Jess smiled ruefully. “Point taken. Ready?” She straightened the collar of her pelisse, though she fought the urge to perform the same service for her sister.
Cynthia hefted the satchel in her arms. “Ready.”
“Here we go.” Jess pushed open the door to Daley’s Emporium. Inside was exactly the same as it had been weeks ago when she’d first visited here, with the same shelves and counters full of high-quality merchandise, the shop itself filled with elegant people.
“Mr. Daley,” she said to the pale man watching the clerks with a sharp eye.
His expression brightened and he came out from behind the counter. “Ah, Miss McGale.”
“This is my sister, Cynthia McGale.”
Cyn curtsied. “Thank you for meeting us, Mr. Daley.”
“I cannot tell you what a relief it is to have you here at last.” The shop owner guided them toward a quiet corner. “The number of customers asking for your soap surpasses all expectations.”
“We’ve three dozen bars of soap in here,” Jess said, patting the satchel Cynthia carried. “There’s a crate holding five dozen more back at the coaching inn, which we can bring if we come to a mutually agreeable arrangement.”
Mr. Daley nodded. “My emporium wants exclusive rights to carry McGale & McGale soap.”
“For how long?” Cynthia asked.
The shop owner blinked, clearly surprised at the question. “I imagine . . . a year to begin with.”
Jess and Cynthia shared a look. “Three months to start,” Jess said.
“Oh.” Mr. Daley blinked again. “Six months.”
“Four,” Cynthia countered.
After a moment, the shop owner inclined his head. “Very good. Four months at the onset.”
“At which point we will renegotiate,” Jess said crisply. “We must be candid, Mr. Daley. The repairs to our operation still need to happen, especially if we’re to meet your customers’ demands. Surely we can revisit your decision regarding the provision of the necessary capital required to fund these repairs.”
“It is quite unusual for the Emporium to enter into such an arrangement,” Mr. Daley said uncertainly.
“Unusual, but possible,” Cynthia said. “Consider what that investment will secure you—exclusive rights to sell McGale & McGale soap, and the possibility to gratify all of your customers’ wishes.” She nodded slowly.
“True, true.” Mr. Daley mirrored Cynthia’s nods. “I think we can supply the means to accomplish those repairs. I employ a bookkeeper—you can send him the estimate.”
Jess had never been so proud of her sister than she was at that moment. Cynthia’s negotiating skills were incomparable, and remorse pinched Jess to think of how much she’d underestimated her siblings.
The rest of the meeting went smoothly, with handshakes securing the partnership and wide smiles from Mr. Daley. When it was at last concluded, Jess and Cynthia emerged from the shop and walked half a block before ducking into an alleyway.
“We did it,” Cynthia said in wonderment. She grabbed hold of Jess’s hands and swung them.
“We did.”
“McGale & McGale, sold on Bond Street!” Cynthia let out a little scream of excitement.
“You were brilliant, my love. Had him agreeing to our terms and nodding along with you.”
“Only following in the path blazed by my big sister.” Cynthia peered at Jess. “Aren’t you happy, Jessie? We’ve just rescued McGale & McGale, and you look positively dejected.”
Jess made herself smile. “I’m happy. I am,” she averred when Cynthia looked like she wanted to argue the point. “Only tired, and there’s much to do, many things to consider.”
Though Cynthia’s brow furrowed with concern, she seemed to know better than to press a point when it was clear that Jess didn’t want to discuss it. “We’ll have to rush back to Honiton to get the wheels turning. There should be space on tomorrow’s mail coach.”
“You can have the rest of the day to explore London. I recommend Catton’s, and Covent Garden Market.” Two places Jess could never go again, not without drowning in bittersweet memories. She threaded her arm through her sister’s and walked toward the street.
Cynthia halted. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
“Before I return to Wiltshire, there are some things here in the city I need to take care of,” Jess said sadly.
“I’ll come with you,” her sister offered.
“I’ve got to go on my own. But don’t worry.” She made herself smile. “I’ll meet you at the coaching inn tonight and we can have supper together.” It would be a rare treat to spend the evening with her sister away from home, but there was no chance Jess would enjoy her meal. She would eat and sleep and go on, of course, but she’d never again feel joy in anything. That was certain.