by Anna Jacobs
‘Oh, you are a fool!’ he muttered and the reflection nodded agreement.
Livia was taking him up to Perth today to see the bookshop she was so fond of, where she actually worked one day a week. What other lady would smile about serving in a bookshop, or be so frank about her strained finances?
He rubbed his whiskery chin. Grey hairs were showing clearly there too. Why did they look so much worse on the chin? He needed some hot water to shave them off before she saw him.
There was a knock on the door and when he opened it, he found Orla holding a steaming ewer.
‘I thought you’d need to wash and shave, sir.’
‘I do. Thank you.’ He opened the door wider, intending to take the ewer from her.
She walked past him, not smiling, to set the ewer down on his washstand. She inclined her head in a regal way when he thanked her, which would have earned a maid instant dismissal in his uncle’s house, but which tickled his sense of the ridiculous.
Was this how Australian maids behaved? Or was Orla particularly independent? Livia had said the two maids were more like aunts to her.
He closed the door and concentrated on shaving himself carefully. He mustn’t nick his skin today.
When he was ready, he carried his slop bucket to the kitchen before he went into the small dining room.
Orla looked at him in surprise. ‘You didn’t need to do that, sir. It’s my job to collect it.’
‘You have enough to do without running round after me.’
‘Oh. Well, thank you. It’s very thoughtful of you.’
Her voice wasn’t quite as sharp this time, he thought, as he turned to seek Livia and his breakfast.
She was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea, looking as bright and alert as a small bird. The room was full of sunlight and so was her smile. Oh, he was being fanciful again!
She put the cup down. ‘Did you sleep well?’
And as he saw her smiling at him, haloed by sunshine, he blurted it all out, like a young fool who didn’t know better, ‘No. I slept badly. I was thinking about you.’
She had started to raise her cup again, but paused with it halfway to her mouth, looking at him in astonishment.
Since he’d started, Rémi went on. ‘Do you feel it too, the attraction between us? Or am I fooling myself?’
She flushed slightly, then put the cup carefully back onto the saucer, before giving him back stare for stare. ‘Yes. I do feel it. You’re not fooling yourself.’
Something inside him felt instantly warmer and happier. ‘I’ve never felt this way for a woman before,’ he confessed. ‘I thought I wasn’t the marrying kind.’
She gasped at that word. ‘Marrying kind?’
He nodded. ‘It’s the only way I can think of you, Livia. You’re not the sort to become a man’s mistress.’
‘No. I’d not do that.’
‘How can that have happened so quickly? One afternoon’s acquaintance, one evening’s chatting.’
‘We did stay up rather late, though. My maids scolded me for it this morning. We spent five hours alone together, which would add up to several polite tea parties or morning calls, don’t you think?’
‘Definitely. A dozen tea parties, at least, when you consider how little of interest is actually said at them.’ He chuckled. ‘I received a very cool stare from Orla this morning.’
Livia bent her head for a moment as if thinking about something, then raised it again to say, in that same frank way that had captivated Rémi the previous evening, ‘I felt an almost immediate attraction to my first husband, so I understand that this sort of thing can happen quickly. Apart from him, you’re the only other man I’ve felt like that about in my whole life.’
He found himself smiling foolishly at her. But she was smiling back, so that was all right. He loved her smile. ‘Will you be happy to pursue our acquaintance, then, Livia, and see where it leads? I’d certainly like to.’
She nodded, then smiled, such a triumphant smile he had to ask why.
‘I knew I was right to wait.’
‘Wait for what?’ He was completely lost now.
‘Orla and Rhoda have been trying to marry me off for years. But I didn’t meet anyone I could feel for, not in that way. So I waited.’
‘Ah. I understand now. I’ve never felt inclined to marry anyone. But I was too stupid to know why. So we’ll spend more time together, see where our relationship leads?’
‘Yes. We need to find out if our feelings seem likely to last.’
‘They’ll last,’ he said confidently and pulled her to her feet, kissing her before she had time to do more than squeak in surprise.
As he drew back a little, she flung her arms round his neck and kissed him back.
There was a shout behind them and something thudded down on his head.
He yelled in shock and pain, staggering to one side, feeling dizzy for a moment.
Livia pushed past him, standing between him and whoever had attacked him. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, Rhoda?’
‘Saving you from that … that wolf in sheep’s clothing!’ Rhoda lowered the umbrella she must have picked up from the hall stand and glared at him.
‘Well, I don’t need saving, thank you very much, and you owe Mr Newland an apology.’
‘But he was—’
‘Kissing me. I know. And I was enjoying it, too. Didn’t you see that I was kissing him back?’
‘Mrs Southerham! You hardly know him.’
‘I know myself, know how I feel.’
Rémi put his arm round Livia’s shoulders. His head was still hurting where the umbrella handle had whacked it, but he was finding this situation amusing. He couldn’t resist saying, ‘You may be the first to congratulate us, Rhoda.’
Her mouth fell open and she gaped at them both.
‘You can’t be … you’re not—’
Livia’s elbow jabbed into his ribs. ‘Behave yourself!’ she hissed.
‘Your mistress has agreed to let me, um, court her,’ he said quickly
Livia looked at Rhoda and said firmly, ‘But you’re not to tell anyone, Rhoda. Except Orla, of course. It won’t look right if we say we’re courting while Mr Newland is still living here.’
‘But how can you say that so soon after meeting him? You don’t know him yet.’
‘Because it happened that way with my first husband.’ Livia linked her arm in Rémi’s, gave him a mischievous grin, and waited.
‘Oh. I see. Well, I’ll … um, leave you to have your breakfast then, ma’am, and I’m sorry if I hurt you, Mr Newland.’ But Rhoda didn’t look sorry as she whisked quickly out of the room; she looked shocked. And suspicious.
‘Drat!’ Livia said as the door closed behind her maid. ‘I didn’t mean to tell them about us yet, because I’m sure neither of them believes in love at first sight.’ She looked up at him a little shyly. ‘Am I pushing you along too quickly, Rémi?’
He didn’t even have to think about it. ‘No. I feel as though I’m the one pushing you. I didn’t believe in love at first sight before, either, but I do now.’
Livia stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, then glanced at the clock. ‘We have to leave shortly. The ferry to Perth waits for no man. And perhaps it’s as well. That’s enough about our relationship for today, don’t you think?’
But her smile seemed to be glowing with happiness as they walked together to the ferry and he couldn’t stop smiling either, and touching the small hand that rested so trustingly on his arm.
They chatted in the same comfortable manner as the small paddle steamer chugged up the river to Perth and not once was there an awkward silence.
His mother would have said this was meant to be, in which case, Rémi didn’t know who had organised it. God presumably. More likely, blind chance. But Rémi was grateful that it had happened. Very grateful.
It must have been about ten miles to Perth, perhaps a little less. The water widened and narrowed, overlooked by the occasi
onal dwelling or low headland. The foliage on either side of the river was dusty looking after the long dry summer, and although it was now autumn, it was quite hot still.
When they got off the ferry, Rémi stopped to stare. Perth didn’t look like the capital city of anywhere to him. Most of the buildings were quite low, many of them built of wood, with an occasional larger stone building standing out awkwardly, as if unsure of its place in the world.
They had to walk up to the city centre from the river along a road made of loose sand. Could they not pave their city streets here, for heaven’s sake?
Livia pointed out the main buildings: the new Town Hall, St George’s Cathedral and others whose names passed in and out of his mind.
He was most interested in the Mechanics’ Institute and promised himself to join once he was settled – if he liked the atmosphere and if he settled in Perth instead of Fremantle. The better mechanics’ institutes catered for young men of the middle classes as well as working-class men, offering all sorts of interesting lectures and activities. However, in some mechanics’ institutes, the middle classes had taken over and could be very condescending towards working men and he wasn’t going to support that attitude.
So many decisions to make in his new life. So many things to learn.
And Livia. He glanced sideways and smiled at her.
He was sorry when they arrived at their destination and had to stop chatting. The bookshop wasn’t large, and Mr Deeping looked ill and tired.
‘Dear Livia, I’m so glad to see you.’
‘You don’t look at all well today, my friend.’
‘I’m not. I’ve been feeling worse by the day. I’m afraid I can’t go on working any longer; I shall have to sell this place. The gentleman who was interested has made me a tentative offer, a good one. But he doesn’t intend to keep the bookshop going.’
She went to lay one hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry for that. Where shall you live?’
‘I haven’t decided yet. I hadn’t thought of moving out of my home. I wanted to live out my days here. But of course, I shall have to leave when I sell.’
She patted his hand. ‘Wherever you are, I’ll come and visit you and talk your ears off, as usual.’
He smiled at her like a fond uncle. ‘I shall appreciate that. Now, I’ll leave you and your new friend to look round and see if there are any books you fancy. Then you can keep an eye on the shop for the rest of the day, if you don’t mind. I have to rest. Just come upstairs if you need anything. I’ll be in my sitting room. I love to watch people passing by in the street below.’
Once he’d gone, Rémi looked at her for enlightenment.
‘Mr Deeping owns the whole building,’ she explained. ‘He lives above the shop and rents out a further dwelling that’s built on the back. It’s no wonder someone wants to buy the place, but oh dear, I don’t know what I’ll do without somewhere to buy books.’ She sighed. ‘I’d buy this shop myself if I could afford it.’
‘Would you?’ He hesitated, looking round again. ‘Do you know how much he’s asking for it?’
‘No. It didn’t seem worth asking, since I’m quite certain I haven’t got enough money.’
‘I might have enough, though.’
She gaped at him. ‘It wouldn’t be a good investment, Rémi. Bookshops don’t make people’s fortunes, or even give them a good living by other men’s standards.’
‘I might make a better living from a bookshop than Mr Deeping has done, though.’
He walked slowly round the walls, which were all covered in bookshelves. Some of the books were leaning against one another, as if for support, others were in irregular columns on the shelves. Piles of shabbier books were set here and there on the floor, as if they’d been put down in a hurry and forgotten about.
There was dust everywhere and cobwebs high up in corners. Another woman might have dusted the place for Mr Deeping while she was working there, but Livia had already picked up a book and was reading it like a ravenous person given food. Rémi carried on walking round.
‘Modern bookshops are usually much better organised than this,’ he said when he came back to her side. ‘I should know. I’ve spent enough hours browsing through their offerings.’
He walked across to the rear of the little counter, and tsk-tsked at the mess behind it, then looked at her over the dusty expanse of wood. ‘I know a lot of people in the publishing industry in England. My uncle ridiculed me about wasting my time on books, but perhaps it wasn’t a waste of time. Perhaps fate was preparing me to sell books in Australia. I’m sure my friends would supply me with what I need and keep me up to date.’
He took her hands and drew her towards him, so that they were both leaning against the wall, out of sight of the passers-by. ‘Livia, if we marry, would you be happy living here, running a bookshop together?’
‘I’d be very happy, if …’
As she hesitated, he asked, ‘If what? We must be absolutely honest with one another about something as important as our future lives. We may be rushing into this, but we shouldn’t rush blindly. ’
‘Well, then, as long as you show a businesslike attitude towards selling books. Poor Francis, my first husband, lost money in one business project after another, and he would never listen to my doubts, though even I, impractical as I am, could see that he was making a mistake with some of them. I’d not want to get into that situation again. Married women are so helpless financially.’
‘You wouldn’t be helpless with me. Anyway, I’d expect us to organise the business together. You’re an intelligent, modern woman and this is the 1870s not the 1820s. I’m sure you’d be an asset to the shop, because you love books. When we marry …’
‘If we marry.’
‘When.’ He gave her a glorious smile. ‘Every minute with you makes me more certain of it. It feels so right between us.’ He held up one hand to prevent her speaking. ‘I know. We won’t tell people how we feel quite yet. They won’t understand how quickly it can happen. I didn’t, before I met you.’
He let go of her other hand and stepped back. ‘I’ll go up and see that nice old man about buying this place.’
‘I’ll come with you. Oh, no. Here’s a customer.’
‘Do you want me to wait for you?’
She flapped her hand at him, shaking her head, and turned to greet the customer by name.
When she’d finally finished serving the lady, which took longer than she’d expected, she turned to see Rémi standing near the rear door of the shop. His shoulders were sagging and his whole body told her he’d failed to buy the shop before he even spoke.
‘Mr Deeping has already been offered more money for the building than I can afford. He said he’d sell it to me for the same amount, but I simply don’t have that much money, Livia. And I doubt any bank would lend it to me, a man who’s only just arrived, a remittance man.’
‘Oh, dear.’
‘I’m sorry. I think I was trying to fly before I walked. I should have realised prices wouldn’t necessarily be that much cheaper here.’
‘Never mind. We’ll think of something else to do with our lives.’ She might have fallen head over heels in love with him, but she’d not risk contributing her meagre capital until she knew Rémi a lot better.
But poor Mr Deeping couldn’t afford to wait. He looked dreadfully weak today. She was bitterly disappointed, though, and she could see that Rémi was, too.
Perhaps they were both trying to fly before they walked, about their relationship as well. No, that was right. She was sure of it.
When she went up to take Mr Deeping something to eat, he asked her to close the shop earlier than usual and apologised for not being able to help her.
‘I dare not accept less money than that.’
‘You have to make sure you have enough money to care for yourself at this time in your life,’ she said. ‘We do understand.’
‘I like your young man.’
She gave him a wry smile. ‘He’s not so young
, and neither am I.’
‘You both seem young to me. Look, I wonder if you’d mind calling in at my lawyer’s rooms on your way back to the ferry and giving him this.’ He handed her a sealed envelope. ‘It’s on your way.’
‘Of course. Do you need me tomorrow or will you be all right?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
But he didn’t look fine and that made her feel sad.
23
Bram let Isabella take their female visitors and the two boys to have a look round Fremantle town centre while he checked things at the Bazaar. There were always jobs to do, people to serve, sellers to haggle with.
Today a woman came in, and when she lifted her widow’s veil, he could see that she’d been weeping. She wanted him to buy her household possessions because her husband had died and she needed enough money to take herself and her small daughter back to her family in England. The furniture wasn’t very good, but he didn’t haggle. He paid her enough to buy them both steerage passages, with a little left over, then lent her his handkerchief while she shed tears of sheer relief.
When she’d left, he sat down, then a noise made him look up to see Fergus standing at the entrance to the rear part of the shop. Clearly his brother had been listening to his conversation with the woman.
‘Her furniture wasn’t worth that much, Bram, not if the prices on your other items are correct.’
He shrugged, feeling embarrassed at being caught in an act of charity. ‘She was in trouble. We all need a helping hand sometimes.’
‘That was kind. Who helped you along your way? Or didn’t you need help?’
He frowned at his brother’s slightly jeering tone. ‘Oh, I needed it all right. Ronan Maguire brought me to Australia after Mrs Largan dismissed me on a whim. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. She’d told me that if I ever went back to Shilmara, she’d throw our parents out of their home, you see.’
‘What? That’s shocking! She must have been a cruel woman. I never had much to do with her.’