The way Taggart mimicked the upper classes when he spoke these words suddenly made it clear to everyone in the room what Taggart’s problem was – he hated Rutherford Petch because he was gentry – even here, all these thousands of miles away from home, it seemed that a refined way of speaking and good manners were still enough to get a man treated differently, for all he was a common thief.
The captain however had had enough of the prevarication. He didn’t care that Taggart was aggrieved by the summons. He had a job to do and he intended to do it.
“Just fetch the man to me, Mr Taggart, and let me get on with my day. I don’t have time for this.”
“I’m not stopping him from working now. He can walk into town later, if you trust him not to take off into the bush.”
“Oh, I think I can guarantee he won’t do that,” said the captain, taking a folded paper from his pocket, “Give him this letter and he’ll find his way into town quick enough. Tell him to come to the barracks and ask for me, Captain Anthony Higgs.”
“So you do know why they want him,” said Taggart bitterly.
“I’ve a good idea, but it has nothing to do with you, so make sure the man gets that letter. If he doesn’t arrive at the barracks this evening, I’ll be back in the morning for him and I’ll be taking you in too.”
With that he drained his teacup and picking up his hat, he walked out, calling his men away from the shade of a gum tree and ordering them back onto their mounts.
Taggart watched from the doorway until he could no longer see the cloud of dust they raised and their hoof beats died away into the drowsy heat of the afternoon.
Turning to his wife he said, “Didn’t you once tell me you can read?” he asked. She looked at him fearfully, nodding slowly.
“Open that and tell me what it says,” he thrust the letter into her hands, but she tried to push him away, her breath coming in short little gasps of panic.
“No, no, they’ll hang me for touching a letter from the Governor!”
“Don’t be stupid, how will they ever know? Just open it or I’ll hang you myself, upside down from that bloody gum tree in the front!”
His raised hand showed her that he meant every word he said, so she took the paper, but her hands shook and she could barely manage to break the seal and unfold it without tearing it.
“Well,” he demanded, “What does it say?”
She looked up at him, her mouth falling open with surprise, “It says that there has been word from England that there is new evidence and they want to talk to him about it.”
“Damnation!” said Taggart, almost spitting the words so deep was his fury, “they won’t say it in a letter, but you can be sure that means he’ll be going home. My best worker and I’ll lose him – and I’ll bet the bastards won’t give me the money back I paid for him. Well, we’ve got to put a stop to it.”
“How are you going to do that?” she asked, “If he really is innocent, they’ll send him right back, on the next ship they can find, won’t they?”
Taggart paced the dirt floor for a few seconds, thinking of and rejecting ideas.
“We’ll have to accuse him of stealing. They can’t send him back if he’s a thief.”
Florrie was desperate now to save Rutherford. She liked him. He had treated her like a lady, spoken softly and courteously to her when their paths crossed. She wanted him to get home; she wanted to vicariously live through him, so that in her darkest moments she could imagine him back in England, thinking of her with gratitude because she had helped him to escape.
“That’s no good,” she said, emboldened by his including her in his deliberations, “He’s just been found not guilty – why would he thieve here, if he didn’t back there? And the others would speak out for him. They know we have nothing worth pinching.”
Taggart would have liked to slap her for disagreeing with him, but he had to admit she had a point. He looked at her, dislike shining in his eyes. She was suddenly very keen on helping a bloody convict. And then it hit him. The perfect excuse to put paid to Rutherford Petch and his reprieve.
“We’ll say he assaulted you,” he said, an evil grin spreading over his face, “Let them send him back with a rape charge hanging over him.”
*
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Port Macquarie, New South Wales, Australia
February, 1828
Florrie stared at him in horror. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wanted to scream at him that she wouldn’t do it, she wouldn’t lie and send an innocent man to the gallows, but she knew she would be wasting her breath. He would just beat her until she agreed and if that didn’t work, he would start on the children. He knew she couldn’t bear to see her babies suffer – it didn’t seem to bother him that they were his children too. He did not appear to have any affection for them at all. It didn’t help that they were all girls. He considered them to be worse than useless, that was why he kept trying for a boy, she knew that it wasn’t because he couldn’t resist her charms. He had made that quite clear. He had his fun in town and only used her to get the boys he wanted to help him on the farm the moment they were big enough to work.
No, she couldn’t answer him back – she had to be cleverer than that. But she had to be careful too, not give in too easily, or he would guess that she intended to foil his plans. She thought carefully before she answered him.
“Do you think they’d believe that? What would a gentleman like him be doing, looking at the likes of me? I’ve just had a baby – he’d have to be pretty desperate.”
“Do you think they’re not?” he sneered, not even bothering to disagree with her denigration of her own unattractive body, “None of those men have had a woman for months, if not years. Even you would be better than nothing.”
“But when would he get the chance? I’m never alone with him. He’s always with the others and I’m in the house or with you.” She was playing for time and hoped that he didn’t realize that she was trying to formulate a way of saving Petch without injury to herself and more especially to her babies.
“Then we’ll have to make time for you to be together. Leave it to me. I want the men to clear the pond of some of the reeds, see if we can get the water clearer and shut those bloody frogs up. I’ll find an excuse for him to stay near the house. The minute you see him on his own, you come out and speak to him, pretend to offer him a drink or something, then start screaming blue murder. I’ll come running with the others and we’ll catch him in the act.”
“I’ll do my best, but I’m not very good at acting. I hope I can be convincing,” she said worriedly, but inside she was exultant. I’m fooling you, all right, with my acting, she thought gleefully.
“You just scream and look shocked, I’ll do the rest,” he said grimly.
She watched him walk toward the men, still all sweating and labouring, despite the heat and though she couldn’t hear his words, she saw him gesture to all but Rutherford to pick up their tools and go towards the pond. Rutherford was sent up to the house, his spade over his shoulder. He saw her standing at the door and smiled at her.
“I’ve to fill in the latrine and dig a fresh one, if that’s convenient, ma’am,” he said.
“Come inside first, and I’ll make you a drink,” she invited, hitching the baby into a more comfortable position.
“No, thank you all the same, but that wouldn’t be proper whilst you are alone, Mrs Taggart,” he answered and she could have cried that he was thinking of her reputation when her husband was planning to accuse him of something so foul. She knew that time was running out and she no longer had the luxury of polite conversation, “Step over here, Mr Petch, I need to talk to you in private.”
He did as he was asked, but even then he kept a decorous distance between them, “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“You saw the soldiers earlier?” she questioned him impatiently.
“I did.”
“They came for you,” she told him and was distres
sed to see that the colour drained from his face, and she realized that in his position, one always assumed the worst, “Oh, don’t look like that!” she admonished him impatiently, “It was good news. The Governor wants to see you, I think they have new evidence that proves your innocence.”
It took him a moment to assimilate what she was telling him and a slow grin spread across his face as it finally sank in, “Good God, I thought my end had come! I imagined they had found a way to see me off completely! My cousin Ormond was hardly likely to leave me free to return and retake my inheritance without a fight!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, and I need you to shut up and listen,” she hissed desperately, “Taggart hates you and he’s determined not to let you go. He wants me to say that you attacked me. If he get his way, they’ll hang you. Now, what are we going to do about it?”
He looked at her for a long time before he asked huskily, “Are you going to do it?”
“What choice do I have? If I disobey him, he’ll hurt the children.”
He glanced down at the baby in its sling. The other two were fenced into a corner of the kitchen and already knew better than to cry for attention when their father was around. They either played with pebbles, sticks and bits of old rag that their mother gave them, or slept in the heat, drained of all energy.
“I can’t let that happen,” he said decidedly, “I’ll have to face the accusation and hope they believe me when I deny it.”
“Don’t be a fool – they won’t even let you speak in your own defence, they’ll just string you up. You have to run, now. Go to the barracks and ask for Captain Higgs.”
“But Taggart will hurt you and the children if I do that.”
“What else are we going to do? I’d beg you to kill the bastard for me, but then you’ll surely hang – and if I do it myself, who will care for my children when they hang me?”
He shuddered, “Don’t even think of murder, my dear,” he said gently, “It is not worth the risk. If I send you money when I get home, could you take the children and escape from him?”
“I can try,” she assured him, “Now go. Run if you can. I’ll pretend I was taken ill and couldn’t follow the plan. Once you are with the soldiers, I don’t think he will bother to try and pursue you. He’d be in too much trouble himself if he told lies about you – he just needs a bit of distance so that he can come to his senses.”
She thrust a filled leather water canteen into his hands, “Here, take this. Leave it with Captain Higgs at the barracks or he’ll accuse you of stealing it. Avoid the road in case he comes after you, but don’t, for God’s sake, get lost in the bush.”
To his certain knowledge, it was over ten miles to town, but Rutherford set off as soon as he had pressed her hand to his lips and thanked her fervently for her help.
Florrie watched him go with tears in her eyes. Then she went into the kitchen and drank salt and water until she began to wretch and vomit. Even Taggart couldn’t expect any man to rape a woman in that state, no matter how desperate he might be for female companionship.
*
Rutherford ran at first, but he soon slowed to a walk. In the heat of the noon he could not maintain the pace he had set himself. He followed the line of the dirt track that led into town, but heeding Florrie’s advice he kept to the undergrowth at the side. It was hard going and he was weary before he had even managed a mile, but he kept going, aware of every movement in the grass and scrub in case it should be a spider, snake or a dingo. The sun beat down on his head and he was grateful for his battered old hat, and the dirty handkerchief which he had draped over his neck to try and keep off the worst of the rays. Even the raucous calling of the multi-coloured birds had ceased as the sun reached its zenith, only the occasional cackle of a kookaburra convinced him that the feathered joker was laughing aloud at his misfortune.
He finished the water long before he reached civilisation and for a while he feared he was not going to make it, but just as he felt his strength give out, he saw the roofs ahead of him and he gathered his last remnants of courage and determination.
Luckily the captain was in his office and ordered water and food for the exhausted man as he staggered into his presence.
“I didn’t expect you so soon,” he said, inviting his tattered guest to take a chair, “I thought Taggart was going to stop you coming and I’d have to go back for you in the morning.”
Petch smiled grimly, “Oh, he tried to stop me, believe me and I expect him to arrive at any moment, full of accusations of theft and worse to try and get me back under his thumb.”
“You needn’t worry about that, my friend, I know Taggart of old. He won’t be listened to, no matter what fairy story he concocts about you, not now we have had this news from England.”
“What have they said?” asked Rutherford, slowly regaining his strength with plenty of clean water inside him and getting out of the unrelenting heat of the day.
“Read for yourself. You have a letter addressed to you as well as the official notification which went to the Governor.”
With a still shaky hand Rutherford took the folded paper and broke the seal. It was hard to believe that this had last been open thousands of miles away in the cold of an English winter.
“My dear Petch,
I send this in the hope that by the time you read it you will be a free man. I could not believe it when I wrote to Cressida and she told me of your misfortune. I only wish you had sent for me at the time of your trial – I blame myself entirely for not knowing that you needed my aid. I should have set my good friend Underwood on the case much sooner!
As it is, he has outdone himself and through all sorts of machinations has found the Greenhowe Diamonds for you – no one who knows you ever doubted that you had not stolen from your own family, but having the stones in their hands has forced the authorities to acknowledge the truth.
You are coming home, my friend, and I for one could not be more delighted. For God’s sake, do not, at this late date, do anything stupid enough to get you into any more trouble – Underwood sulked enough at being put on a stagecoach for a journey of fifty miles, he will definitely baulk at travelling twenty thousand miles by sea to save you again!
Until we meet again, your brother-in-arms,
JJ Thornycroft.”
Rutherford had tears in his eyes as he finished reading, but he managed to choke them back before raising his glance to Captain Higgs, “I can scarcely believe that it’s true. Am I really going home?”
“Barring any further incidents, you are to go on the next ship that leaves, which I understand will be in a couple of days, so if you have any errands, you had better look lively.”
Rutherford looked down at himself, “I could do with some different clothes,” he said wryly. He was still dressed in the hessian shirt and pants which was the universal uniform of the convicts – and his were particularly dirty and ragged due to the rough farm work he had been doing for the past months, “Unfortunately, I don’t have the wherewithal to buy anything.”
“That is all in hand. The Governor has ordered us to provide everything you need. I don’t think you realize how rare an occurrence this is, Captain Petch. Convicts almost never have a reprieve, though some do, of course, serve their time and chose to go home.”
“Not Captain Petch any longer, I’m afraid. I was court martialled when I was found guilty by the civil court.”
“I think you’ll find that will be rescinded when you get back to England – and I should think so too. This has been a shabby way to treat a hero of Waterloo, Petch, and I sincerely apologise for it,” said the captain, and he sounded as though he meant it. Rutherford stretched out his hand to shake the captain’s but a sudden disturbance outside the door made them both hesitate.
“Where the hell is Convict Petch?” They heard Taggart shouting across the parade ground, “I want him arrested and flogged for thieving from me!”
Captain Higgs gave a heavy sigh, “I should have kn
own he wouldn’t give in easily,” he said resignedly, “Perhaps when I explain that he is to be compensated for your removal from his employ will change his mind. In the meantime, I think it might be better if you don’t run into each other. You stay here while I go and talk some sense into him.”
Rutherford held out the now empty canteen, “I think this is what he’s shouting about,” he said, “Perhaps you could thank him for the loan of it on my behalf.”
Captain Higgs took the leather bottle and smiling went out of the door to calm the farmer down, promising himself that if the man continued with his tirade, he’d lock him in the cells for a few hours until he learned some manners.
Left alone Rutherford closed his eyes and allowed himself to believe, for the first time in months, that his nightmare really was over and he was about to sail away from Australia.
Oddly there was a pull at his heartstrings at the thought of leaving this strange, but beautiful country and there was a part of him that wanted to stay, to join those other hardy men and women who were trying to turn this wilderness into a homeland of which they could be justifiably proud.
There seemed to be so much more to do here.
And he wondered, rather bleakly, what promise England held for him now. He had felt lost when he left the army and returned to Pershore House, which was why he had tumbled into bad company and stupid scrapes in the first place. Would it be any different when he went back?
He had to be honest and admit that he wasn’t sure that he would be able to take the tedium of the life of a country gentleman – not now that he knew there was so much more of the world to explore.
*
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Yield Not To Misfortune (The Underwood Mysteries Book 5) Page 22