Lessons In Loving

by Peter McAra

  ‘Your wish is my command, oh Master.’

  As Kate considered Tom’s plan, she saw there might be a grain of sense in it. She must ignore the vicious little worm of jealousy now gnawing at her soul. And dedicate herself, heart and mind, to forgetting The Kiss. For now, struggle as she might, she couldn’t erase the memory. The handsome piece of manhood who sat opposite, making businesslike plans to court another woman, had kissed her a mere few hours before. The kiss had been sooo—Stop it! This second! she snapped to herself.

  ‘What do you think of Sydney?’ Tom asked, evidently changing the subject.

  ‘Well, I suppose I like it. I’ve lived there all my life.’ Contemplating the visit might distract Kate from the pain now smouldering inside her. ‘But I’d feel guilty. Taking a holiday at your expense.’

  ‘Do not fret, Governess.’ Tom grinned. ‘You’ll earn your keep.’ Kate sat back in her chair, still wrestling with the pros and cons.

  ‘Where else might we visit?’ Tom murmured. ‘Besides Sydney?’

  ‘Oh, the Blue Mountains, perhaps.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I believe there are several famous tourist attractions there, Kate. Have you heard of The Three Sisters?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Come, Kate. Surely you know by now that a well-brung-up gel shouldn’t say “yeah”?’

  Kate laughed. ‘Touché! You’re a fast learner, Tom. Before we leave, you’ll be teaching me.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Governess. And when will you be ready to leave?’

  ‘Well, whenever my master requires me. You, sir?’

  ‘Perhaps early April. Before we leave we shall find a pleasant place in Sydney to rent for the duration of the Barrington-Smythes’ visit. Then we must settle in, and make it ready for our guests. Assuming your ankle is healed by then.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be. But that’s barely two weeks away.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You won’t be ready.’ Kate gulped. ‘We haven’t scratched the surface of grammar yet. And as for literature …’

  ‘You can give me lessons on our days off in Sydney.’

  ‘Days off? You mean the days you’re not pursuing the lovely Laetitia?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll likely be doing most of my pursuing at night, anyway.’

  Something inside Kate prickled painfully. In the moments since Tom had suggested—no, ordered—that she join him on the visit to Sydney, she’d let herself dream of travelling with the handsome, amusing man whose company was always fun. Now she landed with a thud from a dreamy pink cloud onto the cold, hard floor of the real world. She’d simply have to learn to live with the bitter-sweetness of her circumstances. Her master had employed her to help him woo the lady of his dreams. She was his hired servant. She’d deliver the services he required, efficiently, dispassionately. Simple.

  ‘Mmm.’ Kate picked herself up from the metaphorical floor. ‘Very well then, sir. You are the master, I am the slave. Your wish is my command.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Kate. I’d much prefer that we work as a team.’

  ‘Oh, I understand. We’re a team, out to win. Win the lovely Laetitia.’

  ‘Yes. Couldn’t have said it better myself.’

  ‘Very well. But you’ll have to give your grammar homework absolute priority from now until we leave.’

  ‘Don’t I always?’

  ‘Indeed. But I’m expecting we’ll meet more distractions when we visit Laetitia.’

  ‘Distractions? Like what?’

  ‘Shall we leave nature to take its course, sir?’ Kate needn’t wander into the detail of what would very likely happen between a romantically inclined couple after an evening together.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Be packed and ready to leave on the morning of the second of April, Kate. Ah Foo will take us to the station.’

  ‘As I said already, your wish is my command, sir. I suppose I can buy clothes in Sydney?’

  ‘Indeed. Let’s go to Sydney a day earlier. Give you time to shop for clothes and such. Buy yourself lots of dresses, shoes, whatever girls’ toys you fancy. Everything you need will be billed to my account. You must be dressed appropriately while I’m … er … attending to business.’

  ***

  Within a few days, Kate’s ankle had almost healed. She’d read that swimming was good exercise for healing joints. Was there a place near Kenilworth a woman could swim? Perhaps a dam or a creek? She asked Tom one afternoon.

  ‘There is a place. My mother used to call it Ye Olde Swimming Hole. But first, will you let me examine your ankle? I’ve had a little experience with sprained ankles in my time. Some coaching from our friendly doctor, Harry. It helps to tell a sprain from a fracture when you’re managing a team of blokes. The doctor lives three hours’ ride away, don’t forget.’ Kate trusted Tom, and the kindly doctor. She sat on her chair and pulled off her shoes.

  ‘Would you mind putting your foot on the table? So a bloke can take a proper look at it?’

  Kate winced at the prospect. Her skirt was respectably long. But putting a foot on the table, as she sat on a chair? Draping her skirt carefully, she obeyed, watching Tom’s eyes, wanting to see if they might stray.

  ‘Mmm. It looks rather swollen,’ he said. ‘Mind if I run a finger over it?’

  ‘Very well, doctor,’ she said, still watching him. In an instant, he became a professionally dispassionate physician, entirely focused on her ankle. She felt his fingers slide gently over her skin.

  ‘I’m going to press a little bit here and there. Tell me if it hurts.’

  ‘Please do,’ she said, enjoying his touch. He began to give her foot the gentlest of massages, flexing each toe, then working up towards the ankle.

  ‘Does that hurt?’

  ‘No, doctor.’

  ‘I’ll just try this.’ He flexed her ankle as the doctor had done at the ball. She’d almost screamed with pain at the time. Now she felt a mild twinge, nothing more.

  ‘How did that feel?’

  ‘The merest tickle. Absolutely nothing of consequence.’

  ‘Mmm. It’s still a little swollen. But you say it doesn’t hurt?’

  ‘It’s perfectly painless, thank you, doctor.’ A pity. She could survive another hour or three of Tom’s gentle massage.

  ‘Good.’ He stepped back. ‘Let me take you on a little walk. No climbing. A perfectly smooth path. With the swimming pool at the end. It might be a pleasant surprise for you.’ Kate knew yet again that Tom’s heart was in the right place.

  ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘But we can’t go now. It’s nearly four o’clock. Time for lessons. Today I want to do more on personal pronouns. Tell me when you’d like to—’

  ‘Now.’ A sneaky grin spread across his face. ‘Put your boots on, then meet me outside. I’ll catch up on my lesson later. Promise.’

  When Kate met Tom at the bottom of the Big House stairs, she found him dressed in short-sleeved shirt and shorts. He wore a bulging haversack and a mysterious grin. She looked at the horizon. The day was still warm. There’d be sun for another hour or two.

  ‘I hope it’s not far,’ she said, still puzzled by his grin.

  ‘It’s nothing. All downhill.’

  ‘And coming back?’

  ‘It’ll be good for you. Let’s head off now.’

  ‘What’s in your haversack?’

  ‘Oh, just some stuff. Stuff we might need.’

  ‘Perhaps you mean drinks? Food?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  He led her across the slope to a grove of trees nestled in a valley. As they followed the picturesque path, her nerves prickled. So far, Tom had been decent—a real gentleman. Or should that be country gentleman? What on earth could he be hiding from her? The trees clustered closer together, creating deep shade. Soon they walked through a narrow cleft between two boulders. At the edge of a nearby strip of sand—a miniature beach—a sheet of water gleamed before them, calm, dark. Its beauty took her breath away.

  ‘Ye Olde Swimming Hole.’ He w
aved an arm. ‘We used to spend all summer on this little beach, give or take the odd rainy afternoon. It was wonderful on hot days. My mother taught me to swim here.’ He hesitated.

  Whenever the subject of his mother came up, he seemed to lose himself in memories. To give him space, Kate looked away.

  ‘So now we swim,’ he said a second later.’ Excellent exercise for your ankle.’

  ‘We swim? I thought you’d be a gentleman. Leave me to my own devices,’ Kate said, shivering with unease. Indeed, she’d swum naked before. But not in a place like this, a million miles away from civilisation, and not with a probably soon-to-be-naked Hercules. A Hercules who might see this little jaunt as a way of seducing her. Her friend Susan had told her men could be like that. Always friendly, easy, well behaved, scrubbed and groomed. Then one day, or more likely one night, when a girl least suspected it …

  With no warning, a side of her personality she’d kept sedated for weeks woke from its long sleep. Suddenly she’d become a dark-eyed seductress, hungry for love. Yet again, the forbidden memory of Tom’s stolen kiss popped back into her consciousness. If she exposed a glimpse of flesh in his direction, would he fall into her arms? She smacked that wicked sprite, pushed it back into its box. She was a governess. And governesses didn’t even think of such things.

  Tom fumbled in the haversack, pulled out a towel and swimming costume.

  ‘I’ll just whip behind this rock and change. You take that other rock.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Here. Everything you need.’ He threw the haversack to her, then disappeared. She pulled out a towel, then a neck-to-knee costume—black, opaque.

  ‘My mother’s things,’ he called from behind his rock. ‘She was rather conservative in the bathing costume department.’

  Seconds later, he sprinted across the sand in his costume, then dived into the glassy lake with a boyish whoop. She watched as he powered across the water. He reached the far side, climbed onto a convenient rock, and braced himself to dive again.

  ‘Come join me,’ he yelled. ‘You’ll love it.’ He stood still, poised, then dived. Kate breathed easier. She took the moment to admire his gleaming wet body. A deep tan covered his muscled shoulders, his taut stomach. It had been too long since her last sighting of his statuesque masculine shape. As she watched, he waved, whooped, and dived.

  Her nerves settling minute by minute, Kate stepped behind her rock, pulled on the ancient costume, checking for moth holes. It seemed to be whole. And like the ball gown she’d chosen from Tom’s mother’s wardrobe, it fitted well enough. She minced across the sand and tiptoed into the water until she stood waist deep. It was cool, enticing. She looked down and saw her legs, white in the clear water. Tom was still the honest, decent man she’d come to like. She could enjoy herself. And yes, it was time she exercised her ankle. Cautious at first, she swam out into the deep. She lay on her back and gazed up at the canopy of trees arching over the water. A white cockatoo squawked, fluttered overhead. As she reached the other side, Tom beckoned, stepped down to the water’s edge.

  ‘Give me your hand. It’s steep there. We must take care of your ankle.’ He leaned down from the rock and took her outstretched hand. She remembered the warm sandpapery feel from other times their fingers had brushed accidentally. She liked it when they touched. This time it was more intimate, more friendly, than their occasional brushings in kitchen or study.

  ‘Easier this way,’ he said, flicking her onto the rock as if she weighed no more than a rose petal. ‘Now you can dive. It’s perfectly safe.’

  His eyes swept her body as she stood close to him on the big round boulder. She was glad of that. From the first moment they’d met, he’d been at ease whenever he looked her over. He was a man, and with the solitary life he led, he didn’t have opportunities to see many women up close. And now, a woman rather less clad than usual, and close to him. She shook the water from her body. Sure enough, his eyes swept over the swell of her breasts under her costume. And, Kate admitted, she enjoyed the gaze of those admiring male eyes.

  ‘Race you back to the beach,’ he said, grinning.

  ‘I …’ For the moment, she didn’t wish to race anywhere.

  ‘Go on. I’ll give you a three-second start.’ Suddenly he stepped behind her, pushed her shoulders. She toppled into the water.

  ‘Go,’ he shouted down to her. ‘Three—two—one!’

  He dived in beside her and ploughed through the water. Now he was all dominant male, proud, strong, flaunting his body to any female who’d watch. She thought of a strutting peacock flexing its tail as it stood on a rock in the forest, squawking an invitation to any nearby female. She’d never before seen Tom display his maleness so unashamedly. What had come over him? As she made her first strokes, he sprinted up the sandy beach, waving his arms high and laughing.

  ‘I won,’ he shouted.

  ‘Only because I wasn’t trying,’ she called, choosing to share the joke.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘No more races. Mustn’t let you beat me.’

  ‘Smart fellow,’ she countered, and lay back in the water, backstroking out to the middle of the lake.

  ‘We should head home in five minutes,’ he said as she stepped from the water. ‘Personal pronouns, remember?’

  The old Tom, focused and organised, was back. A pity. Kate’s mind took over. What might have happened if there’d been no Laetitia? Would they have lain on their towels on the little beach, close, relaxed? Would he have reached an exploring hand towards her? She sighed. Nothing would happen that afternoon. Not while Laetitia’s ghost hovered between them.

  Dried and changed into their workaday outfits, they set out for the Big House. He walked fast, silent, a few paces ahead of her. He must be thinking about something he didn’t choose to share.

  ‘A question, Kate, if I may,’ he said eventually.

  ‘Very well,’ she murmured. He’d stayed silent, evidently deep in thought, ever since they’d left the pool. This question must have been simmering in his mind for a while. What would it be?

  ‘Do you think Laetitia would like the swimming hole?’

  Kate sighed. So the whole exercise had been for Laetitia’s benefit. He’d simply used Kate as a swimming guinea pig. She must now dispose of any thoughts that he might have wanted to be closer to her, to have her peel off layers in more ways than one.

  ‘If she doesn’t absolutely love it, she’s too pompous for you, Tom.’ Kate laughed to signal she wasn’t serious. It seemed to her that whenever he allowed space in his mind for women, Laetitia took it over like a whale swimming amongst a cluster of sardines. During their time at the swimming hole, Kate had let herself toy with the naughty notion that for perhaps a moment or two, he might see her as something more than his governess. Now she’d received the latest in a string of painful reminders that it wasn’t going to happen.

  ‘Mmm. Thank you for the information, Miss Courtney,’ he murmured. They finished the walk to the house in silence.

  CHAPTER 10

  The silent Ah Foo eased the wagon to a stop beside the goods shed at the Armidale station. Tom slid from the seat, held out a hand to Kate. She ignored it, slid down by herself. It was time to show Tom she didn’t need him. She followed him into the shed. There, gleaming in the semi-dark, stood an ornate railway carriage.

  ‘Your carriage, Princess Kate.’ Tom laughed as he swept his arm toward it. She ogled in disbelief.

  ‘Why, it’s exactly like the carriage Prince George rode in last year.’ She recalled the much-vaunted royal visit, when the son of the heir apparent to the English throne had visited Australia, travelling across the country in his own special train. ‘I saw him wave from his carriage when the train made a whistlestop at Redfern station,’ she recalled. ‘Smiling, waving the royal hand so royally. And now, this carriage?’

  ‘Nothing so special.’ Tom laughed. ‘My father thought he might tempt his English rose wife to travel more often if he bought her an elegant carriage. So he co
mmissioned it. Not that she rode in it many times. But I remember our journeys to Sydney. They were fun.’

  They stepped inside the carriage, walked the corridor. A string of closed doors lined one side. As he opened a door, she looked in on a roomy bedchamber, complete with sideboard, and an internal door which she presumed led to a private bathroom.

  ‘Ten sleeping cabins,’ he said as he gestured. ‘Plus a dining room at the end. Is it queenly enough for you, Your Highness?’

  ‘Indeed it is.’ She struggled to recover from her open-mouthed amazement.

  ‘Good. I’ll have Ah Foo put your luggage in the end room—it’s the biggest. And I’ll be at the other end, so you won’t hear my snores.’

  As she watched her luggage being deposited, he waved.

  ‘I must see the stationmaster. Tell him to organise the necessaries for tomorrow’s Sydney train. It leaves around four in the afternoon. We stay tonight at the Station Hotel.’

  ***

  The train pulled into Sydney’s Central Station mid morning on a sunny autumn day. A waiter had served an appropriately complex breakfast, from treacle porridge to lemon tea, shuttling to and fro from the dining car. By the time the train pulled in to its destination, Kate had adapted to the royal lifestyle. As she told Tom over breakfast, it was a somewhat different experience from her second-class trip to Kenilworth for her interview with the mysterious Mr Fortescue.

  Their hansom cab pulled up outside an elegant house a couple of miles east of the station.

  ‘Welcome to Melton Lodge, Kate.’ Tom opened the front gate with a key he’d magically acquired, and waved Kate towards the front door. ‘I stay here when I have business in Sydney. Unobtrusive staff, adequate space, conveniently close to transport and the city.’

  ‘And beautiful,’ Kate breathed, taking in the mansion’s ornate frontage as they stood outside the huge front door.

  ‘I rented the place for a month, just in case,’ Tom said as he escorted her up the stairs. ‘One never knows with ladies.’

  Kate didn’t ask for details. As far as she understood, the English visitors might explore Sydney for a week or two, then travel to Kenilworth. What might happen then, she didn’t dare imagine.