Lizzie, My Love

by Sara Bennett - Lizzie, My Love

  “Lizzie?”

  Lizzie covered her sister’s hand, her dark eyes worried. “If you mean to marry him Jane, I can hardly prevent it. I only want you to be happy. But surely... Oh Jane, he’s not at all what I had hoped!”

  Jane’s blue eyes gleamed with sudden anger. “Because of what he was honest enough to tell us? He needn’t have, you know, Liz. He could have kept his mouth shut, and we’d have never known, would we? And so what? I’ve been to the House of Correction myself, haven’t I?”

  “That’s different!”

  Jane drew back, and Lizzie saw two pink spots of fury in her cheeks. Like a wild animal protecting her mate, she thought wryly.

  “I know you don’t like him, Liz. I can’t help that, and I don’t care much. I happen to love him. And what of our dear father, Liz, what of him?”

  “I do like him, I...” Lizzie frowned, puzzled. “Pa? He died in an accident at the docks, you know that!”

  Jane shook her head slowly, and she looked suddenly so much like their mother that Lizzie bit her lip.

  “No he didn’t, Lizzie. Mama told me once, when I was bad. I forget what I did, but Mama was upset and she said I’d go the same way of me Da, and I never forgot it, small as I was at the time. ‘You’ll go bad like him’, she said, ‘and they’ll come and take you away, like him. And I’ll never see you again outside bars, either’.”

  Lizzie had gone perfectly white. “Oh Jane, don’t.”

  The two girls stared at each other.

  “I’m sorry, but you were acting so lily-pure, and... we’re no better than Johnny. He’s good and kind and true, and no one can ask more of a man than that!”

  Lizzie bowed her head, beaten. “You’ve grown up,” she said. She was sad for it, though she knew the feeling to be wholly selfish. She had cared for Jane for so long, she felt that she would be rather at a loss without her there to boss and look after.

  “I’ll go and tell Johnny you agree to it,” Jane said, and was off to find him, skirts flying as she ran, blonde hair bouncing.

  Lizzie watched her go, and foolishly wiped away a tear.

  “Oh Mama,” she whispered, “I never knew. Why didn’t you say?”

  But she knew why. Lizzie had been so respectable, and so proud of it, too. Lizzie would have been mortified at the knowledge, and Mama knew that. Working in that big, London town house had made her think she was a cut above the rest. Her mother had been so proud of her! Lizzie sighed.

  Johnny came, plaiting his hat brim between dusty fingers.

  “Lizzie.”

  Jane stood behind him, gentle loving mockery in her eyes. She gave him a bit of a nudge, and Lizzie decided wryly that that was just what she would be doing for the rest of their lives together.

  “Jane tells me you’re agreeable to our wedding,” he said, pale eyes anxious. “We want to marry as soon as practicable.”

  ‘”She has no dress, no... no...”

  Jane made a face. “Where would I get a weddin’ dress from? And what would I pay for it with? And what on earth would I do with it afterwards?”

  “But Mama always hoped... oh Jane, you know you look so lovely in white!”

  Jane shrugged. “That’s as maybe,” she said practically, “but it’s not something that’ll matter much. What matters is to be wed, and start building this place up, and being with Johnny.”

  He looked at her, and Lizzie felt pain at the expression in his eyes. If only a man would look at her like that; as if she were the whole reason and delight of his life! She bit down on the thought and sighed. No man ever would; she was not the kind of girl for whom men formed unreasonable passions.

  “Nothing I can say will make the slightest difference,” she said. “So you may as well go ahead.”

  Jane danced about a few steps in excitement. “Johnny says there’s a minister up at Evanstown, who has services in his house there. But we can get him down here to wed us. Oh Lizzie!”

  Lizzie stood up. “Well then, there’s no time to waste, is there? We’ll have to fix you up a dress, my girl, even if it’s not a wedding dress, and see to supper for the guests and... There will be guests?”

  Johnny nodded, smiling wryly. “Aye, there will be. Everyone comes to a wedding.”

  Jane’s eyes shone. “I never thought,” she said, “when I came to Sydney Town, I’d meet my husband the very day I landed!”

  After that the time flew. The minister was contacted, and during the intervening days Lizzie stitched to transform one of Jane’s old gowns into something approaching beauty. There were flowers and lace for her hair, and more wild flowers to sew into the hem of her gown on the day. Lizzie cooked up a fine spread, with all the basics she could find. Whatever else went wrong, they would have enough to eat! Despite their hard work, it amazed her that everything was ready on the day. It seemed impossible that Jane was to be married, and to a... but she mustn’t think of that! Jane to be married, and Lizzie bridesmaid, and so much to do.

  Johnny rode out early to get the minister, and while he was gone Jane and Lizzie dressed and set up the taproom as best they could with flowers and dried straw for the earth floor. When Jane was ready, Lizzie stood back to view her properly—pink gown, bright flowers sewn into it and worked into the girl’s fair, shining hair.

  “You look a treat,” she said softly, and patted her sister’s hand.

  “I feel so calm,” Jane murmured. “I thought I would be all a-shake, but I’m so quiet and calm, Lizzie.”

  “Well that’s all to the good, love. Now hush, I hear someone coming. And for God’s sake, don’t go dragging out into the yard and getting yourself all dusty!”

  She went outside, shading her eyes to the noon sun. A dark horse came around the corner, kicking up dust into the still air. The rider wore a black jacket and light breeches, with highly polished boots. No man of religion that she’d heard of would wear such boots!

  “Miss Banister,” he said, halting only feet from where she stood. His horse stamped, and tossed its head, but Lizzie refused on principle to back away.

  “Mr. Gray,” she said politely, as if he were paying a call in London rather than the isolation of the Australian bush, and as if it hadn’t been several weeks since she clapped eyes on his mocking, frighteningly handsome exterior.

  “You’re looking much better than when I last saw you,” he added, a distinct gleam in his black eyes.

  His hair was windblown, and dusty, and dust layered his clothing, but he still contrived to look better than any man she had ever seen. Unconsciously she smoothed her clean skirts, and tucked in a stray curl where it had escaped the rigid coiffure she had affected for the wedding—until she realized what she was about and jerked her hands away.

  “You’re thinner than you should be, though,” he frowned, the lines on his face deepening. “And I like you better with your hair loose.”

  She realized then, with a start, that they had been staring at each other for some moments, reconfirming certain points and items of memory.

  “Indeed! Perhaps you would care for a drink, Mr. Gray. I should perhaps warn you, however, that my sister is being married as soon as the reverend arrives...”

  He had dismounted, and had been searching in his saddle-bags for something, but now looked up with a faint smile. “I did know, Miss Banister. Your sister wrote me a very neat little invitation, and I was fortunately able to accept. I left her my address, in case... well, just in case. Wonderful news, isn’t it?”

  “Your attendance or the wedding?”

  “The wedding, of course.”

  “Wonderful.” But she sounded sour. He narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”

  Whether she would have or not was debatable, but at that moment Jane appeared in her finery, and came hurrying towards him. “Mr. Gray! I’m so glad you came. You are to be our best man!”

  He laughed his soft laugh, and caught her about the waist, stooping to kiss her cheek with a warmth Lizzie found rat
her obscene.

  “I believe the best man has a right to kiss the bride,” he said, and Jane blushed. “I’ve brought you a present, too.” He gave her the packet from his saddle-bag.

  “Oh, thank you. But you must be thirsty! Lizzie, go and get Mr. Gray a drink of our best ale, while I explain to him what he must do.”

  Lizzie pulled a face and stomped inside. Once there, she took a number of deep breaths, telling herself she was a fool to be so upset by the sight of that handsome, experienced face. Why on earth had Jane invited him? But still, the damage was done. She must just avoid him as much as possible, and pray he didn’t seek her out.

  By the time she returned, the couple were seated on the bench outside, heads close. Jane took the tankard and handed it to Zek, smiling it seemed with an effort. He drank a good half before looking up at Lizzie.

  “Thank you. I’ve ridden hard for quite a few hours to get here on time. I needed that.”

  Jane stood up, shaking out her pink skirts. “Excuse me,” she said, her face curiously expressionless, “I have things to attend to.”

  Lizzie glared at her, but Jane kept her face averted until she reached the tavern and disappeared inside. Gray was watching her when she turned back to him, a curiously searching expression in his eyes, and she frowned.

  “What do you intend to do when they’re married?” he asked softly.

  She lifted her eyebrows at his presumption. “I haven’t thought about it,” she said coolly, thinking that that would put him in his place. In fact, she had thought of nothing else.

  “You don’t intend to stay here, surely,” he went on. “Jane will need to be mistress of the house, and she can hardly be that with you lording it over everything.”

  She flushed angrily. “I hardly think that it concerns you!”

  “No?” There was a pause while he looked down into the tankard, where he held it in laced fingers. “I have a proposition to put before you, Miss Lizzie Banister.” She opened her mouth. “And don’t you dare say what you’re going to say!”

  She glared at him in silence, before he dropped his gaze once more to the tankard.

  “I need someone to see to the house and generally look after me. A housekeeper, if you like. The position would be well paid, and though the conditions are probably not London town house standard, I’m sure you’ll soon adapt to them.”

  “Housekeeper!”

  “Generally speaking, yes.”

  “I should have thought you’d prefer someone more... willing to conform to your standards, Mr. Gray.”

  “Now what the devil is that supposed to mean?”

  His anger shone clearly in his eyes, and for a moment she was startled by it. But she stood her ground, knowing she was in the right, and forced her voice to remain infuriatingly cool and calm.

  “Mean? I thought that was obvious.”

  “Miss Banister, you’re clearly not needed here. You’re looking for work and accommodation. I can offer both, and pay you for them. You have only to answer me yes or no.”

  She bit her lip. Put like that it was almost tempting... and yet she must be a fool for contemplating such a thing. Why did the idea give her such a thrill of excitement? Perhaps because she knew it was a daring, un-cooklike thing to do. She loathed him and knew him for what he was, and yet... there was something about pitting her wits against his that made her feel more alive than she had in a long, long time.

  “Can I give you my answer after the wedding?” she muttered gruffly.

  “Of course,” he said, and smiled. It was too bland a smile, and mockery gleamed in his dark eyes. She glared back.

  Jane was returning to join them, and the conversation was at an end. After a moment Johnny too arrived, with the minister in tow and a number of other folk from Evanstown. All future thoughts were forgotten in the babble and bustle of the present. More guests began arriving, bringing their children with them. Lizzie found herself holding a baby, which dribbled on her shoulder and sobbed alarmingly when she smiled at it.

  “You’ve such a way with children,” Zek Gray murmured in her ear.

  He took the child from her, and minutes later it was laughing. Lizzie turned her back, and bent stiffly to handing around plates of cakes.

  The ceremony went smoothly enough. Jane and Johnny stood together before the minister, and Lizzie and Zek stood behind. Lizzie found herself unaccountably tearful and once, when wiping her cheeks in a manner she thought surreptitious, turned to find him watching her. His face creased immediately into what she privately called ‘the mocking look’, and bending towards her he murmured, “Never mind. You know what they say. First a bridesmaid, then a bride.”

  Gazing stonily in front of her, she wondered what it was about him that seemed to bring out the worst feelings in her. Cook would have been amazed at the sheer savagery of her thoughts at this moment, for instance. Not like prim and proper Lizzie Banister at all.

  The celebrations began the moment the minister had spoken the last words, and with a whoop the men began to claim kisses from the bride. Food was consumed, and drink was drunk. One of the guests had brought a Jew’s harp, and they danced to that with much enthusiasm if little expertise. There wasn’t much room, and a lot of the merriment spilled outside into the moonlight.

  Jane, flushed and beautiful, danced with them all. The straw and dust kicked up by their feet was choking, and Lizzie, sitting by the wall, foot tapping under cover of her skirts, found herself sneezing with the rest. She watched in some disgust as Zek Gray joined in the dancing, partnering the women and enjoying himself quite unselfconsciously. Trust him to make a fool of himself, Lizzie thought smugly, and concentrated on being above such common things.

  The man was a flirt. Just look at the way he was speaking to that red head! Black eyes bold as brass, and the very way he smiled was indecent. There he stood, completely at ease; a teasing, laughing heartbreaking devil!

  He and Jane danced, and finished with much laughter. Then Johnny claimed her, holding her close, and by the ecstatic look on her sister’s face Lizzie knew this dance meant more than all the rest. She was torn between gladness and sorrow. Jane had not made a good marriage, in the social sense, and yet... ‘good’ marriages were often hell to the parties concerned. She sighed, the problem too great for her tired brain.

  She had closed her eyes momentarily, but the presence of someone standing over her was so oppressive, she opened them with a start, finding herself looking straight up into those only too familiar bold ones.

  “Dance, Miss Banister?” he said softly, and held out his hand.

  She eyed it with misgivings.

  “I consider dancing undignified,” she told him sternly, smoothing her skirts of imaginary wrinkles. “But thank you for asking, Mr. Gray.” If he were a gentleman, she thought, that would be the end of the matter.

  She dared a glance through her lashes and saw that his eyes had gone quite cool. Next thing he had caught her arm and was heaving her to her feet. Someone laughed, and another cheered. Lizzie struggled in mortification, but he pulled her against him, sliding his arms about her to hold her still. His quiet voice whispered into her ear; sending shivers up and down her spine.

  “You’ll dance, Lizzie Banister, or I’ll turn you over my knee...”

  Her head went back, and she stared into his admittedly beautiful eyes. “I’ll never forgive you for this,” she hissed. “Never!”

  He laughed as he swung her around, pulling her back hard against his body, and she found her feet forced to follow the rhythm of his, her skirts swirling with every turn and twist.

  “No gentleman would hold a lady so close,” she gasped, when his hand spread over the small of her back. She could feel every wrinkle of his clothing, every muscle of his body, and ... he was a man! Such a thing had never happened to Lizzie before. Even her drunken admirer had not held her so tightly. “I said ...” she began again, her voice breathless.

  “I heard you Lizzie,” he said, his voice stirring wisps of hai
r that the dancing had loosened about her face. “I was trying to pretend you were enjoying this as much as I am. Stop worrying. You’re doing beautifully. If you’d let yourself go, you’d be as good a dancer as your sister.”

  She opened her mouth, and shut it again. She had been terrified of dancing, of making a fool of herself. How had he known that? And how dare he tell her he knew! A gentleman would have... She caught Jane’s approving eye in the middle of the thought, and her face flushed. She even found herself smiling, and wondered how she could have forgotten herself so easily.

  Zek Gray twirled her around and around, until her head spun and she clung to him helplessly. She didn’t realize they were outside until the cool air struck her flushed, warm face, and she opened her eyes to the stars. He was still holding her, looking down at her. She thought he was going to kiss her, and waited in trepidation.

  “Well?” he said, slightly breathless. His eyes laughed at her, reading her thoughts correctly.

  For a moment she didn’t know what he was talking about, and then it came flooding back. “I don’t...”

  “Come Lizzie, you’ve no choice,” he cut in impatiently. “You needn’t see much of me, if that’s what’s worrying you. I’m working all day and only come in at night, and then I’m too tired to do much more than eat and sleep. Certainly too tired to break down doors and force myself upon shrinking maidens. Your so-called virtue is quite safe where I’m concerned.”

  She sniffed. “I thought no such thing! How dare you insinuate...”

  “Lizzie,” he said, and despite the softness of it she came to a halt, looking up at him rather uncertainly. “Well?” he asked again.

  “Despite your insults, Mr. Gray, I can see the good points in your offer. I need the work and the money. I agree to be your housekeeper.”

  His hands were still holding her arms, and now they tightened. “You sound as if I’ve just sentenced you to ten years’ hard labor,” he retorted sarcastically.

  She said nothing, remembering her father, and wondering what he would say if she mentioned the fact that he was a man who had been in prison. The stillness enclosed them. After a moment she felt his breath stirring her hair, but dared not look up.