Wife to Order: An Australian Outback Romance

by Lucy Walker

  She walked away down the passage to her own room. She shut the door behind her so that neither Hannah nor Oliver would see her take the shoes from under that bed, but the door latch did not click to a lock.

  She crossed the room and stooped down and picked up the shoes. When she straightened up she knew by the cool draught of air that the door had opened.

  She turned round. Oliver was standing there.

  There was a silence between them for a moment, then Oliver came into the room, shutting the door behind him. This time the lock clicked.

  He walked across the thick pile of carpet and took the shoes out of Carey’s hand. His eyes had a probing question in them.

  ‘Why did you take them, Carey?’ he asked.

  She looked up at him. For a minute she had an overwhelming temptation to tell him. In another minute she would have broken down but she remembered suddenly that amongst other admonitions Oliver had told her to ‘grow up’. It was the ‘tiresome little girl’ theme all over again. And of course she couldn’t tell him the truth about her fear of Jane’s searching eye and mocking smile. Nor even mention Jane at all.

  She pulled herself together. She must stand between him and that chair where his shirt was hung.

  ‘I might be going to make you a pair of socks,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Who knows? I’ll have to do something in the winter evenings. Now you have the shoes you could change into them … and … well … and be able to get on with your work, Oliver.’

  Some change seemed to go through Oliver. He drew in his breath.

  ‘You are still afraid of me, Carey, aren’t you?’ His grey eyes looked deep into her blue eyes.

  Carey went over to her dressing-table. She moved a silver trinket tray with one finger. She did not look at Oliver again.

  ‘Any girl would be afraid of a strange man in her room,’ she said at length and a little sadly. She watched the shining tray moving slowly across the glass surface of the table as her finger propelled it forward. ‘And you are strange to me, Oliver. I do not understand you. And you do not understand me.’

  ‘Yes, I do understand you, Carey,’ he said, still standing three yards away. ‘You are a child who refuses to grow up.’

  Carey turned round.

  ‘How do you know that I am only a child, Oliver?’

  He frowned.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Again the truth was on the tip of her tongue … Why don’t you tell me who comes and goes on Two Creeks? Why must I remain in ignorance of Jane’s visit? And why don’t you treat me as your wife? Your real true and loving wife?

  The very humiliation of what she guessed was envy of Jane and that easy nonchalant approach between Jane and Oliver kept her silent.

  ‘Would you please go, Oliver,’ she said gravely. ‘I want my room to myself.’

  It was very seldom there was no smile on Carey’s face. It was markedly absent now. Oliver noticed the difference. It was his presence that caused that difference.

  ‘Very well, Carey.’ He went to the door and opened it. ‘If you care to come down to the stables in the morning I’ll give you and Tony a couple of horses to play with.’ There was an edge of bitterness in his voice as he emphasised the word ‘play’.

  He was gone, and the door closed firmly behind him.

  Carey drew in a quavering breath.

  ‘So ends a not-so-perfect day,’ she thought. She went to her bed and sat down on it. As she moved she heard the rustle of the letters in her pocket. She took them out, and one by one looked at them. She lay back on her pillow holding the letters; and wrote letters in her mind. They were to everyone who loved her in Wybong. They were pleas and she would never send them, she knew. But the pretence eased her heart.

  An hour later Oliver, irritated by a restlessness that would not let him work, came to her door. It was the absence of Carey’s smile that had stung him most. He had a cup of tea which he had made in the pantry. Carey was lying back on her pillow, the letters were still in her hand and her lashes lay like twin fringes on her cheeks. On her pillow under her cheek was a shirt. His shirt.

  Oliver put the tea cup on the table and stood looking down at Carey. Then he bent over her and lifted her feet so they lay comfortably on the bed, and drew the shirt from under her head. He slipped off her shoes. With the movement Carey drew in a sigh that was half a sob as if in her sleep she was weeping. The letters dropped from her hand.

  Oliver stooped and picked them up from the floor. A loose leaf lay face down and as Oliver picked it up he turned it over. It contained the last two lines of a letter.

  So Carey love, I’ll be with you Friday.

  And a saddle bag full of nice surprises I’ve got for you.

  Love,

  Ever Yours,

  Harry

  Oliver folded the sheet and put it in its envelope. He pushed all the letters under Carey’s pillow. He took a light rug from the window-seat and spread it over her.

  Carey sighed and turned over. Again there was that sob in her quick indrawn breath.

  Oliver stood looking down at her. He brushed his hand over his forehead, and then turned, picked up the unwanted tea cup and the crumpled shirt and as he went out of the room he turned off the light.

  Chapter Eleven

  Millicent’s arrival was in capital letters. It belonged to the same order as the arrival of VIPs. She swung her big car up the drive and round the circus in front of the homestead steps at an imposing speed. She braked with deliberate importance. She got out of the car and shut the door in a manner that was not a slam but which nevertheless announced her arrival with a full stop.

  It was sundown and the shadows of the tall gums lay like black strokes across the gravel track. A pair of kookaburras set up a laughing match in the trees over by the garden fence. Oliver’s dog ran round the side of the homestead, barked once and then stood still and looked at Millicent, ears pointed. He wagged his tail once only … good measure of canine manners … then stopped.

  The roustabout appeared round another corner before Millicent had taken one step, and Hannah stood in the open door patting down her white apron.

  Carey was at the drawing-room window and watched Millicent address the roustabout on the subject of her luggage and then look up the steps towards the open door and Hannah.

  Beyond Millicent and her car the sun was disappearing over the western ledge of the world. Everything in the paddocks was still, and watchful. The white stables, down by the tracks, were like painted houses on a painted screen. Nothing moved or sounded except Millicent’s steps as she crossed the short gravel space and mounted the stone steps of Two Creeks.

  Then her voice could be heard and a sort of minor well-bred commotion broke the evening peace.

  ‘Oh, there you are, Hannah! See that William takes my case up to my usual room, will you? And William … kindly don’t scratch the surface of the case. If there’s anything I detest it’s careless handling of good leather work. Hannah … is my brother in from the run yet? And I suppose my sister-in-law is somewhere about?’

  Sister-in-law! Good heavens, Carey thought, I hadn’t realised I was anything as related as that. But of course I am.

  She went to the drawing-room door as Millicent entered the hall.

  Did she kiss, or shake hands?

  Millicent settled that by saying: ‘Oh, hallo. There you are!’ then hunting in her handbag for her keys to give to Hannah.

  ‘Just put everything in the usual place,’ she said to Hannah and then turned to Carey. ‘I’m dying for a cup of tea. I suppose there is one about. Hannah usually has one ready for me. Is Oliver in yet?’

  ‘Do come in, Millicent,’ Carey said, standing aside so that Millicent could enter the drawing-room. ‘Yes … I arranged for some tea to be ready for you; and no … Oliver is not in yet.’

  Millicent stood quite still in the middle of the big, charming room and looked around.

  ‘You haven’t altered anything. Well, thank goodness for that.’ She
sat down in a button-backed arm-chair, crossed her feet at the ankles and placed her handbag and gloves on a round polished table beside her. ‘You do, of course, realise that this room is original period? I mean the room is furnished as it originally was furnished by our great-grandparents … and is now period in the sense it is a show piece. Not a single thing in it is imported or has been added. Those rosewood tables now … and of course, these chairs …’

  ‘Yes, I do know,’ Carey interrupted her gently. ‘I wouldn’t dream of altering anything in a room as unusual and unique as this room, Millicent. If I want to have any ideas of my own I’ll have them in the new part of the homestead.’

  ‘Well, don’t do anything without consulting Oliver. And of course he will refer anything like that to me … just as a precaution, of course.’

  Carey laughed. It was a clear friendly tinkling laugh. What else could she do?

  ‘Any alterations are a long, long way away,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t get anxious about them just now.’

  ‘I was really more concerned with the curtains and window fixtures. At this time of the year I usually have them attended to. I thought I’d better come out before the gymkhana begins to take up everyone’s time. I think we’d better begin with the curtains in here, in the small sitting-room, and Oliver’s study. There are alternative curtains to put up while these go to the dry-cleaning people.’

  ‘I’m very glad to see you, Millicent,’ Carey said. ‘You haven’t given me an opportunity to say so yet. Do you think I’m looking well?’

  Millicent looked as if she was going on with an endless stream of spring cleaning activities. She stopped in mid flight and looked across the room at Carey.

  ‘Well, yes. As a matter of fact, you do look well. I’m very glad to see you are looking well, Carey.’

  ‘And I suppose you are wondering if Oliver looks well? He does, you know. Very well.’

  ‘I was not wondering that at all, Carey. The Reddins are a strong and healthy family and they always look well. It never occurs to me to wonder in any way about Oliver’s health. Oh, here’s Hannah with the tea. Put it here on this table will you, Hannah? I can pour without getting up. That drive is a long boring one … even if it is very fast in a big car on that main road.’

  Hannah stood quite still in the middle of the room with the tea-tray in her hands. She looked at Carey. Carey smiled.

  ‘I’ll save you the trouble of pouring, Millicent,’ she said, getting up. ‘Put it here, Hannah, will you? I’m sure Millicent … after that long drive … will be relieved not to have any chores for a day or two.’

  Hannah put the tea-tray on the table Carey indicated, across the room from Millicent, and as she went out Carey hurried on with what she was saying, not allowing Millicent to interrupt or assert her authority over the matter of who poured out the tea at Two Creeks.

  ‘You have such a lot to do in Melbourne, Millicent. And all your committee work, too. Then, of course, there is Cranston and your constant care of your mother. I think you’re really wonderful the amount you cram into your life. And I’ll always be grateful for the magnificent and effortless way you ran that wedding.’

  She was pouring the tea as she spoke and she now carried the cup and saucer to Millicent and then placed the milk and sugar bracket on the table beside her.

  ‘Please do have a little rest while you are here. I would so like it to be something of a holiday for you.’

  ‘Oh … if you only knew how I need a holiday!’ said Millicent, putting her tea on the table. She leaned back and studied her hands. She looked up. ‘You’ve no idea what a strain it is keeping up a position in Melbourne. Of course you wouldn’t have had any experience of that kind of thing, Carey. But when one has position, one has responsibilities. There is every kind of charity organisation under the sun wants one to do committee work. Of course I always give my time first to the Red Cross and the military hospitals. Then there’s Mother …’

  Carey, sipping her own tea, nodded sympathetically. She felt a genuine sympathy. The close-packed day-to-day programme of one who led the well-bred life in a city!

  ‘I hope Mother …’ Carey blushed and corrected herself. ‘I hope Mrs. Reddin will come and stay for some time on Two Creeks. It would give you both a holiday.’

  ‘My dear child, you do not know what managing Mother is like. If I didn’t keep a weather eye on her the whole time she would have the Reddin family under censure throughout Australia.’ She looked at Carey. ‘When one is old, you know, it is very easy to let one’s standards slip. I mean take the easy way out. So many people have, you know. Serving dinner in a buffet style. Can you imagine it? I simply won’t permit it at Cranston … or Two Creeks either for that matter. If someone is worthy of being asked to dinner … then dinner should be served properly.’

  Carey had a fleeting vision of herself putting a huge meal on the table in the centre room on Uncle Tam’s grazing block and calling to the stockmen, ‘Come and get it!’ and the stockmen crying, ‘Whacko, it’s on!’

  When one didn’t have servants what else was there to do?

  Also she wondered how to go about stopping Millicent calling her ‘my dear child’. She wondered why neither Oliver nor Millicent would let her be an adult.

  ‘Oliver likes to carve the joint at the table,’ Carey said, nodding her head.

  ‘And that reminds me,’ said Millicent. ‘Yes, please, I will have another cup of tea. Yes, that reminds me … Jane Newbold will be here at the end of the week. I expect she will stay a few days. She will have the front guest room as usual. I was wondering if we had better leave the present curtains there for the time being.’

  Carey tried very hard not to blush and not to let her voice shake.

  ‘That is my room now,’ she said as matter-of-factly as possible. More than anything else she regretted telling Millicent that she and Oliver used different rooms and that the big front room that had once been Millicent’s parents’ had not yet been prepared. ‘I think I would like to refurnish the big bedroom on the other side of the passage before I … we … use it.’

  That ‘we’ only just crept out and Carey found her fingers pressing down the pleats at the side of her dress with a kind of nervous desperation. Fortunately Millicent was concentrating more on the audacity of refurnishing a Two Creeks room than on Carey’s faltering ‘we’.

  ‘My dear child …’ she began.

  ‘Do you think the room next to yours would be nice for Jane?’ Carey asked, wondering why her brain was still functioning when her nervous system was going into a top spin. ‘It’s such a charming room. And you know, Millicent … it might sound a silly thing to say … but those blue curtains and the blue carpet would somehow just set off Jane’s red hair. I mean I can see her standing in that room. And the blue behind her … Jane is such an awfully effective kind of person, isn’t she?’

  ‘I’m glad you admire her,’ Millicent said, mollified. ‘So you ought to do, of course. Her looks are quite the most celebrated in Melbourne. Her looks … her money … her position! Yes, Jane has everything!’

  Yes, everything, thought Carey soberly. But why didn’t Oliver marry her?

  Her mind winced away from the thought because she suddenly could see exactly why Millicent called her ‘my dear child’ and Oliver treated her as a child … not so dear. Beside Jane she would look slight and insignificant. And she didn’t have money, or position.

  Again her thoughts flew back to Wybong.

  But she had love. She was sure she had love in Wybong.

  ‘It will be nice for you and Oliver having an old friend staying next week-end,’ Carey said. ‘Because I have one, too. Harry Martin is coming down from Wybong and he should be here by Friday.’

  Millicent frowned.

  ‘Harry Martin?’ she asked, puzzled. ‘Oh, you mean the man who’s going to do the fencing on your farm. Well, that will be nice for you. Being a fencer he will, of course, stay down at the quarters.’

  ‘He is my friend a
nd Uncle Tam’s friend. Besides, he’s not a fencer, Millicent. He’s a contractor and at Wybong he is a very important man.’

  Millicent had finished her tea and she now stood up.

  ‘My dear child … Wybong is not Two Creeks. I hate to say it to you, Carey, but you will have to learn it in time. Wybong is not even on the pastoral map and life there would be very primitive compared with the old-established parts of Victoria. I think I’ll go upstairs now and have a bath before dinner.’ She had reached the door. ‘Oh, by the way, Jane is up at Mount Macedon for a few days’ rest. She thought of calling in on her way up to let you know she’d be staying this week-end. I suppose she didn’t have time.’

  ‘She may have seen Oliver somewhere out on the property,’ Carey said, turning away not only to put the cups and saucers together on the tea-tray, but also to hide her face as she tried to evade the implications in the fact that Jane had called in, had seen Oliver, and Oliver had not told her, Carey, the portent of that fleeting visit.

  And as for Wybong being primitive! She wished Millicent could see Cartheroo station with its own aeroplane, its concrete swimming-pool, its silent swivelling fans in every room, its refrigeration plant, its everything. But how did anyone tell Millicent anything? It would be like flatly contradicting her. And Carey could never bring herself to do that to anyone.

  Of course Uncle Tam’s homestead now … Well, maybe Millicent was right. Cartheroo might be a millionaire property but Uncle Tam’s homestead was certainly not.

  Millicent’s thoughts were still on Jane.

  ‘Oliver didn’t mention anything to you?’ she asked, one inquiring eyebrow raised.

  Carey now had to face the other.

  ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘Oliver doesn’t mention very much to me. He is very busy, and you see … I have Tony.’

  Millicent was silent a minute.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘So it is like that, is it?’