Savage Possession

by Margaret Tanner

  “I thought you brought me to Melbourne to shop.”

  “I did, but business also, it will save me coming again later on.”

  “Why didn’t you be honest and say so, not let me think this was a treat especially for me?”

  His lips thinned, but before he could answer, a knock on the door interrupted them. A porter brought in their trunks and placed them in the adjoining dressing room. A minute or two afterward, Effie arrived with afternoon tea. The tray was set up with dainty rose patterned china cups, a silver teapot and a plate of sandwich fingers and heart-shaped shortbread.

  Beth felt like refusing to eat only Martin would not fall for such a ploy, would go and meet his agent even if she starved herself.

  She poured their tea, which they drank at a small table on a private balcony overlooking splendid gardens. How could she stay angry in the face of such tranquil beauty?

  “This is nice.”

  “I wanted the finest suite of rooms in the hotel with the best views for my storm girl.” He flicked her under the chin with a long tanned finger.

  “Do you have to go right now?”

  “Yes.” After draining his cup, he placed it back on the saucer and stood. “Take your time with the tea then have a lie down. I won’t be gone long.”

  After he left, she ate the sandwiches and poured herself another cup of tea. The gardens stretched for acres and acres. The English elms and poplars, and the bushy shrubs were leafy and green. In the neat garden beds, daffodils and daisies nodded their heads in the breeze. Far into the distance, a smooth sheet of water shimmered. Martin would have to take her there for a stroll later on so they could enjoy the tranquility.

  She brought the tray inside and placed it on the dresser. Removing her gown and petticoats, she turned back the covers on the huge brass bed and slipped between satin sheets.

  * * *

  Beth glanced around groggily when Martin shook her awake.

  “Time to get up if we want to eat,” he said tersely.

  “Did I sleep for too long?” She pushed the bedclothes away and swung her legs out of bed. “Will it be all right if I wear the same gown?”

  “Yes, wear whatever you like.”

  “But, Martin.”

  “I don’t care what you wear, just hurry up. I’m hungry.” Taking up a rigid, stiff-leg stance he glared at her.

  “If you’d eaten afternoon tea instead of rushing off…”

  “Don’t answer me back.” He cut off her flow of words with an angry sweep of his hand. “Get dressed.”

  “If I don’t choose to?” she shot back.

  “You’ll go without dinner.”

  Disappearing into the dressing room, he slammed the door shut.

  She should not argue with him, not when his mood was so foul. What had happened at the meeting with his agent?

  It did not take long to put the blue gown back on. Fortunately, she had hung it up and most of the creases had dropped out. She sat in front of the mirror to tidy her hair and pinched her cheeks to bring back a little color. Martin strode in, freshly shaved, his hair combed back yet still managing to wave. He had changed into a white evening shirt, but still wore the same pants.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes.” Her lips trembled.

  “I’m sorry for snarling at you before.” He took her hand and helped her rise. “There’s been pilfering at one of my dockside warehouses. I will not tolerate theft. I’ve brought all the ledgers back here with me, and I’ll cross match who worked each time the stuff was stolen. I’ll get to the bottom of this never fear, then they will be dismissed. I’ll make it my business to ensure no-one else in Melbourne employs them, either.”

  “Maybe they were desperate for money.”

  The anger disappeared from his eyes. “Oh, storm girl, you’re too soft hearted.”

  The dining room had a frescoed ceiling. A huge basket shaped chandelier threw out a flickering subdued light. The place epitomized solid, understated good taste.

  “The food here is delicious,” Martin said, accepting a glass of wine from the uniformed waiter. “Order whatever you like.” He handed over a black, gold-trimmed menu.

  “Would you care for wine, madam?”

  “No, thank you, orange juice will do.”

  They both ordered turtle soup followed by roast beef, gravy and vegetables. Thank goodness, the menu was in English so she could choose something for herself. Had it been written in French, or comprised exotic foods, she would have needed his help.

  “Would you care to have breakfast down here tomorrow, my sweet? Or we could have food brought to our room.”

  “Here please, it’s nice.”

  “Good.” Mellowed by the wine, Martin’s ill humor abated. “They have a pretty courtyard garden where you can eat during the day. This place is a small slice of paradise in the middle of a bustling city, that’s why I always stay here.”

  The meal was served at such a leisurely pace Beth could not believe her ears when a nearby clock struck ten. Martin took her into the music room where a young woman played the piano, and several matrons sat around, gossiped or read. He left her there to go to the smoking room for a cigar, obviously thinking she would be able to amuse herself.

  She had nothing in common with these pampered, wealthy women, whose topics of conversation revolved around the ingratitude of servants, and the latest fashions from Paris.

  Martin returned about half an hour later a wide grin on his face. At least he had enjoyed his sojourn with the other men, whereas she felt alien here, completely out of place.

  “You look pleased with yourself. Did you enjoy the company of the other men?” She slipped her arm through his.

  He caressed her hand with his warm strong fingers. “Yes, I haven’t seen many of them for a while. I heard Ollie’s expected here tomorrow.”

  “Oh?”

  “Got some business to attend to.” He gave a low chuckle. “Enjoyable business if I know Ollie.”

  “To do with the Black Stallion?”

  “Of course, the place is his whole life.”

  “I don’t think I’d like the owner of such a place.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll like Ollie, everyone does.”

  “He owns a brothel.” The thought of people making money out of women selling their bodies horrified her.

  “He runs a legitimate business, offering a service for which he’s paid.”

  “A brothel, Martin, it’s awful.”

  “They’re necessary in a country with a large, single male population. It’s not a sleazy whorehouse. Let’s forget Ollie and go up to bed. I’m anxious for you, my sweet.”

  * * *

  Oliver Driscoll, Ollie to his friends, had known Martin since they met at boarding school. Why had Martin married Fergus Campbell’s granddaughter, even if he did get her with child? Wealthy men could always pay for these kinds of mistakes to go away. He always spoke of the Campbells with such loathing, inconceivable he would actually marry one. It would take a cunning woman to get the best of Martin Mulvaney.

  Ollie spotted Martin the moment he stepped into the breakfast room and raised his hand in greeting. On seeing his companion, the breath caught in his throat. How exquisite, enormous blue eyes and ice blonde hair. As they approached his table, Ollie noticed her skin was alabaster white, smooth as porcelain. Her lips trembled and her eyes held a wounded sadness. Instinctively he knew she was upset.

  Close up, Martin’s lips were tight as he made the introductions, and Ollie sensed his anger.

  “How do you do, Oliver, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. “I’m glad we’ve finally met, Elizabeth. Martin’s told me a lot about you.”

  “Has he?” Disbelief raised her voice.

  “Mrs. Irvine told me I’d find you here.” Ollie fingered his moustache. “I’ll have bacon and eggs.”

  “Me too,” Martin decided. “Elizabeth?”

  “Toast thank you, and a c
up of tea.”

  “You should eat something more substantial. You have our child to think of.”

  “I don’t feel like it.”

  “Please yourself,” he growled.

  Ollie realized his first impressions were correct, they had argued. “What are your plans for today?”

  “I have to go into the shipping office, there’s been stealing from one of my warehouses.” Martin drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “I sat up late last night going through the ledgers. I’ve narrowed the culprit down to a couple of men.”

  “He’s been up half the night working on his books so he can put some poor man out of work today.”

  “The man’s a thief.”

  Ollie watched her cheeks flush to a rosy pink before she lowered her head. “Come on, Martin, arguments this early in the morning will give you indigestion.”

  “I’m sorry Oliver, Martin and I are being very rude. Do you often come to Melbourne on business?”

  “Now and again when I need to employ extra staff.”

  “Ollie prefers Melbourne women, they’re more experienced.”

  Martin’s answer caused Ollie to squirm with embarrassment. Had Martin told her he was on the lookout for more whores?

  “Sorry Oll, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Let’s change the topic,” Ollie suggested. “What are your plans for today, Elizabeth?”

  “Martin promised to take me shopping.”

  “You can still go. You don’t need me,” Martin growled.

  “I won’t know my way around. Please.” Her desperate plea should have melted any man, but he remained unmoved.

  “Would you like me to accompany you, Elizabeth?” Ollie offered.

  She glanced at Martin. “Would that be proper?”

  “If Ollie doesn’t mind, but I thought you had, um, business appointments.”

  “I do.” Ollie shrugged. “This afternoon will do.”

  “Thank you.” Her radiant smile lit up the whole of her face. “I’ve never been to Melbourne before, or ever seen such fine shops,” she told him earnestly.

  “I know my way around quite well,” Ollie boasted. How could Martin promise a sweet, exquisite girl a treat then let her down because of petty theft? What kind of fool would snuff out the stars lighting up her eyes?

  She ate daintily. Unbelievable for Fergus Campbell to have such a beautiful granddaughter. Why hadn’t she collapsed on his doorstep?

  “If I meet you down here at ten, will that be convenient?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She touched his hand in a friendly spontaneous gesture. “Whatever time you say, Oliver.”

  “Let her buy whatever takes her fancy, Oll. I’ll give you some money before you leave.”

  “I don’t want too many gowns.” Martin obviously thought he could bribe her with a few clothes. “In a little while they won’t fit me.” She could not believe how young and friendly Oliver was, nothing like what she imagined a brothel owner might look like.

  “Don’t worry about money.” Martin gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “If you see something you like, buy it.”

  After they finished breakfast, Martin escorted her upstairs to prepare for the shopping trip.

  “I’ll be back in time for us to take a stroll through the gardens,” he promised.

  “Thank you sounds pleasant.”

  “What have I done to deserve this cold treatment?”

  “Once you’d satisfied your lust last night, you rushed off to those ledgers. You made me feel like a harlot.”

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  Dragging her into his arms, his mouth swooped on hers in a savage kiss that forced her lips apart. As soon as his kisses became gentle, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Enough,” he groaned, shifting his mouth to her throat. “I’d undress you and take you back to bed if we had the time.” Even as he spoke, his hand cupped her breast and his thumb and forefinger laved her nipple.

  “Don’t go, please.”

  “We can’t keep Ollie waiting, my sweet, come down when you’re ready.” He stepped back a pace. “Buy a party gown, something special. We’ve been invited to a supper dance tonight, and I want my wife to eclipse every other woman there.”

  Before she could ask about the party, he disappeared out the door.

  * * *

  Just before ten, Ollie met Elizabeth at the foot of the stairs. He had slicked his hair back and trimmed his moustache in the hope she would forget, even for a short time, about him owning the Black Stallion.

  “A punctual woman,” he said with a smile, thinking she moved with the grace of a gazelle. What a sweet, exquisite girl. Inner beauty gave her a special radiance and for the first time ever, he regretted his own sullied lifestyle.

  When they stepped out into the street, he put his top hat on.

  “You’ve made up with Martin?”

  “Yes.” Heat scorched her cheeks and her hand went guiltily to her lips. “Did…did he tell you?”

  “Of course not. His temper had improved, so I guessed you must have resolved your differences. Where would you like to go first, my dear?”

  “Anywhere.”

  The spring sun shone as they strolled along heading for the palatial shops in Collins Street. Ollie enjoyed watching his companion eagerly rush up to the windows to exclaim about how beautiful things were.

  They shopped until Beth felt like dropping with fatigue. She bought several day gowns, and for the supper dance, he urged her to buy a pale blue taffeta gown trimmed with deeper blue. Pink rosebuds were scattered around the scalloped hemline. He insisted she should buy the matching cloak, and dainty evening slippers. She dared not ask how much they spent, but each time she protested about the expense, he insisted Martin could afford it.

  “Will you be at the supper dance tonight, Oliver?” They sat opposite each other in a quaint little tearoom off the Royal Arcade.

  “Yes, Twig went to school with Martin and me.”

  “Twig?” She giggled. “What a strange name.”

  “It’s a nickname. He’s the Honorable Michael Branch.”

  “Branch, Twig, how clever.” She clapped her hands, liking the way Oliver smiled at her as she ate scones spread with jam and cream.

  “Thank you for taking me shopping. I had such a nice time. I wish Martin had come with us.”

  Gazing into her honest blue eyes, he saw love illuminated in them, and cursed Martin under his breath for being such a fool as to not realize his good fortune.

  “Do you think he might be back yet?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, his warehouses are in Port Melbourne, somewhere near the waterfront. If you’ve finished shopping, we could go to E.W. Cole’s book arcade. It’s further up Bourke Street. There’s an aviary there, and I understand they’ve got several monkeys on display as well.”

  “Could we go there? Oh please, I’ve never seen a real monkey before.”

  He glanced at his pocket watch - nearly two o’clock!

  “I’m so sorry, it’s later than I thought. Martin will have to take you. I must see to my business. It’s the reason I came to Melbourne, although you’ve been a delightful diversion for me. I’ve enjoyed our morning together, Elizabeth.”

  “Thank you, I did too.”

  He escorted her back to the hotel, waiting at the foot of the stairs until she let herself into her room, then with a wave of his hand walked away.

  Beth felt so weary now all she wanted to do was a lie down. Doubtful whether she would sleep because her feet and legs ached from walking so long on the unaccustomed hard pavement.

  She must have dozed off, but sat bolt upright when someone knocked on the door.

  “Mrs. Mulvaney.” A female voice called out her name, so she slid off the bed and straightened up her petticoats. “Mrs. Mulvaney.” It came again, louder, more insistent.

  “Beth inched the door open. “Yes.”

  “There’s a woman outside asking for you, she said
it was urgent,” Effie explained.

  “Give me a couple of minutes to tidy myself up. I went for a lie down and must have dozed off.” Even as she spoke, Beth started to get dressed.

  “One of the porters gave me the message,” Effie said.

  She followed Effie downstairs to the foyer where a young porter met them.

  “Who’s asking for me?”

  “Some woman outside. I wouldn’t have bothered you, Mrs. Mulvaney except she insisted it was a matter of life and death. Broke down and wept, she’s very distressed.”

  “You did the right thing getting me.”

  Outside the hotel, at the side of the main door, a young woman slumped against the wall. Beth could not believe how wretched the poor thing looked. Pale, gaunt, eyes red rimmed from crying, she wore a shabby brown skirt and threadbare white blouse.

  “You wanted to see me? I’m Elizabeth Mulvaney.”

  “Mrs. Mulvaney.” The woman rushed up to Beth and grabbed her hand. “My name is Lilly Preston. I’m begging you to help me.” Brown hair pinned back in a tight bun emphasized the sharp thinness of her face.

  “I’ll help you if I can, but what do you want of me?”

  “Make your husband give John his job back. We have three children, they’ve been sick and so have I. There isn’t much work around so we’ll starve. He didn’t steal from those shipping crates.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Your husband works at the waterfront?”

  “Yes.”

  This woman must be the wife of the man Martin had dismissed.

  “You’re exhausted. Come into the hotel while I arrange tea for us.”

  “No, I can’t go in there.” She glanced down at her shabby clothes.

  “There’s a little garden out the back where we could go.”

  “Thank you, I couldn’t. Please, I need you to speak to your husband.”

  “We’ll have our tea before we talk. You don’t have to go through the foyer, there’s a side entrance we can use.”

  Beth ordered a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches on Martin’s account, and insisted Lilly have a cup of tea and eat some of the food. The poor woman ate ravenously. Dear God, never let me be so poor or hungry.