by Bonnie Leon
Daniel stared at the stage but was not unaware of the touch of Rebecca’s silk sleeve against his arm or her soft musical voice as she chatted with Mildred. He wanted to spend more time with her. For a brief moment he imagined what life would be like with more of her in it. He felt protective and tender toward the charming American.
Reality replaced his whimsy. He envisioned a hot, dusty, isolated cattle station. She didn’t fit. With regret he promised himself this evening would be their only outing. No reason to take the friendship further. It would only become a cruel association. With a glance her way, he told himself, She’s nothing more than another sheila. But even as the thought moved through his mind, he didn’t believe it.
Heavy curtains opened, revealing a full orchestra. They began the performance with the soft, haunting strings of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture.” Immediately Daniel was drawn from his fantasies and into the splendor and magnificence of the music, which swelled and then sped into an emotional and turbulent masterpiece.
The symphony moved on to Beethoven and Schubert; the theater resonated with the thrilling compositions of the masters. He thought of his mother and wished she could hear the beauty of Beethoven’s Fifth. Instruments echoed one another. Growing louder and more insistent, they fought for prominence.
When it was over he realized he’d forgotten everything except the music. With the last chord came disappointment. He wanted more. More to take home with him, more to share with his mum, more to carry him to heaven. Along with others in the theater, he spontaneously stood and clapped. He glanced at Rebecca and drew in her enthusiasm. Her cheeks held a blush, and her eyes glistened with tears.
“Wasn’t it wonderful!” she said in a hush, brushing away a tear.
“I imagine we’ll have orchestras in heaven, eh?”
Rebecca nodded.
“That was lovely,” Mildred said. “Simply spectacular.”
The applause died down; the spell was broken as people surged into the aisles. Daniel tucked his hat under one arm and offered the other to Rebecca. “My mum would have loved this. Wish we had music like it back home.”
“You don’t?” Rebecca asked.
“No. We’d have to travel to Brisbane or Sydney. We have bush music at the station.”
“What’s that?” Rebecca allowed him to steer her toward the exit.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Something the blacks do.”
“Blacks?”
“The blacks, aborigines. They have their own music they play on the didgeridoo. It’s made out of a hollowed-out log, and they blow into it. It has a deep, throaty sound that echoes across the open lands. It’s not an orchestra, but it’s right pretty.”
“Sounds interesting,” Rebecca said.
Daniel helped Mildred and Rebecca into the carriage, then took his place across from them. Strange custom, having an escort, he thought.
The carriage stopped in front of the Williamses’ mansion.
“I had a lovely evening,” Mildred said, stepping onto the porch. She waited at the door.
“It was lovely.” Rebecca glanced at her aunt, then asked Daniel, “Would you like to come in for tea and cake?”
Although he’d decided spending time with Rebecca would be ill-advised, Daniel heard himself say, “I’d like that.” You fool, he thought. You’re only asking for trouble.
He followed Rebecca inside.
The lights had been turned down, and a hush embraced the house. Daniel helped Rebecca with her cape, then quickly stepped back. The closeness was too much of an intoxicant. Turning away so Rebecca couldn’t see the flush in his cheeks, he draped the wrap on the hall tree.
Rebecca stripped off her gloves and, with a glance in the entrance mirror, tucked in a loose strand of hair. The dark curl found its way back to her bare shoulders. “My hair is such a bother,” she said with exasperation. “I’d love to have straight hair rather than all these curls.”
“Your hair’s perfect,” Daniel said. “And it’s not too curly. I’d say it’s more . . . wavy.” He wished he could touch the soft curls.
Mildred moved toward the kitchen.
“I can take care of our refreshments, Auntie.”
Mildred stopped and stared at her niece, then with a sigh said, “I suppose.” She took a step, then hesitated. “All right, then. I’ll just go on up to bed.” She settled serious, suspicious eyes on Daniel. “I won’t be far. If you need anything . . .”
“I’m sure we won’t,” Rebecca said. “We’ll be just fine. Good night.” She hurried to her aunt and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for accompanying us.”
“It was my pleasure. Good night, then.” Mildred turned, and with a rustle of stiff skirts, she walked up the staircase.
As soon as her aunt was out of sight, Rebecca giggled. “I think a twenty-two-year-old is old enough to chaperone herself, don’t you?”
“Too right,” Daniel said with a grin.
Rebecca headed for the kitchen. “Would you like tea or coffee?”
“A cuppa’s fine.”
Rebecca looked at him. “A cuppa?”
“Oh. Where I come from ‘cuppa’ usually means tea, sometimes coffee. With my mum it’s always tea.”
“Tea it is, then.”
“Right.”
Wearing a smile, Rebecca set about making tea.
Daniel took a chair at a small mahogany table in a kitchen alcove, where he enjoyed watching Rebecca.
She set tea and cake on the table and sat across from him. “I had a delightful time this evening. Thank you for taking me. I suppose my father told you I rarely go out.”
“He did mention it. I’m honored you allowed me to accompany you.” Daniel knew he was being bold but continued, “I’d say we’re a fine fit, eh?”
A worry line creased Rebecca’s forehead. “I doubt I truly fit with anyone.”
For more than an hour the two chatted, discovering they had many common interests, one of them being music, although this was a new attraction for Daniel. They also loved reading books and horseback riding.
Daniel admitted his favorite book was The Last of the Mohicans. “I guess I’ve still got a bit of the pioneer spirit in me.”
Rebecca rested her chin in her hand. “I’d like to be a pioneer, I think. I’m not sure I’d be very good at it though. I’ve lived a very comfortable life.” Her eyes traveled to the fine china resting in a mahogany cabinet in the dining room. “Of course, striving for a career is rather advanced thinking, almost like pioneering.”
“What is it you want to do?”
“I hope to be an attorney and work with my father.” She studied her tea. “I doubt it will happen.” She added with a sigh, “In this time and place there’s little room for women in any kind of business.” She sat straighter. “However, I intend to try. I’m not giving up.”
“I admire your spirit.”
Rebecca leaned an elbow on the table. “Tell me about your family.”
“There’s not much to tell.” Daniel’s family was a subject he would rather not discuss, not tonight anyway. “My brother’s gone, as you know. There were only the two of us, so my father’s counting on me to carry on. His family emigrated from England two generations back. My mum came over when she was twelve.” Wearing a soft smile, he continued, “She’s still got a lot of England in her. She tries to keep a bit of it with her. She’s even got a flower garden very like the one her mother had in England.”
Daniel tapped the edge of his cup with the tip of his finger. “Well, then, it’s getting late. I suppose I ought to be going.” He stood. It would be unwise to see Rebecca again, he told himself, then asked, “Would you like to picnic tomorrow?”
“I’d love to. What time should I expect you?”
“I’ll pop by ’round eleven o’clock?”
“Wonderful. I’ll pack a lunch.”
Daniel wanted to stay. “Tomorrow, then.”
3
A soft rap sounded at Rebecca’s door. “Yes, who is it?”
>
“Just me,” Flora, the housemaid, said.
“Come in.”
Her face flushed, Flora peeked inside the room. “Mr. Thornton’s here, ma’am,” she puffed, winded from climbing the stairs.
“I’ll be right down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Flora ducked out and quietly closed the door.
Rebecca moved to the mirror and tidied her hair, then pinned on her riding hat. She knew meeting with Daniel wasn’t a good idea. There was no future for them. I’m only making life more complicated for him, she told herself, remembering the admiration she’d seen in his blue eyes. She’d have to make her plans clear to him. There was no room for a man in her life, especially not someone from the other side of the world.
Spine straight and shoulders back, she left the room. Her hand barely touched the wooden banister as she gracefully glided down the staircase. Daniel stood in the foyer, his eyes watching her appreciatively.
“Good morning. How nice to see you again, Mr. Thornton.”
“G’day.” Daniel offered an uneasy smile.
He knows this venture will come to naught, Rebecca thought. “I hope you don’t mind, but I selected a horse for you.”
“Don’t mind at all. I trust your judgment.”
“I’ve packed a lunch, but I’ll have to get it from the kitchen.” Rebecca retreated, feeling somewhat disappointed that the casual familiarity of the previous evening seemed to have vanished. I ought to make my excuses.
Mildred sat in the breakfast nook, sipping tea. “So you’re off, then?”
“Yes. We shouldn’t be long.” Rebecca picked up a picnic basket.
“Be careful and have a nice time.” Mildred set her cup on its saucer with a whispered clink. “You really ought not to be traipsing about without a chaperone, you know.”
“There isn’t anyone to join us.” Rebecca’s smile held a challenge. “Unless, of course, you’d like to come along?”
“I’m far beyond my riding days,” Mildred said.
“Well, then I guess you’ll have to trust me.”
“I trust you.” Mildred eyed Rebecca. “I know you’re a proper young lady in spite of your high spirits.” Her eyes darted toward the front entrance. “It’s him,” she whispered. “We know almost nothing about him. He may be a wild thing. Who knows what kind of life he lives in Australia.”
Unable to keep the teasing lilt from her voice, Rebecca said, “What kind of life do you suppose?”
Mildred pursed her lips. With a sigh she said, “Never mind. Go along. I’ll be praying for you.”
“I’ll be fine,” Rebecca said, realizing her headstrong disposition had prevented her from taking advantage of a suitable justification to remain home. Then again she wasn’t certain she actually wanted to stay home. She rather enjoyed Daniel’s company.
Rebecca strode toward the stables, her riding crop whisking the skirt of her riding habit with each brisk swing of her arm.
Daniel walked alongside her, carrying the basket. His silence made Rebecca uneasy. During their first two meetings, he’d been talkative and friendly. Was something troubling him?
Jimmy met them at the stable door, horses in tow. “Good morning. I’ll take that,” he said, handing off a large black stallion to Daniel and reaching for the basket.
“G’day, lad.”
“Jimmy, can you please put the food in the saddlebags?” Rebecca asked.
“That’s what I figured, ma’am.”
Rebecca took Chavive and ran the palm of her hand over the horse’s velvety nose. Jimmy transferred the lunch into two bags, then swung them up behind the cantle of Daniel’s horse and secured them.
Daniel patted the animal’s neck. “He’s a beaut.”
“And a handful,” Jimmy added. “You gotta watch him.” He grinned. “Sure you can handle him?”
Rebecca settled a mischievous look on Daniel. “Is it going to be a problem for you?”
“’Ere, I’ve been riding since I was a lad. No worries.”
“His name’s Tomlin.”
“Interesting name.”
“He’s a twin,” Rebecca explained. “He was born last and was the smaller of the two. His name means ‘little twin.’”
Daniel took a step back and studied the animal, which stood a good seventeen hands. “If he’s the smaller of the two, I’d like to see his brother.”
Rebecca moved to Chavive’s side. “His brother’s just down the road. He’s a real beauty, but not as nice as our Tomlin.” Jimmy gave her a foot up, and Rebecca settled on the saddle, then tidied her skirts.
Daniel mounted, casually seating himself on the stallion’s back. Tomlin sidestepped and tossed his head. “’Ere, come on now,” Daniel said gently. The horse quieted but chewed on his bit. “The saddle feels a bit queer. Not like what we’ve got back home.”
“It’s a gentleman’s saddle, sir,” Jimmy said. “I can change it if you like. I think we have a western saddle. I just thought . . .”
“No, no. I’ll have a go with this one.”
Chavive pulled on the reins. “She’s ready. How about you?” Rebecca teased.
“Too right. You lead the way.”
Rebecca and Chavive moved toward the pasture. Rebecca felt more relaxed and knew Daniel did too. There was no reason they shouldn’t ride and enjoy the last warm days of summer.
“It’s a perfect day to be out.” Rebecca tipped her face up to catch the full warmth of the sun. Chavive pranced. “She wants to run,” Rebecca said with a laugh.
Daniel’s horse blasted air from his nostrils and tossed his head. “Shall we give them their way, then?”
Rebecca leaned forward and tapped Chavive’s flanks with her riding crop. Immediately the mare stepped into a gallop. Daniel’s horse strode out. Riders and horses tore across the open field and through the gate. Rebecca guided Chavive to the right and up a trail leading into the woods.
Daniel moved alongside. “He’s not happy trailing behind. He’s needing his head. I’m going to let him go. You mind?”
Rebecca laughed. “Absolutely not. Do as you wish.” She leaned over Chavive’s neck, and the horse charged ahead. “See if you can keep up,” she called, hearing only the creak of leather, the pounding of hooves, and the labored breath of the horses.
Tomlin quickly pulled alongside Chavive. Daniel’s expression was one of intense delight as he flew past, the stallion’s hooves flicking up bits of sod.
Rebecca kicked Chavive’s side and drove her on. She felt complete, free—elated! Her hat flew off, but she paid no heed even though her hair was quickly becoming a mass of dark tangles. All she knew was the power of the animal beneath her and a surging sense of liberation.
Breaking out of the trees, Daniel pulled up. His horse danced, huffing. “Which way?”
“Follow me,” Rebecca called, barely slowing as she sped past. Boldly they moved along a ridge. They tempted peril, driven by the appeal of danger and liberty.
Finally, reluctantly, Rebecca pulled hard on the reins at the top of an embankment. Her horse trembled and panted; her sides heaved. The smell of leather and horse was heady.
Daniel reined in Tomlin.
Stroking Chavive’s damp neck, Rebecca gazed at the lush valley with its farms, and then she turned her eyes to the distant bay reflecting a misty sky and smoldering sun. “This is it. My place.”
Daniel stared at the open land. “Quite beautiful.”
“I’ve been coming here since I was a girl.” Rebecca glanced at Daniel, pleased to see he was impressed. “We can rest here and have a bite to eat if you like.”
“I’m starved.” Daniel dismounted and moved to Rebecca’s side to lend her a hand down.
For a brief moment she was caught between Chavive and Daniel. His eyes sought out her thoughts. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but she quickly stepped free of the unintended embrace. “We can tie the horses here.” She led Chavive to a nearby tree and secured the reins to a low-hanging branch.
Daniel
tied Tomlin nearby. “I’ve missed riding.” He stroked the animal’s face, caressed his neck, then ran his hand across his flanks. A tremor moved through the animal. “Outstanding steed. Wouldn’t mind introducing him to some of the brumbies that come down from the hills. They’d produce spectacular foals.”
“Brumbies?”
“The wild horses that range in the district.”
Rebecca studied Tomlin. “My father would never let him go. I think he loves Tomlin as much as I do Chavive.”
“If he were mine I’d keep a steady hand on him too.”
Rebecca took a small quilt from a pack and spread it out over the wild grasses. “I hope you like chicken sandwiches.”
“I do.”
She sat gracefully, arranging her skirt about her.
Daniel hefted the saddlebags. “These feel right heavy. Got to be more than sandwiches in ’ere.”
“I made cheesecake and also brought along apples and lemonade.”
Daniel handed her the bags. “You cook?”
“A little. I enjoy it.” She removed the contents from the bags and set them out, then handed Daniel a sandwich, taking one for herself as well. Carefully she unwrapped two crystal glasses swathed in embroidered napkins. “Actually, I’m quite a good cook. My aunt taught me.” She filled the stemware with lemonade. Taking a sip, Rebecca gazed out over the rolling hills and farmland; then her eyes rested on a sailing ship gliding across the bay. “I always feel better when I’m here.”
“I’ve a private spot back home too. Wish you could see it.” His eyes lingered on Rebecca.
Unwilling to retreat from his gaze, she held his eyes. “I’d like to. Maybe one day I’ll visit your . . . station.”
“It’s settled, then, eh? You’ll be visiting.” Daniel grinned, and his dimple appeared.
Rebecca liked this Australian. “I love to travel,” she said nonchalantly. “It’s been a long while since my last trip, more than three years. My father and I visited London and Paris. We had a lovely time.”