Australian Odyssey

by Pauline Saull

  She’d put two of the smallest comfortable chairs in the parlor, each with a side table topped by candelabras holding thick candles and stood, arms folded, a smile of satisfaction on her face.

  Her home.

  The men were stacking the excess furniture in the barn. Ella wandered out onto the front porch, which at the side overlooked a small well-stocked flower and vegetable garden, and she collected a bunch of yellow flowers for her kitchen table.

  “Excuse me, madam?”

  Ella looked up.

  “We’re going now. We covered the extra furnishings with all the canvas sheets we had on the cart. Is everything else to your satisfaction?”

  “I’m very happy with your hard work.” Ella took two sovereigns from her pocket and pressed them into his hand. “Thank you.” She smiled, seeing his stunned expression. “You’ve earned it. Make sure you water your horses.”

  The light was beginning to fade as the men climbed aboard the cart. Ella waved until they’d turned out of her gate. The sky, indigo and lilac with a scud of creamy white cloud floating across, darkened. Above the wood dividing the properties there came a thin swirl of blue, a faint smell of wood smoke.

  Ella’s stomach fluttered with excitement…and fear.

  “I’m not going,” she said aloud to the empty kitchen. “No. I’m not!”

  Dorothy had left cheese and a jug of milk in the cool box on the back porch along with a loaf of bread. She could manage on that for one night. Besides, with her stomach churning so uncomfortably, she’d be unable to eat anything he served, so what was the point?

  »»•««

  Lucas waited. He’d prepared steaks with lemon juice and pepper and stoked the fire beneath the grill to a high heat. A baked damper sat in the tin, and a selection of vegetables from the garden, broad beans, asparagus, and beetroot, which he’d blanched in hot water, were ready to go on the grill with the meat.

  He checked his pocket watch once more. She’d agreed on six o’clock, it was now almost half past and he knew she wouldn’t be coming. Jonnie walked through the gate from the vegetable garden, a bunch of onions in his hand.

  “Need some?” He held them up.

  “No thanks, Jonnie.” Lucas’ gaze wandered to the trees bordering Woomba. “Mrs. Bickerstaff clearly has chosen not to come for supper. There’s a steak going wanting. Why don’t you join me instead?”

  “Thanks. I will. Maybe she was tired and fell asleep when the men had finished.”

  ‘Mm.” A wry smile playing around Lucas’s mouth, he rubbed his chin. “Maybe, Jonnie, though I doubt it. She’s one heck of a woman,” he mused, throwing the steaks on the fire. “Even so, that’s never happened to me before.”

  “What?”

  “A female turning me down, I’m not used to it.” He grinned, blue eyes glinting. “Little does she know it, but the Widow Bickerstaff has thrown a gauntlet right at my feet.” His grin broadened. “One I’ll definitely have to pick up!”

  “Aw, Boss! Women!”

  »»•««

  Seated at the table in the kitchen, Ella picked at the bread and cheese. Picking up her glass, she wandered onto the front porch and sat in the rocker, looking out over her very own acres, the trees laden with fruit. She sighed.

  Forget Lucas Helm. I don’t need a man.

  The faint aroma of roasting meat drifted briefly over and her stomach rumbled. She thought she heard a deep laugh and leaned forward, but there was nothing, only the silence broken by the last of the roosting birds as they settled.

  She gazed skyward, now regretting the decision to stay away, depriving herself of a juicy, succulent steak and his company.

  “Damn the man!” Ella said with feeling.

  She thought back to the suggestion of supper and recalled the look of male satisfaction in his eyes when she nodded acceptance, almost like the cat with the mouse, she thought.

  “Ah, well.” Ella rose and walked to the paddock. After ensuring Marmaduke had straw and water, she returned to the cottage and locked the door.

  In her bedroom, lighting a lantern, she brushed her hair and washed from the bowl and jug on the nightstand. Picking out one of her finer cotton nightdresses, she donned it and climbed between the clean cool linen sheets with a sigh of utter contentment.

  Lucas Helm, she decided, would be dealt with how she chose. She was strong, more than able to deal with any weakening female emotions which may threaten to get the better of her. Already tonight she felt she’d made a clear statement to him on where she stood. He might consider himself the most eligible bachelor around, but Ella Bickerstaff would not be swayed by the enticement of a well-cooked steak by any man.

  A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she settled down. There could be no disputing the fact she’d felt an instant attraction, but Ella had determination and Lucas Helm had a lot to learn. He needed to be taught a lesson.

  She slipped into sleep on what she considered to be the happiest night of her life.

  Chapter Six

  Up early the following morning to another beautiful clear blue day, Ella collected some of the money she hadn’t deposited in the bank from beneath the loose floorboard under her bed. She needed provisions, a sturdy steed, and cotton dresses. Also, she must find a woodworker, if plans for a more efficient fruit press were to be utilized, enquiries with regard to the making of a press for the fruit were also urgent, as was the need for the purchase of glass bottles.

  Excitement raced through her. Freedom—the fact that she could make decisions without forever asking a husband’s permission, dress to be comfortable, in a manner she liked. The ridiculous low-cut dresses Thomas had favored would soon be disposed of. Already her silk stockings and heavy corsetry were in the bottom of the trunk. They would never be worn again. Her first visit would be to Mrs. Rusting, the dressmaker Dorothy had recommended.

  Anticipation put a spring in her step as she walked to the paddock to collect Marmaduke and the cart.

  »»•««

  Mrs. Rusting’s ‘High Quality Clothing and Dressmaking’ shop was situated down a side street among other shops and cottages. Ella stood for a while, admiring the tasteful display of day and evening dresses in the large shop window before entering. The shop bell tinkled, and a small rotund lady with the reddest hair Ella had ever seen approached, a welcoming smile on her face.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Welcome to my humble shop. Mrs. Bickerstaff, I do believe? Oh, don’t look so surprised my dear. Nothing stays a secret around here for very long! A young attractive wid…woman arriving in town is news on everyone’s lips, don’t you know. May I add my sincere condolences on your loss?”

  Ella nodded. “Thank you.” She looked around the well-stocked shop. “I would like three, maybe four, everyday dresses in the lightest cotton, and one in a more formal, presentable style.”

  “Ah, yes, well I have the most adorable cottons in from America for day wear.” She waved her hands at the stacked shelves. “It is just a matter of choosing the colors. For daytime, I would suggest the new loose-fitting style. It has wide short sleeves and not too full a skirt. In this heat all that material swinging on one’s legs can be quite tiring.”

  Ella smiled and pondered a moment, looking at the shelves. “I think the blue and yellow stripe, the pink flower, the lilac check, and the polka dot. The blue brocade for evening will be most suitable. Yes, I think they will do very well.”

  “Good. I’d say an excellent choice. So all I have to do is take your measurements.”

  Ella held her arms wide as the tape slid around her waist. “How long do you envisage I will have to wait for them, Mrs. Rusting?”

  “I should have them all done by the end of next week.”

  “So soon? Have you a small army back there?”

  “Six girls, I did have seven but Coralee Jones, one of my best had to finish as her eyes trouble her. It’s the intricate work some women insist on. Can’t understand it myself. What we need is stuff we can wash and dr
y in a day, don’t you know? I shall miss her, she was a good worker. I do hope she soon finds suitable work. She’s married but the wicked husband disappeared years ago so she supports herself.”

  “Ah, and is this lady looking at the moment for other employment? I will need extra help quite soon.”

  “Goodness! Twenty inches. Once, long ago I had a waist such as yours. Coralee? Yes, I do believe she is looking. Why don’t you call on her? She lives right next door in the yellow cottage.”

  “Yes. Yes, I certainly will.” After leaving a substantial deposit for her new dresses Ella bade Mrs. Rusting good day, left the shop, walked down the neatly-edged path of the adjoining cottage, and knocked on the door.

  It was opened by a shy-looking young woman, whom Ella judged to be of thirty or more years.

  “Can I help you?” she said, a small puzzled frown creasing her forehead.

  “Coralee? My name is Ella Bickerstaff. I’ve just been measured for dresses next door and Mrs. Rusting said she thought you may be looking for work?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact I am, yes.”

  Ella smiled. “Then maybe you’d be interested in working for me. I’ve bought the Woomba fruit farm and envisage increasing production. To that I’d of course need reliable help. I don’t think it would be the sort of work to put any strain on your eyes. And,” she said as she peered closer, “I think the Golden Eye Ointment I have may be beneficial to you. Will you come to Woomba?”

  Coralee reached out and took Ella’s arm. “Come inside, please. You’re the answer to my prayers! Take a seat, Mrs. Bickerstaff.”

  “Thank you, what a lovely room. Let me explain a little of my plan. I intend producing large quantities of cordial which will be quite heavy work, I wouldn’t expect you to do that of course, I shall have to look for a young boy of fifteen or sixteen to do the lifting. The job I could offer you would be helping me feed the fruit into the press, bottling and labelling. Do you think you’d like to do it?”

  “I should, very much, Ma’am.”

  “Good. One thing if we are to work together. You must call me Ella.”

  Coralee smiled, showing surprisingly pretty teeth. “Very well, Ella.”

  “The wage will be two pounds ten shillings a week to start. And what about transport out to Woomba?”

  “I’m used to walking. That will be no problem.”

  “Mrs. Rusting tells me there is a missing husband,” Ella said carefully. “There won’t be any trouble if he returns to find you working?”

  Coralee put a hand over her mouth as she giggled. “No chance of that! He told me seven and a half years ago he was off to work in the mines in the West and I haven’t seen hide or hair of him since! No. I don’t want that one back, thank you. Nor any other.”

  Ella laughed. “I agree. Women can manage perfectly well without men. I think you and I will get along just fine, Coralee. Can you start Tuesday?”

  “I’ll be there as early as you need me!”

  »»•««

  After the satisfactory meeting with Coralee, Ella sought out the carpenter’s workshop. He, intrigued by her innovative design idea, suggested a few modifications to a large apparatus which he showed her, stored at the back of his shop.

  “This was started many years ago by my father, he intended pressing the huge amounts of grapes he grew but never got around to doing it. I think with a few alterations here and there it could serve you well. As it will be heavy, I suggest we attach it to a sturdy bench set at a slight angle allowing you to load plenty of fruit in. The juice can then run into vats beneath, which I can provide also, lidded, of course. Excellent idea. I should have all of that ready for delivery by next week. Now,” he said, licking the tip of his pencil, “the price for my hard work?” He wrote down a figure on a piece of paper and showed it to Ella.

  Her eyes widened. “I may be a woman, Mr. Jackson, but I will not be taken advantage of!”

  The carpenter had the grace to blush. “Ha, ha, I was testing! Would five guineas be more to your liking then?”

  “I find that much more agreeable. And tell me, Mr. Jackson, I need to purchase a large number of glass bottles. Can you advise me?”

  “My dear lady, I have just the man for you. My brother-in-law works at the Adelaide Glass Works. Shall I ask him to call on you?”

  “Please do. Any day this week, I’ll be around. Good day, Mr. Jackson.”

  Exhilarated with her business, Ella let Marmaduke drink at the trough before setting off for the livery stables. He lifted his head resignedly.

  She rubbed his neck. “Don’t worry old boy. You won’t have to drag the cart much longer.” At the livery, tying Marmaduke in the shade, Ella sought out the blacksmith.

  He had a young, strong piebald horse who would be very suitable for the job, he assured her.

  “He’s a good one, Ma’am and so his price is three guineas.” He showed her the lovely animal in his stall.

  Ella felt a tug at her heartstrings as two large brown eyes regarded her.

  “Mm.” It was a little more than she wanted to pay, but there didn’t seem to be anything else on offer, and already she was more than a little in love with him. “Very well. I’ll take him,” she said. Placing her lips close to the quivering nostrils, she whispered, “Star, will be your name.”

  The blacksmith offered to change the harnessing over and feed and water both animals, so Ella arranged to call back for them at six thirty. With Dorothy’s address in her hand, she began the walk two blocks back from Victoria Street. Halfway down she stopped to watch a young mother tuck a tiny baby into a wicker carriage. She then leaned over and kissed the baby’s face and Ella’s breath caught in her throat. She started walking.

  What would it feel like to hold such a tiny soft body close to your breast, she wondered? To breathe in the smell of your very own child, to watch it learn to smile, talk, and grow surrounded by love must be the most marvelous experience, she thought. How I would love one. The young woman walked past, her gaze fixed on her infant, and Ella felt an emptiness like a hunger pang strike her. In all her years of marriage to Thomas, the idea of having a child had not been something she’d dwelled on. She had, in fact, steered clear of women of their acquaintance who had children, so this new, bleak feeling troubled her.

  She strode on, head down, and told herself it was ridiculous to now feel the need for something she couldn’t have. To procreate a child one needed a man, and as she’d vowed…never again…there didn’t appear to be a remote possibility of motherhood for her.

  Ella sighed heavily. I hope, she thought, I’m not going to turn into a shrewish spinster! The idea brought a wry smile to her face. She turned into Park Terrace and spotted Dorothy weeding the small front garden of a tidily proportioned wooden cottage.

  “Good day,” Ella called.

  “Ella, my dear! What a lovely surprise, and a good excuse to stop for tea. Come inside where it’s cool. Goodness, it’s a hot one today. How is your fair English skin coping with this heat?”

  “Quite well. Though I have to admit I use a cream which stops me getting color too quickly.”

  “Well it certainly suits you. You’re glowing!”

  Inside the small cottage, Dorothy proudly showed off her new home.

  “It’s enchanting, Dorothy.” Looking at her, Ella thought she appeared to have shed ten years since the move.

  “Come, sit down. I want to hear all your news. But wait until I bring refreshments.” She disappeared, returning with a tray holding two large glasses of lemon tea and a small cake on a plate.

  “Apple and cinnamon,” she said, handing a plate to Ella. “Shoot,” she said.

  “Well I’ve ordered a new press and hopefully I shall have a visit from the glass factory agent this week.”

  “My, you do have the bit between your teeth. Ah, a press! And bottles! Such good ideas. I knew it…just knew you’d tackle the problems. That first day you mentioned buying Woomba, I said to myself, Dorothy, that young woman is
going to do so well. How wonderful. I shall have to come and see how everything works.”

  “And—um, I’ve also bought a horse, a piebald called Star. I thought him a stronger animal.”

  “Good. Marmaduke is an amiable little creature. He’ll enjoy the company of another animal.” Dorothy took a sip of tea. “And your neighbor…any further news of him?”

  Ella felt color rush to her face. “Yes…yes, he actually called at the house yesterday to kindly invite me to dinner last night, and I sort of agreed.” She wiped a cake crumb from her mouth. “But I didn’t go.”

  “Oh, my goodness! That won’t have gone down well at all. A woman refusing Lucas Helm. He’ll be chomping at the bit.” Dorothy laughed. “I really must stop using these equine sayings!”

  Ella laughed too. “I did,” she added, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes, “deep down want to go. Purely for interesting company you understand? Though I must admit, I do find him extremely attractive.”

  Dorothy nodded. “That can’t be denied. But take care, Ella. He isn’t a man to be trifled with. If he decides he wants something he’ll do all he can to get it.”

  Ella frowned. “You mean the lake?”

  “Not just that. He might want the woman also.”

  “No.” The laughter left Ella’s eyes. “I’ve belonged to a man once. It will never happen again. That doesn’t mean I would dismiss a friendship with Lucas, though whether that would ever be possible with such a man…”

  “You may be right. And I think I understand your fear of further commitment after an unsatisfactory marriage, but surely not all men are the same? Though I can’t speak from experience, for contrary to what everyone thinks I have never been married, simply allowing ‘Mrs.’ to be attached to me for convenience sake. However, getting back to Lucas, I feel that although he puts on a front of the tough young rancher—well, I suspect beneath that exterior beats the heart of a passionate man.”

  The words, though well meant, nevertheless caused Ella’s skin to ripple nervously.

  “Passion and Lucas together don’t bear thinking about, Dorothy! And so you speak kindly of him, yet I thought you didn’t like him?”