The Currency Lass

by Téa Cooper

  A thrill trickled through her at the memory of Sergey astride Tsar rearing on his back legs, balanced like a statute above the crowd. She let out a long slow breath and kicked at the water. How she’d love to learn more of the tricks Sergey and Valentina performed.

  ‘Would you do something for me?’

  Her head shot up. ‘I beg your pardon. I was miles away.’

  ‘It’s asking a lot, particularly after you’ve been so kind allowing us to use your land.’

  ‘Asking what?’

  He sprang up, his body suddenly alive with energy once again. ‘Would you help the girls?’

  ‘Help them?’

  ‘Yes. Teach them. If, as you say, they are scared then perhaps a woman’s touch …’ His eyes widened and the hint of a smile lifted the corner of his lips. How could she refuse him?

  ‘I’m no expert.’ Not compared to him, or Rudi. Surely one of them would be the better teacher, or even Archie. ‘It’s just because I have ridden for so long. It’s like second nature, no different from walking.’

  ‘Now you sound like Rudi. He taught both Valentina and me to ride.’ He gave a frustrated kick and sent a cascade of water in her direction. It landed on her shirt making damp splotches. ‘Perhaps you have Cossack blood, like Rudi. Do you?’ Sergey asked. ‘A Cossack child is taught to ride from birth. By three years old he’s competent. Our life with the circus isn’t so different from Rudi’s ancestors, specific customs, rules and traditions based on simplicity.’

  Apart from the fact she’d been taught to ride so early, there was nothing about her life that resembled that of the Cossacks. Certainly not the simplicity part. ‘I can’t teach Minnie and May to ride. I know nothing of your skills and tricks.’

  ‘But you can teach the girls the most important thing they need before they can succeed. Confidence.’

  ‘Confidence?’ Minnie and May had bucket loads, more confidence than she had. She, who right at this very moment was concerned she’d offended Rudi, and worse Sergey. She, who didn’t dare front Bartholomew and call him to task about this ridiculous marriage.

  ‘You’re the most confident woman I have ever met. Brave and determined too. Look what you did for your father. How many women would take matters into their own hands and succeed?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have succeeded if you hadn’t happened along the road.’

  ‘Then it was a lucky day for both of us.’ He held out his hand and pulled her close. For a moment or two they stood hands clasped, fingers intertwined. A slow prickling sensation danced up her spine until the hairs on the back of her neck lifted. She pulled her hands free.

  ‘So will you do it?’

  Do what? Throw Bartholomew aside and claim what was rightfully hers or be brow beaten into submission. ‘What would you have me do?’

  ‘Work with the girls. Help them with their confidence and then we’ll introduce a few simple routines to keep the audience amused until Valentina arrives.’

  It would be churlish to refuse, especially after the help he’d given her. ‘Yes I will.’

  ‘You’ll come every day.’ Excitement danced in his eyes, making him look boyish and full of enthusiasm. A Sergey she’d never glimpsed.

  ‘I can come every day for an hour or two, I have other matters to attend to.’ The property. The house. The account ledgers. Bartholomew. Somehow she had to make a decision.

  ‘In that case we’ve no time to waste. He grabbed her hand again and dragged her back to the horses. ‘Up you go. It’s important for you to understand what I’ll be requiring of the girls.’

  She settled onto the horse’s back as he leapt astride and danced Tsar sideways across the grassy plain. ‘Now you try.’

  She didn’t know how to tell the horse to do this. She sat there like a stodgy lump.

  He rode back to where she was sitting. ‘Just line him up. He’ll come when I call. Relax.’

  She brought her horse’s head around and Sergey let out a short whistle. Tsar moved once again, side stepping with the delicacy of a waltzing debutante.

  With a tiny shift of her weight the horse lifted his feet and followed Sergey. The bubble of excitement returned. Oh, she wanted to do all of those tricks! Most especially the one where Sergey walked his horse on its hind legs then brought it to a statuesque standstill.

  ‘Now we will pirouette. Hup!’ The horse picked up his feet and pranced in circles around and around until Catherine was light headed and giddy.

  Trick after trick until her mind swirled and her body ached. She had done nothing except follow where Sergey and Tsar led.

  ‘That’s enough for one day. You’re a natural.’

  And it had felt natural, as though she’d waited all her life for just this moment. ‘It’s time I left. I must go and find Timmy; he’s looking after Bessie. Archie and Mrs Duffen will be wondering where I am.’

  ‘Would you like me to escort you?’

  As much as she’d like to spend more time with this man, this fascinating man, she had to go home and face her demons. ‘No, that’s not necessary. I’ve ridden the property for so long I know every twist and turn.’

  He raised her hand and dropped a kiss onto the back of her fingers. ‘You’ll come again tomorrow?’

  She nodded and rode up to the enclosure where Timmy stood waiting. She slid down, her muscles screaming, and mounted Bessie, settling into the familiar security of her saddle. A long soak in a warm bath was in order tonight.

  ‘Until tomorrow.’ Sergey reached up and took her hand, squeezed it in a lingering caress that set her heart thudding in the oddest way. ‘If ever you change your mind and would like to become a circus rider just let me know.’

  With a laugh she rode away into the lengthening afternoon shadows. That was the stuff of dreams.

  ‘Well, look at you. That’s more like it.’ Archie took Bessie’s reins and led her into the stables. ‘Nice bit of fresh air and exercise has brought the bloom back to your cheeks.’

  Catherine schooled her expression. The fresh air had certainly cleared some of the cobwebs from her mind, however she doubted the flush on her face had much to do with the air. More the waves of euphoria flooding her body since she’d left the circus camp. Not since she left, from the moment she’d mounted the circus horse in the ring. The prospect of going back tomorrow and the next day filled her with a dizzying excitement. The only cloud hovering on the horizon was the knowledge that the circus would soon be leaving. She wouldn’t think of that right now. She’d simply enjoy what the next few days offered.

  ‘Mrs Duffen’s looking for you. Said you missed your dinner and she’s worrying that you’re not eating. Doesn’t look as though it’s doing you much harm, though.’ He threw her a wink, which reignited the colour in her face.

  With a skip she bolted through the archway and into the courtyard before Archie could examine her any further. That was the trouble, Archie’d known her all her life and he could read her like a book. He’d always been good at that. Said if he could read a horse, reading a man or a woman was easy.

  She stopped in her tracks. The image of Sergey’s brooding face changing to a radiant smile filled her vision. Had he read her and had she played right into his hands? If you change your mind and would like to become a circus rider just let me know.

  She couldn’t even dream about it, and she had too much to do if she wanted to return to the camp tomorrow. She’d told De Silva she’d go over the accounts and make a decision. The ride had cleared her mind, now maybe she’d attack the ledgers and find a way to keep Cottington without marrying Bartholomew. No matter what Pa thought he wanted, it would be a betrayal to hand everything over and move to Sydney. ‘I’m back, Mrs Duffen. I’ll be in Pa’s study.’

  ‘About time too.’ Mrs Duffen appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Where, may I ask, have you been?’

  ‘Out riding.’

  ‘I can see that.’ She tipped her nose in the air and gave a loud sniff. ‘And you smell as though you hav
e been rolling in the hay. Get yourself upstairs and cleaned up.’

  ‘I’ve got some things to do first.’

  ‘No, you haven’t. Get upstairs.’

  ‘Can you send Susy up with the ledgers, please. They’re on Pa’s desk in the study.’

  ‘I’ll do that and you give her those disgusting clothes. I’ve no idea when they were last washed.’

  Catherine let out a huge sigh. Handing over her breeches wasn’t an option. What would she wear tomorrow? She couldn’t go down to the circus camp dressed in a velvet riding habit, perched sidesaddle. ‘My breeches are fine. They don’t need a wash. I’ll hang them up and let the air get to them. Bessie got a bit flustered. I may have ridden her too hard.’ Where had that come from?

  ‘Upstairs with you and hurry up.’

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Catherine made for her bedchamber.

  Archie was right, the trip to the circus camp had dispersed the heavy clouds hanging over her and despite all the riding today she had more energy than she’d had since Pa died.

  It wasn’t so much his death as much as she missed him, longed for the evenings they’d spent talking and reading. He was in a better place than the past two pain-wracked years, but the repercussions, the paperwork, De Silva’s concern about her ability to manage and, worst of all, Gatenby’s visit threatened to make her life a misery. She had to make Bartholomew understand she couldn’t marry him. Not in three weeks, not on July the seventh. Never.

  ‘Are these the books you wanted, miss?’ Susy edged into the room and placed the ledgers side by side on Catherine’s bureau. ‘Mrs Duffen said I was to take your dirty clothes.’

  ‘I’ll change later and please don’t wash my breeches. Simply sponge them. I’ll be riding again tomorrow.’

  She’d sort out this money business once and for all, then write a letter to Bartholomew and formally decline his offer of marriage. There was no point in him making unnecessary arrangements, as he had with Pa’s funeral. Besides, she’d already made up her mind. Femme sole. The only question that remained was the best way to achieve it.

  A prickle of shame traced her skin. She was in mourning but so far removed from the picture she had painted for Gatenby. It was tantamount to a lie. She shook her head and peered into the mirror. No hedging. She’d lied. She would always mourn Pa but life must go on. She had a property to manage and she couldn’t destroy the hopes and dreams of a hundred and sixty-seven people who called Cottington Hill home.

  By the time she’d thumbed her way through pages and pages of De Silva’s neat columns and rows of figures her head was spinning. No matter which way she twisted the totals, marriage to Bartholomew was the most obvious solution to Cottington’s financial woes. Pa had been right. She slammed the books closed. Damn it to hell. There must be another way.

  Eleven

  Sergey pulled Tsar to a halt, taking in the entire vista from the big house perched on the hill to the river flats and the small tenant farms. The place fascinated him, an entire village where everyone worked together for the good of each other. It was the stuff dreams were made of, the kind of life Batya and Rudi had planned when they’d first arrived in Van Diemen’s Land, the blacksmith and the horse breaker working together, breeding the finest horses. Everything had gone well until the string of misadventures had destroyed their dreams.

  First the typhus epidemic that had taken Batya, then Rudi’s accident and their move to town. They should have stayed on the farm away from the temptations that had seen their life disintegrate. The circus had seemed such a wonderful opportunity; perhaps that’s where the rot had set in.

  Nikolas wouldn’t have gone looking for work in some vain attempt to prove his worth. Valentina would have stayed on the farm and the lure and temptation of the glitter would have been confined to bird’s feathers and pretty rocks, not the baubles that had attracted her in the town.

  Maybe the goldfields would be the answer. The irony was inescapable, following the trail with all those seeking their fortune. It was no longer a fortune he sought but the man who had reduced their lives to rubble. What he wouldn’t give to have what Catherine had, that permanent and perpetual memorial to her father’s dreams.

  He lifted his head to the trail, picked out the cloud of dust and the bright shimmer of her hair. For all his discontent Catherine brought a touch of sunshine into his life and the tantalising thought there might be more than this frustrating search for justice.

  She brought the whip down through the air with a slash and thundered towards him, then skidded to an impressive standstill.

  Reining in, he brought Tsar alongside Bessie.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m later than I promised. I had matters to deal with at home.’ Her face held none of its previous glow, her eyes shaded and her mouth downturned.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Oh.’ She let out a long pent-up breath and her shoulders drooped. ‘Legal matters.’ She swung down from her horse before he could offer any assistance. ‘I can’t do it. I won’t.’ She dropped Bessie’s reins and thumped her hands onto her hips. ‘They can’t make me marry him. I won’t.’

  A twist of something that might well be jealousy curled in the pit of his stomach. He’d put Archie’s words about her impending marriage out of his mind, not wanting to dwell on it. Swallowing back the taste of despair he tried to reconcile his feelings. ‘I should offer my congratulations.’ His words sounded so formal. She’d brought home the fact that he would never marry, never sire a child. How could he take on that kind of responsibility?

  ‘Don’t. It isn’t that kind of marriage.’

  ‘What other kind is there?’

  ‘The kind where I’m auctioned to the highest bidder, it would seem.’

  ‘Come. Let’s sit down. You need someone to talk to.’ More than anything else he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her that he’d solve every one of her problems.

  A tear glinted in the corner of her eye and she brushed it away with an angry swipe. ‘I’m behaving like a spoilt child.’

  ‘No, you’re behaving like a woman with a problem.’

  ‘That’s the problem in itself—I’m not a woman. Were I a woman there would be no problem.’

  More than just a woman, perhaps the most beautiful person he had ever had the good fortune to stumble across. Tsar had been right from the very beginning, she’d captured his heart. ‘Maybe I can help.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Try me. Sometimes just speaking about your problems can lead to a solution.’

  ‘Pa told me I’d inherit Cottington Hill. I thought to continue his work, a living memorial to all he’d striven for.’

  Sergey nodded. His very thoughts only minutes earlier.

  ‘Now it seems that I can’t because Pa had loans on the property, loans he intended to repay by selling me off like some horse at a thieves’s market.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘The man I’m to marry has offered to repay the loans over Cottington Hill. I don’t believe him. I think he will sell the property.’

  Money. It always came down to money. If they’d had the money to oil the wheels of justice would the outcome have been different? ‘Why would he do that? It’s a profitable business, isn’t it?’

  ‘He lives in Sydney; he’s a businessman. Money’s the only thing that interests him. He’s already sent for me. Set the wedding date. I’m to travel to Sydney. Leave Cottington. Leave everything I’ve ever known.’

  ‘You told me you’d inherit the place.’

  ‘I will, but not until I’m twenty-one. Until then Mr De Silva is the trustee. He wants me to marry Bartholomew, and so did Pa. They believe a woman’s role is to produce heirs, not manage an estate. I don’t want to marry the man on any count. He doesn’t love me, I don’t love him.’

  The tightness in his chest loosened. ‘Then refuse him. From what I can see you’re more than capable of running the property.’ More capable than any woman he’d ever met.
And she had Archie behind her, not to mention all the tenants who’d attended her father’s funeral. Their respect and admiration for her had been more than obvious.

  ‘You don’t understand.’ She marched a few paces away then turned. ‘Until I’m twenty-one I can’t inherit in my own right.’

  ‘Then wait until you’re twenty-one. How long’s that?’

  ‘Six months.’

  He walked up to her and turned her to face him. ‘That’s not so long.’ Why six months ago they hadn’t even reached Sydney. ‘Just bide your time and refuse this suitor. There will be others.’ Unfortunately.

  ‘Not only do I not want to marry him, I don’t want to marry anyone. The moment I do I lose everything. I can’t own property. I can’t earn an income. I can’t argue a case in court. I’m completely under my husband’s thumb. I become a non-entity. The only thing I can do is produce children, who then also become the property of my husband.’ She stuck her hands up and flapped them like wings. ‘A golden goose’

  He bit back a smile. Goose no. Golden yes. All gold, sleek and shining hair and smooth sun-kissed skin. The mere sight of her made him burn.

  ‘When I checked the accounts I came to the same conclusion as Pa,’ Catherine said, ‘that’s why everyone is pushing me into this marriage. I just wish I could run away and hide for six months, then reappear a fully fledged adult deemed capable of managing Cottington Hill and all that it entails. I know that’s what Pa wanted before the laudanum. It was his illness and fear that drove him to this ridiculous plan.’

  ‘Bide your time until you’re twenty-one. Isn’t there somewhere you could go? Friends, relatives you could stay with. Travel perhaps. Refuse. Say no and stay out of everyone’s way. The time will pass quickly enough. No one can force you to marry.’