“I couldn’t. You don’t want me to put this woman’s purchases on your account do you, Mr. Mulvaney?”
Dunstan raised his voice. Beth knew he wanted to humiliate the woman, who cringed with embarrassment. How many times over the years had he done the same thing to the Campbells?
Martin strode over, opened his mouth to speak, but Beth jumped in first.
“Mr. Dunstan,” she said with haughty coldness, remembering how he always enjoyed grandfather’s humiliation. “The lady wants a twenty-pound bag of flour, ten pounds of salt and sugar, tea and raisins, oh, and ten yards of blue cotton material too, and put it on my husband’s account.”
The woman protested. Martin’s face turned black as a thundercloud, while old man Dunstan blustered.
“As for you.” She turned to face Mrs. Dunstan who watched with a holier than thou expression on her face. “You sanctimonious old bitch.”
Martin’s jaw dropped.
“My husband got me with child a few weeks before we were married, not like you, only married four months before you gave birth.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the store. Even the children stopped their squabbles. Mrs. Dunstan’s face turned an ugly puce color, while Mr. Dunstan’s face became so flushed he looked ready to explode.
“You heard my wife, put everything on my account, and help the lady out with her purchases.”
“Thank you, sir, very kind of you, but I couldn’t,” the woman protested.
“I can afford it.”
“Please take the stuff for the children,” Beth gently insisted. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to help someone else who’s a little down on their luck.”
She rubbed her head against Martin’s arm. He did not say a word, although tension stiffened his body.
“Thank you. God bless both of you.” The woman gathered up her children and followed the youth commandeered to carry the supplies. The children turned around to wave, and Beth blew them a kiss.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked as Martin picked up her purchases from a now sullen Mr. Dunstan.
“I’m tempted to strangle you.” He gave a sudden grin as they walked out of the store, and it took years off his age. “Sanctimonious old bitch, where did you learn language like that?”
“Alistair.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, what am I going to do with you?”
He dumped the purchases in the buggy then slipped his arm through hers as they continued down the street.
“Where are we going now?” she asked.
“To the Wisteria tearooms.”
“Oh no, I spent the money on the children’s sweets.”
“Do you want to go there or not?”
“Yes.”
“Well, don’t argue, I could do with a drink after your little outburst. Sanctimonious old bitch indeed.” He gave a deep-throated chuckle.
It did not take long for them to stroll to the tearoom and enter through a large glass door. Lace curtains covered the windows and pendant type lamps were set at intervals around the walls.
They ordered sandwiches, tea and cakes from a young waitress who wore a black gown with starched white sleeves and matching apron. On her dark head rested a lacy white cap.
“Order something more substantial, if you like.” Martin gave an indulgent smile, watching Elizabeth’s enraptured gaze. What a time he would give her in Melbourne. They would stay at the best hotel and shop in the many high class stores. He wanted to introduce her to all the delights of a large city, and after their child’s birth, they could even travel overseas. Having travelled extensively himself through Paris, Rome and London, her awe and wonderment would add freshness for him too.
“You’re smiling, Martin. “Happy thoughts?”
“After our child is delivered, I thought we could take a trip overseas. Would you like that?”
“Yes, but can you travel so far with a baby?”
“The child won’t be coming with us. I’ll employ a nursemaid and Mrs. Irvine will be there to help.”
“Nobody will look after your baby except me, it will be too precious to trust to anyone else,” she surprised him by saying.
“We’ll see.” He put his hand out and traced the line of her jaw with the tip of one finger. How fine boned and fragile she looked, although strength lurked under the surface. She had certainly showed the fighting qualities of her Scottish ancestors by standing up to old Dunstan.
Their food arrived, and he bit into a sandwich straight away, while she nibbled thoughtfully.
“Why did you help that woman?”
“I felt sorry for her and the children because didn’t seem fair me buying a lot, when she couldn’t afford to even buy food. You’ve never been poor, you don’t know what it’s like to want something desperately and not be able to have it.”
Her eyes burned with remembered pain. “Mr. Dunstan used to humiliate us when grandfather didn’t have much money. The day before our seventh birthday, we went into town. I saw a doll in the window. Oh, she was so beautiful, with long black curls and a painted face. Her pink gown belled out over lacy petticoats. I loved her on sight, and Alistair wanted a train set.”
Martin leaned forward in his seat.
“Grandfather didn’t have much money. Granny had been ill before she died, and he spent a lot on medicines. He asked us what we wanted for our birthday. We showed him the doll and the train set.”
She picked up Martin’s hand and gripped it tightly.
“Grandfather said he didn’t have any money. I cried, I didn’t understand. He wanted Mr. Dunstan to let us have the toys, promised to pay him back. ‘I need money, Mr. Campbell, I need money.’ I can still hear him saying it.”
“You didn’t get the doll?”
“Next day when we woke up, the doll sat on my bed, and Alistair got his train set. We found out later grandfather sold his father’s skean dhu. A Highlander’s dirk,” she answered his unspoken query. “You wear it strapped to your leg, his most prized possession, but he didn’t want us to be disappointed.”
“Well, my father had plenty of money.” Martin’s mouth twisted bitterly. “He bought me nothing.”
“He was a bad, cruel man like Jeb Mueller. Men like him don’t deserve to have a son.”
Thoughts of his own wretched childhood turned him off the sickly fruit tarts, although Elizabeth ate with enjoyment.
“Ooh, nice.” She licked the crumbs off her lips with her little pink tongue. The satisfied, slumberous expression in her eyes caused heat to spread across his loins.
Chapter Ten
“We’ll be taking the early morning train to Melbourne tomorrow,” Martin announced at lunch a few days after their trip into town.
“I’ve never been on a train before.” She could not keep the wonderment out of her voice.
“I prefer coach travel myself, but the road is bumpy in parts, so the train will be more comfortable for you in your condition.”
Beth’s excitement rose to fever pitch. How would she survive until tomorrow? Many times she and Alistair had talked about going to Melbourne on the train when they became rich, and now she was going. Oh, if only he could accompany them. Common sense told her Martin would never agree.
After Martin returned to work, Mrs. Irvine helped with the packing. He had instructed her to take only enough items to last a couple of days, as he intended to take her shopping for a complete new wardrobe of clothes.
That night in bed, after a long passionate session of lovemaking, she lay in Martin’s arms listening to his regular, even breathing. Would he still be so ardent when her stomach became swollen with the pregnancy? He once said fat women disgusted him.
I shouldn’t think like this. He loves me, even if he hasn’t said so in as many words. She desperately wanted to believe this.
Would he turn to other women if she could not please him as the pregnancy advanced, or after their child was delivered? He was a passionate lover who demanded a lot from her, and she lived in mortal fear
of not always being able to satisfy him. The temptation to wake him up so he would reassure her, pledge undying love, promise never to take another woman, almost overwhelmed her. She turned her head away, knowing deep down he would never utter those words out aloud.
* * *
They caught the morning train to Melbourne. From Wangaratta their journey would take several hours. As she settled into the soft leather seat Beth felt glad Martin had bought them first class return tickets, even if they did cost more than seventy shillings each. This seemed an enormous amount of money but then, she reminded herself, he could well afford it.
He let her sit next to the window so she could watch the countryside; excitement surged through her as soon as the train steamed out of the station.
“I’ve always dreamed of riding on a train, now I am.”
Laughing indulgently at her enthusiasm, he thought how sweet and unworldly she still was. What a delight it would be to show her the sights of Melbourne.
They passed mile upon mile of brooding countryside, with a few isolated settlements interspersed here and there. After a time, her eyes grew heavy looking and her shoulders drooped.
“You’re tired, my sweet,” he whispered, putting his arm around her so she could rest against him. “Have a little snooze; it will help pass the time. We stop for refreshments at Seymour. I could never understand why they don’t have a buffet car on this train. It’s a nuisance having to get off.”
She rubbed her cheek against his arm and snuggled up to him. “I do feel weary.”
With a single glance, he savaged two black-garbed matrons sitting across from them as they sniffed to each other about Elizabeth’s outward show of affection.
On the outskirts of Seymour, he shook her awake, and she blinked several times. Her face seemed pale and drawn and he cursed under his breath. The journey to Melbourne was obviously too long and arduous for a pregnant woman. When they steamed into Seymour station, he helped her up.
“We’ve got about twenty minutes,” he said. “If you don’t feel up to it, I’ll bring something back to the train for you.”
“No, I’m all right. I’ve got a headache and I feel a bit groggy.” She stamped her feet a few times to get the circulation flowing once more. “A nice cup of tea and some food will fix me up.”
Fortunately, the train being half-empty enabled him to get their tea and sandwiches with little delay. They stood up to eat and drink, which gave Beth a chance to stretch her limbs. The tea tasted a little too milky but she drank all of it and ate the sandwiches. Martin drank his tea with a grimace of distaste, and ate nothing.
“Aren’t you hungry?” She felt rather piggish wolfing down her third sandwich.
“No, you have them all. Would you like another cup of tea?”
“Yes please, my headache is much better.” She watched him stride over to the refreshment counter.
A woman draped from head to foot in black stepped up to him, but he brushed her aside. “You’re a bastard, Martin Mulvaney.”
Beth gasped in shock at the woman’s vicious comment, and by his rigid back, he must have heard, although he didn’t even turn around.
When he came back with the tea, his features were set into angry lines, his lips thin.
“Do you know that lady?” she asked, accepting the tea from him. What a stupid question, the woman had addressed him by name.
He grimaced. “I suppose I must. A case of my past catching up with me at a guess.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
Beth watched a grubby, ferret-faced youngish man stomp up to the woman and grasp her arm. As they passed by the woman halted, and came up close to Beth. A heavy black veil hid her face, with not one inch of bare flesh exposed.
“Stealing virgins from the school room now, Martin?”
His eyes narrowed to slits. Purposely, he turned his back on the woman and took the now empty cup from Beth’s trembling hand.
Shaking her arm free from her companion, the woman took a step closer to Beth.
“Are you staying at a fancy hotel? Get what you can out of the cowardly wretch before he casts you aside, and takes up with someone else.”
“Martin and I happen to be married,” Beth retorted, not wanting to give this woman the satisfaction of knowing how her nastiness offended.
“I pity you.” The woman minced off.
“Time we got back on the train.” Martin took her arm in a firm grip. “Don’t take any notice of such a vicious creature.”
“She seems to hate you.”
His expression hardened. “Probably does.”
“Did you take her to the hotel we’re staying at?”
“Of course not.” He helped her on to the train and they made their way down the carriage to their seat. Sensing his anger, Beth turned her head toward him; his face could have been cast from stone.
He didn’t speak again, just brooded. The women sitting opposite had left the train at Seymour, allowing them to have the carriage to themselves. Had the woman in black once loved him? Turned bitter perhaps because he had spurned her? Beth wanted to ask him, but could not pluck up the courage to intrude on his black mood.
Martin suddenly broke the silence. “Don’t waste your pity on her. I would have paid her well for anything she did for me.”
“Maybe she cared for you.”
His harsh bark of laughter echoed in the empty carriage. “Like all the others, she would have only wanted my money.”
Beth put her hand over his clenched fist. “Having lots of money won’t make people happy,” she told him softly. “We didn’t have enough to eat sometimes, yet granny and grandfather gave us lots of love, which made us happy.”
“I had plenty of money, but nothing else,” he retorted bitterly. “My father was a sadist, my mother so beaten and scared she couldn’t show me any affection. If it hadn’t been for Sam, my childhood would have been intolerable.”
“Sam’s a nice man, I like him a lot.”
“I couldn’t wait to be sent away to school. I only came to the castle for holidays if I knew Sam would be there.”
“Forget the bad things, they’re in the past.”
“I don’t know whether I can.”
The wretched hopelessness in his voice grieved her. A little boy lost look replaced the coldness in his eyes, and for a moment, he seemed vulnerable, before his hard mask slipped back into place again.
This transient vulnerability, the fleeting gentleness surfacing from beneath his harsh exterior had made her fall in love with him. She understood for certain now, he did not know how to love.
He was a wealthy, well-educated thirty-year-old man, raised without affection from anyone, except Sam. Could she show him how to love by giving him the son he now craved? If she could not, they were doomed. I have to. I have to.
“What did you say, my sweet?”
“I must have been thinking out loud.” She rubbed her cheek against his arm. “Maybe I’ll be able to tell you one day.”
On arrival in Melbourne, she glanced around with interest while Martin hired a carriage to take them to a hotel a short distance away. The fancy drapers and millinery shops in Collins Street immediately caught her eye. Some of the stores were several stories high. As she craned her neck for a better view, he laughed good-naturedly at her awe.
The Royal Hotel was a three-storied affair with an entrance portico providing shelter for the carriages when they deposited their passengers. Two uniformed men greeted them, one went to unload the trunks, the other ushered them into a carpeted foyer.
The staircase, facing the elaborate carved doors, had blue carpet. A huge stained glass window dominated one wall. Crystal teardrop chandeliers twinkled like a million stars. Her eyes widened with disbelief at the opulence of this place.
She tried not to let her awe show too much as Martin, obviously used to such luxury, never batted an eyelid. From the way the staff fawned over him, he must have stayed here before
.
“Is the Mahogany suite available?”
“Of course, Mr. Mulvaney.”
“Thank you. I’ve told my wife what a splendid establishment you run and she wanted to stay here,” he said suavely, letting the staff know her position in his life.
For a moment, the man looked taken aback, but he recovered his composure in a flash. “I hope you enjoy your stay here with us, Mrs. Mulvaney.”
“I’m sure I will thank you.”
“Will you require a personal maid, or have you brought your own with you?” He glanced around looking for someone else.
“I didn’t bring a maid, and I won’t require one, thank you.”
Martin signed Mr. and Mrs. M. Mulvaney in a leather bound register, then a young maid in a black gown and white lacy cap escorted them upstairs.
“When your trunks are brought up, I’ll unpack for you, Mrs. Mulvaney.”
“Thank you, we haven’t brought much, I can do it.”
“But…”
“Just show us upstairs for now. I’m sure my wife will find a few errands for you to run while we’re here, Effie isn’t it?”
“Oh, Mr. Mulvaney, you remembered.”
“Well, of course, what man could forget a pretty young woman like you?” Martin gave one of his rare, devastating smiles, and both Beth and the maid nearly melted into a heap at his feet. He could turn the charm on when disposed to do so. Why didn’t he do it more often?
After Effie showed them into their room, Martin gave her a shilling, and the girl looked set to become his devoted, lifelong slave.
“Would you bring sandwiches up for us? We haven’t eaten for a while and my wife wishes to rest before dinner.”
“Yes, straight away, Mr. Mulvaney.”
After the maid departed, Beth turned on him. “I don’t need to lie down. I want to have tea in the dining room.”
“You need your rest. They don’t serve dinner until after eight o’clock. I have to go out for a while to meet with my shipping agent in Port Melbourne.”
“Why?”
“This is partly a business trip. Profits have fallen off and I want to know why. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in plenty of time to escort you to dinner.”
Savage Possession Page 17