The Landowner's Secret

by Sonya Heaney

  ‘I see Lysander is leading Hutton astray with his poor town manners. I could’ve sworn I saw a rather splashy barouche heading out this way earlier, which would explain his presence.’

  He smiled as he said it, as though they were in on a secret together.

  Hesitantly, she replied. ‘I didn’t even know what a barouche was until Mr Wright started visitin’. I s’ppose I’m meant to be impressed.’

  ‘Oh, you certainly are.’ He tucked her arm through his. ‘You’re sure you’re all right? I could put you on the horse.’

  ‘I’m not much of a rider. It’s better I walk.’

  He had to notice her uneven gait, but ignored it for the time being, slowing down a bit and lowering his voice to a conspiring whisper.

  ‘That fancy vehicle of Wright’s is from Shanks and Co in London, he’ll have you know.’

  They’d reached his horse and he smiled a tad as he untethered the creature and took the reins in one hand. Mr Stanford made a noise halfway between a whistle and a click, and the two dogs fell into line.

  He then offered her the crook of his arm again, and they set off.

  ‘I’ve never heard of Shanks and Co,’ she admitted when she began to feel some comfort with her companion.

  He chuckled, blue eyes sparkling when they met hers.

  ‘To be honest, nor have I. I’m certain it’s a very grand production company, though.’ He chuckled again. ‘Or perhaps not, and he’s banking on us never discovering the truth.’

  Alice was grateful for his help when he hefted her up and over a log.

  She looked up at him again, this man who was her husband’s friend. She wandered what he thought of her, especially when there was Miss Wright to compare her to. It made her worried, because she wanted him to like her, and to accept her.

  ‘You truly don’t think we’re safe out here?’

  ‘I do not know,’ he said softly, thoughtfully, when she thought maybe he wouldn’t answer at all. ‘However, I’d rather be safe than sorry, especially with Robert Farrer’s wife with me.’

  ‘I’m not so sure Robert Farrer’d mind.’

  Immediately, she wished she’d not said it. She sounded petty and childish.

  ‘You might be surprised.’

  They were back on Endmoor land now, and there was the house up ahead. Alice forced herself to keep on limping forwards as the traitorous dogs bounded on, happy to be headed home, as though they hadn’t just done their best to be away.

  She would’ve happily taken the rest of the afternoon to complete the walk back, but the man with her had to have somewhere else to be. And it was high time she started being more sensible about things.

  ‘I don’t know what Wright’s about, dragging his daughter out here nonstop,’ Mr Stanford said almost to himself, as if he’d read her mind. He patted her hand where it rested on his forearm. ‘You may have to learn to ignore the man. You’re going to be seeing rather a lot of him, and his favourite activity seems to be making others uncomfortable. I suspect you’ll rise to the occasion.’

  Maybe one day she would, Alice thought. Only not today.

  Smoke spiralled from a chimney of the homestead; from the angle they approached it seemed an even more important building than it did from the road. Despite her newfound resolve to be sensible, Alice felt her stomach flutter as they continued their approach, reaching the edge of the scrubby mess of the bush and stepping back into the styled English gardens of the homestead.

  She twisted to look up at Mr Stanford and he raised his eyebrows in query.

  ‘What would you have done today if you were me? When you saw the barouche arrive, I mean.’

  ‘Firstly, I’d not have married Robert in the first place, and not be in your situation.’

  Alice scoffed, and his expression softened.

  ‘If you’ll keep it a secret between the two of us, I’ll confess: I’d have run, too.’

  ‘I know about Robert and Miss Wright. Only, Robert doesn’t know I know.’ She’d had to tell someone. Anyone.

  There was a significant pause, long enough she thought he hadn’t heard her right. Alice didn’t think she had the courage to blurt it out again.

  ‘Do you not think,’ he began after some consideration, ‘that if there was a long lasting attachment between your husband and Miss Wright they’d be married now?’

  Alice shrugged. She wasn’t in any mood to be reasonable. Hurt was too close to the surface of what she’d felt for days now.

  Mr Stanford was intent on explaining, however. ‘Your husband is usually right about things, unfortunately, though I’ll never admit it to him. Take our new business venture, for example. There I was, ready to have a go at making syrah, but he insisted on riesling, was correct in his choice, and now here we are.’

  ‘Oh don’t you worry. As things’re now, I’ve no intention of tellin’ him he’s ever right either.’

  Her husband’s friend laughed at that, and then turned serious again.

  ‘Giving her that heeler mightn’t have been the wisest thing Robert’s done, considering how things ended,’ he said. ‘However, I wouldn’t call the ownership of a dog a sign of everlasting love, Mrs Farrer.’

  He was suddenly arrested by the dog in question up ahead. Lysander had taken a particular interest in one of the trees, and Mr Stanford tried his best to change direction, to direct Alice’s attention away from the situation right when the fellow lifted his leg. Even Alice knew there was no polite way to describe the dog’s behaviour, and it surprised a giggle out of her.

  ‘Don’t know much about dogs. I’m good with chickens and cows. He gave me a cat,’ she whispered when Lysander was done. ‘I named her Gertrude—no, don’t laugh, I know the name’s odd. She’s a bit cranky sometimes, but she’ll do for me. I only wish she hadn’t been given in guilt.’

  He said nothing to that, but she felt his friendship radiating from him. It was a comfort. They continued on in silence until they were near to the house. Alice’s ankle ached, but she said nothing about it.

  Of all people, it was Mrs Adamson who appeared from the house then, hands on her hips while she took in the new arrivals. Whatever conclusion she came to Alice had no idea, but with a nod she left them to it, disappearing back through the door.

  ‘Do you have a dog, Mr Stanford?’

  ‘I do. Unlike Robert’s, mine is a large barbarian with powerful muscles, as is befitting a man such as myself. I’ve no need to herd sheep, you see, unlike certain friends I associate with. And so I chose a dog to reflect my personality and position.’

  Delivered with so much snobbery and such a ridiculous tone, Alice laughed at him. She glanced up at his answering chuckle.

  ‘You are not a snob, I think.’

  ‘You think that?’ He sounded wounded. ‘I’ll have to work harder on it then. Square your shoulders now and how about we go in to confront the intruders.’

  ***

  Robert was out in the old cottage with Mr Stanford when Alice finally worked up the courage to make her second confession of the day.

  Miss Wright was long gone. Alice had only had to sit through some ten or fifteen minutes of her company before her father came to collect her. Alice wished she could find a reason to despise the lady. She wished she weren’t a nice person, as she—unfortunately—seemed to be.

  Now, she looked up from her blasted Latin book.

  ‘Elizabeth?’

  ‘Yes?’ Her sister-in-law was sketching something, and Alice belatedly thought she shouldn’t interrupt her. Oh well, it was too late now, and Elizabeth was waiting.

  ‘If you got your heart broken, would you keep letters from that person?’

  Oh, Lord, Alice thought. There was no backing out now, because it was clear Elizabeth understood immediately.

  ‘Oh no. You mean my brother kept them?!’

  ‘Keep your voice down!’ Alice whispered urgently. Panicked, she rose and half-limped to the door, pressing it firmly shut, knowing too well how much sound echoed aro
und the house. Just in case, she pressed her back against it, palms flat against the wood, as if it would keep snoops out.

  ‘I didn’t go lookin’ for them or anythin’. I was in the library and they toppled out. Of course, I shouldn’t’ve opened any of them, but I couldn’t help me—myself. I just couldn’t.’

  Elizabeth sighed, shook her head, and looked sad. ‘If I’d known about those letters, Alice, I would have said something about the past straight away. As for Martha …’

  ‘You don’t need to say anythin’. What happened, happened.’

  ‘Yes, but still … I was waiting for Robert to, but I think I should have said something earlier …’

  ‘You can’t give up your friend. I mean you shouldn’t.’

  ‘That’s very generous of you. However—’

  ‘Elizabeth, I’m feelin’ generous this afternoon. Let’s just leave it at that.’

  Chapter 17

  August turned into September without any fanfare. Spring had been coming on gradually for a fortnight or so, and the wattle was already out in full, bringing bright patches of colour to the landscape, dotting the valley with brilliant yellow.

  Alice knew—had been told when anxiety had driven her to ask time and again—that the magistrate had requested extra assistance from further north just in case her worst fears came to be, that it was because Robert himself had delivered the warning about the outlaws that the town was taking the threat seriously.

  She also knew, though Robert wasn’t aware she did, that the assistance was still to arrive. The possibility of bushrangers in the region meant no other settlement was willing to offer them help when they were concerned with protecting themselves.

  She’d heard more than once that the railway brought wonders and chased away criminals. It was a little harder to chase down a locomotive than it was a man on foot or horseback. If it was true, then Alice wished the workers would hurry up and finish laying the tracks, but the whole thing was still years off.

  She stopped in the hallway to straighten a painting—one of Elizabeth’s—and to pluck a few dead leaves off the arrangement in the vase beneath it. They crumbled in her hand and she carefully dusted the remnants into a little pile on the side table. Later, she’d clean it up properly, but right then she’d something else on her mind. Fiddling with her wedding ring, she tried to calm the rapid beating of her heart.

  She was in need of a little bit of courage right then, because she could hear shuffling papers and knew her husband had reached that point in his day where he was winding down. He’d be clearing his desk now, and be off in search of his meal soon.

  Alice needed to get into that room before he left it; and before she turned into a chicken again.

  Using the tip of one finger to tap the painting just a smidgen more to the left, she decided it was as perfect as she was going to get it, and so she forced herself to move on.

  Robert had removed his jacket, and stood tall and handsome in the room, oblivious to her arrival. It was a bit of a bother, because Alice couldn’t find the words to get his attention.

  What would things have been like, she wondered, if what she’d read in those letters had come to be? Would he be happier now, married to his first choice? Would he smile when he turned and found her there?

  There was no way to know, and not much chance of undoing what’d already been done.

  Because fancy words had never been part of her vocabulary, and especially because she was too nervous to think of a better way to phrase it, Alice simply took a step into the room and spoke the truth without subtlety or tact.

  ‘I know about your fiancée, Robert.’

  It was like the sentence echoed, the day suddenly seemed that quiet. Maybe, she thought, she’d have been better off never saying a thing about it.

  The problem was that she suspected Elizabeth would say something soon if she did not. And it was better, she reckoned, to be in control of who found out what, and when.

  Robert had stilled. Alice dreaded the look she might find on his face when he faced her, and wished she’d stayed outside the room, minding her own business and crushing leaves. Turned out, when she got a look at his expression she couldn’t read it anyway.

  ‘Who told you?’ he asked, and at least he didn’t try and deny it.

  Bracing herself, she stepped properly into the room. ‘The letters, Robert. Nobody told me; I found ’em.’

  ‘The letters?’

  Why was he parroting her like he didn’t know what she was on about?

  ‘I didn’t go lookin’ or anythin’ like that. I just found ’em by accident. All right, I admit that didn’t mean I had to read the things, but …’ She still couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. ‘I just had to read one or two, you know …? I had to know what they were about.’

  ‘Where are they?’ he sounded stilted and just plain strange, and Alice sighed and pointed to a spot behind him.

  ‘There, with Black Beauty and Tom Sawyer. I put them all back, in case you’re wonderin’.’

  ‘Alice, I had no idea that I still … No idea. None.’

  ‘All right, well. I thought you should know, you know, that I know. So you don’t need to keep hidin’ it, or whatever you were up to. And I really did only read two.’

  The voices of Elizabeth and the housekeeper reached them then. This wasn’t a time for such a serious discussion; they’d places to be and there was a meal to be eaten.

  ‘We’d better go an’ eat,’ she said, and left the room.

  ***

  Robert hoped he wasn’t a coward. However, the evening unfolded without a single chance to talk to Alice about her revelation. And then, when after dinner he’d left his wife and his sister alone long enough to finish a letter that needed to be sent off in the morning, he’d returned to find only Elizabeth still in the room.

  ‘Where’s Alice?’ he’d asked, and received a curious look and the information that she’d taken herself off to bed.

  She’d only got half an hour’s head start on him—maybe less—but when he entered the bedroom that night he’d found her doing a half-hearted attempt at feigning sleep.

  ‘Alice,’ he’d begun, and felt the tension vibrating off her.

  ‘Alice,’ he’d tried a few more times, clasping her by the shoulder.

  Her response to that was to snore, which was hilarious and frustrating in equal measures. His wife didn’t snore, just as she’d told him on their wedding night. And, he learnt then, as he tried to find a way to make her sit up and talk to him, she was a fairly terrible actress.

  But he’d left her alone then. Not because they weren’t ever going to discuss Martha Wright, but because if she was that desperate for her space, he’d give it to her … for the time being.

  They’d slept on opposite sides of the bed that night, mostly because Robert found himself experiencing an odd sensation: fear. He hadn’t a clue if getting close to her after what she’d told him would get him thumped, or if he’d see that resigned look on her face again as she let him do whatever he wanted.

  Alice was out of the bed at some ungodly hour, leaving him to wake up alone. When he finally tracked her down later in the morning she was outside, in an apron and gardening gloves and discussing vegetables with the housekeeper.

  And so he’d taken himself off to the library to find those letters for himself.

  They were just as she’d said, and the pang he felt of … familiarity? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it was a pang all the same at seeing them, at the memories they brought back that he’d worked hard on forgetting over the past five years.

  Why hadn’t he said anything to his wife? Had it really just slipped his mind? Or had he assumed she already knew? Mostly, he thought it was something he didn’t want to discuss anymore, especially not with the woman who—in one way or another—had taken Martha’s place.

  Shaking his head at himself, he returned to the letters. He read a couple, and only a couple, just like Alice said she had done. And then he
put the little pile back together and wondered what he was supposed to do with them next?

  He thought about it a long time as everything fell into place. All those odd behaviours and funny looks from Alice over the past few days. All those inexplicably uncomfortable silences where there’d been chatter and jokes and gentle teasing in the past.

  It probably also explained the little limp she’d developed—and vehemently denied having—but he still hadn’t a clue how that part was connected.

  Bloody hell and damn.

  Now, it was late morning and both Alice and Elizabeth had an appointment in town, and there was no way Robert was letting them go without him. Not now, not now it was September and the roads potentially dangerous. He could not ask them to stay home, of course, because he didn’t own Elizabeth, and he knew Alice well enough to be certain she’d make her own mind up on the situation no matter what.

  Was he overreacting about Ian Ryan and the others? Was Alice? It was likely. They might be somewhere completely different by now, making their mischief in a place less prepared for them.

  He readied himself for the outing, foregoing the heavier coat now winter was over, and then went to find the others. It was Alice he found first, dozed off in the dining room with her face resting on her folded arms, and a gigantic book open on the table in front of her.

  Robert stepped into the room and noted she was dressed and ready to go, and that her hat was waiting at the other end of the table.

  His footsteps must have broken through her dreams, because she stirred at his arrival, and then came awake quickly at the realisation she wasn’t alone anymore. She sat up straight, her hair in something of a state of disarray, one cheek red from where it had been pressed against her arm.

  She looked first at him in some confusion, and then he saw her mind kick in. Yes, he thought. This is the first time we’ve been able to talk since you told me.

  ‘I swear I hadn’t any idea those letters were still here,’ he told her quietly and without preamble.

  She studied him a good, long time, and then got to her feet, running a hand over her hair.