Jewel In the North

by Tricia Stringer

  Four

  Charles Wiltshire scowled at the baby his mother held proudly in her arms. It was tightly wrapped in a soft white blanket; the only thing showing was the sleeping face with a wisp of hair across its forehead.

  “Meet your sister, darling.” His mother glanced up briefly then cast her adoring gaze back over the baby.

  Charles had been surprised by his mother’s appearance. She had been rotund and puffy before she’d left Hawker to travel to Adelaide for the last few months of her confinement. The baby was now a month old and his mother’s face still looked puffy and pale in spite of the face powder she’d applied. Her dress was not fitted but flowed loosely around her.

  “Laura Florence Harriet Wiltshire.” His father spoke with reverence. “So clever, my dearest.” He placed a hand on Catherine’s shoulder.

  Charles was already tired of the fuss being made of the tiny snippet of life. “Why does she need such a long name?” He only had one extra name. He was simply Charles Henry after his mother’s grandfather and his father.

  “She’s named after both of her grandmothers,” his grandmother Hallet said proudly. “Florence after me and Harriet after your other grandmother. Such an honour.”

  All three adults bent over the baby. Charles stepped away and looked out of the large arch windows that graced the front of his grandparents’ house. He cast his gaze across the sand dunes to the sea. It was a warm afternoon for April — perhaps he could swim while they were staying there. Most of his trips to Adelaide to stay at his grandparents’ Glenelg home had been over summer and he’d learned to enjoy the ocean. His mother detested the summer in Hawker so he’d often spent a few weeks after Christmas at the coast. This year his mother had travelled alone to have the baby and he had stayed back in Hawker with his father. It hadn’t bothered him. Even though it was often cooler at Glenelg and there was the lure of the ocean, he’d much prefer to help his father with business than spend his time with his mother. At fourteen Charles did not enjoy the fussing and commotion and giggling that went with a female household. Perhaps it was why his grandfather stayed away.

  “Would you like some nice cool lemonade, Master Charles?” His grandmother’s housekeeper had come to stand beside him with a tray.

  “Thank you, Mrs Phillips.”

  She smiled at him. “What do you think of your new sister?”

  “She’s a … baby.” Charles couldn’t think of a polite word to use for the bundle his mother held.

  “Another dear little girl.” Mrs Phillips bustled off.

  He took a sip of his drink and turned back to the view of the water. His father had said they would only stay a few days and they had yet to call on Grandmother Harriet. Charles was looking forward to that. She didn’t fuss and she treated him like the adult he felt he was.

  “How are you, my dearest?” Henry looked steadily at his wife. They were finally alone in the upstairs bedroom that was always ready for Catherine’s visits. He laid a hand gently on her shoulder then pursed his lips as she shrank away from his touch.

  “I am well enough, thank you, Henry.” She tucked the baby into the cradle then sat in the rocking chair and fanned her face with her hand.

  He bent over his daughter. Her little cheeks were a soft rose pink and her lips like perfect little buds. “She’s beautiful.”

  “She is.” Catherine let out a long audible sigh.

  Henry yearned to pick up his daughter and hold her close but something about the way Catherine had placed her in the cradle and then tucked her firmly deterred him. He trailed one finger across the baby’s soft cheek and her lips sucked in and out but she was otherwise still. “The baby is settling well?”

  “She’s contented enough.”

  “That’s very good.” Henry stood tall and once more studied his wife. It had been a long time since he’d seen her naked but he imagined her body beneath the layers of clothing would be flabby and soft. Not like the firm flesh of Flora Nixon. Henry hardened at the thought of their housekeeper. He hadn’t been in her bed for some time either. He would have to rectify that as soon as they returned home.

  Catherine put a hand to her forehead. “How long are you staying, Henry?”

  “We shall spend two days here. I have some business to attend to and then we will all travel home to Hawker together.”

  Catherine’s hand fell to her side and a frown creased her brow. “It’s too soon. I am still exhausted.”

  “You said the baby was doing well.”

  “The birth was long and difficult. You know that I had rheumatic fever as a child and the doctor said my heart was not strong. It is I who have not recovered. I wouldn’t have managed without Mother and Mrs Phillips.”

  Henry clasped his hands to his sides. Catherine had been difficult to remove from Adelaide after Charles Henry’s birth fourteen years earlier but she’d been young and inexperienced then.

  “I will help you when we get home, and Mrs Nixon will be there.”

  A strange look passed over Catherine’s face. Henry felt his chest constrict. Could she know?

  “I need to stay here a little longer.”

  “Two more days.”

  “No, Henry. I mean a month or more. I need some rest and I won’t get it at home even with Flora’s help.”

  Henry looked down at Catherine. He was not going to have this again. “You will come home, Catherine.” He went back to the cradle and carefully lifted the tiny bundle into his arms. She pursed her lips but her little eyes didn’t open.

  “What are you doing, Henry? You shouldn’t pick up a sleeping baby.”

  “I wish to hold my daughter.” He tore his gaze from the sweet little face. “She will be coming with Charles and me when we leave. If you wish to stay longer that is your choice but our son and our daughter will be going back to Hawker where they belong.”

  Catherine tilted her chin and glared at him. “How will you feed your daughter without me?”

  “I will engage a wet nurse.”

  Her face fell and tears brimmed in her eyes. Henry was pleased to see her small attempt at defiance was short lived. He didn’t want a stranger feeding and caring for his daughter but if that was what it took so be it.

  Catherine flopped back against the chair and put a hand to her brow. “I can’t be ready in two days.”

  “I am sure your mother and Mrs Phillips will help you and anything extra can be sent up on the train.” He kissed his daughter’s cheek and placed her back in the cradle. “Now that everything is settled I shall take a stroll to the hotel and enjoy the sea air while I can. Don’t wait up for me, Catherine. I shall sleep in the spare room with Charles when I return. Good night.”

  Catherine stayed in her chair long after Henry’s footsteps had faded down the stairs. How was she to face living in Hawker again? The extremes of summer heat and winter cold were bad enough but the dust and the flies and the rancid smells of the town were unbearable. Instead of growing accustomed to it she had come to detest it.

  She looked towards the door Henry had closed gently on his way out. The tears that had threatened earlier rolled unchecked down her cheeks. She believed Henry when he said he would employ a wet nurse for their daughter. Since the birth of Charles she had endured miscarriage after miscarriage until for the last few years no baby at all had grown in her womb. Then just when she thought her child-bearing days were finally over, along came Laura.

  To carry her daughter to full term Catherine had spent nearly the entire confinement in bed with the exception of the journey to Adelaide two months before the birth. She had also given up her tonic. Her doctor in Adelaide had been worried it was addictive and wasn’t helping her confinement. She’d had a terrible time after that. The tonic had been the only way to deal with life in Hawker and if it hadn’t been for living with her parents at Glenelg she might have gone quite out of her mind. Now the thought of returning made her heart race and her fingers tremble. Her mother knew she wanted to stay longer but would not openly take Cath
erine’s side against Henry, and her father would agree her place was with her husband even if he didn’t like her living in Hawker.

  A sigh from the cradle drew her gaze. Catherine felt so much love for the tiny baby it was as if her heart would burst. Laura was a miracle, there was no denying it, and Catherine knew Henry was as delighted as she was to have a daughter. More than delighted: he was infatuated. How had she ever entertained the idea that he would allow them to stay longer in Adelaide? She gripped the padded arms of the old wooden rocker and tried her best to think rationally but like her legs, her mind felt unsteady.

  She looked up at a sharp rap on the door. Charles pushed it open without waiting for her response. He crossed the room quickly with a brief sideways glance towards the cradle. He was as tall as Henry these days and looked so like his father, with his thick dark hair and deep brown eyes. He also had a good dose of Henry’s confidence with the added brashness of immaturity.

  He bent and brushed a brief kiss across her cheek. “Good night, Mother.”

  “Good night, Charles.” She put a hand on his arm but he pulled away and was gone as swiftly as he’d entered.

  Catherine closed her eyes. She felt as if her son was lost to her, in the same way that Henry was. He’d grown up so quickly. There were many times over the years when she’d taken to her bed for weeks at a time after the loss of yet another baby or simply from the weight of the melancholy that sometimes overwhelmed her. These days Charles needed her for nothing but her housekeeping skills and even they were not required. Flora Nixon provided that service, just as she did many other things in the Wiltshire household.

  Catherine pondered on Flora, who was her dear friend more than she was a housekeeper. They had become close over the years. Flora understood her needs. As Catherine had discovered she also understood Henry’s. She’d heard them together one night in the spare bedroom when she hadn’t been able to sleep. It had been a shock at first and then a relief. If Henry was with Flora he did not often hanker for his wife’s body. Thankfully Flora’s children had grown and moved away and her husband hadn’t shown up for years. Henry had taken to visiting Flora in her cottage next door. It was a better outcome for all of them.

  Catherine had wondered why Flora allowed him to use her so. The woman could have flaunted it but there was nothing about her manner that alluded to the fact that she shared her master’s bed. Neither did she act ashamed or subservient. Catherine wanted to ask but that would have opened up a knowledge that was best kept quiet. Flora was a capable housekeeper as well as her dear friend; to lose her would be a terrible blow from which Catherine could not see a way to recover. She did wonder how long Henry had been bedding her. When Catherine thought about it he’d rarely visited her bed for years. It made Laura even more of a miracle, but now she was finally here Catherine would not entertain the idea of ever having another child.

  When the doctor had insisted she give up her tonic she’d been in a constant state of agitation. It had taken some time for the longing to fade away. If she went back to Hawker she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to get through the days again without it.

  Laura snuffled and gave some soft cries. She was no doubt hungry. Catherine rose and tended to her daughter. She watched her delicate mouth and her fluttering eyelids; one tiny hand gripped the soft flesh of her breast. There was nothing more precious. Catherine had loved Charles, she still did, but he no longer needed her; neither did Henry.

  Once more she considered the idea she’d had since her daughter’s birth that Henry would let them live in Adelaide and simply visit from time to time — after seeing him with their daughter she knew that would not be the case. He might give up his wife perhaps, but not his child. He’d had the same possessive reaction with Charles. Henry had gradually taken her son from her. Catherine would not allow him to take her daughter.

  She lifted the sated baby from her breast and placed her on her shoulder. Laura’s soft breath blew against her cheek. Catherine leaned back in the chair. She would have to return to Hawker for the time or it would cause a scene, but she would go on her terms. She had no desire to expose the scandalous life her husband lived but it was the only bargaining power she had. She must tackle him now, this very night, before her resolve left her altogether.

  Feeling stronger for having made a decision, she placed the baby back in the cradle, changed into her nightgown and sat in the chair waiting for the sounds of Henry’s return. As she had suspected he hadn’t been able to resist checking on the baby. The creak of the door woke her from her doze as Henry opened it and stepped inside. She hadn’t drawn the curtains and the silvery moon afforded some light through the window. Her eyes followed his movements. He bent and kissed his sleeping daughter.

  “She’s perfect in every way.”

  Henry’s head flew up at the sound of Catherine’s voice. “What are you doing sitting there in the dark?”

  She took her time lighting the lamp she had left on the table beside her. “I need to talk to you, Henry.”

  “Surely it could wait until morning. It’s late.” He turned towards the door.

  “We must talk now, Henry.”

  He was obviously confused by the determined tone of her voice. He hesitated at the door. “I’m sure anything you have to say can be said in the fresh light of day. We don’t want to wake the baby.”

  “She won’t wake.” Catherine glanced at the cradle. “She sleeps very well.”

  “I’m tired, Catherine.”

  She took a deep breath as he reached the door. “So am I, Henry, but I am sure you won’t wish to discuss the details of your arrangements with our housekeeper over breakfast with my parents.”

  Henry’s head went up and his back stiffened. He let go of the door handle. The shock she saw in his eyes as he turned gave her some small satisfaction.

  He opened his mouth to speak but she rose from her chair and held one hand up to stop him.

  “Please don’t deny it, Henry. Did you think I was so stupid as not to know about your time in Flora’s bed?”

  “It was only … I —”

  “Don’t waste your breath with excuses. I have endured your adulterous behaviour because of our son and my family’s reputation. Besides, it meant you were not bothering me with your …” she shuddered “… grabbing hands and pathetic kisses and your …” She waved in the direction of that part of his anatomy she never wished to be near again.

  Henry gaped at her.

  Now that she’d said her piece Catherine’s strength deserted her. Her legs shook and she lowered herself back into the chair. In the silence that followed the only sound was the hiss of the lamp and a loud sigh from Laura.

  Henry moved closer to the cradle and looked from Catherine to the baby. “What do you propose to do?” His voice came out in a whisper. Catherine could see the anguish on his face as he studied their daughter.

  Her heart beat quickly and tears pricked her eyes. She had to get it all out before her courage deserted her completely. “I would happily leave you, Henry, but I cannot bear the thought of the stain that would mark our children’s lives.”

  He strode across the room, kneeled before her and took her hands in his. “I won’t visit Flora again. You and I will be strong together. I need you, Catherine.”

  She looked down at the man she had once loved and felt nothing but revulsion. She extricated her hands from his. “How could you?”

  He dropped his head and shook it slowly. “I have needs and you didn’t always want —”

  “Don’t you blame your weakness on me,” she snapped. “How many times have I been with child to give you the children you wanted? How many times did I endure the loss of those babies and the discomforts that brought to my body? And where were you, Henry? Consoling yourself with our housekeeper.”

  He lifted his head quickly. His dark eyes studied her with a brooding look. “What is it you want, Catherine?”

  She held her nerve and looked him in the eye. “To raise my
children here, at Glenelg, without you.”

  “But you said —”

  “I cannot have what I want.” She cut him off and looked longingly towards the cradle. “It would not be fair to the children. They need a mother and a father.” She dragged her gaze back to Henry. “And no scandal.”

  “I shall end it with Flora and dismiss her.”

  Catherine pushed him away and rose to her feet as he struggled to keep his balance. “You will not. Flora is my dear friend. I will not speak of this with her — though I need your assurance that you do not force her.” She took in a deep breath, closed her eyes then opened them to look Henry in the eye as he scrambled to his feet. “She comes to you from,” she swallowed her distaste, “mutual need?” Catherine clasped her hands tightly. She did not want to lose Flora’s help and friendship but neither could she abide it if her friend was being forced.

  “On my child’s life I have never taken Flora against her will. At first she did want extra money … for her children but now …”

  “That is enough.” Catherine closed her eyes and put a hand to her mouth. She must enjoy Henry’s attention. Catherine’s heart quickened again, remembering an oh-so-brief time when she had too. A small gasp erupted from her lips. She clutched the fabric of her nightgown.

  Henry watched her like a man watching a snake.

  “You will continue to be discreet with your visits. You will not tell Flora I know about your liaisons and we will never speak of it again.” She lifted her chin. “I will return with you to Hawker —”

  “Very sensible of you, Catherine.” Henry reached for her hands but she batted him away.

  “But!” She held up a finger. “You will allow me to visit my family more regularly and stay as long as I like.”

  He nodded eagerly. “I don’t have to be with Flora.”

  “Yes you must or she will wonder why. Flora must never know that I know about your … I could not endure it then.”