Her Rags-to-Riches Christmas

by Laura Martin

  The sun was only just coming up over the horizon, but already she was glad to find it brought a little warmth with it. Standing, she took a moment to shake off the stiffness she’d acquired during the night, then crossed to where her horse was tethered.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said quietly. ‘I think it is time for us to find our way home.’

  Home. That was how she thought of Mountain View Farm. She might not have resided there long, but it was the only place she’d felt truly comfortable since she’d left her parents’ house in Yorkshire. She knew, no matter how badly she’d damaged the trust between her and George, she would always have a home there. He was too good a man to turn her away. More than once he’d assured her she would be safe at the farm until she had served out the remainder of her sentence, Alice knew that would never change. What would change was how George would look at her. Gone would be the love and desire, replaced by that coldness she had seen the day before.

  Using the tree to help her, she mounted her horse, picking a direction and hoping it would lead her back home to safety. Perhaps she could explain things to George. Even as the thought popped into her head she saw the betrayal that had filled his eyes when she’d revealed the secret she’d been keeping from him. Still, she had to try.

  * * *

  After riding for thirty minutes she reached a road. It was nothing more than a dirt track, the ground pitted and dusty, but it was a road all the same. It would lead somewhere. Whatever direction she chose, all roads led to and from somewhere. Turning her horse, she chose a direction and set off at a sedate pace, keeping alert for any signs of the group of guards she had spotted the night before. Once again it was a hot day; even in these early hours of the morning the sun’s heat was intense.

  She’d only travelled a few hundred feet when she paused, pulling on the reins to stop her horse. Alice couldn’t be entirely sure, but she thought she saw movement somewhere in front of her, around the bend in the road. There was a haze to the air, the suggestion of a cloud of dust and underneath it something large moving.

  Feeling panic seize her, Alice looked around for somewhere to hide. She felt vulnerable, out here alone and knew that she was in a precarious position. Cursing, she spun to look behind her—there was no shelter in any direction, no copse of trees or even low bushes to hide behind. It looked as though she would have to face whoever was coming towards her.

  Her heart began hammering in her chest. She knew there was a chance it would be someone friendly, a farmer or landowner, even a ex-convict travelling through the countryside looking for work. Equally it could be a band of convict workers, seconded from Sydney to work on the land or building roads into the interior. Or it could be the guards from the night before, perhaps sent to search for runaway convict workers.

  One head rounded the corner, followed by another and another. The first man was dressed in the bright red of the all-too-familiar guards’ uniform, sitting on the back of a sturdy horse. The men that straggled after him were in much poorer garb, some of which you would struggle to call anything more than rags. There were about twenty men in total and bringing up the rear were two more guards also on horseback.

  ‘Halt,’ the first guard called as he caught sight of Alice.

  The convicts looked up, their eyes weary and unable to summon any interest in what was going on around them.

  ‘Good morning,’ Alice said, trying her best to mask the fear that was creeping over her body.

  ‘Good morning, miss,’ the guard said. He looked her up and down, then smiled politely. ‘It’s early for you to be abroad, unescorted as well.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Alice said, telling herself if she could just maintain an air of superiority they couldn’t touch her. They weren’t to know she was a runaway. They weren’t to know she was a convict at all. Her dress was too fine to raise suspicion, even if she had slept in it the night before. ‘It is a vexation, but I am hoping to reach my cousin’s farm by midday. It will make the early start worthwhile.’

  ‘Do you live nearby, miss?’ the guard asked. She didn’t know if it was something about her that was causing him to question her, or if he was just a naturally inquisitive man.

  ‘I’m heading to Mountain View Farm,’ she said. ‘Please don’t let me hold you up. It looks as though you have your hands full.’

  The guard inclined his head and Alice slowly let out the breath she had been holding as his horse took a step past her.

  ‘Mountain View Farm?’ he asked, pausing and frowning in a quizzical way. ‘That must be two miles in that direction.’ The guard pointed down the road in the direction she had been coming from.

  Alice cursed silently, the words she’d picked up during her time on the transport ship only able to express a fraction of her fear and frustration.

  Slowly she looked back over her shoulder and nodded. ‘I’m sorry, it must be the early start. I’m coming from Mountain View Farm,’ she corrected herself.

  ‘And where are you heading, miss?’ the guard asked, his tone less polite than it had been previously.

  Desperately Alice tried to trawl through her brain for the name of the Crawfords’ house. She knew the Robertsons lived much closer to George, but the Crawfords were a little further away. If only she could remember the name of their property.

  ‘My cousin is Mr Crawford. I am going to stay with him and his wife. She’s expecting a child and they will need an extra pair of hands for the birth.’ Alice hoped this extra detail would be enough to convince the guard in front of her that she was on legitimate business.

  ‘Mr Crawford,’ the guard said thoughtfully. ‘I know of him. These men labour near his farm. I think you must have got turned around, Miss...?’

  ‘White,’ Alice said, taking the name of the maid that had helped look after her and her sisters when they were small.

  ‘Why don’t you accompany us, Miss White, we can see you safely to your cousin’s house?’

  ‘That’s very kind,’ Alice said, unsure whether to feel relieved that she would soon be on familiar ground or uneasy that this guard was taking too much of an interest in her. It was clear he didn’t trust her, but hopefully when he saw the Crawfords knew her then he would walk away and think no more about her.

  They rode in silence, Alice feeling more and more like a prisoner as every minute passed. She tried to stop herself from taking sidelong looks at the guard beside her, tried to imagine how Francesca or Georgina would be if they were in her position, but even the idea was laughable. They never would be in this position.

  * * *

  ‘Have I seen you somewhere before, Miss White?’ the guard asked after half an hour of riding.

  ‘I think that is unlikely,’ Alice said, trying not to engage in further conversation. The guard must have seen her reluctance as he fell silent again.

  Every minute that passed Alice felt the tension wind tighter inside her. She glanced at the guard, wondering if this was all a ruse, wondering if any moment they would round a bend and she would see the familiar buildings of Sydney come into view and strong hands would seize her, condemn her for being a runaway.

  She shuddered, remembering the ripping of the flesh on her back as the whip made contact again and again, knowing that if she was found to be a runaway she would be tied to that post once more and this time George wouldn’t be there to save her.

  * * *

  The sun was high in the sky when the group of men were called to halt and Alice felt her hands tighten on the reins. She wouldn’t be taken without a fight—at the first sign of anything amiss she would urge her horse on and hope to lose herself in the wilderness.

  The men groaned and grumbled as they slumped to the floor. They must have been walking for nearly two hours, with no stops for water even though their clothes were soaked with sweat. Alice knew as a female convict she’d been spared the worst of the hard labour and, seeing some of the desolate faces
of the convicts behind her, she felt thankful for that.

  ‘Ten minutes,’ one for the guards at the back called. ‘Then we start again.’

  ‘Shall we, Miss White?’ the guard asked, motioning for her to ride on with him. Alice looked back uneasily, but knew she had no choice. ‘It is only a few more minutes.’

  The countryside was still unfamiliar with no landmarks she recognised, but sure enough in less than five minutes a pretty farmhouse came into view. Alice felt a surge of relief, tempered only by the guard’s impassive face riding close by. She just hoped that Francesca or Mr Crawford was at home—the servants would quickly deny any knowledge of her.

  Alice dismounted outside the farmhouse, her heart hammering in her chest as the guard slipped from the back of his horse as well. Slowly she walked over to the door and knocked. Inside she could hear footsteps, then the door swung open and revealed a cheerful, round-faced woman with wisps of wild hair sticking out from her head.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said, looking Alice up and down with a smile.

  ‘I’m here for Mrs Crawford,’ Alice said, feeling the guard take a step behind her.

  A second passed and then another, drawing out for an eternity as Alice held her breath.

  ‘I’ll go see if the mistress if available,’ the woman said, her eyes flitting over the guard behind Alice.

  ‘Not expected, then,’ he murmured as the woman stepped away from the door.

  A minute passed, and then another. With every passing moment Alice felt the guard behind her edge ever closer. She knew he could sense her fear, knew he was beyond suspicious, and part of her wanted to flee like a cornered animal.

  There was a murmured conversation from inside the house, but still no one appeared and Alice heard a low, stifled sob pass her lips. She’d come so close, only to be wrenched away now.

  Her whole body stiffened as the guard placed a firm had on her arm.

  ‘I think...’ he said.

  ‘Alice,’ Francesca shouted as she came running through the hall. Francesca threw her arms around Alice, drawing her into an embrace that brought tears to her eyes in its sincerity and warmth. After a moment she stepped away, her eyes travelling to the guard standing a few feet away. ‘Is there a problem?’ she asked, Alice loving her in that moment for the note of aristocracy she put into her voice.

  ‘No problem, miss,’ the guard said, executing a little bow and flushing slightly, his hand slipping smoothly from Alice’s arm. ‘Miss White was a little turned around in the countryside and I wished to escort her safely to her destination.’

  Francesca’s face broke into a smile and she called back into the house, talking quietly to the round-faced woman who must be her housekeeper. The housekeeper disappeared for a few seconds, then came back and handed something to her mistress.

  ‘Thank you,’ Francesca said, holding out a couple of coins to the guard, ‘for being such a kind citizen and ensuring my dear Alice came to no harm.’

  The guard took the coins, gave Alice one last puzzled look, then nodded and walked away.

  Alice watched him as he remounted his horse, waiting until she was sure he had left the property before letting out the breath she’d been holding for far too long.

  ‘Alice, we’ve been so concerned,’ Francesca said as she took Alice’s arm and led her into the house. ‘Ben’s been out since dawn helping Mr Fitzgerald look for you. He tells me Mr Fitzgerald was the most worried he’d ever seen him.’

  ‘I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble,’ Alice said. She hadn’t imagined Mr Crawford would have gone out to search for her, and probably Mr Robertson, too.

  ‘Nonsense, I’m just happy you’re safe. I barely slept last night with worry about you out there all on your own.’ Francesca paused, giving Alice a sidelong look as if deciding whether to say any more. ‘What happened?’ she asked as they entered a comfortable sitting room, the doors flung open against the heat.

  Alice sank down into an armchair, luxuriating in the comfort and closing her eyes for a second before answering.

  ‘I’ve ruined everything,’ she said, feeling the weight of despair she’d been holding back the past few hours come crashing over her.

  ‘Oh, Alice, I’m sure that’s not true.’

  Alice thought of George’s face, the look of betrayal, how he’d walked away after she’d told him her secret.

  ‘It is,’ she said. ‘I kept something from George...Mr Fitzgerald. Something I should have told him long ago.’ She shook her head, the tears welling in her eyes again.

  ‘He will forgive you,’ Francesca said with a conviction Alice wished she could believe.

  ‘I don’t think he can. It was a terrible secret. And he trusted me with his confidences.’

  ‘He will forgive you,’ Francesca repeated. ‘Whatever it is, he cares too much for you to let this come between you.’

  Alice was silent for a few minutes, wondering if there was a chance. George was a good man, an understanding man. Perhaps given time he might be able to appreciate why she had kept her secret from him.

  ‘I’m married,’ she said quietly.

  Francesca’s eyes widened and she blinked a few times in quick succession as she took in Alice’s statement.

  ‘At least I was married. I might still be. My husband...’ she shuddered at the word ‘...was sentenced to hang, but he escaped from prison before the sentence could be carried out.’ It felt wrong to bring her troubles to such a lovely, wholesome household, it made Alice feel dirty and tarnished, but after so long of carrying her secrets alone she felt compelled to spill them and Francesca was so kind and understanding she knew the other woman would not judge her too harshly.

  ‘Oh, Alice,’ Francesca said, moving closer and taking her hand, squeezing in solidarity.

  ‘He was a bad man, a cruel husband,’ Alice said, closing her eyes to try to rid herself of the image of Bill, his lips curled in contempt for her. ‘In the end I hated him, but I should never have kept him secret from George.’

  ‘I can see why he would be shocked, but if you explain...’

  ‘I’m not sure I deserve the chance to explain.’ She felt utterly exhausted, emotionally even more than physically, but she knew she had to carry on. She had to find George and at least tell him the whole truth. She owed him that much.

  ‘Of course you do. Everyone makes mistakes. It wasn’t malicious, just a misjudgement. And Mr Fitzgerald will see that.’

  ‘He asked me to marry him,’ Alice said softly. ‘It was everything I’ve ever wanted. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, but I couldn’t say yes.’

  Francesca fell silent, her grip on Alice’s hand never weakening and sympathy in her eyes.

  ‘I should send word to Mr Fitzgerald that you’re here, safe. I think he’s been going out of his mind with worry.’

  Alice nodded. She both longed to see him, to tell him it was him she loved, and dreaded seeing the mistrust on his face. Mistrust where there had once only been warmth.

  As Francesca stood Alice leaned back into the chair, allowing her eyes to close. She wouldn’t sleep, no matter how exhausted her mind and body, but she could rest a little.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  George stood outside the Crawfords’ elegant farmhouse and took a moment to compose himself. He’d ridden hard when he’d received the message that Alice was at the Crawfords’ house, imagining she’d had to endure all kinds of terrible hardships the night she’d spent out in the wilderness.

  Now he was here he was torn between wanting to rush to Alice’s side, to check she was unharmed, and a creeping caution, a need to protect himself from further heartache.

  ‘She’s in the sitting room,’ Francesca said as she stepped outside. ‘I’ll give you some privacy.’

  George nodded his appreciation, not sure he trusted his voice not to crack, then with a deep breath s
tepped inside.

  For a few seconds after he stepped into the room he was able to observe Alice before she noticed his presence. She looked exhausted, with her head tilted back and resting against the fabric of the armchair and her eyes closed. He knew she wasn’t asleep by the drumming of her fingers on the arm of the chair, a nervous movement that made him want to reach out and place his hand over hers.

  ‘Alice,’ he said quietly.

  Her eyes sprang open and she sat upright in the chair, a worried expression flitting across her face. She made to rise, but George motioned for her to stay sitting, taking the chair next to her and pulling it so they were almost facing one another. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms across his chest, putting a physical barrier between them.

  ‘I’ve been worried,’ he said, trying not to blurt out every thought and concern he’d had in the past twenty-four hours since she’d gone missing.

  ‘I’m sorry. That was never my intention.’

  ‘What happened to you? Where did you go?’ He heard the coldness in his voice, saw the hope flare and then die in her eyes as she saw the blankness of the expression on his face. He needed to protect himself and this distance was the only way he knew how to.

  She shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. When I rode off I was in quite a state, I didn’t look at what direction I was headed. Then by the time I had calmed down I was utterly lost. In the end I just chose a direction, hoping it would take me home or at least to somewhere I recognised.’

  ‘And last night? Did you spend it outside?’ He knew they were avoiding what they really needed to talk about, but George wanted another couple of minutes before broaching the subject, time for all his thoughts to settle into some semblance of order.

  Alice nodded, shuddering slightly. ‘It was cold and uncomfortable, but it was only one night.’

  They fell silent, both knowing they needed to have a very difficult conversation.