She had the overwhelming urge to lower her gaze and duck her head, to murmur her apology. But out of the corner of her eye she caught her reflection again. She was worthy of respect. She needn’t cower in fear any longer.

With her chin held high, she looked Mr. Scott directly in the eyes. “I’ll find a job here in Victoria, sir. And if someday I get a hankering to get married, I may do so. But for now, I’ll make a way on my own right well, you’ll see.”

The words were the bravest she’d ever spoken to a person of authority. For a moment she half expected the reverend to cross the room, slap her face, and then force her to kneel and kiss his shoes.

Instead, Mr. Scott simply shook his head. “If you’re aspiring to gentility, I assure you, you’ll only be met with extreme regret.”

She didn’t know what aspiring to gentility meant but guessed it had something to do with Joseph.

“And I assure you that you’ll also wish you’d done as I recommended, especially once you’re back in England in debtors’ prison. For not only will you owe the esteemed Columbia Mission Society the fees accumulated from the passage to Vancouver Island but also the fees for your return voyage.”

“I’m staying, sir,” Mercy insisted, glad her voice was steadier and stronger than her insides. “I’ll save up my earnings and send them back to the mission just as soon as I can.”

Mr. Scott’s face became flushed, and his nostrils flared. “No, you will not—!”

A knock sounded against the doorframe, and they both startled at the sight of Joseph entering the room. Following close on his heels was Mrs. Moresby, bustling in amidst a flurry and swishing of her heavy skirts. She’d changed the hat and gown she’d worn to church earlier and was now attired in a vibrant blue velvet, glistening jewels, and a wide hat bedecked with matching velvet flowers and equally stunning jewels.

Every time Mercy saw Mrs. Moresby’s opulent display of wealth, it was difficult to picture her as a much younger woman dressed in a simple skirt and apron, rushing about and doing the bidding of her master.

“Good evening, Miss Wilkins. Mr. Scott,” Joseph said, taking off his hat and bowing slightly to them both. He was immaculately attired just as he had been at the church service that morning with his black dress coat, matching waistcoat, and pinstriped trousers. His dark brown eyes connected with hers for only an instant, but it was enough for her to glimpse the turmoil churning there.

From the heaviness of their breathing, Mercy guessed the two had hurried to arrive at the Marine Barracks just now. How much had they heard of her conversation with Mr. Scott?