Henry had a glimpse of Edith’s straight back seated at the table. “I’m very tired, Charles.”
“Edith has prepared a special dinner for us.”
Henry sighed. “Very well. I’ll go and wash first.” He continued down the hall. He stopped at Laura’s closed door and opened it. A lamp still glowed on the small table beside her bed. He crossed the room and looked down at his sleeping daughter. Her nose was red and her face damp with tears, but she was sound asleep. He bent to kiss her and tasted the salt on her pink cheek. He wondered what had upset her. He placed the packet at the end of her bed and tiptoed from the room.
The kitchen was empty. He assumed Edith had given Flora the night off. He went to the back door on his way to the bathroom and looked out across the courtyard. No light shone from her window. Perhaps she was out visiting. Henry sighed and resigned himself to dinner with his pompous son and his arrogant daughter-in-law.
In the dining room he kissed the cheek Edith offered and took his place at the head of the table. In front of him was a serve of some kind of meat in a glutinous splodge.
“I’ve made jellied fowl to begin.” Edith smiled broadly.
Henry said grace and picked up his fork. Charles was already devouring his. Henry poked at the wobbly concoction before putting a small forkful into his mouth. Rather than tasting bad there was hardly any taste at all. He swallowed, grateful it was only a small serve.
“Have you given Mrs Nixon the night off?” he asked.
Charles and Edith glanced at each other across the table.
Charles put down his fork, his plate already empty. “Mrs Nixon has left our employ, Father.”
“What?” Henry turned to Edith, but her eyes were lowered. “Why would she leave?”
“You remember her daughter, Martha?” Charles said. “She was in need of her mother’s help.”
Henry frowned. Flora had rarely mentioned her children once they left home, though he knew she had sometimes sent them money. Her husband had died many years ago and other than telling Henry about that, she discussed nothing of her own personal life.
Henry looked back at his son. “Why did Martha suddenly need her mother?”
“Flora didn’t say why and I didn’t ask. She was in a hurry to go. I paid her the rest of the month’s wages and—”
Henry slammed his hand on the table, making the cutlery and Edith jump. “Where has she gone?”
“Calm down, Father.” Charles frowned at him. “She didn’t give me an address. It was her decision. There was little Edith or I could do about it.”
“Perhaps she’ll send you a letter when she’s settled.” Edith’s words were like icicles in the warm room.
Henry met her gaze and he knew straight away she had somehow been complicit in this sudden departure. His heart sank. What had she done to his dear Flora to make her disappear without a word?
“You don’t need to worry, Father,” Charles said. “Edith will run the house with some help from the lady across the road, Mrs Coleman. It’s quite silly us maintaining two houses when there’s more than enough room for all of us here. We are going to move into the rooms at the back of the house — Mrs Nixon’s rooms and the guest room — so we won’t be in your way.”
“What if I have guests? Johanna uses the guest room.”
“You can always use my old room, but you haven’t had guests to stay in a long time in any case. Mrs Prosser stays at the Temperance Hotel.” Charles sat back and clasped his hands together over his broad chest. “Our household finances will be improved without Mrs Nixon’s wage and we can rent out our house.”
“And you won’t be alone any more, Father.” Edith gave him such a sweet smile he could almost have believed it was genuine.
“I wasn’t alone before. I have Laura.”
“Of course but—”
“She needs someone to look after her.”
“Edith will do that.” Charles inclined his head towards his wife across the table. “Laura’s six years old now and hardly needs a nursemaid. Mrs Nixon did spoil her somewhat.”
Henry lifted his napkin, folded it carefully and laid it across his unfinished dinner. “Well, you appear to have everything worked out. Thank you for the meal, Edith.”
“That was just the starter. I have liver fritters for the next course and then custard tart.”
Henry stood. “I am too tired to be good company. I will retire and leave you to enjoy the food.”
Henry closed the door behind him. Once in his own bedroom he shut that door too. The lamp he had lit earlier still shone brightly. He closed his eyes and took a long slow breath. His head was pounding from the task of trying to control his anger. He was sure Edith had blackmailed Flora as she had him, but Charles was so besotted by the woman. Henry couldn’t be sure how much his son knew. Was he aware of Henry’s relationship with Flora, and had conspired to send her away, or had Edith simply used her hold over him to get what she wanted?
Regardless, Henry was trapped. He couldn’t speak out for fear of exposing his second life — and he had dear Laura to consider. He’d be damned if he was going to let Edith poison his daughter’s sweet nature.
Henry sank to the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands. There were so many financial problems at the moment. Charles was too caught up in his own schemes to see the overall extent of their combined debt. And now he was to face evenings without the company of his dear Flora. How he would miss her listening ear, her gentle reassurance and her warm embrace.
A drop fell to his trouser leg and then another. Henry began to sob. He was more heartbroken than he’d felt when Catherine died. In many ways she had been his housekeeper and Flora his wife.
His door opened and a little face peeped around. “Papa?”
Henry wiped his eyes. “I am here, Laura, my angel.”
The little girl ran into his arms. She kissed his cheeks then touched them gently with her fingers, her gaze searching his. “Why are you crying, Papa?”
“I was missing you, my angel, but now you’re here, I’m happy.” He pulled his face into a smile.
“I thought you might be sad because Flora has left.”
“Yes, that is sad.”
“Did you send her away, Papa?”
“No, Laura. She had to go and look after her own family.”
“But we are her family.”
“Yes we are, but she has children of her own who need her now.”
“Flora was my dearest friend, Papa. I shall miss her very much.” She tilted her head and looked earnestly up at him. Tears welled in her eyes.
One trickled down her cheek and Henry took out his handkerchief and wiped it away. “You remember when your mama died and you had to be very brave?”
Laura chewed her lip and nodded.
“You must do the same now. Like your mama, Flora will always be in your heart and you in hers.”
Laura looked up at him with such trust it brought tears to his own eyes. He blinked them away. “Can you be brave, my angel?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
A door opened beyond the bedroom and Edith could be heard walking down the hall. Laura slipped from his lap, closed the door and came back to sit beside him. She glanced to the door then back at Henry.
“Flora told me a secret, Papa. She said I was only to share it with you.”
Henry grasped Laura’s hands in his, hoping there was some message, some way he could contact Flora.
“She said I was a lucky girl because my mama had left me some lovely jewellery in a special box. She was worried someone might want to take it so she hid it. She said the only person I was allowed to tell was you, Papa, so you could keep it safe.”
Henry sighed. He really didn’t care about Catherine’s blasted trinkets but Flora was right. They were meant for Laura and no doubt Edith would want to get her grasping hands on them.
Laura pulled him closer so she could whisper in his ear. “They are under your bed. Flora said you would find a safe
place for them until I am old enough to wear them.”
Henry patted the soft hair on her head. “Let’s get them out now.”
They both got down on their knees and Henry dragged out the box. They sat on the floor, their backs against the bed, and looked at the box. The key was in the lock. Henry turned it eagerly, hoping Flora would have put a note inside for him. He lifted the lid and rummaged through the pieces. He sighed. There was no note.
“This is pretty.” Laura had picked up a cameo brooch. “Mama wore it at her neck.”
“Yes, but not suitable for you yet.” Henry looked at Laura admiring the brooch then back at the box. He rummaged again until his fingers found the filigree heart-shaped locket. He lifted it from the box and held it to the light. It was an intricate and pretty piece of jewellery, with the letter H shaped into the front.
“That’s Mama’s locket.”
“Yes,” Henry said. “And before that it was my mother’s and before that my grandmother’s. Now it’s your turn, Laura.” He lifted the chain over her head. “You’re old enough to take care of it, aren’t you?”
“Oh yes, Papa.” Laura’s eyes shone as she looked up at him. “I will look after it. Thank you. Now Mama’s heart is close to mine.”
She pressed the locket to her chest and once more Henry blinked back the tears. He put his arm around his daughter and held her close. At least he’d had one small victory. If he made this gifting official it would be difficult for Edith to claim the necklace. He had denied her the piece of jewellery that she so badly wanted.
Forty-four
April 1903
Charles turned back from seeing the customers out of the shop and looked down at the baby in his arms. Leonard Charles Wiltshire had been born in the extreme heat of January and yet he had thrived. Charles looked down at the perfect little pixie face and wondered once more how such a small scrap of flesh could make such a big change to their lives. He had a brief image of his mother holding baby Laura the first time he had seen his sister. His mother had been totally besotted and Laura had been thoroughly spoiled as a result. He would have none of that nonsense for his son. The baby was strong and healthy and Edith was a fine mother without fussing: that was what was necessary for a child.
“I’ve finished instructing Miss Fisher now, Charles. Time for Leonard and I to return home. He must be back in his cradle by ten o’clock.”
Charles handed over his son and watched as Edith tucked him back into the perambulator. He kissed the cheek she offered.
Edith adjusted her hat. “I will see you at midday for luncheon.”
“I’m afraid there has been a change of plan. I must ride out to the diamond mine. My deliveryman tells me the fellow wants to leave. I must go and convince him to stay.”
“Have you finished unpacking all those boxes, Miss Fisher?” Edith’s tone was sharp.
Charles turned to see their new shop assistant at the end of the counter.
“Not yet, Mrs Wiltshire.”
“Then set to it.” Edith clapped her hands. “We can’t sell it if it’s not out of the box.” She drew Charles aside and lowered her voice. “You haven’t forgotten Leonard’s christening is on Sunday.”
“Of course not.” Charles could hardly forget the party that had been in the planning since before his son’s birth. “I will be back by the weekend.”
“I really think it’s time you gave up on that mine. It drains money and your time and we’ve had not one sign it’s worth pursuing.”
Charles inhaled deeply. “There are diamonds there, Edith. I am sure of it. We are so close to finding them.”
She gave him an indulgent look. “Very well, but please don’t be away too long. There is so much to arrange. I had thought that postponing the christening until April might mean slightly cooler weather but the heat hasn’t let up. I don’t know how I am going to keep the food cool. And just this morning your father has decided we should also have a cake for Laura’s birthday. This party is for our son, not your sister, Charles. You really must talk to him about it.”
“When I get back, Edith.” He cupped her elbow in his hand and guided her back to the perambulator. It was a large contraption they’d ordered from England, and was Edith’s pride and joy. “In the meantime, you and Mrs Coleman will manage, I am sure, and I promise I will be back in time to help.”
It was late afternoon by the time Charles and his horse and cart approached the waterhole where his employee, Barnes, was working the claim. It had been a long hot drive. Charles was covered in dust, tired and hungry.
Barnes was propped against a tree with his feet in a bucket of water when Charles brought his horse and cart to a stop behind the tents. He called a greeting but didn’t get up.
“I’ve brought you some supplies.”
“Your man’s only been here yesterday.”
“These are extra supplies.” Charles tossed back the canvas from the cart and lifted a bottle of whisky into the air.
This time Barnes did get up. “That’s very sociable of you, Mr Wiltshire.” He hobbled across the rocky ground on his bare feet and took the bottle Charles offered. The stopper was out before Charles could blink. Barnes sniffed the bottle then took a swig. “Ah!” He wiped his mouth with the back of his dirty sleeve. “That goes a long way to making a man feel better.”
“You know liquor was not part of the deal here but seeing you have been so loyal I thought I should reward you.”
“And get me to stay longer.” Barnes gave a throaty chuckle, took another swig and pushed the stopper back in. The smile left his face. “Baker’s been back here.”
Barnes waved towards the waterhole in the creek bed below and Charles saw what he hadn’t noticed before. The fence that had circled the waterhole and reached back to the bank on their side of the creek had been moved. It now cut through the middle of the dwindling water supply.
“Who did that?”
“Baker and his offsider, an older man, big with shoulders like an ox. Came up here last week. Told me their cattle needed some of the water. They shifted the fence and before they left the big man threatened me. Said he’d come back and break every bone in my body if I shifted that fence.” Barnes gripped the bottle tighter. “I believe he is capable.”
“He was just trying to frighten you.” Charles snorted. “Looks like he succeeded.”
“You don’t pay me enough money to risk a beating.”
“Baker wouldn’t let the man hurt you. He’s not a fighter. Prefers the easy path, like sneaking around doing things behind my back.” Charles spoke brashly but he knew Baker was not a sneak, and was capable of violence. He remembered the force of the punch Baker had thrown. Charles turned back to the cart. “I’ve brought you some extra items to make your life here more comfortable.”
Barnes shook his head. “In this heat there’s nothing can make a man comfortable.”
“I’ve brought a bigger tent, with a proper bed and a mattress.”
Barnes waved the bottle he still clutched. “What about this stuff?”
“I’ll make sure there’s a bottle in your regular supplies.” Charles glared at him. “As long as you continue to work the claim properly.”
Barnes waved at the pile of rocks beside the bucket he’d been soaking his feet in. “I’m doing exactly as you showed me but I haven’t found anything that looks like a diamond. I’ve put some aside that look promising just in case, but I think they’re just rocks.”
“Show me.”
Barnes waved to the table under the shade of the large gum. “Help yourself.” He pulled the stopper from the bottle and took another swig. “I’ve knocked off for the day.”
Charles snatched the bottle from the impudent man. “Not until you’ve unloaded the wagon.” He held out his hand for the stopper, which Barnes reluctantly handed over.
Tucking the bottle under his arm, Charles left his grumbling employee and went to inspect the rocks. He picked one up that had an almost octagonal shape, but he doubted it
was a diamond. He slipped it into the pouch he carried along with a couple of other possibilities. Becker had given him the name of a man in Adelaide who would check them. He shoved the pouch back in his pocket, frustrated by the lack of any progress after all this time. He scrambled down the bank, following the path worn in by the men who had worked for him there.
Down in the creek bed were the scrapings and diggings of years looking for diamonds with no result. He kicked at the rubble at his feet. Perhaps Edith was right and he should give it up — but he’d spent so much money already and the diamonds had to be there. He kicked the ground harder in frustration.
The bellow of a cow drew his gaze back to the waterhole. A large black bull looked at him from across the water. Two cows were also making their way across the sandy creek bed to the water’s edge.
Damn Baker and his cattle. The waterhole had diminished considerably and these cattle would only make it worse. Water was of the utmost importance to his claim. No searching for diamonds could be done without it. He could get Barnes to shift the fence but no doubt Baker would just move it back again. He needed a more permanent solution to his problem. Charles put his hands on his hips and glared at the beasts, their heads lowered, drinking. He needed to get rid of those cattle.
Charles was relieved to see there was no sign of life at Prosser’s Run. The men must be out on the property, and Johanna would no doubt be on her way to town to attend Leonard’s christening. He was pleased his father continued to include Johanna in family events, even if she was a little cool with Charles and Edith since her reconciliation with Georgina. Charles understood she still hadn’t come to terms with William as her son-in-law and one never knew when that advantage might prove useful.
He drove his horse and cart to the sheds beyond the house. The second smaller shed was his goal. He was sure it would contain what he was looking for.
It was an hour later when he had finally loaded the last barrel onto his cart. He could have done with help from one of the Prosser shepherds, but it was better that no-one knew he’d been there.
The heat of the sun pounded down and he lifted his hat to mop his brow.
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