There was nothing to be done. He bowed over her hand, assured her untruthfully that he was not at all inconvenienced, retrieved his coat and walked slowly up the hill to the cottage.
The change of plan had left him at a loose end. In two days he would be gone. He had wanted to see Jane before he left and to explain what had happened on the night of Hagwood’s ball. No doubt she had heard the rumours, spread by Thornton, he suspected. He wanted her to know the truth of it and had already sent her a letter of apology.
This morning, Cash had received Jane’s reply, written in a strong and individual hand, inviting him to the Somers’ card party that evening.
And now this.
Presumably her parents had decided he was getting too friendly with their daughter. No doubt they had their sights on someone a lot grander and richer than he was. His lip twisted derisively. Someone like Thomas Birkett, perhaps, with his well-publicised baronetcy in the offing.
So be it. He found it irritating but no more than that. He had been attracted to her, undeniably. He still was. She was attractive, if too inclined to want her way in all things. At least she was alive. On the other hand, it was far too soon to think of settling down – which he had begun to suspect was what Jane wanted – and if her parents disapproved he certainly wasn’t going to start a war to prove them wrong.
By the time Cash got back to the house a blustery wind from the sea had brought a cold, driving rain that turned the path to clinging mud and soaked his feet and stockings. Just what he needed to round off a perfect evening.
He went indoors. The wind wrenched the door from his grasp and slammed it against the wall. He wrestled it shut and then noticed there was a stillness in the house, as though no one were at home, although a fire was burning in the grate.
‘Anyone there?’
Silence, then Cuddy appeared in the doorway.
He had never heard what transpired between his father and Mrs Clark but between them they had fixed her up with a bed of sorts – a crib made from boxes in the outhouse. Cuddy was still very much on probation but thus far there had been no trouble.
He looked at her. At least she was clean, although she looked more battered than ever now her bruises were turning blue.
‘Mrs Clark’s down the store‚’ she said.
The government store supplied most of the staples of the colony’s diet.
‘Where’s my father?’
‘He’s gone away.’
Cash frowned. ‘Gone where?’
‘Word come in today. Seems a bunch of runaways has started raiding settlers up near the Hawkesbury River, I think Mrs Clark called it. The captain’s taken his company up there. They left couple of hours ago.’
The tiny Hawkesbury River settlement was on the outer limits of the settled areas, twenty miles northwest of Parramatta.
‘Did he say when he’d be back?’
‘Not to me he didn’t. He probably don’ know.’
Cash sat in a chair, fished out the key his father had given him and handed it to her. ‘Get me a drink, won’t you?’
She fetched the bottle and put it on the table at his side.
‘And a glass.’
She looked uncertain. ‘I don’t know where …’
‘Out the back.’
She went and he heard her ferreting about. Presently she came back, glass in hand, and gave it to him. He looked at it. It was smeared and he handed it back to her.
‘Wipe it.’
She huffed but did as he asked.
‘Thank you.’ He poured himself a drink and sipped it reflectively. ‘How are you settling down?’
‘Oright. I s’pose.’
‘Sit down a minute.’
She did so, apprehensively, perched on the very edge of the chair.
‘It’s different from what you’re used to. But tell me, is it any better? Or do you think it will get better, in time?’
‘Don’ rightly know.’
‘Because if it isn’t, you’d be better off going back to your old life.’
Blood flared in her pale cheeks. ‘That’s what you bin wantin’ from the first, i’n’ it? To get rid o’ me?’
‘It is not at all what I want. Believe it or not, I want what is best for you. I can’t believe that going back to the life you had before can possibly be the best for anyone but it’s your life and your decision. If you don’t like it here, it doesn’t matter what I think. You’re free to leave whenever you like.’
‘Why should I want to do that? What your brother done for me …’ She stopped, her face colouring. ‘An’ you, of course. I’ll never forget it, so ’elp me.’
He was pleased; embarrassed too. He said nothing.
‘I dunno what it’ll be like when you’re gone, that’s all. You gone and your brother up the river …’
‘Mrs Clark will be here and my father, when he gets back. They’re not Dan Hawkins – you won’t need protecting from them.’
‘But you ’n’ Master Jack, you saved me. They’d a’ done me in, you let ’em. That Thornton would a’ fixed that. Look at you now, sittin’ and talkin’. I’ll miss that.’
Cash poured himself another drink. ‘You hardly know me …’
He sneezed. For the first time she noticed the condition of his stockings and shoes.
‘You’re all wet!’
‘The rain caught me, coming up the hill. I’ll not melt.’
‘You don’ wanner die of cold, maybe you’d better take ’em off.’
‘Maybe I should,’ he agreed without moving.
‘Here. Let me.’
She knelt at his feet, drew off his shoes and then his stockings. Her fingers were warm and smooth on his skin.
‘Wait‚’ she told him.
He lay back in the chair, eyes closed, the rum he had drunk buzzing pleasantly in his ears.
She came back with a towel and chafed his feet and legs until the blood was running warmly through them once more.
It was good to sit here, warm and dry, hearing the wind flinging the rain against the windows like bursts of shrapnel, the girl kneeling at his feet. He opened his eyes. She was watching him. Their eyes met and she looked away.
‘Cuddy‚’ he said. ‘What kind of name is that?’
‘Cordelia‚’ she told him. ‘Me mum’s name.’
She went to stand but he put out his hand to stop her. Through her shirt, her shoulder was warm to his touch. He moved his hand to the soft skin at the side of her throat. She was very young but more experienced – in one area – than most people ever were. Plenty would say she was shop-soiled. Maybe she was. It didn’t matter. She had seen and done disgusting things. She had been drunken, blasphemous, a willing victim of corruption. A whore. None of it mattered. She was a girl, kneeling at his feet.
His hand curved around the angle of her jaw. ‘Mrs Clark say when she’d be back?’
Her chin moved against his palm as she shook her head.
‘She’ll probably wait until the rain eases‚’ he said.
There was no guarantee of it. She might be back at any minute.
Gently, without haste, Cuddy moved away from his hand. She stood up. ‘I’ll put these wet things to dry.’
His hand enclosed her wrist. It was so thin. He could feel the bones beneath the skin, the pulse, like a bird, fluttering. He released her.
She stood close at his side, making no attempt either to respond or to move away. He smiled up at her lazily, feeling her presence warm and comforting, like the rum, like his dried feet stretched to the fire.
A knock on the door broke the silence.
‘There she is now‚’ Cash said. ‘She’ll have her hands full. Better open the door for her.’
Cuddy went to the door and opened it. The rain, the boisterous dusk, came shouting in at them. Cash looked up at the girl’s sudden exclamation.
In the doorway, framed by the light, were the bonneted features of Jane Somers and Elinor Goodall.
*
Cuddy M
arshall lay in her crib in the outhouse, an old blanket over her, listening to the rain on the roof and waiting for sleep to claim her.
It was the second night she had been here and already she was growing used to it. The outhouse was very dark. The wind whistled and probed under the door but she gave it no heed. She was warm here, and safe.
Last night she had thought of running away. The strangeness of everything scared her. Not the house, not the outhouse that was hardly bigger than a dog kennel. A room was a room. She’d slept in plenty worse in her time. It was being alone that disturbed her. Ever since she could remember, there had always been other people. Three or four to a bed was the rule. She felt naked by herself.
She hadn’t wanted to leave Parramatta with Cash. She’d have sooner stayed with Jack. Jack, who had pulled a gun on Jed Smales to save her. I’ll be good to you, mister. She would have been, too. Fancied him, she did, and not just for what he’d done. Cash was all right, a bit sharp with her, a bit sneery, but Jack …
She turned. The straw-filled palliasse hissed beneath her weight.
When she had left Parramatta with Cash, she had assumed that he would screw her straightaway but nothing had turned out as she expected. Even that Mrs Clark and the captain had been kind to her. In their own way, of course, like she was an object. No real feelings, either for her or against her. Like she wasn’t there at all. She hated it. That was why she’d almost run away. What had stopped her was knowing they wouldn’t have cared if she had. They probably wouldn’t even have noticed.
Cash, though, he was the surprising one. He treated her like she was human. Jack was her favourite but Cash was all right too. Funny he hadn’t tried anything with her. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t though.
Something might have come of it tonight, if those two hadn’t turned up when they did. The look on their faces when they saw what they thought they were seeing – Cash with his shoes and stockings off and a look on his face like they’d caught him with his hand up her skirt. Talk about laugh. And the look they give her. As if they wasn’t all the same, once their clothes was off.
One thing was sure. She’d not have stopped him, if he had tried anything.
*
Cash also lay for a while before sleeping.
Jane’s unexpected arrival had been a disaster. Her reaction had been so extreme that he’d had a job to stop her walking straight out again.
‘You are occupied,’ she said, eyes like sword points. ‘We would not wish to intrude.’
Feeling ridiculous in bare feet, he had taken her by the hand and drawn her gently inside. Elinor had followed, her face one fat smirk.
‘I am astonished to see you here without an escort‚’ Cash said. ‘Especially in this weather. You are very welcome, of course.’
‘La,’ Elinor said. ‘It was Jane’s idea. I could not believe it when she said we must go for a walk. With the rain threatening as well. And then, when we were outside the door –’
‘You talk too much‚’ Jane said.
‘Not at all‚’ Cash intervened. ‘Please go on, Miss Goodall. I am fascinated.’
‘… she said we were coming here. In the dark!’
‘It was not dark‚’ Jane said crossly.
‘It will be when you go back. What will your mother say?’ Revenging himself on her for the looks she had been giving him.
‘I shall tell her we went for a walk.’
‘In the rain.’
‘She will not notice, in any case. The cards go on until late.’
‘Lucky for you.’ He turned his head and smiled in Elinor’s direction. ‘And thank you, Miss Goodall, for accompanying her so bravely.’ Guessing that Elinor would be impervious to irony.
‘My pleasure, sir.’ Eyelashes fluttering.
The two women were dressed for the weather, with cloaks – Jane’s blue, Elinor’s yellow – covering them, but the hems of their dresses were wet and bedraggled from the rain. Their slippers, too, were wet, and the gusting wind had blown strands of hair across their faces.
‘Won’t you sit down?’
Jane looked at the two worn chairs, which was answer enough. ‘We do not intend to stay‚’ she said.
Cuddy made a move to disappear out the back; Cash restrained her with a sharp gesture.
‘May I offer you refreshment?’ he enquired. ‘I don’t know what we have. Probably not a lot, but you’re welcome to what there is.’
Jane looked at the bottle on the floor by the chair. ‘You have rum, I see.’
‘Would you like some?’
A smile, warm as an ice floe, crossed her face. ‘No, thank you.’
‘Cuddy?’
‘Yes, sir?’
Bless her for the sir. ‘See if there’s any wine, won’t you?’
She went through the door into the back of the house.
‘Not much after Hagwood’s Parramatta Palace‚’ Cash said cheerfully. Jack had called it that. Not much after the Judge-Advocate’s house, either, but they had presumably come to see him and not the house. ‘Sit down somewhere‚’ he said. ‘Wherever you like. Liberty Hall, here.’
‘So I see‚’ said Jane, eyeing his bare feet.
‘Got wet‚’ he explained. ‘Was just drying them off when you arrived.’
‘With some help.’
He winked at her. ‘What are servants for?’
It was odd. The more Jane showed her outrage, the more he responded with behaviour that was more outrageous still. He could not take her attitude seriously, yet who knew what might have happened had they not arrived when they did?
‘Please sit down‚’ he said. ‘I hate to see you standing.’
Cuddy came back with a flask of wine and two glasses. On a tray, no less. Heaven knows where she found that. She put the tray down.
‘You’ll stick with rum, will you, sir?’
‘Thank you, Cuddy.’ He couldn’t help himself – he winked at her and was rewarded by a half-smile that touched her lips and vanished.
‘Cuddy?’ he said.
‘Sir?’
‘You might find me some dry shoes and another pair of stockings.’
‘Yes, sir. Where would I find them, sir?’
‘Somewhere in my room. Have a dig around. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.’
She went out again.
‘Liberty Hall is right‚’ Jane said.
Cash was enjoying himself more with every minute, amused more than anything else by her icy disapproval.
‘The way I like it‚’ he said. He poured wine into the two glasses and presented them with proper formality and a slight bow.
Jane sat on the edge of one chair. Elinor followed her lead on the other one. Cash sat on the floor. He filled his glass from the rum bottle.
‘Your good health‚’ he said, lifting his glass. ‘Welcome to my house.’ He drank – a man-sized gulp. ‘Good rum‚’ he said, looking at the bottle.
‘I see you use a glass‚’ Jane said.
‘Should I not?’
‘Since you say this is Liberty Hall‚’ she said, ‘I thought you might drink straight from the bottle.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time if I did.’
The shoes and stockings arrived.
‘If you’ll excuse me?’ He put his feet into the stockings and rolled them up his legs.
‘By all means‚’ Jane said. ‘We make a habit of watching men dress themselves.’
‘Better than watching them undress themselves, I suppose.’
She flushed. ‘Perhaps you should ask your friend about that.’
He looked at her. ‘Friend?’
The glass rang as she put it down. ‘So the stories are true.’
‘What stories are these?’
‘Everyone in the colony is talking about the convict girl you kidnapped from Parramatta.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Hardly kidnapped. She came of her own free will.’
‘How very fortunate for you.’
They looked at ea
ch other, eyes unfriendly.
‘Is that why you came? To see if the tale was true?’
Red spots showed on her cheekbones. ‘I came because we had arranged to meet at my parents’ house this evening. As we had also arranged to meet at the Hagwoods’ reception. You seem to have forgotten both occasions. I begin to understand why.’
‘You understand nothing‚’ Cash said. ‘I went to your house tonight, as we arranged. Your mother sent me packing.’
‘Perhaps she has heard the rumours too.’
‘Then no doubt you will be able to tell her that they are true.’
‘Are they true, Cash?’
‘I thought you had already made up your mind about that.’
‘I am asking you.’
‘Then, yes, they are true. In part.’
Her lips drew tight. ‘I see.’
‘Don’t you want to know which part is true and which is false?’
‘I am not sure I want to hear anything about it at all.’
‘Very well.’
They sat in strained silence while Elinor sighed and fidgeted and wished, no doubt, that she were somewhere else.
‘Tell me‚’ Jane said eventually.
Cash raised an eyebrow and stretched out his newly-stockinged legs. ‘It’s true that she’s a convict.’
‘That is not all she is said to be.’
‘If the story is that she was a harlot in a tavern, that is true too. I met her there when Jack and I stopped for something to eat on our way back from the farm. She accosted us. She was drunk.’
‘Delightful‚’ Elinor breathed, eyes as round as her face, loving every word.
‘I saved her from a beating on that occasion, I remember, or perhaps I only postponed it, I don’t know. Then, the day before yesterday, she asked Jack’s help. She had been badly handled.’
‘And now she is here. The wench who brought the wine just now, she is who we are talking about, I suppose?’
‘Yes, she is. She was attacked by a big bully who hit her a number of times in front of my brother. He did not feel he could allow him to do that, so he stopped him.’
‘What was your role in this?’
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