by Joanna Lloyd
“What an incredible story. I agree with you, he is a good man and one I trusted from the first. I feel so sorry for them both. You know, the thing that struck me about Shelagh was the deep sadness in her eyes. Now I know the cause.”
William looked toward the house. “Shelagh was the reason I bought the pianoforte. I hoped being able to play again might give her pleasure.”
Electra groaned. She felt her face flush and the ache of embarrassment swept up through her body. “Oh, William. How you must have hated my thoughtless comment when I saw it that first day. And you said nothing. I am so ashamed.”
He shook his head. “You had no idea. How could you? No, it is I who must apologize for my response.”
She held out her hand. “I think we will call it even and not mention the incident again. What do you think?”
He shook her hand. “Done.”
Electra looked up at the stars. “I liked Shelagh, William. I discovered tonight that I would be lucky to count her as a friend. And after what you have told me, I think I understand where her strength comes from. She was fearless tonight.”
“You were apparently no less fearless,” he said, shaking his head as he stood. He reached for her hand and pulled her up. “But it was dangerous what you did and if I had known you were out here, I would have told you to go into the house immediately.”
“And I would have disobeyed you,” she said matter-of-factly, brushing down her skirt.
“Why am I not surprised?” he sighed.
As they walked into the house, Shi Liang ran upstairs with water for them both to wash.
They climbed the stairs and stopped outside the door to her room. They looked at each other, unsure of what was expected.
“I’m almost too tired to even wash myself,” she said.
William must have considered that his cue, as he leaned toward her and kissed her on the forehead. “Goodnight, Electra. Sleep well.” He continued down the hall and into his bedroom.
Moving as if drugged, she dropped her ruined gown in a heap on the floor, picked up a cloth, wiped the soot from her face, neck, and arms, and pulled on her chemise. She covered her hair with a cap to stop the soot marking her pillow and fell, exhausted, into a dreamless sleep.
• • •
William also washed the soot from his body and climbed into bed. But sleep eluded him as his thoughts replayed the events of the night. Images of Electra flitted through his mind. The gut-twisting vision of her standing defiantly at the table defending herself; her eyes locked on his as they danced the steps of the quadrille; her dignified navigation through the myriad of insults and compliments that tracked her every move. Not to mention, he chuckled, in the midst of it all, managing to promote his proposal to the governor. Powerless to avoid his clamoring thoughts, he relived the heat of her soft, yielding lips and her questing fingers in the carriage. He felt himself harden at the memory. Damn, now he would never get to sleep. He turned onto his back, legs spread-eagled. Of all the night’s events, the clearest image in his mind was Electra covered in soot in her ruined ball gown.
He changed position again and threw off his bedcovers. Should he try to finish what he started in the carriage? God knows, there was nothing he wanted more, but the next move had to be hers. There was no way he wanted a repeat performance of the other night by the fire. He punched his pillow in frustration. Electra was beginning to dominate his thoughts as none had since Charlotte. What a disaster that had been. He had managed to keep his life uncomplicated since then and that suited him very well. Damn Electra. No, he would have to keep his distance. There was no way he would give so much of himself to a woman again.
Why then had he not married some timid, colourless woman for the conveniences he sought?
Because, he sighed, from the moment she looked up at him with those audacious eyes on board the Liberty, no other woman would do.
• • •
They assessed the damage, each with their own thoughts. Steam still rose from the charred timbers and all that remained standing was the brick fireplace. Shi Liang was inconsolable at the loss of his kitchen and Electra patted his back, assuring him it could be rebuilt. Callum took mental notes as William rattled off the materials needed to begin reconstruction.
Electra’s eyes kept flicking back to William as he and Callum discussed the fire. She felt a quiver low in her belly as she recalled the carriage ride home the night before and her passionate response to William’s caresses. For the first time, she imagined sharing his bed, and the strong warmth of his body against hers. After what she had done to his back, she knew he would have to approach her; it would be too humiliating if he didn’t want her. The sound of William’s voice pulled her out of her reverie.
“Have you any thoughts on how it might have started, Callum?”
“No Will, I wasna’ anywhere near at the time. Did ye see it start, Shi Liang?”
Shi Liang answered between sobs. “I long way. Master and Missee away so I stay have dinner with friend, Wu Ping. We play little bit fan tan and it velly late. When I come back, I see smoke alleady coming from building. Ohhh, so solly Master William.”
“For goodness sake, it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, Shi Liang. It may not be anybody’s fault. In a timber kitchen with huge fires going most of the time, it’s a wonder there aren’t more accidents.”
“Ye know, Will, if this gets out, which o’ course it will, Cameron will find a way to blame it on the blacks. Ye heard about the trouble down yonder did ye?”
William nodded gravely. At mention of natives, Electra looked up.
“What trouble, Will?”
William’s head jerked up at her use of the shortened version of his name. But he made no comment.
“It’s not a pleasant story. But unfortunately indicative of an increasing victimization of the natives.”
“Goodness, William, I’ve probably been subjected to more unpleasantness than you. I don’t want to be protected, I want to understand.” She held his gaze, challenging him to tell the story.
Frowning, he looked over at Callum, who shrugged. “As you wish. But you must stop me if it becomes too much for you.” She rolled her eyes and indicated for him to continue. “Some weeks ago a couple of settlers came across a native camp where they taunted one of the men, throwing hot coals at him to make him dance. He was badly burned and the natives retaliated by tracking down the settler responsible and spearing him. When he was found dead by the other settlers, they took up their rifles, went down to the blacks’ camp and eventually shot them all dead.”
Electra’s hand flew to her throat. She was too shocked to speak, but nodded for him to continue.
“I don’t think you need to hear the rest.”
It would be easier of course to agree, but she had gone this far and besides, it couldn’t be much worse, surely. “Of course I do. You know about it, why shouldn’t I?”
“Because you’re a woman and you should not have to hear such things.”
“This is not England, William. I am not a naïve lady who has experienced nothing worse than a water stain on her silk gown. I am a convict. Please continue.”
William frowned and pursed his lips, then took a breath and told the worst of it. “It was horrible. The camp was by a creek and some of the men had jumped into the creek to escape and as they came up for air, the settlers shot them. The blacks had no chance — it was a sport to these men. Since then there have been a number of settlers’ homes burnt, cattle and sheep stolen, and homes broken into.”
“But that’s shocking,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “I know it must be awful for the settlers who lost their homes and stock, but killing the natives in cold blood is unjustifiable. And like animals … ” She stopped, unable to form the words. There seemed to be no end to the brutal capacity of human beings. In the prison, on the ship, now this shocking brutality perpetrated on the natives. It frightened her. How far could she herself be pushed? And William, what about Willia
m? Did he have this streak of brutality like the others?
The silence stretched between them until she remembered something Callum had said. “What did you mean about Lieutenant Cameron?”
“The lieutenant doesna’ care for the blacks. In fact, he believes they should all be eradicated like pests. Any opportunity he gets to hunt them down, he takes, whether they’re responsible or no’.”
“Then we must make sure someone here takes responsibility for the fire,” she said. At least this was something they could do.
William and Callum raised their eyebrows at her words.
She looked at them squarely. “I will say I did it by mistake, leaving hog fat in a pan on the fire.”
“I hate to state the obvious but you are still serving a sentence and anything that could be misconstrued as deliberate damage could be held against you,” said William carefully. “No, it will be more believable if Shi Liang takes responsibility.”
Shi Liang looked up resignedly and nodded his head in agreement. With that decided, the three men began to gather makeshift materials together for a temporary outdoor kitchen. Electra poured fresh goat’s milk into a bowl and headed down to check on little Freddy Buckley, her mind still haunted by the images of the natives in the creek.
The men had gathered a pile of salvageable timber by the time she left and within three days, there was a new roof on the kitchen and Shi Liang was master of his domain again.
• • •
William unsaddled the grey stallion and placed the feedbag over his head. He muttered a curse under his breath as he remembered again the look of shock and distress on Electra’s face two days before, when told about the native massacre. It was so difficult to gauge her. One minute she was the seasoned convict, fearless and unshockable. And the next she was fragile and compassionate, shedding tears for the pain of others. They had not spoken of the captain’s divulgence of her background at the governor’s dinner or its, as yet unknown, effect on Sydney society. Nor had they spoken of their heated embrace in the carriage. He flicked the hair off his face and decided avoidance had held him in good stead for this long, why not stick with what he knew?
William stopped at the back door, kicked off one dusty boot and was pushing down on the heel of the second when he heard the sound of horses coming toward the house. Looking up, he recognised the red jacket and peaked cap of Lieutenant Cameron. Cursing under his breath, he pulled his boots back on and walked out to meet him.
Henry Cameron tipped his cap and dismounted.
“Radcliffe. I hear you’ve had some trouble.”
“Cook left some fat in a pan and set fire to the kitchen if that’s what you mean,” said William, gesturing toward the half-built kitchen.
Lieutenant Cameron strode purposefully toward the kitchen and paced the perimeter, scrutinizing the area.
“Thought you’d be too busy to bother with a kitchen fire, Henry. Do you want to tell me what this is about?”
“The thing is I’m not so sure this is a simple kitchen fire. Blacks have been causing some trouble around the district and I wouldn’t be surprised if this was lit intentionally.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, old man, but I know for sure this was an accident.”
“Mmph, well I want to know immediately if you see anything suspicious or if you hear of any trouble. My opinion is we’d be better off without them. They’re all a bunch of thieving savages and if they haven’t caused trouble yet, you can be sure they will in the future.”
William kept his features impassive. “Unfortunately, I don’t agree with you, but then there are a lot of things we don’t agree on.” The lieutenant clamped his lips into a hard line. “Can I offer you a drink, Henry?”
Lieutenant Cameron looked at him dubiously but accepted the offer. William suspected there was something else he needed to discuss. They went into the house.
The lieutenant reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a letter. William turned it over and noted the governor’s seal on the back.
“Aren’t you going to read it, Radcliffe? It might be important,” said the lieutenant.
It was clear to William that Lieutenant Cameron was not privy to the contents of the letter. He purposely put it on the table unopened. “Did the governor request a response, Henry? Tea or whisky?”
“Er, no, but it seemed important. I’ll take whisky.”
Enjoying the lieutenant’s unsatisfied curiosity, William poured them both a glass of the brown liquid. They sat in silence for a few minutes until William spoke.
“Any word from the governor on my proposal?”
The lieutenant glared at him. “Not as yet, but I’m sure you’ll hear when the governor is ready.”
It was at that moment Electra breezed into the room.
“Lieutenant, what a surprise. Have you come to tell William what the governor wants to do with his proposal?” she asked.
He stood reluctantly when she entered the room and gave an imperceptible bow. “As I said to your, er, husband, the governor will get to it in his own time.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to talk. Very nice to see you again.” She turned to leave.
“Wait, Mrs. Radcliffe, before you go. I wonder, did you notice anything suspicious with your kitchen fire?”
“Absolutely not, lieutenant. It was an accident, as I’m sure my husband has already told you. I’m sure it’s not the first time someone’s kitchen has burned down. Was there anything else?”
“No, that is all. But if you see anything suspicious, or hear of the blacks getting up to no good, please let your husband know so he can inform me of the matter.”
She glanced at William with a slight roll of her eyes, nodded, and took her leave. The lieutenant drained his glass and, mumbling that he had important things to attend to, also left. William waited until he saw the horse disappear and hurried back to the drawing room to open the governor’s letter. He slapped his leg in triumph as he read the contents.
“Good God, the man’s a saint,” he murmured. “Electra! Where are you?” He ran out of the room as she hurried toward him.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
“It’s the governor! He’s decided to grant you a conditional pardon. My God, this is wonderful news.”
Her jaw dropped. “What does it mean? Why would he do that?”
“It means you are officially no longer a convict.”
She gasped. “But how? I haven’t served enough of my sentence, have I? What does a conditional pardon mean?”
“The governor can give a pardon or a conditional pardon to anyone he chooses, if he feels their character and actions deserve it. A conditional pardon means you are treated as a free settler but must remain in the colony. And in the meantime we work on proving your innocence. Of course, he can rescind the pardon at any time if he sees the need, but I don’t think that will happen.”
Her head jerked up from the letter in surprise. “You believe I’m innocent?”
“Yes, of course I do. I should never have assumed anything without asking you but I know you are innocent and we will prove it.” The relief was clear on her face and he experienced another wave of guilt over his earlier doubts.
“But what have I done to deserve a pardon?”
William straightened the letter and read from it. “Firstly, he says he was ‘prompted to speak with Captain Hawley, who described the invaluable assistance afforded him by Mrs. Radcliffe on the voyage to New South Wales.’” William grimaced, and looking up, caught Electra biting her bottom lip to hide a grin. “He also notes, ‘Mrs. Radcliffe’s courageous dedication to the betterment of her husband’s enterprises, demonstrated when she braved the scorn of Sydney society to bring my attention to Mr. Radcliffe’s very valuable proposal.’”
She shook her head in disbelief but he gestured for her to listen as there was more. “Further, the governor had cause to speak with one Callum MacDonald two days previously, who told me of Mrs. Radcliffe’s brave actions under
taken to save her home by fighting a fire in the middle of the night.’ He says it is his mandate to populate this colony using whatever means he has at his disposal, with strong, resourceful and courageous people and he can think of no more likely candidate than you.” He looked up from the letter. “Usually these sorts of things are awarded for information leading to arrests of escaped convicts or bushrangers. Perhaps we had better look around for one of those just to seal the bargain,” he said, grinning.
“Oh William, it’s almost too much to take in.” There were tears in her eyes as she absorbed the information. Then she lifted her head and laughing excitedly, jumped up and threw her arms around him.
“We must tell Callum and Shelagh. After all, Callum seems to have been instrumental in all of this.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door.
As they made their way to the overseer’s house, William watched his wife. Her face glowed with excitement and disbelief at the news. Her spontaneous embrace, so naturally given, felt as intimate an exchange between husband and wife as the small moments of passion they had already shared.
• • •
Electra caught sight of Shelagh rounding the house with Dante at her heels. The dog, as familiar as his brother with Electra, trotted up to lick her hand and whined with excitement at the sight of William.
Clutching the governor’s letter, she waved it at Shelagh. “He’s given me a pardon. The governor. I’m not a convict any more. Where’s Callum? I must thank him; he spoke to the governor for me.”
Shelagh grabbed the letter from Electra’s outstretched hand and read. She whooped excitedly and hugged Electra. Thrusting the letter into William’s hands, she ran around the back of the house calling for Callum, who had just ridden in. On hearing the news, the burly Scot, grinning broadly, picked Electra up and planted a loud, bristly kiss on her cheek.