by Sonya Heaney
‘Not mention what?’
‘You know. What I said back when we first met.’
Ah.
‘The bollocks or the book? Because I’ve only mentioned the bollocks so far, and—Miss Farrer—I’m sorry to tell you this, but I never promised to forget about it.’
She gripped his side tightly enough to tell him she was unimpressed.
‘I wish you hadn’t such a good memory.’
He kissed the top of her head and smiled against her hair. ‘No, you don’t. Things wouldn’t be half as fun otherwise. Speaking of shocking things you’ve done in recent months, I have a question about Lady Audley.’
‘What about her?’ Her voice was resigned and entertained all at once.
‘How did I compare to Sir Michael?’
She pulled away with an outraged gasp; Peter tugged her back.
‘I cannot believe you’d ask that. How do you know I even finished reading it?’
‘Oh, I’m sure you did. It’s the sort of story that must be read the whole way through.’
A groan. A shake of the head.
‘Well, yes, all right. I did finish it. However, I know you’ve read it. And therefore you know that they don’t discuss anything like … this in the text. There’s certainly no mention of—of …’
‘Bollocks?’ he suggested, and she nearly choked.
‘Would you please stop saying that word?’
He gave the request a lengthy consideration. A burst of lightning struck somewhere in the distance, lighting the tiny window, and thunder cracked over the mountains before rolling away across the sky.
‘At least admit you read it.’
‘Ah, well, even I become tired of numbers every now and again, and a man must do something to pass the time. In any case, it’s a convenient excuse to read such things. Sometimes even bollo—’
‘Mr Rowe!’
More lightning. More thunder. Whomever was up there in the Heavens was still mightily angry with their little part of the world.
‘For now,’ Peter said when they could hear again, and stroked her hair—again. ‘I will stop just for now, but I can’t make any promises about the future. There’s a sequel of sorts, did you know? Maybe Mrs Farrer has the second book stashed away somewhere for you to borrow. Or to hand over to unsuspecting guests.’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘It is only with you that I make such a fool of myself. And so often.’
‘Fools are much more entertaining. Please, don’t ever change.’
‘I’m almost resigned to my fate.’
He held her a little tighter. ‘That’s the spirit.’
As they lay there he told her his odd little story about that seagull in Sydney and its oversized lump of bread, and then about the political rants and raves he’d heard on every corner of the city.
‘I can’t tell you how relieved I am the election is finally over. If I hear one more debate about voting rights, I’ll—excuse me. This isn’t an especially romantic conversation,’ he admitted, lifting his head to catch a glimpse of her face.
‘No, it isn’t, but it’s better that way. We wouldn’t want to become sentimental.’
He relaxed back against the saggy mattress and Elizabeth tucked her arm back around his waist.
‘Miss Farrer, I’m not wholly averse to a bit of sentimentality from time to time.’
Elizabeth turned her face more fully against his chest. ‘Peter …’
His fingers caught in a knot in her hair and he gently worked it free, worried about the change in her voice.
‘Yes?’
‘Can you … Could you live here, do you think? Even when people are utterly awful to you? Or is it too awful? I think anonymity might have been easier for you in the city. I think people take so long to change …’
A gust of wind rattled the hut to its foundations but Peter barely noticed.
‘I’ll admit, there’s not a lot I can do about who I am or how I look.’
‘Hmm. I feel like this is the moment in the conversation I ought to tell you how devastatingly handsome you are.’
He gave her a squeeze. ‘Please, don’t. I’d have to reciprocate by waxing poetic about your spectacular beauty, and then you’d become embarrassed.’
‘No. I’d just accuse you of lying, and then we’d probably quarrel. I’m too exhausted to quarrel today.’ She sobered. ‘You came back. At Christmas, you came back. I didn’t think you would.’
He ducked and pressed his forehead to hers. The wind changed and the hut shook again.
Reluctantly, Elizabeth drew back. ‘What do we do now?’
Peter groaned, knowing he sounded like a man three times his age, and stretched his legs out so far his feet stuck off the end of the bed to touch the wall.
‘We should probably try to return before sunset,’ he conceded. Such as sunset was; the day hadn’t once risen out of its grey haze, but if they didn’t leave soon it would be dangerous to even attempt the journey.
She rested a hand back on his chest. ‘We could stay here …’
‘I doubt that would work well. Your brother will worry, and then feel obliged to come searching for you, and then some new disaster will surely strike. I’ve had enough excitement to last the year.’
‘The year has barely begun.’
‘I know. My point precisely.’
Elizabeth sighed and began to move off the bed.
‘Mr Rowe, I’ve had enough of it, too.’
Chapter 22
Peter knew they’d make it back to Endmoor eventually, but some higher power kept throwing obstacles in their way. He didn’t doubt Robert Farrer was aware he was missing a sister by now, and if they waited much longer they’d all be on a merry chase across the valley in search of each other.
By the time they’d dressed, both of them a little shy with each other now the moment had passed, he pulled the cottage’s door open to discover the rain faded away to little more than a drizzle. Remarkably, when she came up beside him a few seconds later, Elizabeth was able to point out a few blue patches of sky off to the east, the clouds drifting away from the town as a calmness gradually returned to the land.
Still, though, the drizzle was just heavy enough to be a pest.
‘It seems a pointless exercise to dry our clothes only for them to be ruined again,’ Elizabeth said on a sigh but trudged dutifully out the door and off in the direction of home, those old shoes he’d found weeks earlier on her feet—a replacement for her own mud-splattered pair with the torn laces—before he could suggest they wait a little longer.
Peter closed the door just as she stumbled, steadying herself before he could help, and then laughed. She kept her head down, focusing on the uneven trail home, plodding along at a steady pace.
‘These shoes are a little big.’
‘I’ll go back for the gig and pony.’ He was already slowing and looking back the way they’d come.
‘No! No, we’ll keep walking. It’s almost fun trying to get around in these. I’m fast developing sympathy for circus clowns.’ She kept going, lifting her feet higher than she normally would, holding her skirts higher too, to accommodate her odd new gait.
‘I think I should feel more preposterous. I’ll wager you’d never see one of your city girls looking like this.’
Peter was about to tell her there hadn’t been as many city girls as she assumed when she tripped over the boots again and he steadied her with a hand at her waist. It gave her a chance to give him a long perusal.
‘It’s actually really rude of you to look so clean and handsome at the moment. Why isn’t your hair frizzing like mine?’
‘It wouldn’t dare.’
Elizabeth pulled a face at him.
‘I actually don’t know how to get home from here. The landscape’s changed since I was out this way. Please tell me you’ve been this way before.’
‘I’ve been this way before. Don’t worry, I’m not walking you to the ocean. We’re heading in the right direction.’ He checked their
surroundings. ‘More or less.’
And so they continued, clinging to each other now and again when the muck left by the slowly receding water threatened to upend them on their backsides, laughing when they weren’t moaning about how uncomfortable a journey it was.
It was when they were most of the way back that he saw the bogged wagon on one of the side trails, and the young man trying hopelessly to dig it back out. Elizabeth came to a stop when Peter did, assessed the situation, and sighed.
‘We have a talent for finding people in predicaments.’
They truly did.
‘I feel like I have to play the hero for one final time today. The lad looks miserable.’
Elizabeth lifted her chin. ‘All right. I’ll help you.’
‘No. Please,’ he added, ‘go somewhere dry and take your clown shoes with you. If you keep walking this way, you’ll find your way back easily enough.’
She watched the boy another few seconds, undecided, and then lifted a foot for inspection.
‘All right. Knowing my luck, if I try and help I’ll probably just trip into the ditch.’
Peter snorted in agreement.
***
Elizabeth swatted at Peter as they parted ways, prompting a chuckle out of him before she set off down a path that looked more familiar the further along it she went. She was glad there was nobody there to see her the next time she tripped—nor the half-dozen times after that. Thanks to her lack of stockings she’d begun sprouting blisters as soon as she left the hut, but it was unfair to moan about it until she was alone. Peter had done his best with very little.
On she walked, looking back occasionally until she could no longer see him or the boy, occasionally spotting a mob of sheep huddled under a tree. The drizzle eased even more.
She was so busy rescuing herself from a close call with a shrub that had decided to grow in the middle of the track that she missed the man approaching from behind.
‘There you are,’ a familiar, incredulous voice said, surprising her from her thoughts.
Her brother, it seemed, had also commandeered a gig from somewhere. She was enormously relieved to see him, but her feet were even happier about the vehicle. He stopped several feet from her.
‘Robert! You’ve no idea how glad I am to see you.’
‘And you have no idea how relieved I am to find you so quickly. You’ve saved me the need of forming a search party.’ He studied her.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Oh, yes. I’m just out taking a spot of exercise. There’s nothing to worry about.’
They both glared at the sky when it attempted one errant lightning flash, and then he approached slowly, wobbling along on shaky old wheels.
‘Mind the bush. You don’t want to get bogged like the other fellow.’
Robert drew to a stop and scanned their surroundings. ‘Which other fellow?’
‘The one over near the—oh, I have absolutely no idea. He’s somewhere around. Peter was helping him get free of a ditch, and sent me on home.’
She was sure she didn’t trust the way her brother sat up straighter and looked intensely interested at the mention of Peter’s name. Robert saw too much for his own good.
‘So far Alice has kept your secret, the little rascal. However, I’d wager she wasn’t the only one sneaking out to Barracks Flat today to save the world the moment I was gone.’
The thunder hit, far away now.
‘Alice is a good sister-in-law.’ She wasn’t admitting to anything yet.
‘Hop up with me and I’ll take you home. It’s been a very interesting day.’
Elizabeth rested a hand on the horse’s neck. ‘I’ll bet your day was only half as interesting as mine.’
‘I hope to God that it wasn’t. We’ve a lot of stories to share tonight, I think.’
She accepted his assistance up, slamming against his side by accident, and then laughing along with him as they disentangled themselves and settled into their spots on the hard, unforgiving bench, comfortable in the way of siblings, in a way—Elizabeth had to admit—she’d missed. Greatly. Dearly.
‘Mind that bush,’ she reminded him, and he had the grace to not scold her for her fussing.
‘You seem …’ he began.
Elizabeth braced herself for anything. ‘Do I want to hear this?’
‘Well, to be honest, I’m trying to think of a tactful way to tell you that you look a mess.’
She might have been offended, had her body not still been singing, and if she hadn’t recently taken an involuntary swim in the Murrumbidgee … and for the fact she knew it to be true.
‘I’ll be honest with you, I’ve had easier days than this one.’
His smile was gentle.
‘Where’s Alice?’ she asked.
‘Home—now. I found her wading into The Dog and Stile to help—wading! And I knew if I’d said anything to stop her she’d simply stay in there longer.’
‘So what did you do?’
He cast his gaze upwards for a moment and shook his head.
‘I waded in with her. What other option did I have?’
It warmed something in her to be there with Robert, despite the circumstances. They’d been through more together than either of them ever had apart. She’d felt excluded for a couple of years, even though not a single person on Endmoor could be blamed for it. Life changed for most, but until recently hers had very much stayed the same.
Things would change now. She’d miss her brother. She missed him already.
‘It really has been quite the day.’
He grunted.
‘Don’t expect a rest yet, Elizabeth. I’ve the impression we’ll have quite the scene waiting for us at home.’
‘Oh, I’m so looking forward to it. Robert?’
They lurched hard enough for Elizabeth to grip the vehicle, hard. Even the horse snorted at the impact.
‘Hmm?’
‘Before we get there, I want to tell you about Edward.’
***
Endmoor’s grounds looked more or less like they’d exploded. Nothing was where it was meant to be, and as people started trickling back from wherever they’d seen out the storm they began to congregate, standing around and shaking their heads. Alice stood there amongst them.
‘Lord, where’d you get off to?’ she asked when Elizabeth moved over near the stables to join her.
‘The McCoys were in a little trouble. We went to check on them.’
‘We, huh? I suppose you mean you and Martha? Or maybe you and Mrs Hobson? I know it wasn’t you and Robert because he was too busy followin’ me around and complainin’ under his breath.’
Elizabeth might not have been able to look at Alice right then, but she could put an elbow to good use.
‘You know who I mean.’
‘I do. Saw the two of you in a tussle over sandbags. Would’ve been funny to stop and watch, but I was a little busy at the time.’ She elbowed Elizabeth back. ‘I’m ticklish there, by the way.’
‘That’s a good thing to remember.’
Around them bedraggled, exhausted folk laughed and shouted greetings. Now the worst of it was over everyone seemed determined to remember the entire disaster as a bit of a lark.
Hutton trotted past, looking thrilled. He was wet from head to toe and stank with it.
‘The McCoys are all right?’
Elizabeth thought back to Moira and her children scrambling away from the torrent and into the bush. It felt an age ago.
‘They were all right the last time I saw them.’
‘And how about Mr Rowe?’
While her brother’s suspicion had been subtle, Alice’s was delivered with a grin.
‘Alice …’
‘I suppose we’ll see him soon. Now I’ve gotta go and check on Duncan. I’d say he’s about the only person here who doesn’t mind the rain. Give my regards to your man, whenever he returns.’
Off she went, smug as she could possibly be, and probably assuming her ma
tchmaking at the picnic had played a part in what had happened since. She was probably right.
Elizabeth was on the verge of returning to the house, desperate to be out of her soaked clothes and to finally have the chance to brush the wild tangles out of her hair, when Peter walked through the gate at the town road, cutting a tall, imposing, familiar figure with a wealth of hair that still hadn’t frizzled.
He watched her intently as he approached, and it was one of those times she wished he didn’t see her so clearly. The sunnier it became, the scummier she surely looked.
‘Rowe!’
Mr Adamson bustled over from the stables and claimed his attention, and—for the time being—the connection was broken.
There were many, many people who wanted to speak to Peter when he reached the top of the carriage loop. Elizabeth used the toe of her too-large boot to move some debris off the gravel while he was asked his opinion of the situation in town, of the time he thought it would take for the water to recede, and of every other thing he couldn’t possibly answer with any expertise or certainty. Something had shifted in their opinions, and suddenly the suspicious stranger from Sydney was an oracle.
Sneaking off while his attention was occupied elsewhere, Elizabeth bent to pat Gertrude as she passed. The cat was alternately fascinated, by the new sights and smells nature had delivered her, and horrified, that she had to get her paws damp to enjoy them. When the tabby moved on, Elizabeth was about to follow but a dull gleam caught her eye.
Breath hitched, she crouched and sifted her hands through the mess of gravel and leaves, and across the grooves made by wagons that had rolled over earlier in the day. She pinched the filthy gold links of the chain and drew it up slowly, her breath catching for a second time as the chain snagged once before coming free of a twig.
The pendant was a little dirty. The little rows of pearls, however, alongside the sapphires, were all in their fittings, including the largest stone at the bottom. The chain, as well as the rest of necklace, could be saved with a thorough cleaning.
‘Thank God,’ she whispered. No matter what had happened in the past with Edward, losing the piece would not have been for the best.
