by Darry Fraser
She pressed against the settee, thinking. How would she know what they were? There were too many unforeseen things in the future. She would not restrict herself by naming only the few which sprang to mind. ‘I would want to follow the things which take my interest, at any time. And to have your support.’
He hesitated only a second. ‘Of course.’
‘I would like to work for you, within your business in some capacity. I would require payment in exchange for my work. A weekly purse.’
‘An allowance from housekeeping. But that goes without saying.’ He smoothed the back of her hand.
She tried to remove it from his grip, but he pressed her. She let it rest, aware of the calluses on his palms. ‘Not an allowance, Conor. A wage.’
‘You want your husband to pay you a wage as if you were a common worker?’
‘For work undertaken in his business.’
‘And would this wage extend to your own purchases of fine gowns, and pretty shoes?’
She lifted an eyebrow. ‘That would depend on the negotiations.’
He barked a laugh. ‘My dear, I could use someone of your tenacity. I will explore the opportunities for such an employee.’
He was laughing at her, she knew. She kept going. ‘And I would need to be provided for should something happen to you. There are new laws allowing a woman to be protected by her husband’s will, should he—’
Conor’s eyes widened. ‘There are new laws, though somewhat untried.’
‘Nevertheless.’
‘You are bargaining with me.’
‘No. I mean to be protected in order to survive if the unthinkable were to happen.’ She tried to remove her hands from his grip again. ‘I am aware of too much misery for a woman if she cannot protect or support herself. However if you cannot see your way clear … ’
He looked at her. ‘If they are your conditions, I will have a new will drawn up to sign the day we are married—’
Georgie’s heart skipped. ‘They are not conditions, they are—’
‘—so let us be married as soon as possible—before Katie and Angus marry. I don’t want to wait any longer, wonderful, darling girl,’ he said and continued to massage her hands despite her discomfort. He planted a kiss on her mouth, the first he had ever given her.
And she recoiled a little.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, then pressed his face into her neck. His arm had slipped behind her back and his breath fanned her chest. ‘Within the week. I can get the licence. I know I can buy someone for that.’ He smiled. ‘We will marry in an office and then have a grand reception later when there is time to plan.’
It was now or never. She squeezed her eyes shut, put aside Dane MacHenry’s face as it popped into her head. ‘Yes.’
And when Conor lifted his head in surprise and saw her expression, he bellowed for the housemaid to bring a sleeping draught.
Seventeen
The two elegant ladies sat in the well-lit morning room, sipping tea from delicate china cups. A tray of dainty sandwiches, one bite each, was placed on a small table between the women, and linen napkins were draped over their laps.
Angeline Cawley dismissed the girl preparing to pour tea. ‘You don’t mind, my dear Kate, if we have a lovely chat without all the fuss? It’s been far too long.’
‘Actually, I long to put my feet up and simply drift away with the clouds,’ Kate said.
‘Delightful, dear, but a bit on the naughty side. In any case, I could hardly allow you to drift away without providing me with all the titbits of your brother’s wedding.’
Kate Hannaford laughed and poured tea for both of them. ‘All quite proper, Angeline, despite the hurried arrangements. It seems my dear brother has been chasing this girl for some time, unbeknownst to me until quite recently.’
‘I see,’ said Angeline, accepting the delicate cup and saucer. ‘Quite exciting. A wedding—and soon. Next month, isn’t it?’ she asked as she sipped. ‘We received our invitation last week.’
‘To the reception, yes, next month. I do hope you and John can attend. However, they are to be married in Mr Arthur’s office tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Angeline started, her tea cup rattling on the saucer.
Kate settled back into her chair. ‘It would appear neither wants to wait any longer.’
‘I see.’ Angeline paused. ‘I’m not sure at this stage if John will be able to accompany me, but I shall attend the reception with an escort if that is acceptable, my dear.’
‘Of course.’
‘I shall formally reply this afternoon.’ Angeline smiled at her friend. ‘But in the meantime, tell me all about the romance.’
Kate sipped, took a small sandwich then sat back. ‘It’s quite a romance at that. You know my brother spent years building up his business on and around the paddle-steamers, and I know him to be quite the shrewd businessman. Well, certainly as he tells it.’ She laughed a little. ‘And certainly by the look of it, more to the point. He has a number of companies and it was through one of these he met Georgina, the girl he’s about to marry.’ Kate popped the tiny sandwich into her mouth and chewed. ‘Apparently, she’s originally from Bendigo but returned to live for some time with her stepfather in England.’
Angeline sat forward to take a sandwich for herself. ‘And then somehow she’s been returned to Australia?’
‘Yes, to live on a homestead in the north of the state, of all places. Near some outback town on the river. Her stepfather has a married sister there, so she was sent back to live with that family.’
‘How interesting.’ Angeline knew it was no coincidence the name of the girl Kate’s brother was to marry and the name of the girl Dane was so artfully trying to forget were one and the same.
With little prompting, Kate talked about her sister-in-law to-be at length. That she liked the girl, Georgina, was obvious, but Angeline could hear uncertainty in her voice. ‘My dear, she is about to be married. What on earth could be amiss?’
‘It’s just a moment’s hesitation here and there. Sometimes I get the impression her heart is not with Conor at all.’ Kate refilled both tea cups. ‘She’s really quite lovely, very bright, but there’s something missing, like—like … ’
‘Like love?’ Angeline prompted.
‘Well, yes. I think that’s it. Not that love is everything, of course,’ she qualified and lifted her eyes to the heavens, ‘but I see trouble looming.’
‘Perhaps love will grow.’ Angeline sipped her tea and reached for a bite to eat. ‘Or perhaps she loves another, or thinks she does.’
‘Perhaps. Who knows? But whatever her feelings, she consented so I suppose she must have finally come to terms. And of course, there is her youth to consider.’
‘But she is over twenty-one, I believe? All young women should be well married by that age,’ Angeline said.
‘Perhaps I should have said “her innocence”, then.’
‘Tell me more.’ Angeline leaned back, her cup and saucer in her hands.
‘You are very interested, Angeline,’ Kate commented, smiling.
‘Oh yes, weddings always interest me.’ Angeline eased further back in her chair. Especially this one.
Kate smiled. ‘Me, too. And this marriage will have my brother on his toes for once. Georgina seems somewhat headstrong.’
‘Not such a bad thing if she plans her battles.’
Kate agreed with an incline of her head. ‘True. She is certainly smart enough. She is well read, pores over the newspapers, and mentions with monotonous regularity the new laws regarding—of all things—married women’s property rights. And the suffrage, of course.’ Kate picked up a little sandwich and took a bite. ‘There’s not really much more I can tell you of her upbringing, except to say her stepfather is quite wealthy, landed gentry apparently, back in the home country.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘I wished we could have introduced her long before now, and had some more time to learn about her. Never mind, we will simply have
to rely on our friends to accept her at the reception.’
Angeline’s thought wandered a moment. According to Kate, the girl was perhaps preoccupied with someone. She shook her head.
‘Is something wrong, Angeline?’ Kate asked.
‘Oh, my thoughts drifted. I was thinking of the difficulties society sometimes places on our young people. Do go on, I’m quite intrigued.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is intriguing. Though my brother is quite unaware she is distracted.’ Kate reached for another little sandwich. ‘The poor man is totally enamoured with her.’
‘Is that so? And are you quite sure you like her, my dear?’
‘Oh, yes, yes.’ Kate waved away Angeline’s comment. ‘But I am worried about their life together. I shouldn’t, I know. Conor is much older and quite used to handling his own affairs. There does however seem to be a story to her.’
‘Do tell.’
‘From what little I’ve been able to drag from Conor,’ Kate began, ‘it seems she was actually a runaway at some stage. Thrilling, really, but not the done thing. I can tell she has some steel in her, but what he told me is really very unusual. Apparently, she quarrelled with the son of the homesteader on the Murray and left the home, dressed in boys’ clothes, stole a horse and some of the son’s possessions and made for the hills, so to speak.’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘Really?’ Angeline smiled. Definitely one and the same girl.
Mrs John Cawley sat alone in her morning room, deciding what she would do. It was true her husband would not be able to attend the reception. He had business in the Western Districts, something to do with a whisky still, he’d told her. He would be away from home for several days.
She knew she would not go to the event alone. She would ask Dane to escort her to the reception. Very simple.
She also knew she was playing with fire. It would hurt Dane. It could make a mockery of the girl’s marriage. It could embarrass Kate and Angus. She pursed her lips as she thought about the ramifications.
Angeline wondered again about her handsome foster son’s childhood and about the parents she had never met. She wondered that, in all the years she had known Dane, there had never been a hint of romance, or dallying. Not that she had expected to learn of the latter, she chided herself, but of romance, she was sure she would have known. And now, with the merest hint from him of his feelings for this young woman he’d known only a couple of months, her motherly instincts sharpened.
There was something about this girl that set him afire; she could see the emotion smouldering beneath that cool facade Dane tried to hide behind. It didn’t fool her for an instant.
Yet he’d let the girl slip through his fingers. He’d probably never in his life come up against something he couldn’t have, something that defied him completely. This girl had caught him hard, and it seemed the emotions were as bewildering to her as they were to Dane.
Her heart ached. There was nothing Dane could do to make this girl his own. She was to be married in a lawyer’s office tomorrow. Angeline scoffed at herself. It was one thing to glean information from one’s friend, but quite another to burden oneself with the problems in another’s life.
Even if Dane was like a son to her, it was none of her business. But what a dreadful problem for him, and what a terrible start to a marriage for the girl. Angeline felt for Dane, this powerful young man whose zest for life and uncanny knack for survival had carried him through some very dangerous times. Should she ask him to escort her to the reception—or would it be inflicting too much pain on him?
She stood up and hurried to the window, her thoughts tumbling over.
Perhaps if he were to attend the reception, his pain might lessen quickly, knowing she was wed. He would be able to get on with his own life and leave the past behind.
She shivered a little. What a delicious story, even if it meant people were hurting. It was high romance, and high excitement.
Perhaps I’m just trying to meddle, she chided herself again.
Perhaps she would leave the decision to him. She would tell him of the invitation, tell him she didn’t have an escort and leave the rest up to him.
Eighteen
The morning of the wedding, Kate came to Georgie’s room especially to bring her something that had belonged to Conor and Kate’s mother. The pearl drop, on a single delicate chain of gold, gleamed dully against Georgie’s skin. When Kate clasped it around Georgie’s neck, the heavy bead fell between her breasts.
Kate gave her a quick hug. ‘Conor will recognise it, too.’
‘Thank you, it’s lovely.’ Georgie touched the pearl and glanced at her reflection. Her wedding dress fitted like a glove and she wondered fleetingly if that were acceptable. She smoothed the fabric over her hips. As she moved, the pearl caught her attention. It gleamed in the light of mid-morning. A gift from a mother …
Her own mother should be here today, but she’d died long ago. Georgie barely remembered her, but often wished for her presence. Or at least Jemimah, the only woman she’d ever known as a mother figure, should be here.
On her wedding day …
Georgie glanced at Kate, an unguarded flicker.
‘Oh, Georgie, Georgie, Georgie. Do cheer up, dear—one would think you felt dreadfully unhappy. This is such a happy day. Listen to Conor booming downstairs, frightening the staff.’
Georgie smiled brightly, or hoped she had.
Kate’s face broke into a quick smile too. ‘No more jitters?’
Georgie shook her head firmly. ‘I’m just a little bit overwhelmed. I’m glad there’s only a few witnesses today, and it has come awfully quick. And then I’m not sure of the dress … Why am I wearing this to an office ceremony?’
Kate straightened the gown. ‘Whatever can you mean? It’s beautiful. Just beautiful. It is your wedding day and you should wear what you wish.’ She took Georgie’s shoulders and spun her around gently, appraising every angle.
‘It seems daring for a registry wedding, it’s not the fashion. Queen Victoria would disapprove.’ Georgie tried to make light of the weight in her chest.
‘Queen Victoria.’ Kate repeated. ‘I’m sure she’s a wonderful woman, but she’s not my queen, nor Conor’s, and her own dress sense leaves a lot to be desired.’ Kate turned Georgie again and adjusted a seam over her hip. ‘Besides, Her Majesty will not be attending. I will send Deborah up to do your hair.’ She squeezed Georgie’s shoulders and left.
The dress, made of fine silk, had cost Conor a small fortune. Lace overlays and tight sleeves added to the richness of the underlying fabric. The dress hugged Georgie’s hips and it was a good thing for modesty that Kate had purchased a specially fitted undergarment for her to wear because Georgie had asserted she would not wear cotton bloomers on her wedding day.
Georgie’s ample bust was well and truly shown off and she fleetingly wondered if she looked the opposite of a virginal bride. Her chest seemed ready to pop out of the dress. Perhaps her living in the country for those years had kept her behind the times, because Kate thought the dress quite proper and hers was the only opinion Georgie had to go on. Kate certainly knew more about these affairs than she did. She kept saying Conor would like this or that and it brought home to Georgie the enormity of the commitment she was about to undertake. She was filled with a certain dread.
Had I not wanted it—and with all my heart? Had I not prayed aloud he would marry me and I would live happily ever after? And now I have what I wanted.
Even on the dawn of her wedding day she found it hard to reconcile. There was no thrill at Conor’s touch, no flutters of anticipation in her belly of his arrival, no longing thoughts of seeing him, not like there had been with Dane. She wondered if she did indeed love Dane MacHenry, for she knew now she didn’t love Conor Foley.
Perhaps it would come … she would just have to make the best of it. She had laid this path.
And, she reasoned, by marrying Conor Foley she was securing her future. She could begin her new life with
the confidence that she would never want for anything again. Conor had spoken of changing his will, so she would be protected should anything untoward happen. As soon as the wedding ceremony was over, Conor would sign his new will in Mr Arthur’s offices, with Angus Forrestor as his witness.
Her stepfather Rupert had sent his love and congratulatory wishes. She wondered if he had breathed a quiet sigh of relief upon hearing of her marriage. He had expressed his great shock about Tom MacHenry but only mentioned he would contact Jemimah and offer her assistance.
They would visit Papa Rupert as soon as Conor could organise his affairs to allow for the long trip to England. But that would be after the reception, in a month or so’s time. She remembered wistfully that she’d hoped her papa would walk her to her new husband, but that was not to be.
Deborah, a long-time and trusted downstairs employee of Conor’s, had been assigned to Georgie to help her dress. Now with only her hair to fix, Deborah chatted as she approached her task.
‘We will fashion your hair up,’ she said as she gathered Georgie’s heavy plait and loosened it. She used both hands to caress the dark mass as it fell free across Georgie’s shoulders.
For some reason the statement made Georgie remember Ruth from Jacaranda and she pulled her head away. But Deborah gently guided her back to keep working with the thick and unruly hair. Georgie eyed her reflection again. The image staring back was pensive. ‘Perhaps he will think me beautiful.’
‘But you are truly beautiful, miss, has not Mr Conor said so?’ Deborah paused her brushing. ‘Just watch him, miss, Mr Conor will hardly be able to wait to show you off to all his friends.’
But it was not of Conor Foley that Georgina was thinking.
She drifted to when she was sitting in that old room of hers, fighting with Ruth for the hairbrush. She wanted to lash out at something but when Deborah gently and firmly smoothed the scowl from her brow, she resigned herself to the inevitable again. However, the unsettled feeling didn’t leave, a heat building inside her.
Deborah stood back to admire her work. At the back, she’d wound the black, shimmering locks into thick braids and held them loosely at the back with pins. She’d used another section swept back from Georgie’s forehead to create soft, voluminous waves piled high. ‘It’s the newest fashion, miss.’