by Darry Fraser
Get on with it, man. There’s nothing you can do about the woman. Just get on with it.
A plan took shape. Reuben Cawley and his family. If they would extend him a loan—
A statuesque woman burst into his room, frightening the life out of him. ‘Jesus!’ Rum splashed into the bath water.
‘Dane! Darling!’
He twisted in the bath and saw gloved arms flung wide in greeting and a smile on the cleverly made up face of Rebecca Middleton. She bent towards him, her low-cut gown hiding very little of the ample, wobbling bosom.
He slammed his glass down on the little stool beside the bath. Fuck’s sake, was nothing sacred from this woman? ‘Hello, Rebecca.’
‘Hello? Is that all? No jumping up ardently to meet me and carry me off to bed?’ She stood at the edge of the tub.
He sighed. ‘I’m in my bath.’
‘Never stopped you before, Dane MacHenry. Come on, over here.’ She sailed past the tub and sat on his huge bed.
‘Do you think you could shut the door, Rebecca?’
‘My, my.’ She pouted as she returned and slammed the door. ‘Not in good humour after your little holiday, are you?’
‘No, I’m not. If you insist on being here, rub my shoulders, would you?’
‘Of course, my darling man.’ She knelt behind the bath, stripped off her gloves and threw them into the water. Leaning over him to lick a kiss on his mouth, she kneaded his shoulders. He fished the gloves from the water, squeezed them and dropped them on the floor. He took his glass once again and sipped.
She nuzzled his neck, nipped his earlobes, whispered, ‘I hope that lovely cock of yours is ready for me.’
He splashed an imaginary bug from the water.
She traced a fingernail down his chest, over his nipples and belly to disappear under the surface, following the wiry black trail of hair.
‘Oh, Dane. You have missed me. We are standing to attention so very powerfully under the water.’ Her hand gave a couple of smooth strokes as she watched his face.
After a quick little grasp of his balls, she let him go and moved into his line of sight, lifting her skirts and untying her knickers. She pushed them to the floor. She unbuttoned her skirts and they fell away.
The bath water moved a little.
He watched her, the rum dangling in his hand over the side of the bath.
Then, only in her corset, her full breasts straining against the underclothing, Rebecca peeled her stockings away. She turned her back on him, bending over to remove her feet from the silken hose.
He leapt out of the bath, a great wave of soapy water following him. She laughed delightedly as they crashed onto his bed, the remainder of her clothing strewn about their bodies, entangling them.
She was a big strong woman, a hearty lover. He entered her hard. She scratched at him, pulled his hair, sucked at his neck, pushed him up so he could see her large breasts spilled out of the corsetry, swinging and driving him mad, all the while urging him deeper and harder into her.
She pushed him out of her and crawled under his body to pleasure him, and he greedily fell on her open legs and moist sex. She reached her peak quickly, wildly and he wasted no time. He drew her back, sliding her up the bed and drove into her, pounding, and she cried out, a delighted gasp as he ground inside her.
Then, his fingers digging into her flesh as he gripped her, he gave one violent shudder and collapsed on her ample breasts. He breathed deeply for a minute, the last of him pulsing into her before he slid away and onto his back, eyes closed.
She barely waited the moment to catch a breath. ‘Oh dear. A decided lack of stamina, Dane.’
He only lifted a brow.
She plucked gently at the dark hair on his belly, and swirled her finger lower. ‘You’ve never come to me like that before.’ She raised herself up on one elbow. ‘Perhaps you missed me.’
‘Of course.’
She pushed off the bed. ‘Not even an enthusiastic lie. It’s only gentlemanly.’ She picked her clothes up from the floor.
He, too, left the bed and went back to his bath. ‘On the way out, let Jamieson know I need more hot water, would you?’ He climbed into the tub, refilled his glass of rum, closed his eyes and sank as far as he could.
‘I’ll come back when milord feels more like my company.’
He opened one eye and looked at her. Her tall body was proud and still firm even though she was a few years older than him. ‘I’ve told you time and again, Rebecca. We have an understanding, nothing more.’
Hands firmly on her bare hips, she stood facing him. ‘You have some scheming little bitch to service, have you? Well, I’ll just wait here until she arrives and we’ll see who stays and who goes.’
‘You’ll be waiting a while,’ he muttered, pulling his ear.
‘Or is it perhaps your tastes have reversed and you wait for a boy? Is that why you didn’t last diddly—’
Dane sat bolt upright in his bath. ‘Jamieson!’ he roared. ‘Jamieson!’
Jamieson hurried into the room. He stopped dead and stared goggle-eyed at the statuesque, nude and shaking Rebecca.
‘Get her out of here—and don’t let her back again,’ Dane ordered.
It was a sight to see skinny, brown-faced and wizened Jamieson scuttling Rebecca, a naked Amazon, out of the room, her bottom wobbling and her shrill protests echoing down the hallway.
It should have been funny.
He heard loud slamming of doors and suspected Jamieson had shoved her into a room to dress.
He slumped back in the water. ‘A boy, for Christ’s sakes,’ he said through his teeth. Not a boy—a girl in boys’ clothing.
After his bath, he slept well into the afternoon, awaking to Jamieson’s knock, telling him the evening meal was ready in the bar below. Dane dressed and left his room, noticing the bath had been removed. He had clearly slept heavily.
‘My, my, old fellow, you do look well rested.’ Reuben Cawley surprised him at his table. They shook hands as friends, and embraced as family. ‘Good to see you.’ He sat down. ‘Thought you could do with a few of these to catch up on things.’ Reuben dumped a number of copies of The Bulletin on the table in front of him.
‘Reub, you are a sight for sore eyes. I’ll need to catch up, that’s certain, but for now … ’ A meal of mutton and vegetables in gravy was delivered, served up in bowls for them, hot and steaming and fragrant.
He had a good deal to tell his friend, much to discuss, a few urgent problems to solve, but now, first, they would eat.
Dane didn’t wait too long. He ran through the last few months’ turmoil as quickly as he could between mouthfuls; the discovery of Jacaranda’s demise, its loss to Foley, his father’s duplicity …
Reuben picked up his spoon to scrape the bowl. ‘There seems to be something else. What’s all this leading to?’ His dark gaze was fixed on Dane’s face.
‘I’m unsettled by it. Not happy that I let it go on for so long. I want to go back home to Victoria.’ Dane’s statement was flat.
Reuben showed his surprise. ‘Whatever for? You said yourself Jacaranda has gone. Why on earth would you want to go back there? What about here?’ He waved his hands around, gesturing to the filled tables and the noisy bar area.
Dane forked the last of the stew into his mouth, chewed and swallowed before answering. ‘There was only another year in it for me, you knew that. A hotel in Echuca caught my eye, I was fairly taken with it. Thought I could offer its owner good money, perhaps relocate.’
‘I’m bewildered. What on earth brought this on? You never do anything in business without great caution.’ He spread his hands, palms up. ‘Is that all? You want to be closer to your family?’
Dane shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but that’s not the only reason.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I need to exact a revenge, Reub.’ He wiped his mouth with a cloth, and pushed his plate away.
Reuben stared at him. ‘Not worth the effort, mate,’ he stated flatly. ‘We both know that. Is it this f
ellow who got Jacaranda?’
Dane nodded.
‘Why bother? It’s your old home, yes, but find your parents a new home. Obviously your father’s lost interest in it.’
Dane nodded. ‘It’s only the thing I’ve worked all my life for,’ he said. ‘I just need to do something to give the thieving bastard something to come up against. Somebody who can deal straight with him. He just walked away with the homestead, Reub. Just walked away without so much as a kick in the arse.’
‘You’re out to ruin him.’ Reuben narrowed his eyes and finished off the last of his meal, then took a slurp of rum.
Dane snorted. ‘I’d need a lot more free money than I have to do that.’
‘Do we need to talk of finances now?’
‘I thought I would ask the company for another loan and buy the hotel—The Pastoral—but on second thoughts, I can perhaps cover it with notes over this place … if your father approved, of course.’ He pushed his chair away from the table and stretched out his legs.
Reuben shrugged. ‘There isn’t much my father won’t approve of where you’re concerned. This business is showing very handsome growth and profits. It would even make sense to expand. And,’ Reuben leaned forward, ‘speaking of my parents, my dear mother has written to me.’
‘Is that so?’
‘About you in Melbourne. It seems perhaps you have not told your oldest and dearest friend everything.’ Reuben’s eye glinted as he lifted his rum. ‘And perhaps that’s why poor old Rebecca got her marching orders this afternoon.’
Dane snorted again. Word travelled fast. His behaviour towards Rebecca had not been kind, and he regretted it. It didn’t alter things. He’d found what he wanted and though it was beyond his grasp, a substitute was not going to do.
Reuben ignored the derision. ‘Looks like this little Melbourne lady has you badly, old boy, by the bollocks. And a real beauty, according to Mother.’
‘Not for discussion.’
His friend once again showed surprise. ‘You should try. It’s not like you to suffer in silence.’
The jibe brought a wry smile to Dane’s face, but also a shake of his head.
Reuben leaned over the table. ‘She’s married now. And she married this fellow with the cards, is that right?’
Dane nodded.
‘Then forget her and get on with it. Leave them to Jacaranda.’
Dane inhaled deeply. ‘I cannot.’ He didn’t want to talk about it, even to Reuben. But he knew that wasn’t going to stop his friend.
‘Better yet, you could always be totally dishonourable and chase the lady outright. That way, you could exact your horrible revenge doubly.’
‘If that’s your solution, it’s pathetic.’ Dane’s heart dipped. Nothing would get Georgina back.
Reuben tapped his fingers on the table. ‘Perhaps we should go into direct competition with this fellow on the river and run freight and passengers, just like he does. That would surely plant you back in the scene. Tell me,’ he said, warming to his theory, ‘what sort of money is in this paddleboat stuff?’
He told Reuben his story, his early days on the river, and what the trade had become.
‘Interesting. Think of it, Dane. A company of steamships in direct competition with your man. I like it. I really like it. I like the idea that we could create absolute havoc for the bastard.’
‘You’re serious.’
‘Of course!’ Reuben cried. ‘Think, man. Let’s look at the administration of it in the morning and I’ll wire my father and have him look further into the situation. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t mind being back in Melbourne myself, although Amelia—’
‘Reub, forgive me.’ Dane tapped his forehead. ‘I haven’t asked about your wife and your children.’
‘All’s well.’ Reuben waved his hand, dismissing Dane’s oversight. ‘I’ll telegraph Papa tomorrow morning.’ He yawned. ‘Look, I promised Am I’d be home before dawn even though you have just arrived back. I’ll head off now and see you tomorrow. Say ten in the morn?’
The next day they ate a late breakfast in Dane’s rooms to discuss their next business ventures.
Reuben told Dane his father had replied by telegraph ahead of their ten o’clock appointment. ‘John is not overly enthused about the paddle-steamers,’ he stated, and Dane raised an eyebrow. ‘Says the railway to Swan Hill’s nearly finished and that will undo carrying freight as we know it. He’s also begun pressing us to sell this place. Says we need to realise cash and buy land. The coming depression, apparently. And the poor publican in Echuca might not even want to sell, Dane.’ He dumped a sheaf of papers on the side table. ‘Besides, buying the hotel won’t get you on the river much. If you must, research the paddle-steamers—see where the market lies.’ He tapped the table with a forefinger. ‘Let the river answer, boyo. We can always ditch a boat quickly if we have to. Wait until John mails me the information we’ve asked for. I might tell you, too, that Amelia has agreed to go back to Melbourne for a season or two—sort of a compromise, I suppose—so I can be in the thick of it as well.’
‘Who looks after this place?’ Dane swilled a mug of hot tea, and bit into a thick slice of bread and beef.
‘Jamieson, of course.’
Dane agreed it could be done. Jamieson was up to it, trained thoroughly by him and Reuben. ‘Will he do it, though?’
Reuben nodded. ‘Champing at the bit. He almost said as much to me some time back, hoping we weren’t going to sell the place.’
‘We still might if John has his way.’ Dane rubbed his forehead. ‘I’m not getting my hopes up, Reub. I’m more clear-headed than I was last night.’
‘MacHenry, it’s not like you to get cold feet.’
‘I’ve been on a slippery slope for three or four months now. Cold or otherwise, I just want my feet to touch solid ground again.’
Reuben nodded. ‘Your family’s life has certainly been turned upside-down. Even I can see how your girl’s marriage to this Foley fellow has knocked you.’ He reached over and thumped Dane on the shoulder. ‘Easy as it goes, my friend. You know we Cawleys won’t let you make a wrong turn. Should have gone off with you into the sunset four months ago, but you were gone so fast, I didn’t have time to pack.’
‘Yes, easy as it goes.’ Dane’s spirits lifted. ‘Would you really have come with me?’
Reuben gave him a grin and shook his head. ‘Amelia would’ve skinned my balls and showcased them on the mantelpiece. Now let me tell you of the plans I’ve made for the Captain’s Cabin. Even if John says we have to sell, we have to have something decent to attract a buyer.’
Dane distanced himself from attachment, but not from a discreet dalliance here and there. He thought himself extremely lucky no angry father or brother had come knocking his door down.
None of it was enough.
‘Dane, Dane, Dane,’ Reuben grumbled over lunch at the Cabin. ‘I see a change in you. You’ve mellowed, you’re not forever chasing skirts as you have in the past.’ He cut a lump of mutton and stabbed it with his fork. ‘You’re milder. More tolerant. Amelia says you’ve a warmer side emerging. I’m surprised by it. Worried, in fact.’
Dane shrugged. ‘Perhaps I’m just tired.’
Reuben scoffed. ‘My wife thinks it’s the brooding. She is sure you’ll eventually catch up with this young woman of yours, and things will be resolved one way or the other.’ Reuben laughed at Dane’s expression. ‘Though it’s totally scandalous, old friend, I don’t disagree with her.’
‘Impossible.’ Dane scowled at his own plate of mutton stew, then pushed it away. ‘Now where’s this packet of papers from John?’
Reuben reached under the table and dragged up a leather satchel. John Cawley had mailed extensive written material for them to pore over, figures and graphs and river fluctuations over the last ten years. Enclosed were sketches and photographs of riverboats from the dirtiest-looking tubs to the grandest paddle-steamers, from freight vessels to passenger boats, including one or two sk
etches of Conor Foley’s most prized vessels. Dane traced each detail of his adversary’s boats, and studied every piece of information he could find on the industry. How else would he compete with Foley?
John had advised strongly it would not be a good time to invest in the river trade for freight. Wait until prices had plummeted, he advocated. It wouldn’t be long and they’d pick up boats for next to nothing.
Dane wondered if buying anything at all now was wise. Another economic depression was underway; the river was crowded and highly competitive; railways were cutting time and costs and though completion of the line from Ballarat to Swan Hill was a little way off, it bode poorly for the industry. He understood John’s advice.
But he’d seen a beautiful vessel for sale in one of the missives John had sent. She sat idle at Echuca, her previous owner having lost her to the banks. Sale after sale had fallen through.
Dane sent a telegram to John. The vessel was much reduced, within his means. He’d outfit her for passengers, not freight …
John reluctantly agreed.
The boat would go a long way to soothing him. His ache for Jacaranda, however, would not leave, and his thoughts of Georgina were constant.
Twenty-One
After their reception, Conor’s first trip away immediately gave Georgie the distance she needed and the time to steel herself, to prepare.
She’d carefully craft questions he would not be able to avoid answering. She would confront him about Jacaranda.
But upon his return a week later, he announced he would only have a few days before he’d be leaving again. She would have to act swiftly. Now.
He was in his bedchamber, overseeing the packing. Clothes were folded and satchels of papers were stacked about the room. Manning, his man, nodded at Georgie as she entered, then took his leave.
Conor glanced in her direction. ‘What is it, my love?’
‘You now seem to have no time, once again, to advise me of the extent of your business. To start to apprentice me.’ She stood with her hands on the back of a leather chair, her fingers clutching the firm padding.