by Téa Cooper
So, he’d admitted it. For a moment she wanted nothing more than to clasp his warm hand. Tell him she didn’t care who he was, where he came from or where he was going, as long as he stayed. Why couldn’t he have told her from the very beginning? It was outrageous. How could she still see this man as attractive when he threatened everything she held dear? It wasn’t only her heart at stake. It was her family. She mustn’t think of herself. No matter what her body told her, the strange little bumps and swirls in her belly, Mama, her family and Helligen came first. She let out a long drawn-out sigh. ‘If I’d known who you were from the beginning I would never have let you set foot on the property.’
‘I’m aware of that. It’s why I had to lie to you.’
‘Had to lie? No-one has to lie.’ Had he lied to her when he took her down to the river, cradled her against him? She crossed her arms and pulled the jacket of her travelling suit tight across her chest. She’d seen him as a hero, her saviour, and a chivalrous man of honour. What a fool she was.
He had the grace to hang his head. A damp lock of hair behind his ear covered his scar and her fingers still itched to explore it. Cobb boy, seventeen stitches. Would she never learn?
‘Tell me to go and I will.’ His voice was gentle, almost tender.
She couldn’t do it. Until she spoke to Papa they had unfinished business. ‘You may stay at Helligen until I return. I’ll be back in a day or two.’ Of that she was certain. Papa would jump up and down, carry on, then send her back. He’d insist the house was closed and her mother and Anya dragged back to Sydney. The only person to benefit was Violet. The prospect was too dreadful to even contemplate and there was no alternative.
With a rough, rasping sound he cleared his throat.
What was he going to say? That it was all a stupid prank, or worse—goodbye? ‘I don’t want to hear any more. I need to discuss the matter with Papa.’ He would flay her alive when she told him who she’d employed. She had no intention of telling him she might have fallen in love with the man, no intention of telling anyone, ever.
Jim didn’t reply. Despite the surrounding hullabaloo they could be sitting isolated on the old wharf at Helligen—but for the swirling fog of emotion. She didn’t know what to say to him to explain how disappointed she was and how much he’d hurt her. Shattered was closer to the truth.
The steamer sounded a loud whistle from its stack pipe, saving her from herself, and she made her decision. His eyes had lost their golden sparkle and his whole body was encased in an aura of anguish and dismay. Why hadn’t he told her the truth? Why was it so important for him to be at Helligen? Too many unanswered questions. Too much for her to deal with. Too many people’s happiness at stake.
She gave Jim one last, long look. The whistle sounded again and she stood up, smoothing the immaculate skirt of her travelling suit. ‘I have to go, Jim. We’ll discuss this further when I return, after I have spoken to Papa.’ If you’re still there and if he doesn’t chase you off the property with a loaded shotgun.
He stood next to her and placed his hand on her arm. She stared at his lean brown fingers, wanting to grasp them tightly and bring them to her lips.
‘This has nothing to do with you and me, but everything to do with the past and our families,’ he said.
How she wished she could believe him. But for her family, for the past, she might indulge her fantasies, forget that he’d lied to her and run away with him, and never return.
‘My responsibility is to my family.’ She shook her head. ‘I must go.’ She shrugged off his hand and picked up her carpetbag. ‘Goodbye.’
Her muscles cramped as she walked the few feet to the gangplank and when she stepped up her ankle twisted. He was there, reaching for her elbow, holding her fast and keeping her safe. Once she established her balance he gave her elbow the tiniest squeeze as if to encourage her, then dropped his hand. She walked aboard unable to look back.
About twenty people sat crammed on the long bench seats.
‘The ladies’ cabin’s aft.’ One of the crew indicated through to a door at the far end of the cabin. The fetid air seeped through to coil and swirl around her.
She shook her head and clamped her lips together to control the rush of nausea. Instead she made her way to the centre of the deck where the engine formed part of a platform connecting the two paddle boxes. Dropping her bag she cast a quick look over her shoulder and searched the wharf.
He had gone.
She sank onto the pile of crates stacked against the engine house and forced her concentration to the far bank of the river. She wouldn’t look back again, didn’t want to know if he waited on the wharf, and didn’t dare to hope.
The town clock chimed five and despite her first class ticket she chose to stay on the open deck, relishing the harsh reality of the wind and the cold dawn air.
The sun was high as the steamer made its way through the Heads and into Sydney Harbour. As much as India preferred to take the Great North Road and ride, in an emergency this was a far quicker and easier route to Sydney. Within an hour she’d be in the opulent offices of Kilhampton & Bryce at the Quay. A far cry from the wide open spaces of Helligen. Now she’d arrived the idea of sharing her responsibilities and concerns with her father comforted her. Even Cecil might be a help. Peggy did her best but it wasn’t her place. And Violet—well—she let out a puff of breath in competition with the smoke stack. Seeing Violet happy would be the only good thing to come out of this whole mess.
Relying on the familiar routine she disembarked, shunning the attention of the barrow boys and drivers waiting at the wharf. She sidestepped the puddles and stacked cargoes and entered the imposing three-storey brick buildings flanking Circular Quay. As she walked through the bustling offices faces turned and followed her passage between the multitude of desks. When she reached the polished timber door bearing a brass plaque announcing Kilhampton & Bryce, she knocked.
‘Enter.’
Swallowing the lump of disappointment in her throat she turned the handle. If only it was Papa’s voice. It would be so much easier to confess her foolishness to him alone.
‘India, my dear. What a delightful surprise.’ Cecil crossed the room and took her hand between his and squeezed, forcing her fingers into a tight bundle. ‘Come in, sit down. This is quite unexpected. Is Alexander expecting you?’
‘No, I have just disembarked. I took the Waratah from Morpeth this morning.’
‘You must be exhausted. Let me call for some tea, or would you prefer coffee?’
‘Tea would be lovely, thank you.’
While Cecil bustled out calling to his assistant, India arranged her skirts and sat studying the paintings on the walls in an attempt to take her mind off her problems. Clippers racing across the ocean, their sails billowing in the wind, waves whipping their bows; despite the intrinsic beauty of the scenes she’d replace them with the rolling paddocks and the lagoon at home in an instant. She removed her gloves and studied her work-worn hands. What would Jim do? Return to Helligen and stay until she arrived, or leave before he had to confront Papa? As much as she knew she should put Jim behind her she couldn’t let go. He drew her like a dusty moth seeking light.
‘Some tea shortly. I’ve sent a boy to fetch your father. He arrived back yesterday, but he’s still aboard The Cloud.’
India dropped her hands into her lap. ‘I didn’t know he was away.’
‘He was planning to return to Helligen tomorrow, but a few problems with Customs House over our latest shipment of silk from China have delayed him.’
India didn’t know whether to be pleased or angry. If she’d known he was about to come home she wouldn’t have rushed to Sydney. However, it wasn’t just Papa she’d come to see, it was also Cecil. Once and for all she would quell the absurd notion that she should marry him. He was nothing to her, and it was unfair to him to let him believe that once she’d stretched her wings and had her chance she would settle into life as a Sydney matron. Besides, the man who had played her
for a fool had stolen her heart.
He pulled his chair a little closer and leant towards her. ‘I am so delighted to see you.’ Wrinkles fanned out from his eyes as he gave a benign smile. ‘You must stay in town for a while. I want to show you off.’ He reached out for her hand and she buried it in the pocket of her skirt, and then removed it, regretting her reaction.
‘How is the lovely Violet?’
‘Violet is very well. She’d prefer to be in Sydney though. I asked her to stay at home and keep an eye on things.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Cecil gave a knowing nod. ‘Your mother. Poor dear, is she any better?’
India brightened and sat up, pleased the conversation had turned from Cecil’s patent admiration. ‘I think Mama is a little better. She appears to be taking more interest in the world outside her room.’ Just how much interest and why, she wouldn’t share. Explaining to Papa that Jim’s appearance had sparked a very definite improvement in Mama’s demeanour would be hard enough. Her shoulders dropped.
‘My dear, you must be so tired after that horrid journey on that smoky little steam kettle. Your father will be along shortly and you are most welcome to stay with us at Potts Point. Mother would be thrilled to have your company.’
India stifled her gasp of dismay with a yawn. Tea parties on the lawn, visits to the dressmaker, mindless conversation and preening girls intent only on snagging the richest husband they could find. She should have allowed Violet to come after all.
With a bang the door swung open to reveal her father, tanned and strong, dressed in breeches and sea boots and one of the soft cotton shirts he favoured.
‘India! What are you doing here?’ He swung his arms wide and she collapsed into his embrace, his familiar scent of sandalwood, salt and fresh air wrapped around her and sheltered her. She rested her cheek against his shirt and closed her eyes in no doubt that she had made the right decision. His wisdom and strength would help resolve the massive mess she’d created.
‘Is everything all right? Your mother?’
Determined not to cry she pulled back and nodded up at him. His weathered face crinkled into a smile and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘So what brings you to Sydney? I was looking forward to seeing you, although I expected to wait until I got to Helligen.’
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Here’s your tea, my dear.’ Cecil fussed over a fine bone china teapot on the round side table. ‘The best imported variety courtesy of Kilhampton & Bryce, Purveyor of Fine Goods.’ He gave a throaty chuckle and poured a cup.
Papa winked and led her back to the chair.
‘You drink your tea. I’ll be back in a moment and I’ll take you to the ship. I’ve had some improvements done and my cabin is really quite luxurious. A far cry from the old days.’
‘India will be staying with Mother and myself, at Potts Point. We’ve already discussed the matter.’ Cecil’s florid cheeks darkened a shade. ‘She will be well chaperoned.’
In reply Alexander Kilhampton raised his untamed eyebrows. ‘India, where would you like to stay?’
She shrugged her shoulders and sipped her tea, revelling in the luxury of leaving the decision making to someone else.
‘In that case, why don’t we go to The Cloud now and you can have a look around and tell me all your news. Cecil, we may avail ourselves of your generous offer later in the evening.’
Cecil grunted and pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat. ‘It’s getting late. Mother will want to inform the servants.’
The sheer pleasure of handing over responsibility to Papa threatened to swamp her. She sipped her tea and leant back in the chair.
‘In that case we won’t inconvenience you. I’m sure India will be more than comfortable aboard ship tonight, otherwise we will take rooms at The Royal.’
With a grunt Cecil stuffed his watch back in his pocket. ‘Tomorrow, perhaps. I do have an important meeting later this evening with members of the assembly. If you’ll excuse me, Alexander, Miss India.’ As he took her hand and bowed over it his moustache tickled the skin of the back of her hand. She had to make certain Papa understood she could no more marry Cecil Bryce than she could give away her life at Helligen.
Once Cecil departed India wiped her hand on her skirt and picked up her teacup.
‘Drink up.’ Papa smiled. ‘I can’t wait to show you the improvements.’
Twenty
Halfway between Morpeth and Helligen Jim veered off the track and followed a wallaby trail in the direction of the Hunter River. He yawned as Jefferson ambled along the narrow path. After his madcap ride to Morpeth the previous night he was in no hurry to return to Helligen, although he couldn’t shake his feelings of responsibility for Mrs Kilhampton. Strangely, he relished the prospect of discussing Goodfellow with Kilhampton when he returned from Sydney, but he’d be no use to anyone if he collapsed from exhaustion.
Ahead the river drifted wide and lazy through the cleared river flats and he headed for a stand of trees in the distance. Both he and Jefferson needed a drink and an hour’s rest should see them on their way refreshed.
Under the shade of a sprawling gum tree he dismounted and unsaddled Jefferson. Together they made for the riverbank. He crouched and cupped his hands, sinking them into the cool water before splashing his face and drinking his fill. Jefferson, free of his saddle and bridle, performed his usual snorting and snuffling antics in the shallow water.
Jim left him to it, moved up the bank and lay back, one arm folded behind his head, staring up at a solitary white cloud drifting above the hills. Munmurra lay about thirty miles to the west. It would be so easy to return and put the last weeks behind him, admit he’d been chasing rainbows and that his dream of owning a stud of his own one day was as likely as finding a pot of gold.
He rolled over onto his stomach, his gaze following the hills in the distance until he picked out the tree line behind Helligen, a little closer to the northwest. The smell of the river and the warmth of the sun brought back the memory of the press of India’s body when they rode together, the touch of her lips when he’d kissed her. Every time he saw her he wanted to reach out to her, reassure her. Behind her determination and courage he could see the grief etched into her soul, as though she held herself responsible for her family’s despair.
He stretched his back, ignoring the stab of guilt. There was no escaping the fact he’d used India as a pawn in his search. If Kilhampton had been at Helligen the likelihood of his ruse being accepted would have been far less. He was a dead ringer for his father—it was simple luck no-one on the property recognised him earlier. His subterfuge left a sour taste in his mouth; lying didn’t sit comfortably with him and now he’d left it too late.
His promise to Mrs Kilhampton niggled at his mind. He intended to honour it and one day soon take Goodfellow back to Helligen. It was a fitting end to his foolish quest. Without the deed of sale his father could be branded a horse thief. It must have weighed on his mind otherwise he wouldn’t have asked him to set the record straight.
The horse, despite his age, was quite capable of making the trip. Besides, he had more questions to ask Mrs Kilhampton about his father, and when India returned with her father he had every intention of demanding answers. Whether they’d answer them was another matter, but there was more to the story of Goodfellow and Helligen. India had accused him of lying—what had the Kilhamptons been doing, for goodness sake?
Jefferson stuck his wet nose into his hair and snorted until Jim rolled over. He scratched him behind the ears. The perfect stallion he’d reared from a foal. Such conformation, such stamina, and now he’d never have the opportunity to see him race. It was a bloody good job his father had taken Goodfellow away instead of allowing the trigger-happy fool to wreak his vengeance on the poor animal, otherwise Jefferson wouldn’t exist.
Someone had to know the whole story. The horse snorted and tossed his head in the direction of the hills, to the west where the sun was beginning its descent.
&nb
sp; ‘No, we’re not going to Munmurra, not just yet.’
Jefferson whinnied and ambled off along the riverbank. After about twenty paces he stopped and looked back, then kicked up his heels and took off down the track.
Cursing, Jim leapt up and sprinted after him. Something must have spooked the animal. As he rounded the bend in the river he found Jefferson waiting under the shade of a tree eyeing him.
‘What’s your problem?’
The horse gave him a long, considered look and turned his head once more to the west.
‘I told you we’ll go soon. When India returns we’ll get Goodfellow and take him home.’
Jefferson shook his head and snorted, unimpressed by the response he’d received.
‘We can’t …’ Why the hell couldn’t they? Returning to Helligen via Munmurra would mean an extra day. No more. Then, when India got back she’d see Goodfellow with her own eyes and understand the reason for his subterfuge. At worst, Kilhampton would order him off the property. Tell him to pack his bags. That was going to happen anyway. At best, India would understand. And Mrs Kilhampton would be happy.
Jim looked the stallion in the eye. ‘Stay there.’ He ran back to collect his saddle from under the tree.
Once astride Jefferson and heading west a weight lifted from his shoulders, replaced by a calm certainty. He’d be back at Helligen by tomorrow evening with Goodfellow. It was where the animal belonged and at last his father would rest easy. Mrs Kilhampton would no doubt be overjoyed to see the horse and when India returned … when India returned he would put everything straight.
Twenty-One
India leant back against the bulkhead and pulled her knees up to her chin, hugging her shawl around her shoulders to protect herself from the stiff breeze whipping across the harbour. The rock and sway of the ship reminded her of a simpler time, a time before heartbreak and disappointment stalked the Kilhamptons. She was born aboard The Cloud and took her first steps on the rough timber of the decks. The carefree life of freedom and adventure was one Papa still relished.