Langley nodded. ‘Well done, Johnson. I can’t believe though that you were able to ask all of these questions without arousing suspicions.’
‘I did the best I could, sir.’
‘I suppose you did. Very well, you may go. We’re to be leaving first thing in the morning, remember.’
That afternoon Langley once again requested an interview with his host. Harry Ashford led him to the library with its high, book-lined walls and enormous fireplace, in which a blazing fire tried to dispel the creeping cold of evening. But even the fire could not allay the coldness that was within him.
~*~
Later that afternoon, Louise received a message from her father to join him in the library. He was seated by the fire when she opened the door, staring sightlessly into the flames with an unread book in his hands. She quailed at the expression on his face.
‘Come here, Louise,’ he commanded grimly, rising to his feet.
She moved hesitantly closer, afraid and a little bewildered. What had she done now? Had he heard that she’d seen the child?
‘One would think you’d be satisfied, Louise,’ he began through clenched teeth, ‘with disgracing yourself and bringing shame to your family without telling the world about it. Don’t you care at all?’
She stared at him, stupefied. ‘But I haven’t told a soul!’
‘You’ve done the next best thing! Damn you, haven’t you any discretion? Langley’s no fool! It’s a pity you didn’t pick someone a bit less sharp than he is if you wanted to wear your heart on your sleeve!’
‘Richard?’ She paled. ‘Has he been to see you?’
‘Yes he has, the impertinent young swine. It seems you’ve set your fate at spinsterhood, my girl, for he politely declined the pleasure of marrying you!’
‘Oh, God!’ She groped for a chair and sat heavily. ‘How can he have guessed?’
‘I suppose it wasn’t very difficult.’ Her father’s face was an ugly mottled colour and he clenched and unclenched his fists as if struggling to contain his anger. ‘You made yourself jolly obvious when you saw the child this morning and he set his valet to ask a few questions amongst the servants. You’re determined to ruin us all, you little harlot. Why you had to go near that bastard of yours I’d love to know.’
‘No, you wouldn’t know, would you?’ Stung to anger, Louise’s derision matched his, now. ‘You wouldn’t know what it’s like to love your own flesh and blood! All that concerns you is the family honour and if you want to preserve that perhaps you should look to Charles for a change! I didn’t ask to leave Australia and since I seem to cause you so much embarrassment why not let me return there?’
‘Once Caroline is safely married I don’t care where you go, but if you leave before the wedding it will set the gossips to wondering. Now get out of my sight and don’t ask to see Langley, for he’s already left.’
‘Without a word to me?’
‘I told him to go. Now leave me, if you please.’
Louise did so, hurriedly, slamming the door behind her. She ran up the stairs to her room, in her pain and fury taking them two at a time as she hadn’t done since being severely disciplined by her governess when she was a child. Luckily there were no servants around to see it. She locked her door behind her and paced aggressively about the room for a moment or so before slumping in her chair, her anger giving way to grief. Well, that was her second future in ruins. Was there anything she could salvage from either of them to make a third?
Wildly she imagined snatching her baby in the middle of the night and making off with him to carve a living for herself far away from all the Ashfords and their kind. Yet enough sanity remained to her to question this idea. How would she live? She and the baby would most likely starve, or worse, be driven to depths that only the street-dwellers knew about. That would spite her father, but she wouldn’t sacrifice them both for that.
Her throat ached and tears of self-pity welled to her eyes, but although she wanted to give way to them she couldn’t. It seemed she’d cried too much in the past eighteen months and all her tears were exhausted.
It was some time before she noticed the envelope on her dressing table. She opened it with shaking fingers and took out the sheet of expensive white paper with the Langley crest at its head. At first she hardly dared to read the familiar careless handwriting, so totally in character with Richard Langley.
My dear Louise,
I apologise for leaving without so much as a word to you, but your father ordered me off the premises. No doubt he has apprised you of his reasons.
It is with regret that I am forced to withdraw my offer of marriage. There is very little I can say, but you have my word as a gentleman that this story will go no further from my lips. There are others whom I cannot speak for, however and if I am indirectly responsible for the exposure of this affair I am sorry for that. If it does become public, Australia would be an advisable retreat.
It is fortunate that you gave yourself away this morning, as I would have discovered the truth eventually. A secret like that is difficult to keep. I was prepared to be tolerant, but I could not be that tolerant.
I am quite distressed about this as I have become extremely fond of you, but I am sure you will understand why I had to come to this decision. If we meet again, I hope it may be without embarrassment.
Yours,
Richard Langley.
Louise viciously tore the letter into little pieces and threw them in the grate. The cad. Little he cared what became of her. It seemed no-one cared.
~*~
At church in the village next Sunday Louise was aware of curious glances and whispered words. Richard Langley’s abrupt departure had obviously aroused speculation. She held her head high and bravely sat through it all, although she longed to be elsewhere.
She suspected the servants were talking about her. It was there in their averted gazes and measured words. But the good rapport she’d already established with them must have stood her in good stead, for she sensed an undercurrent of sympathy and they continued to treat her with respect.
Miraculously Caroline’s wedding passed without a hitch. It was a grand affair, with several titles on the guest list and for Caroline, beautiful in white satin with orange blossom in her veil, it was a glorious success. It was an ordeal for Louise, who was subject to a few snide remarks about the absence of Richard Langley. Her mother wore an air of harried nervousness. Louise knew Irene Ashford was wishing her far away and for once she had every intention of obliging her.
Charles had decided to return to Australia immediately after Christmas, to reassume the managership of Banyandah. Louise wondered if their father had encouraged the decision, in order to separate him from Agatha Howard. She also suspected the sedateness of farming in Devonshire dissatisfied Charles. It was a world away from the excitement and danger of mustering half-wild cattle, of working with his men with sweat and dust on his clothes and blood on his hands.
Louise obtained her parents’ permission to accompany her brother. She would have gone with or without their approval, but their readiness to see the back of her stung. They had done what they considered to be their best for her, but it had been out of duty, not love.
The voyage home, by steamer this time, was swifter and far more pleasant than their opposing journey eighteen months before. Louise didn’t suffer so much from sickness and her anticipation of seeing again the box-tree flats of Banyandah took her mind from the distressing circumstances of her departure. Leaving Fenham Manor without seeing her son again, and accepting that she may never do so, had twisted the dagger a little deeper into her heart.
Her only solace was a promise from Mrs Evans to write and keep her informed of Matthew’s progress.
Chapter Twenty-one
Banyandah hadn’t changed in her absence. The wet season had finished early and the grass held only a hint of green, but the familiar landscape reached out and enveloped Louise like a comforting blanket. The acting manager had opened and readie
d the house for them. It was so good to be back, to see and smell and feel all the familiar things–the blue skies and open spaces, the gum trees, the scent of eucalyptus in the early morning, the hot sun that struck to one’s very bones with warmth. And yet, the time when this house had been home to her, a naive young girl with a yen for adventure, seemed like a distant memory.
Louise accompanied Charles on horseback as he inspected the property, checking the cattle and the fences, the water and grass. It occupied her time and was preferable to some stuffy London drawing room, but there was an ache inside of her that wouldn’t let go. She thought wistfully of Lloyd Kavanagh, wondering if he’d found someone else by now. Had he married Mercy Jamieson?
With Charles as head of the household, life at Banyandah was more informal than it had been in her father’s day. He employed few indoor servants and Louise spent her days as she pleased. Charles had thrown himself wholeheartedly into work on the property and seemed content for the moment with little socialising. Those dissipated days of his London Season were far away.
One day the mailman with his laden packhorses brought a letter for Louise addressed in Mary Barclay’s small, neat hand. The two had corresponded while Louise was in England and Louise had written again when she arrived in Australia. At the dinner table, she mentioned Mary’s letter to Charles.
‘Cousin James and Mary have invited me to visit them. I would love to go. Have you any objections?’
Charles smiled ironically. ‘It’s a wonder they’ll have you, after the hullabaloo you caused before.’
‘I hope they realize I have grown up a little since then.’
His companionable attitude disappeared. ‘I hope so, too. No more consorting with the lower classes, I trust?’
She glared at him. ‘Charles, I’m of age now. You shan’t dictate to me anymore and I consider Papa and Mama no longer have the right to do so.’
‘And I’ll say be damned to you! Just don’t get yourself into the mess you did the last time.’
She ignored that, applying herself to her plate of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. ‘In that case, I shall go.’
‘For how long?’
‘For as long as I am welcome.’
‘Perhaps you’ll find yourself a husband there.’
She smiled humourlessly. ‘Jack Barclay asked me to marry him once. He may still be interested.’
‘Jack is the oldest boy, isn’t he? Poor innocent chap–I daresay you’d have no trouble fooling him.’
‘I wouldn’t deceive him, Charles.’
He regarded her mockingly. ‘Do I gather that you would tell him? You’re a fool if you think any man would still have you.’
She didn’t respond to that. She supposed Charles was right, but nor would she risk being found out in her deceit. There was only one real solution and she’d spent many hours pondering the possibility of bringing it about. But Lloyd hadn’t replied to the letter she’d written him before leaving for England. If he hadn’t forgiven her lies...if he was already married or entangled with someone else... No, it was impossible that she could approach him. To do so would only invite further hurt and humiliation.
~*~
It was a little over three years since Louise had first made the journey from Rockhampton to Gainsford and there were many changes. The Great Northern Railway that had for many years not advanced beyond Westwood, had made startling progress since 1873. Now that the bridge over the Dawson was completed, the most recent extension had opened at Duaringa, seven miles west of the river, in March. She wasn’t travelling that far–James was to meet the train at Boolburra, four miles from Gainsford.
Considering the circumstances of her departure from the area, Louise was anxious about meeting her cousins again. When she stepped from the train the first thing she saw was the buggy from Sherborne with James and Mary standing beside it, Sarah between them straining to catch a glimpse of her.
They approached her eagerly, Mary and Sarah embracing her, while James took her hand, saying in his quiet manner, ‘It is good to have you back with us, Louise.’
Mary and Sarah were exclaiming over her clothes and her hairstyle, Sarah at twelve being of the age to notice such things. ‘You’re more sophisticated than ever,’ Mary commented. ‘I feel so dowdy in comparison.’
‘It is I who am out of place,’ responded Louise, relieved and gratified by their welcome. ‘Most of my new clothes are unsuitable for the heat. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. It’s wonderful to be able to enjoy the sunshine and be properly warm again.’
‘What did you think of England?’ Sarah asked.
‘It’s very pretty, Devon especially, but I’m too countrified to like London, I’m afraid.’
‘But it must be very exciting to see where the Queen lives and to be presented to the Prince of Wales and Princess Alexandra, as you wrote to us.’
Louise smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm. ‘That was more intimidating than exciting, Sarah.’
As the horses slowly walked the buggy down the rutted road, Louise leaned back in her seat and sighed. ‘Oh, but it is good to be back with you! Thank you so much for inviting me. It was generous of you, considering how I treated you last time.’
‘We were more worried than angry,’ Mary responded quietly. ‘It was such a dangerous thing to do and I used to lie awake at night wondering if you were safe. We were so relieved to hear at last that you were unharmed and well and on your way to England with Charles.’
‘Cousin Mary, I’m so sorry.’ Suddenly Louise was choking back tears. ‘I wanted to write, but a letter would have betrayed my whereabouts. What a futile, senseless exercise it turned out to be.’
She noticed Mary’s penetrating glance and quickly changed the subject, injecting a lighter note into her voice. ‘How is Jack?’
‘Very well and looking forward to seeing you. He’s busy fencing at the moment.’
‘And Lindsay is at school in Brisbane. Does he enjoy it there?’
Mary nodded. ‘He seems happy enough. He was at home at Christmastime and so pleased to be back with the cattle and horses. This will be his third year away.’
As they bypassed Gainsford on the opposite bank of the river, James commented that one of the hotelkeepers had already departed to set up his business in Duaringa.
‘The town will soon be abandoned,’ he said. ‘The wagons won’t be coming this way anymore; the goods will go as far as Duaringa by train. But for the big flood we had in the river in March last year, the line would have been completed sooner. It washed Boolburra away and did a lot of damage to the freshly laid tracks.’ He gestured with his pipe to the big gum trees that grew on the banks of the river. ‘Notice the flood rubbish, high up in the trees. It was a tragedy for the teamsters who were waiting at the river. They lost most of their teams in the flood.’
Louise stiffened, thinking immediately of those living upstream at Myvanwy and Kilbride. ‘How dreadful. Did you lose cattle too?’
‘Yes, probably a hundred head. But there are others much worse off than us. If only the market for beef would improve.’
‘Charles mentioned the Lakes Creek Meatworks hasn’t reopened yet.’
‘No, it’s been closed since the beginning of ‘74, after the slump in the London market. The price of tallow is good, but I hate sending cattle to the boiling down works and having good meat dumped into the river. If refrigeration can be brought in it will make a big difference to the beef industry. There isn’t much market for canned beef, but frozen product will be a different proposition.’
‘The world is changing fast,’ Louise said. ‘Let us hope some of those new ideas will happen sooner rather than later.’
~*~
Although the homestead at Sherborne hadn’t changed, it was as if Louise saw everything with new eyes. She’d experienced so much since she was last here. She’d sampled life in a droving camp, sleeping in her swag; and had attended balls in some of England’s greatest mansions. Perhaps it was the contrast between the
two that made her a misfit, with nowhere to really call home.
When Jack arrived he greeted her eagerly. He was more mature and self-confident than she remembered. Louise found his attentions flattering, distracting her from painful memories.
Sarah was already under the care of a governess, so there was little for Louise to do but help Mary with the lighter household duties. She filled the remainder of her days as she pleased, riding, walking, reading or sewing. But she’d become accustomed to the life of upper class idleness in England and the lack of activity didn’t make her as restless as it once had. Jack was forever plying her with offers to take her riding and seeking excuses for her company, so she had no reason to be bored. She wondered if he intended to propose to her again and if he did, what her answer would be.
One day she took a book to the river, to the same old spot where she had used to sit and daydream in those carefree days of her innocence. Gazing at the brown water, she thought of Lloyd living not so very far upstream, or so she still assumed. It was easy to feel close to him, to recapture him, here in his own environment. She remembered that last day she’d spent with him at Myvanwy, picturing it vividly in her mind, and found herself crying for him and for the consequences of their folly as if it was only yesterday that they’d been separated. Suddenly it seemed incredible that she could even consider marrying Jack, whom she neither loved nor wanted. It would be better to die an old maid with her memories than settle for second best.
She was cool with Jack after that, refusing some of his invitations and putting a distance between them. Jack was obviously puzzled, probably wondering if he’d done something to offend her. But she knew the small hurt he was suffering now was nothing to the pain she would bring him if she married him.
~*~
May was unusually cool that year, with a promise of early frosts. The summer rains hadn’t been heavy and with the prospect of a dry, cold winter ahead of him James sent a large consignment of bullocks by train to the Laurel Bank meat-works at Rockhampton. With the mustering over, he received an inquiry from a horse-dealer asking if he had any surplus horses for sale. James Barclay’s thoroughbreds had a reputation locally for quality and endurance, both on the track and as stock-horses.
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