by Laura Martin
‘I’m sorry,’ Alice said quickly. ‘I’m so sorry for everything.’
‘Everything?’ he asked sharply. His fear was that their relationship hadn’t been what he thought. That everything had been a lie, the feelings he’d thought she’d had for him a figment of his imagination, a projection of what he had hoped might be between them.
‘I’m sorry for not telling you the truth earlier,’ she said. ‘I was a coward, I didn’t want to jeopardise what we had, I didn’t want you to think less of me. But in keeping it secret I know I caused much more damage.’
George felt a glimmer of hope. He could understand that, the feeling that there was never quite the right moment, the uncertainty of when to reveal something so momentous. At first Alice would have wanted to keep her former life private from a man she hardly knew and then as their relationship grew it would have been hard for her to decide when to reveal such a secret.
‘Tell me about him,’ George said a little softer, knowing that the only way they would be able to move forward would be if she told him everything, as painful as it might be.
Alice nodded, staying silent for a few moments before speaking. ‘I met him in Whitby, when he was visiting family up north and staying in the town. At first he was charming and exciting, seemingly from a world so different to my own. I’d led a sheltered life on the farm and he was offering me a glimpse of another way of living.’ Alice shook her head ruefully. ‘Of course he only showed me the good bits, there was no mention of the poverty in London, the hard work for very little pay. And he was charming, not like later on.’
He could just imagine a young Alice swept away by a rogue. She wouldn’t be now, of course, she was too worldly wise, but at seventeen or so he imagined her sheltered and naïve. As she spoke he felt his stiffness relax a little, felt some of the tension draining out of him.
‘I ran away with him, we got married almost straight away and then made our way to London. It was nothing like I’d imagined. We could only afford a small room in a less-than-desirable neighbourhood. It was filthy and dingy and no amount of scrubbing and cleaning would ever change that.’ Alice sighed and George felt the urge to take her into his arms, but first he wanted to hear just a little more. ‘I don’t think that would have troubled me terribly if Bill hadn’t changed completely. It was as if as soon as we were married he had dropped the façade he’d been projecting and I saw his true character.’
‘Did he hurt you?’ George asked, hating the idea of Alice being scared of anyone, let alone the man she’d put her ultimate trust in.
‘Not often. He struck me once or twice, but I know many women have it worse.’
A flash of rage shot through his body. The idea that anyone had hurt her, that anyone had dared to lay a finger on her, made him feel angry beyond words. No woman should have to put up with that, especially not from the man who was meant to care for them, provide for them. Love them.
‘How did you bear it?’ George asked. He wished he could go back in time, that he could be there when this brutish bully raised his hand and could shield Alice from everything that had come next. George felt a sudden surge of protectiveness and instinctively reached out and covered Alice’s hand with his own. He saw the hope in her eyes, but he needed to hear the rest of her story before he could make her any promises.
‘It was my life,’ Alice said sadly. ‘At first I was too proud to run home, to admit that I’d been foolish and naïve, but as things got worse I knew I could swallow my pride if it meant an escape from Bill, from the terrible life he’d dragged me into.
‘I was saving a little money where I could when Bill came up with his scheme to steal from Mr Havers,’ Alice said, biting her lip. ‘A few more months and I would have had enough for the journey back to my parents.’
George leaned forward, taking both of her hands in his and caressing the soft skin.
‘If that had happened, if you’d left London, then I would never have met you,’ he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. The idea of never meeting Alice made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. ‘And I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think of a life without you in it.’
‘You forgive me?’
There was a pause, a moment when George looked into Alice’s eyes and instead of seeing lies and betrayal he just saw the woman he loved looking back.
‘I forgive you.’
‘I should have told you everything sooner, it just never seemed the right time,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘At first I was determined to keep you at a distance so you didn’t need to know the terrible, sordid details of my past, and then I’d fallen for you and it felt as though I’d already missed my opportunity to be truthful.’ Her words came out in a rush and George smiled reassuringly.
‘I understand, Alice. It was a mistake, nothing more, and we all make those.’
George was thrown back in his seat as Alice launched herself at him.
‘I love you,’ she said through her tears. She’d settled herself in his lap and buried her face in his shoulder so her voice was muffled, but he heard the relief in her voice all the same. ‘I thought I had ruined everything.’
He waited for her to look up, smoothed her unruly hair away from her face and kissed her. ‘I’m rather besotted with you,’ he said with a rueful grin. ‘It would take more than a possibly dead husband to chase me away.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alice woke early, the excitement surging through her and making her want to jump out of bed. It was Christmas Day and she hadn’t felt this level of enthusiasm for Christmas since she was a little girl. Then it had been a magical day, filled with food and family and the anticipation of a small gift or two, a day she remembered warmly. Now she was excited for different reasons, the main one the man sleeping peacefully next to her.
It had been almost a week since Alice had told him about Bill and now they were closer than ever. They had decided to give up the pretence of being anything other than completely in love and Alice had moved into George’s bedroom a few days earlier. She’d expected disapproval from Mrs Peterson, but the older woman had slowly warmed to the idea of a new mistress of the house and was already talking about children.
‘Good morning,’ George murmured as he slowly opened his eyes.
‘Merry Christmas,’ Alice said, leaning in and kissing him.
‘Well that’s a welcome start to the day.’ He closed his eyes again and Alice sighed and shook him none too gently.
‘I’ve been preparing for Christmas for the last month—the least you could do is come downstairs and have a look.’
‘That would be polite,’ George said. ‘Although I thought I might be able to convince you to stay in bed for a few minutes longer.’
He kissed the skin of her neck and back and Alice felt her resolve weakening. Another half an hour in bed didn’t sound like such a bad proposal.
‘I’m sure the decorations will be waiting for us when we do decide to get up,’ he said, his fingers caressing her, making her lose all coherent thought as they snaked across her body.
‘I’m sure they’ll look better when the sun is fully up and lighting the room,’ Alice conceded, tumbling back on to the sheets and shrieking with delight as George quickly pinned her down, climbing on top of her and kissing her until she was breathless.
‘I’m glad you agreed,’ he murmured. ‘It would have been a poor start to Christmas if I couldn’t give you the first of your many gifts.’
Before Alice could gather her wits George had trailed kisses down across her breasts and over her abdomen, kissing the silky curls beneath and then making her cry out as his lips brushed against her most sensitive spot. He kissed and nipped, making Alice writhe underneath him, until she clutched at his shoulders and felt wave after wave of pure pleasure roll over her body.
As he sat up Alice gripped his waist, flipping hers
elf over and pinning him to the bed, her hips hovering above his.
‘Shall we head downstairs?’ she asked, letting her hair fall around her shoulders so it brushed against George’s chest.
George groaned, closing his eyes as she moved against him, the lightest of touches that she could see was already driving him mad.
‘You’re not that cruel,’ he murmured.
Alice paused for a long moment, drawing the tension out before she sank down on top of him.
‘That’s very true,’ she whispered as their hips came together.
* * *
Twenty minutes later Alice was lying with her head resting on George’s shoulder, wondering if she could truly be this happy. They had agreed to forget about their pasts and the future for now and just enjoy what they had together, and since then she had been so much more contented.
‘Now I’m ready,’ George said, kissing her on the forehead and then sitting up.
‘Prepare to be amazed.’ Last night Alice had sent George upstairs, making him promise not to peek, straight after dinner. She and Mrs Peterson had spent the next two hours transforming the downstairs of the house with plants and flowers. It wasn’t anything like a Christmas back home, but Alice had been ecstatic with the result.
Quickly they both dressed, slipping out of the bedroom into the silent house. Alice watched George’s face as they descended the stairs, feeling her heart clench as he broke out into a huge smile.
‘How did you do all this?’ he asked.
Alice looked around her. The hall was decked in wreaths made of ferns, studded with pretty acacia and waratah flowers. Garlands of bottlebrushes added to the festive feel with their bright red flowers. She led him into the drawing room, seeing his smile as he saw the candles placed on all available surfaces ready for lighting later that evening when the Crawfords and Robertsons arrived for dinner. In the fireplace she’d made a huge bouquet of the finest specimens from his garden and she saw the pleasure in George’s face as he knelt down and fingered the dainty petals.
‘This is a very special Christmas,’ he murmured, turning to Alice and gathering her in his arms.
‘Mrs Peterson told me how important Christmas was to you growing up,’ she said. ‘And how your mother used to decorate the house. I wanted to give you a little of that nostalgia.’
‘You’ve done a very good job.’
She took his hand and led him over to the comfortable armchair, motioning for him to sit before she took a parcel from the mantelpiece.
‘It’s not much,’ she said, handing over the neatly wrapped present, ‘But I wanted to give you something meaningful.’
‘You didn’t need to get me anything, Alice.’
‘I did. I wanted to. You’ve changed my life, taken a cynical scared girl and transformed her into a woman who can love again. You’ve given me so much.’
‘It’s not all one-sided,’ he grinned and pulled her into his lap. ‘I get you, remember.’
‘The better half of the deal, of course.’
Alice wriggled in his lap, impatiently waiting for him to open the present.
Carefully, he unwrapped the ribbon around the package and opened the paper. Inside was a little book, bound in leather, the pages of good quality but at the moment blank. He opened it up and out fluttered a pressed flower from the boronia tree that grew just outside the house.
‘I know you collect flowers and plants, and make notes on them, but this is for you to gather it all together in one place and perhaps one day find someone to publish it.’
‘I love it,’ he said, his eyes shining. Alice knew that George was confident in almost every area of his life, but his dream—to publish a book on the native flora and fauna of Australia—was the one part in which he lacked self-belief. So she’d decided to believe in him in his place. This book was the first step in helping him realising his dream.
‘And I love you.’
* * *
Outside it was getting dark as Alice stepped on to the dusty path. Inside the candles were flickering, casting a cheery light over the remains of the feast Mrs Peterson and Alice had spent the last couple of days preparing. The Crawfords and the Robertsons were tucking their children up into one of the beds upstairs and Alice had taken the opportunity to slip out and enjoy the balmy evening. The clouds were rolling in and Alice knew everyone was hoping for rain. It would be a welcome respite from the drought that had plagued Australia for the past few months.
‘Merry Christmas,’ George said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.
‘Merry Christmas.’ She felt contented, happy and loved, but also settled and safe, and for Alice that was important. For so long she hadn’t known where she would end up, but now she knew whatever the future held it would be wonderful.
‘I still haven’t given you your present,’ George said.
Alice turned around to face him, looking at the little box in his hand.
‘It comes with a question,’ he said quietly.
Alice glanced down, biting her lip. He flicked open the box, revealing a beautiful ring inside, a clear-cut diamond surrounded by a ring of sapphires.
‘I know we said we wouldn’t plan too much, but I can’t imagine my future without you. Marry me, Alice. It might not be possible this year, or even this decade, but once we know you’re free, marry me.’
‘We may never know what happened to Bill,’ Alice said softly.
‘Then we shall live in blissful sin for the rest of our lives. But if one day we do know you’re a free woman, then I’m asking you to be mine.’
Alice raised herself up on tiptoes and kissed him. ‘Of course I’ll marry you, I only wish we didn’t have to wait.’
‘I don’t know. Living in sin gives a man a little boost in his reputation in some sectors.’
‘Not a woman.’
‘I promise I won’t ever let anyone treat you badly because of your past or our living arrangements Alice.’
‘I know.’ And she did. Ever since that first day when he’d rescued her from the whipping post he’d been defending her and protecting her and loving her.
George slipped the ring on to her finger, kissing her knuckles as he did so. As he released her hand a fat raindrop fell from the sky, landing on Alice’s cheek. It was followed by another and then another. As the cloud burst above them and the downpour started George took her by the hand and together they ran back to the house, their clothes already drenched.
In the shelter of the doorway he kissed her, running his hands through her wet hair, and Alice felt her heart swell.
‘One day,’ she murmured, ‘one day I will be your wife.’ It was a hope and a promise.
‘You’re my wife already...’ he gestured to his heart ‘...in here.’
Epilogue
‘Give me strength.’
The cultured voice came from behind the closed door and George couldn’t help but smile. He was sitting on a bench, his face turned up to the sun, his legs stretched out in front of him. In less than an hour he and Alice were getting married at the church in the middle of Sydney, but Alice had insisted on stopping off to see the Lieutenant Governor first. He could just imagine her, dressed in her finest silk dress, making her demands of the man who ran the penal colony.
A minute passed and George could hear calmer discussion, then the door opened and Alice emerged, smiling triumphantly.
‘For the sake of my sanity please take your wife-to-be away,’ Colonel Hardcastle said as he escorted Alice out of his office. Despite his words he was still in good humour and George knew that he appreciated Alice’s work for the female convicts.
‘You won’t forget?’ Alice asked.
‘I won’t forget,’ he assured her. ‘I know you won’t let me.’
‘It would make such a difference to the women, a safe, dedicated place for the
female convicts to live, at least for the first six months after their arrival here.’
‘I won’t forget,’ Colonel Hardcastle said. ‘Now go or you’ll be late for your own wedding.’
Alice took George’s arm and together they exited on to the bustling street.
‘You persuaded him, then?’ George asked.
‘Once I showed him the initial outlay would not be very great he warmed to the idea...’ Alice paused before continuing. ‘He’s a good man. I think he does care about the welfare of the convicts, he just needs a little help in seeing what the women need.’
Alice was now a free woman, her sentenced served in full. For the past six months she had become increasingly involved in the politics surrounding the female convicts, using her position in the community to advocate for them, to fight for improved conditions and more equality with the male convicts. She had confided in George that her aim was for no female convict to feel the need to seek the protection of a man, if she didn’t want to.
He kissed her on the head, feeling the heat of the sun on her silky-smooth hair. It was another hot summer, but nothing like the one three years previously when he and Alice had first met.
‘Are you ready to become Mrs Fitzgerald?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.’ The news that Alice’s husband Bill was dead had reached them a few months ago. George’s aunt, who still lived in England, had set a man to investigate for him and after a few months the investigator had reported that Bill had been found dead, floating in the Thames. He’d avoided the hangman’s noose, but it looked as though he’d lost his footing in a drunken stupor and fallen into the murky waters. Alice had been quiet when he’d told her the news, unable to feel much for the man who she had once cared for, but had caused her so much trouble.
One warm spring evening a couple of months ago George had taken Alice outside into the garden which was blooming under their joint care and asked her to marry him again. This time when she’d said yes there were no stipulations or clauses.
