Unto Death

by Lena West

  “Right you are, Dad. The flooding was fairly local, mainly over this side of the river; not like the big one in 'fifty-seven, so there was pretty good attendance at the sale, even with the weather. I had no trouble selling that mob I took in. There were two more lots from Granger's, but the bidding went too high on the others. As it was, I was lucky to get these. They're just what we need to improve the quality of our herd.”

  Aglow with pride in his achievements, he gave the men their orders, then trotted off with his father, suddenly anxious to reach home.

  “Was there much damage here? Pete said you were cut off for several days.”

  “Surprisingly little real damage. Mostly cleaning up. I thought we might have lost the wheat, but it dried out in time to save most of the crop.”

  “How's Lucy?”

  “She's well. You should have seen her, Son,” Thomas chuckled. “She was out there with the rest of us, dressed in borrowed oilskins that were so big they almost swallowed her up, bringing the sheep up from the front paddock like a veteran drover. She's turning into a real farm girl. You did well, marrying her. She more than pulls her weight.”

  “Yes. Lucy's a real asset.”

  Stephen rode in silence for a few minutes.

  “We saw Archibald Cummings on the road yesterday. He said he's off to Newcastle on business. There hasn't been any more trouble, has there? With Isabella?”

  The question had almost choked him, but he’d felt compelled to ask it.

  “None at all. I'm hoping common sense has prevailed and the trouble is all behind us. Archibald is thinking about moving to Newcastle and shuttling back and forth. Still, I believe it might be a good thing if Isabella doesn't lay eyes on either you or Lucy for a while. Give her a chance to get over it. That's why I'm sending you both down to Morpeth on a visit to Peter and Maggie. There's a bit of business you can take care of for me while you're there. It's high time you started taking on some of the business responsibilities as well as the farm work.”

  Stephen grunted. He'd been telling Dad exactly that for months past, but there was no point in saying he'd told him so.

  “When do we go?”

  “Next week. It ought to be safe enough around here till then.”

  They entered the house yard just then, and Stephen spied Lucy standing on the front veranda, waiting for him. Leaving his father in his dust, he kicked Sultan into a gallop, pulling him up with a flourish at the foot of the steps. Leaping from the saddle, he took the steps two at a time, sweeping Lucy up and spinning round with her in his arms. Setting her back on her feet, he crushed her to him, kissing her as if he'd never get enough of her.

  “I missed you so much, Lucy darling. You've no idea.” He kissed her again.

  Relieved of the very worst of the fears she'd held at bay during his absence, Lucy laughed, reaching up a hand to stroke his scratchy, beard-roughened cheek.

  “I must say, you're rather more cheerful than the last time I saw you. I take it the trip went well?”

  “It did, and I am.”

  Soberly holding his wife by both shoulders, he gazed deep into her sparkling brown eyes.

  “I'm so very, very glad I married you.”

  His obvious sincerity warmed Lucy to the tips of her toes, raising a delightful rosy blush on her cheeks.

  “I'm very, very glad you married me, too, Darling. But you know?”

  A wide, happy grin on her face, she wrinkled her nose.

  “There's no delicate way to put this, Stephen. You smell.”

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  “Several days on the road with a mob of cattle can have that effect. I'll go and clean up.”

  He let her go and made to leave.

  Lucy pulled him back for one last kiss.

  “I really don't mind your dirt and grime, I'm so happy to see you home again. But it's almost dinner time, and you can't sit at the table in all your dirt, so off you go. We can talk later.”

  ***

  Thomas whistled tunelessly as he trudged back from the stables, Stephen's saddlebags slung over his shoulder.

  Glad to see his son and daughter-in-law so patently happy to see each other after their time apart, he'd quietly collected Sultan from where he was munching on Lucy's floral borders, and had settled both horses for the night.

  He'd still been just a trifle worried about his son, he admitted to himself. With his infatuation with Isabella Cummings finally laid to rest, Stephen ought to have been more cheerful than he'd seemed before he left.

  Anyway, whatever it was that was bothering him, he seemed to have got over it now.

  Returning from the bath house, Stephen scooped up the saddle bags Thomas had left outside their bedroom door. Lucy, coming to see how much longer he'd be, found him flinging smelly, mud-stained clothes into a heap on the floor.

  “Ugh! That stinky lot can go directly to the laundry. I'm not sleeping with the smell of them wafting from the hamper.” She gingerly picked up the bundle.

  “Leave them, Lu. I'll get rid of them shortly.”

  He rummaged about in the bottom of the bag, producing a small oblong package wrapped in brown paper.

  “I saw this in the jeweller's shop in Scone. It reminded me of you, Lu-Lu, so I bought it for you.” He handed the package to her, a shy smile lighting up his face.

  “Thank you, Stephen.” Lucy rewarded him with a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “You haven't even opened it yet. What if you don't like it?”

  “I'm sure I will, darling. You have such excellent taste.”

  By then Lucy had the paper off and was opening the box, exposing a broad band of chased silver set with seed pearls and tiny, blue enamelled flowers.

  “Ooh, Stephen, it's lovely. Although you didn't need to bring me anything.” This called for a more lingering reward.

  “How clever of you to wear blue tonight, Lucy. Here, let me do it up for you. I know I didn't need to bring a present. I bought it because I wanted to. Because you deserve it, and far more besides. Don't ever think I haven't noticed how you're always there for me, with a smile and encouraging words when I need them.”

  He drew her to him for a long, lingering kiss that set her nerve ends tingling, then, with a meaningful glance, bent his attention to making short work of the clasp.

  “I'll just get rid these filthy work clothes, and you can tell Bridget she can serve dinner now. I'm starving. A man gets tired of camp tucker.”

  Lucy's eyes followed him from the room, a mistiness blurring their focus, fingers lightly caressing her bracelet.

  Dinner was a convivial affair, with all three members of the family in high spirits. Stephen especially, tucked into Bridget Murphy's succulent roast lamb with all the trimmings, followed by a chocolate pudding topped with crème anglais, which was too rich for Lucy's delicate stomach to accept more than a token taste. Like a hungry schoolboy, Stephen reached for her bowl and finished it off for her.

  The meal over, he collected the small pile of gifts he'd stowed in the corner of the drawing room, and took himself out to the kitchens where the Murphy family were just finishing their own dinner.

  “Sorry to interrupt. Thank you for a truly wonderful dinner, Bridget. I picked up a few trifles while I was in Scone. Just to say thank you to all of you for your care of my wife since I brought her to live with us.”

  He handed a bottle of single malt whiskey to Will.

  “The good stuff! Ta mate. I was about to say you shouldn't have. Changed me mind when I saw the label.”

  Stephen laughed, and handed a bottle of Persian Bouquet de Rose to Bridget.

  “I know they're your favourite flower, so I hope you like wearing their scent. Girls, I thought you might like these to wear at the next woolshed dance.”

  He handed Colleen and Deirdre jewellers’ boxes containing earrings set with garnets and peridots, respectively.

  When Bridget brought the tea tray to the drawing room a little later, the scent of roses wafted in her w
ake.

  For his father, Stephen had a bottle of Benedictine, Thomas's favourite after-dinner liqueur.

  “Last but by no means least, Dad. It was the only one left at the pub, so I snapped it up.” He waved the thanks aside.

  “You've been very patient with me. I wanted you to know your forbearance is appreciated. Dad, do you mind if we leave you early? Lucy and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

  At the smouldering look he turned on her, Lucy laid a hand over her stomach where happy butterflies excitedly beat their wings.

  ***

  Alone at last, Lucy walked into her husband's arms, intent on giving him a welcome home that would leave him in no doubt regarding her feelings for him, the doubts that had been lingering in her mind laid to rest. All evening he'd made her fully aware of how much he wanted her.

  Stephen might not love her, but want and need gave her plenty to work with. For a follow-up, she planned to tell him her special news.

  It came as a surprise, therefore, when he extricated himself from her embrace and began pacing back and forth.

  “Come and sit down Lu. There are things I need to tell you before we go any further.”

  When he saw worry-lines forming upon her smooth forehead, he relented, smiling reassuringly.

  “Make no mistake, Lucy darling, I want to take you to bed very much and show you how much I love you. But I can't be easy till I tell you everything I've been bottling up.”

  His smile faded, replaced by an uneasy grimace.

  “I just hope you'll still want me after I've finished.”

  He led her to her chair in their sitting room and took the one opposite for himself.

  Lucy was glad he'd stopped his disturbing pacing, but the agitated way he worked his hands, eyes on the Turkish rug beneath his feet, was making her nervous, even though he had just said he loved her. It was the very first time he had done so, though the atmosphere contained more menace than romance.

  Her heart fluttered in her breast.

  Looking up, Stephen caught her eye and a quick reassuring smile flickered on his lips. Taking a deep breath, he began.

  “I'll start with the easy bit first. I love you Lucy. I want you to remember that, because some of what I have to say is going to hurt you. So, hold onto it. I love you. I haven't ever said that to you before, but it's the truth. Something you'll be hearing often from now on.”

  Lucy nodded. At that point, she would have told him of her love, too, only he didn't give her time.

  “I've always liked you a lot, right from when we were children. We grew up hearing our parents talk about us making a match of it.”

  He glanced at Lucy, gauging how she was taking his confession so far.

  “I suppose the idea was there in the back of my mind that when I was ready to marry, it would be to you. It didn't happen quite like that, but near enough. You see, Lu, at the time of our wedding, I wasn't in love with you.”

  Lucy made a convulsive movement, but held back the protest trembling on her lips.

  Really, she thought, it’s no more than I already deduced.

  “We were friends. Good friends, I believed,” Stephen continued.

  “You were so easy to be with, so much fun, and we have so much in common, although you have a mind of your own. You think for yourself, and I like that. I'd hate to be married to someone who parroted my own opinions back at me. The longer we were together, the more I liked you. I didn't realise I was falling in love with you.”

  This time, hearing the tiny sob which escaped before Lucy could hold it back, Stephen reached to give her hands a squeeze. Looking her straight in the eye, he let her see his vulnerability.

  “Everyone else still treats me as a boy. You make me feel like a man. When I'm with you, I feel ten feet tall. Invincible.”

  “Because you are a man, Stephen darling. You're my knight defender; my Galahad.”

  “Oh God, Lu. I'm nothing of the kind. I can't bear it if you hate me for what I've done. I'm so far, far from being any kind of a Galahad. I'm a very imperfect man.”

  “Of course, you're imperfect, Darling.”

  Lucy breathed a sigh of relief, remembering the words of love he’d begun with.

  “How boring utter perfection must be,” she murmured. “Your imperfections are what make you human. They, and how you deal with them, make you the special person you are; different to everyone else.”

  “Yes, well. When you were attacked, apart from being furious on your behalf, and wanting to avenge you, I was terrified by how close I came to losing you. For days afterwards, I could hardly bear to let you out of my sight. I wanted to slay dragons for you. I wanted to wrap you up in cottonwool and protect you from all harm. It was incredibly difficult to allow you to go back to your usual pursuits, even with a bodyguard.”

  Stephen paused. Wiping his hands over his face, he drew in a deep breath. After a quick, agonised glance at Lucy, he lowered his eyes and continued.

  “It was even worse, because I blame myself for what happened, you know. It was a direct result of my rotten behaviour. I began to feel very confused. Very unhappy. Without really understanding why. After that dinner at the McGowan's, I hit rock bottom. That night I needed you so much; and knew I didn't deserve you.”

  Earlier, his face had been flushed; now it was deathly pale.

  “You were so kind to me, Lucy darling, and I was so undeserving. I couldn't face you, Lu. I felt so horribly guilty, for letting you and Dad down, and endangering you and all. That's why I took off with the cattle without saying goodbye.”

  He gulped, seeing pain flash across Lucy’s expressive countenance, then forced himself to continue.

  “The lousy weather was no more than a convenient excuse. I didn't understand what I felt. Those long hours alone in the saddle gave me time to sort myself out. While I was in Scone, I met an old bloke and his wife staying at the hotel. They were so much in love, even after a hard life bringing up a family and experiencing some terrible hardships. I realised theirs was the loving, enduring kind of marriage I wanted with you, Lu. It didn't take long after that to know it was because I had fallen in love with you. I felt I'd been granted a miracle when I deserved to be cast into the Pit.”

  Unable to sit still a moment longer he pushed himself to his feet and began pacing anew. Swinging round to Lucy he clasped his hands behind his back, standing stiffly at attention.

  “That's when I knew I had to make a full confession. I need you to know the absolute worst about me, Lucy, otherwise I'll be taking advantage of you, always worrying; wondering if you'll find out, and hate me for it. I can’t live like that.”

  “However bad you think you've been, Stephen, there's always hope of salvation if you truly repent of your wrongdoing.”

  “Mr Fortescue! Mr Fortescue!”

  Galloping hooves thundered up to the back door of the house, the yelling continuing, even as the rider began beating on the door.

  “Mr Fortescue! Mr Fortescue!”

  20

  Damn them to Hell and beyond! I'll …

  Calm. Calm. Must be calm or I'll ruin all. Steady now. Steady. Let me think this through. There will only be one chance, so let me get it right. Can't allow the verminous bugger to escape at this stage.

  Wait. That's what I must do. Just a while longer now, even though the waiting is unbearable torture. Must wait till they're so engrossed in each other they wouldn't notice an elephant thundering into the room. But it won't be any elephant, will it? It'll be me. Me and my trusty Colt revolver.

  Ha! Won't they sit up and take notice then! Here we go. Tip-toe up the steps, along the veranda to the French doors.

  How convenient. They've left them standing wide open to catch the breeze. That infernal pair don't even have the decency to conduct their evil business behind closed doors. Well, their carelessness is to my advantage now, isn't it?

  Here I am, inside the bitch's bedroom. Steady, mustn't falter now.

  Can't let the sight of their depra
vity overcome me. I've got a mission to complete. There, the Colt is rock-steady in my hand.

  Shall I be all melodramatic and shout out an accusation of their perfidy? No. No warning. Not for vermin such as him. I'll just aim and shoot. Shoot him down like a dingo.

  BANG!

  Done! Look at him there, brains splattered all over the pillows. All over her! Haa-haa-haa-haaaa.

  Now the bitch is looking at me! Now she's taking notice of me! Listen to her screaming that he forced her. Didn't seem to me any force was needed. No sir. He wouldn't have dared to lay a hand on her except by her invitation.

  Close my ears. Close them tight. Don't want to risk being swayed by her treacherous siren's pleading voice, the worthless whore. Ready the Colt, aim … Fire!

  BANG! BANG!

  Agh! My love! My love! You do understand, don't you? You drove me to it. If only you'd kept your promises!

  If only …

  But it's too late for repining. Too late for second chances. The deed is done, and well done.

  Not for a minute could any man, seeing you lying there in your dirty ex-convict lover's arms, doubt the justice of my actions.

  I was afraid you'd taken up with Fortescue's young fool of a son; so glad it wasn't him. So glad you weren't guilty of destroying a boy with his whole life ahead of him. Maybe you weren't all bad.

  Time to go. I can hear shouts from the barracks. They'll be upon us in a minute. Farewell my love.

  I'll meet you in Hell.

  BANG!

  “Josh! Josh Watson, what's the meaning of all this racket?”

  Thomas, half empty liqueur glass in one hand and a cigar in the other, came striding round the veranda. Will, Stephen and Lucy arrived at a run moments later, with Bridget, who'd paused to throw a dressing gown over her nightdress, bringing up the rear.

  “Me Mam sed ta get ye, Mr Fortescue. Quick as I could. There's bin a shootin' over at Far 'Orizons. Ned's gorn fer the police, but they won't be there till mornin'. Mam sed she needs ye ta take charge, like.”

  “A shooting? Who's been shot? Was it an accident? Is the shooter locked up?”

  Josh, confused by the barrage of questions, ducked his head.