Toward Love's Horizon

by Michele du Barry

  “What do you remember?”

  “Our toast, talking in front of the fire, that’s all!” There was a sharp edge to her voice that sliced through his own misery.

  “After that I left and I was just getting ready to go to bed when one of the servants brought your note. I was overjoyed, Angela; I couldn’t believe my eyes and—”

  “What note?”

  “The one you sent me begging me to come back.”

  “I sent no note!”

  “But—but—you wrote you had a quarrel with Scott and needed someone to talk to. So I came and you were upset, crying and carrying on. We finished the wine and then we kissed and you wanted me to make love to you—”

  “I don’t believe it! Liar!” but as she looked at his puzzled innocence she wavered. Then a thought stung her like an arrow loosed from a bow. “Celeste!”

  “Huh? What’s she got to do with this?”

  “Finish,” Angela told him.

  “Where was I? Oh, we made love. Sweetheart, you were wonderful—”

  “Go on, Clyde!”

  “And—and then we did it again and Scott and Celeste came in and saw us. He went crazy, trying to choke you and I dragged him off and we fought. I think he knocked me out because I don’t remember anything else, I don’t even remember getting back in bed.”

  “Scott! Oh no! Celeste! It’s all her doing!” She shook like a ship caught in a storm, torn apart by swelling emotions. “The wine, where did you get it?”

  “Why, from Celeste.”

  “And the note, where is it?”

  “You said to burn it and I did.”

  Covering her face with her hands Angela sat very still dazed by her discovery. When she looked at Clyde’s concerned face again her eyes were hard and cold with concentrated hate, but not for him.

  “Celeste put something in that wine. She sent you the note. She cleverly arranged this whole scheme in order to get back at me.”

  Now her dreams started making sense: Scott’s angry shocked eyes boring into her while he made love to her, but at the same time he was standing at the door with Celeste, and her lover turned into Clyde.

  “What must he think of me?” she cried, her heart tearing in her breast. “He will never believe I didn’t do this on purpose! He saw you making love to me! Never will Scott forgive me—never!”

  Angela collapsed in a heap, frenzied sobs of anguish torn from her bruised throat. Everything had been perfect until that interfering, vindictive bitch had decided to tamper with their lives. What could she do or say to convince Scott that she was an innocent pawn in Celeste’s game of revenge? Nothing! Not when he had seen her committing adultery with his own eyes. This was the end .... at last.

  “Please don’t cry,” Clyde pleaded stroking her quivering shoulders. “He will believe you. I’ll go to Scott myself and tell him what happened....”

  “No! No! Get out, Clyde! Go now—I have to be alone!”

  So he dressed quickly, leaving Angela to her distress and she didn’t see his pained smile of accomplishment because her eyes were blinded with tears.

  When she returned to her senses again, hours later, Angela was determined not to knuckle under to Celeste. She would tell Scott the truth whether he wanted to hear it or not, whether he believed it or not. At least she must try because she was no quitter and now she was fighting mad.

  Several more hours were spent bathing and applying cold compresses to her eyes and jaw. Then Angela dressed in her riding costume and examined herself in the small mirror. Passable, but the bruises were unmistakable even though the swelling had gone down. She tied a silk scarf around her neck and it concealed the marks from Scott’s fingers. Taking a deep steadying breath she marched out the door, her back straight with determination.

  It took over an hour of riding over the estate questioning farmhands before Angela found him. When she did he was surrounded by people and sheep and his eyes registered an instant loathing.

  “I have to talk to you,” she told him, “now!”

  “I’m busy, and we have nothing to say to one another.” His voice was without emotion, almost as if it had all been drained out of him at the scene last night.

  “I will speak here—right in front of everyone if you wish,” Angela told him stubbornly and he saw the defiant tilt of her chin.

  He touched his heels to his horse and it sprang off with her following closely. They rode some distance until they were completely alone and he stopped, staying mounted as if he was anxious to have a troublesome interview over with. Scott was unmoved by the mark on her face and the loving torment in her eyes. If she was suffering, she deserved it and he hoped she felt the same agony that was gnawing away his insides.

  “Well,” he prompted impatiently. “We are alone now. Say what you must and then get out of my sight.”

  “What happened last night was none of my doing. It was all Celeste’s fault, a plot to separate us.” Angela swallowed the lump in her throat. He wasn’t even helping by asking questions. “Clyde came to make peace with us and brought a bottle of wine—her wine—with him. Of course you weren’t there, so we drank one toast to our long marriage.

  “Celeste drugged the wine! Clyde left but she sent him a note signed with my name, asking him to return. He did and I don’t remember what happened but he said we—we made love and then you came and saw us.

  “Scott, you must believe me! I remember nothing—nothing! Only waking up in the morning with Clyde. I never sent that note; Celeste did. Clyde is not my lover. You are!”

  Scott hadn’t moved an inch. His gold-sprinkled eyes stared at her unconvinced, his expression unchanged. “Are you finished?”

  “No! I love you, only you! Please believe me. Celeste dreamed up this whole evil scheme to avenge herself on me. She wants you—don’t you see? She would do anything to have you, anything, even going so far as to destroy our marriage. Because unless she does you can never be hers.” Angela’s impassioned plea didn’t even affect him.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “But you must, you can’t fall right into her trap! Would you believe Celeste over your own wife?”

  “I take no one’s word on the matter. I saw it with my own eyes.” Scott’s voice was dripping with icicles. “Have you finished now?”

  Angela nodded miserably, scalding tears prickling behind her eyes, a mute request for understanding and mercy in their aquamarine depths.

  “Then I suggest you leave here now and for good.”

  “What about the children? Don’t you care what happens to them?”

  “There are always the children to fall back upon, isn’t that so, Angela? I care very much but since I’m a convict I have no rights. If I was free I would fight you in every court in the land for Lorna and Robert, and I would win. So take them, take everything that has ever meant anything to me and go. I don’t ever want to see you or hear of you again. If I do I don’t think I could be held responsible for the consequences.”

  He wheeled suddenly and left her choking in a cloud of dust and she bent over clutching the pommel, dropping hot tears of defeat on the horse’s thick mane.

  The music box tinkled pleasantly on Lorna’s bedside table bringing a smile to her pale face. The sound only reminded Angela of disaster, but if it made her daughter happy she could stand anything.

  Lorna had had a relapse not long after her return to Sydney and that on top of everything else pressed so heavily on Angela that her heart felt like dead weight. She had Ezra move the small bed into her own room so she could be alert for any change during the night and when the coughing spells occurred she held Lorna with a desperation born of fear and the abject terror of losing her.

  Angela was only half alive, so preoccupied with her personal sorrows that the rest of the world was forgotten. Clyde visited every day watching both mother and daughter become pale shadows of their former selves. He spent a lot of time with the children bringing them special treats, knowing that the way to his beloved’s hea
rt lay in that direction.

  Several different doctors were called up to the house overlooking Cockle Bay and each prescribed different things that did absolutely no good. The Murrays scurried around crossing themselves constantly and Maggie’s fingers were always busy at the highly prized rosary beads Angela had given her. Kate took to muttering under her breath and Ezra wondered if it was papist prayers she was reciting as she went about her work.

  They all worked tirelessly to make Lorna comfortable and to try and provide a normal atmosphere for Robert and Clare to live in. But as the weeks passed the tension increased until Clyde thought something must happen or Angela would snap.

  “Mama, could you wind it again?” asked Lorna and Angela cheerfully complied, never letting her oldest daughter detect the worry she felt all the time.

  She smiled and smoothed the warm flushed cheeks, holding the precious dark head against her breast. Lorna was her first-born child, herself as a little girl but with a dash of Scott added for spice. She could hardly believe that her baby was almost nine years old, so grown up. She could remember her crying lustily, a tiny scrap of humanity, still wet from her womb. And now she was like a faded rose and Angela wondered with a catch in her throat if she would ever survive long enough to grow up.

  Weak lungs, the doctor said, brought on by her illness but inherited from her grandmother. Angela could picture her mother, an invalid for half her life with the same flushed face and those too-brilliant eyes. It had always been a struggle for her father and a burden on the whole family. Hadn’t she sold herself to Percy Harrington so her mother could have special care and a warm climate? Her life was coming full circle and she would have bargained with the devil himself to save Lorna.

  Maggie came in to relieve her and Angela affectionately tousled Lorna’s black curls before leaving her to the convict girl’s gentle care. Clyde was in the garden with Robert and Clare so she didn’t want to go out there. Wandering around the house like a lost soul she finally came to rest in the sitting room and gazed vacantly out at the bay.

  If only Scott was here. Should she send for him? No, he wouldn’t come. He would probably think it was a trick to get him back. You always fall back on the children, he had told her. No, that wouldn’t bring him to Sydney. She would send Ezra first thing in the morning. Ezra could convince him and if he couldn’t he could always abduct Scott. That brought a brief smile to her lips. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? He had abducted her at one time when he was losing her to another man—why not turn the tables on him? Have Ezra carry him off out of Celeste’s clutches and keep Scott a prisoner in some remote spot, better yet set sail with him. It would be a long voyage with no landfall for months.

  The idea excited her making her blood race and her hopes rise for the first time since leaving Thornhill. Angela laughed out loud at Celeste’s imagined chagrin when she found her lover gone.

  “You’re in a better mood today,” observed Ezra entering the room and sitting opposite her. “Is the princess better?”

  “No, but I think we may all go on a nice long sea voyage for our health.”

  “You would leave here without the man you came for?”

  “Oh no!” Angela sprang to her feet, barely able to keep still. “You are going to shanghai Scott! He will be at my mercy!”

  “Hey, that’s a good one! When am I going to spirit him away, and how?”

  “As soon as we are fit to sail—and I think I will drug him, since everyone else finds that method so satisfactory.”

  “I almost believe you would do it,” said Ezra shaking his head in amazement.

  “Just watch me!” Angela promised, elation taking over completely. She would get Scott back yet!

  The whole day was suddenly rosy and Clyde couldn’t believe that the revitalized creature running to greet him in the garden was the same Angela he had seen yesterday. There was a secret sparkle in her eyes and as they talked her dimples came and went for no reason at all that he could discern. He almost asked her if she had news from Scott but decided not to rock the boat. If she was happy today, for whatever reason, it was enough just to bask in the warmth of her smile.

  When Captain Macdonald left that evening, after having been invited to dinner and reveling in the simple familylike gathering, his step was jaunty and he whistled cheerfully. Angela was at long last forgetting her past and settling her affections on him. There was no doubt in his light heart that this was so. Her behavior had undergone a critical change and all because of his devoted perseverance in the face of overwhelming adversity—and his steadfast loyalty in her times of trouble.

  “I don’t trust him,” Ezra admitted to Angela as they sat on the veranda watching Clyde leave. “He had as much to gain as Celeste did.”

  “What do you mean, Ezra?” She was only half listening, still absorbed in her fancy of abducting Scott.

  “Clyde is in love with you. You are aware of that, aren’t you? His story is too pat. I think he and Celeste cooked up that whole scheme so each of them could have their heart’s desire. She wanted Scott, he wanted you.”

  Angela leaned forward suddenly interested in his train of thought. “Go on—what else?”

  “I think it was a joint venture. I have no proof, just a feeling. You have always believed in feelings.” Ezra tilted his chair back on two legs, pondering the night sky. “Why did one glass of wine affect you and not him? If his was drugged it should have knocked him senseless too. Yet he went back to the house and later returned to the cabin, supposedly sharing the rest of the wine with you.

  “By that time I don’t think he could have fallen out of bed, never mind make love to you twice. Don’t you see, it was a trap all set and ready to spring. Their timing was perfect. You remember part of what happened—he woke you up!”

  “Oh, Ezra! I think you are right!” Angela cried. “What a terrible thing to do to a friend! I’ll kill him! No, first I’ll make him confess it to Scott and then kill him!”

  She buried her face in her hands. “Why?” Her voice was very small and lost. “Why is it that I bring out the worst in people? The ones I really trust, turn on me—Keith and now Clyde.”

  “They loved too much, and excesses are never good. Each one of them in his own way, wanted you and had to make sure he got you—by whatever means. They forgot the first rule of loving, caring only that the one you love is happy. Love cannot be bought or stolen or commanded—it just is!”

  The unveiling of Clyde’s deceit left Angela sad and angry but at the same time hopeful of settling the breach between herself and Scott. Maybe she wouldn’t have to shanghai him after all but just reveal the truth. Celeste would probably never admit it but Angela knew that she could force Clyde to break down.

  They sat talking long into the night, losing all track of time when Maggie appeared gesturing wildly. Both of them ran after her into the bedroom.

  Lorna lay propped up on four pillows with her black hair plaited into two thick braids. Angela touched her forehead and found her burning with fever. The little girl’s eyes opened and she smiled at her mother, feeling secure with her presence.

  “Mama.” Her labored breathing barely allowed her to speak. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Shh! I’ll stay right here, baby. Close your eyes and sleep—yes, that’s right. I will be here all night.” Maggie laid a cool cloth on her forehead and Angela turned luminous eyes filled with dread toward Ezra. He squeezed her hand comfortingly and she wouldn’t let it go. An hour later he went for the doctor.

  Angela kept a silent vigil by Lorna’s bedside bathing the thin, wasted body in cool water. She was worse, delirious and incoherent though she seemed to recognize her mother. And when she was seized with the violence of a racking cough there were specks of blood on her pillows.

  Heart-stopping terror took hold of Angela as she held her daughter in her arms staring at the blood. No—no!

  This couldn’t happen to Lorna! Not her! The attack ceased and she was quiet again, breathing very fast aga
inst Angela’s bosom. She stroked the small head as Maggie changed the pillowcases and time did not exist outside the small dimly lit room.

  Ezra returned with no doctor. “He is gone to Toongabbie and his wife doesn’t know when he will be back!”

  “I should never have brought them here,” whispered Angela blaming herself. “This would not have happened at home with good doctors. . .”

  “Don’t, Angela—we can’t foresee the future. It might have happened anyway, anywhere.” Ezra got himself a chair and placed it close by, not daring to leave the room.

  The candles flickered and Angela heard Kate just outside the door murmuring to herself, Maggie’s beads clicking between her fingers. Ezra wrung out another cloth, just to have something to do, and handed it to Angela. She and Maggie continued bathing Lorna’s burning body.

  The ragged breathing slowed and her fever broke. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled wearily at Angela. “Mama.”

  Angela smiled back. “You’re all right now, baby. Soon you will be well and playing with Clare and Robert. We’re going back to England again on the Cygnet— I know how you love ships, Lorna. And your father will come with us. We will all be so happy!”

  “Angela.” The tone of Ezra’s voice was so strange she almost didn’t recognize it.

  She looked at him, back to the peacefully sleeping face of her daughter and then at him again. A stifled sob came from Maggie and her hand was over her mouth, only her brimming eyes visible.

  “Lorna!” Angela gathered the limp child into her arms, rocking her with her cheek pressed against the soft hair.

  And because Ezra was now beyond speech, Maggie said, “She’s gone, milady, gone to join the angels.”

  “Why, Maggie,” said Angela in amazement, “you spoke, you actually talked!”

  “Angela,” Ezra found his voice. “Let me take her. She’s dead.”

  “No—you are wrong. The fever broke.” She clutched her tightly, a dull blank mist enshrouding her from the others in the room.

  Why were they all crying? Ezra, Kate, Maggie. The Murrays were both kneeling by the side of the bed with their red and brown heads bowed, shoulders shaking and hands clasped. The shimmering fog lifted and the room was suddenly cold and lifeless.