Toward Love's Horizon

by Michele du Barry

  Clare smelled delightfully of powder and milk and Maggie breathed in the familiar baby scent with a remembered longing. Clare laughed and tugged at her thick hair and when the small Irish girl raised her head there was almost a smile on her lips. Angela’s youngest had made another conquest as she was wont to do with speedy ease, and tears of joy trembled on the brink of overflow in Maggie’s big brown eyes.

  With the household in order after the Murrays settled into the daily routine Angela, Clyde, and Ezra began a systematic search of the town. Block by block they scoured the homes, warehouses, stores, lumberyards, and brickworks for Scott. They questioned the people employing convicts and scanned a thousand different faces.

  The felons of the colony fell into many different categories. They were clerks, overseers, servants, and gardeners. They built roads and houses and ran farms, ranches and businesses for absentee landowners. Tracking down one anonymous man was like looking for a needle in a haystack. So during the daylight hours they continued their quest and Angela spent the early mornings and evenings with the children. Respectable people didn’t venture outdoors at night but locked themselves into their houses behind heavy bolted doors. The crooked dusty streets weren’t safe at night with so many ex-murderers, thieves, and felons lurking everywhere. Only on very special occasions did the privileged venture forth at night and then it was en masse for there was safety in numbers.

  But as the days went by Angela discovered that Sydney wasn’t as grim as first glance would have it. There was gaiety and color to be found also. In just the short time since Governor Macquarie’s arrival he had improved things immensely. Elegant houses of brick and stone were replacing the mud and daub houses originally thrown up. Hyde Park had been laid out containing a racecourse, but it bore no resemblance to its London namesake. There ladies and gentlemen could walk or ride, picnic or listen to the band that played till dusk.

  Dinner and card parties abounded, always ending before sundown which came with a swift finality like a candle being blown out in a dark room. And on fine days there were excursions to Watson’s Bay or boating on the harbor with the ladies dressed in out-of-date finery and the soldiers colorful in their uniforms. On the whole it was very provincial but Sydney was fast growing up, considering the colony was only twenty-three years old.

  The warm summer evening of December 31, 1811 was one of the few exceptions to the rule of staying home at night. Angela had received a coveted invitation to the dinner party and ball at Government House not long after her arrival in Sydney. It was unthinkable that she not attend because everyone was clamoring for a look at the duchess even though she had met many of them in her daily travels through the town. Besides she was sure to meet many influential landowners who employed hundreds of convicts from as far away as the Hawkesbury and the Cow Pasture’s District. One of them might be instrumental in helping her find her lost husband.

  Kate helped her dress and when she was finished, turning in front of the mirror for a final inspection all the girl could say was, “Milady! Oh, milady!”

  Angela smiled at her bedazzled expression thanked her for helping, then she swept from the room to kiss the children goodnight, leaving a flash of elegance behind her the likes of which the house had never seen before. Clyde was waiting in the sitting room resplendent in his dress uniform stiff with gold braid. His usual, carefully guarded expression dissolved into complete adoration for a moment before the blind came down again.

  “You look lovely, Angela,” he murmured. “I will be the escort of the most beautiful woman in the colony tonight. Will you save me at least one dance?”

  “Of course I will, Clyde.” She tossed her glossy black curls adding to the artful disarray that was caught up on top of her head with a green ribbon and allowed to cascade to her shoulders. The palest apricot silk of her dress matched the healthy blush on her cheeks and the emerald green satin ribbons twined around her slim waist brought out the green sparks in her eyes.

  Clyde could hardly keep his eyes away from the much revealed bosom that curved enticingly above her décolletage, and the huge dully gleaming emerald nestled in the soft cleft drew his attention like a magnet. Could any jewel have a more perfect setting? So instead he concentrated on the assured smile on her lips and breathed a sigh of momentary relief as he draped a lace shawl over her shoulders and the exciting expanse of bare skin was partly concealed from view.

  He was burning for her and as he handed Angela into his carriage Clyde wondered how he would manage to get through the evening without making advances. She’s married, he reminded himself a thousand times as they drove through the fragrant evening, but he was sweating beneath the heavy uniform and his breath was as short as a nervous schoolboy in the presence of a beloved goddess.

  Under cover of darkness Government House took on an aura of beauty that was dispelled in the harsh daylight. As they waited in the line of carriages Angela noted the sweet scent of orange blossoms. The columns supporting the veranda were twined with vines and beneath the wide overhang were decorations of orange tree branches and many different colorful flowers interspersed with lamps. The rich foliage gave the entrance to the house the desired festive atmosphere.

  A huge saffron moon rose over the cove gilding a wavering pathway on the waters. Angela leaned back against the seat and smiled to herself, turning her head to one side. She would never get used to an upside down man in the moon.

  Clyde took her gloved hand in his. “Look,” he said with a slight nod of his head. “The first evening star.” It was huge and brilliant against the blue-black softness of a cloudless sky.

  With his head bent close to hers in the concealing night he whispered in her ear, “You are like that star, Angela—distant and dazzling. When the others appear they are insignificant. Only you outshine the moon, the night.” Her fingers curled warmly against his and she sighed so softly he wondered if it was only the gentle breeze.

  A moment later she sat stiffly upright looking wildly about her, searching for she knew not what in the night. Angela’s heart fluttered like a caged bird beating with frantic wings against her ribs. Her breath came in short gasps and Clyde could feel the tension suffuse her whole body.

  “What is it?” he asked alarmed. “Do you feel faint?”

  Faint! She felt wonderfully, radiantly alive, all her senses perceptively alert to the scene around her. She surged to her feet scanning the shadowy forms of the people inhabiting the other vehicles patiently awaiting their turn to alight. What was the matter with her? Angela didn’t know herself, only that something was about to unfold before her eyes. It was like waiting in a dim theater for the play to begin.

  “Are you all right, Angela?”

  She sat down and tried to calm herself but that strange exhilaration wouldn’t be stilled. The eyes she turned to Clyde caught the light glowing like big cat’s eyes. He could feel the trembling of her body beside him and even though the reaction had come immediately after his veiled allusion to his feelings for her, he knew her reaction came not from himself but from an outside source.

  He too looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Could it be that she was high strung and nervous about her first ball in Sydney? Clyde dismissed that as soon as it popped into his mind. Not this woman who had remained unflustered in the company of princes and kings. Her actions made him uneasy and he was only too glad when they descended from the carriage and swept in through the front door.

  The business of formal greetings and introductions seemed to settle Angela down a bit but Clyde noticed the way her aquamarine eyes flitted restlessly from one face to another. She smiled and chatted easily but he had the feeling she was only half there, caught up in an emotional happening even she didn’t quite understand.

  The fifty-foot-long reception room was elegantly decked with huge vases of exotic flowers, flickering candles, and a press of local gentry eagerly craning their necks for a glimpse of Angela. The flush of her cheeks was pronounced and her eyes sparkled as if with a fe
ver. The emerald felt hot and heavy, glowing against her flesh and Angela snapped open her fan to try and cool the still air.

  All the time she couldn’t help thinking that Scott was near. But that was impossible! What would a convict be doing at the governor’s ball? It was a flight of fantasy to even imagine it. But hadn’t she always had an overactive imagination? Scott had chided her about it often enough. Still she couldn’t help hoping, couldn’t keep her eyes still or her heart hushed.

  Then Angela’s attention riveted on a group across the room. One woman laughed gaily, surrounded by a crowd of eager suitors. She was tall and Junoesque with heavy auburn hair. She wore a pale sea-green dress and her hazel eyes met Angela’s spanning the distance.

  Never in her life had Angela felt such an intense hatred of any woman at first sight! The air fairly crackled between the two and Angela felt ice enter into her veins. They stared at each other in a silent duel and she sensed that the woman felt the same antipathy she did.

  It was all so odd and over in a split second as dinner was announced and Clyde escorted Angela into the dining room.

  The rest of the night passed in a haze of laughter, music, and dancing. Angela’s dance card was full and she whirled on the polished floor until she was dizzy. She drank too much champagne and Clyde took her for a cooling walk in the garden. He kissed her once, passionately but briefly and it was as if it had happened to someone else, not her.

  five

  She wore a dress of daffodil-yellow muslin embroidered in green and it reminded her of a far-off golden day spent by a lake in early spring. A secret smile curved Angela’s lips. She had dreamed about that unforgettable time last night—perhaps that was why she chose the dress.

  The children bounced into her room all set for the outing she had promised them. They chattered excitedly all at the same time looking forward eagerly to the picnic they had planned. She kissed Lorna and Clare and rumpled Robert’s brown hair-for at the grown up age of five he tried to squirm out of any embrace. But that would change, she mused, if he was anything like his father.

  “Are we all ready?” Angela teased, looking around the room thoughtfully as if she had forgotten something.

  “Yes!” exclaimed Lorna and Robert at the same time and Clare repeated it after them.

  “She’s learning to talk, Mama,” observed Lorna wisely as if she herself was the mother of a prodigy.

  “And about time too!” said Angela scooping up the toddler.

  “Ezra has the carriage all ready,” Robert told them hopping restlessly about the room. “And I helped Maggie pack the hamper.”

  “I wanted to do it,” shouted Lorna. “What’s in it?”

  “I’m not telling,” laughed Robert secretively. “You were too busy trying to get Clare to say ‘Papa.’”

  “Papa, Papa,” gurgled Clare quite content now that she was in Angela’s arms.

  “She said it!” Robert hooted with glee. “She wouldn’t say it for Lorna but she said it for me!” He ran from the room with Lorna streaking after him.

  “Mama, Mama!” Clare laid her head against Angela’s breast and breathed in the wonderful wildflower scent that meant her mother. Her little hands stroked Angela’s hair as she nestled contentedly.

  “Yes, little one,” sighed Angela, her carefree mood broken, “at least you have a mother, my poor fatherless Clare! But what a one you chose.”

  On her way out she stopped at the kitchen and greeted Kate and Maggie. The girls were a wonderful find and flourished under a little attention and good food. Once Angela gave orders she didn’t have to think about them again. The efficient Murrays were hard workers and knew how to get things done.

  Kate was visibly excited as she removed a big apron and smoothed her new dark-blue dress. She was going along to watch the children. If only Maggie could go too—but that would be asking too much. This way she could tell her sister all about the day when she returned. If their situations had been reversed she would never find out what happened because, as everyone knew, Maggie never spoke. So Kate hefted the weighty hamper and headed for the door.

  “And what delicious culinary delights did you make for our picnic?” Angela asked not expecting an answer. “You are a wonder in the kitchen, Maggie. Why at this rate I’ll be so fat and matronly by the time I find my husband that he will never recognize me!”

  A shy smile lit up her pointed face at the compliment and the ludicrous mental picture of a corpulent Lady Harrington. Why she was like a fairy princess that had rescued them from misery and degradation. Maggie Murray would have gladly laid down her life for the duchess.

  It was a perfect day for a picnic. The sky was full of little white cotton-puffs of clouds that provided some shade but promised no rain. The spell of blistering weather had broken and a cooling breeze swept in from the cove like a warm spring day. The Cygnet bobbed gently at anchor and other smaller craft went about their daily business.

  The windmills, used for grinding corn, were silhouetted against the brilliant blue sky and beyond them was the mysterious bush and the hazy unreality of the Blue Mountains. Today they were purple-shadowed, a smudge on the horizon and Angela thought of Clyde and his enthusiastic imaginings about what lay on the other side. Somehow she had a feeling that Clyde would stay in this strange new land that was slowly winning him away from the tame civilization of the place they called home. There was no doubt that there was something rugged and exciting about Australia.

  After the vista of the bush, the mountains, and the sea Hyde Park was tame by comparison. Ezra spread two big rugs beneath a shady tree not far from a pond with blue water lilies. A kookaburra laughed at them from the trees as they fell upon the picnic lunch with ravenous appetites and devoured the meal. Replete with his favorite apple tart Robert scattered the few remaining crumbs for the birds. He and Lorna ran off to play beneath the watchful eyes of Kate.

  Angela leaned back against the tree with Clare’s sleepy head on her lap watching as Lorna launched a very battered toy boat on the pond. “I still remember the day he gave Lorna that boat,” she said to Ezra. “He was so sure she was a boy and brought a boat. Little did I know then that boats and lead soldiers would suit her.

  “Sometimes, Ezra, I get such feelings about things—almost as if I know something important is going to happen. I felt like that last night as we were arriving at Government House. I was so sure I would find Scott last night, but I didn’t.”

  “Maybe you’re wishing it to happen so intensely. . .”

  “No. There was an incident at the ball—if you could call it that. There was a woman and we looked at each other and I hated her the instant I saw her.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know,” she puzzled staring off into nothingness. “We were never introduced and never spoke, but it was so strange. How could I hate someone I have never met, and how could she hate me?”

  “I hated Annee Wallace on sight,” Ezra said.

  “But that was different. She had just bought you. There’s no comparison in situations. I’ll have to ask Clyde if he knows her.”

  “Clyde is in love with you.”

  “I know,” Angela sighed with a frown. “He has been since the day I met him on the Isle of Skye. But what can I do? I certainly don’t encourage him.”

  “Men just have to look at you to fall in love at first sight.”

  “I’m afraid I talked too much when I was sick and you know far too much about me, Ezra. I hope the rest of my life goes at a slightly less frantic pace.”

  “Yes, you could use a rest from adventures.”

  “Umm,” agreed Angela dreamily, “a long lovely rest—after I find Scott. We never did have a honeymoon. I don’t care where we go as long as we are together. But I’m dreaming again. Where is that man? Everyone in the colony knows of my arrival. You would think he was hiding from me.”

  Ezra was silent for a few minutes and then he said, “A man would have to be a fool to do that. Have you thought that he might
be in Van Diemen’s Land?”

  She nodded slowly but although she had considered that Scott might be there she didn’t want to believe it. They said it was a living hell where only the incorrigibles, the most hardened and desperate criminals were sent. Convicts that committed new crimes in New South Wales were transported again—to that island. Angela had thought the ragged, subhuman chain gangs pitiful, but being sent to Van Diemen’s Land was a fate worse than death. Men begged to be hanged rather than be sent there.

  The forced labor was brutal and if they didn’t die from that then there was slow starvation, floggings, disease—they died like flies on that wretched island. Angela could not quite bring herself to imagine Scott there, for to do that was like condemning him to death in her mind and her mind could not accept that—yet. Not until Sydney and Parramatta and the Hawkesbury had been searched with a fine-toothed comb, not until every convict in every outpost settlement was examined by her personally.

  Laying the sleeping Clare carefully on the rug Angela got to her feet. All the lazy contentedness had gone out of the day and a fear that had weighed on her came back anew. She remembered with painful clarity the agony that had accompanied Keith’s announcement of Scott’s death. No! No! she screamed inside her whole being, it can’t be. There would be no reason then to go on.

  She started walking, she couldn’t stay still now with so many fears preying on her mind. Ezra gave a curt order to Kate and went after Angela, catching up with her easily although she was walking very fast.

  “My lady!” He grabbed her arm, much upset by the abstracted look of her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. If I could take it back and then cut out my tongue so that the words had never been uttered I would! He’s not in Van Diemen’s Land, he’s here, somewhere! Maybe you will run into him around the next corner....”