“You’ve made your choice,” her father had said. “It will be a hard life. You’ll be sorry and there will be no turning back.”
Now those words had come back to nest. She hadn’t stopped loving Joseph. He was a wonderful father, an attentive lover and yet she was just so tired. Clara rolled over and curled herself into a ball. Moisture seeped from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself and let the tears flow.
Seven
Henry looked up at the tinkle of the bell over the door. A tall man entered, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a soft leather vest in spite of the warm day. When he removed his hat he revealed a thick thatch of red hair.
“Good day to you, sir,” Henry said. “How can I be of service?”
“I heard you buy wool?”
“I can do that on your behalf, Mr …?”
“Prosser, Ellis Prosser.”
“Henry Wiltshire.” He thrust out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr Prosser.”
Prosser clasped his hand in a vice-like grip then let it go. Henry tucked the hand behind his back and opened and closed his fingers. Prosser was too busy taking in his shop to notice.
“You have a property near here?”
“A day’s ride, almost two with wagons.” Prosser’s gaze had been searching the shop, now he turned his dark brown eyes on Henry. “This new town with its train line is much closer than Port Augusta.”
“And you have some wool you’d like me to sell for you?”
“Only off-cuts but I’ll have a new clip soon enough. If you get me a good deal I’ll bring my next bales of wool your way.”
“Of course, Mr Prosser. I’m sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Henry moved back behind his counter. “Would you like to take tea? We can discuss our business in the parlour.”
Prosser glanced towards the door. “I don’t have long.”
“Of course. I will ask my wife to mind the shop while we conduct our business.” Henry pulled back the curtain. “Catherine.”
Catherine’s reddened face looked round the door from the kitchen. “Yes dear.”
“I have a guest. Make a pot of tea and then come through to mind the shop.”
“Yes, Henry.”
He let the curtain fall back. Prosser was examining the row of leather belts. Henry had recently installed some hooks to better display them.
“Are you in need of a belt, Mr Prosser?”
The man turned. “No,” he said. “I’ve a man works for me who is more than capable of turning a hide into anything we need.”
“You’re most fortunate.” Henry lowered his gaze, annoyed to miss out on a possible sale. Some of these bush folk were very clever at turning their hands to making all kinds of things. Still, once they made a bit more money he was sure they would prefer the finer items he could provide.
Catherine stepped from behind the curtain. “Your tea is ready, Henry.”
She smiled sweetly as Prosser swept a surprised look over her.
“This is Mr Prosser, my dear.”
“How do you do, Mr Prosser? I hope you like pikelets. I’ve just taken some from the pan.”
“Very kind, Mrs Wiltshire.”
Henry saw the appreciative look Prosser gave his wife. He was sure it wasn’t just over the offer of pikelets. Prosser gripped Catherine’s hand a little longer then let it go, as his gaze travelled down her body.
The bell over the door tinkled and a woman entered.
“Hello, Mrs Harris.” Catherine went to meet her.
“This way, Mr Prosser.” Henry held back the curtain and ushered the huge man through to the parlour. Ah, yes, Henry thought to himself. His wife was proving useful in so many ways.
Catherine rolled up the last of the bolts of cloth she had laid out for Mrs Harris. It had been hard work convincing her to buy something other than brown serge for a new dress but she had finally persuaded the dour woman to buy a dark blue, still serge but at least a different colour.
Behind her, Henry pulled back the curtain and ushered Mr Prosser back into the shop. Catherine smiled at the ugly man. She hated the way his eyes ranged over her as if she were another item to be purchased from her husband’s shop. She did her best not to show her feelings. Mr Prosser was one of Henry’s clients and it was her job to make him feel welcome.
Prosser inclined his head to her. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Wiltshire.”
“Good day to you, Mr Prosser.”
The door opened and let in a blast of heat along with the distant whistle of the train.
Henry drew out his watch. “Right on time.” He closed the door on Prosser and turned, a broad smile spread across his face. “That was a most fortuitous meeting.”
“I’m glad.”
“Mr Prosser knows a lot about this country.”
“Does he?”
“He says the farmers on the plains are doomed. The only place to make a living is in the hills.”
“But there are so many families farming on the plains.”
“Yes, I’m not sure that Prosser is one hundred per cent right about that but he’s been in the area longer than me.” Henry’s dark brown eyes widened. “And you’ll never guess where he lives.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t, Henry.”
“Mr Prosser is a neighbour to that uncouth Baker fellow who was in the shop a few weeks back.”
Catherine frowned. “Baker?”
“With the rabble of children and natives.”
“Yes, I remember.” Catherine had found them all rather pleasant but she wasn’t about to tell her husband that.
“Prosser says Baker has the natives living with him and … well I won’t tell you some of the scandalous things he told me about their arrangements. Not suitable for your delicate ears, my dear.”
Catherine was disappointed. There was little of interest that happened in Hawker; the idea of some gossip, and more than that, gossip that might be a little salacious, was quite delectable. She knew there would be no point in pressing Henry.
“I’ve made a good sale in your absence. Mrs Harris took a length of fabric for a new dress, two shirts for her husband and a bag of grocery items.”
“Well done, my dear.” Henry gave her a condescending smile and patted her on the hand. “You are quite the salesperson. Once we get some more money behind us I will build you a separate house and employ an assistant. Then you can be a lady of leisure.” His grin deepened and there was a glint in his eye.
Catherine held in the sigh that wanted to escape her lips. She longed for a fine home, there was no denying that, but she didn’t intend to be a slave to it. Her mother had a housekeeper but she also lived in Adelaide where there were plenty of other pursuits to keep her occupied. Catherine had no idea how she would pass her time all day if she didn’t have the shop and Henry’s occasional clients to attend to.
His hand slid down and patted her bottom. She pretended she hadn’t felt it and moved on to unpack some new handkerchiefs that were amongst the goods that had arrived on yesterday’s train. He needn’t think that she would sit at home waiting to attend to his needs at any time of the day either. She enjoyed his attention in bed most times now but when he took her during the day she was always so tired afterwards. He would have a short doze then go back to work with a spring in his step. She would be left to drag herself from the bed and then have to spend a long time redressing and doing her hair. Then Henry often became impatient with her. She had to be careful to keep his ardour sated at night so that during the day her body was her own.
Besides, she had a suspicion she was with child. She put a hand to her stomach. Was there a slight bulge? She glanced in Henry’s direction. His head was bent over the book of figures he kept. She wasn’t sure how he was going to take that news. There had been no discussion about children. She wondered where they fitted into his schemes, or if they did at all. She needed the counsel of another woman, but so far she’d met few, and certainly none Henry wished her to keep company with.
Catherine decided she would write to her mother. She needed help to decide on the best way to tell him. The very thought of it gave her heart. She went back to her handkerchiefs. Her mother would advise her on the best way to manage a husband. Catherine lifted her head with a start as a hand slipped around her waist from behind.
“Henry,” she gasped.
“It’s been a very profitable morning, my dear.” He bent forward, brushed his lips across her neck and nibbled her ear.
Normally Catherine loved the feel of his whiskers on her skin and the nipping of his teeth but they weren’t in the privacy of their bedroom.
“It’s not even midday yet.” She stiffened in his arms and tried to keep her tone confident.
Henry wasn’t to be put off. He spun her to face him. “I think we should celebrate.” He kissed her lips. “In the daylight.”
“But Henry …” Her words were lost as he scooped her up.
The shop door opened and the bell jangled.
“Well my word. What is going on here?”
Henry nearly dropped Catherine in his haste to put her back on her feet. She had trouble standing. Her knees had gone to jelly at the voice she recognised.
“Mother.” Henry straightened his coat and hurried around the counter.
Short in stature and carrying more weight than when Catherine had last seen her, Harriet Wiltshire glared from Catherine to her son, then, as he wrapped his mother in his arms, Catherine saw Harriet’s benevolent smile.
“Hello, Mrs Wiltshire.” Catherine’s cheeks radiated heat and yet a shiver wriggled down her back as her mother-in-law looked her way.
Henry held his mother at arm’s length. “This is wonderful. How did you get here? Why?”
“On the train. To see you.” Harriet cupped Henry’s cheek in her gloved hand. “I must say I wasn’t expecting to witness what I did when I arrived.” Once more she glared in Catherine’s direction.
“We were celebrating, Mother.” Henry’s tone was subservient. That was rare. Catherine had only ever heard him that way in his mother’s presence.
“Indeed. This is a place to conduct business, not a hotel. Although I shudder to think what kind of people carry on in such a way, even in a hotel.” Harriet drew up her small frame and for the first time Catherine noticed her walking stick.
“Are you injured, Mrs Wiltshire? Should we get a chair?”
“This?” Harriet looked down and waved the polished wooden stick back and forth. “It’s just a precaution. When I’ve been sitting a while my hip locks up. I don’t need a chair but I’d be grateful for a cup of tea.”
“Of course.” Catherine turned and fled into the house leaving her husband to deal with his mother.
“So this is what you’ve built with my money.” Harriet sat at the dining table with her cup of tea and a slice of Catherine’s fruit cake. She had inspected each part of the shop and the attached dwelling.
Catherine hovered in the kitchen doorway ready to fetch whatever else took Harriet’s fancy. Henry sat at the head of the table. He leaned across and patted his mother’s arm.
“Our money, Mother.”
Harriet smiled. Henry was her pride and joy. Catherine put a hand to her stomach. Would she feel this same adoration for her own child?
“You certainly have no room for visitors.” Harriet flicked a look around the small room crowded with furniture.
Catherine was relieved she had managed to get everything dusted and tidy this morning before Henry had needed her in the shop. She felt the heat rise up her neck and into her cheeks. Thank the good Lord Henry hadn’t taken her into the bedroom before Harriet arrived.
“I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.” Henry gave Catherine an enquiring look.
She took a step forward, not sure what to say.
Harriet laughed. “Look at your worried faces. Don’t be concerned my dears. A gentleman met the train with a delightful horse and trap. He is building a hotel and has temporary lodgings which will do me quite well. I will stay two nights then return to Adelaide. I can’t leave my own business for too long. Miss Wicksteed keeps a good eye on the shop and Mrs Simpson is an excellent overseer in the workroom but some of my girls are still learning the sewing trade and I must be there to instruct them.”
“How is business, mother?”
“Very profitable. The shop I bought in O’Connell St has been a very fortunate experience. North Adelaide is proving to be the most wonderful address for all manner of shopping and ladies appreciate my dresses and my fine linen.” She took a sip of tea then put the cup back in its pretty saucer and traced a finger around the rim. “I see you are using your tea set.”
“Yes, thank you Mrs Wiltshire. It was a most generous gift and has been put to much use already. Henry has had several clients who have enjoyed their tea from it.”
“I’ve brought you a new cloth for your table and a rather pretty milk jug. They’re still in my trunk at the hotel.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs Wiltshire.” Between her mother and her mother-in-law Catherine had a number of fine linens and pretty china and glassware. It was as if they competed to outdo each other. She hadn’t had a lot of use for much of it as yet.
“Your business is going well, Henry?” Harriet turned back to her son.
“I’ve made several good deals already.”
“Perhaps you will make your money quicker than expected. There’s room close to my shop for another. Gentleman’s fashion would complement my shop. We could truly be in business together.”
“I’m not that far advanced yet, Mother, but I am pleased with the direction business is taking here.”
With both the chairs at their dining table taken, Catherine stood where she was as her husband and his mother discussed business. It was another unbearably hot day and she longed to undo her buttons. She was tempted by the comfortable parlour chairs in the corner but in this heat she often felt drowsy when she settled there. Someone could come into the shop at any moment or Harriet may require something more. Catherine needed to remain alert but an odd feeling crept over her from her toes to her head. Her lips tingled and spots danced before her eyes. The voices in the room receded and she crumpled to the floor.
Henry saw his mother’s worried look then heard the thud behind him. He rose from his chair to find his wife on the floor.
“Catherine.” He knelt beside her and patted her hand. “Catherine?”
“Has she been unwell?” His mother was peering over his shoulder.
“No.” Henry frowned. “Perhaps, just lately. A bit peaky in the mornings but she has never been an early riser.”
“Put her on the bed.”
Henry scooped Catherine up in his arms. Her face had lost colour. “Catherine?” He laid her gently on the bed and undid her tops buttons. Her eyelids fluttered.
“Here.” His mother came in and stood at the end of the bed, a cloth in her outstretched hand.
The cloth was damp and cool. He patted Catherine’s forehead and cheeks and wiped her neck.
“Catherine, my dear.”
Her eyelids fluttered again and then opened. Her sweet lips made a round O of surprise. She tried to sit up but he put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“You must rest, Catherine. You’re not well.”
“Please don’t fuss Henry. I was overwhelmed by the heat, that’s all.”
He frowned. “We’ve had nothing but heat since we arrived here.”
“I know. It’s silly. I don’t know what came over me.” Catherine took the cloth from his hand and held it to her neck.
“Some water perhaps?”
Henry looked back at his mother. She must have gone from the room and come back again, this time carrying a teacup. He took it from her and put it to Catherine’s lips.
“Thank you.” Catherine glanced from Henry to his mother. “Both of you. I’m feeling much better.”
“Are you with child?”
Henry snapped his head a
round in surprise at his mother’s direct question. She had pulled herself up straight and was peering down her nose at Catherine.
“I believe I might be, yes.” Catherine’s voice was barely a whisper.
Henry gazed down at his wife. “My dear.” He clasped her hand. “My dear.”
“You’ve said that, Henry,” Harriet snapped.
“This is the most wonderful news.” He bent and kissed Catherine’s lips, ignoring his mother’s presence.
“You’re pleased then?” Catherine’s big round eyes brimmed with tears.
“Of course.”
“This house won’t be big enough for much longer then, will it?” Harriet’s tone was brusque. “There’s barely room for a crib in your bedroom let alone another bed.”
“We will manage.” Henry felt as if his chest would explode with pride. He stood tall and beamed at his mother. “I will be a father and you a grandmamma.”
Harriet took a deep breath through her nose. She opened her mouth but the bell from the shop gave a sharp ring.
“Come, Mother.” He cupped her elbow and steered her to the door. “We’ll let Catherine rest and you can meet some of my customers.”
“Very well.” Harriet’s voice softened. “That is one of the main reasons for my journey.”
Henry guided his mother out then paused in the bedroom doorway and gave his wife a broad smile. “Rest, my dear. I’ll be back soon.”
She waved her fingers at him and rolled over onto her side in a fluid movement that was rather sensual. Another surge of pride filled his chest. He had a growing business, a beautiful wife and now he was to be a father. Life was treating him very well.
“Henry!”
The sound of his mother’s horrified call broke the mood. He stepped beyond the curtain into the shop and nearly ran into his mother. She stood ramrod straight. In front of her on the other side of the counter were two natives, a man and a woman. Henry glanced around. There was no-one else in the shop. He looked back at the natives. For a moment he thought they were the two who had accompanied that fool Baker a few weeks ago. Now that he looked closer he could see the woman in an ill-fitting dress was older than the girl who’d been with Baker, and the man in trousers, shirt and waistcoat more solid than the previous native.
Dust on the Horizon Page 7
