Mr. Lannock blinked. “You must be one of those second-sight women. Just last night John told us he had asked for Sara Williams, the publican’s daughter. He won’t be getting land with her. A keg of beer, if he’s lucky.”
Ella laughed. “He’ll be getting a very fine wife.”
“They want to get married in June. June, I said? Why so soon? You’ve got years. I thought they could live here with us and she thought they could move into the hotel to be with her Dadda. If John lives in the hotel I don’t reckon he’ll turn up early for the milking.”
“It wouldn’t be easy. So, if you bought the land next door, our station, you could keep him closer. You have, so to speak, paid for a good percentage of our property already. The bank holds the mortgage, and I’m sure they won’t mind transferring it to you.”
“Hold hard, Missy. What about the sheep?” Mr. Lannock narrowed his eyes. “Are you planning on selling them first?”
“We’re hoping that whomever buys the land will want the sheep, too. Swampy Marsh will likely stay on if he’s paid a reasonable wage. But John might like to be a sheep farmer. There’s good money to be made by a man who knows how to work the land, which he does and which alas, my Papa didn’t. And, dear life, Sara will certainly know how to run the homestead. She has run the hotel for her Dadda for years.”
“You have a fine way of talking, Missy.” He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and smiled warily. “Your father’s daughter you certainly are. I’ll think on it.” He stood, considering. “How much would you want for the sheep?”
“A shilling a head is what we get for them dead. They shouldn’t be worth much less alive.”
Mr. Lannock put his hands to the sides of his face. “Mercy me. I’m not one of those graziers with money to burn. You’ve got five thousand, give or take a hundred or so. You’d want two hundred and fifty pounds.”
“You can pay the money in installments, Mr. Lannock. Or you can sell the sheep, probably for more than a shilling per head, and pay us that way. At this time, all we can think of is leaving. My sisters are pining away here.”
“And what about you?” he asked, drawing his eyebrows together.
She smiled. “We’re a family.”
He turned and stared across his land, elbows tight to his body, neck tensed. Finally, he took a breath and nodded as if he had come to a decision. “I’ll speak to the bank manager. If I can get the mortgage transferred and we can come to an agreement as to the full price, we can call it a deal. You talk sense.” He reached out to shake her hand. “Last night John asked if we might buy your land. Funny how things have worked out.”
Chapter 18
Ella sat on the edge of a turned-wood tester bed, staring out the window of an upstairs bedroom in Mildred Cameron’s compact but elegant Walkerville house, built on the embankment of the Torrens River. Tall native trees hid the river but didn’t block the piercing shriek of the black cockatoos while they raided the pines.
“What should we do first?” Vianna asked from her bed, supporting herself on her elbows.
Mrs. Cameron had told them to rest after their journey. As Ella and Vianna shared a bedroom, they had time to talk. Ella would have liked Rose to be present, but Rose wanted to sort out the gowns she had not seen for six months. She had the room next door, the same one she had used for the past two years, with a wardrobe full of silk and lace gowns and shelves holding hats, reticules, and parasols. Ella’s room had a similar wardrobe but holding far fewer items. “We should probably buy gowns before we start looking for a house. You’ll certainly need some. That school of yours wants you to dress in navy blue with black stockings and shoes for your daily lessons. We didn’t have a uniform in my day.”
“That’s progress for you,” Vianna said airily. “Fortunately, blue is my best color. I’ll be glad of the uniform.”
“I hope Rose knows of a place where we can buy your clothes ready-made. That would be even more progress for you,” Ella added gloomily.
“Rose said Mrs. Cameron would be taking you both to balls. So you’ll need a ball gown.”
“I don’t even know how to waltz.”
“Rose will teach you. She said she would.”
As if she had been waiting for her cue, Rose entered the room and, with a billow of black skirts, settled on Vianna’s bed. “I can’t say I’m a dancing teacher, but I certainly know the steps. By the way, Aunt is napping. We only need to leave her in peace for an hour or so and then we can gather in the drawing room to discuss our plans.”
Ella pulled her legs up, crossing them. “What are they, other than finding a house and buying a few clothes?”
“I’ll be going to school as soon as I have the uniforms.”
“Tomorrow we’ll shop for clothes. Aunt thinks it would be nice if we used our chestnuts to pull her Brougham. She thinks they would look very smart if we want to cause a stir.”
“Do we want to cause a stir?”
“Of course we do. If I want a husband, I’ll need to make sure I am noticed. Tomorrow I’ll be coming out of blacks.”
“That’s wonderful, Rose, and about time.” Ella picked at the hem of her gown.
“Mrs. Irene Lynton, as you know, is an acquaintance of Aunt’s. She will hold the first ball of the year in barely a month. Everyone who is anyone will be there. Aunt will obtain an invitation for you, too, Ella, though it seems I’m already invited as a prospective bride for the son and heir, Charlton.”
“If he’s rich, surely he can find a bride for himself?”
“Perhaps he can’t find one who suits his Mama. I believe there is a rash of those who wouldn’t.”
“That’s not nice.” Vianna tilted her pert nose. “He should be allowed to marry whoever he likes.”
“Whomever. And I’m sure he will,” Rose said smoothly. “But those who don’t suit his Mama would be servants and suchlike whom rich young men admire very much but are not suitable to marry.”
“Oh. I thought you meant a woman with a long nose or thin hair,” said the poppet, secure in the knowledge of her own prettiness.
“I don’t have a ball gown.” Ella studied her fingernails. “And if we buy a house of our own, I would rather have curtains.”
They had brought with them the best of their parents’ furniture, which had been sent for storage at a city warehouse. The curtains had been left at the station with the carpets and the kitchen dressers, being too big and heavy to move. The piano had been a nightmare. It would need tuning before Vianna could play a pretty melody again.
Rose spread her hands. “We have almost ninety pounds, Ella. You can have both. Until we sell the chestnuts or get the money for the clip, we can’t buy a house anyway.”
“Driving the chestnuts in the Brougham would be a good way to show them to a buyer. I’m sure we’ll sell them soon.” Vianna wriggled off her bed and sashayed over to the cheval mirror, where she put her hands on her hips and viewed herself sideways. “If not, we’ll have to write to Cal and tell him where we are so that he can send our money here.”
“He can send it to the bank in Noarlunga, as arranged.”
“We’re placing a huge amount of trust in him, Ella.” Rose’s expression grew serious. “Personally, I’d be happy to see this warehouse of his. Is he too plausible? We accepted him at his own valuation, and I’m not certain that was wise.”
Ella heaved a breath. “We accepted him not only on our own valuation—after all, he helped me with the property and he got back our horses—but on Alf’s. How long have we known Alf? A lifetime? And Mr. Cobb. He said he has taken most of the wool shorn this season to Cal’s warehouse.”
“In that case,” Rose said chidingly, “I see no harm in letting him know we are here.”
“If he wants us, he can find out easily enough where we are.” Ella folded her arms and deliberately changed the subject. “I don’t feel comfortable about using the thieves’ horses as our hacks. It doesn’t seem right.”
>
Rose shrugged. “We’re boarding them legally. Anyway, we would have to walk if we didn’t use them. They were a godsend. But for them, we would not have been able to sell the stock horses to John Lannock for three pounds each and so add to our coffers.” She rubbed her hands together, smiling.
“The piebald is very noticeable. If the real owner sees me riding him, he’ll think I stole him.”
Rose stood. “So, we’ll go shopping tomorrow. Right?”
Vianna swung around with a pleased grin on her face. “The school wants me to have light shoes for dancing lessons. Not boots. Dum de dum. At last.”
“I really won’t want a ball gown,” Ella said.
* * * *
Powdered and scented, Rose’s godmother lifted her cheek to be kissed in turn by the sisters. She’d been Mama’s best friend. Widowed four years ago, and childless, she seemed delighted to have Rose foisted on her and apparently didn’t object to Ella’s and Vianna’s presence. She shifted on the velvet-covered sofa in her drawing room, patting the empty place beside her and smiling at Vianna.
“My, you’ve grown, Vianna.” She took the child’s hand. “I swear you are as tall as I now.”
Vianna giggled. “Almost. I’m sure I will be by next year.”
“And Rose, darling, you are as beautiful as ever. How I have missed your lovely face. As, I believe, others have. Ella, you grow more like your mother by the year. She had exactly that same shade of hair—sun-touched gold. Such a journey you must have had! The roads are too, too awful.”
Rose nodded, smiling. “We rode a portion of the way. That saved us time changing coaches. Vianna was a heroine. Miffy, her pony, got very crotchety. She is used to shorter trips.”
“Miffy was the heroine,” Vianna said staunchly. “May I pass you a slice of cake, Mrs. Cameron?”
“Oh, please,” Mrs. Cameron said, delicately reminded of a young person’s appetite. “Call me Aunt, as Rose does.” Turning to her side table, she lifted a tiered plate and offered frosted fruitcake to Vianna. “You, too, Ella. Mercy me, I don’t know where my head is. I simply haven’t been managing without Rose. I’ve been too, too alone. Invitations are so much less forthcoming to ladies of a certain age than are ladies of a certain age with young, beautiful companions to show off to society.”
Rose shook her head fondly. “You flatter me, Aunt.”
“No such thing.” Mrs. Cameron leaned forward. “A certain young man missed you, too. I swear he hasn’t looked at another young lady since you left. And now, of course, he has a very good position with Mr. Edward Lynton.”
“Oh?” Rose busied herself arranging her skirts around her on the armless chair.
“Yes. Such a surprise! He had the job pressed upon him only a few weeks ago. Grace says he’s a new man, so enthusiastic. With steady work, and such important work, too, he would no doubt be in a position to marry a certain young lady were she to indicate that she might be interested.”
“You’re talking about Rose.” Vianna frowned. “Are you interested, Rose?”
“Certainly not. I’ve set my sights higher.”
“What is his important work?” Vianna queried, lifting the icing off her cake.
Mrs. Cameron gave a dismissive wave of her soft white hand. “Men! Daniel has been quite mysterious about the nature of his work, but Edward Lynton is very pleased with him, I can see. You wait. You’ll change your mind about that young man, I’m sure.”
Rose seemed preoccupied. Ella wondered if the young man discussed was the same man who had hardened Rose on the subject of love. Perhaps if he pursued his suit, Rose would change her mind. It seemed she had an opportunity. Ella had none. The man she loved hadn’t hardened her at all. He’d simply not been the right man at the right time, and she thought she would love him until her last breath.
Had her circumstances been better, or his, or had he loved her...but he’d never mentioned love. Best he had gone out of her life. When Rose married, Ella would be too involved in Vianna’s upbringing to miss a man who quite clearly didn’t miss her.
* * * *
Rose and Mrs. Cameron fussed about getting themselves ready for the shopping trip. Ella grew bored not long after she had positioned her only pretty hat on her head and had found herself alone in the sitting room with a view of the front garden.
“We’re almost ready,” Aunt called from the passage. She must have heard Ella sighing with impatience. “If you have a moment to spare, perhaps you could pop down to the mews and ask the stableman to harness the horses to the Brougham.”
“I have a minute,” Ella answered, rising to her feet and striding to the front door.
She hastened to the mews built at the end of the street to service those who did not keep their own stables. Normally Mrs. Cameron—Aunt—used hired bays to pull the Brougham she kept. She thought herself quite a toff now, she had informed Ella, with showy chestnuts to hitch to her equipage.
Over the road from the mews, a stout man wearing a driver’s coat and creased trousers leaned against a tree, gazing at the river and chewing a stalk of grass. He turned to stare at Ella, who flashed him a smile, wondering if this was his morning smoke-oh break. She turned and entered the stable yard. “Hello-oo,” she called, hearing the echo.
“Morning.” A thin, short man dressed in jockey’s riding boots and trousers came out of the nearest stable. “What can I do for you?”
“Would you harness up the chestnuts to Mrs. Cameron’s brougham and send it and the driver to her house forthwith?”
“Quarter hour. That’s the best I can do. Mrs. Neild’s wantin’ her horse saddled and the chestnuts need a good brushing.”
“Your driver is out there idling. Would you like me to send him back to you?”
“My drivers is over yonder.” He indicated a neat stone building with his head. “In that there building, sittin’ with tea and pipes. They don’t bestir themselves until they’re needed.”
Ella nodded, not about to contradict the man. She left, glancing where the driver outside had been, but he had disappeared. The view from there was lovely and she imagined he had walked down to the river’s edge.
Soon after, a red-cheeked cheery man, who helped them into the carriage with a friendly grin, arrived with the Brougham.
Aunt wanted to show them the sights on the way to the city but other than the houses of the very rich, including “The Lynton’s Abode” spoken in a reverential whisper by Aunt, they saw only small buildings until Government House in the city. The driver dropped them off at the corner of Rundle Street and promised to be at the very same spot in three hours to collect them.
“We’ll have time for lunch in the tearooms, too,” Aunt said gaily.
Ella hoped so. It was almost luncheon time. Aunt marched them off to Seymour’s Emporium, a department store of three stories in which they could find everything they needed. They found Vianna’s uniforms, only two, but the rest would be delivered in a week, with her stockings and a pair of dancing shoes. Rose tried to convince Ella to buy dancing shoes, too, but Ella was convinced her old shoes would do. They’d barely been used, “Be they four years old, or not,” she said, adamantly.
They walked past stalks of silk flowers, hat shapes, ribbons, underwear, stockings, and gloves. Rose and Aunt stopped and fingered everything. “Ella, buy something, do,” Rose said as they walked through the fabric department.
“Not materials. I won’t know what I need until we settle into our own house.”
“That might not be for months.” Aunt smiled, as if pleased.
Ella’s heart dropped. She wanted to be in control of her life. Flitting around spending money wasn’t her idea of something to do. She wanted an occupation. She almost envied the gray-gowned shop assistants in Seymour’s, though the bright-eyed creature in the fabric department they currently passed through, stopping with every new fabric to be fingered, looked anxious for a sale.
Ella took pity when the girl’s ey
es locked on Aunt’s hovering fingers. “Perhaps I could buy fabric for my ball gown. This?” she said reluctantly, touching a pale blue slipper satin embroidered with white roses.
“That’s beautiful,” Rose said, stroking the fabric. “What a wonderful color.”
Aunt beckoned to the shop girl, who didn’t look a day over eighteen. “What would we need? Ten yards?”
“For this lady?” the girl asked, glancing at Rose.
“For my sister.” Rose indicated Ella.
The girl began to walk away. “Over here. We have an amber silk that would look just lovely on the lady.”
“We asked for this one.” Rose’s lips clamped.
“I wonder, though.” Aunt glanced at the blue and back to Rose. “The blue would be too, too perfect for you, Rose. Let’s buy it and choose another for Ella. Why did you say amber, girl? Do you have some old stock you want to be rid of?”
“Never.” The girl looked aghast. “It’s new, brand new. The latest thing. Miss has warm coloring. The blue would deaden her skin. See?” She held the fabric against the skin of Ella’s arm.
“So it does,” Ella said, trying to maintain interest. They could give her puce for all she cared. “Show me the amber.”
Not only did the girl prove that amber highlighted Ella’s coloring, but she also sold them twelve yards and ten of the blue for Rose. Then she sent them to the glove department to buy cream evening gloves for Ella, for white wouldn’t do, she insisted.
“That girl ought to be reported for her presumption.” Rose chose herself a new pair of white gloves. “Her job is to sell us what we want.”
“It worked out well,” Aunt said peacefully. “You have a lovely fabric for a new gown and Ella has something nice, too. Don’t worry,” she continued in a whisper to Ella as Rose completed her transaction. “The blue should have been yours, but we need to get Rose married off this year. Next year, I’ll concentrate on you.”
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