He released her and threw open the door to the back of the house, calling for Netty and Danny. They entered the parlour, Netty wiping her hands on her apron. Danny cast his mother an anxious glance and as he sat down beside her, she put an arm around him.
Richard clapped his hands together. ‘Wonderful news,’ he said. ‘Daniel, your mother has agreed to marry me.’
Netty looked at Adelaide. ‘I’m very pleased for you,’ she said, without warmth.
Danny looked from Adelaide to Richard and back again. ‘What does that mean?’
Richard frowned, clearly perplexed by the less than enthusiastic reception to his news. ‘What it means, young man, is that you and your mother are coming back to England with me. We’ll get a nice house in London with servants and—’
He got no further. Danny wriggled out of his mother’s grasp and ran from the room, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
Richard looked at Adelaide, who, in turn looked at Netty.
‘It’ll be a shock to the boy,’ Netty said. ‘You know how he is. He needs to think about it.’
Adelaide smiled at Richard. ‘Maybe it is best you leave us for the moment, Richard. We will talk further tomorrow.’
He took her hand and drew her towards him, but she turned her face, allowing him only a chaste kiss on the cheek.
Netty saw Richard to the door. ‘Why?’ she asked as his footsteps receded down the path.
‘You know why,’ Adelaide replied.
‘And I told you, that was not a good reason. Do you love him?’
Adelaide bit her lip. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But not many marriages, particularly among my class, are established on love. I’m sorry, Netty, but this is not about me and what I want. It is for Danny.’
‘Then you better go and talk to him,’ Netty said.
Adelaide found Danny lying fully clothed on top of his bed. He sat up when she entered the room.
‘That was extremely rude,’ she said.
He looked down and nodded. ‘I know. I apologise, Mama.’
She sat down on the edge of his bed. ‘Do you not like Richard?’
He hefted a sigh. ‘I suppose so. He’s nice to you and that’s what counts.’
For a fraction of a second Adelaide hesitated, torn by a sudden desire to confide the truth in the child.
‘And he’s nice to you too,’ she said. ‘Look at the wonderful presents he’s brought you.’
Danny cast her a sideways glance that reminded her of her father. Sir Daniel Lewis had an instantaneous suspicion of anyone who he perceived to be currying his favour.
‘I have told him I can’t leave Maiden’s Creek until I have someone to take over the post office. Then we will go to Melbourne and Richard and I will be married and we can take the next passage to England.’
‘What about Netty?’
What about Netty?
‘I’ll have to ask her what she wants to do,’ Adelaide said. ‘Now, into your nightshirt and bed.’
‘Where will we live in England?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe London. You’ll like London. There is so much history and wonderful museums and we may even see the Queen.’
Danny’s reaction could not be gauged as he pulled his nightshirt over his head.
As she tucked him in, she said. ‘Don’t tell anyone our news just yet.’
He looked at her. ‘Not even Caleb?’
Especially not Caleb.
‘No one,’ she repeated. ‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
Adelaide kissed her son goodnight and crossed the hall to her own bedroom. There had been no relief from the heat of the last few days and she lay on top of her bedclothes, drenched in perspiration, while her mind whirled around the ramifications of that simple word—yes.
Twenty-Nine
13 February 1872
‘Where have you been?’
Posy, now respectably dressed in better-fitting cast-offs, hopped from one foot to the other as she opened the door to a hot and exhausted Caleb. He flung his medical bag down on the table and removed his hat, running his hand through his sweat-drenched hair.
‘I have been down at the Italian settlement, Posy. It’s been one hell of a couple of days. The Capellis’ two-year-old daughter pulled a pot of boiling water down on herself on Sunday and they didn’t call me out till yesterday morning.’
Posy’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘Is she—will she be … all right?’
‘I don’t know,’ Caleb said flatly.
‘Poor little mite.’ Tears welled in Posy’s eyes. She sniffed and wiped them away with her apron.
Caleb pointed to a parcel. ‘There’s fish in there. Can you cook that up for supper? It won’t keep in this heat. The Capellis gave it to me in lieu of payment.’
Posy frowned. ‘A few shillings would’ve been more useful,’ she said.
‘I know, but it’ll do us both for supper.’
Caleb collapsed into his chair and blew out a breath.
As Posy busied herself with fish, she said, ‘You’ll not have heard the news?’
‘What news?’
‘Mrs Greaves is going to marry her English suitor.’
Caleb paused in the act of pulling off his boots. ‘Is she?’
‘It would be so lovely if they got married here, but no, they are going to Melbourne and then leaving for England.’
‘How do you know all this?’
Posy crouched down beside the fire and set the skillet to heat. ‘Emmy, the housemaid at The Empress overheard Mr Barnwell telling Mrs Riordan and Emmy told Betsy who works at the Britannia and Betsy told me.’
That meant the whole town knew.
After Posy served supper, she gathered up her belongings. ‘Can you smell smoke?’ she asked as she opened the front door.
Caleb sniffed the hot, heavy air. Overlaying the odours of Maiden’s Creek itself he could detect the scent of smoky eucalyptus, stronger than it had been on the previous days. ‘Yes. Down at the Italian settlement they said there’s fire in the mountains to the north of us.’
‘Will it come here?’
‘They reckon the weather will break soon.’ They had also said that if a hot northerly wind blew up, nothing would stop a fire raging through the tinder-dry woodland, but he saw no point in concerning Posy with that knowledge.
Alone in the darkening evening, Caleb leaned back in his chair and pulled his pipe and tobacco pouch from his waistcoat pocket. A crumpled paper came with it.
He tapped the bowl of his pipe on the table as he stared at the paper. What right did he have to interfere in Adelaide’s life? He didn’t know what Barnwell had told her and maybe—perhaps—he had advised her of the contents of the solicitor’s letter? Was that why she had been so quick to accept his proposal? It would guarantee her and Danny a life that Caleb could never have given them.
He lit his pipe and poured another beer as he opened the ledger and recorded the day’s events.
Maria Capelli, aged 2 years and 3 months, sustained serious burns when a pan of boiling water fell on her. Patient was still alive on my arrival and I saw her immersed in cold water. She has severe burns to her body and right hand and arm and was in great pain. A light dose of laudanum eased her suffering and she was asleep when I left. I will return in the morning.
Caleb blotted his writing and closed the book with a thump. The cold, clinical recitation of the facts did not record the depth of Maria’s mother’s guilt and grief or that of the other family members. If little Maria survived, she would be scarred for life, but the invisible scars would run deeper.
The stifling heat in the cottage closed around him and he pushed back his chair, found the bottle with the last of Bowen’s whiskey and sat on the verandah while he smoked his pipe. The paper recording Barnwell’s duplicity lay on the bench beside him and as the whiskey went down, he remembered Sissy’s bruises and the fact she had found the letter in Barnwell’s pocket, opened. Barnwell had not given Adelaide the letter. Every ins
tinct told him that Barnwell had misled Adelaide as to the nature of his intentions.
He glanced at his pocket watch. Ten o’clock. Late to be calling, but Adelaide had to know what he knew. If she threw him out into the street, all the better. At least his conscience would be clear.
He snatched up the paper, hurrying down the steep path to the main street. A single light still burned in the parlour window of the post office and he hesitated at the gate to the residence, his hand on the latch, wondering again if he was misinterpreting the situation. He hadn’t imagined Sissy’s bruises and her assertion that Barnwell was one of those who liked it ‘rough’. This was the man who would be taking Adelaide to bed … a man who spent the evening courting Adelaide and the night at Lil’s Place.
He knocked on the door and Adelaide herself answered it, still fully dressed, the black of her gown relieved now by a fine lace collar.
‘Caleb? Is that you?’
‘Can I come in, Adelaide?’
‘It’s very late—’
‘It’s important.’
She stood aside and opened the door, admitting him into the familiar, comfortable parlour. Her ledgers lay open on the table, illuminated by a paraffin lamp.
‘I was working,’ she said, following his gaze. ‘I have to get the post office affairs in order—’
‘Before you leave?’
She flinched at his harsh tone and looked up at him with wide brown eyes. ‘You’ve heard?’
‘Yes. You’re going to marry Barnwell and leave Maiden’s Creek for a life in London.’
‘There are no secrets in this town,’ she said.
‘Not when your betrothed chooses to tell his landlady,’ Caleb said. ‘When were you going to tell me?’
‘I—I—’
‘I see. You had no intention of telling me. I would wake one morning and you would be gone. I was nothing more to you than a passing fancy.’
She shook her head. ‘No, you’re wrong. You have been much more to me, but there are reasons—good reasons for marrying Richard.’ She straightened her shoulders, a spark of the old Adelaide in her eyes as she said, ‘Anyway, I don’t see that it is any business of yours. You made that perfectly clear the other night.’
He took a step towards her and grasped her forearms, not hard, but firmly enough to force her to look into his face. Everything they had become to each other in the past few months burned in his heart. But she looked at him with blank eyes and he released his grip and took a step back.
‘Before you take this step, can I ask you one question? What has Barnwell told you about the terms of your father’s will?’
She hesitated. ‘My father’s will? What business is that of yours?’
Caleb fingered the paper in his pocket. ‘The concern of a friend,’ he said.
‘Since you ask, as far as my father was concerned, I was dead. He told Richard as much.’
‘Then who would have been your father’s heir?’
I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care. I have a cousin. Papa despised him but he is the only possible heir I can think of.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Why are you asking me these questions?’
He took a deep breath. ‘I have reason to believe that Barnwell is not being honest with you. Before you tie yourself to him, do this one thing: ask him if he knows the exact terms of your father’s will.’
‘I’ve already asked him. Why would I do so again?’
Caleb wrestled with his conscience, torn between a desire to show Adelaide the incriminating letter or let her discover the truth for herself. ‘Just ask him and if he tells you he doesn’t know, then take no further action until you have satisfied yourself by writing to your father’s solicitor in England.’ He paused. ‘Is his name Makepeace?’
She stared at him. ‘Yes, but how would you know that?’
‘Telegraph him, Adelaide. This is important. It’s already been years, what does a few months matter? Don’t rush into marriage with Barnwell until you know all the facts.’
She crossed to the door. ‘Caleb, I value your friendship, but this is not your concern. Please don’t interfere in matters you know nothing about.’
Caleb leaned a hand against the door, preventing her from opening it. ‘Adelaide, you may hate me for this, but I cannot live with my conscience if I let you go into this marriage without knowing the truth.’ He pulled the crumpled scrap of paper from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to her. ‘Read this.’
She took a step back, her hands behind her back as she shook her head. ‘No, I don’t want it.’
‘Read it. If it changes nothing, then so be it.’
She reached for the paper, her fingers brushing his before he dropped his hand. She carried it over to the light on the table and unfolded it. She frowned and looked up at him. ‘What is this nonsense? To begin with, it is written by a child.’
Caleb shook his head. ‘It’s a copy made by a friend, someone who cares about you. Barnwell has the original.’
‘What friend? How did you come by it?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘And this friend couldn’t come to me directly?’
‘No. Please read it, Adelaide.’
Adelaide smoothed the creases of the copy of the letter, aware of the man standing by the door watching her, waiting for her reaction. Whatever Caleb Hunt knew, or thought he knew, it didn’t matter. This was not about that long-ago love, or her father’s estate. It was about Danny.
For a long moment, the childish letters danced before her eyes and she had to read it through several times before the letters resolved into words and the meaning of the words became clear.
If the terms of her father’s will were as described, Danny would have the life to which he was entitled. Her father had left them both more than well provided for, but in his vindictive way, he was reaching beyond the grave to taunt her. Here is your inheritance, he was saying, but it will never quite be yours. You will be beholden for the rest of your life to the trustee—the man you marry.
Richard Barnwell.
The realisation hit her with the force of a blow and her hand flew to her mouth to stifle the sob that rose in her throat. If Richard held the original letter, Richard knew the terms of the will. And yet Richard had implied that her father had made no provision at all for her. He had lied.
More than lied. By marrying her he would take control of her father’s estate as sole trustee of both Danny’s and her inheritance. All his professions of love and wanting the best for her and her son were predicated on the knowledge that he would become a wealthy man on her money.
She took a shuddering breath and turned to face Caleb. ‘I owe you an explanation,’ she said.
The colour drained from his face and he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry to have brought this to you, but I thought you had a right to know. Beyond that, you don’t owe me anything.’
She bit her lip. ‘I do, Caleb. For the sake of our friendship, and what might have been between us. There is something you need to understand. Richard Barnwell is … is … He’s … Danny’s father.’ A tear ran down her face. She dashed it away like an annoying fly.
Caleb caught her by the arm. ‘Your husband?’
‘No!’ She started to tremble as the weight of half a lifetime of deception bore down on her. ‘That’s it, Caleb.’ She tugged at her black skirts. ‘All this is a lie. I was never married. It was so long ago … I was so young, so naive.’
Whatever he had thought she was going to say, it clearly had not been this. He stared at her, his grey eyes wide with shock. She struggled in his grasp but he drew her in to him, wrapping his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest, the beat of his heart reassuring and strong.
The tears of shame, humiliation, anger—so many emotions—welled up and she sank to the floor, bringing him with her. They sat with their backs to the day bed, Caleb’s arms around her while she sobbed into the large white handkerchief he handed her.
When she could cry no more, he sa
id, ‘You don’t have to say any more. I can guess.’
She shook her head. ‘No. I need you to know the truth.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Richard was the younger son of one of my father’s business acquaintances. I would say friend, but my father had no friends, only people who could be of use to him. His sister and I knew each other and as I grew older, we would meet socially, but nothing more. To him I would have just been an annoying little girl. Father had ambitions for me and the man I would marry. He lavished money on my coming out year and no longer was I a child in the nursery but a young woman. A young woman with a fortune to her name. Richard paid me every attention and I, in my foolish romantic heart, believed myself to be in love.’ Her hands twisted in her lap. ‘It was the night of the Countess of Birmingham’s ball. Such a sumptuous affair. I’d had too much champagne and I was giddy from the lights, the music, the attention of all the young men. Richard was at my side, ever solicitous, and he suggested I clear my head in the conservatory. He kissed me and then we …’ She shuddered.
Caleb pulled her closer. ‘Don’t say any more, Adelaide.’
Adelaide lowered her head. ‘I had no idea what we were doing. No one ever told me … Afterwards, he promised he would ask my father for my hand, but first he had some business for his own father in Savannah. I didn’t see him for weeks and then he sent me a note to say he would be sailing the next day on one of my father’s ships.’
She bit her lip, but the tears came again. Twisting Caleb’s sodden handkerchief in her hand, she continued, ‘He had sailed before I realised I may be with child but I had the hope that on his return we could face my father together and we would be wed and all would be well.’ She swallowed and continued. ‘Then came the news came that the ship had gone down with all hands. I knew my father would be—angry would not even begin to describe his reaction were he to find out my condition—so I left the house with Netty and my mother’s jewellery. I knew I had to get as far away from my father as I could, so I sold some of the jewellery to buy our passage to Australia and I became the newly widowed Mrs Greaves. Danny was born just after we docked in Melbourne. No one knew … no one guessed … no one questioned.’ She looked up at him. ‘I made a good life for us, I—’
The Postmistress Page 24
