“Oh my dear, I know your intentions would have been honorable ones.” There was no condemnation in her eyes.
“You can bring my luggage in.” Helen spoke to no one in particular.
She wore a burgundy velvet suit, simply but beautifully cut, white lace peeking out from the cuffs and collar. Her boots were suede-topped and matched the suit. Regal as a queen, she swept inside, leaving Laurie to help Fergie who struggled with the luggage.
“What a dull, old-fashioned place.” A petulant droop to her mouth accentuated her sulkiness. “How could anyone live like this? I know a firm of decorators in Sydney who do very fine work. They could fix this place up in no time at all.”
The housekeeper waddled off to make a cup of tea, leaving the two of them in the sitting room.
“What made you come here?” Laurie asked
“I wanted to see Blair.”
“Did you? Why? He’s been back from the war for months. Have your snobby friends in Sydney grown tired of you?” An angry flush ran up into Helen’s face.
“Mother told me you were here.” Her beautiful features turned ugly. “I’ve come to tell Blair the truth.”
“You can’t. The doctors at the hospital sent for me because they thought I was you. He was sick, blinded, his memory gone. You have to understand. Please, Helen, don’t tell him yet.”
“Why not?” She gave a malicious smile. “Dear, sweet little Lauren,” she sneered. “Blair thought you were his fiancée. What will he say when he knows how you tricked him into bringing you here? That you are living a lie.”
“They said his memory should come back of its own accord. If you tell him, heaven knows what could happen. I’m begging you, don’t say anything for now,” Laurie pleaded. She would grovel at Helen’s feet if it helped Blair avoid any more suffering.
Fergie brought in the tea and some hot donuts. “Will you pour, Miss Laurie, while I prepare a room for Miss Cunningham.”
The next two hours were the longest, most uncomfortable Laurie had ever endured. Having never really disliked anyone before, she came close to hating her selfish, vain, but oh-so-beautiful cousin.
“Show me around this place,” Helen commanded.
Go to hell. Laurie swallowed the words before they left her mouth. No point making things any worse than they already were.
“Blair will have to pull the whole place down. He promised to build me a double-storied house.
The clump of work boots sounded on the wooden verandah. Laurie froze. Blood raced to her head. Her heart almost catapulted out of her chest.
Blair strode into the room, followed by the other two men. To save her life she could not have moved just then.
“Blair, darling.” Helen darted across the room.
A tremor passed through his body. The color drained from his face, leaving it ashen. His eyes glazed over. He shook his head, as if trying to clear his vision.
“Helen.” One word, uttered with agonized longing, pierced Laurie’s heart.
The other men, sensing something amiss, hurriedly made excuses and left the room.
“Laurie, would you mind explaining what’s going on?” Blair asked harshly.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would pass out of her frozen vocal cords.
“Darling, you can’t really blame Lauren for what happened. Her boyfriend got killed, and you lost your memory. The chance of grabbing herself a rich, handsome husband proved to be too tempting. I did write, saying I was coming. You should have got the letter about three weeks ago.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Laurie finally found her voice, but it sounded so husky she barely recognized it as her own.
Blair’s facial features turned to stone. “You let me think we were engaged? Why you, you conniving liar.”
She shivered at the sheer ferocity of him.
“Helen’s letter. Why didn’t you give it to me?”
“There was no letter, I swear it. This is all a terrible mistake.”
“It’s a mistake all right,” he snarled, “and you made it.”
“You can’t think I would be contemptible enough to tamper with your mail?”
“Three weeks,” he said, in a voice as rough as gravel. “That was the night you shared my bed. Wanted to make sure I’d marry you? Well, you underestimated me,” he continued, his voice full of loathing. “Even a man with half a memory knows when he’s had sex with a virgin, and you weren’t one.”
Even Helen gasped at this blatant cruelty.
The excruciating pain of betrayal ripped through her. His venom shocked her so much she couldn’t find the words to defend herself. Couldn’t ask him why he had cried out for Helen so soon after making love to her. “I’ll leave straight away, of course.”
“You can continue staying here until we make some other arrangement. I owe you that much.”
One part of Laurie wanted to run away right then and leave him in Helen’s clutches; the other part of her loved him and wanted to save him from further hurt.
Helen smiled, all charm now, having successfully denigrated Laurie to such an extent Blair thought of her as a lying, immoral, gold digger.
He was sweating and pale, only answering Helen in monosyllables, yet his gaze never left her beautiful face. He ate her up. Several times he rubbed his hand across his forehead, as if he could not quite comprehend what was happening.
They filed into the dining room, where Blair held a chair for Helen and did the same for Laurie, but he was careful, ensuring that there was no bodily contact between them whatsoever. Did he think contact with her might somehow contaminate him?
Angus and Wally filed in, taking their usual spot without uttering a word. Fergie placed a serving dish on the table.
“I don’t share my table with the hired help,” Helen said. The ensuing silence was deafening.
“Continue serving, Fergie.” Blair’s voice remained even, but a pulse convulsed at the side of his throat.
The beef stew might have been a mud pie. Laurie forced it down her throat. Wally and Angus, obviously embarrassed, stared at their plates.
Helen, with a petulant droop to her lips, rudely pushed her food away after a few mouthfuls. Blair ate morosely, chewing every morsel over carefully. The two stockmen excused themselves as soon as the meal was finished and left the room.
Laurie helped Fergie clear away the table. In the kitchen the plump, usually beaming housekeeper maintained a hurt, puzzled silence.
“I’m so sorry about everything.” While they prepared the coffee Helen required for her after-dinner drink, the whole tragic tale poured forth. Before it ended, tears streamed down Laurie’s cheeks.
“You poor lamb.” The motherly housekeeper hugged her close. “Mr. Blair is a fool if he marries that one. You’d better join them for coffee now, dear.”
“I couldn’t, thanks. I’ll stay here and help with the dishes before I go to bed.” The shock had started to set in now, leaving her drained and exhausted.
“Very well. Share a cup of tea here with me if you like.” The housekeeper trundled off, only to return almost immediately.
“Mr. Blair insists you join them in the sitting room.”
Without a word Laurie rose from where she was slumped on a chair. Rummaging her fingers through her untidy hair, she scrubbed the tears away. Blair, instead of sitting in his usual armchair, now shared the couch with Helen, who rested a dainty white hand on his knee.
“There you are, cousin. Have you been crying? See how you upset Lauren by being such a brute before, Blair? You can’t blame a woman for wanting you, darling. You’re so handsome and rich.” Her honeyed tones dripped insincerity. Helen never worried about anyone else’s welfare except her own.
“Where’s your coffee, Laurie?” Blair asked like an over-polite stranger.
“I don’t want any, thanks.” She could not even look at him, in case he read the desperate hurt in her eyes. Instead, she stared into the fireplace. Every now and again a log shifted, sending spark
s up in little spurts. The room was warm, but had she been sitting on an iceberg at the North Pole, it could not been colder. Blair looked positively savage. How he must hate her.
“Would you both excuse me? I’m feeling rather weary.” Laurie stood up, praying she could maintain her composure until she reached the sanctuary of her bedroom.
A few minutes later as she lay in bed, the tears slipped through her tightly closed eyelids. Everything was ruined. It would be better to return home rather than risk even more heartache, but she couldn’t desert him. She had been working her way through the trauma of Blair calling out for Helen that night and had almost convinced herself it could have been an aberration because of his troubled mind.
It didn’t matter any more. He despised her for the deceit and all the lies, but nevertheless she did love him. Not the impetuous, youthful love she and Danny had shared, but a deeper, more mature emotion. I’ll stay until Blair recovers. Afterwards? She dared not think beyond that point. It would be too agonizing.
*
Breakfast next morning was a solitary one. Laurie slept in late, something she rarely did. Fergie informed her Blair and Helen had eaten earlier and gone out in the buggy.
The rain had stopped, although it still looked dark and sullen outside. Matches my feelings, she thought. Only one way to cheer herself up, a ride on Bolinda Vale after she helped Fergie with the housework. They would definitely need a maid now, with Helen being so demanding. Wanting to be waited on hand and foot.
“Angus and Wally will be eating in the kitchen from now on,” Fergie said.
“Oh no! I enjoyed the camaraderie of having my meals with them.” Helen’s snobbery had ruined that as well.
Laurie packed some sandwiches so she could have a picnic lunch, as the housework took longer than usual. It wouldn’t be worth going for a ride if she had to return for something to eat.
She couldn’t find any of the men, so she saddled Bolinda Vale herself. Soon they galloped across the paddocks. Normally, the wind whipping by exhilarated her. Not today. There was just an overwhelming emptiness.
The creek, a little more swollen than normal, because of recent rain, rushed noisily by. She tethered the filly to a bush and then took a piece of sacking out of her saddlebag to sit on. Her surroundings were peaceful, but she picked at the sandwich, discarding it after a few bites. The way I feel at the moment, I wouldn’t care if I never ate again.
The trees swayed, whispering in the wind. A kookaburra laughed from somewhere close by. Glad someone has something to laugh about. Few people could feel as miserable as her. She squeezed her eyes shut in a desperate endeavor to lock out the pain.
“Laurie, Laurie. Don’t be sad or frightened. I’ll always watch out for you.” The muffled words drifted on the breeze.
“Danny?” She opened her eyes and glanced around. The landscape was empty.
When she remounted Bolinda Vale she kept a loose hold on the reins, and they meandered along, while she pondered on this voice from the grave. It had to be a product of her overwrought imagination. She dared not think of what else it could be. A large blob of rain plopped onto her face.
As the horse plodded along the spots of rain became a relentless downpour. By the time they arrived back at the stables she was drenched, not that she cared. Water dripping from her sodden hat ran in cold rivulets under her collar.
Wally handed her a waterproof cape. “The boss told me to wait here for you and attend the horse, Miss Laurie.”
“Thank you.” She dismounted and handed him the reins, not even bothering to put the waterproof on. It would be impossible to get any wetter.
“I feel terrible about you and Angus being forced to eat in the kitchen. Blair should have insisted your arrangements stayed the same.”
“He apologized and said he wanted things to remain as they were before, but that’s not for me, nor Angus, either. We prefer eating in the kitchen now. The boss was worried about you missing lunch.”
“I took some sandwiches with me.” Laurie grimaced at his shocked expression.
“Not exactly picnic weather, but I understand you wanting solitude.” There was a definite twinkle in his eyes before he became serious again.
“Mrs. Ferguson told us what happened. Angus and me don’t think ill of you. We thought it a brave thing for a little slip of a girl to do. The boss copped it bad on Gallipoli. His commanding officer is related to George McKinlay, and he wrote saying he got blown up and all the men around him were dead. They reckon he lay wounded for hours before the stretcher bearers could bring him in.”
“What can I do? He hates me now.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure. He got mighty upset when you didn’t show up for lunch. Give him time. He’ll soon see through your selfish, vain cousin.”
“Did they go out again, I mean, in the afternoon?”
Wally grinned. “No fear. Miss Cunningham isn’t cut out for station life. Couldn’t get back to the homestead quick enough.”
As they spoke in the shelter of the stable, he unsaddled the horse and rubbed her down. Laurie gave Bolinda Vale a final pat, and the filly nuzzled at her pocket.
“You’re a greedy thing.” She fished out a sugar lump.
“You spoil that horse rotten.” Wally laughed. He was such a nice man, how could Helen be so rude to him?
She plodded towards the homestead with the cape draped over one arm. Her boots sinking into the squelching mud made it difficult to walk. Hardly had her feet touched the verandah when Blair pounced.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried.”
“Worried about me?” She tossed her head. “My clothes are wet, would you mind letting me past so I can change?”
“You had no right going out on your own in such foul weather.”
“Am I a prisoner here? I felt like a ride, so I went. Didn’t notice you waiting around this morning to see if I wanted a guided tour.” She could almost hear him grinding his teeth.
A hot bath warmed her body up but did nothing to melt the ice encasing her heart. Had Blair been worried about her? Did he still care for her? She grasped hold of this thought and clung to it tenaciously. As for Danny’s ghostly voice? It had to be the figment of her overwrought imagination?
In the sitting room Laurie started reading the latest newspaper, then wished she hadn’t. It was full of the latest fighting on the Somme in France. At the battle of Fromelles in July 1916, the casualties were horrific. In less than two days the Australian army had lost over five thousand men.
“What is it, Laurie?” Blair asked. “You’ve gone as white as death.”
“Did you read this, so many casualties?”
“Don’t upset yourself.” He almost sounded like he cared.
He strode over and peered at the article. “God, it sounds worse than Gallipoli. Imagine what it will be like in winter, with illness and disease. Has the world gone stark raving mad?”
“What are you two whispering about?” Helen flipped through the pages of a fashion journal. “I suppose you’re getting all maudlin reading about the war. Personally, I don’t even bother with the papers any more.”
“Look at the casualties. It’s unbelievable, all those poor men.” Laurie’s voice shook with distress.
“Poor men? Honestly, Lauren, you’re the limit. They didn’t have to enlist, working class most of them. Do you know the latest American fashions?”
“Helen!” Blair’s voice had a sharp edge to it. “Men are dying, some of them mere boys, and all you’re interested in is clothes.”
“Sorry, darling.” She smiled. “I can’t bear reading about unpleasant things. You know, I’ve been thinking about those McKinlay people. We should ask them over for dinner one evening.”
He glanced up from the paper. “All right. Saturday week would be convenient.” He kept on reading. Laurie dreaded the thought of meeting these people under the circumstances.
Beautiful, no other word could adequately describe Helen. Laurie hated to adm
it it, but it was true. Shallow, vain, completely and utterly selfish, but what man could deny her anything. Blair, so deeply in love, could overlook her rudeness to his men, forget the way she had deserted him when he was away fighting. It tortured Laurie to see the way his eyes worshipped her, following her every movement.
*
Helen, already acting as mistress of the house, planned everything. Within two days, dinner for the McKinlays snowballed into a dance and buffet supper for half the district. It was being held in the reception room. Her menu proved long and exotic, her complaints numerous, her contribution almost negligible.
On her hands and knees, Laurie polished the floor of the reception room to Helen’s exacting standard, until it was suitable for dancing. No labor of love this, far from it. Her arms and hands felt sore, her back aching, as she knelt on the far side of the room. Another twenty minutes or so thank goodness, and it would be finished.
“What on earth are you doing?” Blair strode across the room with barely a limp.
“I’m polishing the floor.”
“I can see that,” he grated. “Get rid of it.” He snatched up the polishing rag and threw it on the floor, then jerked her upright. “Answer me, what the hell are you doing polishing the floor on your hands and knees. I won’t have you doing the work of a skivvy.”
“Helen said it needed polishing for the dance.”
“What dance?”
“For Saturday night, we’re having a dance, remember?”
“We’re having the McKinlays over for dinner.”
“No. Helen invited forty guests from all over the district for a supper dance.”
“First I’ve heard of it. Still, it’s no reason for you to be on your hands and knees.”
“Fergie certainly wasn’t up to it. She’s got enough to do as it is.”
He muffled a curse. “The floor is all right. There’s a war on. No one expects things to be as pristine as before.”
“Helen wants to entertain in a proper manner, because you have an important position to maintain in the district.”
“Laurie, Laurie, what am I going to do with you?” He tilted her head back with a hand under her chin. “You’ve lost weight. For goodness sake, what have you been doing to yourself?” He sounded almost concerned.
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