Bertie gave a grunt that could have been interpreted as either irritation or embarrassment and steered them through the melee and on to the quayside. ‘You’ll have to take one of the ferries to the Ormonde,’ he said. ‘She’s over there.’
Lulu looked across the water at the ship that would be their home for the next six weeks. She was quite impressive, with twin funnels and high masts fore and aft, but as she studied her elegant lines, Lulu suffered a sudden attack of doubt. Her decision to leave had hurt so many people, and Clarice had obviously not forgiven her, for there was no sign of her on the quay.
Dolly seemed to sense her thoughts and tucked her hand around her arm. ‘Probably best to say goodbye here,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t know about you, but I hate protracted partings. One always seems to run out of things to say.’
‘I rather think I might come with you,’ piped up Freddy. ‘I’m sure I could get a berth, even at this late stage.’
Dolly was clearly horrified at this suggestion. ‘I’m sorry, Freddy,’ she spluttered, ‘but you simply can’t just drop everything now you’ve been promoted at the bank. We’ll be back before you know it.’
Bertie put a brotherly arm around the dejected Freddy’s shoulders. ‘Freddy knows full well it would be madness to chuck it all in, and he’ll be kept far too busy in the boardroom to be off on a sea cruise.’
Freddy looked to Dolly for guidance, but it was clear he was torn. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’
Dolly gave him a hug. ‘Go and play with your family’s money, dear boy, and don’t worry about either of us. When I get back I expect to find you looking frightfully successful.’
Lulu shook Bertie’s hand as Dolly said a passionate farewell to Freddy.
Bertie’s smile didn’t quite warm his dark eyes. ‘Bon voyage, Lulu. Don’t stay away too long – and remember, I’m expecting great things from you. Don’t disappoint me.’
Lulu and Dolly were helped to clamber down into a ferry which was stacked high with luggage. It wasn’t an easy thing to do in high heels, and Dolly’s hat was almost whipped away by the wind that blasted across the water. Laughing and joking, they found seats and turned to wave at the men on the quayside.
As they waited for the little boat to chug away from the dock, Lulu searched the crowds for the one face she really wanted to see – but of course there was no sign of Clarice, and she had to accept her great-aunt had no intention of wishing her God speed.
*
Clarice had tried to resist coming, but after a restless night had given in to the need. Now she sat in the back of a taxi, watching the two girls as they struggled with their silly shoes to clamber into the ferry. Lorelei looked happy enough, but she noticed how she continually searched the quay as if looking for someone, and wondered if she’d known she would be there to see her safely on her way.
What a coward she was, she thought – how weak not to get out of this taxi and let the girl know she was forgiven – loved – missed already. But there were others to see her off who weren’t afraid to show their affection. She probably wouldn’t be missed.
Clarice stiffened her resolve and smiled as Lorelei laughed at something Dolly said. She looked so beautiful with her lovely hair tossed by the wind, and her blue eyes would be enhanced by the colour of her dress and shining with excitement.
The ropes were unwound from the capstans and coiled neatly on the ferry roof and, the little boat set off for the far shore with a series of defiant hoots from her stubby funnel.
The girls were waving to their friends on the quay, and for a moment Clarice lost sight of them as the men blocked her view. They moved further down the dock and Clarice leant forward, straining to keep Lorelei in view as she was carried towards the SS Ormonde.
All too soon the ferry was lost from sight as it rounded the Ormonde, and she slumped back and closed her eyes. ‘Farewell, my darling girl,’ she whispered. ‘And God speed.’
‘You all right, lady?’
She nodded at the Cockney driver and imperiously waved away his concern. ‘You can take me back to the hotel now,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen enough.’
*
The past months had been most interesting as he’d followed Lulu Pearson around London and back down to Sussex. The newspaper cuttings of her successful exhibition and the inquest of her friend Maurice had been carefully cut out and delivered to the office, along with details of her visit to her aunt’s solicitor and her reservation on the Ormonde. All he had to do now was write his final report and his job was done.
He stood on the quay long after the taxi had borne Clarice away, and watched as the Ormonde weighed anchor, his thoughts troubled. The brief to watch Lulu and send annual reports to a firm of London solicitors had never been fully explained, and until now that hadn’t bothered him. He’d been grateful for the generous fees, had seen no reason to question his instructions and had fulfilled them to the letter. Now he was having doubts.
Things had moved swiftly after that first letter from Tasmania, and his years of experience as a private detective had taught him enough about human nature to know that something was amiss. Someone was manipulating Lulu Pearson – and it worried him that he had no idea who that was, or why they were doing it.
*
Lulu and Dolly had explored their cabin, exclaiming over the pretty bed coverings, the comfortable furniture, the neatly designed storage spaces and the huge bunches of flowers their friends had sent. Now they were bundled in their coats against the stiletto-sharp wind that knifed along the Thames as the sun sank low, sipping the champagne Lulu had ordered from the steward.
The deck was getting crowded as the time for departure drew near, and the excitement was tangible. Lulu leant on the railing as the sailors far below drew up the stairways that ran down the side of the ship, and hauled in ropes. She and Dolly had had to take off their shoes to negotiate those steps, which turned out to be quite a lark, for most of the other women had made the same mistake of wearing high heels. By the time they had reached the deck, they had laddered their stockings but made several friends.
She looked over to the docks and down the river to the open sea and the horizon beyond. ‘Pinch me, Dolly. So I’ll know it’s real.’
Dolly laughed and gently tweaked her cheek.
The blast from the two funnels made them jump, and as the SS Ormonde slowly drew away from her moorings, Lulu raised her glass in silent salute to Clarice with a promise that she would return. Then she turned to Dolly, her smile wide and excited. ‘Here’s to friendship, to a smooth crossing …
‘And Australia,’ Dolly shouted. They clinked glasses and drank the last of the champagne as the Port of London slipped further and further behind them.
Chapter 5
As August gave way to September, Clarice found that the nights were filled with a darkness that seemed to crowd and smother her. The soft groans and creaks of the old family home had always been a comfort, but they no longer brought companionship with their familiar complaints – merely a reminder she was alone but for Vera Cornish slumbering in her attic bedroom.
She lay, wide-eyed and sleepless, listening to the rattle of the water pipes, the whistle of the night air down the chimney and the sighs of the timber. It was as if the house was breathing – as if it too was unable be still. She had never believed in ghosts so was unafraid of the dark and, until now, had always appreciated her own company. Yet, as she waited for dawn’s soft glow to chase the shadows into the corners, she was haunted by memories. They had come every night since Lorelei’s departure. Worrying and persistent, demanding to be relived, they brought old sorrows and shame to torment her.
She closed her eyes and gave into them at last, for Lorelei would soon be landing in Australia, and that was where it had all begun.
Sydney, Australia, December 1886
Clarice had spent the past eleven months trying to avoid Lionel, but in such a small community it had proved almost impossible. His manner towards her h
ad been solicitous and gently teasing, his kindness that of an older brother, but she’d found herself drawn to him like a moth to flame, and she’d been thankful when he’d had to leave Sydney for several weeks on military business.
She prayed nightly for the strength to banish this terrible love she still possessed for her sister’s husband – and steeled herself to remain aloof and coolly polite whenever he was near. As the months passed, it seemed her act was successful, for no one guessed at the turmoil beneath her calm exterior.
Her relationship with her sister had always been tenuous, the five-year age gap and the distance between them over the past years making them strangers. But to Clarice’s delight their reunion had brought a closer understanding that she hoped would blossom into deeper friendship – and it was this bright hope she used as a shield against her wayward emotions.
Government House stood in several acres of formal gardens and overlooked Farm Cove. There was a veranda running along the eastern wall of the house, and an impressive portico had been added to the front. Clarice stood with Eunice in the shade of a tree, taking advantage of the cooling breeze that came in from the sea and channelled its way through the coves and inlets of the enormous harbour. They had come to attend the governor’s birthday celebrations, and although the house was large, it had become stifling with so many people gathered in the reception rooms. ‘I must say,’ she said, as she eyed the impressive building, ‘it is very ornate.’
Eunice glanced at it with disapproval. ‘It’s over-castellated, crenellated and turreted, and utterly pompous. A complete mare’s nest if I ever saw one.’
Clarice smiled and dabbed the perspiration from her face. Eunice had never been afraid to speak her mind, and she had to admit, the house seemed unsure of its style and looked quite incongruous in this exotic setting. But the gardens were magnificent, with banks of brilliant flowers, lush ferns, delicate eucalyptus and soaring pines, and she never tired of visiting them. Even the birds added colour, painted as they were from a rainbow palette, and although the harsh cries of the wading ibis and the voracious gulls jarred on the ears, they couldn’t completely drown the melodic notes of the songbirds.
Clarice blinked into the sun, reminded again of how very far she was from home. She reached for her sister’s hand, thankful they had each other again.
Eunice returned the pressure on her fingers, perhaps understanding her thoughts and silently acknowledging the close bond they were forging.
Clarice eyed her sister, whose dark hair and eyes were enhanced by the lilac tea gown and the purple silk hat that fluttered with ribbons. She looked much younger than her years and as cool, composed and beautiful as always, and Clarice felt a pang of envy for, unlike her sister, she was suffering from the debilitating heat.
Eunice seemed aware of her discomfort. ‘I see you continue to ignore my advice on appropriate clothing,’ she said drily. ‘You’re quite red in the face, Clarry – which is most unbecoming.’
Clarice took a firmer grip of her parasol. ‘It’s the heat that bothers me, not my clothing,’ she muttered defiantly.
Eunice raised an eyebrow. ‘You wouldn’t feel the heat if you didn’t truss yourself up like a chicken,’ she retorted.
‘It isn’t proper to go out in public half-dressed.’ Clarice turned away and pretended to watch a swarm of seagulls squabbling above a fishing boat tacking across the harbour. It seemed she couldn’t please anyone, and she was too hot and uncomfortable to have yet another argument about her attire.
‘In that case, every woman in Australia is improperly dressed,’ Eunice said crossly, ‘but at least they aren’t red in the face and fighting to survive heatstroke.’ She seemed to relent and her expression softened. ‘I always saw you as strong-minded and sensible, Clarry. Why do you let Algernon bully you so?’
‘He doesn’t bully me.’
‘He tells you what to wear, who to talk to and what parties and receptions to attend,’ Eunice reminded her, ‘and I suspect he even takes charge of the books and newspapers you read.’ She reached for Clarice’s hand to show her words were kindly meant. ‘I know Algernon can’t be easy to live with – he’s too like Papa – but you must stand up for yourself, Clarice.’
Clarice felt the awful shame of knowing how weak she must appear and how easily she’d yielded to Algernon’s rules regardless of the distress and discomfort they caused her. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said softly, dipping her chin so the hat brim shadowed her face.
‘I think I do.’ Eunice’s brown eyes regarded her with compassion. ‘You feel you have let him down by not giving him children – which is ridiculous. His first wife didn’t give him any either, so it’s probably his fault, not yours.’
Clarice could feel the blush rise at such intimate talk and was about to protest when Eunice rushed on.
‘He’s a man set in his old-fashioned ways and is finding it hard to come to terms with how we do things here. I think he feels insecure – a fish out of water, if you like – and although he maintains his air of authority in public, he is certain only of his control over his household and you. It’s why he refuses to listen to advice and continues to force you to his will.’
Clarice stared at her sister, aware of the insight and common sense she had dared voice. The same thoughts had run through her own mind many a time, so why had she not heeded them before today? ‘You’re right,’ she admitted, ‘but it will not be easy to go against his wishes. I must find the right moment.’
‘Don’t leave it too long, Clarry, or this heat will kill you.’ Eunice glanced at the approaching Algernon and snapped open her parasol. ‘We will continue this discussion another time,’ she said grimly.
Clarice pasted on a welcoming smile for her husband, but the fear of defying him was already making her heart thud.
*
It was three days after that conversation, and Clarice had dismissed her maid, not wanting her to see the agony of indecision she was going through as she stood in her bedroom and tried to gather her courage. She had taken all morning to prepare for this luncheon, and the bedroom was littered with clothes, shoes and hats.
Yet the pale blue muslin skirt felt so light with only a single petticoat beneath it, and although the matching jacket was lined and close-fitting, it hid only a thin chemise and was soft and cool against her skin. She moved about the room, revelling in the freedom of being able to breathe without the corset, and the way the muslin whispered against her bare legs. It was daring and exciting to be so liberated – but at the same time she felt naked and vulnerable.
Her glance fell on the petticoats she’d slung over a chair, to the abandoned stockings and corsets she’d left on the floor. Could she really do this? Did she have the courage to face Algernon and defy him so publicly?
‘I have to,’ she breathed. ‘The heat is worse than ever, and I shall die if I don’t.’ She squared her shoulders and confronted the pier glass she’d been avoiding all morning.
Her blue eyes looked back at her with a trepidation that turned to amazement as she took in her reflection and realised she looked the same as always, despite having discarded two-thirds of her wardrobe.
Her fair hair was swept back from her face and pinned into a knot of curls on top of her head, the little straw hat placed at a jaunty angle to shield her from the sun. The neat, high-necked jacket emphasised her narrow waist just as it had when she’d worn a corset beneath it, and the bias-cut skirt still moulded to her hips before gathering at the back in a tumble of frills to reveal the lacy hem of her single petticoat. She giggled in delight. Eunice was right. She felt so cool and free – and not even Algernon could guess why.
She dabbed perfume on her wrists and neck with almost reckless abandon, and fixed the pearl studs in her ears before gathering up the frilled parasol with a flourish of bravado. Taking a deep breath, she opened the bedroom door and stepped purposefully into the passage. The distant sounds of the servants in the kitchen drifted up to her, but thankfully there was no sign
of her husband. Clarice hurried down the stairs, out of the front door and down the steps to the cinder path that edged the lawn.
Mindful of her posture, and with her heart thudding, she opened the parasol and began to walk towards the arbour where they would have luncheon. The gardeners were raking the newly cut lawn, and one of the maids had emerged from the kitchen to pick herbs to garnish the fish. This would be the first test, and she steeled herself against their stares and sniggers, poised to race back to the house and dress properly.
The gardeners touched their hats in acknowledgement and, with barely a glance, carried on raking the lawn. The housemaid dipped a curtsy before continuing to cut the parsley. Clarice realised she’d been holding her breath, and as she reached the arbour, she sank gratefully into a cane chair and tried to relax. The real test was yet to come.
Eunice arrived moments later in a whisper of muslin and lace. ‘You look a picture sitting there among the flowers,’ she said as they embraced. She gave Clarice’s waist a squeeze. ‘And so free at last,’ she murmured, with an approving smile.
Clarice drew back in alarm. ‘You can tell?’
‘Don’t worry, Clarry,’ she replied hastily. ‘Only an embrace would give you away – and as we are not attending a ball you’re quite safe.’
Clarice giggled. ‘Oh, Eunice, you are a caution.’ She took her hand. ‘Thanks for coming early. You must have known how much I needed my big sister at my side today.’
‘You can thank Gwendoline for our early arrival,’ she replied drily. ‘She’s been pestering her father all morning because she wanted to visit your stables, and was in a positive fury because I was taking so long to get ready. I understand Algy’s bought a new horse?’
Clarice’s pulse jumped. She hadn’t realised Lionel was back from Melbourne. Hastily gathering her wits, she nodded. ‘He assures me it is of the highest breeding, and Mr Reilly seems certain it will do well at the races, but at sixteen hands and only partly broken, Sabre will be too wild for Gwendoline to ride.’
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