything to worry about, that she didn’t have her sights upon Joseph at all. For even if she’d wanted to marry, she’d never consider stirring up trouble where Joseph was concerned.

Before Mercy could form a response, Mrs. Moresby clapped her hands to draw their attention. “Welcome, ladies,” she said to the women squeezed into the parlor, which Mercy guessed to be about half their number from the bride ship. “You will stay here in the Marine Barracks until you’re married or find employment. I’m sorry the accommodations are so basic. But as we didn’t expect your ship to arrive for another month, this is the only suitable place that was available.”

Mercy took stock of the room. The walls were whitewashed and clean of the coal smoke and dirty handprints Mercy had come to expect in her own family dwelling. The few pieces of furniture, like the chair, were simple but prettier than anything Mercy had ever seen. A fireplace against one wall was unlit, with a simple mantel surrounding it. The mirror above it was framed with gold and polished to perfection.