Henry was the first to move. “Catherine.” He pushed past Ellis to his wife, who lay still and deathly pale. He reached for her hand as the room suddenly filled with voices.
“See what your bad manners have caused, Mrs Hill,” Ellis snarled.
“Mother?” Charles had come to kneel on Catherine’s other side.
“How dare you accuse my wife, Prosser?” Councillor Hill roared.
Henry didn’t see what happened behind him but there was a thud, screams from the ladies and the sound of breaking glass.
“Stop this at once.” Flora Nixon’s commanding voice boomed over the cacophony.
Henry glanced around. Flora stood just inside the dining-room door, glaring across the room, with Miss Ferguson wide eyed beside her. They both looked down at Catherine on the floor. Flora rushed to her side. “Edith, wet a cloth please,” she commanded.
“I think she’s only fainted,” Henry said as Flora snatched a nearby cushion and placed it gently under Catherine’s head. “We’ve had a bit of a to-do in here.”
Flora looked up. Their gazes locked and for one brief moment Henry saw her gentle look, then just as quickly her housekeeper face returned. She turned to Charles beside her. “We need to loosen her clothing. You should take the guests into the sitting room.”
“Offer them another drink,” Henry said.
Edith passed a table napkin she had dampened with cool water, which Flora pressed to Catherine’s forehead. Charles stood, giving Henry a clear view of Ellis Prosser slumped against the wall in a pool of broken glass. Anne Hill was tending her husband’s face, with her two sobbing daughters beside her.
“Should we send for the doctor?” Agnes asked.
“I’ll be all right, woman,” Ellis snapped.
“Not for you, you big fool. For Mrs Wiltshire.”
Catherine’s eyelids began to flutter.
“She’s only fainted,” Henry said. “If you’d all go with Charles to the sitting room he will make sure you have a refreshing drink while we see to my wife.”
They filed out. Ellis was the last. He glowered at Henry then glanced down as Catherine gave a soft moan. “Tell her I’m sorry,” he muttered. The front door thudded shut a few minutes later.
With the help of the two women Henry managed to get Catherine to her bed.
Thankfully Laura was oblivious to the mayhem that had ensued, fast asleep in her cot in the corner. Catherine was rousing and he left her in Flora’s capable hands to return to his guests. Some Christmas party this had been. Somehow he had to smooth waters and continue the meal without the hostess.
The sitting room was empty. He returned to the dining room, where Charles sat at the table alone.
“They’ve all gone,” Henry said, declaring the obvious.
Charles shrugged. “All very apologetic. Leaving with their best wishes for Mother on their lips.” He turned his deadpan look on Henry. “Is she all right?”
“She’ll have a sore head but otherwise yes. This happened a couple of times while you were away. Dr Chambers seems to think it’s brought on by agitation or distress. There’s no need to call him out tonight.”
“He would be unlikely to come.” Charles twisted his lips in a wry smile and slowly poked a fork into the now sloppy mutton jelly. “We may have become unpalatable seeing as we are harbouring an apparent criminal.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course the doctor would come, but I don’t see the need.” Henry crossed to the small table that housed the drinks and stopped when he saw the crumpled legs, the wet floorboards and broken glass. The delicate piece of furniture must have borne the full brunt of Ellis’s weight in his struggle with Councillor Hill. A small pain niggled behind Henry’s eyes. He had worked hard to get where he was. He owned land in the district, his business was thriving and he had used the money it generated to add a servant wing and cellar to his house, which was now the finest in Hawker. His friend Ellis Prosser’s behaviour could threaten all he’d achieved.
“Do you think Mr Prosser did beat that man, Father?”
Henry took a breath. “We should leave it in the hands of the constable.” He adjusted the tie at his neck. “I need a drink.”
Henry left Charles and crossed back to the sitting room, poured himself a whisky and slumped into a chair. What was he to do? This whole business was very nasty and most people appeared to be against Ellis in this. Henry would need to think on it. There had been many times when Ellis Prosser had been a great help to him and there had been a few business dealings between them Henry would prefer no-one else knew about. If this business with the shepherd turned out to be true, Henry’s friendship with Ellis could see him ousted from his carefully built position as a leader in the Hawker community.
He took a swig from the glass, closed his eyes and rubbed at the now throbbing pain in his temple.
Thirteen
January 1898
Hegarty brought the loaded wagon to a stop as William, Clem and Jessie came out to meet him. The sun was still only a glow on the horizon. Thin wispy clouds stretched across the sky tinged with pink and the promise of another hot dry day.
“You’ve made good time,” William said as the big man climbed down from the wagon and rubbed his behind with both hands. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow at the earliest.”
“Nothing to hang around in Hawker for.” Hegarty wiped his face with a large handkerchief stained with brown. “The dust is worse there than here. It’s as if every fragment of the surface of the plain has been swept into the air.”
“We still have some cover here,” William said. The drought had set in and they had very little stock.
“You were right to sell off as many cattle as you could, and Joseph was right to do the same with the sheep from Wildu Creek. At least the land hasn’t been stripped bare.” Hegarty looked back in the direction of Hawker. “Those farmers on the plains have ploughed the land so much, and now there is nothing left to hold the dirt. Even the slightest puff of wind lifts it into the air. Plenty are leaving their land. The price of copper has risen and some of the old mines further north have been reopened. There are those who’ve gone off in search of work.”
William felt the weight of the drought as if it were a physical load on his shoulders.
“We just have to wait it out,” Hegarty said. “It can’t last forever.”
They set to work unloading the wagon. Jessie supervised the storing of the food in the house; William helped carry the items needed for their ever-expanding fence lines to the stone hut up the hill.
When it was done the sun was fully risen, belting them with its relentless heat. They stood in the shade of a tree and Jessie passed around mugs of cool water.
After Hegarty had drained his he patted down his pockets and finally, with a dramatic flourish, he drew something out. “I found you this, lass.” He held out one big hand to Jessie.
“What is it?” Clem asked.
Hegarty winked. “She’ll know what to do with it.”
Jessie took the small bottle, glanced at the label and levered the cork from the top.
The three men watched as she put it to her nose and took a sniff. Her eyebrows raised and her face broke into a beautiful smile. She studied the small label on the front again.
“Ess … ence of …” she peered closer “… rose?” She looked up at Hegarty, her eyes wide.
“I’m guessing you probably haven’t come across a rose before,” Hegarty said.
Jessie shook her head.
“I’ve heard of them,” William said. “Flowers with a rich perfume. My grandmother loved the smell.”
Jessie pushed the top back into the neck of the bottle. “I can add it to the soap.”
“That was my idea, lass. You could find something to make a pale pink colour too, I’m sure.” Hegarty’s smile slipped. “But not in the blocks you make for us men. It’s for the ladies, that one.”
Jessie slipped the precious bottle into her apron pocket then reached u
p and flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Mr Hegarty. It’s a very thoughtful gift.”
As she stepped back William was torn between laughing at the wide-eyed Hegarty and crying for the young woman who’d not had the delight of sharing and friendship in her life until she married Clem and came to live at Smith’s Ridge. Her joy over the small gifts they’d exchanged at Christmas had been wonderful to see.
“I’m going to cook us pancakes for morning tea.” Jessie beamed at them all and kissed Clem’s cheek. “Would you bring me some wood please, Clem? The box is low.” He gave her a nod and set off towards the woodpile as Jessie almost skipped back inside.
William let out a sigh of relief. Her pancakes were better than her scones at least. She made a good job of washing their clothes, keeping the house in order, milking the cow and even plaiting rope, but her cooking had improved little, even after Millie’s tutelage.
“Where did you find the essence?” he asked Hegarty as they unhitched the horses from the wagon.
Hegarty looked at him over the back of a horse. “Wiltshire’s shop.”
William raised his eyebrows. “We don’t usually shop there.”
“I know.” Hegarty undid the harness. “But Garrat is only stocking the basics these days and he’s spending a lot of time on the road. I overheard two women talking about the new shop assistant in Wiltshire’s and the introduction of more soaps, perfumes and essences.” Hegarty shrugged his shoulders. “The new assistant’s a woman. I went for a look. Then I had to buy something from her. Jessie makes good soap. I thought she might enjoy making something special for herself.”
William grinned. “And the new assistant?”
“Young and shapely enough but barely smiled, mousey hair and rather plain of face.”
“You took a good look at her then.” William laughed and shook his head as he led the horses away. Hegarty was older than Joseph. He’d never mentioned life before meeting Joseph on the Teetulpa gold fields and then coming to work with the Bakers. There had never been talk of a wife or children. William supposed Hegarty wasn’t too old to be with a woman if he chose — not that there was any chance of someone Henry Wiltshire employed becoming friendly with anyone associated with the Bakers. William shook his head to erase the thought.
They ate the pancakes in the big front room. It was just as warm in there as outside but at least they could keep most of the little black flies out.
“Any news from Hawker?” William asked.
“Some,” Hegarty replied through a mouthful of dough.
“You mentioned Mr Garrat was out on the road. What’s he doing?”
“He has a weekly round taking wagonloads of groceries to farms. Saves them coming in to town.”
“That seems like a good initiative if people can pay.” William shook his head. “Mr Garrat has always been generous to people in hard times.”
“Garrat is a good man but this drought has affected him like everyone else.” Hegarty sat back. “Everyone except Wiltshire, of course. While we’re all tightening our belts he’s building additions to his shop. It looks to be a big change and business didn’t appear that busy while I was there. His son Charles was there among the builders giving orders and strutting around like a peacock.”
“Like his father.”
“But taller,” Hegarty said. “Evidently he’s been away. Must have been eating well by the way he’s filled out. The teamsters in Hawker are all getting work with the copper mines reopening. There’s been plenty of loads of new plant and supplies to take out and the first load of ore came in to the rail yards while I was there. Wiltshires have bought two of their own teams. They’ve even got their name painted on the sides of their wagons.” Hegarty sat back. “They certainly don’t seem to lack money to splash about and they’ve got their hands in many things.”
William dropped his fork to his empty plate. “Surely there must be other news that doesn’t involve the Wiltshires.”
“Some.” Hegarty glanced at Clem. “Ellis Prosser has been called before the magistrate.”
Jessie jumped as Clem’s fist thumped the table. “At last.”
“It could still be a while. Evidently the magistrate won’t get to Hawker for another month or two. Ellis has been confined to Prosser’s Run until then.”
Clem snorted in disgust. “He should be in chains.”
“Prosser won’t leave his place,” Hegarty said. “He has too much invested there.”
Once more Clem gave a snort.
William looked across the table. “At least Albie is walking again.”
“He’ll be a cripple for the rest of his life.” Clem’s eyes blazed with anger.
“Let’s hope we see justice in the end.”
Clem pushed back from his chair. He strode across the room and out through the kitchen, his footsteps the only sound until the thud of the back door.
Jessie gathered their plates. She gave William and Hegarty an awkward smile and left them alone.
“He’s an angry young man, that one.” Hegarty jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen.
“He cares deeply for his friend.” William turned his gaze to the window. “What Ellis Prosser did was sinful. How could one man treat another so badly?”
Hegarty was silent a moment. William continued to stare out the window as motes of dust whirled in the air around him.
“Prosser will get what he’s due.” Hegarty slapped his leg and stood. “Work to be done.” The big man lumbered from the room.
William heard him have a quick chat to Jessie in the kitchen before letting himself out. The thought of Ellis Prosser being brought to justice was a double-edged sword for William. On the one hand he was glad to see the man made accountable for his terrible treatment of Albie but on the other William worried about Georgina and her mother. What would become of them if Prosser were sent to prison?
His thoughts lingered on Georgina. He hadn’t had a letter from her for months. He had hoped she would manage to send him a message at Christmas but it was nearing the end of January and no mail had come his way.
A little worm of hope wriggled in his chest. It had been more than a year and a half since they had pledged their love for each other and made their plan to marry. Surely he could survive a few more months.
Fourteen
April 1898
“Oh look, Mother, there are the Wiltshires.” Georgina pressed her face to the train window as it came to a halt at the station. “Oh dear, Mrs Wiltshire looks even larger than she was when we left. What on earth is she wearing?”
“Hush, Georgina,” her mother reprimanded.
“I wonder who they’re meeting?” It was so hard to sit still. Georgina felt as excited as a child to be home at last. She twisted the other way. “I can’t see Father.”
“Do sit back, Georgina. I’m sure he’ll be there somewhere.” Johanna Prosser reached across and pulled at her daughter’s arm. “You’ll crush your new hat.”
Georgina flopped back on the seat but kept watch through the window as the train finally came to a halt. She didn’t give a fig for the new hat her mother had insisted on buying in Sydney. She had already accumulated so many clothes that would be impractical for life at home.
“Home,” she whispered. How good that sounded. Her eyes searched through the hustle and bustle along the station for her father’s tall frame. All she wanted was to return to Prosser’s Run. It was April already, nearly two years since they’d left. She was tired of travelling and longed to see the country. It had been a shock to see the state of the dusty plains they’d travelled across before reaching Hawker, but it hadn’t dampened the enthusiasm she felt on her return.
Now, with the train stationary at last, they both got to their feet and collected their hand luggage. The trunk and several new cases were in the baggage car.
“I hope Father has brought the wagon,” Georgina said. “He won’t fit all our things in the cart.”
“I warned him how much luggage we had in
my last letter from Sydney.” Johanna smiled at her daughter. “You’re right. It is good to be home.” She reached up and adjusted Georgina’s small russet-red hat. “Let us alight and find your father.”
No sooner had they stepped down than Henry Wiltshire was at her mother’s side. He removed his hat, his face like stone. “My dear Mrs Prosser.” He inclined his head to Georgina. “Miss Prosser.”
“Hello, Henry,” Johanna said, looking past him. “Have you seen Ellis?”
Henry cleared his throat. “I am here in his place. Catherine is with me. We’ve come to escort you to our house.”
“Is Ellis unable to come?” Johanna asked.
Georgina felt her spirits dampen. She didn’t want to spend time with the Wiltshires while she waited for her father. She simply wanted to go home.
“Please come this way.” Henry shepherded them towards his wife.
People on the platform watched them curiously. A few they knew gave them barely an acknowledgement and moved on. It gave Georgina a strange feeling.
“Oh, my poor Johanna.” Catherine dragged Georgina’s mother into a hug.
“Catherine.” Henry’s tone held a warning note.
Georgina studied Mrs Wiltshire. Up close she looked terrible. Her skin was pale and her once-pretty eyes were dull.
“What is it?” Johanna looked from one to the other. “Where’s Ellis?”
Even as her mother asked the question Henry moved them on. A fine new open carriage awaited, almost as sleek as the mare that pulled it. Charles sat sombre-faced in the driver’s seat. A chill swept over Georgina in spite of the sunshine. Henry almost tossed them into their seats, though Catherine took a bit more manoeuvring. Finally, all four of them were in the carriage and Henry gave Charles a pat on the shoulder. They set off at a pace, Charles showing no concern for the people who had to scatter out of his way.
“Where is my father, Mr Wiltshire?” Georgina spoke up, as her mother seemed to have lost her voice altogether.
Henry leaned forward and almost landed in their laps as the carriage bounced over a particularly large rut. He looked from Georgina to her mother. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, my dear.” He took her hand and Catherine sniffed loudly into her handkerchief. “Ellis is gone.”
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