Opal sank back into her seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. She had never been left truly alone with Henry before and after hearing what Cook thought Henry’s intentions were, she was suddenly nervous.
‘I’ll just throw a bit more coal on the fire, shall I?’ Henry said cheerfully when his mother had left. ‘I don’t want you getting cold.’
She watched him as he stoked the fire and then her heart missed a beat when he said, ‘Actually, I’m glad of this chance to have you to myself for a time, because there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you.’
Opal squirmed in her seat, but remained silent as he came and sat uncomfortably close to her on the sofa. ‘First of all, I just want to say how proud I was of you last night,’ he began. ‘I have no doubt I was the envy of every man at the ball when I walked in with you on my arm, and you conducted yourself like a true lady, my dear.’
Opal licked her suddenly dry lips. She didn’t like the way the conversation was going at all, but she didn’t know how to stop it.
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he stared into the flames, wondering how she was going to react to what he was going to say next.
‘I know you are only eighteen and I am double your age, but I have to tell you that since the day I met you I have been very taken with you, my dear.’
Opal gulped and blinked rapidly, wishing she was a million miles away.
‘I-I am very fond of you too, Mr King, you have been very kind to me,’ she muttered, which made him frown and wave his hand.
‘I have asked you before . . . please, call me Henry!’
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, as she gripped her hands together and pressed them tightly into her waist.
He coughed and went on haltingly, ‘The thing is, Opal . . . I am more than a little fond of you. So much so that I would like to ask you to be my wife.’ Suddenly he dropped down to one knee in front of her and her eyes stretched wide with panic. ‘Please don’t be afraid,’ he pleaded. ‘I truly have only the best of intentions towards you. Think of it . . . as my wife, you would want for nothing. I shall take you all over the world, wherever you wish to go, and you will dress in the latest fashions. You will never have to work again, and you will have servants to wait on you.’
Her head was wagging from side to side now as she tried to think how she might turn him down without hurting his feelings. What she had said was true; she had grown fond of him, but the problem was she didn’t love him. Suddenly, a saying of her mother’s popped into her head, ‘Tell the truth and shame the devil!’ And so, taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I am truly flattered that you should ask me, Mr . . . er, Henry. You are a lovely man and you have shown me nothing but kindness, for which I am truly grateful . . . but the thing is, it wouldn’t be fair of me to marry you. You see . . . I am fond of you, but I don’t love you, not in the way a wife should love her husband, and I think you deserve a woman who will. Perhaps someone like Miss Partridge, who clearly has feelings for you?’
‘Pah!’ He grunted. ‘I’m sure you are mistaken, and even if you weren’t I wouldn’t look at that shrivelled-up old spinster if she were the last woman left on earth. Without wishing to sound cruel, I believe Esther would marry anyone who was brave enough to ask her. And as for your feelings – love will come in time. Fondness is a good place to start to my way of thinking . . . I do realise that this proposal may have come as somewhat of a shock to you and I also realise that you may need some time to think about it. So . . . would you at least consider it and not dismiss me out of hand?’
‘But the thing is . . .’ She hesitated before rushing on. ‘I still have a family somewhere, Henry. One day, when he has finished his sentence, Charlie will come home and I still have to find Susie.’
‘I can understand that, and I assure you I am still doing my best to trace them for you. But even if Charlie does come home and we find your little sister, it need make no difference to us. They would come and join us in my home and be part of our family. So, I ask you again . . . will you please just consider my proposal?’
‘Yes . . . yes I will consider it,’ she told him gently, but deep inside she very much doubted that she would change her mind.
Chapter Twenty-Four
At the governor’s residence everything was hustle and bustle as the staff worked to get ready for the annual New Year’s Eve ball that night.
Things had improved vastly for Charlie since he had started working there. He no longer lived in the small shack tucked away in a corner of the garden, but now had his own room up in the servants’ quarters of the house.
It had been another strange Christmas for him. They were now at the peak of summer and the heat was almost unbearable, as were the flies and mosquitoes that came with it. And yet, being British-born, the governor still strived to celebrate a traditional English Christmas. A huge tree had been erected and decorated with tiny candles and baubles in the entrance foyer, but because of the heat it had instantly begun to shed its needles – much to the annoyance of the maids, who were forever sweeping up – and within a week it was drooping.
Charlie and the other staff had been allowed down to the beach on Christmas Day after dinner to swim in the azure-blue sea, although Charlie had been warned not to swim out too far – the place was a favourite with sharks and many people had lost their lives there. After the snowy Christmases of days gone by, Charlie had struggled to adapt and even sometimes missed the cold. At least when you were cold you could huddle in a blanket, but here there was no escaping from the heat and humidity, and it was draining.
He pitied the men who worked on the roads, for they had no respite whatsoever from it, and were expected to work from morning till evening beneath the burning sun with nothing but dry bread and water to sustain them. Still, at least the governor had declared that Christmas Day and New Year ’s Day were to be holidays for all, although Charlie doubted they would have found much comfort in the huts they were forced to live in. Every day he thanked God that he hadn’t been sent to the prisons and he showed the governor his gratitude by working hard. He had completely updated the filing system so he could put his hand on each convict’s file in seconds should it be necessary, and there were no longer teetering piles of paperwork all over the office. Charlie was proud to know that he was now the governor’s right-hand man.
The governor had been so pleased with his efforts that the year before he had allowed Charlie to sit in with Juliet and Francesca’s tutor for three hours each day to improve his mathematics. It had paid dividends and now, as well as keeping the files for the governor, Charlie was also able to keep a check on the household budget. On top of that, when there wasn’t a lot of paperwork to do, Charlie was still more than happy to get his hands dirty on manual jobs about the house, unless it needed a specific tradesman, and so all in all he was happy; or as happy as he could be while he waited for his freedom. But he still worried constantly about Opal and Susie, and prayed that they were faring well.
Today, he was on his way to help the male staff set out the large tables for the buffet that would be available to the guests that evening, and when he entered the dining room he found it in a state of organised chaos.
‘I think we should put the tables over there,’ a harassed-looking footman said, pointing to the wall by the door.
Charlie had other ideas. ‘Actually, if you put them down there on the far wall, you would leave the entrance to the room clear and there would still be space for the guests to mingle when they’ve helped themselves to the food,’ he suggested.
The footman, a middle-aged man with a rather pious attitude, stared about thoughtfully, before grudgingly having to admit that Charlie was right.
The staff in the kitchen had been working for days preparing the food, and delicious smells were floating around the house, making Charlie feel hungry as he pitched in to help get all the tables into position. They had no sooner finished than Isabella appeared with Frances
ca and Juliet close behind her.
‘Ah, very good,’ she said approvingly as she fanned herself with a pretty little fan that she had brought with her from Spain many years ago. Then, looking towards the maids, she told them, ‘Hurry and get the best linen tablecloths. We shall need to start bringing the food in soon if we are to be ready to receive our guests. And you, gentlemen’ – she smiled at the men – ‘perhaps you would be so good as to go and prepare the stage in the ballroom for the orchestra? There is still much to do, I’m afraid.’ She wandered away in that direction to supervise as Francesca caught up with Charlie.
‘You’re sweating,’ she said, laughing.
Charlie mopped his brow with the back of his hand and grinned. ‘So would you be; it’s hot work lugging heavy furniture about.’
The last year or so had wrought a great change in both of them. Charlie had thought Francesca was a pretty girl when he had first met her, but she had developed into a beautiful young woman. Her figure was curvy, her hair gleamed and she had a beautiful tanned complexion. He, too, had grown some inches and towered almost a head above her, and his once skinny frame was muscular and bronzed from the sunshine.
But for Francesca, growing up had brought with it its problems. Sometimes she missed having company of her own age, and she was aware that had her family still lived in London she would have been being introduced into society, whereas in the colony she had only the occasional ball to look forward to – and they were far too few and far between.
The governor was fiercely protective of both his daughters, although strangely he didn’t seem to mind Francesca associating with Charlie, but then Charlie realised this was probably because their meetings only ever took place in the house where they were always under scrutiny. Charlie accepted this. After all, he was still a convict, and it wouldn’t do at all for the governor’s daughter to be seen outside with the likes of him.
‘So, have you got a new gown for this evening?’ he asked.
She giggled prettily. ‘Yes, I have. Luckily the last convict ship delivered some wonderful bolts of material and some magazines with pictures of the latest London and Paris fashions in them.’ Her face became serious, and she sighed. ‘It seems that we may be returning to London soon. Apparently, there will not be any more convicts being shipped to New South Wales now, and once the ones that are here are freed, what will my father have to do? They will all be free men to make a life here or return home. Were you aware that they are to stop transporting convicts?’
‘Your father did mention it,’ he said, trying to keep his feelings from showing on his face. He hated the thought of not being able to see Francesca every day. And what would become of him if the governor left?
‘And what do you think of it?’
‘Well, obviously for convicts it will mean that if they are sentenced they will have to serve their time in English jails and, seeing as they’re already grossly overcrowded, I can see problems arising.’
They had reached the ballroom by that time and Francesca’s maid hurried over to her. ‘If we’re to bath you and wash your hair, you’d best come now, miss, else we’ll never have you ready in time.’
‘Very well, Gertie, thank you.’ She turned to Charlie. ‘I wish you were coming to the ball too, Charlie,’ she said with a smile, before following after her maid.
By the time the first guests were due to arrive, everything was ready and Charlie positioned himself on the landing, where he squatted down behind the balustrade to watch. In the ballroom the orchestra could be heard tuning their instruments and there was an air of excitement as maids dashed to and fro, looking smart in frilled white aprons with matching mop caps. He was so engrossed in watching what was going on that he jumped when he heard a slight cough behind him. He rose to his feet so quickly that he almost overbalanced and, whirling about, he found Francesca grinning at him.
The sight of her almost took his breath away. She always looked beautiful but this evening she was positively stunning and he was momentarily lost for words. Her hair was piled on top of her head in loose curls, which made her appear older, and the heavily embroidered cream satin gown she was wearing had an off-the-shoulder design that showed off her flawless skin to perfection.
‘How do I look?’ she asked teasingly as she gave him a little twirl, setting her satin skirt dancing.
Charlie nodded, unable to take his eyes off her. ‘You . . . you look . . . magnificent,’ he gasped, and a blush rose in her cheeks as he stared at her intently.
‘Why, thank you, kind sir.’ Her eyes twinkled as she smiled at him, but peeping over the balustrade she saw her mother and father standing in the foyer below greeting their first guests and she told him reluctantly, ‘I’m sorry, but I shall have to go and join them, Charlie.’ She paused as if there was something else she would have liked to say but then, thinking better of it, she flitted past him and glided down the stairs.
In no time at all, the governor’s residence seemed to be bulging at the seams and Charlie barely knew where to look first. Maids carrying silver trays loaded with sparkling glasses of champagne circled amongst the guests and the air was full of laughter and chatter.
Opal and Susie would have loved this, Charlie thought regretfully, as he followed Francesca’s progress. She seemed to have every young man there trailing behind her and he didn’t blame them in the least. She was easily the most beautiful girl in the place, although he noted that she didn’t seem to be paying particular attention to any one of them.
Eventually, the guests drifted towards the dining room, where the buffet had been laid out and Charlie slipped away to his attic room where he flung the window wide to stare down at the town with the sea sparkling beyond it. Suddenly, he had the urge to feel the cool water on his skin – so, snatching up a towel, he headed for the servants’ stairs and let himself out of the house. Shortly after he was walking through the throng of ramshackle buildings that made up the main street of the town and when he came to the beach he kicked off his shoes and strung them about his neck, relishing the feel of the soft, warm sand beneath his feet.
It was that special time between day and night, and he saw that there were some other young men slightly further along the beach, who clearly intended to swim as well. Glancing about to make sure there were no ladies to be seen, Charlie stripped down to his long johns and, after neatly folding his clothes, he headed for the surf.
He recognised one of the young men as the son of the deputy governor and wondered why he wasn’t at the ball. It seemed that everyone who was anyone was there, but the youth’s absence was explained when Charlie heard him tell his friends, ‘Why would anyone want to go to a stuffy old ball when he could be here enjoying himself?’ His comment was followed by guffaws of laughter as the young men hurtled into the sea.
Charlie had been gently swimming along the shoreline for some minutes when a commotion behind him made him glance over his shoulder.
‘Julian . . . look out . . . behind you!’ A shout went up and looking about Charlie saw that the young man was some way out in deep water. His friends were frantically swimming back towards the shore, choking and swallowing salt water in their haste to get back on the beach. And then Charlie realised why they were in a panic. Further out and heading straight towards the boy was a large black fin slicing through the water.
‘Julian, swim for, God’s sake! There’s a shark!’
The youth looked behind him and panicked when he saw the fin heading towards him. The fear took hold of him for a moment and he disappeared beneath the waves, only to come up seconds later splashing and screaming.
Without thinking, Charlie struck out in the youth’s direction, as the young men who were now all safely back on the beach shouted encouragement. In no time Charlie had reached him and, grasping Julian round the neck, he struck out for the shore, swimming for all he was worth as every hair on his body stood to attention. Every second he expected to feel the shark’s teeth sink into him, but he kept going as the
young men screamed encouragement.
And then, after what seemed like a lifetime, Charlie felt the sand beneath his feet and he dared to glance back over his shoulder, just in time to see the shark turn and, with a sharp flick of his tail, disappear beneath the waves.
Hauling the young man up the beach, Charlie dropped him unceremoniously on to the sand as he sank to his knees, trying to get his breath back.
‘Lord, that was a close call,’ one of the chaps exclaimed, as Julian coughed up salt water. Then, turning to Charlie he told him admiringly, ‘If it wasn’t for you, he’d have been a goner for sure then. Well done, mate.’
Charlie shrugged. As far as he was concerned, he had only done what anyone who was able to would have done. He was just thankful that things had turned out as they had and that he had learned to swim in the blue lagoon, a reservoir back in Nuneaton.
‘Perhaps it would be a good idea if you told your pal not to go so far out next time he decides to go for a swim,’ he suggested caustically. Shock was setting in now and Charlie was shivering uncontrollably as he rose and made his way to where he had left his clothes.
‘Th-thanks,’ Julian gasped. Then, as he looked at him properly for the first time, recognition flared in his eyes. ‘Aren’t you the chap that works for the governor?’
Charlie nodded as he pulled his shirt on. The last thing he wanted was for them to see the scars on his back.
‘Well . . . all I can say is thanks again.’ The young men watched Charlie walk back up the beach.
He was suddenly exhausted as what might have happened struck him and now all he wanted was his bed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Are you going to keep this sulking up for much longer?’ Matthew asked, as he gazed into Alicia’s dressing table mirror and straightened his tie.
The Winter Promise Page 18