Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor

by Rue Allyn

  Electra, taken aback by the child’s nonchalance over the event, tried to collect her thoughts to probe further when Mrs. Purnell returned.

  “That’s enough of bothering Mrs. Radcliffe, Lucinda,” said Celia Purnell, bustling into the room with the teapot and cups.

  “No, we were having a lovely talk. I hope you don’t mind, I have given her a small cake.”

  Celia Purnell’s face twitched in response. “Not a crumb on my clean floor now, or on your pretty dress. In fact, eat it on the veranda.”

  Behind her mother’s back, Lucinda grimaced and skipped out to the veranda.

  “I hope you don’t mind my saying, but Lucinda appears in good spirits despite her ordeal,” said Electra carefully.

  The woman looked down, nervously fingering the folds of her skirt. “Mr. Purnell says it is only because she was too young to realize the horror of the event.”

  Electra picked up her cup, carefully sipping the tea. She was not sure how to broach the subject of Bulanggi’s impending hanging. Celia Purnell looked as if she would run like a scared rabbit if the conversation became difficult.

  The woman looked down, pushing the handle of her cup backwards and forwards on the saucer. She took a deep breath and her words tumbled out. “What will they do to him? You know, the one who — ”

  Electra nearly spilt her tea in surprise. “They mean to hang him,” she said, holding the woman’s gaze.

  Celia Purnell blanched. “Oh dear. But couldn’t they do something else? Perhaps imprison him for a good while or send him away?”

  There would not be a more perfect opportunity to make her appeal.

  “Or perhaps set him free,” said Electra.

  The woman looked up, frowning at her statement. “Why would you say that?”

  “I need to speak with you candidly and directly. Is that acceptable?”

  The woman nodded, her eyes avoiding Electra’s.

  “The man’s family says he did not act in any way inappropriately with your daughter. I don’t know if this is so. Only he and Lucinda know the truth. He told them he was spearing fish when she ran to the river and slipped in. Without a thought for consequences, he jumped in and saved Lucinda from drowning and when he pulled her out and tried to calm her, you came out, followed by your husband. The rest you know.”

  The woman’s lips had tightened into a thin line and her knuckles were white as she gripped her cup.

  Electra laid a hand on her arm. “Mrs. Purnell, if there is anything you know about what happened you must speak up. The governor has agreed to a trial and it will be your and your husband’s evidence that will determine whether he lives or dies.”

  Celia Purnell jumped to her feet and her cup clattered to the table. “I think you had better leave, Mrs. Radcliffe. My husband has been clear about what happened and will most certainly repeat what he has said at any trial. I cannot contradict him.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality. I am truly sorry to have distressed you,” said Electra, standing to leave. As she reached the door, she turned around, pleading with the woman. “Do you really want your beautiful daughter to go through her life believing her innocence was soiled? And can you live with the fact that you may be sending an innocent man, one who saved the life of your daughter, to his death?”

  Mrs. Purnell all but pushed Electra out to the veranda. Lucinda jumped up to follow Electra and was grabbed by her mother, pulled into the house and the door was slammed firmly shut.

  • • •

  The grounds were deserted when she rode back to Riverside. She left her mare with the lad in the stables and headed for the front of the house. The sound of male voices in the drawing room told her the lawyer had arrived and she prepared to inform them of her failure. As she reached for the doorknob, she heard William speak and hesitated for a moment, listening to the rich timbre of his voice before entering the room.

  George Cartel was a tall, thin man with a fine hooked nose. His small intelligent eyes would miss nothing and Electra liked him immediately. As William introduced them, the lawyer’s sharp eyes appraised her astutely.

  “Have any luck with Mrs. Purnell, Mrs. Radcliffe?” he asked.

  She sighed, wishing she had returned victorious, if only to impress Mr. Cartel.

  “I did my best but I think she’s scared of her husband and he has decided Bulanggi touched his daughter. This may sound far-fetched but perhaps this has made him a figure of importance and the truth may not work as well for him.”

  “Not far-fetched at all, in fact, probably right on the money,” he said nodding.

  William stood from his place on the couch and indicated for Electra to sit while he pulled up a high-backed chair for himself. George Cartel resumed his position on the armchair to her left.

  “Did you speak to the child? Did you get any other impressions about the situation while you were there?” asked William.

  She sat back, speaking slowly as she thought on her response. “Yes, it was very interesting. Mrs. Purnell was extremely nervous, exhibiting an element of obsession around the cleanliness of the house and her daughter’s appearance.”

  “Could you be a little more specific perhaps?” asked George Cartel.

  “The child was dressed in her Sunday best and watched carefully by her mother to ensure not a speck of dirt touched her person or clothing. It made me wonder about Mr. Purnell’s expectations, or even control, of them both. I got the impression Mrs. Purnell would be fearful of contradicting him.” George Cartel tapped the side of his nose, nodding in agreement. “But the really interesting thing,” she said, as she sat forward in her chair, looking from one man to the other, “was that the child seemed totally undamaged from the experience. In fact, while her mother was out of the room, she shared the adventure of falling into the river as if it was the most exciting thing that has happened to her.”

  William leant toward her. “You’ve done splendidly, Electra. We can work with what you’ve told us and who knows, Mrs. Purnell’s conscience may get the better of her. I would warrant you gave it a good pricking,” he said.

  Electra was surprised at how well he seemed to know her. She told them both what she had said as she left Mrs. Purnell and the lawyer slapped the arm of the chair. “Good Lord, madam, couldn’t have done better myself. Wouldn’t like a job would you?”

  Feeling a little less like a failure, she left them to work out the finer details of the defence and wandered out to the kitchen to reward herself from Shi Liang’s larder.

  Contentedly nibbling the sugar icing off a small cake, she started at the sound of pathetic crying as Mary Buckley rounded the kitchen with Freddy in her arms.

  “Oh mum, he won’t stop howlin’ an’ he’s hot like a burnin’ coal. I think he’s got the fever an’ he won’t eat or nuffin’,” she wailed frantically. “An’ look, he’s shittin’ like water.” As if on cue, a light brown liquid ran down the baby’s leg. Shi Liang nudged her toward the door but Electra clicked her tongue at him and put her hand on Freddy’s forehead.

  His skin was certainly burning and his cry was not the lusty, hungry cry of a healthy baby. All Electra could think was to get fluid into him and put him into a tepid bath to try to bring down the fever. As for the diarrhea, she was stumped.

  Muttering to himself, Shi Liang bustled about the kitchen, put a pot of water on the fire and rummaged for clean muslin. As he handed the cloth to Mary, Shi Liang’s head jerked up and he let out a loud “Hsssst” sound of displeasure.

  Yaraay and Waruu, seeking news of Bulanggi, stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Yaraay’s eyes darted to the baby. Her brow puckered in a deep frown. She looked at Electra and nodded her head at the child, seeking permission to approach him. Relieved, Electra grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the baby, placing Yaraay’s hand on his burning skin.

  “Haiee!” She shook her head, eyes wide with alarm.

  “Get her away from my baby! I don’ want her touchin’ him,” said Mary, pulling the limp bund
le away from Yaraay, who backed cautiously toward the door.

  Electra put her hand on Mary’s arm. “Mary, I know you’re frightened but Yaraay is a medicine woman and she may know how to get Freddy’s fever down.”

  “No mum, you kin do it. You knows what ter do. Yer fixed him last time,” she said, not moving her eyes from Yaraay.

  “I’m sorry, Mary but I don’t know anything more than sponging him. Yaraay might know some herbs we can use. I trust her completely. Please let her help Freddy,” pleaded Electra.

  Mary looked at Electra, over to Yaraay and then down at her baby. Freddy had become quiet and as she watched him, his eyes rolled back into his head. “Oh mum, do sumfin’ quick. I fink as how he’s dyin’,” she sobbed.

  Yaraay disappeared as quietly as she had appeared. While they waited, Electra sponged the tepid water over Freddy’s small, burning body and Mary squeezed water into his mouth. He was too weak to swallow but a little trickled down his throat. Shi Liang, despite his earlier resistance, had now become quite attached to the baby. And in his distress, he hovered around them wailing pathetically until Electra lost patience and sent him outside.

  Not long after, she heard an exclamation from William. The noise had brought him hurrying to the kitchen where he collided with Shi Liang, pacing outside the kitchen door. Extricating himself, William peered in the doorway. Electra was aware of his eyes following her as she bent over a small tub, cradling Mary’s baby in her arms and gently sponging his body. Her hair had escaped its combs and hung in ringlets over her face, sticking to the beads of perspiration running down her face and neck. Beside her, Mary was ringing her hands, praying loudly for divine intervention. Despite the surprise and confusion on William’s face, no one stopped to give him an explanation. Nor did he interrupt by asking or make any attempt to leave.

  Yaraay returned and squeezed past William into the kitchen. In her hands she had two types of leaves and strips of bark.

  Electra looked at the leaves and bark, then over to William, raising one eyebrow in question.

  “It’s fever bark,” he said. “Comes from a gum tree. The natives use it to treat fever. And the leaves are eucalyptus.”

  She nodded her thanks for the information.

  With no other language than hand gestures, Yaraay directed Mary, Waruu and, surprisingly, Shi Liang to prepare the herbs. The bark was boiled until the water turned to a yellowy brown, then cooled and dripped into the baby’s mouth through a muslin cloth to lower his temperature. The leaves from the eucalyptus tree were crushed, placed in a bowl and boiling water poured over them to release the vapours. Electra understood these were supposed to relieve his distress and also help lower the fever. The bowl was then held under the baby’s nose with a large linen cloth around him to prevent the vapours from dissipating too quickly.

  Electra flexed her shoulders and lifted her head, absently wiping the hair from her eyes with the back of her hand. Catching William’s eye again, she tried to smile but the smile died on her lips as she looked back at Freddy’s limp form.

  “Is there anything I can do? Can I get anything?” he asked.

  Electra shook her head and mouthed “thank you,” tending once more to the baby.

  Yaraay reached for the second bundle of leaves that had been taken from a small bush near the house. These were also boiled, causing the liquid to become jellylike. Yaraay pointed at the runny mess down Freddy’s leg and indicated it would help the diarrhea. Mary alternated with dripping the fever bark and jelly leaf liquids into the baby’s mouth. William stayed nearby.

  The four women bathed Freddy and administered the herbs throughout the night. Shi Liang kept the water boiling for the herbs and for tea. He also insisted they eat a meaty broth to keep their strength up. Even the two native women agreed to eat what he served, frowning as they spooned it into their mouths. William had cushions and blankets brought out to the kitchen, which helped to ease their aching vigil.

  After some hours, by wordless agreement, they took turns to sleep for short periods of time. Mary, however, insisted the two native women were never alone with the baby so either Electra or Mary was always awake. At some point in the night, William had made the mistake of suggesting Electra leave Freddy’s treatment to the other women and go to bed. Her sharp retort sent him scampering into the house, but not before she saw the spark of respect in his eyes. This did not, however, deter him from appearing at regular intervals to ask if she needed anything. He obviously would not allow himself to sleep while the others battled to save Freddy.

  An hour before dawn, Mary woke Electra from her curled position in the chair. It seemed Freddy’s fever had broken and his diarrhea had eased. Waruu stood beside Mary, a white smile splitting her dark face as they both stroked the baby’s cool forehead. Electra blinked to make sure she was not dreaming the image of Mary and Waruu both fondling the baby companionably. On the far side of the room, Shi Liang snored quietly, no more than an arm’s length from Yaraay, also asleep on the floor. Despite her exhaustion, Electra chuckled as she surveyed the unlikely group.

  Mary finally took Freddy home with bowls of the herbal juices to continue the treatment. Yaraay and Waruu returned to Pretty Creek and their children, and Electra wearily climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

  As she reached the top of the stairs, William came out of the library. His eyes, as heavy lidded as her own with lack of sleep, ran over her anxiously. Befuddled with tiredness, her body swayed toward his and he caught her in his arms. Holding her to his chest, he pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, picked her up, and carried her to the bed.

  She snuggled into him, too tired to be angry anymore. His warmth and strength were all she wanted. There was a moment when she was sure he would climb onto the bed with her. But he covered her with the quilt, kissed her forehead, and left the room.

  As Electra drifted into the addictive realms of sleep, she was aware of a cold emptiness where moments before had been the warm protection of William’s hard chest.

  Chapter Twelve

  Before Electra arrived at Riverside, visitors were rare. But lately, not a day passed without at least one visitor.

  Mr. Cartel, the lawyer William hired, was due to arrive mid-morning for further discussions regarding Bulanggi’s trial. However, when he stepped from his carriage, he was not alone. As Electra and William watched, he handed down a plump, attractive young woman who he introduced as his niece, Caroline.

  Caroline had recently arrived on a packet from London and was eager, she said, to experience the excitement of the wild colony of New South Wales. Without stopping for proper introductions, she breathlessly told them the adventure of her sea voyage was nothing to the thrill of knowing she was about to meet a transported convict.

  William’s lips thinned as he set her straight. “My wife is no longer a convict. She has been pardoned by the governor.”

  Cartel offered his arm to Electra, who decided to remain silent on the matter. As they entered the house, she listened to the conversation behind her.

  “How wonderful for her. Meeting her is still a novelty, nonetheless,” she cooed at William. “Uncle told me people like yourself could take wives for the convenience. It must be difficult, when after having done so, one then finds the person they truly wish to marry?”

  Electra came to a sudden halt. She did not hear William’s response as Cartel, sensing her shock, moved her forward, exclaiming loudly at how well she looked.

  Shi Liang served tea and cinnamon cake, making the most of Miss Cartel’s astonishment at seeing a Chinaman. He backed out, bowing theatrically a number of times and then shuffled down the hall.

  “My goodness. I’ve heard of the Orientals but have never seen one. How fascinating this trip is proving to be,” she said clapping her hands.

  William grinned wryly. “Miss Cartel, you haven’t seen the half of it.”

  Before Caroline could ask what he meant, Electra, suspecting he referred to her friendship with Yaraay, hastily changed
the subject and offered her another cake.

  “I wondered if you would like to show Caroline your lovely garden, Mrs. Radcliffe? That will give William and myself time to deal with the trial,” said Cartel.

  Electra gritted her teeth but graciously agreed. William turned away to hide his amusement, clearly aware of her opinion of Miss Cartel.

  The ladies wandered for some time around the gardens where camellias, chrysanthemums, and native shrubs were flowering, and then over to the fruiting trees. Miss Cartel was fascinated with the abundance of fruit in the orchards and in the distant vineyards. Electra then led her down to the banks of the river.

  “What luck for you to find yourself in such a position, Mrs. Radcliffe. Your husband is such a handsome and knowledgeable man and with such obvious wealth.”

  Electra doused the urge to hit the pompous, insensitive woman. Then seeing Caroline’s wide-eyed innocence, realized she had no idea of the effect of her words.

  She chose to ignore her first statement and answer the second. “Yes, I suppose he is rather handsome and has worked hard to build this farm. Do you have a special person waiting for you in London, Miss Cartel?”

  The girl lowered her eyes. “Well, there was such a person but father was very much against the match. I have been sent to uncle so that I may forget him.” Her countenance changed to a radiant smile. “And I think I may just be able to do so.”

  “Of that I have no doubt, Miss Cartel,” said Electra, running her hands down a leafy branch of the willow.

  They remained for some time at the river’s edge, their eyes focused on the water’s movement as Caroline Cartel prattled on aimlessly.

  Electra only half listened to the young woman as her mind wandered to the awkward uncertainty that existed between herself and William. Despite telling Shelagh she would not make it easy for him, his considerate behaviour was breaking down the hard edges of her anger. In fact, when she caught him watching her bathe baby Freddy the night he was so ill, there was a surprising depth of tenderness in William’s eyes. And later when she left the kitchen to make her way upstairs, she was sure he had gently put her to bed, kissing her forehead like a child. These actions contradicted her opinion that he sought only warmth for his bed from their union. Perhaps there was still some small capacity for affection, despite his past experiences.