“Did you offer Miss Bothroyd one,” David asked with a wide grin. He was almost back to his old cheerful self.
“No, I don't like her, she hates little boys. I told Adam, too.” He popped another sweet into his mouth.
To change the conversation Tommy asked Jim whether he and Mary would like to come over for a meal on Christmas day. “I thought we could have our main meal in the evening. It will seem strange walking around in summer clothes instead of being rugged up against the snow.”
“Thank you. Mary would enjoy sharing Christmas with you. She really misses her family. Her mother is coming down a couple of weeks before the baby is born. She’s from a large, close-knit family, and this will be our first Christmas away from them all.” He gave a deep sigh. “They live in Beechworth, and it's too far for us to go up this year. You've been good for her, stopped her from feeling lonely. We haven't made many friends, a bit too isolated, I suppose. The squatters who are our closest neighbors won't mix with us.” A bitter edge roughened his voice. “Don’t own enough acres.”
“We're glad to have you and Mary for friends.” She gave a rueful smile. “You're really the only people we know here. No one wants to associate with us, either, thanks to Adam Munro. Still, who needs the likes of them when we can have a good time on our own?”
Jim went off to start work dismantling everything once the activities finished. Tommy overheard a couple of people discussing a party at Adam’s house for the officials and other gentry. How strange she should feel hurt because they didn’t receive an invitation.
She felt drained now the excitement had worn off. Warrior, who had recovered, seemed quite content to trot along tied to the back of the buggy. David’s spirits soared higher than an eagle. As they drove along he broke into song and she joined in. Their voices floated clearly in the vast open spaces, but no audience heard this impromptu concert.
Although the race meeting was held on Adam's station, they had not seen his home. How idiotic for her to feel disappointed about this.
They arrived home at dusk. The sun had already set in a blood-red sky, a sure sign it would be another scorcher tomorrow.
While she prepared their supper, David and Jamie attended to the outside chores, and every now and again she caught snatches of song. Maybe their luck was taking a turn for the better, not before time. She slapped at a mosquito buzzing near her face. If Adam wasn’t so ruthlessly bent on destroying them, life could be quite pleasant. He always seemed to be hovering in the background, poised above them like some revenge-filled devil, just waiting for the chance to hammer them into the ground.
That evening after Jamie went to bed, they sat out on the back verandah in the cool air. Tommy gave a sudden, huge sigh.
“Not homesick are you?”
“No I'm not.” How could she explain to David that she felt disappointed, somehow cheated of a special treat, because Adam didn’t invite them to his home?
“Do you really like it here, sis?”
“Yes, it's so different. In England everything is soft, pretty; out here this untamed frontier is harsh, cruel even, yet it has a wild beauty.”
“You know, I feel the same way. One has to be strong to survive. It’s not a land for weaklings, but we can make it.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I don't know of any young woman who could have ridden in that race today. I'll admit now to being worried sick, especially when Munro called me an idiot for letting you risk your life. I don't understand why, but he acted so furious. When you took the water jump, his body went rigid and he turned white as a ghost.”
“Probably annoyed because we put it over him.”
“I don't think so. It was more than that.”
They lapsed into silence, the only sounds being the chirping of the crickets and the buzzing of a stray mosquito. No matter how scorching the day had been, in the evenings as they relaxed on the verandah, a cooling breeze caressed them with gentle fingers. Even the stars and moon seemed larger, somehow brighter, than in England.
Chapter Five
A few days after the race meeting, Tommy read an article in the local paper, about a pre Christmas ball being given by the Chief Commissioner.
“David, read this. Could we go?”
He skimmed through the paper. “I don’t know, only the landed gentry like Munro would attend this kind of function.”
She picked up a piece of chalk Jamie had left lying around and started playing with it. “Couldn’t get more landed than him.” The chalk broke in two with a loud snap. “I’d like to go just to show him we’re as good, if not better than him and his cronies.”
“We’re better than him all right, our grandfather was the youngest son of a lord; we’ve got blue blood. Oh, Tommy, if only you could see the expression on your face when you speak about Munro.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your eyes seem to, well burn, and your cheeks color up. I don’t know why but that man stirs you up, there’s no doubt about it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She forced a laugh, wondering indeed what was wrong with her. “Could we go to the ball? Please.”
“What would we wear? It will be a formal affair.”
“I brought my favorite ball gown with me. I just couldn’t bear to part with it at the last minute. You could wear your uniform. You haven’t been discharged from the army; well not officially, anyway.”
It would be wonderful going to a ball again after so long. Jim and Mary would mind Jamie. In Mary’s condition they would not be able to attend even if they wanted to. It would be worth going just to watch Adam Munro’s face. Of all the arrogant men she had ever met, he would be the worst. As for Sophia Bothroyd—snobbish little upstart.
****
Tommy rode over to see Mary and Jim the next afternoon. David reluctantly agreed to take her to the ball providing they would take Jamie for the night.
Her deep blue gown was trimmed with white lace around the three-quarter-length sleeves. She wore a wide brimmed straw hat trimmed with blue and white feathers.
The horse’s hooves kicked up swirls of dust as they rode through the tinder dry countryside. The twigs scattered over the track were so brittle they snapped every time the horse stepped on one. The nearer she got to the Cavendish place the drier, more barren the ground became.
The split log homestead had a bark roof. No garden except for a few dust covered geraniums struggling for survival. No wonder Adam Munro didn’t worry about this forlorn little farm.
Mary must have seen her arrive as she waddled onto the verandah before Tommy even dismounted.
After tethering her mount under the shade of a huge gum tree, Tommy stepped up on to the verandah, drawing off her gloves as she did so. “How are you, Mary?”
“Worn out.” She gave a weary smile. “But it’s nice to have a visitor. Let’s go inside out of this heat.”
“Have you got much longer to go? It must be so uncomfortable in this weather.”
“A few weeks. I’m showing a lot.” She laughed. “Hope it isn’t twins.”
As she followed Mary inside Tommy wondered how anyone could be so cheerful living in such harsh conditions. The kitchen and parlor were combined, the ceiling lined with calico, the cracks in the walls stuffed with newspapers. Old chaff bags, embroidered with scraps of colored wool covered the earthen floor.
“Like a cup of tea?”
“Yes, I’d love one thanks. You don’t realize how hot the sun is until you go out in it.” She took off her hat and dropped it on the end of the table. The furniture was roughly hewn from tree trunks, but planed so smooth the grain of the wood still showed. She swallowed down a lump in her throat. How brave Mary and the other pioneer women were to live in such primitive surroundings. Could she do it?
Over a cup of tea and a slice of cake, she regaled Mary with her exploits in the steeplechase.
“Jim told me what happened. I don’t know how you dared.”
When Tommy asked about the Commissioner’s
pre Christmas ball, Mary said she had never attended, nor had anyone they knew. David’s supposition about the landed gentry proved correct. Although you didn’t have to purchase a ticket, no working class person would dare attend.
“I don’t mind having Jamie, but surely you don’t mean to go?”
“I’m going, if it’s the last thing I ever do. I have one good ball gown left that I intend wearing. And David can wear his uniform. He hasn’t officially been discharged from the army.”
“I’d like to be there just to see the looks on some of those highbrow, snobbish faces. Jim said David got wounded in some war in Africa.”
“Yes he did, quite badly. We won’t stay the whole evening at the ball. A couple of hours will be long enough to set the ‘so-called gentry’ back on their heels.”
When it came time to leave, they both agreed the hours had flown too quickly. Mary insisted on Jamie coming over on the Saturday afternoon and staying the night. They would drop him back on Sunday morning on their way to church.
Tommy rode home feeling light-hearted, nothing like a girlish gossip to cheer a person up. She rode slowly. On this treeless, dusty plain, the sun bore down from the sky with such intensity it burned through her clothes. By the time she reached the treed area, her head ached and her throat felt parched and scratchy. Christmas had not yet arrived. January and February were supposed to be the hottest months out here. How could a mere mortal endure it?
She longed for the cool evenings. A dark velvet sky pin-pricked with twinkling stars and the sounds of night animals always soothed her.
****
The night of the ball arrived. Jim picked Jamie up on his way home from working at a neighboring property. Tommy couldn’t stop worrying. David knocked his leg while milking and now limped around looking pale and drawn.
“We don't have to go if you don't feel well enough,” she told him for about the tenth time.
“I'm all right, don't fuss. I'm looking forward to seeing Munro's face when we arrive.”
They finished getting ready. Tommy, who had never been vain, knew she looked well tonight. Her blue silk gown had a bunched up skirt at the back so it fell into a slight train. Pleated frills, a shade darker in color, matched the low cut bodice. Around her shoulders she draped a white tulle cape, flecked with silver threads.
“You look beautiful.” David limped into the parlor where she waited. The bright red of his jacket seemed to emphasize his fairness. He had spent an hour or more just cleaning and preparing his uniform. The white webbing stood out against his scarlet jacket.
“Ready?” He took her arm as they made their way out to the buggy. She wanted to hire a fancy coach but knew they could not afford such extravagance.
The Commissioner's residence, a two-storied house built of red brick on the outskirts of town, was only recently completed according to Mary, and with no expense spared. Dozens of carriages lined the driveway. David chose a spot a little away from the rest.
“No one will see our magnificent chariot in the dark.” He gave a low chuckle.
She put her arm through his, her gloved hand resting on the sleeve of his jacket as they made their way towards the verandah. All colonial houses seemed to have at least one verandah, some enclosed on all sides in an endeavor to beat the searing summer heat.
The orchestra played what sounded like a waltz as they made their way to the door where a uniformed butler met them.
“Your name please.”
Tommy gave it to him, emphasizing David's rank. “He's going to announce us.” She gave a nervous giggle and squeezed her brother’s arm.
“Come this way, please.” The man made a deferential bow.
“Well, here we go, sis, the grand entrance.”
“Captain David Lindsay and Miss Thomasina Lindsay.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd of guests. With her head held high, and her fingers biting into David's arm, they entered the ballroom.
Something made her glance across the dance floor. Her gaze locked with Adam’s. For a second sudden warmth lit his eyes, softening them to a misty gray, but they quickly iced over again. He wore a dark evening suit with a white frilly shirt. Her heartbeat escalated only because of nervousness.
A waiter passed by. David picked up two drinks of what looked like fruit punch, as neither of them drank alcohol. The music started up again and she glanced around with interest. The gowns were beautiful and surprisingly the latest designs from the continent. But mine is just as grand as any of them, she decided, with a secret little thrill.
When a young man came up to inquire whether her program was full, she realized she didn’t have one.
“I'm sorry. I didn’t bring one with me.” She smiled in apology. Of all the idiotic actions. A young woman could be socially ruined for committing such a faux pas in England.
Her would-be partner gave a nonchalant grin. “I’m Ian Wiseman. Would you mind?” he asked David.
“No, go ahead.”
Ian proved an accomplished dancer and she started enjoying herself. Her first ball in Australia would most probably be her last so she meant to savor every minute of it.
“Good evening, Miss Lindsay. Mind if I cut in?” Adam Munro strode up and whisked her out of her partner’s arms, executed a couple of fancy steps, and had them out in the middle of the dance floor before she could utter a protest.
“I don’t wish to dance with you,” she lied, knowing full well that she wanted to feel his arms around her.
“That’s too bad.” His breath stirred a few wispy strands of hair at her forehead.
He danced well, his skill surpassing hers, and she always considered herself an excellent dancer. His skin had an earthy, musky smell, a scent so potently male it seeped into every core of her being, causing her nerve endings to tingle. She couldn’t understand the affect he had on her. He held her firmly, not overly close, but the touch of his hand seared like a brand through the fine material of her gown.
Adam felt her body trembling against him. The perfume of her hair, sweeter than any flower known to man, wafted in his nostrils until he struggled to breathe. Tommy Lindsay floated around the dance floor, light as thistledown, delicate as the petals of a rose in full bloom. He had a sudden, inexplicable urge to crush her against his own hardness, to taste her lips, to probe for the nectar he knew his tongue would find inside her mouth.
Damn it. He loosened his hold a little and couldn’t understand why he suddenly felt bereft. The sooner he announced his betrothal to Sophia the better, before creamy English skin and sky blue eyes seduced him. Tommy Lindsay didn’t fit into his plans. He used clear logic when it came to choosing a wife. He didn’t want the bother of any emotional attachment.
Even after all these years he could still remember the desolation, the sheer agony of losing his mother, and he wasn’t prepared to put himself through that again. The only things he required of his wife were for her to give him two or three healthy sons, be decorative when he entertained, and bring some money or property into the union. Sophia proved perfect on all counts. He wanted nothing else. He didn’t need passion in his life.
“The music has ended, Mr. Munro.”
“So it has.” He trailed his finger across her cheek, enjoying the feel of her soft, smooth skin. “Thank you for the dance, little English rose. I had a sudden urge to hold you in my arms.”
His words shocked her, but not nearly as much as the low, almost tremulous way he spoke them. Her heart fluttered like a captured bird, but she forced herself to walk away from him. She didn’t understand the riotous feelings he aroused in her, but he must never know what effect he had on her.
Ten minutes after her first encounter with Adam, Tommy and her partner, Ian Wiseman, started to leave the dance floor when they encountered him again.
“So, we meet once more, Miss Lindsay.”
“Good evening, Mr. Munro.”
She felt herself blush at his intense scrutiny. She wore no jewelry except a gold cameo on a dark blue ri
bbon nestling in the hollow of her throat. From where he stared that item seemed to have caught his interest.
“There you are, Adam.” Sophia glided up to them and slipped her arm through his in a possessive gesture.
“Sophia, my dear.” He bent his head as he favored her with a dazzling smile that wiped years off his age. “Let me introduce you to Miss Lindsay. You know Mr. Wiseman, of course.”
“Good evening.” The polite smile died a sudden death on Tommy's lips. The girl looked quite attractive, her green silk gown Parisian inspired. This did not drain the warmth from Tommy's cheeks, but the pendant encircling Sophia’s throat did. “Where did you get that pendant from?”
“Adam bought it for me.”
“Why, you despicable cad.” Furious, Tommy glared at him. “That's my pendant.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t any more. You sold it and I happened to buy it.”
“I hate you, Adam Munro.” Angry tears filled her eyes.
As Ian tried to edge her away, the squatter turned on his heel and strode off with a gloating Sophia clinging to his arm.
“May I ask what that was about, Miss Lindsay?”
“Oh, nothing important.” She gave a high pitched, brittle laugh.
Ian escorted her back to David and hurried off. He obviously thought he had been dancing with a madwoman.
“He seemed in a rush to leave. Did you step on his toes?”
“No.” She clenched her fists as she explained what had transpired.
“You said you didn't like the pendant much.”
“I didn't.” She recovered herself in a flash. She had to stop showing her feelings so openly. “It was the principle of the thing that infuriated me.”
“Well, the poor devil you were dancing with seemed glad to escape.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” She stared into David’s flushed face and her anxiety heightened.
“Yes, I'm just hot.” He ran his fingers around the collar of his jacket.
“Do you want to sit down?”
He looked pale now, sweating. He passed a trembling hand across his eyes. His face turned ashen, and without a sound he slid to the floor in a dead faint.
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