by Laura Martin
His family knew Francesca’s father was responsible for Ben’s conviction and subsequent transportation so she might not be the most welcome. Even so, he felt the warmth of her body by his side and knew he drew strength from her being there.
Silently he shook his head. He shouldn’t need anyone to give him strength. He’d survived false imprisonment, two years on the filthy hulk ships, the perilous crossing to Australia and nearly six years of hard labour under the hot sun. From that dark time he’d risen and built an empire of some of the most successful and productive farms in Australia. Ben knew he was strong, knew he was a survivor, but right now he felt like a scared young lad.
‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, not able to admit how much he needed her in this moment.
They continued their journey through the village in silence, Francesca must have sensed his need to prepare for the reunion ahead and the familiar sights from his childhood were overwhelming. Not much had changed in nearly two decades. The high street still had the same small collection of shops, with only a couple of new shopfronts added. The village square looked identical to when Ben had last run around it with the other village children and the church still dominated Elswyre with its towering steeple and impressive stone exterior.
He leaned out of the window of the carriage, calling for the coachman to stop. The last bit of the journey he wished to do on foot.
Hopping down, he turned back to assist Francesca, wondering if he was making a mistake in allowing her to accompany him. It should be family time, all about the reunion, but he was unable to send her away. He wanted her reassuring presence by his side, her warmth, her kindness, her calming attitude.
They crossed the village square, going past the oldest houses in the village and turning off into a narrow street. His father’s house, the house Ben had grown up in, was the second on the left.
It was quite an impressive size, especially for a working man. Years ago, even before Ben was born, his parents had inherited it from a wealthy aunt of his father’s. It had been the reason they had moved to Elswyre and led to Ben’s father taking the job as land steward for Lord Pottersdown.
He felt Francesca slip her hand into his and only then did he realise he’d frozen, stopped in the middle of the road, unable to take another step.
‘He’s your father, he loves you,’ she murmured quietly, applying a little pressure to his hand to get him moving again.
Ben took another step, then stopped again as the door to the house was thrown open.
‘Ben?’ a clear voice called out.
It was unmistakably his father. Eighteen years and the man hardly looked any different. His once-dark hair was now filled with a smattering of grey and his face had acquired a few more lines, but apart from that it could have been exactly the man who’d hefted Ben up on to his shoulders during one of their long walks across the fields or told him a bedtime story while tucking him in at night.
‘Father?’ Ben said, hearing the layers of emotion in his voice. Beside him he felt Francesca step back discreetly, letting father and son have their moment.
With outstretched arms his father rushed towards him, pulling Ben towards his chest and embracing him for ten seconds before pulling away to study his son’s face.
‘My, you’ve changed,’ his father said, ‘although in some ways barely at all. It is good to have you home. I’ve been waiting for this day for eighteen years.’
The tears were flowing freely down his cheeks and Ben felt his own well up in his eyes. His father grasped his arm, leading him inside, seemingly unable to stop touching him as if scared Ben might disappear at any moment.
‘Thomas,’ Ben said, catching sight of his brother as he stepped into the hallway. ‘And William.’ He embraced the two men, memories of their childhood together flooding in and almost overwhelming him.
‘Good to have you home, Brother,’ Thomas said.
‘We’ve been waiting for this day for a long time,’ William added.
They were both big men, tall with broad shoulders and rich, dark hair and eyes just like their father. Ben favoured their mother more in looks with his green eyes, but the family resemblance was obvious.
‘Come in, sit down, we have so much to catch up on,’ Ben’s father said, ushering them in to the comfortable room filled with armchairs and sofas at the front of the house.
Inside a little boy played on the floor, setting up line upon line of toy soldiers and moving them while babbling away happily to himself. Thomas’s son, Ben supposed, the one his brother had sole care of since he’d lost his wife.
‘My boy, Benjamin,’ Thomas said quietly. ‘We call him Benny.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Benny.’ He felt a little stab of emotion at the thought of his brother wanting to remember him in this small way, giving his own son Ben’s name.
The little boy grinned, then went happily back to playing his game.
Sitting down, Ben felt the familiarity of the house and for a moment he was back in those carefree days of his childhood where he was loved and cared for and thought everything in the world was good.
Realising he should introduce Francesca, he glanced at his father. The man was reasonable and forgiving, but he didn’t know how he would react to seeing Francesca after all this time.
‘This is a friend, Father,’ he said slowly.
‘I know who she is.’
Ben glanced at Francesca, saw her cheeks redden, but she didn’t back away and held the older man’s gaze. Ben realised just how uncomfortable it must have been for her to suggest coming here with him today, but she’d done it anyway. For him.
The silence stretched out for nearly a minute, before Ben’s father crossed to Francesca and took her hand.
‘You’re welcome in this house,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ Francesca said quietly. ‘I’m sorry—’
Ben’s father cut her off with a shake of his head. ‘No need for that. You did everything you could, it wasn’t your fault no one listened to you.’ He glanced over at Ben with a hint of question in his eyes. ‘And it would appear my son does not hold a grudge. We’re happy to have you here.’
He motioned for Francesca to sit on the sofa next to Ben while a middle-aged woman bustled into the room, carrying a tray with a large teapot, cups and a cake ready for slicing.
‘How are you, Father?’ Ben asked. The older man looked well, his face was tanned and had a healthy glow, probably from all the hours spent outside.
‘I’m well, Son. All the better for seeing you.’
‘And your journey from the north?’ Ben asked.
‘As smooth as can be expected.’ His father’s voice was smooth and melodious and Ben felt the warmth inside him as it took him back to his childhood, the days where he was happy and carefree. ‘But enough about me, I want to hear about you. What have you been doing since you’ve been back in England?’
Glancing at Francesca, he wondered how to answer that question. He could hardly tell his father he had been caught up pursuing a woman he had no right to be interested in. She was bound for marriage, albeit an inadvisable one, and he would one day soon return home to Australia.
‘I travelled with George Fitzgerald and Sam Robertson,’ Ben said, knowing his father would be aware of the two men from his letters to England that often spoke of the friends who were almost brothers. ‘And while I awaited your return I stayed with them in London.’
Ben didn’t miss the speculative glance his father flashed at Francesca as he digested Ben’s words.
‘Tell us about Australia,’ William said, his eyes wide and his tone enthusiastic.
‘It’s a wondrous country,’ Ben said. ‘Harsh and dangerous, but beautiful at the same time.’
‘You’ve come to love it?’ His father asked.
‘Yes. I hated it for the first couple of years, until Mr Fitzge
rald...’ Ben trailed off, not sure how his father would react to hearing the name of the man who’d stepped up and taken Ben under his protection, becoming a second father in many ways.
‘A man I will always be eternally grateful to,’ he said quietly. ‘I wished I could be there with you each and every day, but in my absence I’m just glad to know someone watched out for you, someone cared for you.’
‘He did, Father. He was a good man.’ Ben paused, remembering for a moment the man who had taken him and Robertson into his family. Only when he glanced at his brothers’ eager faces did he continue with his descriptions of Australia. ‘It seemed a dusty and cruel country when I first arrived and for many months I hated it. It was only when I’d served the first few years in Australia, when they deemed me trustworthy enough to work on the farms rather than do the hardest of the jobs—building roads—that I began to actually see my surroundings.’
‘Is it very dangerous? All the strange creatures and wild natives?’ Thomas asked, his honest and open face clouded with concern.
‘There are some dangerous creatures. Snakes that will kill with a single bite. Spiders the size of a dinner plate, but we never had any trouble from the natives.’
‘And you actually like it out there?’ Thomas asked, incredulous.
‘It’s wild and untamed,’ Ben said, trying to convey the allure of a land that was so vast and beautiful, but in a way completely different to the rolling green hills of England. ‘The beaches are stretches of golden sand and inland the farmland is beautiful and bountiful. There are mountains and deserts and everything in between.’
‘You’ll go back?’ his father asked quietly. There was a wealth of emotion hidden in that small question. Ben opened his mouth to answer, felt the words unable to come out. Beside him Francesca sought out his fingers with her own and squeezed, trying to reassure him. It was a tiny movement, their hands hidden under the layers of her skirt so no one else could see, but Ben felt the strength flowing from her into him.
‘Of course you’ll go back,’ his father said, shaking his head. ‘Your life is there, everything you’ve built for yourself.’
But not his family. And not Francesca.
Ben blinked at the thought. He’d never considered staying in England before, never even thought it was a possibility. For so long he’d been apprehensive about seeing his father again and meeting the brothers he hadn’t seen since childhood, he hadn’t thought much past it. This meeting was the culmination of his plans and now the future stretched out, empty and open, full of possibilities.
‘I suppose I will have to,’ Ben said quietly, glancing at Francesca.
That was one thing he should be certain of: his future wouldn’t include Francesca. He might like her, care for her, spend his nights dreaming of having her soft body beside him, but he was not a man meant to settle down. Ever since his first dalliance with a woman he’d found it hard to imagine spending a lifetime with someone. Every time anyone even began to get close, he found he felt the beginnings of panic—the thought that if he started to care for someone, they might be wrenched away from him.
His friends always joked that one day he would fall head over heels in love and then the object of his affection would end their affair as he had with dozens of women before. Surreptitiously he glanced sideways at Francesca. Only now was he beginning to realise that it was Francesca, and the way they’d been pulled apart all those years ago, that had made him the way he was. Even if he didn’t like to admit it, losing Francesca had shaped him into the man he was today—a man who knew he could never settle down out of fear of losing the one he loved.
Suppressing a grim chuckle, he shook his head. It didn’t matter anyway; the object of his affection, the only woman who had ever come close to his heart, was steadfastly insisting on marrying a man who would make her miserable.
‘Perhaps something might persuade you to stay,’ Thomas said, casting a knowing glance at Ben and Francesca.
Ben shifted uncomfortably. His brother’s remark was just a little too astute for comfort.
‘I should leave you to your reunion,’ Francesca said, her cheeks delightfully pink, but whether it was from the warmth of the roaring fire or her understanding of the knowing, but wrong, glances being exchanged across the room.
‘Come to dinner,’ Ben’s father said, ‘Our table is only humble, but you are most welcome at it. We eat at seven.’
‘Thank you,’ Francesca said quietly and Ben could see she was overwhelmed by the invitation from a man who should rightly hate her.
Standing, he escorted Francesca to the door, pausing as she pulled on her cloak and gloves.
‘Enjoy them,’ she said, standing on tiptoes and planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘You deserve every moment of this.’
He watched her leave, realising that although he was back with the family he’d yearned for all those years he spent apart, he felt as if something were missing as she walked away.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Tell me everything,’ his father said as they strolled side by side around the village, their breath floating in an icy vapour and their posture stiff to try to combat the cold despite the thick coats they were wearing.
It was hard to know where to start. How did you compress eighteen years of life into a few short hours or days? Ben had written to his father over the years, long letters describing his situation, his successes and the people who surrounded him, but he knew it wasn’t like hearing it first-hand.
‘Tell me about your life now,’ his father said, seeing Ben hesitate.
‘I’m happy, Father,’ Ben said, watching the older man nod in satisfaction. ‘I’m my own master, I make my own decisions and my own mistakes. Australia is a curious land, over half the population are ex-convicts, but still it seems like a land of opportunity. Any man can rise up and become successful, no matter his past sins.’
‘And your farms are thriving?’
‘Very much so. Or at least they were when I left.’ In total Ben owned seven farms, stretching out over a vast area in eastern Australia. The first he’d been given by Mr Fitzgerald the elder, a present when he’d turned eighteen, although legally he hadn’t been able to take control of it until he’d served out his sentence two years later. That small parcel of land had flourished under his careful management and soon he had borrowed against it to buy more land. Ben took risks, but always calculated ones, and his strategy had paid off. He was now one of the wealthiest landowners in Australia and had a mixture of arable and cattle farms that provided him with an income that surpassed his wildest dreams.
‘You have someone trusty looking after them?’
Ben thought of the man he’d left in charge, dependable, safe and certainly trustworthy. ‘I do,’ he said, but even he could hear the hesitation in his voice.
‘You find it hard to let someone else look after things and make the decisions?’ his father said with a knowing smile, ‘You were the same as a lad.’
‘I expect to make mistakes,’ Ben said slowly, ‘Everyone does. To plant a wrong crop one year, to move the cattle somewhere the water supply is dwindling, but they are my mistakes.’
‘You find it hard to let go, to give up the responsibility...’ his father paused and Ben felt his eyes on his face ‘...to trust?’
Hesitating only a second, Ben nodded. He’d forgotten how astute his father was, how well he read people and understood them with just a few hours in their company.
‘And how about your personal life?’ his father asked. ‘Have you found someone special to share all this success with?’
An image of Francesca flashed across his mind, but quickly he suppressed it.
‘No,’ he said, trying to be abrupt and put an end to that line of conversation.
‘That is a shame,’ his father said, patting him affectionately on the arm, ‘A companion, someone to share the highs and lows with, is
the biggest blessing you can have in life. Apart from your children, of course, but one could argue it is difficult to beget one without the other.’
‘You never remarried,’ Ben said quietly. The question as to why had been on his mind for so long. It had been impossible to ask in a letter, but still he had a burning need to know why.
‘I loved your mother with all my heart,’ his father said. ‘She lit up my world. I’ve never found anyone I care for the way I cared for her and it would be cruel to marry again and expect a woman to settle for anything less than the wholehearted love they deserve.’
‘Were you ever tempted? When we were young?’
‘To give you another mother of sorts?’ his father clarified. ‘No.’ He laughed good naturedly. ‘I supposed myself to be enough for you all.’
‘You were.’
‘But you do not have my excuse,’ his father said, turning serious again. ‘You have not loved and lost, so what is holding you back?’
Ben couldn’t answer.
‘Perhaps the one you want is somehow off limits to you?’ his father prompted. ‘Perhaps you’ve been holding back from loving anyone while you wait for the one your heart truly wants.’
‘Father...’
‘It’s obvious to see, just as it was when you were a child.’
Again he opened his mouth to start denying the attraction and feelings he had for Francesca, but his father stopped him.
‘You loved her then, do you remember that?’
Ben shook his head. He’d thought of Francesca like a sister, like a best friend, nothing more. They’d only been children.
‘Oh, it was an innocent sort of love, I have no doubt, but you loved her. Put her before yourself every time. I had visions of you two growing up and running off together, to escape her disapproving parents. But life worked out a little differently.’
‘Just a little,’ Ben murmured.
‘I’m a hopeless romantic and I suppose I believe there is one true love for all of us out there,’ his father said, stopping in front of the church. He motioned for Ben to go into the churchyard before him and then looped around in front, leading his son a few steps to the neatly kept grave. ‘Your mother made me the happiest man alive. I would hate for you to miss out on that feeling.’