by Jasmine Hill
Lillian was risking considerable emotional distress by traveling back to Australia and opening herself up to a whole world of potential hurt, but her options were limited. She had no connections or dependable income to keep her in England.
No, she had no real choice but to take a chance and start afresh in Australia.
Chapter Two
I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror—
The wide brown land for me!
My Country—Dorothea Mackellar (1904)
Australia—August 1921
Lillian stopped and looked around Coolabah train station as she waited for her trunk to be offloaded. She was beyond weary. Between the lengthy sea voyage and the journey from Sydney to Coolabah, she’d been traveling for nearly two months and she longed for nothing more than a warm bath and a soft bed.
She stood uncertainly on the dusty platform, unsure as to how she was to get from the station to the property. A moment later, she had her answer when a tall, wiry-looking man dressed in dusty work attire strolled purposely in her direction. Removing his bush hat, he bowed slightly and introduced himself. He was one of the Mulga Creek station hands come to collect her. Within minutes, he had her trunk secured in the buggy and they were on their way.
Lillian was relieved that she’d been picked up in a buggy and not an automobile. It meant that she’d have more time to prepare herself for seeing Mulga Creek and all it represented. It would give her a period to reconnect with her surroundings and hopefully allow her some reprieve until the bittersweet memories, bubbling just below the surface, would rear up and take her under assault.
As they traveled along the dirt road, she took an avid interest in the environment. Recollections from ten years before swirled through her mind and brought with them overwhelming feelings of both happiness and sadness—memories of a previous life and her only love.
She’d forgotten the desolation of the Australian outback—how dusty and dry it was and how unbearably hot it could be. She was lucky that she’d arrived in winter but the days in the outback, even in winter, could still be warm. She knew that her clothes would be impractical for the environment but there was not a lot she could do about that. Her wardrobe was designed for English weather and she knew that as the days grew warmer, her dresses and skirts of durable, heavy European fabric would be oppressively uncomfortable.
They drew nearer to Mulga Creek Sheep Station and her nervousness increased, making her palms damp and clammy. She’d spent the past ten years trying to forget about William and her memories of their time together, first as childhood friends then as childhood sweethearts, only now to put herself into a position where those bittersweet memories would be thrust to the forefront of her consciousness. She wondered where William was living and whether he bore any resemblance to the young man of nineteen he had been when last she’d seen him.
The buggy rounded a bend in the road and the homestead finally came into view. The house was newly painted white and glowed welcomingly in the midday sun. A garden fronting the residence was filled with hardy, durable flowers and plants—the only type to survive in such a dry and unforgiving climate. Geraniums and wattle bordered a pathway that led to the front door and an extensive vegetable garden took up the right side of the house adjacent to the kitchen.
The sight of the homestead and the sudden pang of déjà vu that it brought with it took Lillian’s breath away, and all too soon they were pulling up in the long drive and the station hand was unloading her belongings.
“I’ll take your trunk inside, miss. Mrs. Thompson has gone into Bourke to run errands. She asked that you wait in the drawing room for the boss. I’ll let him know that you’re here.”
Lillian’s anxiety deepened. She’d expected that Mrs. Thompson would be at the homestead to greet her and had hoped that she’d be present to ease any awkwardness that might arise when James Cartwright discovered her identity.
Lillian followed the station hand into the house and stopped in the hall to assess her reflection in the mirror. The image that greeted her made her gasp in shock. Her hair, which she’d styled so carefully that morning, was coming loose from its chignon and fell in dusty ringlets around her shoulders. And her face, usually of a peaches and cream complexion, was caked in a fine layer of red outback dust. She stepped back and surveyed her traveling attire, unsurprised to find that her skirt and jacket were creased and covered in fine ocher-colored powder. She’d forgotten how quickly the outback dirt permeated everything—even her mouth was gritty with the stuff.
She couldn’t meet James Cartwright looking like she did. She needed to freshen up. Making a decision, she left the hall and went in search of someone to assist her. Finding a maid in the kitchen, she requested a basin of water and a cloth and quickly scrubbed her face and hands. She scraped her hair back and re-pinned the escaped tendrils as best she could. There was nothing much she could do with her attire, so she settled for patting herself all over liberally with the damp cloth. It would have to do. One more inspection of her reflection in the hall mirror confirmed that she looked moderately better.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she made her way to the drawing room. There were subtle changes in the décor. The furniture had been re-upholstered and beautiful hand-worked cushions dotted the room, giving it a comfortable and cozy feel. She picked up a gilt-edged frame and examined the photograph. It was of a woman, not conventionally beautiful, but she was handsome and radiated strength of character through a strong jaw and direct gaze at the camera.
“This must be James’ wife,” she mused aloud then replaced the frame on the mahogany table top and turned to survey the rest of the room.
Spying the piano, she walked to it, running her fingers over the polished wood, remembering when she used to sing and play this same instrument and recalling how William would sit and listen to her with a rapturous expression. She hissed in a breath and drew her fingers back from the piano sharply, not wanting the hurtful reminder of happier times.
Turning, she went to stand by the window, her back to the door, and took deep breaths to quell her anxiety. As she gazed out at the garden, she heard footsteps in the hall then the unmistakable sounds of someone entering through the door behind her.
“Miss Hamilton,” a deep voice greeted her. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”
She turned to offer a greeting of her own and stopped abruptly, gasping in shock as she faced the man standing in the middle of the room. Her hand flew to her mouth and she swayed slightly, her equilibrium tilting.
Standing before her was not James Cartwright, as she’d expected, but his younger brother William.
Lillian stared at him in mute astonishment, her mind whirling and her heart thumping a rapid drumbeat against her ribcage. A range of dormant emotions bubbled fiercely to the surface of her consciousness. Her anguish at his betrayal of their love, the terrible hurt he’d caused her and—strongest but hardest to cope with—the deep feelings of devotion and affection that she still held for him.
She was awash in sensations—shock, disbelief and uncertainty. She’d neither seen nor heard from him since that day ten years ago, when her father had informed her that William was to marry another and that Lillian would be leaving Australia for England.
Wariness and the ultimate need for self-preservation overtook her and she pulled herself together. She stiffened her spine and raised her chin. Looking him in the eye, she waited for him to make the first move.
She saw her own shock and disbelief reflected in his face, but he quickly masked his emotions, expertly affecting an impassive expression as he stood quietly assessing her.
“Well, well, this is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit after so many years?” he asked, his tone mocking
and cold.
Lillian was taken off guard. How could he sound so bitter and accusing when it was he who had betrayed her? And how could he look so calm and collected when her emotions were spinning out of control? She studied him, trying to regain some of her composure.
The years had changed him—he was still devastatingly handsome but more masculine and powerful. He had lost the leanness of youth, his body now strong and muscular and there was a hard edge to his chiseled jaw. His brown hair, burnished copper from the sun, was too long for fashion and fell just below his collar. An unruly lock flopped over his forehead, imparting a rakish air, and his hazel-green eyes held a hard intensity that had not been there before, giving the impression that he’d seen and experienced things that made him view the world differently.
She thought fleetingly of Mrs. Thompson’s letter and her mention of the war and wondered if it had been William to whom she’d been referring. He crossed his arms over his chest, his posture rigid as he waited for her to respond to his question.
“I was expecting your brother,” she said quietly. “I’m the new governess for your brother’s children.”
He raised an eyebrow, a look of surprise crossing his features. “That’s very interesting considering that James has been dead for five years.”
Lillian gasped in dismay but before she could respond, he continued to speak.
“My brother was fatally injured when he was thrown from a horse. The children to whom you refer are mine and I take it that you are Miss Hamilton?”
“Yes, I’m Miss Hamilton, the governess.”
Lillian was reeling from this latest information. She’d assumed when Mrs. Thompson had written of Mr. Cartwright that she’d been referring to James, the older brother. She hadn’t for a second thought that Mr. Cartwright, owner of Mulga Creek Sheep Station, was William. She needed time to think and reassess her situation but she suspected that William was not about to give her that luxury.
“And why do you go by the name Miss Hamilton? Was it to misrepresent your identity?” He cocked his head to one side and studied her. “Or is it the name of your husband and you have represented yourself as unmarried in order to seem a more appealing prospect for the governess position?”
It appalled her that he’d think or even suggest she would be so deliberately deceitful. She was shocked by his accusations and realized that what she had hoped could be a new beginning would bring her nothing but further heartache. It was very clear that William did not want her at Mulga Creek and genuinely believed that she’d been duplicitous in her application for governess. She doubted she could find suitable words to explain her situation. Her thoughts were in turmoil and she suspected a form of shock was setting in. No, there was nothing more for her to say. She needed to leave as soon as possible—only then could she take stock of her circumstances and plan a way forward.
Summoning an inner strength she didn’t know she possessed and struggling not to break down in front of him, she straightened her spine and looked William squarely in the eye.
“Please accept my sincerest apology, Mr. Cartwright. I was led to believe that it was your brother who required the services of a governess. I would not have accepted the offer had I known that it was for the younger Mr. Cartwright. I must impose upon your hospitality this evening. I will arrange to leave first thing in the morning.”
Before her stiff façade crumbled and she fell into a quivering heap on the floor, she swept out of the drawing room, maintaining a dignity that she didn’t feel under the circumstances. Upon entering the hallway, she stumbled down it in a desperate quest of an exit. She needed to find somewhere quiet and isolated where she could think and give vent to her anguish and astonishment.
Chapter Three
William didn’t try to stop Lillian when she fled the drawing room. There was no point. She couldn’t go anywhere and she obviously needed to be alone—as did he.
His heart rate raced with the effects of seeing her again, his pulse roaring in his ears. He’d managed to keep his emotions in check though while outwardly he’d looked composed, inwardly he was in turmoil, his reaction to her presence so visceral that he felt lightheaded.
When she’d turned from the window and he’d caught sight of her for the first time, he had initially thought he was imagining things. It had taken some moments for his mind to catch up with his eyesight and assert that what he was seeing was real and not a vision.
He shook his head, trying to clear it and make sense of the situation. How had it occurred that Lillian would apply for the governess post? Of course she’d expected to see James and she’d made it very clear that if she’d known that it was he—William—who required the governess then she would not have accepted the position. And where was the husband and why in God’s name had the man allowed his wife to travel unchaperoned across to the other side of the world? The last he’d heard was that she was resettling in England with an eye to marry a more prosperous prospect, as if she were a gold-digging floozy. He’d never understood it. Those actions were not the actions of the girl he’d admired and loved. Just the thought of her deceit, even so many years later, made his blood boil.
Cold, hard fury swept through him. How dare she re-enter his life when he’d worked so hard to forget her? He clenched his fists in frustration while he regulated his breathing. Shoving a hand through his hair, he propped his other against the wall over the mantel, pondering what to do. His head was telling him to send her on her way and wave her cheerily goodbye while his heart was insisting that he keep her with him—to lock her up—if that was the only way to make her stay.
To make matters worse, her beauty was undiminished and had only grown and enhanced as she’d matured. He’d barely stopped himself from reaching out to caress her flawless skin. He’d wanted to grasp her lush body and lock her against him. And the sight of those wide green eyes, looking so confused and anxious, had nearly undone him.
“Oh God,” he groaned aloud with suppressed desire. He rested both hands on the mantelpiece and hung his head, emotions warring a fierce battle within him.
Even her scent was the same—a hint of apples had wafted to him when she’d swept past, punching him in the gut with a feeling of déjà vu so intense that it had taken his breath away.
He’d never forgotten the rich color and texture of her hair—a beautiful auburn—a shade he’d never seen on anyone else. And that body! She no longer had a girl’s slight figure but ripe, sexual curves that he could discern clearly beneath the drab fabric of her traveling attire.
William thought about her husband and a surge of jealousy twisted his insides. The fact that the man was able to touch and caress those luscious curves when he, William, should have been the first and only one to do so had a haze of red suffusing his gaze.
How had she even learned that he required a governess and why on earth would she apply for such a post? He hadn’t given her a chance to explain, although what she could say that would justify her actions of ten years ago, he didn’t know.
What should he do now? He was terrified of being hurt again and his gut told him that if he allowed her to stay, that’s exactly the path he’d be heading down—one of heartbreak and anguish.
Lillian had inflicted feelings of betrayal and guilt on him for ten years—betrayal at her desertion of their love and the guilt of never having fought for her. There had been other feelings of guilt too—the guilt of never having been able to love his wife enough. Ruth had been a good and caring woman. However, he’d never been in love with her. He’d cared for her deeply and respected her immensely but his heart had only ever truly belonged to Lillian. And now that Lillian had walked back into his life, William was afraid for his sanity and she supposedly belonged to another. But what if he couldn’t let her go a second time? What would become of him then?
Ten years ago, he’d been a young man of nineteen, barely out of boyhood and still too emotionally immature to have questioned the actions of Lillian and her father. If he had that tim
e over again, he wouldn’t have stood for it. He would have fought for her tooth and nail. Time and experience had toughened him and instilled in him strength of character. He knew that his tendency to command and dominate was not always a benefit, but he liked to think that he would never again be weak-willed or exploited.
He sighed heavily in exasperation. He couldn’t send her away. There was some reason she was here and he wasn’t so vindictive that he would cast her out to find her way alone. No, he would speak to her and reach an agreement.
Now she knew for whom she’d be working. If she’d be willing to stay on, he wouldn’t ask her any questions about her life and he wouldn’t pry into the reasons behind her return to Australia. It was none of his concern and he suspected that further elaboration would only serve to embarrass her and hurt him.
He stared into the empty fireplace and assessed the circumstances. Perhaps if I keep my distance and maintain a purely professional relationship with her, it could work. Even as he told himself that, he knew deep down that he would struggle to remain detached. But keeping his guard up was essential if he wasn’t prepared to risk more despair and betrayal, because if that happened, he didn’t think he would survive it a second time.
* * * *
Lillian found herself in the backyard. She’d fled the house so quickly, her eyes blurry with unshed tears, that she hadn’t realized where she was even heading. She made her way over to a tall Coolabah tree and sank to her knees beneath it, swiping angrily at the tears coursing down her cheeks. She was mortified and furious at William’s unfair accusations. What made him think that she was married? Was it just the name change or was there something else?