Elsa Goody, Bushranger

by Darry Fraser

  ‘He’s got his back turned. He’ll never know.’

  ‘Eyes on the road,’ she said and kissed him hard on the cheek.

  ‘If that’s all there is now, I’m lookin’ forward to gettin’ to your house,’ he said, gazing into the distance.

  ‘So am I,’ she replied, the marriage licence clutched in her hand.

  In the days after Nebo’s funeral, they’d drawn closer, laughed more, shared more. Jude had needed Ezekiel and the children, and they’d needed him, as she did. It was after one of those days, in the early evening a week or so ago when Jude had driven her home, that she’d made up her mind.

  ‘I have an apple pastry that needs a man’s appetite. Would you join me, Judah?’

  He’d whipped off his hat, kicked off his boots and followed her inside.

  Well, after watching him demolish the pastry, she’d certainly made a good job of seduction, if she did say so herself. When she took his plate away and topped up his glass with an elegant madeira—she’d need to find herself another bottle—she took his face in her hands and kissed him. And when he stood up, happily dazed, she took his hand and walked him to her room.

  How splendid he was without his shirt on. Her gaze had drifted to the thick wad of bandage at his side, nearly ready to be removed, and she reminded herself to be careful of that. But it was the broad flat chest, with its sprinkling of silver and dark hair, that most took her attention. He worked tough, this man, and he’d been tough on himself. The years on him showed proudly and they warmed her heart. She loved him for it, loved the scars here and there, a crude stitch mark, the bent forearm where a break had not healed properly. She ran her hand down to his belly, a little plump, attesting that perhaps he’d started to enjoy life. She loved that, too, and smoothed her palm over it.

  She’d turned for him to unbutton her dress, and she stepped out of it, letting it sigh to the floor. Her shoes shaken away, she waited for his pants to drop. He’d lifted her chemise over her head and loosened the strings on her knickers.

  ‘I’m not youthful anymore,’ she said standing still under his gaze, a game tilt of her chin.

  He took the soft weight of her breasts in his palms. ‘You’re ageless, my dear girl.’ He broke away, looked at her, down, up, stepped in close to crush her back to him. ‘You’re beautiful, Lily,’ he said, into her neck.

  In his arms, she shivered. ‘I’m also a little bit cold. Let’s just get in that bed and warm up.’

  Oh yes, I’m so good at this seduction business. And warm up we did.

  Under the covers, pressed against one another, legs wrapped around legs they’d rocked delightedly, laughing, kissing, loving, with an abandon she was sure young people believed only they owned. Jude was strong and giving, and she enjoyed the easy familiarity, the tacit understanding that this was right, and good, and all theirs.

  How she loved this man. How she wanted more. And in the morning, just as he was to head back to his place to fix fences, he had said he didn’t want to wait to marry.

  Now she gazed happily at Judah. He glanced briefly at her, grinning widely as she waved the paper overhead, before he snapped the reins for more speed. The document she held in her hand meant they could be married as soon as they found a pastor agreeable.

  They took the turn-off into Lily’s driveway and Cricket sped up on the home stretch. As the cart rattled and shook over the wheel ruts, she hooked her arm around Jude’s and pressed closer. It was a grand feeling, this feeling of belonging, of being loved for herself again. This knowing that she could start her life all over with a man she trusted without reserve. A man she knew would be by her side for as long as was forever for them.

  She’d closed her eyes, had her head on his shoulder a short while as her thoughts drifted when she felt him stiffen. Lily looked at him as he stared ahead and turned to stare at what had caught his attention.

  They weren’t far from her house, and she could clearly see that two young women stood on the verandah, one of whom she knew. ‘Loretta. That’s my daughter, Jude. Oh, how delightful.’ But the vision of her daughter gave her a start. There must be something wrong for her to visit unannounced. Perhaps it was about Edward, or Oliver …

  ‘All growed up. Hat, gloves, fine-looking dress. Pacing up and down too. Looks like your daughter might be worried about something, Lily.’

  His voice was soft, and his words worried her a moment. She clutched his forearm. ‘My thoughts, too. I’m so pleased to see her, but this is such a surprise.’ She straightened in the seat as the cart drew closer and waved.

  Loretta’s response was merely a half-hearted, quick lift of her hand. Her companion, standing alongside, seemed poised and prim, her dress similar to Loretta’s. Perhaps a friend who’d accompanied her home.

  Tucking the precious piece of paper into her apron pocket, Lily didn’t wait for Jude to assist her from the cart; she climbed down while he braked. She was well used to getting on and off by herself all these years. Anxious to grab her daughter and hold her in her arms before hearing of whatever terrible news Loretta might have, she clutched her skirt in both hands and ran towards the verandah.

  Loretta met her at the bottom of the steps. ‘Mother,’ she cried, and then, ‘Mama,’ and threw herself into Lily’s outstretched arms.

  Lily’s heart bloomed as she enveloped her daughter in a fierce hug. ‘Good gracious, Loretta. I’m so happy to see you. What brings you home so suddenly?’ As she took Loretta’s shoulders and stared into the so-familiar hazel-eyed gaze, she remembered the other young woman who’d come down the steps. ‘And who is your friend?’

  ‘Mother, this is Miss Cassandra Drake, Bertie’s sister.’

  Well, that sorted his name. Lily made a mental note of it.

  The young woman greeted her solemnly. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Hartman.’ Ebony eyes, blue-black hair, and about Loretta’s age, she’d nodded politely. ‘My brother also sends his regards, as do our mother and father.’

  ‘How do you do?’ Lily responded and when Miss Drake’s gaze went beyond her, Lily held out her arm towards Jude. ‘Loretta, you remember Mr Jones. And Miss Drake, this is Mr Judah Jones who lives on a neighbouring property.’

  The young women spoke as one. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Jones.’

  The warmth of the previous happy greeting had dissipated in a puff of air.

  ‘What is it, Loretta, one of the boys?’ Lily’s hand slid to her daughter’s. She squeezed it. ‘What’s the matter? Why are you here out of the blue without letting me know?’

  ‘I wrote I was coming today.’

  Lily did not believe that. Unease crept through her as Loretta glanced at Judah.

  ‘Miss Loretta, I’m happy to see you again. It’s been a very long time.’ He introduced himself to her friend. ‘Miss Drake, I am pleased to meet you. But now that I have delivered Lily back here, I’ll make my way home, leaving you ladies to your afternoon.’ He said to Lily, ‘If there is anything you need me for, you’re to come and get me.’

  She smiled at him, a hand briefly on his arm. ‘You needn’t go now, Jude.’

  He looked at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his voice kind. ‘I think I do. Perhaps Miss Loretta needs to talk to you in private.’

  ‘Wait,’ she breathed to him. Facing Loretta, she asked, her voice steady but her heart rocking, ‘Are your brothers well?’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’

  Relieved but bewildered, she gave a little laugh. ‘Then it can’t be bad news.’

  Jude’s callused fingers touched her cheek, ever so gently. ‘You ladies have a lot to catch up on.’ He took her hands to his chest, pulling her close. ‘We have a date to make, my love,’ he whispered.

  She knew then why Loretta had come, and knew that Jude was aware too. ‘We do, and we will. Do not doubt me,’ she whispered in return, then on her toes kissed his cheek, allowing the two girls to see. She said to him loudly enough, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Jude.’

  Lily’s mood lifted. His kindness, his
perception that she and her daughter would need time alone was not lost on her. As she watched Jude doff his hat and walk away, she now wished he’d tied his horse to the cart so that he’d have a ride home. Still, it wasn’t a long walk for him and—

  ‘Mother. It appears I was right to come.’

  Turning towards her daughter, noting the tight indignation in Loretta’s voice, Lily smiled. ‘I’m parched for a cup of tea. Come on, girls.’ She headed up the steps, arms wide, herding them along with her. ‘You must tell me all about your travel and how long you intend to stay.’ The little tremor under her rib cage didn’t surprise her. One way or another Lily would have a battle on her hands, either with her daughter or with herself.

  Settling in Lily’s small parlour, tea in the pot and the first cup poured, the girls told her that they worked at big houses next door to each other.

  ‘Cassandra’s employer has closed the house for a week to visit a sick relative and has given her leave,’ Loretta said, sitting very straight in her chair. ‘Without wages, and having to find somewhere else to lodge while they were away, we decided that we could possibly take this break together.’

  How strange; hired help often had shared quarters within a big house. What was a young woman to do without a roof over her head? Some people were more than thoughtless. Poor girl.

  Cassandra nodded, a small smile lighting a youthful face. Loretta’s own fresh smooth features were only beginning to take on some maturity. Barely women, Lily thought of both girls. Just on the edge of it, with their whole lives ahead of them.

  Loretta went on, her shoulders back. ‘I told my employer that I thought you were not well and that I needed to travel home quickly to ensure myself of your wellbeing. They were very kind, giving me the time. They needn’t have.’

  Lily realised that Loretta had deliberately misinformed her employer, for her own end, of course. She gave a short laugh. ‘As you can see, dear girl, I’m quite well.’

  ‘And because Cassandra was free to come as my companion, we thought of it as a holiday,’ Loretta went on. ‘We only have one week to travel to and fro, so the visit is short. We misjudged how long it takes to come here from Melbourne, so we must start our return tomorrow to be back in time.’

  Loretta was after something; she wouldn’t have misjudged a thing. Disappointing. ‘Tomorrow? Oh, that’s hardly any time at all,’ Lily cried lightly. ‘Certainly better than nothing, though,’ Lily said when Loretta frowned. Definitely after something. She poured each another cup and glanced at Cassandra, who shifted in her seat, then dabbed at her mouth with the serviette. No one had touched the little silver tray with freshly baked jam drops on it.

  Loretta glanced at her companion, who stood, cup and saucer in hand and excused herself. ‘I’ll take some fresh air on the verandah, if you don’t mind, Mrs Hartman, and take my tea with me.’ She almost bobbed as she passed Lily’s chair. A rehearsed departure.

  Lily carefully set down her cup. ‘If you’re to leave tomorrow, my dear,’ she said to her daughter, ‘you must speak your concerns quickly, for if nothing else, I know you’re up to something.’

  Loretta blushed, no doubt at the tone in Lily’s voice as well as the implication. She too put down her cup and folded her hands in her lap. ‘Mother, seeing Mr Jones here confirms my suspicions about what it is you thought you’d so carefully tried to disguise in your letters.’

  ‘Is that so? And what is that?’ Lily maintained a small smile.

  ‘That you intend to marry again.’

  My girl is so snippy these days. ‘It’s true, I do,’ Lily said, ‘and it’s come around more quickly than even I had thought.’ At the shock on her daughter’s face, she continued, calm and trying to sound reassuring. ‘Loretta, my dear, whatever you might think, I do have a life left to live. Your father has been gone for some time,’ she emphasised.

  Loretta pressed her lips together, then, ‘I—we, Oliver, Edward and I don’t wish that you marry again,’ she burst. ‘It’s as if you’ve forgotten our father.’

  Lily gave a worried sigh. ‘That’s not true.’ She reached across the table between them to take Loretta’s hand, but her daughter pulled back.

  ‘We think that this Mr Jones is out to get your …’

  ‘My what?’

  Suddenly unsure of herself, Loretta took a deep breath. ‘You’re pushing aside our father’s memory for him,’ she said sharply.

  Lily knew that was not all her daughter had intended to say, but she’d heard the plea in Loretta’s voice. ‘You—all you children—and I will never lose the memory of your father. Not ever,’ she said softly.

  ‘Your marrying again diminishes that, dishonours it,’ Loretta cried and tears, borne out of the vehemence now in her voice, popped into her cheeks. ‘You’ll lose this place to Mr Jones. It will belong to him and his family.’

  That astonished her. Her children seemed worried about their inheritance. She’d not seen that in any of them before—none of them could hardly bear to come home to the farm, and now they were worried they’d lose it. Speechless, she stared at her daughter.

  ‘You won’t be here for us,’ she wept. ‘We won’t have you to share our memories of our father—’

  ‘I’ll always be here for you.’ Lily held herself back in the face of her daughter’s distress.

  Loretta sniffed. ‘I’m to tell you, from all of us, that we forbid you to marry.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Surely Lily had misheard.

  Loretta didn’t look at her, instead grabbed her cup and took a slurp. ‘One day, one of the boys will have the farm—Oliver stands to inherit but he’s not sure he wants it, and Edward, well, is Edward. He’d sell it as much as anything. I’ll be married. I’ll need you. And where will you be? With him,’ she seethed, pointing outside. ‘I don’t want my father’s memory pushed aside. I don’t want another man to take the place of my father in your affections.’ The outburst had run its course. Red-faced, Loretta set down her cup again and tried to pour a refill. A shake in her hand prevented her filling her cup, so she gave up. She said, ‘You’ll betray our father. Us.’ But still she hadn’t looked at her mother.

  Lily sat in silence. Her children were jealous of her, of material possessions—inheritance had entered the tirade—but were also jealous enough to try to keep all others from her door. Had it not crossed their minds that she deserved another chance at happiness with a man of her choice in her life?

  She sighed. When Stan died, Loretta had been only thirteen. Old enough by law to be married off, although, God forbid, that hadn’t happened. Barbaric consent law. Of her three children, Loretta had been closest to her doting pa. The shock of his dying had left her scarred, the young teen’s grieving fused in, and she couldn’t accept it.

  Lily reached over again and took her daughter’s hands. Reluctantly, Loretta allowed it. She waited a beat until she was sure her daughter would let her speak. ‘No one will take your father’s place.’

  Quick as a wink, Loretta asked, ‘You won’t remarry?’

  Lily frowned at her. ‘You will give me the respect to hear me properly, to listen.’ Her daughter dropped her chin but didn’t move away. ‘No one will push our memories aside.’

  Loretta scowled. ‘If you marry, we’ll have to share everything with another family,’ she said.

  Lily gave her a look. ‘That would be lovely if ever the three of you came home once in a while.’

  Loretta’s mouth fell open. ‘I work, and the boys are studying. We can’t just drop everything and—’ She stopped, seemed to have heard herself.

  Lily nodded. ‘Indeed. I know you have your lives to lead, and I’m happy for it.’ She patted Loretta’s hands. ‘You’ve indicated perhaps you and Bertie might soon be tying the knot. So far, I haven’t heard any more news on that front.’

  ‘Nothing to tell,’ she said, too sharply. Loretta’s blush burned. ‘Besides, that’s different.’

  ‘It’s just as important for you to live your life as it is f
or me to live mine.’

  ‘We won’t come to the wedding,’ Loretta burst, her lip curling. ‘We don’t give our blessing. We will hate him, despise him.’

  Lily took in a sharp breath. ‘How beneath you, Loretta.’ She could cope with the immaturity but hadn’t noticed earlier that her daughter had developed a sneer, a haughty twist on her mouth that made her look petty, nasty. It distorted her beautiful features, and the desperation in her shrill voice tore at her, broke her heart. ‘Look at you, believing you have a right to speak so churlishly.’

  Loretta sobbed. ‘Why would you do it to us?’ She pulled a handkerchief from her dress pocket and dabbed her eyes.

  Lily’s hand went to her own pocket and felt the paper there, felt it crinkle under her fingers. ‘Loretta, I’m not doing anything to you. You are not babies. I don’t need a man, I want one. Judah Jones. And if I marry, it is for me.’

  Loretta looked up again, hopeful.

  Lily held up a hand. ‘I will marry, but it’s not to slight you.’ She sat up straight. ‘As for your suggestion that our property will be absorbed into Judah’s, I should remind you children, and you especially being a young woman, to revisit the Married Women’s Property Act, of which I am reasonably well acquainted.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You might also inform your brothers—who don’t actually sound deserving of the farm—and your beau for that matter, that whatever a woman brings to the marriage, she is within her rights to keep as hers.’ Loretta’s mouth dropped open again. ‘It is a plain fact,’ Lily confirmed. ‘Tell your brothers that their inheritance of this land is intact but that if I choose to leave part thereof to you, I will do so. In fact, now I’ve mentioned it, I’ll consult with our lawyer, Mr Milton, on that very thing, as soon as possible.’ It didn’t seem as if Loretta could close her mouth, so Lily went on. ‘Now, I’ll tell you another thing plainly. I love you children, and I love that you’re making your way in the world as responsible adults. But this woman,’ Lily tapped her chest, ‘your mother, has found no better man living than Judah Jones, and I will marry him. What you decide to think of that is up to you.’ If she’d had any guilt about marrying, it had been completely banished. She sat back, taking her cup, and sipped cooled tea. ‘It must have escaped your notice that I am also a person in my own right, not just your mother, not just working this place by myself all these years for your benefit only,’ at which Loretta bit her lip and looked away, ‘and certainly not just as a widow who has nothing left to live for.’