by Zana Bell
And then he was gone, just like that. Once again – but for the final time – Harry Trent had walked out of her life.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following morning, Harry felt possibly the worst he ever had in his life. He’d drunk considerable amounts of brandy that had left him with a pounding head but done nothing to alleviate the fury and humiliation in his heart. How on earth had Georgie discovered his motive for going to New Zealand? Couldn’t she understand the reasons that drove him? Surely she had to see he had no choice now? And why – why in all hell – had she chosen Mellors as her companion? Her future husband. It was impossible to understand what she saw in the man.
The bright sunlight brought no answers. In fact it seemed to mock, dancing on the clear harbour waters and making Harry wince and squint.
‘Bit the worse for wear, eh Miller?’ the captain asked as they met by the gangway to bid farewell to the passengers.
‘Just a little, sir.’ Harry wished the soft shushing of the water beneath the keel wasn’t quite so loud. Wished he hadn’t allowed his jealousy to overrun his good sense during the one and only chance he’d had to talk to her. Throughout the long night he’d replayed a dozen different ways he could have spoken to her that would have led to her agreeing to stay with him, to her trusting him with her secrets. Instead he’d made a complete mull of things. Now he’d never know what the hell was going on in that stubborn, wayward head of hers. Would never be able to protect her.
She knew what he was and she scorned him for it. His soul writhed at the thought.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Georgiana arrive on deck with the children where she was enveloped in a warm embrace from Mrs Roper.
‘Oh my dear,’ Mrs Roper exclaimed. ‘Such a sweet young woman. You must come and visit us. You have my address? Bring your brother too – I’m sure we’ll love him.’
They parted with watery smiles and then it was time for Georgiana to leave the children. Harry could hear them weep as they clung to her, while their father stood to one side, nose twitching in embarrassment, saying, ‘That’s enough, now. Let Miss Trent go.’
‘You will come and visit us and tell us your stories again, won’t you?’ Julia begged.
‘And bring us some gold?’ asked Sebastian, raising his tearstained face hopefully.
‘Nuggets of the stuff, if I find it,’ Georgiana assured him, laughing through her tears. ‘And yes, I’ll tell you my stories and just think – I’ll have new ones to tell you, too.’
Harry felt strangely wrung as she said goodbye to her charges and motherly friend. She’d found a family of sorts on this ship. And now she was alone again.
Except, of course, that she was not.
In the end, it was Mellors – damn his eyes – who disentangled her from the children’s hands and who, with promises to bring her back soon, propelled Georgiana to the gangway. Up close, Harry saw Georgiana had dark rings under her eyes and felt a stab of unkind pleasure. Good. He hoped she had spent as sleepless a night as he.
The captain clasped Georgiana’s hands. ‘It has been a joy having you aboard, Miss Trent. Best sense of balance I’ve ever seen in a woman. You could’ve been one of the crew the way you took to ship life.’ He gave a braying laugh. ‘You can sign on with me any time, my girl.’
‘You cannot think how tempted I am,’ she replied, and he pinched her cheek.
‘That’s my girl. You keep that spirit of yours and may you find your brother safe and sound.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’ve been so kind.’
Then she turned to Harry and held out her hand. ‘Goodbye, Mr Miller.’
Her voice was very calm. Harry looked at her, keeping his own face and voice devoid of all emotion. ‘Good luck and safe travels,’ he said, just as he did to all departing passengers.
She murmured in reply but Mellors drowned her words with his own hearty farewells. He was as amiable as ever but Harry saw triumph in the farmer’s eyes. Then they were moving away, side by side, down the gangway. Just like that, Georgiana was walking out of his life.
Harry watched, disbelieving. She really was leaving him. But it was he who usually left! As usual, Georgie had no idea of the proper order of things at all. His hands curled into fists though he’d have been hard pressed at that moment to say which was stronger: the urge to box her ears or punch Mellors on the nose.
The captain shook his head and glanced sideways at Harry. ‘You shouldn’t let her be escaping from you like that, m’boy. Thought you had more mettle in you.’
‘She has become engaged to Mr Mellors. She informed me of that fact last evening.’
Harry’s tone was carefully neutral but the captain snorted. ‘And if you believed that, then I’ve vastly overestimated your intelligence. Rocks for brains if you swallowed that one!’
A few hours and one very bumpy but beautiful trip later, Tom and Georgiana arrived in Christchurch where they booked into a handsome hotel on the edge of the large, newly formed Hagley Park. Tom asked Georgiana if she would like to rest as she had been unusually quiet the whole journey.
‘Rest?’ Georgiana put on a good pretence of enthusiasm. ‘Not at all. I can’t wait to go exploring.’
He smiled down at her. ‘Are you sure you do not want to take a long bath, sleep in a real bed?’
‘This evening, certainly. But for now I would love to look about this city.’
She was determined not to be left alone with her thoughts. It had taken her all her self-control not to cry her eyes out in the carriage. Leaving the children had just been so hard, she told herself.
‘In that case, let’s leave our bags and go for a walk.’
‘That would be wonderful, but don’t you have business to attend to?’ She realised that in all the time they’d spent together, Tom had spoken little about his own life. ‘What exactly is your business, anyway?’
He laughed. ‘I am in a partnership in a number of interests – there’s a factory in England and some ventures in the Far East. I’ve been given the name of a man here – Malcom Sedgewick – who could open up more opportunities. New Zealand could be a very profitable country to invest in.’
This was a different Tom. Despite his farmer’s mien, he was clearly a man of means and a man of vision, and for a split second she wondered if she’d been rash to turn down his offer of marriage.
‘Do you want to contact this man now?’
‘I don’t imagine Sedgewick’ll be home during the day. We can locate his house as we walk and I’ll call again in the early evening. In the meantime we can discover the layout of the town and what pleasures it may harbour.’
‘I’d like that above all things,’ declared Georgiana. ‘And I want to find out the best means of travelling to Dunedin. Captain Dunn thought I should go by ship, but I confess I’m quite keen to stay on land now, if it’s possible. I want to see what New Zealand is really like.’
Tom smiled agreement. ‘I’m glad to be on firm ground again and will conclude my business as swiftly as possible. Then I’ll be entirely at your service.’
‘I can’t thank you enough.’
‘It’s not your thanks I look for,’ he said softly. Blushing, she looked away. Tom, seeing he had embarrassed her said, ‘Come on, let’s see what Christchurch is like.’
They passed the afternoon in exploration, enjoying the spring sunshine. It wasn’t just the upside down seasons that surprised Georgiana though, everything about New Zealand was completely different from anything she’d experienced before. Even Cape Town and Madeira, while foreign, had at least the same feeling of having been established for a very long time. The buildings and faces might be foreign, but underneath ran reassuring weavings of customs and history which, once understood, were dependable.
In New Zealand everything was so – well, new. She couldn’
t help laughing at herself and her surprise. What had she imagined, after all? There were echoes of England everywhere – in the clothes, the accents, the goods in the shops. There were pavements and gas lamps in the main streets. Yet there were differences, too. For a start, the buildings were all wooden, like towns she’d read about in the Wild West. This made them seem temporary and reminded her forcibly of a series of flats in a theatrical performance. She kept feeling if she peeked behind the shop frontages, there would be nothing there. But of course there were shops and these were filled with many of the articles stocked in any small town in England.
Georgiana also couldn’t help but notice that men considerably outnumbered women, and she encountered many speculative, sideways glances. They brought a blush to her cheeks and a rush of relief to have Tom at her side. He seemed so strong, so dependable in this new land. They stopped in front of one shop crammed with bed rolls, backpacks, picks, shovels, tin mugs and plates, and wide, shallow pans.
‘A mining shop,’ said Tom. ‘Everything a man could need in his quest for gold.’
This made Georgiana look more closely. To think that these objects, so foreign to her, would be Charles’s everyday possessions. All at once he’d never felt so close yet so far away. Her eyes misted and she blinked. Tom, noticing this, drew her hand through his arm and patted it.
‘We’ll find that brother of yours, I do assure you. I’m very keen to meet him myself. Now, is that a milliner’s over there? Let’s go and see if the London fashions have arrived here. Would you like a new bonnet to meet your brother in?’
This made Georgiana laugh. ‘As if I’d waste my money on such a thing!’
So the hours passed pleasantly. Tom was a considerate, good-humoured companion, but Georgiana couldn’t help being conscious of how different this day was compared to her first morning in Madeira. Tom was kind, but Harry had made her laugh and had entered into her spirit of enthusiastic discovery. Tom stood by and smiled patiently, talked patiently. It was not the same at all but, thought Georgiana as she gave herself a mental shake, Tom was all consideration, while Harry … Her final image of him standing pale and removed, kept coming unbidden into her mind. She forced herself to listen to Tom.
‘Mr Sedgewick’s house must be in this road.’ Tom was looking down at the paper in his hand on which the address had been written. ‘Number eight.’
They walked along the dusty road with tiny cottages and gorgeous gardens crammed with English flowers. As Tom had predicted, no one was home when they finally located the house. ‘Never mind, I’ll come back this evening. How lucky it’s just across the park from our hotel.’
‘Will your business take long?’ asked Georgiana.
Tom shook his head and pushed out his lower lip thoughtfully. ‘I don’t imagine so.’ He smiled. ‘Then I will take you out for the finest dinner Christchurch can offer.’
There again was that soft expression in his eyes and Georgiana coloured as she looked away. Seeing her discomfort, Tom directed her attention to the willow trees growing by the river and so eased the moment.
In the late afternoon, Tom took Georgiana back to the hotel before setting off to conduct his business. Georgiana had thought she’d relax, enjoy a bath and a nap, as Tom had recommended. Once alone, however, she found she couldn’t settle. She did wash, but it was an efficient rather than luxurious affair. She lay on her bed and her mind turned immediately to Harry – what would he be doing at this moment? Probably still on board. She had to stop such thoughts right now. Harry was out of her life forever. Charlie was ahead of her. Soon, God willing, she’d be with him again and starting a new life. Harry had no place in her future.
She wondered how long it would take to get to Dunedin. Tom was going to ask about a coach while he was out. He’d taken her money for safekeeping, conscious of safety in this town so filled with young men, and had promised he would buy tickets early the following day. That suited Georgiana well. Though she liked Christchurch, she was anxious to get to Charles. Just in case …
Restless, she rose from the bed and crossed to the balcony. The far, snow-tipped mountains seemed to call to her and she spent some time leaning her arms on the railings and looking at them. Images of Harry chased through her mind: drawn and white in the storm, concentrating as he set the cat’s leg, eyes glinting as he whispered, ‘Gorgeous Georges.’
That familiar feeling of desolation from her life in Ashton Hall after Charlie’s departure stole up on her, the loneliness that she never seemed to be able to escape. What if she were wrong? What if Charlie was already dead? What if she discovered that anyone she ever cared for, would ultimately leave her? Was this whole journey one massive folly, a girl’s fantasy to escape the inescapable fact that she was unloveable? Unloved.
With a cry of exasperation, Georgiana straightened. Instead of mooning around like a love-struck girl, she would go to meet Tom.
She knew he’d return across the park so, slipping a shawl over her shoulders, she made her way through the hotel and out onto the street. The twilight was deepening, the sky a rich dark blue, the first star a brilliant spark in the vast sky. Georgiana took in a deep breath, forcing herself to relax. Though she was not in love with Tom, he would help her. She should just tell him everything. She was tired of secrets and needed his calm, measured understanding.
The half-formed park, so lovely in the daylight, was now a little eerie, the trees throwing dark shadows. At times the bushes looked exactly like crouching animals or men. Georgiana pulled her shawl tight and her footsteps quickened even as she forced herself to concentrate on the softness of the air and to identify the scents of the flowers carried in the breeze. She’d just crossed a small, ornate bridge which spanned the river running through the park when she saw Tom walking towards her. She waved and called to him.
‘Sarah?’ He quickened his step and when he drew close, he caught her hands in his. ‘What are you doing out alone at this time?’ His voice was both happy and scolding.
‘I was restless and excited – and just couldn’t be alone so came to find you.’
He gave a soft laugh and his clasp tightened. ‘I’m so glad to see you. Come, let’s go back to the hotel and get some dinner – I’m starving.’
Suddenly all the menacing shadows had gone and the evening folded around them as they made their way back to the bridge.
‘How did you go? Did you find your Mr. Sedgewick?’
Tom shook his head. ‘Apparently he left over a year ago for the better prospects of Dunedin.’
‘Dunedin!’ Georgiana couldn’t keep the happiness out of her voice. In the last glimmers of the fading light, she saw him smile.
‘We may leave as soon as you like,’ he said. ‘I have no further business here.’
‘Good! Tomorrow then?’
‘First thing,’ Tom promised. He hesitated then asked, ‘Sarah, would you mind if I had a cigarette? It’s been a long day and I’ve been promising myself one these past few hours.’ He sounded so apologetic that she laughed.
‘Not at all! You’ve been so considerate and you must be craving one by now.’
They paused on the bridge while Tom pulled out his case and matches from his pocket. He didn’t notice but as he did so, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Georgiana stooped and picked it up.
‘You dropped this,’ she said, then stopped short as the match flared, illuminating the words.
Malcolm Sedgewick, 8 Wye Road
And scrawled under that in pencil,
Charles Bellingham/da Silva. Dunedin – possibly Gabriel’s Gully
The match went out and she looked up into Tom’s partially shadowed face. He was watching her. Very slowly, disbelievingly, she asked, ‘Why do you have Charles’s name?’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tom drew on his cigarette then exhaled. ‘To help you, of course. I’ve been m
aking enquiries on your behalf.’
‘But I never told you his name.’ It was strangely hard to think, to speak. The stars seemed to blur and whirl behind Tom’s head.
‘Ah.’
The tip of the cigarette flared, then spun through the air as Tom flicked it into the river. He turned to face her. ‘Your cousin supplied me with your real name and your brother’s.’
‘Jasper? But you said Ha— Mr Miller had spoken to him. Were you lying, then?’
She kept her voice flat and uncomprehending, but her brain was now beginning to work again. Every hair on her arms had lifted and she could feel the heavy thud of her heart.
‘We all tell lies at some time, do we not, Sarah?’ Tom’s gentle emphasis on her name made her shiver. She pulled her shawl tighter about her. ‘I’d suspected, of course – a young woman going to New Zealand in search of a sick brother. The coincidence struck me in Madeira, but it seemed so unlikely. Your cousin confirmed my suspicions, however, when we had our little chat. It was most illuminating.’
‘But why did he tell you anything?’
Georgiana took a step back and felt the bridge railing behind her. It was hard to think coherently, but every instinct shrieked danger. If only she weren’t wearing these cursed skirts. There was no way she could outrun Tom. He took a step closer. His teeth gleamed in the gathering dark. ‘Jasper and I had met before, you see.’
‘Where?’
‘In Shanghai. We share a common interest.’
All at once she understood everything so clearly. ‘You work for Lord Walsingham.’
‘Exactly.’
How could she have been so stupid? So blind. Oh, Harry!
‘I can assure you, you need never worry about your cousin again.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You didn’t—’
He laughed. How had she ever thought he had a nice laugh?
‘No, nothing so final, my dear. I just ensured he returned to England where Lord Walsingham will take care of him. Don’t worry, he will be sent away to somewhere quite remote – Northern China, I imagine, where he can’t trouble us. He is no longer of any use, as I have the situation under control.’