The old man moved back to allow her space. ‘He used your name, Younger Sister of Li Po. He claimed to be your friend. Is it not so?’
‘Oh, yes. He is my friend. Thank you, honourable sir, for taking him in. All prisoners are being transferred to Melbourne, whatever their condition, and I doubt if J.G. would have survived the journey with such a wound.’ She examined the long gash running from below J.G’s ear across the base of the skull, finding it had been cleaned and the edges stitched together. But a great deal of blood had soaked into his shirt, and his skin was pallid. He hardly seemed to breathe, although from time to time he muttered unintelligibly.
Despite an age-cracked voice and severely bent back, the old tong was clearly experienced in dealing with wounds. He detailed the methods he had used on the patient, including compression of the wound until bleeding had all but ceased, and the use of boiled thread to sew it together. Reassured, Pearl brought out an ointment of mouldy strained cream and applied it before bandaging, saying as calmly as she could, ‘You have saved his life. I am eternally grateful to you.’
‘You are one of us. Also, your fame as a healer has spread like an ocean wave across the land. It is known that you never refuse anyone in need. That is the way of an enlightened soul.’
Pearl, thinking of Dr. Hsien Lo, muttered, ‘I try.’
With the tong’s help she undressed J.G., searching for further injuries, thankfully finding only a few bruises. After wrapping him in a blanket, she cleaned his face where he had bled from the nostrils, moistened his dry lips and placed pads soaked in cooling herbs over his eye-lids, then waited for him to come to his senses.
She waited through another day and night, with only snatched minutes of rest, growing more concerned by the hour. Close to dawn after the second night he seemed to rise nearer to consciousness, his occasional muttered words becoming clearer.
‘Tell her...no...must not...angel...stupid to care... Send the letter...she’ll know then...so sweet...’
Pearl, filled with a wild hope, grasped his hands and said urgently, ‘What is it, my dear? Were you trying to tell me something?’
The mutters ceased, and Pearl sat back on her heels, disappointed. Was she the woman he spoke of? Did he see her as an angel, and sweet? Was the letter the one that he had entrusted to her, and did it mention another woman, after all? Jealousy rocketed up to burst in her brain, shattering her composure, then died away. What right had she to feel such an emotion? J.G. had never said a word to indicate a more than brotherly affection for her. She, like so many others, was just his ‘girl dear.’
She stroked his unruly hair, more thickly peppered with grey than she had realised, smoothed the frown from his forehead with her thumb, noting how beaked his nose had become, how his eyes had sunk deep into their sockets. He was so thin. If he didn’t waken and eat soon... To distract herself, she reviewed her treatment, examining each move to see whether she could have done more for him. But she knew she had done her best, given her limited supplies. His recovery now lay with the Gods.
The old tong called in to see the patient and shook his head, obviously believing another coffin would be ordered before long. He explained Li Po’s wish to go home, in the event of his death in Australia, and the arrangements made for his remains to be held with others awaiting transport to Melbourne and temporary interment before shipment back to China. Pearl absently thanked him and returned to her patient.
J.G. had begun to mutter again, no names, but a reiteration of his love for some woman, begging her to come to him, crying out his need for her comforting presence. Holding back emotion, Pearl bathed his face, smoothed his hair, tried to reach him with words, but in vain. He could not be comforted. At last she could stand it no longer.
If she was unable to help J.G. she might at least assuage her own need to know whom he summoned from the depths of unconsciousness. Taking the letter from inside her jacket, she read the superscription - to Messrs Tomlinson and Bryan of Pitt Street, Sydney Town. Could she violate his confidence and break the seal? There was a time when she would not have paused, would have been amazed at her hesitation. She put the letter back in her pocket and wept uncontrollably. She moaned like an animal unable to vocalise its pain. Life had dealt her many blows, but none like this – to watch the man she loved with a frightening depth and passion, dying, and to be unable to help; and never to know whether he loved her in return.
A weak voice penetrated her misery and she raised her head.
‘Pearl, I feel sick.’
She rushed to the bed in time to help him turn his head and rid himself of blood he had swallowed. When he lay back, exhausted, she found herself smiling foolishly at him. ‘You’re awake!’
‘Haven’t I just proved it? Brought up gizzards and all, I’m sure.’ His own smile was a pale echo of the old one, yet it was there. He inspected her more closely and frowned. ‘What’ve you been doing to yourself? Have you been crying?’
‘Never you mind, you busybody. Drink this water then just lie still while I fetch you some good broth to get your strength up.’ She darted away, all the spring back in her step, her misery dispelled like mist in the mid-day sun.
Hurrying back, she felt almost afraid to look inside the cabin in case she had somehow been mistaken, and J.G. still lay in a stupor from which he might never recover. But her patient waited, staring anxiously at the doorway, as if he, too, had his fears.
She fed him careful spoonsful, not letting him talk, while giving him all the news she thought he would want to hear. She told him about the removal of the wounded, the escape of the ringleaders and rumours that Governor Hotham would deal severely with the culprits.
J.G.’s mouth tightened. ‘I don’t remember the action at all. I can recall saying goodbye to you and marching off with the men to the stockade, and that’s it. A blank.’
‘It’s not an uncommon sequel to a head wound. You may never remember how you came to be hit. The tong says you were found wandering empty-handed, in imminent danger of falling into one of the pits.’
‘I’ve lost my guns, then? A pity.’
‘That fact probably saved you from arrest.’
‘We were let down, girl dear.’ His anger and frustration showed in his voice. ‘Hundreds slipped away the night before the attack, their hot blood turned to ice at the thought of a fight. Some were the fiercest malcontents of all, the ones who urged us on, then left us.’
Pearl said gently, ‘It couldn’t have had any other outcome, my dear. We must just wait to see what action the Governor will take. There’s talk of considerable support for the miners amongst the populace in Melbourne. Hotham might find he can’t have his way, after all.’
J.G seemed to lose interest, falling asleep within minutes.
He woke ravenous, and within two days began tottering about the immediate vicinity of the cabin with the assistance of a walking cane. A week after that he threw away the cane. He had been horrified to hear about Pearl’s part in the uprising, attributing it to compassion for the wounded. He also shared her sorrow at the loss of her brother. Despite her belief in each person’s right to make his own decisions, and to bear with the consequences, she still felt guilty; while the parting of her last family tie, the lost opportunity to know Li Po, added to her burden.
In explaining her brother’s appearance at the stockade, she said, ‘The same urge sent me there, to watch over –’ She stopped, realising what she had been about to say.
J.G’s wits had not suffered from the blow on the head. He looked at her sternly, ‘Go on. “To watch over...?”‘
‘I meant, to help the wounded.’
‘I can always tell when you’re lying, girl dear. You followed me, didn’t you? Why? Did you think I couldn’t take care of myself?’
The blood rushed to Pearl’s head, then drained away. She sat down suddenly on a rock, dropping the kindling she had gathered on their walk. ‘Don’t interrogate me. I haven’t done anything wrong.’ She had meant to snap at him, but sounde
d merely piteous. She was disgusted, and terrified that she had revealed herself.
J.G. sat down beside her, threading her fingers through his. ‘Look at me, Pearl.’
Never a coward, Pearl raised her face to find herself only inches from his. The blue eyes, deep-set amidst laughter lines, held hers.
‘You followed because you thought I might need you, because you cared about me.’ His voice hardly rose above a whisper. ‘What have I done to deserve this?’
Pearl thought about burnt boats and decided she had no choice. ‘You’ve just been yourself, J.G. I could not wait back at Golden Point not knowing what was happening to you, or if my being there could make a difference to whether you lived or died. As it turned out, I might have saved myself the trouble, and Li Po his life. But I could not have known. Nor could I let you go, perhaps to your death, then wait for some stranger to tell me.’
‘You love me?’
‘Yes. But you need not do anything about it.’
‘The Hell I needn’t! Girl, haven’t I loved you from the moment I set eyes on your cool little face so ready to suspect me of nameless things, and so angry when I wrote the expose on the hospital? Haven’t I turned myself inside out trying not to take you in my arms and kiss you when you’re spitting fire at me? Glory, Hallelujah! I’ve come out first in life’s lottery, after all.’ He hugged Pearl to him, covering her face with kisses until she protested, freeing herself to fling her arms up around his neck and plant her mouth firmly on his.
J.G.’s joyful shout echoed in her own heart, which seemed to swell with gladness, filling her chest to bursting point. She was the woman in the letter, the woman he’d called for in his delirium. She was his beloved, and he hers for the rest of her life.
It took her all of half an hour to come back to her senses. And then she remembered. Detaching herself from J.G’s arms she stood up. ‘I forgot. I was so happy, I forgot.’
‘What did you forget, dear heart?’
‘Come back with me to the cabin. I will show you.’ The light had gone from her face, and Pearl drooped as she led the way, her spirits utterly cast down at the thought of what she must tell J.G., must reveal to him.
Inside, she dropped the flour sack over the door and lit the lamp, then faced him, a sheen of tears blurring her sight.
‘The man who tortured me did more than cut my face.’ Pulling her jacket aside, she raised her shirt, exposing herself from the waist up. At the same time she released the cord of her trousers, and as they fell around her ankles she watched J.G’s expression change to horror.
Pearl said, evenly, ‘The scars are ugly, are they not? And a woman without nipples is not a pretty sight. But what you cannot see is worse. I have been damaged internally. I can still give a man pleasure, but I cannot ever give him a child.’ Covering herself, she turned away from him. ‘So you see, my dear, I will not hold you to your word. It would be unfair to us both. Pity would destroy us in the end.’
J.G. stood utterly still. She hoped he would not come to her. She couldn’t have born it.
Then he said in a broken voice, ‘I don’t feel pity. I feel an unutterable rage at the destruction of beauty, and the deepest respect for your honesty and courage. Pearl, you must know that love is based on far more than physical attraction.’
‘It plays its part.’
‘So it does. But I will tell you another thing. The act of love, the coming together of a man and woman whose hearts are attuned means the giving of pleasure to both. Who taught you to please a man and not think of yourself?’
She whirled on him. ‘What chance did I have to learn of love between man and woman – used from the age of five as a bed toy, a comfort pillow, a thing, an object? What do I know of pleasure for a woman?’
He moved then, taking her in his arms and holding her while she fought him, furiously, hopelessly.
‘Let me go. Do not do this to me. You think I have no heart to be broken.’
J.G. kissed her hair. ‘I think you have the greatest heart I’ve ever known, my beauty, and I’m honoured above all men to have your love. Now, let me show you what I mean.’
Having brought herself to the point of exhaustion, Pearl could only let him lift her onto the bed and submit to the gentle kissing and stroking that started a tingling response in her nerve ends. Every hair felt sensitised as J.G. removed her clothes with loving attention to each limb, to each fingertip and toe. Waves of pleasure rose and broke over her, generated by his lips and hands as they travelled over her body, kissing her scars, caressing her as she had never been caressed before, while he murmured his love, telling her how infinitely precious she was to him, how much more beautiful than any other woman he had known. And finally, on a crescendo of passion, her throat opening in a delighted cry, Pearl believed him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Sunlight glinted off the harbour waters like splinters of glass, hurting the eyes. It was February’s tail end, a day of blazing heat, yet Jo-Beth had chosen to walk through the Botanical Gardens once more out to Mrs Macquarie’s Chair. She wore her coolest muslin with only two petticoats, and a pretty, frilled sunshade and wide-brimmed straw hat protected her face. All the same, she was glad to gain the shelter of the trees.
Looking out towards the twin headlands she was thinking of Pearl, who would return any day now, with her husband, J.G. It was so extraordinary, almost incredible, for those two to fall in love with one another. There must be a story behind it. She could barely contain her curiosity. Would Pearl want to go back on the wards, or would she settle down to – No. Pearl and domesticity did not go together. She would find a cause, something to take the place of her search for her brother who had died in the recent rebellion on the goldfields. That was another odd thing. Pearl’s letter had been so brief and unsatisfying, tantalising, in fact. Just a notification of her marriage, her brother’s death and her imminent return. Infuriating.
There was a coastal steamer moving up harbour now. It could easily have come from Melbourne, and Pearl and J.G. might be aboard. If she had a spyglass she could read its name. Not that it would tell her much, as Pearl had neglected to say what vessel she would be on.
She could be almost as aggravating as that little wretch, Lucy, recently so evasive, so unresponsive. Hardly more than a child, she gave herself the airs of an experienced woman, flaunting her handful of youthful conquests and generally behaving like a hoyden. Paul spoilt her, of course. He really should find someone capable of training the girl while keeping her in line. Jo-Beth chuckled. It had done the minx good to find Paul was not her personal property. Still, there was no real harm in her. Marriage and responsibility would come soon enough.
She sighed, remembering that spring day when she had cast aside her own chance of marriage and an established future. It had been the right choice. Alan McAndrews was too good a man to be given second best. But she could not help a small regretful thought for the life she had dismissed. Nothing had changed for her. She still spent her days in what she could only term drudgery, despite the undoubted reward of seeing a sick person recover under her skilled attention. And working with children was a joy.
Children. She longed for her own. Working in the wards she’d discovered this buried yearning which could not be smothered. Sometimes she dreamed of golden-haired children with Ethan’s eyes – children of the imagination who would never be born, but who had a strange reality for her. It was what drew her to Lucy, so much a child still in her wilfulness and naivety.
Thrusting aside these thoughts, she rose and opened her parasol. It had been a mistake to come here, bringing back unhappy memories. She would go down into the town and inspect the latest modes in Mr David Jones’ windows. It was always cheering to admire a well-feathered chapeau, even without any intention of buying it.
~*~
Autumn leaves were thick underfoot and the influx of early winter ills had begun. Jo-Beth was barely able to spare time to snatch a cup of afternoon tea on the day when a message came that she was wanted
in the lobby. Sighing at the interruption to her few minutes’ break, she smoothed her dress and went downstairs. In the doorway a giant of a man was outlined against the sunlit opening, his shadow reaching out to where she stood.
‘Jo-Beth?’ The voice, deep, unforgettable, trembled with emotion.
Her hand went to her throat. She stood paralysed, staring up into brown eyes glittering with tears, into a familiar golden-bearded face alight with love.
‘Don’t you know me? Have I changed so much?’ The man’s voice cracked.
Jo-Beth’s lips moved soundlessly. Her frozen throat muscles strove to move. ‘Ethan,’ she said, finally.
‘My dearest.’ The two words, so simple, held a world of longing.
So many times she had envisaged this moment, in her dreams, and in daylight reverie. This time she knew he was real. This was Ethan, aged, changed, but it truly was her Ethan. Some miracle had happened to bring her love back to her.
He held out his arms. Jo-Beth took one step towards him and was swept up into a crushing embrace.
Long moments later she emerged from the maelstrom of emotion to hear Elly urging her to take Captain Petherbridge to the Matron’s Office, where they could be private. Still dazed, she led Ethan upstairs, his arm clamped about her waist, her feet seeming to skim the boards as she moved. The door closed behind them and she turned in Ethan’s hold.
Now the first shock had passed, and there were inevitable repercussions. Suddenly she felt oddly hollow, almost panic-stricken. Where was the delight, the overwhelming joy that had swamped her only moments ago?
‘Jo-Beth?’ His warm, familiar voice soothed her momentarily. ‘I should have given you warning, sent a letter. But I couldn’t wait, my love. I just couldn’t wait.’
Conflicting feelings surged in her. He had waited, more than two years, while she had kept faith, refused to believe he’d been lost, and suffered like the damned. Angry regret warred with an undercurrent of excitement building slowly, filling that hollow space, bringing a flush to her cheeks, a tingling in the finger-tips, a total vitality she hadn’t experienced for so long. It was like being whirled on a child’s roundabout, exhilarating, frightening.
A HAZARD OF HEARTS Page 35