Unnoticed

by Amanda Deed

  ‘A lost friend?’ O’Reilly’s brows rose.

  ‘Were you aware of her attachment to the drovers?’

  ‘Yes, but …’ O’Reilly’s expression changed from one of doubt to a grimace of suspicion. ‘How do you know so much?’

  Price studied Miss Jane’s father as he weighed his options. Was it time to bare his soul and take his chances, or should he end the conversation with an excuse? This might be the opening he’d been praying for. He missed the fresh-faced girl who had worked her way so quickly into his heart. More than anything, he yearned to spend time with her again, face to face. Posted mail was no longer enough.

  ‘I have had a few conversations with her and we have been exchanging letters over the past month.’

  ‘Letters?’

  ‘Since Mrs O’Reilly refused to welcome me into your home after I befriended a Chinese man, this has been the only way for me to converse with Miss Jane.’ It was hard to keep frustration from his voice, but he didn’t want to offend the man. His heart stepped up a notch as he forged ahead. ‘That might be another reason Miss Jane is out of sorts. At least, I hope that’s part of her troubles. You see Mr O’Reilly, I have become quite fond of your daughter and I would like to court her if you would give your permission.’

  ‘Court her?’ O’Reilly appeared to be stunned. ‘My Jane?’

  A moment of indignation flashed through Price’s mind. Did her father not believe a man might find her attractive? Did he hold his own child in so little esteem? Before Price could raise a suitable reply, O’Reilly gathered his composure.

  ‘If Jane is happy to receive your attentions, I have no objections. I will speak with her.’ A fleeting smile flashed across the man’s face. ‘And don’t trouble yourself over Mrs O’Reilly’s opinion. At harvest, I always have several Chinese working in my fields. They are good workers. As long as you don’t foist their friendship on us, I see no problem in you visiting our farm.’

  On the one hand, O’Reilly’s permission to see Jane elated him. On the other, Price was slightly vexed. Although O’Reilly’s opinion of the Orientals was better than his wife’s, he nevertheless held a bias against them. Price curbed a frustrated sigh. He would take what he could get. ‘Thank you, Mr O’Reilly. Thank you very much.’

  Jane’s father went over to the stand and collected his coat and hat. ‘If you were to come out to visit on Tuesday evenings for the next few months, Mrs O’Reilly and her girls won’t even be there. Planning and preparation meetings for the upcoming hospital fundraiser.’ He winked at Price.

  They shook hands as Price grinned back at him and then the farmer left. A surge of joy swept through Price. He could see Miss Jane again. Next Tuesday could not come quick enough.

  With little to do during the wet days, Jane had allowed Aunt Ruby to coax her into having a mask made for the masquerade ball she wouldn’t attend. Her hair had been tied, pinned back and then covered with a head scarf. Aunt Ruby had made her sit in a chair in the cookhouse, with a tea towel draping the front of her shoulders and chest. Then she proceeded to spread warm lard over Jane’s face.

  ‘Why must I have this greasy fat on my face?’

  ‘So the papier-mâché doesn’t stick to it.’ Aunt Ruby grinned as she pasted another wad of lard over Jane’s brow. ‘We’ll only do a half mask, but it is better to cover all your face for protection.’

  Jane eyed the other items Aunt Ruby had lined up on the work table beside her: Newspaper torn into strips and a bowl of white goo. ‘Are you going to put that white slime on my face as well?’

  Her aunt chuckled. ‘It’s only flour and water. It’ll not kill you, lovey.’

  Jane remembered Harriet and Nancy. ‘Will my sisters be doing this, too?’

  Aunt Ruby set aside her pot of lard and picked up the first of several strips of newspaper. She dipped it in the flour mixture and then pressed it across Jane’s nose. ‘Well, Frances knows how to create masks, too, so I imagine they will.’ She stooped to offer Jane a conspiratorial wink. ‘But theirs won’t be half as good as yours.’

  Jane couldn’t help but smile. If only she could go to that ball. With a disguise, an enchanting disguise at that, people might look at her with admiration instead of disdain. Her imagination fell flat when she remembered her colourless and patched dresses. She let out a sigh before forcing her mind back to the present. Then, a picture of her sisters being subjected to lard and sticky glue appeared in her mind and a gurgle of laughter escaped her. ‘I cannot see how they will sit through this without a fuss, though, Aunt.’

  ‘Aye and that is one reason their masks will be inferior.’ Aunt Ruby splashed another strip of soggy newspaper onto her face. ‘We need to apply a thin layer for now, to match the shape of your face. Then we let it dry before lifting it from your skin. Later, we can build it up with more layers to strengthen and shape it away from your face.’

  ‘Shape it?’

  ‘Why, yes. We could give you a big hooked nose if you wanted, or heavy protruding eyebrows, whatever you like.’

  Jane gave an involuntary shudder. She didn’t want to be made uglier than she already was. ‘I think I’ll keep my normal shape this time. How do you know so much about making masks, Aunt Ruby?’

  Her aunt stopped working and a shadow passed over her expression. Then she let out a long sigh. ‘I suppose you must find out one day, and it’s not all bad.’

  ‘What’s not all bad?’ This statement piqued Jane’s interest. Did Aunt Ruby have a dark secret? Her aunt was the most contented person she knew, what bad could there have been in her past?

  ‘Close your eyes and I’ll tell you a story while I finish this and while the glue dries.’

  Jane eyed her for a moment but then did as she was bid.

  ‘When we were still young, Frances and I became orphaned. I was twelve and she was thirteen. Our parents died in a house fire while we were off playing with our friends.’

  ‘Aunt Ruby, that’s terrible.’ Jane sat upright, aghast, compassion filling her eyes with unshed tears.

  ‘Hush, lovey. It was a long time ago and I’m reconciled to it now, but if you don’t stay quiet and listen, I’ll not get through the tale.’ Aunt Ruby smiled and patted her hand, although a tinge of sadness marred her smile for once.

  Jane leaned back again and closed her eyes. That was just the beginning?

  ‘We ended up in an orphanage as none of our aunts or uncles could afford extra mouths to feed. We were too old to attract the attention of a childless couple, but eventually a man believed we would be helpful in his business and selected us. Little did we understand then what that business would involve.

  ‘In our youth, we were both very pretty. The man’s enterprise turned out to be a bordello in France and our work became exotic dancing. I wonder now if the matron at the orphanage was aware of what she was sending us into, but chose to look the other way, so to speak.’

  Jane let out a gasp of shock. She’d never have guessed her aunt had this in her past, let alone her stepmother. But she kept her silence as promised and let Aunt Ruby continue.

  ‘Aye, it was shameful and I shan’t talk more about it.’ She let out a short sigh. ‘But as I said it wasn’t all bad. The dancing was rather fun and the costumes, although they were indecent, were glamorous in their own way. That’s where the masks came into it. We created several of them over the time we were there. I still have a few of my old costumes hidden away to remind me from where I’ve come.’ She paused and Jane opened her eyes to see her aunt step back. ‘There, I think that’s the last we need for now.’

  Jane sat up straight, but could not set aside what Aunt Ruby had been saying. ‘How did you transform from a dancer to a farm cook?’ It was hard to reconcile the cheery woman she knew and loved with a life of hardship.

  Aunt Ruby sucked in a deep breath and let it out at length. ‘There was a man—a doctor. He treated me for
an infection.’

  Jane watched as the rims of her aunt’s eyes reddened. She seemed upset but Jane was unaware of what caused her agitation. ‘What was wrong?’

  ‘There are details that must be left unsaid.’ Her aunt swallowed, shaking her head. ‘But there was something about the doctor that drew my attention. He always appeared to be peaceful, compassionate and accepting of me, wherever I’d come from.’ Aunt Ruby pulled a stool over and sat beside her. ‘You see, I felt as though I had been abandoned, even though my parents didn’t die on purpose. And then I had been used and treated as though I was worthless. By the time I was in this doctor’s surgery, I felt empty and numb.’

  Jane sat in silence. The emotions her aunt described so much resembled her own. Abandoned by her mother, even though it was an unrealistic accusation, neglected in part by her father, used by her stepmother and stepsisters. Jane identified with the empty feeling Aunt Ruby described deep down. Her eyes became moist as the realisation welled from within.

  ‘But Doctor Weaver, he seemed to have everything I was missing. It oozed from him. I wanted to know his secret so desperately, and one day I found the boldness to ask him.’

  ‘And what did he say?’ Jane leaned forward. She wanted to discover this secret, too, because Aunt Ruby must have found it. Her aunt had always seemed to have a hidden knowledge that made her happy.

  ‘He spoke to me of God’s love.’ Tears spilled down Aunt Ruby’s cheeks, but her smile spread wide. ‘He told me that God loved me so much, that He sent His Son to die for my sins. He said that no matter what I’d done, I could be washed clean.’ She closed her eyes, but an expression of awe lit her face with a glow. ‘When I let Him, God that is, have my broken heart, everything changed. You can’t know what I’m talking about unless you experience it for yourself.’

  Jane could not explain it, but her throat constricted with choked up emotion. She wanted to experience what Aunt Ruby spoke of desperately, but at the same time, it confused her. Hadn’t her mother repeatedly insisted that God would love her if she were good? And she had tried. Oh, how she’d tried. But there were times when she had failed and it had seemed hopeless that He would ever care for her. Her dear mama wouldn’t have lied to her, would she? Or could she have been wrong?

  Another thought struck Jane. Her stepmother was so different from Aunt Ruby. Hadn’t she experienced the same thing? ‘What about Mother?’

  Her aunt opened her eyes wide and breathed in deep. ‘Well, Doctor Weaver made it possible for us to leave the bordello. He found us a safe place to stay where friendly people looked after us and taught us more of the Lord’s ways. I felt my hurts melt away in His love.’ She let out another sigh. ‘It is unfortunate that my sister never let go of her anger. She has never really let the Lord in and thus, has never been able to love.’

  Aunt Ruby stood and began to clear up, pausing to touch the plaster over Jane’s face to see how dry it was. Jane contemplated her aunt’s story. It appeared that the main difference between the two sisters had to do with God. But wasn’t her stepmother a good Christian woman who went to church every Sunday? Even as she questioned, Jane recognised deep down that with Aunt Ruby it was real, while with her stepmother it must be a facade.

  Just like her own faith. Paste on a smile. Do the right thing. Say what will please others. And all the while, feel empty inside. Jane blanched, a lump rising in her throat. I’ve become just like Stepmother. Tears threatened again when she recognised it. She didn’t want to be anything like her. Not one bit. She wanted to be more like Aunt Ruby and Old Darcy … and Mr Moreland.

  Yes, Mr Moreland had that same peace and happiness in him. Not once had he looked down on her. He always showed the same acceptance that Doctor Weaver had shown Aunt Ruby. Did that attitude come from God? Was that the true face of Christianity?

  Where had she gone so wrong? Doing good and being good weren’t enough. And on top of that she was ugly. Why would God want anything to do with her?

  Aunt Ruby finished rinsing the bowl of glue out and returned to where Jane sat. ‘I’m going to pull this mask off now. Hold still.’ She tucked her fingers beneath the cast and prised it loose. ‘There we go. Next time we can put more layers on and neaten the edges. Now, come over here where I have some warm water for you to wash your face.’

  Jane followed her to a basin and with the aid of soap, managed to remove the greasy lard from her skin. Strangely, it left her face feeling soft and smooth. She dried her face with a towel and then looked at her aunt, one question on her mind. ‘Aunt Ruby, why would God love me?’

  Without hesitation, her aunt’s face lit up with a broad smile. ‘Because you breathe, lovey. He doesn’t need any more reason than that. Because you breathe.’

  15

  When Jane stepped out of the cookhouse, Jem and Zai appeared at her heels. That must mean that Pa had either finished working in the fields for the day, or he had gone into town. The two terriers had boundless energy and she smiled at the way they leapt around her feet. Moses squawked at them from her shoulder.

  ‘All right. A game of fetch. Is that what you want?’ At the very least it afforded her an excuse to stay away from her two sisters. It would also be a welcome break from her chores, even in the fine mist of rain outside. Her oilskin coat kept her protected from the dampness, and she wanted to think about the stories her aunt had shared with her.

  Jane picked up two sticks and headed for a large grassy field behind the circle of buildings. One by one, she threw the twigs and watched the dogs scurry after them, sliding to a stop as they found their prey, then racing them back to her. Even Moses joined in the fun, flying out with the terriers each time they took off, screeching all the way, and flying back again.

  Over a month ago, Old Darcy had said something to her about love and the way God said it should be. He’d mentioned a verse and she’d never looked it up. Mr Moreland had jotted a few Bible references in his letters, too. After what Aunt Ruby had told her, Jane made a mental note to begin reading her Bible and find out what it did say concerning God’s love. Aunt Ruby said that God even loved her, Plain Jane, whom everybody else despised, or at least ignored. Why would God take notice of someone when no one else ever did?

  Aunt Ruby obviously believed God loved her. She had shared an awful part of her history, a history that made Jane’s heart ache with compassion. And she suspected her aunt hadn’t even told her the worst of it. Something terrible must have happened that she refused to speak of it now. What awful tragedy might it be? The amazing thing was that unless you knew, you wouldn’t even guess. Aunt Ruby acted as though she’d had a long and happy life. She didn’t hold onto anger or bitterness in any way. And she said it was due to God’s love and grace.

  But God had not done a single thing for Jane. Though she’d asked and asked, she remained ugly and outcast. The only people that might have loved her once had departed—abandoned her in one way or another. Mama, Father, Danny, Prissy, not one of them had stayed. Old Darcy and Aunt Ruby were aging and they were bound to leave her one day, too. Why would God bother with her?

  Jane sighed as she threw the sticks again. If only she could be as happy with her own life. The only time she found a scrap of happiness was in spending time with her aunt and Old Darcy, and the letters from Mr Moreland. Oh, but she missed him. She devoured every message that came from him, pouncing on Aunt Ruby after church each Sunday where Mr Moreland handed her the envelopes. Indeed, she read them over and over until the next one arrived.

  Mr Moreland had written her about much of his life in America. He had mentioned his childhood friends who were the children of their black slaves. Another time he’d told her of his sisters and brothers, and how his father’s business was ship building and more recently railroad construction. He disapproved of the modern progression of steam trains and steam ships, though he didn’t say why, and preferred to travel by horse or by sailing ship. That was why he chose to sp
end months travelling to Australia on a sailing ship when a steamer would have taken just four or five weeks.

  He wrote her how much he enjoyed attending The Mission Hall and that his friends Mr Li and Mr Clark were fitting in, too. He told her funny anecdotes from his barbershop and Jane loved the way he signed off his letters. They always said ‘Yours etc. Price Moreland.’ Although that was the normal way one signed off a letter, Jane liked to think he meant more by it. Even though she shouldn’t let her hopes fly so high, she couldn’t help it. She had traced her fingers over the words many times. If she belonged to him, she would be the happiest person on earth. But, more likely, he would soon open his eyes and realise she was not worth the time or effort.

  Jane threw a stick harder than usual as her stomach clenched with dismay. It was no use to ever hope for more.

  ‘Jane.’ A voice behind her broke into her thoughts and she turned around, her arm raised, ready to toss the other stick.

  ‘Pa.’ Surprise made her arm fall limp. Her father rarely sought her out and this place behind the sheds was unusual for him to visit, so there was no accounting for his presence.

  He took a few steps closer and thrust his hands in his pockets, his eyes shifting here and there. He seemed uncomfortable around her. The knot in Jane’s stomach tightened. Her own father couldn’t stand to be near her.

  ‘How are you, daughter?’ The words sounded forced, as though he’d prefer to converse with one of the cows than with his own child.

  ‘Fine.’ Jane pushed the single word through gritted teeth. She turned her back to him and threw the second stick with vehemence. Jem didn’t care, he darted after it all the same.

  ‘That’s not what I see.’ There was something in Pa’s voice that made her swivel around to eye him, not that he looked directly at her. In fact, his focus rested on his boot, which kicked at an exposed root.