by Rue Allyn
William crouched in front of her. “Will you get to the point, Isabele? I can’t stand the suspense.”
She puffed out her chest, obviously feeling quite important. “In the letter, he said he had changed his mind and would marry her after all if she would come back to England as soon as possible. But there were some conditions.”
William felt the shock of her news run through his body. Isabele would be leaving. He hadn’t even told her she was his daughter and she was leaving.
He had to know the rest of the letter. “And what were these conditions, might I ask?”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Will, but I was scared she would catch me so I didn’t read any more.” She grabbed his hand. “But I don’t want to leave. Please don’t let her take me away. If she makes me live with Lord Baines I will run away. I truly will.” She had tears in her eyes.
He pulled her into his arms as she sniffled against his shirt. “We will work this out, little wombat. I promise you.” How was he to keep such a promise? He didn’t know, but he made it anyway.
• • •
“Wonderful to see you again, Caroline and you too, George. Come in, come in.” William led them into the sitting room where Electra joined them moments later.
She was wearing a deep moss green gown, which emphasised her pale cheeks and the dark shadows under her beautiful eyes. He wondered would he ever watch her walk into a room and be unmoved. Mary appeared with the tea service and fresh cinnamon cake from Shi Liang’s oven. He watched Mary fuss around Electra. He wasn’t the only one concerned at her state of mind.
William surveyed the room and, after catching Electra’s eye, walked pointedly over to the sofa where Caroline sat and perched himself beside her. She looked delighted and reached over to pat his hand.
“I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to be here again,” she simpered, her attentions fully upon William. She flicked him playfully with her closed fan, “I thought you had forgotten about me, you naughty boy.”
“As if I could forget about the toast of Sydney Town,” he answered, looking admiringly toward her cleavage.
Electra blinked and a small frown creased her forehead. George Cartel pulled his chair next to hers. “Let’s have a chat, my dear and leave them to their nonsense,” he said, winking at her in complicity.
William glanced at Electra and noticed with quiet hope his wife’s gaze continually straying to where he sat with Caroline Cartel. Good, he had her attention. Time to take it further. He nodded at Caroline, who raised her voice.
“William. Did you hear Lady Percy’s throwing a ball? The first of the season. Have you been invited?”
Electra raised her eyebrows and her frown deepened.
“Yes, of course. But my wife is not up to socialising at the moment so I probably shouldn’t go without her.”
“You must. I shall be there, and I shall take very good care of you.” She leaned toward him, lowering her voice but not too low for Electra to miss. “I have the most daring new gown. Apparently, it’s all the rage in Paris and I have had it made especially for Lady Percy’s ball.” She snuggled closer to William and tapped his arm again with her fan. “You and I will make quite a spectacle together. What do you think, George?” She looked over toward her brother.
Electra’s face flushed red, her breathing quickened, and William watched her hands close into fists against her skirt. Relief poured through him with the knowledge this farce was actually working. For the first time in days, Electra was showing signs of life. Signs of her old self.
Electra leapt to her feet, her cup clattered to the floor and smashed into tiny pieces. “How dare you! How dare you flirt shamelessly with my husband while I sit in the same room listening to your mindless drivel?” She rounded on William. “And you! You sit there like an adolescent schoolboy being stroked and flattered as if you had never seen a member of the opposite sex before.” She turned back to Caroline. “Now take your silly fan and your even sillier conversation and leave my home. Immediately.” Electra looked apologetically at George Cartel. “I’m sorry, George but you must really do something about your sister’s appalling behaviour. Good day.” She left the room. Then spun around and came back in, looking at William. “And don’t think you’ve got away with this either, you — you philanderer.” Then she was gone again.
William hurried them out the door and into the carriage while Mary and Shi Liang stood open-mouthed in the hall.
• • •
Electra sat on her bed, her body shaking from her furious outburst. What had just happened? For the first time in weeks, she felt something. Anger. Full blown and glorious anger. In fact, if William were to walk through the door right now she would throw something at him. Something hard. How heartless to flirt with that woman while she was not quite herself. And as for that trollop, Caroline Cartel, she needed to be put on the first boat back to England.
Electra breathed slowly through her nose and out through her mouth until her anger eased and her mind calmed. She flopped back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Strangely, since her outburst, her head felt clearer. As if the sun had appeared after weeks of cloud and mist. She watched captured dust particles dance in the last rays of the sun as it streamed through her window. Instinctively, her hands cupped the small mound on her stomach. With a sense of awe and intense relief, she discovered anew the child in her womb. The child who had ceased to be real that night.
Electra sat bolt upright on the bed. That night. As small pieces of memory drifted into her consciousness, her body turned cold with fear. She knew she had to fight to keep her mind open, to let the memories in, but she was so frightened of what they might be. The door opened and William moved to the bedside.
Her vision blurred and her body began to shake uncontrollably. Bit by bit the memories emerged. William was here. He would keep her safe. She grasped his arm as the words tumbled forth.
“Critchley … he was going to kill me. Oh God, what did I do?” she gasped.
He held her face between his hands and gathered her close to him. “He’s gone, my love. He can never hurt you again.” A quiver ran through her and he held her harder, stroking her hair. He moved his lips to her forehead, kissing gently and moving across her hair and down her cheeks. His gentle touches seemed to draw the fear from her. First in a trickle, then in a surge, breaking through the barriers in a flood of heart-wrenching tears.
When at last she could speak, she looked up at him.
“He’s dead? Was it me? Did I kill him?” she whispered.
He cradled her gently. “You did, my darling. You were so brave. You saved the life of our child.”
She lifted her eyes to his, comprehension dawning. “Yes. I had no choice. He would have killed me. And our child.” She pulled him into her, clutching his broad back and her shaking body calmed with the steady rise and fall of his breath.
This she could accept. A mother protects her child no matter the cost. The scars of her ordeal were deep and raw but her child was safe. The memory would stay but the nightmare would ease and in its place was the knowledge she had defended herself and taken a corrupt, violent life to protect a helpless, innocent one.
The room was filled with the shadows of night when next she opened her eyes. Electra fingered the feather-softness of the quilt around her shoulders and followed the salt trail of tears down the sides of her face. William had gone but she had no memory of him leaving. A lightness she hadn’t felt for weeks, perhaps months coursed through her. Her stomach rumbled. It seemed her appetite had returned. She pushed back the quilt and rearranging the pillows behind her head, shifted into a sitting position.
As if summoned, William walked through the door bearing a tray of hot stew and freshly baked bread. “I thought you might be hungry.” He placed the tray across her lap.
“It smells wonderful. Thank you.” She looked up at him. There was so much unfinished between them, so much still to say. But the herby smell of the stew demanded her attention. William mo
ved away and sat at the small table by the window while she ate.
Sighing with contentment, she put down her fork and fell back on her pillows. It may have been her imagination but as William took the tray, a look of satisfaction seemed to flit across his face. She narrowed her eyes and then remembered the afternoon’s events.
“Just stop right there.” With one foot out the door, William stopped and slowly turned back to her. “Don’t think for a moment I’ve forgotten your carry-on with Caroline Cartel this afternoon. You might just regret me having my wits about me again,” she said, glaring at him.
He sighed, walked back and put the tray on the small table and sat next to her on the bed.
“It was nothing, Electra. I have no desire to pursue Caroline Cartel, nor does she have the desire to pursue me.” He reached for her and she slapped his hand away.
“Nothing? I was disgusted and humiliated by your behaviour.”
“Not to mention jealous,” he said, with a careful grin.
He thought it funny?
“As if I would bother with being jealous about you. A man I have married for convenience. Besides, one needs to be in love to be jealous and we have both certainly been clear about that.” She clasped her quivering lip between her teeth. As much as she knew she loved the insufferable cad, she would not demean herself by admitting it. Especially as he had never said as much to her.
William reached for her hand again. “Before you say another word, there are some things you need to know.”
She tried to interrupt but he held up his hand. “Uh … no, you will let me speak.” Her mouth closed with a snap. “First of all, your dear friend Susanna set the whole thing up this afternoon. Caroline and I were simply following a script — ”
“What? I can’t believe this — ”
“Will you please let me finish?” She pursed her lips and nodded. “As I was saying, I was desperate and sought Susanna’s help and she believed the only thing that would stir your blood was another woman setting her cap at me — ”
“Of all the egotistical, arrogant … mmph.” He clamped his hand across her mouth, refusing to remove it until she agreed to let him finish.
“Right. You may gurgle and splutter and protest, my dear but it was the one thing that worked when nothing else would and … ,” he seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. This was too much. She let her arms drop to her sides and closed her eyes. He grasped her arms.
“You don’t see the humour?” he asked gently.
She tried to move away from him but he had her arms firmly, “No. I fail to see any humour in your feeling clever because I inadvertently exposed my feelings for you.”
“I don’t feel clever, I feel flattered,” he said, still gripping her struggling arms.
“Let me go.” She tugged until he released her suddenly and she fell back on the bed. She drew herself back into a sitting position, trying to regain her dignity. And when she spoke her voice trembled with anger.
“William Radcliffe, you may be surprised to know that no wife yearns to know her husband feels only flattery when shown how much he is cared for.”
His patience seemed to snap and he jumped from the bed. “You think that’s all I feel about you?” He paced the floor. “You think I don’t happen to also love you?”
“How do I know?” she cried. “How do I know if you love me? You’ve never once told me.”
He rushed back to the bed and gripped her shoulders. Looking deep into her eyes, he growled, “I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved before. I love your fiery temper, I love your wonderful hair, I love your golden eyes, and, most of all, I love your courage and strength.” He released her and dropped his head into his hands. “When I thought I might lose you I was terrified. Then the thought of those animals touching you consumed me with rage. Enough to want to tear the country apart until I found you. I would have killed a hundred men if it meant protecting you. God, how can you not know I love you?”
Electra stared at him, speechless with disbelief. She drew in a deep breath as the full portent of his words moved effervescently through her body.
He raised his head. “Well, are you going to say something?”
She shook her head and as she lifted a hand to touch his cheek, she began to unbutton her gown with her other hand.
The only sounds in the room were the light slapping of a sheet of paper on the table, pestered by a cool breeze from the river and the rustle of fabric as clothes were discarded. A curtain billowed into the room, causing the single candle on the window ledge to falter and straighten … But the two figures naked on the bed saw nothing but each other as pale, delicate arms reached out to embrace strong sun-browned ones.
As the black night began to turn grey with the coming dawn, Electra gazed lovingly at the man who sprawled warm and heavy across her naked body. With the tip of her finger, she traced his solid, hard muscled arms and shoulders, careful of his injuries. She drew in a shallow breath that lifted his cheek on her bare breast and his hair was silky under her chin. A shiver ran through her body at the memory of his heat as he filled her and the fire in her body in response. His cheeks had been wet as trembling at his release, he pressed his forehead against hers and whispered, “I swear, I will love you until the day I die.”
He stirred, sensing she was awake and moved his hand onto her stomach.
“Mmm, I can feel my son’s heart beat. I think he’s saying good morning to his father,” he mumbled.
Electra chuckled. “Oh? And what makes you think it’s a boy?”
“Of course it’s a boy. I need a son and heir and someone to side with me against his mother. The next one can be a girl.”
“The next one? Do you actually think I’m going to let you do this again?”
“Well, if you’re not interested … ”
His hands were already trailing slowly down her body and she moved beneath him, her voice a low moan in response. Their bodies hummed with an urgency that would not be contained and as she abandoned herself to desire, she knew she had come home.
• • •
Rope nets filled with bales of wool swung from the docks onto the deck of the ship, balanced and lowered by seamen, their muscles bulging with the strain. The passengers had finished boarding and Isabele stood on tiptoe trying to get a last glimpse of her mother.
They had all come to farewell Charlotte with streamers and gifts. For Isabele’s sake, William wanted it to be a festive occasion. Molly Preston was there, with Annie and Marcus Holbourne flanking Isabele. The four had become firm friends and Marcus was never far from Isabele’s side.
Susanna and Percy Langley stood behind Electra, next to the MacDonalds.
Susanna bent to whisper in Electra’s ear. “I only came to make sure she left. But don’t tell Isabele.”
They both turned to look at the child who swallowed her tears and made a brave face.
Lord Baine’s marriage proposal was conditional on Charlotte being unencumbered. Charlotte did not hesitate to accept. After all, he was a marquesse and extremely wealthy. William had made it easy for her by offering to raise their daughter at Riverside.
A small hand slipped into Electra’s and she looked down at the top of Isabele’s silky black hair. Her heart contracted at the love she already felt for this child she had agreed to raise as her own. Charlotte had unknowingly given them the greatest gift possible.
Electra took a deep breath of the salty, pungent air. The last time she had stood on this dock she had been in chains, a convicted felon; her past in tatters and seven years of misery and hardship before her. At last, she was cleared of all charges and her uncle languished in Newgate Prison. So much had changed, most of it due to the man standing beside her. And now, even seventy-seven years would not be enough time.
William, sensing her attention, reached over to touch her arm, then lingered for the briefest of moments on the round protrusion under her skirt.
Isabele reached over to place her hand on
top of his. “Papa? I can’t wait for our baby to come.”
William smiled at them both. “No, little wombat, neither can I.”
About the Author
Joanna Lloyd was born in Papua New Guinea, moving to Sydney, Australia to attend high school. After thirteen years in Sydney, she gravitated to the tropics of Far North Queensland where she studied psychology, trained as a mediator and spent many years conducting workplace and family law mediations. She writes historical and contemporary fiction.
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