Hannah
Page 22
‘And handsome,’ Peggy offered. ‘He’ll be one for the ladies, I do declare.’
Everyone in the room joined in the merriment. Mary Ann giggled as if they knew what was going on while Charlotte couldn’t believe the sight of not one but two little ones. Her lovely dark eyes centered on the tiny faces, avid gaze swinging from one to the other, evaluating the features . . . the eyes — hazel grey, not like hers — tiny noses and mouths, and wisps of hair clinging to smooth domes. Mary Ann poked a finger into the cheeks of each of the babes and made a sound like a triumphant ‘hmm.’
‘Daniel.’ Hannah raised herself up on the bed. ‘I want you to name the boy.’
‘Aye, Hannah. I’d like to call the lad Robert.’
‘It’s a fine name,’ she said. ‘I have a feeling they’ll be good together, these two.’
‘There’s no doubt about that. They’ll have a close bond all their lives.’ He looked at Hannah proudly. ‘Our family is growing, Hannah.’
‘Yes,’ she said, rolling her eyes and winking at him. ‘But how many more, I wonder? When will it ever stop?’
The twins were baptized in Windsor on the fifth of October 1817 with Henrietta and Olly Dalgety present. The Clarke family travelled in Herb’s finest sulky, Charlotte and Mary Ann pretty and charming in identical white frocks with sky blue sashes. ‘You’d think butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths,’ Hannah told Henrietta, yet she couldn’t help feeling proud as she watched her daughters, the always thoughtful six year old with the long golden mane and dark eyes and the saucy two year old with curly, brown locks and bright grey eyes. As different as chalk and cheese, she thought...
Chapter 14
SOUTH CREEK
1818-1827
With four children to feed and clothe, they agreed they had to develop more of their thirty acres and utilize every square yard they could. As the new year of 1818 dawned, they cleared the entire south paddock and sowed six acres of wheat to supplement the ten acres of maize that was near harvesting. Hannah’s vegetable garden with its pumpkins, potatoes, tomatoes and onions provided the basic but sustainable food, the two house cows reliable providers of milk, butter and occasionally cheese — when Hannah could find the time — and the red hens that free-roamed the block with eggs, although they laid them everywhere, much to Charlotte’s disgust, whose job it was to look after them. They sometimes nested under the weeping willows down by the creek — Daniel still hadn’t built a proper chook pen as Charlotte continued to point out — and her mother had to come with her, cudgel in hand, to deal with the black snakes that often lay, coiled up in the shadows. Killing snakes had, by necessity, become routine for the girl from Kent much to Daniel’s amusement and his flippant ‘I told you so, didn’t I?’
Daniel stayed home working on the block every day — ceasing the contract work — and Hannah and the children loved to have him near. Gradually, the block became a productive selection with their 8 acres of wheat, 10 of maize, 4 of barley, 3 of oats and 1 of potatoes. Their stock increased with the purchase of 6 hogs. They had little money to spare but they ate well and the children were always clothed in warm, well-presented clothes. They got by, contented as the years went on and the family grew.
They discussed whether to send Charlotte to school — a privately run one had started up in Windsor in 1819 — but they didn’t have any respectable means of transport, only the slow, heavy dray, but, as Hannah pointed out, they could now afford the school fees. ‘We have to get a sulky,’ she declared one morning, eyeing her husband irritably. ‘Everyone else has got one even Joel and Betty Evans. We have the horse. Why can’t we get the carriage?’
‘Because we haven’t got the ready cash,’ Daniel pointed out, holding his temper in check. I could go back to sea though for one trip—’
‘Don’t even think about it, mister.’ Hannah banged a large pot on the stove to emphasize her frustration.
Daniel stamped outside and looked up at the sky, anger dissipated as quickly as it had begun. He kicked absently at a log on the fire. Hannah was right. They needed a sulky and he would get it. If only she would only let him go back to sea even for one short trip of a few months. He thought about working for the Everinghams on weekends. In a year perhaps they surely would have enough. Nodding, he stepped warily back into her kitchen. She was bent over the stove, still banging pots and utensils, but not with the same intensity. ‘Hannah . . .’ he began and watched her shoulders stiffen. She turned, cheeks wet and moved to him. He held her, stroking her thick brown hair. ‘Sorry,’ he heard her mutter.
‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,’ he said, turning her face to his. ‘You were right. We do need a buggy and I promise you that we’ll get one.’
‘We can wait, Daniel, for as long as it takes. We’re not going anywhere, are we?’ Hannah blew her nose and sauntered back to the stove. ‘Now, call the kids, and we’ll eat.’
‘What a good idea,’ he replied, patting his stomach and she laughed and he knew then that everything was all right again.
In the next three years at South Creek, John James was born in May 1820, baptized in August 1820 and in June 1822 another daughter, Elizabeth, came into the world. This brought the Clarke family to eight and necessitated Daniel building another extension to the house.
The consecration of St. Matthews Anglican Church took place in late 1822. Within and outside the church grounds, an array of buggies, sulkies, surreys and the occasional dray heralded the arrival of the families of Richmond, Windsor and the surrounding districts.
Hannah and Daniel would forever remember that day when they proudly steered the Clarke family into the precincts of the church.
The elder children sat on a pew in front of their parents, Hannah, with sleeping Elizabeth in her arms, and Daniel next to her, two year old John sitting contentedly on his lap. Are these all mine, all these strong, healthy people? Hannah wondered. It was the first time she‘d really seen them all together, well dressed and behaved. She swept her gaze from left to right, Charlotte, with those lovely classical looks, twelve years old, puberty beckoning, so sensitive, always thoughtful, sometimes reclusive and next to her seven year old Mary Ann, happy-go-lucky, joke teller, the extrovert of the family, and then the five year old twins, Hannah and Robert, the latter with his wild black hair slicked down with oil, she with a white ribbon in her raven locks, inseparable, those two, as thick as thieves, funny, loving yet always, striving to live a life of their own.
She could see Daniel watching her, a smile on his face. He leaned towards her, cupping a hand around her ear and whispering. ‘Tell me, Hannah Clarke, are these children for real?’
Hannah shook her head. ‘Hmm, sometimes I doubt it. It seems just like a dream.’
Every morning Hannah took Charlotte and Mary Ann to the Windsor private school and picked them up in the afternoon in their own sulky and still-skittish black horse. They’d skimped and saved for two years before buying a sad-looking vehicle from the McLeans. Under Olly’s guidance, Daniel cleared the binding axle, greased the bearings and refurbished the seats and cover. Hannah was rapt, the children bubbling with anticipation. ‘Hurry up, Daddy.’ Mary Ann couldn’t keep still, running around, poking her curly little head up — at the most inconvenient times and places — to confront her amused father. ‘Hang on, merry one,’ he’d tell her, laughing and tousling her black curls.
They became regulars at the church every Sunday morning, the girls in the sulky with Hannah and Robert and John travelling in the dray with Daniel, where they could dangle their feet in comfort without the shrieking and bullying of the girls. In the summer, they’d go swimming in the deep hole that became known to the locals as Clarke’s Swimming Hole. The adults would picnic on the bank under the shade of the she-oaks while the Clarke children and their friends from the nearby farms would frolic in the cool water of South Creek.
Life became much more pleasant for Hannah, Daniel and their family with the social contact even though they never really had e
xtra money for the odd luxury they craved. One cold winter’s evening in 1823, sitting around the fire and the children tucked up in bed, Daniel again broached the subject of him going back to sea. ‘It’d only be for one voyage, Hannah,’ he said, searching her face for a reaction. ‘We could do with the extra money. The kids are growing up and need things. It’ll get us on our feet.’
‘Hullo,’ Hannah said, eyes flashing. ‘We’re on that old chestnut, are we? I thought we agreed that there’s no need for that so don’t even think about it.’
‘Well,’ he said, rubbing his chin, ‘I just thought—’
Hannah leaned towards him and wagged a finger. ‘Look, Daniel Clarke, how could you even consider leaving me here alone with the children so young and with the blacks roaming wild again as Toby told us the other day—’
‘Toby exaggerates. The town people say there was only one isolated incident at Bailey’s block in the past few months.’
‘Isolated?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s us that are isolated here in South Creek.’
‘I’m only thinking of the future, Hannah.’ He frowned. ‘And the children,’ he added.
‘Yes, I know you are really but . . .’ She gave him a questioning look, a wry smile on her lips. ‘Are you sure that it’s not also the call of the sea, getting back with your whaling mates? Irrespective, Daniel Clarke, whatever the reason, the answer is no, positively no.’
‘Hannah, you’re a contrary woman at times.’ He shook his head, in frustration. ‘You can’t see a hole in a ladder, can you? I’m going to bed.’ Daniel stormed to the bedroom door and turned. ‘It’s the only chance we’ll have of saving something extra and you won’t or can’t see it. Damn it, Hannah.’ He strode into the bedroom and slammed the door.
‘What’s that noise, Mummy?’ Robert shouted and his twin added her support. ‘Yes, what’s all that noise, Mummy?’ Elizabeth cried.
‘Nothing for you to worry about and you pair go back to sleep,’ Hannah ordered. She sat by the fire as the house grew silent and stared into the red hot coals. She could read him like a book. He was still the happy-go-lucky sailor even after nine years of marriage. Farming wasn’t his first love and probably never would be. Sure, he was obsessed with making more money for the family but she didn’t kid herself. The love of the sea was, deep down, his prime motivation.
Sighing, she rose, covered the fire place with the shield and went to join him in their bed. For some time, she lay on her side, watching his chest rise and fall in rhythmic breathing. Even so, she sensed he was awake, just lying there. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and placed it on his hip. After a while, she sensed him tense and a hand moved to cover hers, his fingers seeking and entwining. Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. Tomorrow, they would talk more as they had always done. She closed her eyes, contented now, and slept.
By mutual consent, Daniel never returned to the sea that he loved. In May 1824, Hannah gave birth to her third son, William, a fine healthy boy with a shock of fair hair, unlike the dark brown of his siblings. He looks like you, she told Daniel as he held the boy in his arms.
‘I’m glad one of them looks something like me,’ he chuckled. ‘People are talking, you know.’
‘Oh, didn’t you know about me and Toby?’ She grinned. ‘Here, give us back the baby before you drop it.’
‘No way would I drop it. After all, I’ve had plenty of practice, haven’t I?’ He chucked wide-eyed Mary Ann under the chin and winked at Charlotte hoping to draw a spark from her. She’d got even quieter since Blue died, if that was possible. Daniel motioned to his daughters. ‘Come on, out you go now, girls, and let your mother rest.’
Summer 1824 came quickly. By October, temperatures rose consistently into the high thirties and, as Hannah commented, gaze sweeping the sky, the storms couldn’t be far away.
One hot day, the sound of horses made Daniel look up to follow the path of a stylish two horse sulky, coming down the track. A short, wiry-looking, conservatively-dressed man in a grey dress coat, a fine dark blue waistcoat with central buttons, black breeches and long woolen stockings alighted. He touched a hand to the tip of his square felt hat. ‘Morning,’ he said cheerily. ‘Are you the Clarke family?’ On Daniel’s nod, he pulled a small book from his pocket. ‘I’m Richard Edsall, seconded as a tally clerk. Sorry to disturb you but . . .’ He waved his hands apart to illustrate it wasn’t anything of his doing. ‘I have to list the amount of land under crops and any stock you have. ‘He smiled at Hannah. ‘It’s a census for the boss, the Governor.’
As usual when a visitor came, the children burst out the door to check what was going on. Edsall allowed his gaze to pass over the seven children as they stood in a group behind their mother. Healthy-looking children, he thought. His eyes settled on the eldest, the one with the long golden hair, so different from all the others. She was a beauty. His gaze took in the stocky, rather aggressive stance, the smooth hand that rested nonchalantly on her hip, the golden locks that fell forward to cover half her face, the budding breasts and figure that gave promise of full, womanly curves to come and the eyes . . . dark, unfathomable pools that focused unwaveringly on him. He wondered how old she could be. Fourteen or fifteen, perhaps? He became aware that he had been staring and looked down at his silver-buckled shoes to recover his poise.
‘Well, we’d better get on with it,’ Daniel said, gruffly, irritated at the clerk’s all too obvious attention to his daughter. He stared directly into Edsall’s sharp-edged features, the thin lips and hard green eyes and wasn’t impressed. ‘We could start in the south paddock.’ He pointed away down the block.
‘Yes,’ Edsall agreed, ‘By all means, Mr. Clarke.’ He followed in Daniel’s footsteps, avoiding the temptation to turn and look at her once again. He didn’t want to make it any more obvious than what he already had. He would tread warily, but he knew that he was smitten with her and he didn’t even know her name. He moved beside Daniel. ‘Very hot today,’ he offered, and had to be satisfied with Daniel’s rather-distant nod.
When they’d completed the inventory of stock and crops and Edsall had assured Daniel that it appeared to meet the grant conditions, they walked back to the sulky. As Edsall made to climb aboard, Hannah appeared in the doorway of the house. ‘Would you care for a cuppa, Mr. Edsall, before you go,’ she offered. ‘The kettle’s just boiled.’
Daniel tried to catch her gaze without success. It was obvious that she was just offering the traditional bush welcome to visitors. Glowering, he followed Edsall into the kitchen where Charlie stood at the stove, pouring from the family teapot into cups. ‘No need to worry about that, Charlotte,’ he said sharply. ‘Your mother will do that. You look after the children—’
‘It’s no problem,’ Charlotte declared, ‘It’s already brewed.’ She approached the guest who had already seated himself on Daniel’s favorite easy chair. ‘Here, Mr. Edsall,’ she said, eyes lowered demurely, and passed a cup. ‘There’s sugar and milk there on the table.’
‘Thank you, my dear,’ Edsall responded, taking the cup. He startled as his fingers touched hers and he found himself looking directly into her face, eyes searching hers, hoping for a response but she quickly turned away, gaze everywhere but on him and, acting on her father’s impatient motion, hurriedly left the room.
They sat, conversation somewhat stilted until Edsall began telling them about his work and Hannah asked questions out of politeness. Every so often, she’d shoot a glance at her silent husband, aware of his unease but not sure of the reason. Edsall seemed such a friendly, polite fellow. What was the matter with her silly old husband?
Finally, Edsall stood. ‘Well, I’d better be getting back to it. Thank you for the tea and thank you, Mr. Clarke, for your time.’ He held out his hand and Daniel gave it a brief shake. He turned to Hannah, a smile on his lips. ‘I do hope you don’t mind if I call in when I’m next passing your place.’
‘Not at all, Mr. Edsall—’
‘Richard. Please call me Richard.’
‘I don’t like that fellow.’
‘You certainly made that obvious, didn’t you?’
‘Look, love, bear with me.’ Daniel put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. ‘I’m a good judge of character. I haven’t been around the world five or six times not to learn something about people. I didn’t like the way he looked at Charlotte, or didn’t you notice?’
‘Yes, I saw, Daniel. Let me tell you something, my dear husband...’ She paused to push an inquisitive Mary Ann back into the bedroom and close the door. ‘This Edsall fellow is not the only one who’s been casting admiring glances at our daughter.’
‘What do you mean?’ Daniel’s eyes hardened. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about the young lads in town. Every time we go in there, the boys ogle her. At school, she’s the centre of the boys’ attention, so I’ve been told. I bet you didn’t know that.’ She cocked her head quizzically. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that our little girl is growing up—’
‘Of course I have but she’s still a child. For God’s sake, Hannah, she’s different from all the others. She’s sensitive, needs special care and understanding. Anyway, why haven’t you told me about this before? Do I have to guess everything that’s going on around here?’
‘Careful, Daniel,’ she warned. ‘You’ll bust a boiler.’
Daniel glared, wondering where she had got that nautical phrase from. Was it on the Canada, maybe from John Dixon? He felt his temper rising. ‘Anyway, I’ve made a decision. I don’t want that fellow around here anymore so that’s the end of the matter.’
‘And what am I supposed to do if he comes here and you’re away at the Everinghams for most of the time, as you are. Do I just throw him out or set the dog we haven’t got on to him?’