Unnoticed

by Amanda Deed

  Dear Mr Moreland,

  I have spent many hours trying to decide whether I should write this letter. Not whether I should write at all, but whether I should write this content. I am not sure if it is appropriate to write these things, or if you will now think I am quite vulgar, or at the least presumptuous. But at the same time, I am compelled to write it out. So, I am rather nervous as I proceed. Please forgive me in advance if I am being improper.

  I’m not adept at conversation and so I rarely tell you my thoughts, except on occasion when I blurt out some nonsense or other. So, I want to put a few of my thoughts in writing, in case I am never able to speak it out when we’re together.

  I find it very hard to keep you out of my mind. From the first moment I wake in the morning until I go to bed at night, you are in my thoughts. You are the most handsome man I have ever met and you are kinder to me than anyone I know. When you kiss my hand and tell me I’m beautiful, I am overwhelmed.

  I feel as though I am in a dream, but I don’t want to wake up. I’m afraid I might wake up and find it’s not real. But then, when you are here I know it’s not just a lovely dream. Yet it is still hard to believe that you would care for someone like me.

  Perhaps what I am trying to say is that I think I love you, Mr Moreland. There, I said it. You have my heart.

  Sincerely,

  Jane O’Reilly

  Price blew out a long breath, his heart hammering beneath one hand, which rested upon his chest. Here he had been wondering whether to tell Miss Jane the depth of his feelings, and she beat him to it—even if it was with much trepidation. He let the letter fall to his lap and leaned his head back against the chair. She loves me. And, blast it all, he still had to wait another two days to see her.

  A light chuckle rose from his throat as he remembered what he had written to her. Nothing so deep and meaningful as a love letter. He had told her a few anecdotes from his childhood memories. Wait, no, he had written a paragraph on her eyes—how their shade of pale green reminded him of the rock pools by the ocean—and how he could gaze into them for hours. What treasures might he find at the bottom of those pools? He’d hoped it would encourage her to give him eye contact when they were together.

  Price drew his brows together in a slight frown. She was right, though. It did seem rather bold of her to be taking that kind of step. She was usually so shy and unsure of herself and it appeared out of character for her. He pursed his lips together, unsure of her motives.

  With a slight shake of his head, he thrust that question aside and drew in an unsteady breath. She’d already won him, without the need for any declaration on her part. On Tuesday, he would make sure she knew how much her letter had meant to him.

  For late July, the sky was surprisingly clear, which suited Jane well as tonight a full moon was due. She intended to take Mr Moreland out for a night ride after supper. He could borrow one of Old Darcy’s warm coats and his hat as well, considering Essie wouldn’t appreciate Mr Moreland’s white one. Indeed, she had already collected the items and was on the way to the stable to hang them in preparation. Anything to try and expel the agitation within her. If things went to plan, it would be a magical evening.

  She hoped.

  Nerves had churned in Jane’s belly since before the midday meal. What if he hadn’t liked her last letter? What if he thought her brazen or flirtatious? That had not been her intention in the writing. All she hoped to do was cement his attachment. The last thing she wanted was for him to change his mind about her, like Aunt Ruby worried he might. Although it had been hard to put her feelings on paper, she needed Mr Moreland to know how he had affected her.

  Jane uttered a groan as she entered the stable. She’d written Mr Moreland that she loved him. It was true—at least, she felt it was true. She had once believed she loved Danny and that he loved her in return, and she had been wrong then. What if she was wrong this time? It was not as though she had intended to lie to Mr Moreland. And this feeling was so far beyond anything she’d experienced with Danny. Surely it was love.

  With the coat and hat in place, Jane glanced at Moses on her shoulder. ‘You must spend the evening in your cage tonight, my friend.’ She headed for the aviary.

  Ever since she had handed the envelope to Aunt Ruby on Sunday, Jane’s emotions swung between doubt over what she’d done and hope that it would produce a declaration from Mr Moreland. That is, if he cared for her as much as she longed him to. Oh, but what if he doesn’t? What if I’ve made his attraction up in my head because I want it so badly?

  Jane gave Moses a scratch on the neck and kissed him on his beak, then shut him in the cage for the night. The fluttering in her stomach refused to cease. She had been unable to eat a satisfactory dinner, barely tasting the few morsels she managed to force down her throat. How would she ever manage supper? Mr Moreland would be certain something was amiss with her. Somehow she had to relax.

  She looked over her shoulder to the west where the sun sank toward the horizon in a show of orange splendour. Soon, Mother, Harriet and Nancy would leave and then he would come. Jane made her way back to the house where she found Harriet in her room, adding last minute touches to her ensemble, and scrambling for things she needed.

  ‘You will miss out on so much, Janey-poo.’ Harriet enjoyed rubbing salt in Jane’s wound. ‘The masquerade ball shall be exceptional. We are planning an unforgettable evening.’

  ‘Have you found yourself a dashing escort yet?’ Jane knew she hadn’t. It was a small way to get even.

  ‘At least I will be attending the ball, even if I don’t have a partner.’ Harriet poked out her tongue.

  Her stepsister behaved like a spoiled child even at the age of nineteen. It shouldn’t have surprised Jane, considering her stepmother’s behaviour.

  ‘You should see the decorations we’ve been making. Tattersall’s Hotel is going to be turned into a royal pavilion where all the famous characters will be celebrating together.’

  ‘Who are you going as?’ Jane had seen her sisters working on costumes, but, in their snobbish way, most of the time they refused to let her see.

  Harriet looked at her with an expression Jane read as exultant. ‘We are to be fairies from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. I am Titania and Nancy will be Peaseblossom.’

  Nancy entered the room then. ‘Yes. Mother has shown us how to make magnificent masks. No one will recognise us.’

  Would their masks be comparable to her own glamorous creation? Aunt Ruby had brought out her box of costume remnants and together they selected tiny bronze coins her aunt called sequins, feathers and gold braid to attach to her mask. Jane wasn’t sure that her stepmother still owned any of her old costume materials.

  Mother bustled into the room then. ‘Come on, girls. The committee doesn’t want to wait for you to try on three different necklaces.’ She turned to Jane. ‘Make sure you put hot bricks in our beds before we get home. We shall be devilish cold by then and rather tired.’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’

  She scanned the girls’ bedroom. ‘Oh, and do tidy up for Harriet and Nancy. They won’t have time for it when they get back.’

  Jane followed where her stepmother’s gaze had just travelled. Indeed, her sisters had tossed pieces of clothing and jewellery everywhere and now the room resembled the aftermath of a windstorm. ‘Yes, Mother.’ She would have to start on it immediately. She wanted to save every minute possible for Mr Moreland.

  The three women hurried out of the house and to the buggy, and soon the trundle of wheels against the hard ground began to fade into the distance. Jane made rapid work of cleaning the girls’ mess and remained to fix her hair as best she could in Nancy’s mirror. She pinched her cheeks and smoothed out her impossible garments, then raced for her coat and gloves before taking a lamp with her to the front gate. The last of the light had dipped out of sight and the evening chill was setting in rapidly. Jane
arrived at the gate breathless, both from the rush to be there and her heightened anxiety levels.

  ‘Boo!’ Two strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind.

  A thrill of fright as well as pleasure ripped through her as she recognised Mr Moreland’s voice. He must have slipped through the gate a few minutes earlier. She swung around, with one hand clasped to her chest. ‘You scared me.’

  He chuckled and tucked her hand into his elbow. ‘I apologise. I could not help myself.’

  Jane began walking to the homestead, too afraid to spend any time searching his face for disapproval over her forwardness. The sooner they finished supper, the sooner they could be out riding. So far, he appeared to be the same as usual—calm and confident.

  What if he didn’t receive her letter? Panic rose in Jane. Maybe his demeanour was normal because he hadn’t read it. She tried to breathe out slowly. No. Aunt Ruby would have told her if she hadn’t managed to pass it to him.

  ‘Are you all right, my dear? You seem rather pensive.’

  How did he guess that? The slight movement of his elbow made Jane aware that her grip on his arm was tighter than it should have been. At once she loosened her fingers. ‘I’m fine. I have a surprise for you after supper.’ She glanced sideways at him and offered a shaky smile. A brief look at his face registered something different about him. ‘You have a new hat.’

  ‘Yes. Do you approve? Or should I say, will Essie approve?’

  Mr Moreland would still be handsome wearing a hollowed-out gourd for a hat as far as Jane was concerned. She giggled at the picture in her mind. ‘Essie will find you irresistible now, I’m sure.’ Just as any woman in the world would.

  ‘Well, what is this surprise you have in store?’

  ‘You shall have to wait until after supper to find out.’ If only Jane’s heart would stop racing until then, it would make life easier. She wouldn’t be able to eat a thing.

  Papa joined them for the meal, and Jane picked at her food while the two men discussed farming matters. In between her anxious thoughts, Jane reflected on the fact that Papa and Mr Moreland talked more fluently these days. Their conversation no longer consisted of Mr Moreland asking questions and Papa giving one word answers. That must be a good thing. Perhaps they were becoming friends.

  ‘How will you two spend the rest of this evening?’ Papa asked as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.

  His words drew Jane’s attention back to the table conversation.

  Mr Moreland turned her way, his eyebrows raised in question, while a mischievous grin played at the corners of his mouth.

  She cleared her throat and pushed food around her plate with her fork. ‘I wanted to take Mr Moreland for a ride by moonlight.’

  ‘Well now, what a grand idea. It’s a beautiful night for it.’ Mr Moreland seemed delighted with the notion.

  ‘Indeed. Perhaps I’ll join you.’

  What? No. Jane had hoped to spend time alone with Mr Moreland. Why would Papa decide to accompany them? He’d never shown any interest in riding with her before, and it was improbable for him to have found a sudden protective need to chaperone them, wasn’t it? Aunt Ruby seemed to think Papa did care for her and this response might give credence to her belief. But Jane doubted it. It was more likely he wanted to converse with Mr Moreland further, and thereby, steal his attention away from her.

  She gritted her teeth. There was not much she could do to change it. Especially since Mr Moreland appeared to be pleased at Papa’s suggestion to accompany them. Before she had a chance to object, Mr Moreland had welcomed him to the party.

  Feeling as though the whole evening had been ripped out of her hands, Jane followed the two men to the stable, trying to swallow her disappointment. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t so bad. She still, after all, had an evening with Mr Moreland, and that was preferable than not being near him at all.

  While Papa busied himself saddling his horse, Mr Moreland leaned over to whisper in her ear, surreptitiously squeezing her hand at the same time. ‘Thank you for a wonderful surprise.’

  His warm breath on her ear and his fingers wrapped around hers sent a shiver of delight down Jane’s spine. That alone made up for her father’s intrusion. She could do no more than smile up at him, her pulse leaping to attention at her throat.

  Minutes later, the three were riding out into the night, toward the river. As hoped, Essie had not shied away from Mr Moreland with a different hat on his head. In fact, she accepted him as though he’d been around her for years. Jane rode her, of course, and Papa rode his stock horse, Squire, leaving Mr Moreland to ride Old Darcy’s mare, Misty.

  Jane had indeed picked the perfect evening for a ride. The only improvement would have been warm summer air instead of the frigid winter atmosphere. But the three of them wore heavy coats, hats and gloves, leaving only their faces exposed to the cold.

  A companionable silence fell over the trio as they rode, drinking in the night sounds and the bright glow of myriad stars overhead. Soon the river came into view, the huge gums standing like giant shadows with arms raised against the starlit sky. In between the silhouette of trees the deep waters slid by in streams of silver.

  ‘It is rather breathtaking by moonlight,’ Mr Moreland commented.

  ‘Yes. I should do this more often,’ Papa conceded.

  ‘I come out often on a full moon if the sky is clear,’ Jane told them.

  ‘On her own, too.’ Papa added.

  Jane jerked her head around to look at him. He did notice? He must have caught her shocked expression for the corners of his mouth turned up in a grim smile.

  ‘It is always a relief when you return home safely. I never retire until you do.’

  Jane had nothing to say. To think, after all these years, Papa had waited up for her to return when she went out at night. About what else did she know nothing? Could Aunt Ruby be right after all? With her mind roiled in confusion, Jane nudged Essie ahead. What did it mean? Did Papa know the reason she often went out at night? That she had to escape from the badgering of her stepsisters and take time to pull herself back together. That she went to the grave to tell Mama and God her woes and beg the Lord to make her beautiful. Of how much was Papa aware?

  A sudden rustle in the bushes ahead made Essie shy, and when an oversized rat, probably a bilby, darted across their path, Essie took fright and bolted. ‘Essie, don’t be silly.’ Jane tugged at the reins.

  As her horse darted away, she heard the two men calling behind her. She supposed they were coming after her to rescue her. Not that she needed rescuing. Essie panicked often and Jane would have her back in her control within moments. ‘Come on, girl, settle down.’ With a few soothing words and strong handling of the reins, Essie soon complied and stopped running. Jane jumped down and went to Essie’s head to calm the horse further. The tall mare huffed steam out of her nose and nickered in the back of her throat.

  Essie jerked against the reins again as Mr Moreland pulled up to a sudden stop beside them. ‘Are you all right?’ He leapt from his mount.

  ‘Whoa, Essie.’ Jane stroked her horse’s nose again. ‘Yes, I’m fine. It happens often.’

  ‘Ah.’ Mr Moreland adjusted his hat, looking shame-faced. ‘Your father said you would be.’

  Jane turned to him then, surprised. ‘He did?’

  Mr Moreland stepped closer. ‘I’d say he is rather proud of his daughter beneath that gruff exterior.’

  Jane searched his eyes in the semi-darkness. ‘You really think so?’

  He looped his reins over an overhanging branch and stepped even closer. ‘I can’t think of a single reason why he shouldn’t be.’

  Jane’s breath left her in a whoosh at his nearness and she fumbled with Essie’s reins.

  ‘Your letter, Miss Jane.’

  What was that? A statement? A question? An accusation? ‘Yes?’

>   ‘I wasn’t sure you were ready. I thought you wanted time to recover from your drover friend’s desertion?’ He was watching her closely, mere inches away.

  Jane could barely breathe, let alone answer him. She tried to swallow, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. ‘I think … I think he was just that. A friend.’

  Mr Moreland brought one gloved hand up and cupped her chin, brushing her cheek with his thumb. ‘And this doesn’t frighten you?’ His voice had grown husky.

  Jane chanced a look into his eyes and saw intensity in his gaze. ‘I’m terrified,’ she whispered, ‘but only that you might change your mind about me.’

  Moreland let out a choked sound that somewhat resembled a groan. ‘Do you know how much I want to kiss you right now?’

  He was so close that the mist of their breath mingled and his gloved thumb continued to caress her cheek, making her stomach churn with longing. ‘I … I would not … object,’ she managed to mumble, her eyes on his mouth which moved ever nearer to hers.

  This might be the moment. He was going to kiss her. She yearned for it and waves of heat shot through her entire body while her heart pounded in her ears. But then, instead, he rested his forehead against hers and he closed his eyes. ‘No, I think not,’ he whispered, although it sounded much like a groan. ‘Not yet.’

  Jane’s mind tumbled in confusion. He didn’t want to kiss her after all? But hadn’t he just said …? Maybe he did think her too bold. She had practically just offered herself to him. Heat burned in her cheeks as she tried to grapple with this seeming rejection. She pulled back from him.

  ‘Mr Moreland? Jane?’ The harsh reality of her father’s nearby presence brought her out of the moment with another rush of warmth to her face.

  ‘Over here, sir.’ Mr Moreland answered, sounding strong and confident, though he remained inches away, now smiling into her eyes. His hand trailed down her arm until he gripped her fingers and then pressed his cheek against hers to whisper in her ear. ‘I must tell you, Miss Jane, that I began to fall in love with you that first day when you walked into my surgery. I’m not likely to change my mind now.’