by Téa Cooper
He scuffed his boots in the dirt. Why did he feel as though he’d failed, failed miserably? He’d done the best he could. And it hadn’t been good enough. He dreaded breaking the news to Denman. He’d set his heart on living out his life on that block of dirt. ‘Nah. Didn’t get it. Outbid.’ There, it was said.
Olivia reached out her hand, squeezed his forearm. ‘I’m sorry. I know you had your heart set on Rossgole. Denman too.’
‘Nothing to be done.’ He shrugged her off, turned before she could see how deeply the whole fiasco cut.
‘Sure you don’t want anything? Cup of tea? Something stronger?’
He shook his head. ‘A decent night’s sleep’ll see me right.’
‘Come up to the farmhouse for breakfast before you go. Lettie’ll want to see you. Might do her good, get her out of William’s bloody study. She’s become as obsessed as he was about this bloody nonsense.’
‘Leichhardt or Evie?’
She nodded her head, acknowledging the truth. ‘Evie, more ’n like. Failure sits hard on young shoulders.’ She threw him a knowing look, handed him the lamp, whistled softly through her teeth for Oxley and disappeared into the darkness, shotgun tucked snugly under her arm.
Oxley woke Nathaniel just as the sun crested the rise, sent no doubt by Olivia to ensure he didn’t slip away. He doused his head in the water bucket, wiped away the sleep, then let Raven out into the small yard with some oats for company. A quick cup of tea and he’d be on his way. Frog Hollow by nightfall and get the job done, break the news to Denman.
The smell of bacon lured him to the kitchen; perhaps a little more than a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss.
Shotgun replaced by a frying pan, Olivia stood at the stove with Oxley salivating at her feet but no sign of Lettie. ‘Morning.’
She shovelled a mound of bacon onto a plate, added some damper and dumped it down on the table. ‘Get that into you. Might bring some colour to your face. You look as though you haven’t seen a decent feed for weeks.’
Correct as usual, though not weeks. Hadn’t paid much attention to anything bar the chase down to Sydney and an equally quick escape. If it hadn’t been for the stallion that needed to be dropped off at Yellow Rock and the horse he’d borrowed from Olivia he’d be a darn sight closer to Frog Hollow. A night’s sleep had done little to improve his mood. He wedged the bacon between the two slices of damper and bit down. A mug of tea appeared in front of him and Olivia sat down chin resting in her cupped hand.
‘Lettie still abed?’ he asked once he’d swallowed the first mouthful.
‘Doubt it. She’s slept the last couple of nights in the study. I’ll take her something once I’ve got you sorted.’ ‘What’s she up to?’
‘Thinks she’s missed something. Before she left she showed me a map of Evie’s she’d found. Had a place called Hume marked just outside Maitland. Told her there was nowhere with that name but she thought there was something in it, that’s why she took off in the first place. Reckoned it was some message Evie had left and that she hadn’t told the truth. Had no intention of painting then going out to Glendon. Was off in search of some fellow, Andrew Hume, something to do with Leichhardt. I can’t believe that Evie didn’t tell me the truth. She’d never done that before in her life, not ever.’
Then everything became quiet. Nathaniel finished the sandwich, pushed his plate away and waited for the rest.
‘I was upset. Peg was her usual self, couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Lettie seemed disappointed, dispirited. I want her to stop this madness. It’s consuming her the same way it consumed Evie.’
Now matters became a little clearer. According to Denman, Olivia’d always shouldered the responsibility for Evie’s disappearance but there was more to it. Some argument about the property. Everyone knew the Maynard land was Olivia’s, and the Ludgrove land was held in trust for Evie. Olivia had hardly a penny to her name but more land than she knew what to do with. Miriam and Rawlings had ended up with the hard-folding stuff.
‘I thought perhaps—’ Olivia’s words broke into his thoughts and his head came up with a snap ‘—thought perhaps you could take Lettie over some breakfast.’ She nodded at the tray laid for one, napkin and all. ‘Have a chat. Make sure she’s all right.’
‘I need to be on my way.’ Coward that he was. Needed to tell Denman, wasn’t fair that he should be the last to know his promise, their dream, had come to nought.
Olivia narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m not asking for much. Just half an hour of your time. It’s not like she’s difficult to get along with.’
Couldn’t argue about that. He huffed out a sigh. ‘Give me the tray. I’ll take it over there, see if I can find out what she’s up to. I’m out of here in under an hour or I’ll never make it back before nightfall.’
‘You will if you take Raven. I sent the nag you borrowed back to Singleton.’
‘I’m not planning on coming back this way for a while.’
‘And I’m not planning on going anywhere. Get him back next time you come through.’
Couldn’t ask more than that. ‘Thanks, thanks a lot. I’ll take this over to Lettie.’
Nathaniel shouldered open the front door, and paused. He didn’t want to scare the living daylights out of Lettie, and wasn’t sure how she’d feel about the way he’d up and left her with Denman. He’d have to explain about the land. How important it was to both of them. It would take a lot longer than half an hour.
‘Lettie?’
Oxley appeared in the doorway, emitted a mumbled growl then inhaled the smell of bacon and wagged his tail.
‘Nathaniel! Come in.’ The greeting sounded as though she was pleased to see him.
He stepped over the threshold and came to a grinding halt. He’d never set foot in the main house. It had been closed up for as long as he could remember.
‘Are you coming in?’
He stepped into the study where shafts of sunlight shone through the open doors, throwing an almost ethereal aura around her head.
Papers lay strewn on every available space, old newspapers, pamphlets, open books and maps, more maps and books than he’d ever seen in his life. ‘Olivia thought you could do with some breakfast.’ He offered the tray like some sort of dumb waiter.
She leapt to her feet, and he had the strangest sensation that she might throw her arms around him; instead she came around the desk and took the tray from him. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘On my way back from Sydney. Had to drop off a stallion then I’m heading back to Frog Hollow.’
‘Did you get to Sydney in time for the auction?’
He nodded.
‘Denman will be thrilled. We camped the night at Rossgole after we got the car out. He told me all about it. How long you’d been waiting. Then we got chased off by some old man with a shotgun who reckoned we were on his property. Denman put him right.’ She pushed aside some papers from a small table and put the tray down then took a huge bite of the damper and bacon.
‘That’d be Fred Parker, he’s squatted on the land for longer than I can remember.’ No point in beating around the bush. Had to explain that he’d been outbid. ‘I was going to tell him he could stay. Doesn’t matter much now. I didn’t get the land. Price was too high. Parker’ll have to deal with the new owners.’ He tried for a nonchalant shrug and failed. ‘There’ll be another property.’
Her lovely hazel-green eyes widened in sympathy. ‘Oh! I’m sorry. I felt guilty when Denman explained that you’d risked missing the auction when you rescued me. And I hadn’t said thank you. Will you forgive me?’ She threw him a smile and he could have forgiven her the world.
‘Nothing to be done. Not your fault but I’ve got to get going. It’s a good ride. You all right?’
‘Yes. Busy.’
‘Olivia said she’s worried about you. Working too hard on all this.’ He gestured to the pile of papers on the desk.
‘Oh! I don’t want to worry her, but I don’t seem to have got any further than the
day I left. I was certain Evie’s map held the answer. This Andrew Hume. I’m sure he has something to do with her disappearance.’
‘Did you get to Dartbrook?’
She nodded, finished the remains of her mouthful and slipped the rest of the damper to Oxley. ‘They told me about Bailey, how he’d taken off with the thoroughbreds and the drovers’ wages. I can’t imagine Denman’s brother doing something like that.’
‘He didn’t. He wouldn’t.’
‘Why are you so sure?’
‘Same reason as you. That family hasn’t got a mean bone in their body. Honest as the day is long. I wouldn’t be standing here today if it hadn’t been for them.’
‘What do you mean?’
It wasn’t something he ever talked about, not that he’d taken Denman for granted—that’s what the land was all about. A thank you of sorts. His turn to do the looking after. ‘I was born out on the road, my mother didn’t make it. I was in the saddle before I could walk and Denman took me in after my father was killed taking a mob across the Hawkesbury River. Denman brought me up. If it hadn’t been for him …’ His throat rasped.
‘He took me under his wing. Everyone thought Denman was in on it with Bailey. He tried and tried to prove Bailey hadn’t done a runner. Gave up in the end, couldn’t fight the rest of the drovers, couldn’t take the gossip and bad feeling. He gave up droving, then started his own blacksmith’s shop. Always said he did it so I’d have a place to call home, and could go to school. Either way it worked out for the best. That’s how we came to be at Frog Hollow.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.’
‘Nothing to be sorry about. Best thing that could have happened to me.’
‘And you never found out what happened to Bailey?’
‘Nope.’
Yellow Rock glinted in the sunshine and the sound of a motor broke the silence. ‘Time I was going.’ As he made his way to the door a large black car slid to a halt outside the house. ‘Looks like you’ve got visitors. I’ll go out the back.’
Twenty-Four
‘Visitors?’ Lettie stepped up to the French doors and her heart sank. An apparition swathed in a voluminous dustcoat with a huge hat anchored by a vast expanse of gauzy material sat in the front seat of a large black motor car.
Miriam!
A icy rash slicked her skin. Not now. Not today.
Connors helped Miriam from the car. She unbuttoned the dustcoat to reveal her prized ankle-length mink coat. She meant business. With one hand resting on Connors’ arm she swanned up the path to the front door. Oxley lifted his head and eased to his feet, hackles rising.
‘I don’t want to talk to Mother.’ Lettie clapped her hand over her mouth, trapping her childish whine. What was the matter with her? She had nothing to hide. She’d written to Miriam and told her she would be staying. Miriam knew nothing of her fruitless jaunt to Dartbrook or the accident.
Like a wraith Peg appeared in the hallway.
‘Why is she here?’ Lettie hissed.
‘Very good question and one I haven’t got a decent answer to. She hasn’t set foot on the property for nigh on twenty years. Why did she send you here?’
‘Ah!’ Lettie blushed to the roots of her hair, closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I was supposed to discuss Thorne’s inheritance. Well, I didn’t … I couldn’t … not once Olivia had told me about Evie. I wanted to help her find out what happened. That’s all.’ She let her hands fall, kept her eyes downcast. Most of her fingernails were chipped and broken. Miriam would jump on that the moment she saw her. And her clothes. Oh, God! She couldn’t face her.
Peg raised her fingers to her lips and gestured to the sitting room. ‘Olivia’s in the stables. I’ll go down and tell her Miriam’s here. You entertain your mother.’ She quirked an apologetic grin and vanished.
Drawing in a fortifying breath Lettie opened the door. ‘Mother. What a surprise.’ The familiar waft of lily of the valley prickled her nose.
‘That will be all, Connors.’ Miriam waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the motor and marched through the door.
Lettie closed the study door and ran her hands over her hair. There was little point in worrying about what she looked like; Miriam’s face said it all.
With Oxley grumbling at her heels Lettie made her way into the sitting room where Miriam sat, hands in her lap, feet crossed neatly at the ankles. Only the tapping of her index finger against her leather gloves gave any indication of possible discomfort, or was it impatience?
‘Mother.’ Lettie leant forward, intending to drop a kiss on Miriam’s cheek. Before she had the opportunity, Oxley barged between them, lowered his muzzle until it was whisper-close to Miriam’s face and growled softly, his intent clear.
Miriam reared back. ‘Call him off.’
‘Oxley! Down!’ Lettie hauled him back by the scruff of his neck.
‘Revolting hound. He smells possibly worse than his predecessors and has no sense of place.’
Lettie pointed to the corner of the room and Oxley threw himself down, his ears still cocked and the corner of his lip caught on his teeth.
‘For goodness sake, child, I hardly recognise you.’
Lettie pulled at the frayed cuffs of the homespun jumper. ‘We weren’t expecting company. I was on my way to help Aunt Olivia in the stables,’ she lied.
‘Family is hardly company. I’d like some refreshment. We broke the journey at Wiseman’s Ferry and have been travelling since first light. Something for Connors too. He’s out at the car. I presume you can manage to arrange that.’
Acid rose in Lettie’s throat. This was all her fault. She should have known she’d left it too long, should have sent Miriam another letter. Miriam’s curiosity would have got the better of her—that and her impatience to know whether Lettie had convinced Olivia that she should inherit in Thorne’s stead. Unless Miriam had simply come to take matters into her own hands.
The thought horrified her. It would mean she would have to leave. She didn’t want to go back to Sydney. Had no intention. The continual round of engagements and fawning suitors held even less appeal now she’d had a taste of freedom.
And then the slow realisation dawned. She didn’t have to return to Sydney. It would be Olivia’s decision to ask her to leave. She didn’t have to acquiesce to Miriam’s demands.
The surge of defiance took her by surprise and she squarely met Miriam’s gaze. ‘What are you doing here, Mother? The whole idea was that I should come and save you the trip. I wrote to you and told you I would be staying.’ She’d hardly given Miriam the opportunity to even speak. The past few weeks had made her realise exactly how Miriam dictated her life, choosing her friends, determining her schedule. Not anymore.
Miriam lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and leant forward. ‘You don’t understand Olivia.’
Lettie reared back. ‘I like her and I trust her.’
‘Whereas you don’t trust your own mother.’ It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact. ‘Do I need to remind you that I have known Olivia all of my life. Can’t you see the danger you’re in?’
Danger? Lettie gave a feeble laugh. No danger other than that of her own making, a foolhardy accident in the motor. ‘I’m staying, Mother!’ It wasn’t until the words left her lips she realised the truth. Yellow Rock had truly seeped into her blood. Yellow Rock was part of her. She wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet.
‘As much as Olivia might be family she is not your friend. Come back to Sydney and we will let the solicitors deal with the legalities. It was a mistake, my mistake in allowing you to come.’
An apology? An admission of failure? The like of which had never passed Miriam’s lips before. Lettie tried to reply but the words wouldn’t come, she couldn’t form a simple sentence. It was ridiculous. Her heart was pounding nineteen to the dozen and she felt as though she’d committed some outrageous atrocity. She drew in a breath. ‘What are you doing here?’ she repeated.
‘What do you th
ink? You have obviously failed in your task. I’m here to take you home. I can only presume Olivia has spun some yarn and entrapped you.’
Lettie took a deep breath and swallowed her desire to ask Miriam why she hadn’t told the truth about Evie, why she’d said she’d died in childhood, but what was the point? She’d simply say she didn’t want to discuss it, repeat some platitude about opening old wounds …
‘Why do you think your grandfather made me leave Yellow Rock?’
Lettie’s head came up with a snap. ‘Because you and Pater were to be married.’
‘Letitia, didn’t you listen to a word I said?’
Miriam had told her to be careful, that Olivia couldn’t lie straight in bed, was loose with the truth, every other cliché she could summon, but nothing else. Nothing about her sister, Evie, who hadn’t died in childhood as she’d always maintained. ‘What about Evie? You didn’t tell me the truth.’
‘For goodness sake. What are you talking about?’
How much longer was she going to keep this up? ‘Evie didn’t die in childhood. She vanished. No one knows what happened to her. I intend to find the truth.’
Miriam let out a dismissive huff. ‘Another of Olivia’s fantasies.’
‘If she died where is she buried? There’s no headstone in the family plot.’
The moment’s silence that followed allowed Lettie to compose herself, not be swayed as she once would have been. ‘I am an adult. I make my own decisions. Choose my own truths. I’m staying here until I decide otherwise.’
In a second Miriam was on her feet, her face close to Lettie’s. ‘You must not be swayed by Olivia’s yarns. You will do what I—’
Before Miriam could finish her sentence, Oxley leapt between them, hackles raised, teeth bared.
‘If you can’t control that dog I shall call Connors.’
‘I’ve always found Oxley to be an excellent judge of character.’ Olivia’s voice held a tinge of amusement as she clicked her fingers and Oxley subsided to the floor. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure, Miriam?’
How had Olivia arrived so quickly? She couldn’t have been in the stables as Peg suggested because she was dressed in her dark skirt and blouse, looking every inch the lady of the house.
