Lizzie, My Love

by Sara Bennett - Lizzie, My Love

  She found the office at the front of the house, with Mary’s help, and tapped on the door as if nothing were making her heart bump and her legs shake. A voice asked briskly for her to enter.

  He was sitting at a desk, glancing through some letters. He looked up at her with a half-smile, polite but nothing more. She stood before him, very stiff and straight, hands clasped properly before her. Her voice was as cool as she wanted it.

  “Mr. Gray.”

  “Miss Banister. I’ve asked Jessie to show you over the house and tell you what’s what. She should be here shortly. Perhaps you could sit down?”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  “As you wish.” The matter was obviously one of indifference to him. He read through another letter, and then set it aside, straightening the pile.

  “Is there any particular thing you wish me to remember, sir? Any particular... instructions for me?”

  He looked up, almost startled. “Particular things?”

  “Well... about the meals or... anything. Any... well, special fancy of yours that...”

  He looked back at his fingers, interlocked on the desk in front of him, and she had the sudden impression he was struggling to keep in laughter.

  “Eh, no, nothing like that. Ah, here’s Jessie!”

  There was relief in his face as Jessie Grant entered the room, and Lizzie wondered if he was glad to be rid of her, as she turned with a stiff smile of welcome.

  She knew at once that Jessie knew; saw the knowledge in the other woman’s blue eyes as they slid from Zek Gray to her. Lizzie wanted to shuffle her feet but dared not give way to any emotion at all.

  “Mr. Gray, did you rest well, sir?” There was a taunt there, but if he heard it he pretended otherwise.

  “Yes, yes. Jessie, please show Miss Banister around and... well, inform her of anything you feel she will need to know. Is Ralph ready?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s around at the stables with the horses. Mrs. Bailey called in while you were away, sir. She seemed most... eager to see you, sir.”

  Lizzie wondered how he could put up with Jessie’s insidious comments without slapping her plump face.

  But Zek Gray seemed merely thoughtful. “Angelica?” he frowned, and then smiled rather ruefully. “All right. I’ll ride out there later today. Thank you for telling me, Jessie. Good morning, Miss Banister.”

  “Good morning, sir,” she said in a freezing voice.

  They went out and closed the door.

  Jessie began to take her through the house, naming each room in a colorless, though very efficient manner. It was quite a large homestead, the rooms tending to lead off each other rather than on to a hallway. This was the way they had been built in the early days, Jessie Grant informed her. The furnishings were comfortable if not precisely grand, though a couple of particularly elegant pieces caught Lizzie’s eye.

  “Of course,” Jessie said, “when Mr. Gray marries he will wish to make the place more fitting for his wife. At the moment, however, it suits him as it stands.”

  Lizzie, who had noted the fading paintwork and rather scratched wooden floors merely nodded. If Jessie was hoping for a bite she would be disappointed.

  The kitchen was built a little way from the main house, in case of fire. It was hot inside, and a number of the girls were introduced to her, their eyes bold and assessing. Lizzie felt tired already with the strain of putting on a front, and wondered how she would get through the rest of the day.

  “This is Ellen and Dulcie and Betty,” Jessie introduced them. “I usually do the cooking, Miss Banister. Perhaps we could discuss menus later? I thought... but perhaps you will be busy tonight?”

  One of the girls sniggered, and Lizzie felt her flesh go cold and numb. After a moment she said, “Thank you, Mrs. Grant, but later will suit me perfectly.”

  Jessie smiled, but her eyes were gleaming with malice. “We usually have our largest meal in the evening, with a light luncheon. Mr Gray rarely comes in to eat in the middle of the day. He has a large breakfast, and that seems to be enough for him.”

  “I see.”

  There was a vegetable garden and an orchard, and a few flowers at the front of the house which needed some care. The paddocks stretched away in all directions, neatly fenced. Lizzie saw men riding horses, sheep were bleating, and wheat waving. She blinked at the prospect, shading her eyes against the increasing glare of the sun.

  “The Baileys’ homestead is over there,” Jessie murmured close to her ear.

  She looked but could not see it.

  “They are our nearest neighbors, of course. Then there are the Tuckers, but they rarely visit. Mr. Gray finds little in common with them.”

  Lizzie looked at her in surprise. “Why not?”

  “Well...” Jessie smoothed her skirts. “Mr. Gray is hardly a family man, is he, Miss Banister?”

  Lizzie met her eyes. They were shining, not at all friendly or kind. Jessie hated her because she thought her Zek’s mistress. She hoped Lizzie got hurt. Why? Because Lizzie had taken her place? Or because Jessie was jealous of the position she imagined Lizzie held in his affections?

  “Thank you, Mrs. Grant,” she said suddenly. “I think that is all I need to know. I shall learn, I expect, as I go along. I will go now and arrange to have the house thoroughly cleaned. I noticed quite a few areas this morning which had not been attended to in a very long time.”

  Jessie’s face flushed red at the criticism, but she said nothing as Lizzie turned away. Lizzie allowed herself a small smile as she made her way back to the house. Well, that should please them! They could tear her character to shreds now, knowing she loathed them just as much as they seemed to loathe her.

  Somehow the day passed. She had intended to take her own meal in her room that evening, but Jessie seemed so surprised and gleeful she decided after all to eat with Zek Gray, no matter how much it cost her.

  It was getting dark when he came in. Lizzie had been working herself up to this moment, and had taken special pains with her appearance, dragging her hair back and buttoning her gown up to its topmost button. She couldn’t have looked plainer or more dowdy than she did at that moment, and felt rather pleased with herself.

  She did not look up at the door of the sitting-room when it opened, and pretended not to hear his boots crossing the floor towards her.

  “Miss Banister!” he greeted her heartily, and began to pour himself out a drink.

  He had been away all afternoon at the Baileys’ place. She eyed him under her lashes, seeing the pale tense look about his mouth and wondering if he really were as much in love with the beautiful Angelica as the tavern girl had hinted. Other than that, he looked tired and dusty, and seemed in genuine need of the drink.

  He turned and looked at her, where she sat observing him, the glass in his hand. His eyes were quite unreadable, his smile a mere polite mask.

  “How did your day go, Miss Banister? Everything satisfactory?”

  “Thank you, yes.”

  “Jessie show you everything you need to know?”

  “Yes.” Jessie had shown her, at least, who her friends were!

  “Well then...” he set down the now empty glass. “I’ll go and wash before dinner.”

  For some reason, as they sat at the table and Mary served the meal, Lizzie kept remembering how he had held her and kissed her, the feel of his flesh under her hands, the warm smooth skin of his broad back and shoulders. Her hands shook so that she had to clench them under the table, knowing she was a fool.

  He had changed his shirt, and his hair was still a little damp where the water had splashed. He seemed as preoccupied as she, staring at his plate, and eating as if it were an afterthought. There was a long, tense silence.

  Lizzie drew a breath. “I was wondering, sir, if you would allow me to work in your front garden. It seems in sad repair.”

  He looked up, as though startled to see her sitting there. As if he had forgotten her existence. After a moment he bent back to his plate.


  “Of course, do as you wish.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  He looked up again, narrowing his eyes at her acidity, “I’m rarely kind, Miss Banister, and you should remember that. By the way, I am to tell you that Mrs. Bailey is calling some time to see you. She seems to think a new housekeeper merits a personal viewing, so you must prepare yourself for the ordeal.”

  Lizzie’s eyes grew larger. “Ordeal? Is she so frightening then?”

  He laughed sharply. “She is... unusual, Miss Banister. But you must judge for yourself. By the way, I meant to tell you that if you wish any mail sent back to your sister you must have it out on the office table by Monday. All the mail goes then.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Gray. I’ll remember.”

  He drank from his glass, gazing through her. Lizzie dropped her chin, staring moodily at the table in front of her, her fingers twisting together in her lap.

  “Lizzie,” he said, and then, when she looked up, bit his lip and shook his head. “No matter,” he said softly, mockingly, and his eyes teased her lips and the high-buttoned collar of her gown and the ugly style of her hair. As if none of it existed, as if he could see her quite plainly as she had been in his arms.

  After a moment she knew she couldn’t sit there and let him break down all her carefully prepared defenses, and she rose, excusing herself.

  “Running away, Lizzie,” he said softly, but other than that let her go.

  Her room was a haven, and she stood there, viewing it with a sort of relief.

  The first day had come and gone, and she had survived it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LIFE went on. There seemed plenty to do, and Lizzie could always invent more. She spent some time in the garden, tidying it up, and planting out some bulbs she had found in the still room. Jessie Grant said they would die, because it was too late in the spring to plant, but Lizzie said nothing. The other woman was always jabbing her with little comments and innuendos. It was better to ignore them and hope, in time, she would grow tired of the game and stop it.

  In fact there was plenty to be busy with, and Lizzie began to wonder how she could feel so alone in a place that buzzed with life and people. And yet she did feel alone. Zek Gray was always out, and when she saw him at meals he spoke very little more than polite pleasantries. His lips spoke them, at least, even while his black eyes teased her for her proper manner and proper clothing and proper conversation. He put a strain on her defenses that she had never had to endure before.

  If he had touched her, it couldn’t have been worse. She almost wished he would approach her in the passageway to her bedroom, like that long ago rake had done, and then she could slap his face and make it plain she wanted none of him. But just to look... what could she say to him? Don’t look! He would lift his eyebrows in mock amazement, or throw back his dark head and roar with laughter. And that she couldn’t bear.

  Angelica Bailey had called as promised. Lizzie had known who she was the moment the other woman came riding up to the homestead on a dark, spirited little mare. Other women would drive gigs, or even have someone drive them in a carriage, if they could afford it. Not Angelica. Lizzie watched her flying up the path, blonde hair tossing under a dark blue bonnet, her riding habit fitting like a glove. She was the sort of woman you expected to be the mistress of the king, or a foreign princess at least. Something special and exciting. She had restless, slanting blue eyes, and a smiling pink mouth, and her voice was quick and impatient. But she was beautiful, and Lizzie decided she was just the sort of partner Zek Gray would look for.

  “Miss Banister? You are not at all plain! I shall have to berate Zek for telling me such lies, shan’t I? Do you really intimidate him as much as he says you do? I do not believe he quakes in his boots, of course, but...”

  Lizzie’s rigid poise slipped a little. Her dark eyes sparkled, but all she said was, “Tea, Mrs. Bailey?”

  “Please!” The woman stripped off her gloves and sat down, untying the ribbons of her bonnet, and eyeing Lizzie as she too disposed herself, on a chair by the window. “Have you put old Grant’s nose out of joint? I suppose you have, taking over like that. Just like Zek though to hire himself a watch-dog! I beg pardon, Miss Banister. But he was rather worried, poor dear, that Jessie had begun to have designs on him. It seemed a sensible way to put them to an end, without hurting Ralph.”

  Lizzie blinked. “Do you mean he... and you knew he was bringing me back? I was under the impression–”

  That it had been a sudden decision, Lizzie had meant to ask. Zek Gray had struck her as a thoughtful man, but one who made his decisions quickly. The idea that he and Angelica had sat down and planned everything to the last detail made her very angry.

  “Oh Zek tells me everything!” the woman said airily, and smiled.

  She had white teeth—sharp little incisors. Like a cat, Lizzie thought, and decided the eyes were rather feline too. Glowing and watchful above the smiling pink mouth. Angelica was certainly not a name she would put to Mrs. Bailey!

  “Is your husband also a... a farmer, Mrs. Bailey?”

  “Squatter is the word, Miss Banister, usually applied to the men who own these large areas of land. And yes, he is. Or was. My husband is an invalid, Miss Banister, and quite old.”

  Lizzie felt she understood perfectly. Mr Bailey had a beautiful wife and was unable to keep her. Angelica could do as she pleased. The tea came, and Mary set it down carefully on the table between them, bobbing a curtsey for Angelica.

  “Mr. Gray is coming in shortly, ma’am. I’ve put by an extra cup for ‘im.”

  Lizzie smiled, and began to pour.

  “How did you meet Zek?” Angelica asked, taking her cup.

  “I thought he would be sure to tell you that too,” Lizzie murmured. “We met on the ship to Sydney Town.”

  “Ah!”

  But the blue eyes were hard, and curious. Lizzie knew instinctively that someone had already told her about the first night in residence, and wished once again that it had never happened.

  “Zek is an attractive man, Miss Banister. He finds women a challenge, let us say. But it means nothing. He soon tires.”

  Lizzie looked politely interested, though her cheeks were pink.

  Angelica smiled again, leaning forward confidingly. “Actually, I sometimes feel he’s just biding time. Waiting for Mr. Bailey to... well, you know. He’s always so very attentive to me, dear Zek.”

  “But how morbid,” Lizzie retorted.

  Angelica’s cup rattled, and she opened her mouth to retort.

  “May I come in?”

  They both looked up guiltily. Zek strode in, smiling first at Angelica, and then at Lizzie. The former rose with a laugh, catching his hands in hers, and tiptoed to kiss his brown cheek.

  “Zek, my dear, I didn’t hear you. Miss Banister has been telling me you met on board ship. How romantic!”

  “Has she indeed,” he said.

  He sat down beside Angelica on the sofa and watched as Lizzie poured him out some tea. Her hand shook as she held out the cup to him, but he took it without noticeable expression. Angelica’s hands seemed to be all over him as she chattered about this and that, restless and possessive. Touching his shoulder, now his arm, brushing his lapel. Once she even rested her long fingers on his thigh, gazing into his eyes with a faint, feline smile. That they were lovers was plain enough without Angelica’s pains to make it so blatantly obvious. Lizzie wondered if Angelica was reacting to the gossip concerning her, but thought it would hardly matter to a woman as beautiful as she. Zek was watching Angelica, his eyes warm, but he made no move to respond to her touch, or to touch her back. He seemed content to sit back and let her do all the running. Lizzie thought him despicable, a monster who seduced old men’s wives. And an invalid to boot!

  At that moment Gray met her gaze over his cup, black eyes laughing with the old wickedness. Lizzie felt the color rise into her cheeks as she realized he had read her thought. Angelica, seeing the look pass between them
, seemed to take it for something entirely different, and rose to her feet almost clumsily, saying in a sharp, shrill voice:

  “Well, all very cozy, but I really must go! Poor Thomas will be waiting. Goodbye, my dear.” She kissed him hard on the lips. “Miss Banister,” a cold nod, and she turned. She looked over her shoulder to Zek at the door. “Aren’t you coming to see me off?”

  “But of course, Angel.”

  The sweetened form of her name made her eyes shine triumph at Lizzie, as she passed over the threshold.

  Alone, Lizzie set the cups back on the tray neatly, and brushed up some spilt sugar. She went to the window, turning her back to the room, and watched until Angelica rode past. The girl was kicking her mare into a gallop, and shot headlong down the driveway towards the road, hair and skirts flying.

  “Well, what do you think of her?”

  She managed not to start, and answered calmly enough. “She’s very beautiful, Mr. Gray.”

  “Isn’t she?”

  He sounded harsh, and she wondered why. Angelica plainly loved him, and if he was patient he could have her for his wife as well as his lover. The fact of that hurt her, sinking into her midriff like the sudden jab of a fist. She wanted to double up with the pain, and blinked away sudden tears of she knew not what. Jealousy, perhaps, that a woman could be so beautiful.

  “She has rather a sharp tongue,” he went on, “but altogether she is pleasing to both eye and ear, is she not, Lizzie?”

  She wondered why he was going on and on about it.

  “She would make you a fine partner, Mr. Gray. Is that what you want me to say?”

  He looked tense, but soon relaxed back into mockery. He laughed at the sight of her angry white face. “Maybe it is. She seems eager enough to accept the post. More eager than you were to accept that of housekeeper, eh, Lizzie?”

  “Hardly the same, is it, Mr. Gray?”

  “I disagree!” He moved restlessly. “Both positions require a certain interest in my comfort. And let me tell you, Lizzie, sometimes you make me damned uncomfortable!”

  “I’m sorry.” But she wasn’t, and didn’t sound it.