by Peter McAra
‘Mmm. I’d say it won’t be long before Croydon Creek meets the new Mrs Fortescue.’
‘So soon. A whirlwind courtship, then?’
‘Apparently.’
‘I always thought Tom was a man who took his own sweet time.’
‘You haven’t met Laetitia.’
‘I imagine there’ll be a big country wedding in the family mansion in deepest Hampshire. Photographs in all the local newspapers.’
‘You’re probably right.’ As Kate’s mind took in the picture Rob had sketched, she felt the old familiar bite in her throat. This was definitely not a time for tears.
‘It seems you delivered according to the letter of your contract, Kate,’ Rob said. ‘But what of you? Now that you’ve finished your task?’
Kate bit her tongue. She mustn’t voice the thoughts that had burned in her brain all through the long train journey from Sydney. No, she must transport herself as far away as possible from Kenilworth, physically, mentally and emotionally. Forgetting Tom remained her first concern. And on no account must Tom ever discover where she had gone. She’d be cautious about any details she passed on to Rob.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Another teacher job, I expect.’ She sipped her tea, put down her cup slowly, carefully. ‘I’ll take the train back to Sydney. See what fate has in store when I arrive.’
***
Kate knocked at the door of her mother’s tiny cottage. Her mother greeted her with a loving hug as she stepped inside.
‘Now I suppose you must wait patiently for an answer to your letter, my dear. That could be a couple of weeks or more, even with the new railway lines and the fast steamers going to and fro all the time.’
Each morning, Kate sat waiting for the postman’s knock and the plop of an envelope on the hallway floor, ordering herself not to bite her nails. Then one rainy morning, it happened. She scooped up the brown envelope, ripped it open.
She’d won an interview for an English teacher position at Granite Ridge, one of the new booming gold towns a few miles from Kalgoorlie, hub of the region the whole world had lately recognised as awash with gold.
‘Given the teacher shortages all across the goldfields, Kate,’ her mother said, ‘they’ll give you the job if you can spell the word English more or less recognisably.’ She smiled at her daughter. ‘So much has happened since those goldfields were discovered some ten years ago. These days, they’re called the Eastern Goldfields. And money! My goodness, the mining companies are buried in it—throwing gold into building railway lines, towns, roads, shops, schools, even gambling saloons and restaurants.’ She laid her hands on her daughter’s shoulders as she sat clutching the letter.
‘And all to attract miners to dig the gold for them. Those miners, along with their families, tend to head for the towns owned by the highest bidders. And so, Miss Kate, I’m quite sure you’ll be welcomed with wide open arms—grabbed, more likely, and tied to your teacher’s desk with pink ribbons.’
‘I’m so sorry to be leaving you, Mother, but—’
‘I understand, my darling child. But I understand as well that at your tender age, you must make a living. And who knows, you might just happen to meet a decent young man …’
Days later, Kate took ship for Perth on the Western Princess, a steamer which regularly plied the cities between Sydney and Perth. Then a train journey on the newly built Kalgoorlie line which passed through the village of Granite Ridge a few miles before it reached the gold boom’s bustling centre.
If the Granite Ridge station was reasonably civilised, the rest of the dusty mining town was not. Mr Lawson, the local education administrator, met Kate at his office. As he drove her to the school in his sulky, they passed a string of huge sheds, a cluster of shops, an inn pretentiously labelled The Great Eastern Hotel, a mob of stray mongrel dogs—all powdered dull red by the dust that covered everything.
As Mr Lawson had predicted, Kate flew through the interview like a graceful eagle.
‘We surely need someone like you, Kate,’ the friendly headmistress said as they shook hands on the contract they’d negotiated. ‘You’re young, idealistic, no ties back east. Let me show you to your cottage. It’s a five-minute walk from here.’ The matronly woman, who would be Kate’s superior as of next Monday morning, led her across the schoolyard.
‘The mining companies are so desperate to attract teachers, they’ve provided free accommodation to bait the hook,’ she said. ‘And it’s not by any means a tin hut, my dear. It comes with all mod cons, courtesy of the companies. They’re making so much money, and they want their miners to stay, to resist the offers they receive from other booming mines on the Eastern Goldfields. So they’ve assigned generous funds to build the school and entice the teachers to stay. I trust you’ll enjoy your life at the Ridge.’
Around five that afternoon, Kate walked to her new home clutching a bag of groceries, a bundle of books, and a set of house keys. As darkness slid down from the hills and blanketed the dusty town, she sat on the back verandah, angled her chair to take in the view, and poured a glass of the Madeira she’d come to enjoy of an evening. She’d found all manner of wines and spirits at the inn.
‘Miners ain’t short of a shillin’ or two,’ the innkeeper told her. ‘And they likes their drinks.’
So Fate had decreed that she put in time as a Granite Ridge woman. The best thing about Granite Ridge was that it was a long way from Kenilworth, and a man called Tom Fortescue—a man she’d spend the rest of her life forgetting. She’d come to this dusty desert town for one reason—to heal. She’d blend with the comings and goings of Granite Ridge, lose herself in her teaching as life flowed by in the untamed rusty-red landscape.
***
From her first morning in the classroom, Kate fell in love with her pupils—a colourful bunch of mine workers’ children, hailing from China, Canada, the United States, even Australia. One afternoon, a week after her arrival, the mother of one of the pupils buttonholed Kate.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Courtney. I’m Emily Coleman.’ She beamed a wide smile. ‘Welcome to sunny Granite Ridge. You won’t be lonely here?’
‘No. I’m very comfortable, thank you, Mrs Coleman.’
‘No man waiting for you back east, Kate?’
‘No,’ Kate said as she waved a hand toward the skyline. ‘I’m as free as those eagles hovering over the range.’
‘Women are rather scarce in these parts, Kate. Lots of interesting men are on the lookout for an eligible woman. Or even a not-so-eligible woman.’
‘Indeed. But I’m not really looking.’
‘Why ever not? You’re young, pretty. And the single men round these parts—mostly young, good-looking, and very well paid. Engineers and such. And all seem to be set on searching for the girl of their dreams.’
‘One of these days, perhaps. I’m in no hurry.’
‘Ah. If I were to guess, I’d say you came here to heal from a broken heart.’
‘Well, yes.’ If Mrs Coleman asked for details, Kate would think of a polite lie. But the kindly woman ignored her silence.
‘Let me remind you,’ Mrs Coleman said, ‘if you can’t be with the one you love—you know the rest.’
‘Thank you, but I’m most certainly perfectly happy in my own company.’
‘Very well. But if ever you change your mind, don’t hesitate to give Aunt Emily a nod.’
‘Thank you, Aunt Emily. If ever I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.’
CHAPTER 15
The man ahead of Kate in the waiting line at the grocer’s shop kept turning to look at her, beaming a friendly smile each time their eyes met. When he headed for the street as she stepped up to the counter with her shopping bag, she allowed herself a sigh of relief. She definitely was not ready for such a blatant approach. As she stepped outside, her hands full of heavy bags, he stood waiting near the stables, looking exactly like one of the men Emily Coleman had mentioned.
‘You must be Miss Courtney,’ he said, his smile
a yard wide.
‘Indeed I am.’ Now Kate could take a proper look at the man. He stood tall, trim. He was clean-shaven—unusual for a man in these parts. His blue eyes never faltered as he held his gaze. A swathe of light brown wavy hair fell across his forehead, and his clothes looked as if they were fresh from the washerwoman. Also most unusual. How did he know her name? He was likely too young to have a child at school.
‘I’m Darcy Forbes,’ he said. ‘Chief engineer at Northern Consolidated.’
A brilliant opening line, Kate thought, biting back a smile. Northern Consolidated was the biggest mine in the region. Darcy was very young to be holding down a senior job there. As she mulled over what to say next, he stepped into the breach. He held out a hand. She shook it, trying not to compare its feel with Tom’s.
‘Emily Coleman told me about you,’ he said. ‘Bruce Coleman—that’s Emily’s husband—we work together.’ He paused. ‘They had me to dinner last weekend. Emily said you were new in town. Didn’t know many people. Suggested we should meet up. Suggested I should take you for a cup of tea one weekend. Soon.’
‘Mmm,’ Kate murmured. ‘One of the best lines I’ve heard this year. I’d give you eight out of ten for it.’ Now she could let her smile out of its box.
‘So where did I go wrong?’ He wound his own wide smile up a notch.
‘Very well. Ten out of ten,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I’m rather jaded. I must have lived in the city for too long.’
‘Really? And I thought you played sweet-natured country lass rather well. Definitely ten out of ten.’
‘Yes. They always told me I was a born actor,’ she said. That was a flagrant fib. She’d been told far too many times, ever since her debut as Cinderella’s Ugly Sister Number Two in a school play at age seven, that she had zero acting talent.
‘Aren’t I lucky!’ He smiled. His toothy grin almost split his face. ‘I just enjoyed a conversation with a famous actress. Tell me, Miss Courtney, are you in town to do a play? Hamlet? Julius Caesar, perhaps?’
‘My lips are sealed,’ she said, deciding to join in the fun. ‘You’ll have to speak to my director.’
‘I have a better idea,’ he said. ‘Afternoon tea this afternoon. Not at the Great Eastern.’
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Tea at not the Great Eastern.’
After tea in the surprisingly civilised managers’ dining hall at Northern Consolidated’s resplendent offices, Darcy took Kate home in his smart gig. When he pulled up outside her cottage and she stepped down from her seat, he smiled at her.
‘Busy next Saturday?’ asked the man Kate had privately labelled Mr Darcy.
‘Well, no. But—’ She stepped back from the gig, clutching her shopping.
‘Very well, milady. I shall call for you at six. A rather splendid Saturday night dinner at the company’s management dining hall. They do a not bad a la carte menu.’ Before Kate had time to refuse, he powered away with a wave and a grin.
In the quiet of her cottage, Kate found herself drifting back into a forbidden territory—Tom land. Tom and Laetitia would be married now. Bending to the task of making lots of children. Keeping Kenilworth Station in the family had been Tom’s primary goal in life ever since his blue-blooded mother had grilled him on the absolute necessity of maintaining the Fortescue family’s noble bloodlines.
Kate still missed Tom. Missed his smile, the warmth of his muscled body moving close to hers as they packed away the lesson for the day, the chance brush of his hand as they cleared the dinner dishes. Lately, she’d resigned herself to the impossibility of forgetting him, of erasing him from her life like a teacher wipes a blackboard. Tom Fortescue was a germ who’d infected her very soul. Like someone who has contracted tuberculosis, she might never purge him from her soul.
After the Saturday night dinner with Mr Darcy, she let him hold her hand as they walked to his gig in the dark. But no goodnight kiss. As he went to take her in his arms, she smiled and ducked away.
‘I’m not ready yet,’ she said as he helped her down from her seat.
‘When will you be ready, Kate?’ he whispered.
‘I’ll advise you,’ she said. ‘It might be some time.’
Back in her cottage, she sat in the warm dark and dreamed of Tom.
***
‘The company’s annual ball is on in a couple of weeks,’ Mr Darcy told Kate over the following Saturday night’s dinner. ‘And you’re invited. Lucky girl!’
‘Indeed? And to whom do I owe my heartfelt gratitude for that signal honour?’
‘What I meant was, will you be my partner?’
‘Very well. On the understanding there are no strings attached.’
‘Strings? What do you mean?’
‘Nothing, Darcy. Nothing.’ She paused, trying not to laugh as he feigned boyish innocence. ‘But I’ll confess to something. A deep, worsening pain.’ She put a hand under her breast. ‘Here, in my heart.’ As his look turned to horror, she laughed.
‘What’s a girl to wear?’
‘Oh, that. The administration people have ordered a bunch of costumes. From a Perth fancy dress store. This year’s ball is called Return to Regency. So all the costumes are to be Regency. A few days before the ball, everyone, men included, goes down to the storeroom and chooses their clothes. Last year we all wore harlequin outfits. Hysterical! Next year it might be medieval.’
‘Very well, sir. Katherine Tudor accepts your kind invitation. And she can’t wait to dress up as a queen. Or worse.’
***
From the moment Kate set foot in the Granite Ridge Community Hall two Saturday nights later, her mind slid into déjà vu. Granite Ridge had become another version of Croydon Creek’s Pioneers’ Ball, from the strings of coloured lights draped over the building, to the clusters of tables seating the wildly overdressed guests. At least the dancing was less challenging. There were no complicated gyrations like the one where she’d sprained her ankle during the tortuous tango. And to Darcy’s credit, he tried hard to help her enjoy their turns on the dance floor.
Too soon, the moment would come for the band to play Auld Lang Syne. The men would rise and, more or less gallantly, escort their partners out into the warmth of the desert night. Very likely, Mr Darcy would want his first kiss. Since that first awkward meeting outside the grocer’s shop, he’d been decent, understanding. But he’d been more than somewhat obvious about his intentions. In a town where men outnumbered women about ten to one, every Granite Ridge man without a regular lady friend was on the hunt for one.
Kate would refuse him, of course. And thereby earn a reputation as a cold, selfish fish. She’d find herself cut out of Granite Ridge society—an inconvenience she would face with appropriate stoicism. She’d come to like Mr Darcy. But her heart hadn’t. As always, in her solitary evenings she found herself dreaming of Tom. And always at the wrong moments. The recent ball had been too much of a walk down memory lane.
‘Kate.’ As they sat in Mr Darcy’s gig outside the Community Hall, she braced herself. A few minutes before, the last of the couples had shuffled outside and driven away.
‘Yes, Darcy.’
‘Is tonight the—night?’
‘You know the answer.’
‘But I thought you seemed to enjoy the ball. The dancing.’
‘Indeed I did. Thank you for your kind invitation. I felt rather like Cinderella.’
‘But—’
‘Darcy. Forgive me, but you’re beginning to sound tiresome. Perhaps you want me to pay the rent outstanding for all the dinners you’ve taken me to.’
‘You know that’s not so, Kate.’ Darcy’s voice cracked a little. ‘But a man has feelings. Especially when he’s close to a beauty like you. A dozen men tonight told me you looked beautiful. Most admitted to being jealous.’
‘Take me home please, Darcy.’ He flicked the reins, drove her to her cottage, pulled up.
‘Goodnight, Kate.’ He stared at the stars as she gathered her things.
‘Goodnigh
t, Darcy.’ She kept her voice light. ‘And thank you most sincerely for a delightful evening.’
‘What if this were our last night out, Kate?’
‘I’d be sorry to hear that.’
‘A man has, well, needs. I like you, Kate. Emily Coleman told me you were a lovely person. She didn’t know the half of it. Since we’ve spent time together, I’ve come to …’
He couldn’t be on the point of telling her he loved her. They’d enjoyed a few dinners together, a few jokes over afternoon tea. Nothing more.
His voice dried up. The silence lengthened. Kate slid a look towards the man who sat beside her, hands on the reins, staring up into the star-studded sky. A minute dragged by. Then another. Without warning, he lifted the reins, ready to flick them.
Kate understood. She slid from her seat and stood beside the gig.
‘Goodnight, Darcy. You’re a lovely man. I’ve enjoyed our times together. And I know you’ll find someone.’
As he drove away she walked to her door. Why had she rewarded a handsome, decent man—a man any girl could fall for—with total coldness? She’d answered that question many times. There was only one man in the world she could ever love. And he’d long ago become a glass of water thrown into a fast-flowing stream. Still, she was glad she’d stood up to the subtle pressure applied so long and so hard by Darcy. Vida Goldstein would be proud of her. She was a woman with her own needs, her own values—not a man’s plaything. Tomorrow morning she’d head off to school and lose herself in her teaching.
CHAPTER 16
Laetitia found Tom sitting on a bench in the conservatory, where she’d left him while she talked with her father after his crucial meeting with Tom.
‘Thank you for waiting, my darling,’ she oozed. ‘Father thinks you’re the most wonderful man in the world.’ She paused to beam a dazzling smile at him. ‘And he wanted me to tell you so.’ Then she bent and gave him a kiss full on the lips. A moist, inviting kiss.
‘Thank you,’ he said, instantly cautious. Laetitia’s always-changing moods had long been difficult for him to understand. ‘And you? What do you think?’