A Wicked Deception

by Tanner, Margaret

  She scribbled a note to the shepherd asking him to feed the poultry, and attend to the milking until James returned. He had worked for the family for years and saw to things if they went away, but to be sure, she attached the note to the door where he couldn’t fail to see it.

  The sergeant helped her into the carriage before climbing up to his own seat. The countryside dozed serenely in the December sun. Soon it would be Christmas. How would they spend it this year? Uncle Alex would probably stay at the diggings now. James and Robbie could be anywhere, while she might be in prison.

  They did not return to the jail. The sergeant drove straight to where a coach waited, the horses harnessed ready to go. He left the carriage and horses at the side of the road and prodded her ahead of him. The coach driver leered at her before spitting out a wad of tobacco near her foot, the filthy beast. The sergeant pushed her into the coach and climbed in beside her.

  Two male passengers sat in the coach. One wore the rough garb of a miner who, by the grin on his face, had recently struck it rich, and was celebrating. The other passenger, a portly gentleman, wore a knee length jacket with matching trousers, and a brightly colored cravat about his throat. Both men stared at her with interest. The gentleman doffed his hat, although he made no effort to speak, while the miner kept on grinning.

  “Off to Melbourne on holiday, Miss?” The portly gentleman asked.

  If only he knew. She forced herself to return his smile, but did not answer. What could she say?

  Closing her eyes, she recalled the happenings of the past few days. A never-ending nightmare, awake or asleep it made no difference. Her eyes grew heavy and finally closed as the movement of the coach lulled her into sleep.

  Melanie awoke with a start when the coach came to a lurching halt.

  “Bail up.”

  A bushranger was holding up their coach. Oh God, what more could possibly happen to her?

  “Everyone out,” the outlaw growled.

  On faltering legs, she clambered down to the roadway, watching the masked man who stood with a pistol in either hand. He looked tall, but this was all she could tell about him since a red kerchief covered his mouth and nose, and he wore his hat pulled right down over his forehead.

  “Hand over your gold.”

  “There isn’t any gold on this coach,” the driver sniveled. “Only passengers.”

  “Come now,” the bushranger’s voice sounded deep, gravelly. “This is the gold coach from Ballarat.”

  “No, no.” The driver wrung his hands in anguish. “Please, mister, there’s no gold, only passengers. Have mercy on me. I have a wife and seven children.”

  She despised his blubbering, while even the sergeant made no attempt to challenge this creature.

  “The gold coach isn’t due for another three hours.” The sergeant finally found his voice.

  “I bailed up the wrong coach? Well, what have you got of value to make it worth my while? Turn out your pockets. On second thoughts, I have enough trinkets, but a pretty face is always a welcome diversion.” He leered at her. “The rest of you get back in the coach, the wench stays with me.”

  Horror turned her insides to jelly as the three men boarded the coach. “You can’t leave me with this, this, brute. Please,” she beseeched. “Have you no decency?”

  “You mean nothing to me, girl, why should I get myself shot for you?” the miner whined. “Every man’s entitled to a bit of fun now and again.”

  “You wretched, sniveling cowards.” She turned to face the sergeant. “You can’t let this … this outlaw abduct me. What kind of soldier would let his prisoner be kidnapped from under his nose?” The sergeant turned his head away.

  “Come on, girl.” The bushranger grabbed her arm, and she lashed out at him with her foot. He let out a curse, but held her firmly by clamping both arms about her, and crushing her to his chest. “For God’s sake, shut up, Michael Guilford sent me,” he growled.

  “Michael did?” Her knees almost collapsed under her.

  “Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “Now, you cowardly dogs, be off before I change my mind and shoot you down like the mangy scum you are.”

  After the coach took off at breakneck speed the man laughed. “They weren’t too worried about protecting your maidenly virtue, Missie.”

  “What did you mean by saying Michael Guilford sent you?”

  “He paid me to hold up the coach. He’s hiding over there behind those trees.” With a brief salute the man rode off.

  She turned her head from right to left, trying to gather her wits. Michael strode purposefully towards her.

  “Oh, Michael. Thank God you came. Who was that man? Why did you pay him to hold up the coach?”

  “His name is Elliot. I heard of him from an acquaintance. He’d sell his grandmother for the right price, an unsavory individual, but useful.”

  “Why?” she persisted, but inwardly her spirits lifted. He hadn’t deserted her.

  “I couldn’t think of anything else to get you away. I warned you to leave the diggings.”

  “I had to help Robbie. I couldn’t desert him.” She started crying, the tears rolling down her cheeks tumbled into the collar of her dress.

  “Don’t cry, there isn’t time. Try to be brave a little longer. We have to get away from here quickly. Once Douglas hears his prized prisoner has escaped, the area will be swarming with soldiers.”

  With his arm around her shoulders, they left the road and headed straight into the scrub. After a hundred yards or so, it opened on to a clearing, where two horses were tethered. Releasing her shoulders, Michael strode over to one of the horses and rummaged through the saddlebag. He handed over a man’s shirt, and a pair of white moleskin trousers.

  “Change quickly. Two stockmen will have a better chance of riding around unnoticed than a gentleman with a pretty young lady at his side.”

  “I can’t change here.” Embarrassed heat flooded her cheeks.

  “I’ll turn my back, but hurry. We can take your clothes with us. You’ll need them later on.”

  With shaking hands she unbuttoned her bodice. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her, and went as far as pinching herself to make sure she really was awake and the events of the last few days weren’t a terrible nightmare. Dragging on the shirt, she then stepped out of her skirt and petticoats. With the belt buckled up, the trousers fitted quite snug.

  “You can turn around now.”

  Michael smiled when he saw her. “Well, you are a handsome lad. Your hair is going to be a problem though.”

  “Cut it off.”

  “No, absolutely not, I forbid you to cut so much as an inch off it.”

  Too worn out and drained to argue, she meekly pushed the hair up under the wide-brimmed hat he handed over. After pulling on a pair of black boots, she bundled her clothes together and stuffed them into one of the saddlebags.

  He helped her mount then they rode without speaking again, concentrating on putting as much distance as possible between themselves and any would be pursuers. Keeping away from the main roads they headed across country through the bush. Girth high ferns and bracken brushed against her legs, before snapping back into place as they passed by. She shuddered on thinking about what punishment awaited if the redcoats captured her. Michael had put himself in danger and it gave her a warm feeling to know he had put himself at risk to save her.

  Her arms ached, her body felt as if it had been run over by a coach, with every bone broken, by the time he stopped in a small clearing for them to rest. He lifted her from the saddle, and sat her under the shade of a large gum tree, while he attended to their mounts. From somewhere close by a stream babbled. After leading the horses down to drink, he came back and squatted beside her.

  “Are you hungry?” She nodded, too tired even to speak, but she managed to raise a tremulous smile. The trauma of the last few days had really sapped her strength, but hadn’t completely broken her spirit.

  “Sorry, we can’t light a fire, someo
ne might see it, but there’s bread, cold meat, oh and some apple pie for us to eat.” He flashed a smile. “I can’t let you starve.”

  “The last couple of days have been terrible.” She barely recognized the quivering, husky voice as her own. “When Major Douglas hit me, you didn’t seem to care.”

  He sat beside her and picked up her hand, holding it gently. “I cared. You can’t know what a shock I got when you turned out to be his prized rebel prisoner. I dared not let on how well we knew each other.”

  “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you, too. I thought you’d betrayed us by going over to the other side.”

  “Some of the influential land owners asked me to join the Committee. They were worried about what open rebellion could mean. There might have been civil war,” he lied. He couldn’t give a damn what these colonials did. He wanted Melanie.

  “Once I saw you, I had to get you away. To think you spent a night in some rat infested cell. It must have been frightful.” He sighed dramatically, hoping he wasn’t overdoing it. “You stepped into the room so proudly, ready to defy everyone. Robbie will never know what you did for him.”

  “James is taking him to Bendigo where some relative of Uncle Alex lives.”

  “Whereabouts in Bendigo?” This was the opportunity he had been hoping for. Douglas would pay handsomely for information on Pritchard’s hideout. His plan was running so smoothly he almost felt guilty. Sweet little Melanie, so trusting and desirable. Yes, very desirable, and soon she would be his in every sense of the word. His groin tightened in anticipation.

  “I don’t know, James just said he was taking him to Bendigo.”

  “It seems rather risky hanging around the goldfields.”

  “They’re going through Daylesford and Castlemaine. James says it would be safer with lots of other miners around.”

  “Have I met Alex’s relative?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What’s his name?” he persisted.

  “Arthur Chadwick.”

  “I don’t recall meeting anyone named Chadwick.” He smiled. “I think we should be moving along now.”

  “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  “I’ve always been fond of you, Melanie, but when I saw you covered in blood and dirt in that mean little hut, I realized how much you did mean to me. You were terrified. Your eyes wide with fear, not a vestige of color remained in your face, yet you stayed to protect Robbie. He shouldn’t have let you take such a risk.”

  “I had to save him, no matter what it cost. I’d have laid my life down for him.”

  Michael’s lips snapped together at the passion in her voice. “Don’t get overwrought. I have a doctor friend living near Geelong. We can stay there for a night or two. It will give us time to make some plans.”

  “Won’t you get into trouble for helping me?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “What about Lady Priscilla?”

  “We agreed to part a week or more ago, all very civilized. Priscilla met up with a French Duke at a Government House function, thought his prospects better than mine.” Conniving bitch, he thought savagely, swallowing back on his rage, but Melanie was a greater prize with her soft, sweet innocence. Mine for the taking if I play my cards right, he consoled himself, but Priscilla would pay for her treachery. No woman humiliated Michael Guilford and got away with it.

  “I’m sorry.” She touched his cheek in a gesture of sympathy.

  “Why? I’m not.” He grasped both hands to pull her up. “You’re tired, I know, my sweet, but we must keep going. If it gets dark before we leave the bush we could lose our bearings. I’m not experienced in this kind of country like James.”

  He swung her up in his arms, before striding towards their horses. She rested her head on his chest, and his heart thudded strongly against her ear.

  “There.” He put her in the saddle and handed up the reins. It was now so hot everything seemed to be dozing in the shimmering heat. They startled birds into flight as they galloped by, and kangaroos and emus darted for cover at their noisy approach.

  Late in the afternoon they stopped to rest their horses again. She felt so tired she barely had enough strength to drink from the canteen. This land of brooding solitude was so wide and empty they had ridden for hours without seeing another human being.

  “In a few hours you can rest, a nice comfortable bed and hot food.” Michael smiled before turning serious again. “This is the most dangerous part of our journey. We have to leave the safety of the bush to pass through a small hamlet. Stay close beside me. Don’t speak unless you have to. Remember, we’re two stockmen searching for a new stock route.”

  Glancing down at his dusty clothes, he grimaced. “Few people would recognize the Honorable Michael Guilford, only son of Lord and Lady Guilford of Greystones, in these rags.”

  She gave a wan smile because he tried so hard to cheer her up and allay her fears. She was exhausted, nevertheless, when he rose, she did also.

  “You’re as light as thistledown.” Once more he scooped her up in his arms and sat her in the saddle.

  They passed unchallenged through a cluster of tents and huts making up this small gold mining hamlet. Three barking kangaroo dogs bounded out to greet them. A bearded man, who stared at them with hostile curiosity, called the dogs back.

  “How far is it to Geelong?” Michael asked, as they drew abreast of him. She kept her head lowered praying none of her hair had escaped from under her hat.

  “A couple of hours, that way.” The man pointed with one finger.

  Michael urged his mount on; she did likewise. He waited until they were some distance away before speaking. “Probably thinks we’re sniffing around ready to jump his claim. You’re exhausted, aren’t you, my brave girl?” He nudged his horse closer so he could squeeze her hand.

  On and on they rode. Her hair, jammed so tight into her hat, made her head feel as if it had caught fire. Their horses were tired and sweating from having traveled so far.

  Michael appeared hot and dusty also, with damp patches of perspiration causing his shirt to cling to his back. In all the time she had known him, he had always looked immaculate, but now dark stubble covered his jaw.

  The sun slipping behind the mountains turned them a hazy red, a signal for parrots in a multitude of colors to pop out of every tree. Hundreds of them appeared once the sun’s hot rays disappeared.

  They kept on riding. She swayed with fatigue, her head thumped so badly black spots appeared before her eyes. The reins slipped from her hands and she couldn’t pick them up. The horse stumbled without her guidance, but righted itself as Michael grasped hold of the reins.

  “Melanie.”

  Tears of exhaustion filled her eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to snap at you, but you’re letting your horse wander all over the place.”

  “I can’t ride any more. Please, I’m too tired to hold the reins properly.” She hunched over the horse’s neck.

  “Here, let me lead you. Thread your fingers through his mane and hang on.”

  Darkness fell suddenly in the Australian bush, and the night birds started calling out to each other. A wild dog howled mournfully in the blackness, to be answered by his mate. Their guiding light came from thousands of stars scattered across the Milky Way.

  Sudden pinpricks of light appeared in the distance. “Not long now.” His voice sounded far away as the pounding in her head reached a crescendo.

  Chapter Seven

  Melanie woke up and tried to focus her eyes. After blinking several times, realization dawned. It was broad daylight. She lay between lavender scented sheets in a calico lined room. A pretty picture of Mary and the Christ child reposed on a chest of drawers. Lace curtains fluttered at the half opened windows.

  She sat up, surprised to find herself wearing a white cotton nightgown trimmed with lace and blue ribbons. Holding a sleeve close to her face, she again inhaled the fragrance of lavender.

  “You’re awake.” A
young woman appeared at her bedside. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, thank you, I must have slept like the dead.”

  “Michael left you in our care. I’m Sophia Lawrence.”

  Melanie’s fingers clutched at the edge of the sheet. Anxiety almost froze the words in her throat. “Has Michael gone?”

  “He’ll return, never fear. He left early this morning to see some government officials.”

  “Why?” Melanie’s heart missed a beat. Surely Michael hadn’t decided to turn her in to the authorities after all?

  “Unofficially, of course, he wants to find out what’s happening. Would you like something to eat?”

  “Yes please. Thank you so much for taking me in without notice. I don’t like to think I might be putting you at risk.”

  Sophia laughed again. Short and slightly built, she wore her fair hair pulled back from her face and held in place with a velvet band.

  “Michael explained the whole story. Charles and I think you’re so brave. No one will ever think of searching for you here.”

  After she left the room, Melanie debated about whether to stay in bed or get up. The rattle of crockery heralded Sophia’s return with a tray laden with porridge, toast and tea.

  “I might share some toast and tea with you.” She rested the tray across Melanie’s knees before perching herself at the foot of the bed.

  “You don’t look like a doctor’s wife,” Melanie blurted out, and Sophia went into peals of laughter. Soon they giggled together like old friends. Later, bathed and dressed, Melanie made her way out to the kitchen to find her hostess up to her elbows in scone dough.

  “Are you feeling better, my dear?”

  “Yes, thank you. Was it you who pressed my gown?”

  “Yes, a doctor’s allowance doesn’t run to full-time servants yet. I have a woman coming in twice a week to do the heavy work.” She giggled girlishly then sobered for a moment. “Poor Charles worries about such things, but who needs fancy maids? “

  Sophia’s pleasant, cheerful manner put her at ease.