The Landowner's Secret

by Sonya Heaney

  ‘I think I’m not feeling very well.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

  He was up in an instant, sitting back on his haunches. Was she paler than usual? The light was too poor to tell. When he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead she made a sound of frustration and batted it away.

  ‘It’s not that bad,’ she said.

  He left the bed and dug around until he’d produced his shirt and her gown, and then—to a chorus of grumbles from his wife—dressed them both before pulling the blankets up around her.

  ‘I’d not have said a thing if I’d known you’d fuss like this,’ she said while he stoked up the fire.

  He replaced the poker with a clatter and returned to her, worried, but also glad she’d enough energy left in her to argue the point.

  ‘Here,’ he said, bringing the blankets all the way to her chin.

  She didn’t much like that; he could see it in her eyes. ‘Get in the bed, Robert. It’s not catchin’.’

  He did so carefully, and then turned on his side to face her and kissed her forehead.

  ‘What do you need?’

  ‘Nothin’. Absolutely nothin’. Let’s just sleep, all right?’

  She turned her head away, her fair hair a tangle across the pillow. He’d have combed his fingers through it, but if she was ill she needed rest more than she needed grooming. After a long while, he knew she slept.

  Robert took longer about it. And when he finally did drift off it was with a realisation at the back of his mind.

  In those final moments before she’d closed her eyes, Alice had seemed more angry than ill.

  No, he thought as his body was pulled under. She wasn’t angry, she was resigned.

  Chapter 16

  Alice brooded over her discovery more than she wanted to. Oh, it wasn’t all the time, as there was usually someone else around, and there were plenty of other things to do. But it hovered there on her mind.

  She hadn’t the right to be annoyed with anyone about it. A person couldn’t change their past. And back when Robert Farrer had been pining for Miss Wright, the chances of a Farrer marrying a Ryan were much the same as Alice’s were of marrying Prince Leopold.

  Only … she suspected she had a right to be annoyed about those letters, seeing as he still kept the bloody things.

  ‘Alice?’ Elizabeth said, possibly not for the first time in the past few moments.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Feeling rude, she put aside the petticoat she was mending—gardening and her new garments didn’t always go well together—and forced herself to focus.

  ‘I said that I am expecting another visit from Martha Wright soon. The weather has improved, so she might ride out with her father this week.’

  ‘Oh. That’s nice.’

  It was going to have to be nice, because it was something that’d be happening a lot. In recent days Alice had figured out that Elizabeth and Miss Wright weren’t just friends, but were close friends and had been for a very long time. It explained a lot about everything, about Robert …

  And privately Alice worried Elizabeth resented her for taking Martha’s place, for ruining the natural order of things. Not that her sister-in-law ever showed it, she was too nice for that.

  ‘She’ll be going away for a week or so after that, and thought to stop by on the way. To Goulburn,’ Elizabeth added when Alice had nothing to say about it.

  She nodded, because it was polite to do so. It was something, at least, that she’d get a week or so’s reprieve from the world’s most beautiful woman. A week or so where Robert wouldn’t have a chance to spot her in town, or in church, or in his own drawing room. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  She went back to her petticoat, tutting at how jagged the tear was; it’d come about through a combination of an enormous thorn and Alice moving with too much speed when Hutton paid her an impromptu visit.

  She couldn’t marry the Prince anyway, she remembered suddenly. He’d carked it last year, and he’d had a wife at the time.

  And while she stitched in a neat line she silently chastised herself for being too curious for her own good. Sometimes life was easier for the ignorant.

  ***

  Miss Wright returned on a Tuesday.

  She visited alone this time, as Mr Wright took off to Heaven only knew where once he’d deposited his daughter at the door. It was all Alice could learn of it from her position, hidden behind an overgrown wattle bush to the side of the house.

  It was no different a day to any other. The morning started off with frosty air, and then it turned sunny and warm enough to sit outdoors. At least, Alice preferred the outdoors, but her husband’s first fiancée was a proper, pale, delicate sort, and she watched the woman disappear into the safety of indoors and never return.

  It was a mean thought, but one that struck Alice before she could call it back.

  When the barouche appeared Alice had been lost in her work, happy enough with her day. It’d taken an extra moment for her to notice the sound of approaching horses, her focus was so much on the garden. Rising from where she crouched, she tugged off her work gloves in a hurry.

  When she peeked over the budding yellow flowers and saw who’d come, she’d panicked. As she buried her face in her hands and groaned, one of those words she’d tried to keep to herself since her wedding escaped her mouth. Sometimes there just wasn’t a politer way to say it.

  It wasn’t an unexpected visit. She’d been prewarned by Elizabeth. However, the reality of sitting through another one of those teas was a little different. More uncomfortable silences. More worrying about crumbs on her clothes. More wondering what comparisons Robert was making when he looked at the two of them sitting there, side by side.

  And so, when faced with the reality of it, Alice did exactly what the lady of the house shouldn’t ever have done: she hiked up her skirts, put a hand on top of her workaday straw bonnet and dashed off in the direction of the trees.

  So much, her conscience told her as she hopped over a rock, dry grass catching in her stockings, for her newfound maturity.

  She used the best of her energy to get past the house, only giving in to exhaustion when her breath came in painful gasps, when she was sure there was enough land between herself and the drawing room windows that nobody inside would pay her much notice.

  She passed her old cow, who watched her with mildly interested eyes, jaw working as she chewed, and—idiotically—paused briefly to wave at her, and then she was off again.

  What she hadn’t realised until she picked up the pace again, was that she’d been followed.

  ‘Oh, Hutton,’ she said in dismay at the sound of an excited bark. She stumbled to a stop and readjusted the ribbons of her hat, and turned to order him home—not that she thought the dog would follow her directions.

  Only, she saw double.

  Two dogs had been taken up with the excitement and run after her. Hutton was one, and the other … oh, she knew the other.

  ‘Go back, Lysander,’ she told the fellow, but he merely watched her with interest. Or maybe he was waiting for her to do something else stupid.

  She pointed. ‘Back that way. Back to Martha.’

  He looked at her hand, and then back at her face.

  ‘Please?’ she tried.

  Of all her bloody luck, she couldn’t even find a stick to throw to distract them as she completed her escape. Weren’t these heelers bred as working dogs? How’d Robert manage them? Desperate, she tried a rock—a pebble, actually. The two creatures merely watched it fly over their heads before turning their attention back to her

  Of all the things she didn’t need to happen right then ...

  ‘If you get lost, Lysander, we’re all going to be in so much trouble.’

  The dog appeared disinterested in the warning. In fact, he seemed quite pleased with himself.

  Alice hiked up her skirts again. She’d be damned if she worried about being ladylike for dogs.

&nb
sp; ‘I’m movin’ on now. If you follow me, you’d better be quiet about it.’

  Alice walked; the heelers continued. Twice more she tried stopping and sending them back. Twice more they sat obediently and listened to her tirade, and then walked on when she did.

  She checked back every now and then, watching the undulating land gradually swallow up the house until she could only see its chimneys. Soon she’d hit a bend in the river, and she thought she might sit there a while. How long did these social visits ladies made last?

  If Elizabeth and Miss Wright were old friends, they probably both fancied a chat without her anyway, she reasoned. Many things couldn’t be said otherwise. Even so, she’d need a good excuse for when she got back. If only her mind weren’t blank right then.

  Hutton, nose to the ground, moved a few steps ahead of her, all but disappearing a time or two in the long grass.

  ‘Watch for snakes,’ she warned him, not that he listened to a thing she said. ‘And spiders.’

  Onwards they walked. Up ahead Alice made out the silhouette of a single rider along the road, passing the property and disappearing and reappearing through the trees. Of course, once the dogs also saw him they took it as an invitation to run faster, up ahead to investigate.

  ‘Oh, lovely,’ she muttered as she dashed after them, panting a little with the stress of too much activity and a strong new corset. ‘Now I’m going to lose her bloody dog for certain.’

  It became a choice of running or complaining, so she shut up then and lifted her skirts higher still, trying for speed as a pair of wagging tails disappeared into the trees by the river up ahead.

  Alice dived in after them. She broke through the mess of the bush much more suddenly than she expected, and might’ve fallen down the incline if she’d not put on her brakes so fast.

  ‘There you are,’ she said when she caught up to the sounds of scratching and scrambling in the undergrowth, puffing under the added weight of her dress, and pressing a hand to the stitch in her side.

  Hutton and Lysander regarded her for all of a second before they were off again, obviously thinking it was part of the game.

  ‘Good Lord,’ she muttered.

  But already she could see the glint of water through the trees, and a few more steps on she heard the rush of the river. It was full for once thanks to all the recent rain, and running at a good speed.

  She could hear the yips and barks but not see their owners. She took a couple more steps.

  And before she was ready for it, the ground gave way to the riverbank in a hurry.

  Alice’s feet slipped out from under her, and she was pretty sure she said something else unladylike on her way down.

  ***

  As soon as she’d recovered from the shock, Alice concluded that while the trouble she’d landed herself in this time might not be dire, it was still trouble.

  Yes, it was true she’d slipped partway down the riverbank and now perched on a pile of wet leaves. It was also true that a wrong move would topple her into the water; but she wasn’t planning on making a wrong move.

  She’d twisted her ankle a bit, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Half a day and she’d be walking just fine again, if not running. She’d already done enough running to last the rest of Eighteen-Eighty-Five.

  On the other hand, she was a small person and so fitted quite nicely on the little ledge. The sun was out and it was not that cold sitting where she was. She might stay there until dinnertime and not be too sorry about it.

  This was a fixable situation, but humiliating should she be discovered.

  She shifted gingerly, not because of the pain, though there was that, but because she wasn’t yet confident the ledge she’d slipped down onto was as sound as it ought to be. A tumble into the Murrumbidgee seemed unlikely, however she didn’t know if she could make it back up.

  The little dog noises that’d been punctuating the afternoon changed. Naturally, neither one of them had considered rescuing her. Once Hutton and then Lysander had come to the path above to get a good look at her, they’d lost interest and moved on to other things. Now though, the yapping became full barking, and the scratchy sounds of the silly beasts investigating their surroundings became almost deafening.

  All the signs pointed to a new arrival, and she didn’t want whomever—or whatever—it was that was about to find her seeing her flipped on her arse in the dirt.

  Filled with new determination, and with a big heave of newfound energy, she gripped the ends of a weeping willow, launched up from her perch, nearly fell straight into the water, swung precariously for a moment, and then righted herself enough to scramble back up the way she’d come.

  She landed on all fours on the dirt path, and then pushed herself to her feet, favouring one over the other as she headed back towards the trees.

  The barking grew more excited still, and she rushed to put herself to rights, dusting and straightening in anticipation of a visitor. She brushed some leaves off her bum and hoped there wasn’t as much dirt on the back of her as she suspected. She twisted, trying her best to see but failed quite miserably.

  It was the deep chuckle that alerted her to the fact she was no longer alone.

  Automatically frightened, she spun too fast, stumbling badly enough to twist her ankle all over again and nearly fall to the ground.

  Letting out a cry of surprise, she grasped the nearest thing, which happened to be a rather prickly shrub. If only she’d not abandoned those gloves.

  It was John Stanford who finally rescued her from her own incompetence, steadying her with a casual grip on her arm, and it was John Stanford’s chuckle she’d heard that’d startled her in the first place. No wonder Hutton and Lysander were excited; everyone and their dog liked the man. Not even Alice was immune.

  A few steps behind him was his magnificent horse. He had to be the rider she’d seen.

  ‘Mrs Farrer,’ he said formally once she was more or less upright. He completed the greeting with a doff of his hat. ‘You’re a long way out.’

  ‘Mr Stanford.’ It was still strange to hear herself called Mrs anyone, let alone Farrer. ‘I am out with the dogs, as you see.’

  His eyes flicked to them, and—too late—she realised the second dog was a complete giveaway. Mr Stanford struck her as a smart chap. He’d know whose dog it was, why it was so far out of town, and why Alice was tramping about in the trees instead of taking tea with her guest.

  The only thing he didn’t know was that she knew. He’d been keeping Robert’s past betrothal a secret, just as everyone else had been. She didn’t doubt for a moment he’d known about it, and now she was terrified he’d feel sorry for her.

  ‘Still,’ Mr Stanford said in a deceptively casual tone, ‘the exercising of dogs does not explain why you are this far away from the house.’

  ‘I got lost?’ she tried, making him snort in a way more like her brother than her husband.

  ‘On a near-straight road you’ve lived along—what—all of your life? With at least one animal who’d be able to lead you straight home if you requested it? Somehow I doubt that’s the truth, but you may have your secrets if you must.’

  ‘Hutton would take me home if I asked?’ She eyed the dog dubiously. ‘I’ll try that next time. The other one sure wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘You’ve a bit of dirt on you,’ he observed casually, still smiling a little, but not—she didn’t think—judging.

  ‘Tends to happen when you take a tumble down the slope. Bloody stupid bush,’ she added, wishing swearing didn’t come to her so naturally.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said after a moment’s consideration, looking her up and down. Inspecting her. ‘You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?’

  ‘’Course not.’

  She was beginning to feel as foolish as she deserved to after running off like that, and her husband’s closest friend was frowning.

  ‘Yes, I think you’ve injured something.’

  He looked pointedly to where she gripped t
he awful plant, and then more pointedly at her boots, hidden as they were beneath her skirts. She was standing crookedly.

  ‘It’s nothin’. I’ll have you know I’m not as clumsy as I seem to be every time we meet.’

  But then she ruined her show of bravery by easing down onto the uneven stump of a fallen tree. It was a relief to be off her feet.

  ‘Indeed,’ he said after a pause, like he was weighing up whether or not to call her out on her lie, ‘but we seem to be meeting in the bush rather more often than is normal. It’s not safe out here, Mrs Farrer.’

  His eyes flicked briefly behind her, around her.

  ‘Not at the moment at any rate.’

  ‘What d’you mean it’s not safe?’ Had they not caught the men involved in the murder? Was Ian already back?

  ‘Mr Stanford? What do you know?’

  He regarded her for a bit, and Alice felt more and more ridiculous the longer he looked. Clearly he didn’t want to upset her with scary stories, but if there was danger around, she thought she needed the fright.

  He also looked like a man who didn’t want to upset her delicate sensibilities. Alice sighed. She’d interrogate Robert later, see if she could break him to talk. She doubted it’d work.

  ‘You could help me, I suppose,’ she said grumpily and extended her hand to him.

  ‘Of course.’

  He helped her to her feet with a lot more strength than she expected, murmuring a smiling apology when they nearly collided, and pointing to a spot on her skirts where she’d collected some twigs during her escapade.

  The dogs, apparently deciding to behave now someone more important had turned up, circled the two of them with interest and stuck snouts into the debris of leaves and sticks on the ground. John glanced at them.

  ‘So … the dogs escaped, did they?’

  ‘As you can see.’ Alice quietly tested her ankle by adding a little more weight. She’d survive.

  She watched him study the bush again, his eyes focusing briefly on a place in the distance, one of the fields half visible from their place in the trees.

  The bush seemed still if not quiet; there were always too many birds for that. King parrots flashed bright red and green in amongst the dull colours of the trees. Nothing seemed amiss now.