Unnoticed

by Amanda Deed

  With that he withdrew, putting space between them once again and collecting the reins of his mount as though nothing had happened. Jane sucked in a deep breath of icy winter air and released it slowly, trying to still her shaking emotions. Mr Moreland loved her? Really loved her? Even though he didn’t want to kiss her? Elation mixed with her confusion. The sensation remained where his forehead had rested on hers and the intensity of that moment still resounded in the beating of her heart.

  ‘You were right, Mr O’Reilly, she had Essie well in hand when I found her.’

  ‘Well, I daresay it is time to head back.’

  Their voices seemed to come to her through a fog. Jane didn’t want to let go of that intimate moment she had shared with Mr Moreland. She wanted to linger in the heady magic of his presence and try to figure out what had occurred between them. Acting out of habit more than conscious decision, Jane climbed onto Essie’s back, taking up the reins and nudging her for home.

  This time, she didn’t care that Papa kept Mr Moreland talking the whole way back. Mr Moreland’s words left her lost in wonder. Surely now Aunt Ruby’s premonition would not take place. He loved her and he said he wasn’t going to change his mind. Jane’s heart sang with joy. Surely he would soon claim her as his own.

  As they rode into the courtyard, Jane’s soaring emotions fell to the ground with a thud, much as a kite when the wind drops. There, climbing out of the buggy, were her stepmother and stepsisters. Papa and Mr Moreland drew up and dismounted, greeting them respectfully, and Jane did the same.

  Papa took the reins of the three horses and took himself off to the stables. Jane suspected he used that duty as an excuse to avoid the inevitable confrontation ahead, and she shook her head in disappointment.

  Mother stared at Mr Moreland, then across to her, then back at him again, with growing contempt in her expression. ‘Well, well, well. What do we have here?’

  18

  Mrs O’Reilly walked back and forth before Price and Miss Jane, glowering at them with an imperious stare. ‘It has come to my attention that you, Mr Moreland, believe you are courting Jane.’

  Price’s memory flung back to recent years in America, with his father speaking to him in a similar way. How dare Price make his own decisions in life? Did Jane live with the same burden? He gritted his teeth. If he married Jane, he would exchange one domineering, unbending parent for another. It was an eventuality he didn’t want to dwell on at this moment. He needed to stand firm in front of this woman, for Jane’s sake. Price tried to keep his voice calm. ‘Well now, you have heard correctly.’

  ‘But I expressly said that I disapproved of you coming to this property.’

  Although Price had gained Mr O’Reilly’s permission, he refused to hide behind the other man’s words. ‘If this concerns the Chinese, I don’t see why …’

  ‘It might be a commendable thing to reach out to foreigners and coloured people, and I shall not stand in your way on that count, but it is not the kind of life Jane has been raised to.’

  Tension clenched Price’s gut. He was so angry he imagined that Mrs O’Reilly might see steam rising from his head or spewing from his ears. An unkind retort sat ready on his lips but he fought it back, opening and closing his fists. He wanted to ask the woman if she intended to raise Jane as a slave, as that was how she appeared to be treated. ‘Have you ever asked Miss Jane what kind of life she wishes to live?’

  It was a vain hope to try and get the woman to stand herself in Jane’s shoes for a moment, but he had very few options. Price glanced sideways at Jane who had paled, noticeable even in the moonlight. If only he owned the right to put his arm around her to reassure her, or even hold her hand.

  ‘Jane is not your concern, and it is none of your concern how we raise her.’ Mrs O’Reilly wasn’t giving any ground.

  A new idea struck Price. What if her attitude did not simply concern racial prejudice? What if it more accurately related to jealousy? Was Mrs O’Reilly jealous of Jane? She was Mr O’Reilly’s flesh and blood, and from what Price had seen of late, Mr O’Reilly deeply cared for his daughter. Was Mrs O’Reilly aware of his affection, and so attempted to frustrate any happiness Jane might find, out of spite? Especially if that happiness meant her own daughters missed out. He recalled when he’d first come to town, how they’d practically thrown themselves at him. Price found it difficult not to shudder at the memory.

  Price stared at the scowling woman for a moment before answering. ‘I’m sorry if you don’t approve, Mrs O’Reilly, but I have made Miss Jane my concern. It would be best if you came to terms with that.’

  Now he imagined steam spouting from Mrs O’Reilly’s head. Her cheeks puffed out in indignation and her back stiffened. ‘How dare you be so presumptuous? I think it’s time you left. Right now.’ She pointed a commanding arm toward the gate.

  Price took his cue and nodded. For now, he must leave it alone. He didn’t want to drive a permanent wedge between them. Turning to Jane, he offered her a reassuring smile. ‘Good evening, Miss Jane. Remember, if a large tree sinks its roots by a river, not even a raging bush fire can take it to the grave.’

  Price hoped Jane caught the implications of his words as he walked away. Mrs O’Reilly would most likely read it as impertinence—a rebellious encouragement in the face of her disapproval. Price sighed. So be it.

  He needed to think carefully over his next steps. He’d as good as promised himself to Miss Jane tonight, declaring his love to her. And fighting the desire to hold her—that had almost shattered his heart into a thousand pieces, the power of his emotions was that strong.

  Price forced his mind away from Miss Jane’s loveliness. He needed to consider everything. Although he’d known almost from the moment he met Miss Jane that a life with her was his desire, Price had not put serious deliberation into it yet. He must take his family back in America into account. What would Ma think if he up and married without her knowledge or presence? Father would be irate that he went against his edict for Price’s future, of course, but Ma would be heartbroken at being left out. Price took off his hat and rubbed his head in frustration. And he must consider his brothers and sisters, too, as well as Uncle Loren.

  Mrs O’Reilly’s sudden interference added to all of that. Price believed Mr O’Reilly supported his courtship of Jane and would grant him permission to wed her, but would he stand up against his wife’s controlling ways? The man had not shown mettle enough over the years to defend his daughter against the harsh treatment of Mrs O’Reilly, Miss Harriet and Miss Nancy. What made him think Mr O’Reilly would change now? Did Price even have a chance?

  It was as though he faced the same kind of ultimatum with which his father pressured him. Unspoken it may have been, but it hung there between them all the same. Either change what you believe, or lose everything for which you care. Price refused to do it then, and he couldn’t do it now. People should not be dismissed because of their country of birth or their status. He’d never change his mind about that. But would that affect a future with Jane?

  When he arrived back at his shop and living quarters, Price ascended the stairs with heavy steps. The first thing he needed to sort out was whether Mr O’Reilly would give permission for Price to marry Miss Jane. Then, if that went well, he aimed to make peace with Mrs O’Reilly, unless her husband did the job for him. Once he formed solid plans here in Australia, then there would be reason to work on his American family.

  Price removed his coat, gloves, hat and his shoes, then stretched out on the bed with his hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling. What would he do if Mr O’Reilly refused his blessing? His heart ached for Miss Jane. Would it be wrong to steal her away and elope in these circumstances? Price groaned. He doubted he could live with himself. Why was nothing simple in his life?

  Price rolled onto his side and lifted his Bible from where it rested beside the bed, opening it to read. He needed to pray
through all of this, but first he needed encouragement. He flicked to Romans and read: And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

  Price breathed in deep, as though the Word was fresh air. God saw his heart and God had a plan—a plan that would work for Price’s best and for Jane’s best. Thank you, Lord. I will endeavour to trust You. And that meant his ideas such as elopement must be dismissed. If the Lord wanted him to marry Miss Jane, He would make a way.

  How did the night go from being perfect to a complete failure within half an hour? Jane had gone to her room as soon as Mr Moreland left, running from the cold stares of her mother and the self-satisfied smirks of her sisters, humiliated. Now she paced the floor in desperate agitation. It couldn’t be over so easily, could it? Was she at the mercy of her stepmother’s prejudice?

  She had hoped her father might step in for once. After all, she had glimpsed one moment of hope that he cared for her that evening. But then came the yelling. The sound of raised voices drifted to her room. As soon as Papa came in from the stables, Mother had flung a series of accusations at him. Not that Jane understood every word, but she had caught the vicious tone. And Papa’s responses had been subdued enough for Jane to suspect the worst—that he did nothing but resign to her unfair decree.

  The house eventually became quiet again, but for the occasional giggle that drifted from her sisters’ room. No doubt they found much amusement from this night’s work. Jane imagined with sinking hope the mockery she would receive the next morning. ‘Plain Jane thinks she’s going to catch the handsomest man in town.’ She pre-empted their sing-song chants and laughter in her head.

  But they didn’t know the one treasure onto which Jane held. Mr Moreland had told her he loved her. The girls could never take that away from her, no matter how harsh their jeering became. Jane clutched her hands to her chest. Yes, Mr Moreland loved her, she must keep that foremost in her mind, while everything else fell apart around her.

  Creaking boards on the veranda made Jane stop still. Someone was coming. She waited, expecting her stepmother to burst in and unleash a tirade over her this time. Silence reigned and Jane began to wonder if she’d imagined the footsteps, until the person cleared their throat and shuffled their feet again. Jane went to the door and pressed her ear against it. Was it Papa? Had he come to speak to her? To tell her it was all right?

  Her hopes sank when the footsteps retreated without so much as a tap on her door. It confirmed to her that Papa had let her down, yet again. Why did he ever marry that woman? Didn’t he realise they might have been happy without her? Without anyone. Jane opened her door wide to make sure no one remained there. She looked in every direction to discover she was indeed alone.

  Another set of raised voices drifted across the courtyard, however. Aunt Ruby? Jane had never heard her aunt sound cross in her life. Another voice sneered in response. Her stepmother’s voice, without a doubt. Were the two sisters fighting? And what would they argue over? Surely not over Mr Moreland.

  Jane considered sneaking over to the cookhouse to listen, but then changed her mind. She preferred to stay ignorant. She didn’t want to discover she was the reason everyone argued this night. It was bad enough to begin with, that they were burdened with her existence. Now, it seemed, Jane’s search for happiness made them angry at each other. It’s all my fault.

  Closing her door, she undressed and slipped beneath her blankets. If sleep were attainable it would be a small mercy. But sleep refused to come. Jane’s mind kept replaying the events of the evening, particularly the unpleasant ones. She found it hard to focus on the magical moment she’d shared with Mr Moreland in the face of such trouble.

  The first sobs burst forth when she remembered that not even Mr Moreland had fought hard against Mother. He’d walked away without standing his ground. Would no one fight for her? Perhaps he didn’t love her as she loved him. Had he ever told another girl that he loved her? Would this turn out the same as the incident with Prissy?

  As Jane cried into her pillow, muffling her sobs so that no one would hear, she remembered Mr Moreland’s departing words. ‘Remember, if a large tree sinks its roots by a river, not even a raging bush fire can take it to the grave.’ Jane sat upright in bed, wiping at her eyes. What did he mean by that? Was he saying their love resembled a tree and that difficulties would not stand in their way? What other conclusion might be drawn from it? No matter how she looked at it, Jane could not find a negative interpretation. Her tears became those of relief and hope—even a smidgeon of joy. She did not face complete loss after all.

  Jane lay down again and finally found rest, albeit a restless sleep. And somewhere during the night, her worried mind came to a strange conclusion. She opened her eyes with a start: A river, a tree and a grave. Those three words jumped out at her from Mr Moreland’s goodbye. He wanted to meet her tomorrow at her mama’s grave. It seemed a vain hope when she considered it, but if a chance existed that she was right, come morning she would be at the riverside.

  When dawn finally arose Price left his troubled sleep behind and dressed for the day. Before opening the store, he must find out if Jane had figured out his invitation. He needed to convince her he wouldn’t give up on her, even if her mother made things difficult for him. Jane was fragile at best, and it wouldn’t take much to make her think otherwise.

  The early morning air was crisp, even more so than the night before, and icy grass crunched beneath his feet. The morning song of magpies and kookaburras surrounded him as he walked toward the big gum by the river. Price rubbed his hands together, and breathed warm air onto them. In his hurry, he’d forgotten to put on his gloves. Anticipation quickened his steps. Would she be there?

  The huge red gum stood silent beside the river. Not a breeze shifted the smallest leaf, and a thin layer of fog hugged the base of its trunk, floating out over the small grave plot. It did not appear Jane had arrived, and Price squinted high into the boughs in case she happened to be waiting there. Nothing.

  Price sat on the damp ground overlooking the ever-flowing waters to wait. He had time. Price checked his fob. The store didn’t need opening for another two hours. He picked up a twig and began to break pieces off, throwing them into the river. The solitude gave him a chance to commune with his Father in Heaven, and in such peaceful surroundings, he found it easier to pray.

  His departure from America on sour terms with his earthly father gnawed at him more and more of late. Especially now that he considered marriage. A man appreciated his father’s approval on decisions like these and Price wouldn’t have it even if he asked. Should he write to Father and try to patch things up between them? Price found it hard to imagine that any attempt would make a change. How many times had he tried to reason with the man before packing his bag and leaving? Price had never encountered a man more obstinate than his father. But deep down, he understood that walking away was not the best choice. At the time, it had seemed his sole option, and he had been urged on by the dream to reach out to lost souls.

  Back then, he believed it was God’s will for him. Now, with all that had taken place and the lack of fruit from his labours, he doubted. Perhaps God had not spoken at all. As he sat by the Murrumbidgee, Price laid it out before the Lord. Father, lead me to do Thy will, and not my own. If I have done wrong, I ask Your forgiveness. He prayed for the opportunity to make amends with his father, whether by letter, or face to face.

  When Price checked his watch again, it was half-past eight. The time disappeared so quickly during that time of prayer. And he felt much lighter for it. The burden had lifted. He stood up and stretched his cold limbs, jogging on the spot to increase circulation to his arms and legs. As he rounded the trunk of the tree, he searched the morning view for any sign of Jane, but he could not see her. Not within his short range of vision into the trees, anyway. Perhaps she had not understood his meaning after all.

&n
bsp; Deflated, Price glanced at the time once more. He needed to head to the store if he were to open on time. With one last scan of the area, Price began the walk back to town.

  ‘Mr Moreland!’

  Heaven be praised, it was a magical voice to hear. He swivelled on his heels to watch Jane hurry toward him, while Moses flew overhead, alighting on one of the lower boughs of the gum tree.

  Miss Jane must have run the whole way for she stopped before him and doubled over to catch her breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ she managed between gasps. ‘I couldn’t get away till now.’

  Of course not. Price wanted to slap himself in the forehead. She would have been up before dawn, stoking fires, feeding animals and who knows what else before she found the opportunity to sneak away. ‘But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.’ Price covered the space between them in a single step and took her hands in his. ‘And you understood my meaning last night.’

  Jane tilted her head back to look at him. The sprinkling of freckles across her nose beckoned him to kiss them, but he resisted once again.

  ‘Why did you want to see me here?’

  Price gazed into her eyes and drank in her loveliness. ‘Do I really need a reason?’

  Her lips parted with a slight gasp, making him want to embrace her even more. He had better be quick and say what he needed to say before he became too mesmerised by her. Price let go of her hands to try and break the enchantment for long enough to concentrate.

  ‘Although, I did have something to speak to you about, as you may have guessed.’ He tried stepping back a little and even turning away somewhat. It was no use. He reached for her hands again and cleared his throat. ‘Before we can take things any further, I must speak with your father and clear the air, so to speak.’