CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Dashed hopes
Following breakfast the party made their way to church. Instead of taking the main road they took a quicker, more secluded route, walking beneath gigantic gum trees, around blossoming heath shrubs and along an uneven path fringed with tea tree and native mint. During this scenic walk, George had steadfastly remained by Frances’s side, and as he lit a fresh cigarette, he unexpectedly addressed her.
‘Have you heard the latest about Agnes and Michael?’ he asked, making no attempt to lower his voice. ‘They’ve had a falling out.’
Frances looked startled. ‘And how do you know that?’ she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
‘Didn’t you notice the way Michael was spearing his pork pie at breakfast?’ Turning his head to the side, he exhaled a breath of smoke into the air. ‘Not that he ate it, mind you. He didn’t eat a morsel.’
‘And is that the only evidence you have? I’m afraid I don’t consider your logic very sound.’
‘All right then. I’ll lay my cards on the table. I know that they argued, because I was eavesdropping outside the door,’ he smilingly conceded.
‘You didn’t!’
‘I most certainly did. I know this statement wouldn’t stand up in a court of law, but as Michael’s younger and ‘favourite’ brother, I felt it was my prerogative to listen in, shall we say.’
Frances sighed and looked about her. While Agnes and Louisa walked side by side up the now widening track, Doctor Brearly was lagging well behind the rest of the group. From the look of his slumped shoulders and shuffling feet, it wasn’t difficult to tell that his mind was unsettled about something.
‘Well, don’t you want to know what it was about?’ George repeated in a louder voice.
‘No, I most certainly do not!’ Frances said, adjusting her hat. ‘That’s their business, not mine.’
‘It was awfully interesting.’
‘I’m sure that it was, but there’s no point in you provoking me. I am not tempted in the least, and if you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you changed the subject.’
‘Oo, you’re a tough woman, Frances,’ George said, discarding his spent cigarette onto the ground and extinguishing it with his right foot. ‘By the way, I can call you Frances, can’t I?’
‘Only out of my aunt’s earshot.’
‘All right, Frances, you’re so tough that I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley.’
Frances grinned. Despite being awoken abruptly that morning, she was in a relatively good mood. She was on friendly terms with Michael once more, her aunt, buoyed by the festive season, was almost affable and easier to manage, and best of all, she had received a thoughtful Christmas present from her mother, and dare she say it, her soon-to-be step-father.
‘So, Frances,’ George abruptly resumed, ‘I suppose you’re pleased with your present? Why am I asking you? Of course you are. You haven’t stopped smiling since we set off.’
Frances picked off the head of a wildflower and toyed with it while she walked. ‘Let’s just say that getting a manual on bicycle maintenance was preferable to Louisa’s present.’
‘Why, what did she give you? I got some ridiculous looking ornament. Do I look like the sort of person to appreciate ornaments? No. It’s just something else to polish.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Frances laughed. ‘I got a book on rare birds.’
‘Ah, what can I say, Frances? You now have everything a ‘New Woman of the Nineties’ could possibly ever want.’
The smile faltered on Frances’s lips. She was reminded of her situation in life, and realised with dismay that she did not have everything she wanted. The two things she wanted most still eluded her: a complete reconciliation with her mother, and independence from Louisa and Wintersleigh. Both issues were equally as problematic, and while George proceeded to criticise every present he had received that morning, Frances thoughtfully considered both matters. The problems associated with her mother’s impending marriage were too deep and complex to be solved immediately, or by the receipt of generous Christmas presents, but the subject of Frances’s independence could be more easily dealt with. This was, after all, not the first time she had considered Edwina Ballard’s offer of employment. It was something that was never far away from her thoughts, but before she could accept or decline the position, she needed to know more about Edwina. There was no denying that the woman was affluent, apparently respectable, and generally held in high esteem, but what of her family? Of them, she knew nothing, and as for Crispin Ballard, she was equally ignorant.
‘George,’ Frances began, ‘may I ask you a question?’
‘No, I will not marry you, Frances. I’m afraid I’m already accounted for.’
‘Good,’ Frances instinctively replied, ‘you can’t imagine how relieved that makes me feel.’ George burst out laughing. ‘What do you know of Mrs Edwina Ballard and her family?’ she inquired over the top of George’s voice.
‘Edwina?’ he echoed, looking a little more serious. ‘I must admit that I don’t know her very well, but I gather from other folk that she’s a good egg. Why do you ask?’
‘I’m just curious, that’s all. I met her for the first time last week and I liked her very much. She seems very devoted to her family, particularly to her grandson Crispin.’
‘Crispin Ballard?’ cried George with a derisive snort. ‘Humph!’
Frances watched him apprehensively. ‘You know of her grandson?’
‘Of course. I may not be a medical student any more but I still have my finger on the pulse, so to speak. From what I can gather, he is universally despised where ever he goes.’
‘Mrs Ballard told me that he’s a bit of a handful.’
George stooped over to tie up an undone bootlace. ‘No, Frances. He is not a handful. He’s a terror on two legs, and coming from me that says something.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Frances replied, quickly looking away. ‘I didn’t realise. Someone told me that he was unwieldy at times, but after hearing this—’
‘Why are you so interested in the Ballard boy?’ George asked, watching her shrewdly.
‘I’m not,’ she lied, avoiding his gaze. ‘I heard somewhere that he was coming to Hobart to live.’
‘Yes, I heard that too. I also heard that Edwina wants to get him a governess.’ George pulled out another cigarette, and placing it between his parted lips, began fossicking in his pockets for a match. ‘Given that Crispin has been expelled from every school he has ever attended,’ George said in tones subdued by the cigarette in his mouth, ‘only a fool would take a position like that. An absolute fool.’
Frances was now in despair. Edwina Ballard’s offer had seemed like the perfect solution to all her problems, but after talking with George she realised that her chance at freedom was further away than she thought.
Breakfast at Midnight Page 24