by Amanda Deed
‘Jane?’ Her father’s whisper sliced through the silence.
She tried to slow her breathing. Jane didn’t even want Papa to see how hurt she was. None of them knew she’d been at the ball. What reason could she give for her tears? Please go away.
He shuffled around her room and she suspected he leaned over her to see if she moved. Oddly, Jane heard the lid of her trunk open for a moment, the sound of rustling, then it closed again. What was he looking for? He moved around for a few more minutes then let himself out of the room.
Jane remembered that Papa had looked at her with a strange expression at the ball. Had he recognised her? Did he now search for evidence of her costume? Jane let out her pent-up breath, relieved that she had taken the Cleopatra gown back to Aunt Ruby. She didn’t want Papa to know it was his beloved daughter who stormed out of the ballroom in the middle of a dance.
When sunlight began to seep through the windows and under the door at last Jane rose from her restless night. She had cried herself to sleep, but woke several times during the night to spill fresh tears onto her pillow. There must be a way to put last night behind her. Somehow, she had to pretend to her family that nothing happened, as if she had been home the entire evening.
Jane checked the small mirror at her bedside. The signs of her weeping no longer marked her face, and if she kept her thoughts away from Price, she would manage. She began to recite those Bible verses to herself again—the ones filled with God’s promises of unshakeable love and everlasting presence. They soothed her like nothing else of late. They would give her the strength to get up and dress, walk across the yard to collect Moses, stoke up the fires and help Aunt Ruby with breakfast. They would fortify her through the washing and ironing of clothes, her check on Essie and the other myriad things she needed to do that day. God’s love would steady her through each hour.
She knelt by her bed and began her day of chores with a prayer of thankfulness. No matter how bad things got, the Lord had not deserted her, just as He promised. His peace washed over the hurt and confusion even as she knelt there. Let me never forget Your kindness and goodness.
Jane went to her trunk to gather her day dress, the one she wore every day except Sunday, and remembered Papa’s quiet visit last night. What had he been looking for? Nothing appeared out of place in her trunk, but it was odd that he’d come in and searched. Perhaps he did have suspicions that it was she at the ball. How would she face him? What would she say? I am the biggest fool that ever lived. Had they both been taken in by Price Moreland’s charms for a second time?
Jane had to force her anger and hurt to the recesses of her mind if she wanted to survive this day. As she refreshed her face at the washstand, she tried to rinse away the painful memories that wanted to plague her with torment. God is my rock and my fortress. His love encompasses me round about.
Once she stoked the fires in the parlour and dining room, Jane would have to face Aunt Ruby. She crossed the courtyard, collected Moses from his cage with a good-morning scratch on his neck, and pushed open the cookhouse door.
Aunt Ruby turned from her stove at the creak of the door hinges. ‘And how are you feeling this morning, dear? Any better?’
Jane transferred Moses from her arm to his perch and shrugged. ‘A little.’
‘You look a trifle pale. Come, you can peel these apples while I make you a hot cocoa.’
Aunt Ruby placed a bowl of apples on the work table where Jane had lowered herself into a chair. Jane picked up the paring knife and began to work.
‘Do you want to talk about it, lovey?’
‘Not really. Talking makes me think and feel things. I’d rather forget.’
Aunt Ruby sighed. ‘I’m sorry for you, Jane. I really thought he’d be good for you.’
The back of Jane’s throat constricted and she dashed a stray tear from her eye. But she focused on the apples. She needed to work and keep herself busy. To sit and brood over what might have been would not improve the situation. In silence, she assisted her aunt as she prepared breakfast.
When the food was ready to go Jane looked at the door in a state of vacillation. She bit on her lip as she tried to decide. If she joined her family for breakfast, the questions would surely come. Especially if she was as pale as Aunt Ruby claimed. Jane still wasn’t sure she could face her father, either.
‘I might take the platters to the dining room and come back.’
‘If that makes you more comfortable.’
Aunt Ruby hadn’t pressed her for any information, but Jane did not expect any graciousness from her sisters or her stepmother. If they suspected she was at the ball last night, they would hound her until she told them everything. And then they would attack her with merciless derision. Jane swallowed. No, she couldn’t do it. With any luck, she could leave the breakfast platters and run.
With one large serving dish in hand, Jane crossed to the house, Moses on her shoulder, and left it on the dining table to return for the rest. It wasn’t until she deposited the last of the dishes on the table that anyone appeared in the room. Papa.
Before she made her escape, he came and dropped a kiss on her head. ‘Good morning, Jane.’
‘Morning, Papa.’ She kept her eyes lowered.
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Well enough.’ Jane moved toward the doorway.
‘Jane?’
She stopped and turned, dreading what he might say to her.
‘I wonder if I might ask you …’
A knot developed in Jane’s stomach. ‘Yes?’
Papa seemed to consider his words for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Never mind.’
Jane nodded and then hurried out the door before he changed his mind. She let out a long breath of relief as she walked the courtyard again. As she neared the cookhouse, her stomach churned. There was no way she would be able to eat. Not even in the safe company of Aunt Ruby and Old Darcy. She didn’t want to be alone, but neither did she want to be near any of them.
Jane changed direction and headed for the stables. A ride on Essie might help clear her head.
26
Jane would have been up since dawn, but was it too early for Price to pay a visit to the family home? Mr O’Reilly had suggested ten o’clock, but Price wasn’t sure he had the patience to wait that long. He needed to be sure that Jane understood the truth. Sleep had not been easy with unsolved problems hanging over his head.
In the end, Price tried to take his time over breakfast and then busied himself with extra cleaning in his store. He gazed around the small salon with affection. It would be strange to leave this place, even though it had been open for less than six months. Patrick had not been apprenticed for long enough to run the business on his own. What would become of Moreland’s Mos once he left?
Price refused to look backward. A new sense of purpose filled the future that stretched out before him. There would be study involved, but Price now had big plans to transform his father’s business into one that protected its employees. He would do his part to challenge the general attitude toward slave labour, even if Father never changed his mind. And if Jane consented to marry him, so much the better. He would be proud to have her by his side in this new venture.
Pulling his fob from his pocket, Price checked the time. Finally, it was near enough to ten o’clock to head out to the farm. He gathered a satchel in which he placed a brown paper package and Jane’s shoe. After slinging it over his shoulder, he locked the door of the store and headed out.
People filled the main street, conducting their business for the day, but slowing him down with their greetings. Price first encountered Mr Li, who wanted to learn the news of the fancy dance, especially since he was unwelcome in those circles. A few minutes after saying his goodbyes to Mr Li, he encountered Mr Clark leading his team of bullocks with a dray of produce behind them. Without hesitation, Clark began to relate the go
ssip he’d heard—the buzz about town—concerning the mysterious and exotic Cleopatra and who she might have been. Of course, Price had expected it, but he still enjoyed listening to the stir his beloved Jane had caused.
‘Tell me, Bobby, since you and I both know that Miss Anderson left town, who do you think it was?’ The dolt hadn’t even recognised Jane.
Price tried to hide his smile. ‘I’ll give you one guess, Clark.’
‘No.’ Clark searched his face in disbelief. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘As serious as the grave, my friend.’ And yet, Price found it hard to keep a serious expression on his face. His grin was irrepressible now.
‘So what did you say to make her run away like that, then?’
Price drew his brows together, his amusement forgotten. ‘I’m not exactly sure. But I trust I can make it right. I’m on my way there now.’
Clark let out a low whistle. ‘Well, I’ll be. I never knew Pl… I mean, Miss Jane O’Reilly could turn every head in town.’
‘Whereas I knew it all along.’ The grin was back. Price couldn’t stay sombre for long this day.
The two soon parted company, but with the interruptions and conversation it was half past ten by the time he reached the O’Reilly property. With no one in sight and no energetic dogs to accost him, Price let himself through the gate. Mr O’Reilly must be out in the fields working for the day.
Nerves rose in his belly with every step he took toward the homestead. How would Jane receive him? Would she even speak to him? Where would he find her? Should he go to the main building, or head to the cookhouse? The polite way won over and he knocked on the door of the homestead. He drew in a deep breath and let it out while he waited for a reply.
Moments later, the door opened and Mrs O’Reilly stood there, at first with an irritated frown, as though she’d been interrupted from something important. But as she looked at him, her expression changed to one of pleasure.
‘Mr Moreland. Come in. Come in.’ She pulled the door open wide. ‘The girls and I are in the parlour. We were just talking about the ball last night.’
Price followed her into the cosy room and took the seat she offered him. But a quick glance around the room told him that ‘the girls’ didn’t include Jane. He nodded a greeting to Miss Harriet and Miss Nancy.
‘Hello, Mr Moreland.’ They both giggled in unison.
Mrs O’Reilly settled herself in her chair and then looked at him. ‘Miss Anderson looked rather extravagant last night.’
Price wasn’t sure if she intended that statement as a compliment or an insult. But the fact that they still assumed Cleopatra was Violet amused him. So, Mr O’Reilly hadn’t told them the truth. It didn’t come as a surprise. ‘The belle of the ball, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Anyone would think she was a real queen,’ breathed Miss Nancy in awe.
Price grinned at her. Perhaps it would be interesting to tease them. ‘Yes indeed. The problem is, I said goodbye to Miss Anderson at the docks yesterday morning. She will be arriving in Wagga Wagga this afternoon by my calculations.’
Silence filled the room, so alive with tension, Price expected one of them to explode at any moment. Especially Mrs O’Reilly. He saw the wheels turning in her head as she pieced things together. A glance at Miss Harriet told him she wasn’t far behind in her comprehension.
He opened his satchel. ‘Unfortunately, the enchanting Cleopatra ran away before I had a chance to declare my affections for one so unequalled.’ He drew Jane’s shoe from the bag. ‘She dropped her shoe in her haste to depart. So, here I am looking for the owner of this shoe, the identity of the mysterious Cleopatra.’
Mrs O’Reilly fixed him with a cold, hard stare. She had obviously realised the identity of Cleopatra, but refused to admit it. Her lips pressed together in a picture of restrained fury.
‘It’s my shoe.’
Price’s eyes swerved to Miss Harriet in surprise. The girl had blurted the words out unexpectedly.
‘I’m sorry I ran off in that dreadful manner. The shoes were a trifle too big and one just slipped off.’ She made a dramatic gesture to go with her story.
‘No. It’s my shoe,’ Miss Nancy whined, surprising Price even further. ‘I was Cleopatra and you know it.’
When Price gathered his thoughts, and while the two girls still quarrelled over which of them was Cleopatra, he stood to his feet. He turned to Mrs O’Reilly who still sat in stony silence. ‘Where is Miss Jane?’
The sisters ceased arguing and looked at him, stunned for a moment. ‘What do you want Jane for?’ Miss Harriet asked. ‘The shoe is mine, I tell you.’
Price glared at their mother. ‘I don’t know what kind of parenting you employ to make your daughters so selfish, so manipulative, that they lie and argue like that. Neither of these girls has feet large enough or noble enough to ever fit into this shoe. Any normal and loving sisters would rejoice for their kinswoman’s happiness. And you as a mother, have you no thought or care for Jane’s future? You all treat her as though she were one of the Orientals who live at the edge of town. You. Her own family! I am beyond disappointed in you. Shame on you. And now I ask you once more, where is Miss Jane?’
The three of them sat staring at him, wordless, though Price detected colour rising in their cheeks.
Finally, Mrs O’Reilly let out a long sigh filled with resignation. ‘I’m not sure of her precise whereabouts. She left with her horse over an hour ago.’
‘Thank you.’ Price put the shoe back in his bag and strapped it over his shoulder again. ‘Good day.’
Out in the sunshine once again, Price let the fresh air wash away the anger that had overtaken him. He hoped he’d put those ladies in their place at last, but he doubted it. Dear God, let your grace and mercy work in their hearts.
In his hurried steps to seek out Jane, Price almost collided with Mrs Ferguson as he rounded a corner between two of the buildings. The cook’s normally rosy greeting died on her lips as she looked up into his face, and then she scowled.
‘What have you done, Mr Moreland?’
Agitated by the constant accusation and disruption to his mission, Price lifted his hat and raked a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve done nothing.’
‘Mm-hm.’ Mrs Ferguson folded her arms, looking dubious.
Price released a frustrated sigh. ‘And my nothing has gotten me into deep trouble, I’m afraid.’
The cook said nothing, but stared at him so hard it seemed she looked right into his soul. Strangely, Mrs Ferguson’s blessing meant more to him than Mrs O’Reilly’s. He must convince her of his worthiness.
‘Listen. I know I’ve done all the wrong things. I left when I should have stayed and I kept my heritage a secret, but Violet Anderson didn’t help by spreading misleading information about us. I’m here to set the story straight, once and for all. Miss Jane is the one I love with all my heart and the one I want to marry.’
‘It crushed her when she thought you’d betrayed her, you know.’
Price let his head hang as pain singed his heart. ‘I’m sorry for that. If only you knew how much.’
Mrs Ferguson eyed him silently for a few moments and then let out a deep sigh. ‘Thankfully, it was also a turning point for her. She learnt in that hardship, how to rely on the Lord for her strength and comfort.’
‘She did? So, some good has come out of my foolishness then?’ Price let his head drop forward. Thank You, God.
The cook reached out and squeezed his hand then, her eyes shining with moisture. ‘Yes, but you’d better convince her you haven’t betrayed her. She still thinks you love Miss Anderson.’
Price nodded. So, that’s what was wrong. Jane believed he’d spoken to her as Violet last night. She didn’t know he’d recognised her. ‘Thank you, Mrs Ferguson.’
‘Go now, lovey. You’ve got some work before you.’ She winked at him
and gave him a gentle shove.
Price grinned at her as he turned away. He had only to find Jane now. If she still felt out of sorts, she would only be found in one place. He strode toward the river and Jane’s favourite gum tree.
Essie was tethered to one of the lower limbs of the great gum in the pleasant shade. She tugged at tufts of grass and leaves where they were within reach, while swishing her tail often at flies. Moses perched high up in the tree above Jane’s position, sharpening his beak on the hard bark. Jane sat on one of her favourite branches, one which stretched out over the river bank, where she watched the calm water drift by beneath her. In summer, she had often considered jumping into the river from here to cool herself, but had never been game. She had only ever entered the water from a shallow bank further along the waterway.
Jane sat on the huge limb, using an upright branch for support, and dangled her legs. She picked at leaves and twigs, tossing them into the water and tried to imagine her troubles floating away down the river with them. She must find a way to let go of her hopes of Mr Moreland, once and for all. Just like she had for Prissy’s friendship years ago. The same as she had for the hope of nice sisters and a new mother. And like she had for Danny.
But this time it was much harder. This time it resembled letting go of her dear Mama and grief twisted her insides like never before. Only one thing was different. In the midst of it all, a strange peace remained. Although bitter disappointment and loss ravaged her heart, she did not despair as she once might have. It could only be her new confidence in the Lord. How do You do that? It was a wonder Jane never believed possible, even though Aunt Ruby had tried to explain it to her several times.
And so, while her feet dangled high above the flowing Murrumbidgee, Jane poured out her heart to her father in heaven—the dreams she’d had, her brokenness and the loneliness which never eased. It was a balm to her wounds having someone to talk to, someone who loved her no matter what she said or did. Someone who listened and cared in every detail, even if Jane thought those details might be foolish. He was a better friend even than Moses.
