by Lena Dowling
She should have trusted her instincts about Harry in the first place and never let herself get carried away.
Chapter 20
‘Will this do?’ Pikelet said, standing in a clear patch of grass between a young family on one side and a group of convict girls on the other.
‘What do you think, Agnes?’ Nellie asked.
‘We won’t see much when the horses get around the other side,’ Agnes said, standing on her tiptoes, with her hand held over her eyes looking out across the racetrack.
They hadn’t been able to leave until the breakfast had been cleared away and the table reset for dinner. By the time they’d walked over to Hyde Park, all the best positions had been taken.
‘What have we got in that basket of yours, Nell?’ Pikelet asked.
‘Bacon sandwiches, with apples and shortbread for afters.’
Pikelet grinned at her. ‘Did I hear bacon? My ears must be deceiving me—you said jam sandwiches surely?’
‘I thought we deserved a treat—it’s race day after all.’ Half of race day and Christmas Day were the only days of the year they took off.
Nellie ate her sandwich, chewing slowly, making it last. She was savouring the salty sweetness when two shiny black boots stepped onto the rug.
‘Join me in the officers’ tent.’
She put down her sandwich, no longer hungry. Trust Anthony Tompkins to turn up ruining her day.
‘I’m fine with me friends here, but thanks for offering,’ she said evenly, picking up her sandwich again; nibbling at it, half-heartedly this time.’
‘It wasn’t a request.’
‘Leave her be,’ Pikelet said, throwing down his own half-eaten sandwich, getting to his feet.
‘I’d stay out of it if I were you.’
Pikelets hands clenched to fists at his side. ‘I said leave her be.’
Tompkins turned to one of his men standing a short way away. ‘Private—take this man away.’
Nellie gathered her skirts and struggled to her feet.
‘Pikelet’s done nothing.’
Tompkins ignored her, barking at his men. ‘The man accosted me and I can smell alcohol on him. Put him away till he sobers up.’
‘That’s rubbish. He hasn’t touched a drop. We’ve got nothing with us. You can check the basket.’
‘Nell, it doesn’t matter,’ Pikelet said.
Tompkins stepped towards her, his foot on the sandwich, grinding it into the rug. ‘Have a drink with me and we’ll call this all a misunderstanding.’
‘One drink?’
‘Don’t,’ Pikelet called. ‘Don’t you dare. I’ll be fine in lock-up for a few hours.’
As much as she hated the idea of spending time with Anthony Tompkins, she wouldn’t see Pike dragged away. God only knew what state he would be in when he came back if the redcoats got a hold of him, men that actually had been drinking, and too much by the look of those staggering around the army tent.
‘Don’t go too far Pikelet, I’ll not be very long.’
‘Nellie—please, you don’t have to do this.’
Nellie ignored Pikelet’s pleading, and while it galled her to do it, took Tompkins’s arm, allowing him to steer her towards the army marquee.
‘Things have been going well for you,’ Tompkins said once they were inside the tent. It looked more like a room, with carpet laid on the ground and proper furniture.
‘We’re doing alright,’ she said, sitting down where Tompkins pointed to a canvas- covered chair beside his.
‘I see Chester’s here, down at the Hunters’ tent. He’s well in there, isn’t he?’
‘Mallard and Hunter are friends. From way back. So it stands to reason.’
‘But he didn’t invite you to join them. That must be a bitter pill.’ Tompkins laughed.
With the situation between James and his wife the way it was, and the reasons for it, she couldn’t have gone anyway, but it had still hurt when Harry had announced that’s where he would be spending the day.
‘Why would he invite me? I only work for him,’ she said.
‘We go back a long way you and me, Nell Belle. A long, long way.’
Nellie said nothing, refusing to think about what they went back to. That was all behind her now.
Tompkins lounged back, his campaign chair creaking beneath him. ‘I wonder what the Governor would do if he heard the Tullamore had turned to riot.’
‘There’s been no riot.’
‘No,’ Tompkins said, stroking the pointed chin that gave the look of a ferret. ‘You’d call it more of a skirmish.’
So Tompkins had been responsible for the trouble at the bar after all.
Perhaps it was for the best that nothing could come of things between her and Harry. God only knew what Tompkins would have done if he’d found out about it. Tompkins hadn’t been her first. She had only made it look that way to save trouble and keep Danny happy. But Tompkins always acted as if it gave him some sort of claim on her.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, ‘You know, if you want to keep yourself cloistered in that guesthouse like a nun that’s up to you, but if you decide to break that vow of celibacy, I expect the first right of refusal.’
***
Harry had kept one eye on Nellie from the moment she’d appeared further down the track, while he took care to listen enough to make half-sensible contributions to the conversation. He had watched their little party lay out their rug and sit down to eat Nellie’s picnic. Bacon sandwiches if the smell in the kitchen before he left was anything to go by. He was jealous to be stuck drinking cordial and faced with overly sweet biscuits and cakes, making even sicklier conversation.
Tompkins had approached. Even without being able to see his features, he knew it was him by his wiry stature and slithering lazy gait. Tompkins had said something to Pike who had gotten to his feet, and two of Tompkins’s men had rushed him. There was a discussion, a heated one judging from the gestures of Pike and the officers, and then Nellie had joined Tompkins, walking towards the sea of red around the officers’ marquee.
Harry set down the glass of cordial and made an excuse about wanting to stretch his legs. Mrs Biggs was the only other person in their tent who had caught on, and she said nothing other than dropping her head in a barely perceptible nod of approval.
‘What happened?’ he asked when he reached Pikelet and Agnes sitting on a rug on the ground in silence, both staring out across the racetrack even though there was no race running.
‘Tompkins strong-armed her into taking a drink with him,’ Agnes said, looking up.
‘Right,’ Harry said, turning towards the tent.
‘I’d think twice about going over there,’ Agnes said. ‘They threatened to lock Pike up when he tried to say something.’
‘I’d have happily been locked up to save her from spending any time with him, but Nellie wouldn’t hear of it,’ Pike said.
Harry turned again and walked directly into the officer’s tent, skirting a group of junior officers milling around the front, striding forwards without looking up, as if he had business inside.
Tense and on edge, Nellie was there, struggling to sit stiffly upright beside Tompkins in a chair that was meant for lounging.
‘Captain Tompkins,’ Harry said, gritting his teeth at having to accord the man his rank, ‘I apologise for the intrusion, but Lady and Mr Hunter have requested the pleasure of Miss Malone’s company at their marquee.’
Tompkins, who had been about to take a sip of wine, let down his glass, sweeping a derisory eye over him. ‘Mr and Lady Hunter. How can I compete with that?’
Nellie tipped back her glass and drained it. ‘One drink, you said.’
‘Go on. But remember what I said—first right of refusal.’
Nellie stood up, slipping her arm under his.
She was smiling, but her grip was tight on his arm.
‘What did Tompkins mean by first right of refusal?’ Harry said once they were out of earshot.
&
nbsp; Nellie looked back over her shoulder. ‘Just business.’ But her grip didn’t loosen. If anything, her fingertips dug deeper into his arm.
‘What sort of business?’
‘Just some jibber jabber about the alcohol sellers that have been springin’ up since the Governor loosened the rules about who could sell, that’s all.’
He wasn’t convinced she was telling the truth, but Nellie had reacted much the same way as when he had found Tompkins in the kitchen that day. She was terrified of the man. He only wished there was some way to keep Tompkins away from her and away from the Tullamore.
He was still pondering that question when he pulled to a halt, aware Nellie had left his side, going towards Pikelet and Agnes waiting on the rug.
‘The Hunters’ tent is down that way,’ Harry called after her.
‘As if.’
Nellie laughed, her wonderful musical laugh that made him want to follow her.
‘You were invited.’
‘Me and the Queen of Sheba,’ she laughed again.
‘Not you specifically, granted, but my invitation was for two.’
‘I can’t swan up to her ladyship’s tent without there being a scene.’
‘There won’t be a scene. Lady Hunter and Lady Mallard are both too well bred for that. Colleen and Mr Biggs are both there. Richard Henley is there too, so there will be people who will speak to you.’
***
Harry made the most of her hesitating, grabbing her arm and propelling her to the Hunters’ tent.
Then, before she could argue, Henley saw her. ‘Miss Malone—what a pleasure to see you again. How has luck treated you on the horses today?’
What was Harry doing?
Had he brought her here on purpose to prove that he could handle being with her in the company of men like Richard Henley? If he had, it would take more than a few moments in a marquee at race day.
‘I don’t bet, Mr Henley,’ she said.
Richard held out a fistful of tickets. ‘You must—it makes it much more enjoyable. Take one of my tickets for the next race.’ Nellie hesitated. ‘Go on—pick one,’ he said. ‘What about you, Mr Chester—who do you favour to win?’ Henley said.
‘Unfortunately, I haven’t had a chance to study the starters’ form, but I should say the horse with the greatest will.’
‘You’d discount breeding and training?’
‘I would not discount it, but I would afford greater weight to determination and perseverance.’
‘An interesting theory. Which horse have you got there, Miss Malone?’
Nellie turned the ticket over. ‘Killarney Boy.’
Richard laughed.
‘Why is that funny?’ Nellie asked.
‘Killarney Boy belongs to Jonathan Carlisle.’
She knew Jonathan. He had once been a regular at O’Shane’s, and she had heard that he had been granted his conditional pardon not that long ago. Last she knew of him he was living in a tent on a block of land on the Hawkesbury.’
‘You’ll have to hope your friend Mr Chester is right.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Mr Henley, I’m sorry to interrupt, but might I steal my cousin away for a moment of conversation? Mr Biggs is breaking his neck to get back to Parramatta before nightfall.’ Colleen had noticed them and pulled away from her fancy friends.
‘You’re leaving? What a shame,’ Richard said.
‘We must, I’m afraid, to see to the animals.’
Colleen pulled her to the side of the marquee that was furthest from the other ladies. She spoke in a low tone, trying to look serious but Nellie could see the smirk trying to get out from underneath. ‘I’m not going to embarrass either of us by squealing and jumping up and down, but what was it I said about Mr Chester? You and he would make a fine match.’
‘Get away with you.’ Nellie said, but Harry had done more than just present her to Richard Henley, he had stayed and joined the conversation.
He was trying at least.
‘Sod it.’ Colleen whispered, then threw her arms around her, giving her a great bear hug. ‘I don’t care what the other ladies think, I’m just so pleased to see you here with Mr Chester.’
‘Good grief,’ Nellie said.
‘I’m sorry. I got carried away,’ Colleen said, letting go.
‘No, not that,’ Nellie said. ‘One of the ladies over there just filched a handful of biscuits and snuck them into her purse.’
‘That’ll be Lady Hunter. She does that.’
‘With all her money?’
‘Sshhh, keep your voice down. When you get to know the rich, you find out sometimes they have their problems too.’
Nellie scowled at Colleen.
‘Don’t look at me like that. I know it’s hardly the same as where you next meal is comin’ from or keepin’ a roof over, but there’s always things about people you don’t know.’ Colleen dropped her voice back down to a whisper. ‘’Specially the wealthy ones. They’re the best at hidin’ things.’
The reminder about her own worries brought Nellie down to earth. Harry was trying and it was lovely seeing Colleen, but it didn’t change the fact she was still on borrowed time at the Tullamore.
‘Shite.’
‘What is it?’
‘James Hunter is coming over.’
‘Surely not.’
‘James, what in God’s name are you doing?’ Mr Biggs hissed, having disengaged himself from his conversation with another guest, heading James off, his huge bulk preventing James Hunter from coming any closer.
‘Miss Malone is your cousin and she is Mr Chester’s tenant. She is also here as my guest and in any other circumstances—’ James said.
‘But it’s not any other circumstance,’ Samuel said in a low growl. ‘Think of the womenfolk.’
‘Yes of course, you’re right. My apologies. But please tell your cousin-in-law she is very welcome here.’
‘That was nice of him,’ Colleen said in the soothing voice she usually only used on Little Sam.
Samuel frowned at them, deep wrinkles going all the way up his forehead onto his bald head.
‘I’m sorry. Mr Chester insisted,’ Nellie said.
Colleen gave her husband a gentle poke with her elbow. ‘Don’t be silly. We’re very pleased to see her, aren’t we, Mr Biggs?’
‘I’ll hitch up the horses.’ Samuel pulled on his hat, then strode to the side of the tent and pulled up a canvas flap and stepped out.
‘Oh dear. I knew I shouldn’t have come. Samuel’s angry. I’ve embarrassed you in front of your friends.’
‘Don’t mind him. He’s just wanting to see the Hunters patch things up, that’s all.’
‘I’m making it worse.’
‘I don’t think you could do that.’
‘I’ll leave.’
‘Don’t be silly. You’ve got a ticket—stay until the race is over. There’s a good view of the winning post and make sure you have some afternoon tea before it all ends up in her ladyship’s purse.’ Colleen squeezed her arm. ‘But now I really do have to go.’
‘Give Little Sam a hug for me.’
‘I will.’
Nellie walked down the tea table, eyeing up all the sweets. She stopped at the drop scones with jam and cream. Nellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d had cream, but she worried how good it would be in the heat. She looked around. No one was watching. She dipped her finger in one of the dollops.
‘It’s fresh,’ the only other woman in the tent dressed as finely as Lady Hunter said, coming up to her. Her outfit was new and too finely stitched to have been made by any of the tailors in the colony. She guessed it was Lady Mallard.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I’m here with Mr Chester.’
‘I know who you are,’ she said, stressing the ‘who’, making it clear that she really meant ‘what’.
Nellie fumbled to put the drop scone on a saucer. She couldn’t leave it there now on the big plate with the finger swipe out of it. But
as she tried to lever it onto the plate, it tumbled out of her jittering fingers and onto the ground. Nellie bent, meaning to pick it up.
‘For goodness sake. Just leave it.’ The woman said. ‘It’s only grass.’
‘Emily, I see you’ve met Miss Malone,’ Harry said stepping between them, ignoring the fact she’d been grovelling around on the ground.
‘I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy,’ she said, pointing down to the mess of cream and jam, grateful only that the Hunters’ tent wasn’t quite as grand as the army marquee, where they’d had rugs on the ground.
‘No harm done. I shall get you another and then we must put ourselves at the front so you can watch your horse come in.’
Harry placed another scone on her plate and steered her away towards the front of the tent.
‘Did you have to say that? Now Lady Mallard thinks I’m a gambler on top of everything else.’
‘Tssk tssk, not a gambler.’ Harry laughed. ‘How unseemly.’
‘Be serious.’
‘I am. I think your reputation can stand a little flutter.’
‘I have no reputation.’
‘Which means you have nothing to lose, just like Killarney’s Boy. Richard tells me he’s the only grey horse in the race, so he’ll be easy to spot.’
When the horses first set off in a hail of turf, Killarney’s Boy was somewhere in the middle, but by the time they rounded the curve coming up the straight on the other side of the course, the grey horse was second from the back.
‘Look,’ Richard said, ‘One of mine, Bethell’s Blaze, is right at the front.’
‘How can you tell?’
From that far away the horses all looked the same to her.
‘The rider’s the only one in a red shirt.’
Bethell’s Blaze was leading the pack, with several more horses back to Killarney’s Boy.
Never mind. The ticket had been a gift.
‘Look.’ Harry touched her shoulder and pointed.
Killarney’s Boy had crept up and was just two behind the leaders.
‘Go Killarney. Go!’ she called.
‘Would you look at that,’ Richard said.
Killarney’s Boy had gained on the leaders.
Nellie’s heart leapt. As he passed the second, and then the third, vying with Bethell’s Blaze, she jumped up and down.