by Amanda Deed
For Mr Moreland’s treachery, I am truly sorry. I must add giving him permission to court you to the long list of mistakes I have made. I did believe with all my heart that he was a good man with a genuine love for my precious girl. What a wretch of a father I am!
If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I would be grateful beyond words. But I shall understand if you wish to be done with me and never speak to me again. I will endeavour to do better from here on.
Your devoted father,
Seamus.
Jane noticed smudges of ink in several places, as though it had been wet. As her own tears dripped onto the page, she understood that Papa, too, had cried as he wrote it. Even as she finished reading the letter a second time, a rustle in the doorway made her look up. Papa stood there, watching her with wide, fear-filled eyes.
Without a word, Jane pushed the chair back and crossed the floor in rapid steps. She threw herself into her father’s arms and wept, clinging to him with all her might. This time his embrace was not stiff and awkward in the least. He wrapped her up tightly and whispered the kind of words she’d longed to hear for so many years, whispered them through his own broken sobs.
Rather than go out into the wheat fields, Papa spent the morning with her. They talked through many things and cleared up several misunderstandings between them. It saddened Jane that it had been so long in coming. So many years she had missed out on Papa’s love because of a mixture of pride and shame on his part, and fear and doubt on hers.
In the moment of reading the letter from him, she’d had to make a swift decision. Forgive him and hope for better years to come, or hold him to his mistakes and remain miserable. Jane had been wretched for long enough. And now with Price having betrayed her, she only had Papa left.
Papa and God.
It surprised Jane to discover that she now believed. She’d written those verses out so many times, the words had engraved themselves somehow onto her heart. A new hope sang through her being, despite her heartache over Price. God loved her. He loved her more than anyone else could love her, and He would not fail her as people were always bound to do.
When Papa did go out into the fields to work, Jane hurried to her room to gather up her Bible. One passage captured her imagination and she wanted to read it again. One of King David’s psalms spoke of how God knew her inside and out and cared for every detail of her existence—that he knew where she went and what she did, every word she said, and that he was with her in all of it. Even from when she was in her mother’s womb, he had watched over her.
Those words sent tingles up and down Jane’s spine and by the third time through she fell to her knees beside her bed. Jane prayed to God in heaven and offered Him her broken heart. If He cared in so much detail about her, she must learn to trust Him with everything.
Lord, if You truly love someone as insignificant as me, then I promise to love and serve You all of my days. Let me know You as Aunt Ruby does. May I please have the peace that she does? Help me to be a gracious and kind person like her.
Jane thanked God for the beginnings of a reconciliation between her and Papa, and prayed that God would take away the pain of Price’s deception. After many long minutes on the floor, Jane rose with a lightness in her heart, even amidst current sadness. She was no longer alone or uncared for. An eternal, all-powerful, loving God stood beside her to uphold her, no matter what came her way.
That night, Jane cried herself to sleep once more, but this time her tears were tears of overwhelming joy—a joy which sprang from deep inside, although her sisters had been merciless in their mockery yet again that evening. Their barbs still hurt, but not in the same way anymore. Jane marvelled over the strangeness of that. Their words no longer registered as truth in Jane, instead she heard them as they were—the spiteful words of badly behaved girls.
Jane woke the next morning with eyes that felt awash with grit again from too many nights spent crying herself to sleep. But this morning was the beginning of a brand new day. Jane determined to spend a day without tears. She had spent enough time crying over the past few weeks. The time had come to put Price behind her and look to the future. She would focus on her animals as always, and wait to see what God had in store in time to come.
22
Price had barely let himself into his store late on Wednesday afternoon and begun unpacking his satchel when a loud and urgent thumping came upon the front door. The interruption made him frown. He intended to hurry out to the wheat farm that very afternoon to see his dear Jane, he needed to learn where things stood with her. He didn’t need an impatient customer intruding on his plans.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Price headed to the front of the store, ready to remind whoever had knocked that the shop remained closed for business. When he noticed through the glass the wiry form of Mr Clark his impatience melted somewhat. He should be able to afford time for his friend.
‘Clark, old buddy, come to welcome me home, eh?’
‘Not exactly, no. Well, I mean, of course it’s good to see ya, but …’
The look on Clark’s face, and his attempt at a smile made Price’s anxiety increase. Something was wrong, and more than he’d suspected.
‘But what?’ In part, Price didn’t want to hear the answer.
Clark shifted from one foot to the other in unease, then pulled a pouch of tobacco from his coat and began to stuff his pipe. A moment later, he shoved the whole lot back into his pocket. ‘Maybe I should come inside.’
How serious was this news? Price’s pulse began to beat in a strange unsteady rhythm. He held the door open wide and motioned for Clark to enter.
‘The thing is Bobby, a coupla days after ya left, a woman came into town on the paddle steamer.’
‘A woman?’ Price failed to understand how this posed a problem.
‘From America.’
‘What?’ Now his mind began to reel.
‘Yeah.’ Clark shuffled his feet again, clearly uncomfortable. ‘A Miss Anderson.’
Price stared at him, wondering if he’d heard correctly. ‘Vi?’ It was his turn to pace the floor. ‘Violet Anderson?’
Clark nodded with worry in his eyes.
A hundred questions rolled through Price’s mind. How? Why? Why Violet? Why now? What did she want? But the most important question was the one that left his lips. ‘Does Miss Jane O’Reilly know?’
One look at Clark gave him the answer he dreaded. A few quick mental calculations and he figured out what must have taken place while he visited Wagga. Price shook his head. ‘No.’ He lifted his hands and clasped them around the back of his neck. ‘No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.’
‘Now, I’m not a man to judge another, but this Miss Anderson’s been tellin’ folks she’s your betrothed. I reckon Plai … I mean, Miss O’Reilly must ha’ heard her, ’cause she dead fainted in the street an’ Miss Anderson was one of them that helped rouse her.’
Price felt the blood drain from his face. ‘Saints above. Are you serious?’
‘Yeah. Of course, no one guessed Miss O’Reilly fainted ’cause of Miss Anderson, except me, an’ I never said nothin’ to either of them. I didn’t tell Miss Anderson that Miss O’Reilly was your girl, an’ I didn’t tell Miss O’Reilly that Miss Anderson isn’t your fiancée.’ Clark eyed him with a slight challenge in his expression. ‘Truth is, I dunno what the truth is.’
Watching Clark, Price’s mind filled with alarm at what else Violet Anderson might have said around town. Vi knew him well; they had grown up together as close family friends. This must be the reason Jane did not write to him. Pain seared his heart at the realisation and he winced. She must consider me the lowest of villains. Price tried to imagine how devastated she undoubtedly felt. He’d made promises to her, promises that she would now assume were lies. He let out a deep groan. ‘I shouldn’t have gone away.’
‘Sure, you’ve
got a big mess to fix.’ Clark pointed out the unwanted truth.
Price heaved a sigh. ‘Beginning with Miss Anderson.’ But it would be unwise to seek her out this evening. If he ran to her side the minute he returned home, it would confirm her assertion in people’s minds. He must wait for her to come to him. And until then he could not go to Jane and set things straight with her.
Defeated for the moment, Price let his shoulders sag. ‘You might as well come up for coffee, Clark. I can’t do anything about it tonight.’
As it was, it neared midday by the time Violet arrived at his doorstep. Before then, though Price found it hard to concentrate while worrying, he’d sent a message to Patrick to return to work, opened the shop and seen to several customers. It seemed strange to Price that men who had shunned him before he went to Wagga, now lined up for a shave or a trim. What had changed their opinion of him?
Perhaps his association with Violet had them intrigued. Granted, they wouldn’t find a more glamorous woman this side of the desert, but if the men thought her betrothed to him, why try to get close? And they weren’t all single men either. That mustn’t be the reason.
Price contemplated Vi and what she would have been doing for the past two weeks. She was always the bubbly chatterbox type of character. Price rolled his eyes as understanding came to him. She had probably told everyone in town his whole life story by now. That must be it. The townsfolk were now aware he hailed from a very wealthy family, and who didn’t want to be associated with a rich man?
A flat laugh escaped him as he drew his razor blade across a customer’s cheek. All of a sudden it didn’t matter that Price befriended the lowliest folk, the outcasts, the Orientals, the natives. They now seemed blinded by his fortune. They probably figured if they befriended him, he might spread a few dollars their way.
Shallow. That’s how Price viewed these men and women. He hadn’t missed the insincerity of people one iota, being here in Australia. While no one had any idea of his true status, they treated him the same as everyone else, possibly worse. On the odd occasion, he longed for a silk-lined coat, or a top breed of horse, but he had not once yearned for the attention that came with money.
Price refused to let his disappointment at this superficial behaviour show. God still loved each one of them, and therefore, he must do the same. So, he kept his mouth shut, and showed genuine interest in these men and their lives. Maybe, in time, their friendship would become real.
When Vi arrived in her abundant finery, with her maid Miss Withers, Price vacillated between a wish to growl at her, and a desire to greet her as a dear friend. She entered his store with a waft of perfume, and ignoring the fact that Price had soap on his hands and clutched a sharp blade, approached him with hands outstretched.
‘Price, darling, how good it is to finally see you.’
‘Violet. Miss Withers.’ Price nodded to them, then turned his back and held the blade out to his assistant. ‘Patrick, can you finish up here? I must step out for a moment.’
He picked up a towel and dried his hands, eyeing Violet with misgiving. No wonder it had taken her till midday to get here, knowing the hours it took her to dress herself and do her hair the way she did. And before that, she no doubt kept to her bed—not the sort to rise earlier than nine o’clock. ‘Perhaps a walk along the river, my dear?’ Price gathered his coat and hat.
‘Of course. That sounds delightful.’
Violet moved to take his arm, but Price shrugged away from her. ‘I would prefer it if you kept your distance, Vi.’
They stepped out of the store and Price began to walk toward the Murrumbidgee, keeping his hands clasped behind his back. Miss Withers followed them at a small distance.
‘Why, you don’t seem at all pleased to see me, Price. And I have travelled such a long distance, too.’ Violet always turned a beguiling pout when she wanted to, but at this moment, it frustrated Price.
‘It’s not that I’m displeased, Vi, but, well, you have told everyone that I am your fiancé. Why would you do such a thing?’
Violet brought a gloved hand up to her lips, behind which she tittered in innocent laughter. ‘I didn’t tell them we were engaged, Price. I merely said I was your intended. It doesn’t mean the same thing.’
Price tried not to groan. ‘It may not mean the same thing to you, but other people will assume it. And why would you even say it when I have made it clear to you on several occasions that though my father thinks we would be a good match, I do not?’
Violet sniffed as though offended, but Price knew better. With her nose in the air, she looked at him with mock severity. ‘I thought you might have changed your mind after a long absence. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know.’
Price let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Vi, you are a very dear friend, but that is all we shall ever be. My father wants us to marry for no other reason than to make his kingdom bigger, so to speak. You know that as well as I do.’
Violet remained silent for a moment and then she released a delicate sigh. ‘Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying. Your family is very upset with you, you know. For months, they weren’t even sure you were alive. And then when they finally found out you were in Australia, your daddy was ready to board the next steam ship to come after you.’
‘That wouldn’t have ended well.’ Price managed a grim smile.
‘Exactly.’ Violet appeared to be pleased with herself. ‘Which is why I offered to come instead. I do love to travel. And your daddy agreed that the lure of a pretty girl might be better than a stern father.’ She batted her eyes at him for emphasis.
Price laughed, though there was little mirth in it. ‘But how did you arrive so fast? I only sent my first letter a few months ago.’
Violet grinned at him. ‘Ah Price, you and your stubborn refusal to enter the modern age of steam power.’ She sauntered a few steps ahead of him and turned around to face him, walking backwards. ‘It takes but a month to travel between here and America these days.’ She spun around and approached the riverbank. ‘What a pretty river.’
Price let his eyes travel to the slow moving waters, and they at once triggered memories of Jane. The walks and talks they’d taken by this mighty river. And the heart-stopping revelations they’d shared. He missed her and longed for her, and now their blossoming love seemed lost. Could he even fix this mess in any way?
‘Do you have any idea of the damage you’ve caused?’
Violet swung around to face him, wide-eyed. ‘Damage?’
Price thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘The girl that fainted in the street. I am, was, almost engaged to her. That is, before I went out of town.’
Violet stared at him, her lips parted for a moment, until his words sank in. Then her gloved hands flew to her mouth and her eyes took on a sheen of moisture. ‘No. Oh, Price. Oh, dear. I am so sorry. I didn’t realise. I didn’t think.’
Vi was genuine. Price had known this woman his whole life. She acted without thinking, let her mouth run off, often causing trouble. But beneath her impetuosity, she possessed a kind heart, and now as tears splashed over her cheeks, he believed her to be truly sorry.
‘The poor girl. Will she forgive you, or me for that matter? What can I do to help?’
He shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know.’ Price took her elbow and steered her back toward the barbershop. ‘But perhaps there is something you can do.’
Jane stood in the dining room, setting out the tableware for supper. The meal was still hours away, but she wanted to get it done in order to spend time reading her Bible more. Ever since she had given her heart to God, she had devoured the Scriptures in every spare moment. And no matter how many chapters she read, she wanted more. Every day she became stronger and more confident in His promises of everlasting love.
Jane had just laid the last plate on the table when the front door burst open, startling Moses on his perch wh
ere he’d been dozing. He flapped his wings and squawked in annoyance. ‘Silly bird.’ Jane could not keep a straight face around her cockatoo.
Nancy swayed into the room, her eyes dancing. ‘Oh Jane, you would never guess what we heard in town today.’
‘No, I’m sure I wouldn’t.’ Jane expected more of the proverbial salt that her sisters delighted to rub into her open wounds.
‘Mr Moreland is back,’ Nancy announced with an important tone.
‘Oh?’ Jane tried to appear as though this news was of the dullest nature to her ears. In truth, her heart leapt at his name and the raw pain of his betrayal surfaced with a rush.
‘Prissy Stevens saw him with her own eyes.’ Nancy continued with animated gestures. ‘She said she saw him walking down the street with Miss Anderson, arm-in-arm and looking quite cozy together.’
Did her sister not have an ounce of compassion? Jane swallowed hard, trying to hold back the emotion that made the back of her throat ache. What could she say to that? That she was happy for him? Because she wasn’t. He could rot in hell for all she cared. Jane sniffed in a deep breath of air and jerked her head up high. ‘Well, Prissy Stevens does love to tell the latest gossip.’ She refused to let Nancy see how much the news of Price and Miss Anderson affected her.
‘You’re just sore Mr Moreland hasn’t come back for you.’ Jane hadn’t noticed Harriet slink in behind Nancy. She now stood gloating at her. ‘Mama is going to ask him to give an address at the ball tomorrow night, since Mr Jones has come down with influenza.’
Jane unfolded and refolded a napkin, just to look busy. ‘That’s nice of her.’ It was funny how Mother’s opinion of Price changed as soon as she found out he was the heir to a great estate. None of it concerned her anyway, since she wasn’t going to the ball, and wouldn’t have to witness everyone fawning over him. Especially Miss Anderson. Jane didn’t think she could bear to see him happy with another woman.