by Joanna Lloyd
“Callum, I can never repay you for speaking to the governor about this. You have changed everything for me,” she said, breathless with excitement.
“Och, ye think it’s me has made this happen, lass? I dinna think so. It’s yon lad been workin’ on the governor since he marrit ye. Who do ye think told him to speak to the captain? The governor had all but made the decision and wanted to meet ye at the dinner ye attended. Your bravery with the fire just gave him a good reason to keep his detractors happy.”
As she spun around, she caught William glaring at Callum. He quickly rearranged his face but she admonished him anyway.
“You let me think you had nothing to do with it. Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?”
“I didn’t want you to get your hopes up and then have it come to nothing. Anyway, all that matters is that it’s done. Come on, I think this calls for a celebration.” Gesturing for the others to follow him, he turned around and headed back to the big house.
Electra, walking behind William and Callum, watched her husband. He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and his arms, like his face, were brown from the sun. The firmness of his arms and the force of his shoulders made her want to reach out and touch him. As he turned to laugh at something Callum said, she caught sight of his profile and took a deep, pleasurable breath. The straight, almost aristocratic nose had a slight downturn and his blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. With a shock she realized she could fall in love with this man. Had she already? She hoped not. That would be a foolish move, making it too hard to leave. But she had to admit, as they trooped into the house companionably, that she was actually happy.
A state she had not experienced for far too long.
Chapter Nine
The chestnut mare picked its way carefully around the mottled trunks of the eucalypts, brushing against the soft papery bark of a tall melaleuca. Electra leaned forward over the horse’s neck, peering into the depths of the forest and ducked as a low-hanging branch brushed her head. She was sure this was the same place. There must be something she recognised. The small circle of eucalypt trees near the clearing; that had to be it. She jumped at the shrill whip-cracking call of a bird, but to her disappointment, there were no human sounds. Dismounting, she led the horse in the direction she had seen the native women disappear.
The going was more difficult than she expected. Brittle twigs snagged at her clothes, forcing her to stop continually and disentangle her skirts. Small, invisible creatures scuttled or slithered out of her path. And the sight of a thin, glistening tail disappearing under a mound of leaves made her squeal and hop frantically onto a rock. As she stepped over a fallen log, her foot caught on a branch. With a loud exclamation, Electra lurched forward and fell face down on to the ground. A sharp pain shot through her right hand and as she struggled to her feet, she noticed blood running down her arm. Tears of frustration stung her eyes as she berated herself for being so foolish as to think this would be easy. This was the rough Australian bush. And she was a girl from the city. She sniffed and, with pursed lips, ripped a strip off her petticoat. With her left hand and her teeth, she tied it around the injury and pushed on through the bush.
The vegetation gradually became sparser and she could smell smoke. What was that sound? There, she heard it again. It was the playful laughter of children. Hardly daring to breathe, she crept forward, peering through the trees. There, not fifty feet away, was a space of cleared ground with three bark huts in a semicircle and a fire pit in the centre. The children she had heard were in the clearing, playing a game of tag.
As she crouched in the bush, considering her next move, the mare suddenly threw back her head, stamped, and shook her mane impatiently. The result was pandemonium.
“Eeeeeey!” shrieked one of the children.
The others joined in the fear-filled screaming, pointing, and jabbering. Electra, frightened by the shrieking children, also screamed. Two women appeared and added their high-pitched voices to the children’s. The women ran to the huts, each grabbed a spear and ran at her, yelling in their strange language.
One of them gestured for her to approach. Electra’s heart thumped wildly as she wondered if these were to be her final moments. No one would ever find her here because, as usual, she had told no one of her plans. Hardly able to breathe, she stepped forward, holding up both her hands to show she had not come to hurt them. The screaming and spear jabbing continued until she dropped, trembling, to the ground.
The crushing fear slowed her mind; even the voices became dim. The spear was inches from her eyes. She could see the pieces of grass binding the stone chips of its lethal head to the shaft and a dark stain, like blood, on the tip. She closed her eyes and wished she had listened to William. What arrogance had made her think these people would want her friendship?
There was a loud exclamation and the screaming stopped. She gingerly raised her head to see the woman who had given her the wooden bowl step into the clearing. The newcomer slapped the spears out of the other women’s hands and grinned in welcome to Electra.
“Yaraay,” she said, slowly pointing at her chest. The children crept out from behind the huts, curiosity overcoming their fear.
Electra, still in shock, shakily pointed at her chest saying, “Electra.” The children giggled at her name, chanting, “Ecca, Ecca.”
Yaraay then pointed at the others, one at a time. “Thulumaay, Waruu.”
Electra swallowed and repeated the names. Yaraay reached down and helped Electra to her feet, clucking her tongue at the other two women when Electra’s legs buckled beneath her. Yaraay directed her to a tree stump and watched in silence as Electra took two deep breaths. Finally, she smiled and the three faces watching her split into wide grins in response. After warily testing her legs, she indicated she had something for them and returned to her horse. Seven pairs of eyes followed her every move as Electra cautiously lifted items out of the saddlebag. Then waiting for a nod from Yaraay, she handed peaches and apples to the children.
As they ate the juicy fruit, the children were calling out their names to Electra: “Gumi, Bibil, Murrgu, Pinyaa,” and rolling on the ground with laughter as she tried to pronounce them.
Electra pulled bright scarves from her bag for the women. Their eyes widened as she held them out, commenting to each other on the colours. With a mischievous look at Electra, Yaraay, mimicked by the others, put the scarf on her head and around her shoulders. Then she wiggled her backside and placed it across her lower regions, laughing as Electra’s mouth dropped open in shock.
Finally, Yaraay put down her scarf and with a frown at Electra’s hand, gestured for her to remove the rough bandage. Electra waved her hand, saying it was nothing, but the woman insisted. When her hand was unwrapped, they all shook their heads, tut-tutted and frowned at the wound.
Yaraay rattled off an order to the woman called Waruu, who ran into the bush behind the huts. Minutes later, she returned with a resiny gum in a leaf. At Electra’s questioning gestures, she pointed some yards away to a River Red Gum tree where she had scored the trunk to release the sticky substance. Yaraay took Electra’s hand and led her to the small creek behind the huts and made a brown tannin wash with the bark of the tree to clean the injury. She then applied the resin with her fingers and pointed at the wound, nodding in satisfaction, obviously pleased this white woman had trusted her.
Thulumaay dipped a small bark water pouch into the creek and handed Electra some water. She lifted it to her mouth and gulped as the water ran down the sides of her mouth. Her earlier fear had left her mouth dry. The native women sat cross-legged on the ground and Waruu reached for Electra’s hand to pull her down beside them.
The children chased each other around the women, raising small eddies of dust until a sharp retort sent two of them clambering up a tree, showering seedpods onto the other two. Hesitantly at first, but then more boldly, the women touched Electra’s hair, marvelling at its colour. They poked at her clothes and laughed incredulo
usly at their restrictions.
After an hour of inquisitive hand gestures and a lot of laughter, Electra reluctantly stood to leave. Yaraay offered to lead her out of the bush and she gratefully accepted. The children scrambled to hold both her hands until she reached her horse. Waruu and Thulumaay called the children back as she gathered up the reins of her mare and walked into the bush with Yaraay by her side.
Yaraay, somehow aware of Electra’s curiosity, pointed to different seeds, pods, and roots, showing her which were edible and which were not. She reached up, plucked a small fruit resembling a bluish plum and passed it to Electra to taste. It was so bitter, Electra closed her eyes, her lips puckered; she shivered and spat it on the ground. Yaraay doubled over with laughter and with mischief in her eyes, called Electra’s attention to a large lizard running up a tree. She rubbed her belly and licked her lips. Electra coughed, mimed being sick, and shuddered with revulsion. Minutes later, Yaraay stopped and squatted on her haunches. She pointed to a set of barely discernible tracks and mimicked an animal Electra could not identify. With Yaraay’s help, she finally picked up its movements and the direction in which it was headed. She felt a rush of elation at acquiring her first bush skill but was doubtful she would ever require tracking skills.
Too soon, they reached the path leading back to the paddocks of Riverside. They held each other’s hands for a moment and then without a sound, Yaraay disappeared back into the bush.
As the homestead came into view, Electra’s thoughts turned back to William. She decided to tell him where she had been. It was important not to practice deceit, and besides, she wanted to share what she had experienced with him. Thoughts of sharing with William inevitably took her mind to the intimacy they had not yet shared. As his wife, it was an inevitable occurrence. To be honest, she had to admit it was beginning to feel less like a duty. When William touched her, it stirred something unfamiliar to her that was at once exciting and alarming, but never seemed finished. She yearned to find out what it was.
• • •
William, back from a trip to Sydney, paced furiously across the library floor. Every few minutes he craned his neck at the window, hoping to see his wife return. He had stopped for an ale after completing his errands in town and found himself in conversation with a Lieutenant John Clarke who had sailed with Electra on the Liberty. The man, weaving and stumbling, approached him as if already acquainted and introduced himself, slurring his words. Clapping a hand on William’s shoulder, the lieutenant congratulated him on his marriage. And then said something very strange.
“I’ll bet the captain is not too happy with the arrangement though, eh?”
William told him the captain appeared very pleasant and had been invited to visit his home.
The lieutenant lifted his ale in a salute and, slopping it onto the table, said, “You’re obviously not too bothered about having his leavings then, Mr. Radcliffe.”
William knocked the ale out of his hand and landed a well-aimed punch on the man’s nose. Then he slammed out of the alehouse. He didn’t know if he was angrier with the man’s impudence or with Electra denying him what she had so obviously given to the captain. How could he have been so wrong about her?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her voice.
“William, are you in there?” she tapped on the library door.
He went to the door and locked it, too angry to face her yet. “Yes. I don’t want to be disturbed. I will see you at dinner.”
He listened to her footsteps fade down the hall and turned back to his desk. It was no good, he could not concentrate on other matters. The sooner this matter was settled, the better.
• • •
William had washed and changed out of his loose cotton work breeches into brown fitted trousers and a white linen shirt with a waistcoat. With his thumb hooked into his waistcoat pocket, he paced the drawing room floor. Right, he muttered to himself, we’ll sort this out once and for all. Does she imagine I’m to be played for a fool? To think they were waving it under my nose at the governor’s dinner and I invited the man to visit. God damn her and her cunning wiles. Either I claim my rights as a husband tonight or I have the marriage annulled. It’s a damn good thing I don’t care about her. He caught sight of his face in the mirror above the fireplace. It was pale and wretched looking.
“I’m sorry, William, were you talking to me?”
He swung round, his jaw clenched, and ready to issue his ultimatum. The words caught in his throat as he watched her enter. Her soft white muslin gown clung to her long slender legs as she walked. Good Lord, he would swear she wore no undergarments beneath her gown. With difficulty, he tore his eyes away from the outline of her thighs and fixed them on her shining, red-gold curls, gathered softly in a knot at the nape of her neck. Threaded through the knot was a pure white flower. She was a mixture of childish innocence and sensual womanhood, and her wide golden eyes pleaded for his approval. He groaned at the effect this virginal apparition was having on him.
Oblivious to his discomfort, she reached out and gently stroked his face. Then, seeming nervous, spoke quickly of her intentions.
“Please don’t think me bold but I have something I must say before I lose my courage.” He nodded, still unable to force a sound past his lips. “I would like us to have an intimate dinner, share our day with each other and then if you’ll have me, I want to come to your bed.”
The power of speech finally returned. “Good Lord, how do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Just when I think I’m in control of this relationship, you turn everything upside down and do the unexpected.”
She smiled. “Oh, do I?”
“You do.” He released a rush of breath and reached for a bottle. “Would you like some wine?”
She nodded and held out her slender hand to take the glass.
“Well, you haven’t answered. Would you have me?”
He looked at her and swallowed. Until this afternoon, having her in his bed had almost become an obsession. And now she was offering herself to him. He struggled to hold on to his anger and determination. “We’ll see,” he rasped.
She turned away, embarrassed.
Seeing the disappointment on her beautiful face, he was tempted to reach for her and remove any doubt she might have of his need. Instead, he moved to the dining room, sternly reminding himself of her deceit.
Shi Liang had made a stew of wild duck and peaches with greens from the garden. His unusual combinations of food meant dinner was always a surprise. At first Electra had been hesitant with the unusual dishes, but now seemed eager to sample each new concoction. However, tonight she picked at her meal, casting sidelong glances at William.
Although the shadow of her promise hung over the table, Electra seemed to have other matters she wished to discuss with William. As she still didn’t speak, he supposed she was waiting for him to invite her to do so.
“Did you have a pleasant day, Electra?” He forked up his duck.
“You recall I was going for a ride again today?” She pushed her food around the plate.
“Yes, you told me. Where did you go?” She swallowed and avoided his gaze. “Please don’t tell me something I’m not going to like.”
“I’m afraid it might upset you just a little. But give me time to tell you all of it before you make judgment.”
He grudgingly agreed.
“I went to the native camp in the forest past the west paddock.”
“Electra! You went to Pretty Creek Camp?”
“William, you promised.”
He shook his head, puffing air out his cheeks, and she continued.
“I had made contact with one of the women the last time I went into the bush. I wanted to find her again and I did. There were three women and four children and they were wonderful. I had fallen and cut myself,” she held out her hand and William grasped it, frowning at the injury. “See how good it looks? They treated me with a sticky substance from the b
ark of a tree. We communicated with hand signals and, William, it was one of the most exciting experiences I have ever had.”
He knew she wanted his approval of her adventure and was struck by her childlike excitement, but he could not let go of his anger.
“You were lucky. It is very dangerous now that so many of the blacks have been hurt or killed by the settlers. They’re scared and angry and will use their spears before asking questions.”
“I know and I thought I would be so scared. In fact, two of them threatened me with spears.” Williams eyes widened. “But it was all right,” she said hastily. “The third one, Yaraay, told them I would not harm them.”
He frowned. “Frankly, Electra, I’m not sure what to think. I am annoyed that you put your life in danger and cannot think what would make you go barrelling off into the bush to make contact with these women.”
He could see the light fade from her eyes as he spoke, but he could not stop.
“One day I think I’d like to get up in the morning and know what to expect from you.”
“My father always said I was many things but never boring. I was not really sure if it was a compliment or not.”
“I would hazard a guess that it was not.”
She looked at him, obviously hurt at his response, but then left the subject alone. The enthusiasm left her face.
Mary cleared the table and without speaking, they moved to the more comfortable armchairs in the sitting room.
• • •
Electra was not sure why William seemed so grim. What did he want from her? Could he still be so angry at her actions by the fire that he would refuse her offer? How humiliating to be rejected the first time she offered herself to a man. Perhaps he found it impossible to imagine intimacy with a convict, even a pardoned one. This thought was too much to bear. She stood to leave.
“Where are you going? You made me an offer and I’ve decided to accept it,” he snapped.