by Amanda Deed
Turning toward the stables as she had done only a few minutes earlier, she recommenced her mission to find Mr Xavier. This time though, she had more in mind than pleasant company. Serena found him mucking out the stalls and Mr Xavier noticed her seconds before raking a pile of rank-smelling hay and dung onto her feet.
‘I beg pardon, Miss Bellingham.’ Colour marked his cheeks as he stopped the rake just in time. ‘I did not hear you coming.’
‘Never mind, Mr Xavier. No harm done.’ Serena offered him a benign smile and leaned against one of the rough wooden posts, careful not to splinter her hands.
The handsome groom leaned on the rake. ‘How do you fare after, er, last night?’
There, it was foremost in his mind as well. It should not have surprised Serena. ‘I’m a little tired, though I shouldn’t complain. I have slept half the day away.’
‘Yes, you were fast asleep when Uncle Ed carried you inside this morning.’
Serena tried to smother a gasp. Mr King had carried her to bed? That was even more embarrassing than falling asleep on his shoulder. She studied Mr Xavier’s face, trying to read his judgement on the incident. He, in turn, studied her. She steeled her features. She must not allow Mr Xavier to learn how tumultuous Mr King made her feel. She cleared her throat. ‘Well, I have no recollection of that, so I must have been.’ On another whim, she arched her brows and smirked. ‘Serves him right for keeping me up till dawn.’
Mr Xavier let out a gentle chuckle. ‘Don’t be too hard on Uncle Ed. He gets enthusiastic around architecture.’ He moulded his features into a thoughtful expression. ‘My guess is, the lighthouse was not enough, so he dragged you off to see every building in Sydney of architectural significance. According to him, that is.’
It was Serena’s turn to giggle. ‘You have been on the same tour then, I assume.’
‘A few weeks after Mr Greenway died. I was old enough to find staying up all night thrilling, but not old enough to actually remain awake.’ Mr Xavier raked at the straw again, the stubble rustling as he dragged at it. ‘You are more fortunate than I though, Miss Bellingham. Uncle Ed made me wake up and take myself to bed when we got home.’
Serena grinned at him and then fell serious as she remembered Mr Simon’s accusations. ‘Your brother assumes I’m trying to corrupt him.’ She glanced surreptitiously at Mr Xavier to gauge his response.
He frowned before he raised his face to hers, pausing with the rake. ‘Simon is protective of Uncle Ed. We all are.’
Serena searched his face, trying to understand. ‘But why does he need so much protection?’ The answer came to her as he opened his mouth to reply. ‘Don’t tell me. It’s the burden of his genius?’
Mr Xavier sighed as though a great weight rested on his shoulders. ‘There are people who take advantage of intelligence and creativity. Mother is always ranting about it—how people won’t understand his genius.’ He turned to her and a small smile turned the corners of his mouth. ‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe the same as Simon.’ Colour infused his cheeks again as he looked away and continued his work, the rake scraping against the floor.
‘It is a relief to know I have one friend around here.’ She demurred then, realising the bold nature of her statement. ‘That is, if I may call you a friend?’
He faced her once again with earnest conviction in his eyes. ‘Yes, you can. If you ever need anything—help, or even someone to talk to—please remember I am here.’
‘Thank you for that. It is nice to know. May I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Do you remember much of your grandparents? I only ask because Mr King mentioned them last night, and it sounded like they were good people.’
‘He did?’ His eyebrows went up. ‘He doesn’t often talk of them. But, yes they were good sorts. Grandmama always had sweets hidden away for us, while pretending she was very strict. Grandpapa was much like Uncle Ed—generous, playful, energetic. He would talk to us for hours, and take us on outrageous adventures. That was when he was home. He would be away on business at times. But it was a happy home, to be sure.’
‘What happened to them?’
Mr Xavier’s eyes shuttered. ‘Grandpapa died in a tragic accident. Grandmama died soon after. They said she had a broken heart.’
‘It must have been a terrible time for you all.’ Serena’s heart swelled with compassion.
‘Yes, I think that is partly why Mother is so protective now.’ He looked aside. ‘But I should not be speaking like that. It is not my place to speak of her so. I’m sorry.’
‘It is well, Mr Xavier,’ Serena reached out to touch his forearm. ‘I’ll not broadcast what you have said.’
‘Thank you, Miss Bellingham,’ he seemed relieved. ‘I should be getting back to cleaning these stables though.’
For a moment, she suspected he had more to say, but instead he shrugged and continued working.
Before she turned to leave, Serena wanted to accomplish one more thing. ‘If the weather remains fair, I will go walking on the shore on Sunday. Might you be free to accompany me?’ Mr Xavier showed signs he might find her pleasing, but he showed many more signs that he was too shy to act.
His head lifted again at her request. ‘Certainly. If you wish. As I said—’
‘You’re here to help if I need it. Yes. Thank you again.’ Well, if he was determined to make nothing more of it than that, so be it, but she would enjoy his companionship nonetheless.
14
Friday 20th May, 1842
For the briefest of moments I held her. She fit in my arms like the final stroke of an artist’s brush, or the last tile in a mosaic—snug and perfect. Oh, the softness of her hair against my chin. I wanted to bury my face in its lemon-scented loveliness.
Simon has not spoken two words to me since this morning. And Judith—her face mottled when I lifted Miss Bellingham from the curricle and carried her to her room.
Can I not do anything without her hovering, fretting, fussing over whether I will tarnish her good name forever? It is only me who bears the curse.
No-one can know, Eddie. No-one can know.
I acknowledge my family care for me and it feels good to have their devotion. But they care so much I cannot breathe. Like being in a trap of sorts. But Serena, her family love her enough to let her go.
15
After Sunday’s breakfast and a delicious pastry Becker had made—he had surpassed the challenge—Serena sought Mr Xavier for his promised escort to the beach. As she strolled toward the stables, her mind travelled—as it often did—to Mr King. She had not seen him since their all-night escapade and wondered if his determination to avoid her matched her own. To be honest, she was disappointed she had not met him in the halls, or that he hadn’t joined the family at mealtimes. Nor had he accosted her out of doors anywhere. Why should that make her feel deflated? To see scorn in his face after falling asleep on his shoulder would be humiliating. And yet, part of her wanted to see him despite the embarrassment.
Serena groaned. This obsession with Mr King needed to stop. His position, intellect, status in society, why, everything about him far exceeded her. And then there was the problem of his judgement of her and Papa.
Mr Xavier was more her equal, and that is who she must focus on now. Serena quickened her steps to the horse yards, eyes searching for the groom. There he was, in one of the smaller enclosures, hand feeding a young roan foal. He had told the family that the horse’s health had declined since being weaned from its mother and Mr Xavier worried for the foal.
‘Is the young fellow faring better?’ Serena said by way of greeting.
Mr Xavier glanced up, then bent his head back to watch what he was doing. ‘He’s been improving since I’ve made sure he’s eating well.’ He stroked the foal’s white nose, inciting a soft whinny from the young horse. ‘Aren’t you, boy?’
> Serena watched the pair for a moment. ‘Mr Xavier, are you free to join me for a walk on the beach today?’
A flush of colour spread on Mr Xavier’s face, but he did not look at her. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Bellingham. I can’t get away today.’
Serena opened her mouth to postpone their outing until the morrow when he continued.
‘Don’t let my busyness stop you though. I know how much you enjoy your Sunday constitutional.’ This time he glanced up with a brief smile. Something in his expression told Serena there was more to his detachment than business. Did she imagine she saw a flash of regret on his face?
‘Well, if you’re certain.’
Mr Xavier gave a curt nod and then turned his back. What happened to ‘I’m here for you’? She thought they were becoming friends at last. That was just two days ago and now here he was practically ignoring her.
With hesitant steps, Serena backed away. Mr Xavier did not glance at her again, not even briefly.
Frowning, she lifted her shoulders and headed for the shore. If she must walk alone, so be it. A deep sigh rose from her chest. Serena never expected loneliness to trouble her in such a large house, but there it was. She missed the constant chatter of her sisters and their warm hugs and quiet conversation with Papa. At Aleron there was only business-like discussions and hours of silence—except for those times with Mr King. But she couldn’t rely on those moments. The genius was busy with architectural design—as the family had told her repeatedly—and he could not afford to spend hours with her.
A cold, blustery wind whipped her skirts around her legs, making her steps slower. Serena leaned into the wind, pulling her thin wrap tighter around her. It was not the best weather for a walk, but as Mr Xavier mentioned, her Sunday walk was important.
White caps covered the usually calm bay. Keeping her boots on, Serena trudged along the water’s edge. Salt spray dampened her hair and clothes, but Serena didn’t mind. She had experienced this type of weather many a time. Papa always said sailing in strong winds was an adventure—there was nothing like sea air to blow away one’s troubles.
Serena felt a pang of longing as she remembered his words. How she longed to see him. She had received a letter from him, but he only responded to her stories of life at Aleron. He wrote no tidings of life at home. No news should mean good news, but what if it meant things were so bad he couldn’t mention them for fear of upsetting her? Anxiety rose within, along with guilt for leaving them, as it did most times she thought of her family.
Serena spread her arms wide, face to the wind, and tilted her head back toward the sky. She breathed the briny air deeply, allowing the strong breeze to blow against her.
Lord, grant me peace. Cleanse my troubled thoughts. Yes, God could help her even more than a refreshing wind. She must trust in Him to guide her.
Serena leaned into the breeze and continued along the sea shore. As she absorbed the beautiful scenery around her, she soon realised a figure sat on the small bluff at the far end of the beach. It was hard to make out any features in the haze of the sea spray. When the figure raised an arm and waved to her, however, she knew him at once. Mr King. Strange to discover him in the exact place she visited. Could it be possible he orchestrated these meetings? It had happened too many times to be coincidental. Could it be that he sought her out—that he was interested in her company? It was more than she ever expected, but she could not deny the thrill that ran through her body. Perhaps he did not hold against her the indiscretion of falling asleep on his shoulder.
Waving back to him, she made her way to the bluff, partly in trepidation, and partly excited to learn more about Mr King today. In all truth, even if he spoke utter nonsense, she wouldn’t mind. Just being near him with his emotive eyes would satisfy her fascination. By the time she’d scrambled up the modest bank, she stood before him slightly breathless. ‘Good afternoon to you, Mr King.’ She tugged at a loosened strand of hair which had blown across her face and tried to tuck it back into the bun at her neck.
His face turned up to hers with a broad grin, though he squinted against the glare of cloud-filled skies behind her. ‘And to you, Miss Bellingham.’
Mr King held what seemed to be a white card across his knees. ‘What have you there?’ She nodded toward it.
‘I have been sketching.’
‘Oh.’ Serena then saw the pencil tucked behind his ear. ‘May I see?’
Mr King shifted over on the rock, motioning for her to join him. The rock was not large enough for there to be much space between them and Serena found that her hip and thigh pressed up against his. The physical nearness sent more thrills through her body. He was so very attractive. She bit on her lip. She must not allow herself to dwell on his attributes. Serena forced herself to focus on Mr King’s drawing.
The sketch encompassed the scene below—the beach with several pretty eucalypts bordering the cove, including the white-capped waves tumbling into shore. It almost looked as though they were in motion. But the real surprise was the image of herself as she had been but fifteen minutes earlier, with arms outspread in the wind. The only difference was that he had drawn her hair loose, blowing free in the breeze. Serena gasped and her hand fluttered over her mouth.
‘You drew me?’ Her eyes swerved to his expressive brown ones.
‘I drew a free-spirited water nymph. You are inspiring, Serena.’ His eyes locked on her gaze, a wealth of meaning written in their depths.
Is that how he saw her? But what of all those accusations? What had changed? ‘But, I thought ...’ She faltered, unable to finish the question. Her mind quickly became a fuzzy mess. She started when his hand lightly covered hers.
All rational thought fled as he drew her hand to his lips. Tiny explosions of pleasure invaded her head and her heart, and it seemed every other part of her body, right to her toes. The heady scent of lavender and tobacco filled her senses. At length he drew back, and his eyes told her he longed to kiss more than her hand. She closed her eyes and imagined what those kisses would be like, arousing sensations in Serena that she felt sure must be wrong.
Finally, she opened her eyes and pulled back, but the intensity in his gaze remained. ‘I cannot stop thinking about you.’
Serena scrambled to find a coherent response. ‘Nor I you.’
His eyes roamed her face and he did not release her hand which still burned where his lips had been. ‘Come to my rooms tonight.’ The invitation burst from him.
‘Mr King.’ Serena sucked in her breath. ‘What can you mean? You must know that is improper.’ He had not even mentioned marriage, let alone love or anything close to that.
‘No. I ...’ He shook his head as though a fog filled his mind.
Did he mean to feign innocence, did he? Perhaps he was a womaniser as previous newspapers had hinted. The fluttering in her heart transformed to an offended, pounding throb. She wrenched her hand away from his and stood. ‘I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am.’ No wait. She knew exactly what he believed about her. Her shoulders fell. ‘Is this a trap? You want to prove that I’m a criminal or even a wanton?’ She stalked away from him.
‘Serena!’
Serena flung back toward him with a hand stretched out before her. ‘Stay away from me.’ She left him and didn’t turn back.
Serena headed straight to her room. Right now, she was in no mood to speak with any household member. How dare Mr King! She had half a mind to pack her belongings and walk home. The only thing that stopped her was the possibility, no the probability, that Mr King would have her father taken to the penal settlement. And added to that, he would likely have her denounced as a harlot. Water nymph indeed!
Angrier than she’d been in years, Serena slammed the door. She threw herself onto the bed, thumping the pillows to vent her humiliation and groaned in frustration. Rosemary burst from the sachet, filling the air with its fragrance.
Sh
e remembered how Mr Xavier refused to accompany her to the beach. Had he known Mr King sat on the bluff, sketching? Was he involved in this?
And Mr Simon. When he found out what had transpired there on the rocks, he would feel justified in his assessment of her character, wouldn’t he? And what about Mrs and Mr Jones? It didn’t bear imagining. They were all ready to judge and condemn her it seemed. Perhaps every day had been a test to bring out her true character—a character they’d already determined as wicked.
But they were wrong. So very wrong. And Serena held no illusions that she could change their point of view. They had damned her without a fair hearing.
Harmless indeed. With another groan, she stood up from the bed and paced the room, her ire still stirred. Shouldn’t a girl’s first moments of intimacy be something she could treasure? But Mr King had ruined it with his unchaste suggestion. An idea struck her—not a solution precisely—but it might help relieve her anxiety.
Serena sat at the bureau and withdrew a sheet of paper, then several more sheets. This promised to be a long letter. She opened the ink pot, dipped her quill, and wrote out all that had happened. She started with the night-long tour with Mr King and ended with the episode at the beach—minus the kiss of her hand—and the strange attitudes of the family. Only Papa might understand her side of the issue. He knew her nature, that she bore no guilt for any immorality.
As her pen scrawled across the page, her indignation calmed to only the dull ache of disappointment. When did she begin to expect more from this position than an extended punishment? It was her own fault for letting her imagination run away with her. The possibility that Mr King, or even Mr Xavier, would show any interest in her was a delusion. She existed at Aleron as a slave and should have only expected treatment as such. Serena shook her head as she signed off and let out a long breath.
