The Postmistress

by Alison Stuart

  She touched her cut lip. ‘The memory of the man I thought I loved sustained me through the last ten years. I liked to dream of the life we could have had together if he had lived. I realised while I was sitting here tonight that it was always an illusion. He never loved me. It was always about the money. He knew Papa would never have approved the marriage. I suppose that when he seduced me he thought that if he got me pregnant or he could prove I was damaged goods, Papa would compel us to marry and his future as the son my father never had—Papa’s heir—would be assured.’ Her voice cracked and she looked away. ‘What a gullible fool he must have thought me.’

  No more than a foot separated them, yet to Caleb it felt like a chasm. He clenched his fingers, wishing he had done more than break Barnwell’s nose. The man had used an innocent seventeen-year-old girl with cold-blooded calculation. He stretched out a hand and touched her fingers.

  ‘Adelaide …’

  She looked up, eyes brimming with unshed tears, and her fingers tightened on his. He gave her a gentle tug and, to his surprise, she came to him without resistance, curling against him, her head on his chest. He held her close, her heart beating next to his, his lips on her hair.

  Words seemed clumsy and intrusive. Instead, he stroked her cheek and kissed her hair, the scent of rosemary and lavender reminding him of his mother’s herb garden in faraway and long forgotten Virginia.

  He prayed the moment would never end.

  But she gave a shuddering sigh and stiffened. Reluctantly, he let her go and she pushed away from him, running her hands down her face.

  ‘I must look a fright,’ she said with a laugh that sounded forced.

  ‘You do, but—’ He stopped himself. There were three words he had not said to any woman before and he could not say them now. To say ‘I love you’ would change everything.

  ‘Thank you for your concern, Caleb,’ she said. ‘I will be fine in the morning. It is best to find these things out. Imagine if …’

  Imagine if she had found out the truth after she had married Barnwell?

  ‘I am grateful to you for showing me that letter,’ she added.

  ‘It is Sissy you have to thank, not me,’ Caleb said and regretted his words as her eyes widened.

  ‘Sissy? How did she …?’ Realisation dawned and the colour faded from her face. ‘He—he availed himself?’

  Caleb did not reply. He could not bring himself to tell her that Barnwell had abused Sissy in more ways than one. That would be a truth too many.

  Adelaide put out a hand to the mantelpiece. ‘I wish he were dead,’ she said with such vehemence, Caleb drew a breath.

  ‘I broke his nose,’ he said.

  A smile caught at the corner of Adelaide’s mouth. ‘Did you? I’m glad. I hope it hurts.’

  Caleb glanced down at his own skinned knuckles. ‘If he wants a doctor, he will be out of luck.’

  She looked at him. ‘Why are you here, Caleb?’

  ‘I was worried he might come here. He was in a terrible rage.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. He had already said all he needed to say to me for now, but what can I do if he chooses to stay in Maiden’s Creek? He threatened to destroy me, Caleb. Worse, he threatened to take Danny from me. He’s Danny’s father. He has the right …’ Her voice shook and for a long moment, she fought back the tears that threatened again.

  He shook his head. ‘I suggest you go to bed and try to sleep. We can talk in the morning, Adelaide.’

  She took a shuddering breath. ‘If I can in this heat.’

  ‘I can stay …’ he began and indicated the day bed.

  She shook her head. ‘Go home. I will be fine.’

  She opened the door but Caleb drew her to him. This time he kissed her, their lips meeting softly as he avoided the nasty cut.

  He closed his eyes, drinking in the taste of her, wanting more than anything to hold her like this forever, but, knowing the night had eyes, he let her go and she closed the door behind him, plunging him into darkness once more.

  Thirty-Two

  15 February 1872

  Something had changed. Something that had caused Danny’s mother to stop laughing. She had a nasty cut on her lip. When he asked her about it, she told him she had tripped over one of the hens in the yard.

  Mama hardly ate her breakfast then walked him to school, leaving him at the gate with a vehement hug and a kiss, something she never did, not when people could see.

  All through the long, boring day, Danny stared out the window to where the northerly wind tossed the peppercorn tree in the schoolyard. The wind had made everyone tetchy and tempers crackled in the playground. He dragged his feet on the way home, glancing at the Britannia, but the surgery door was shut and there was a CLOSED sign in the window. He climbed the hill to the doctor’s cottage to pour out his troubles to Caleb, but the girl who kept for Caleb told him that the doctor had gone down to the Italian settlement and she didn’t expect him back until late.

  Danny stumbled down the path and sat on a low wall, reluctant to go home.

  ‘Good afternoon, Daniel.’

  A shadow fell across him and he looked up to see Uncle Richard smiling down at him.

  ‘Can I sit down, Daniel?’

  Danny moved over and the man sat down beside him and fanned himself with his hat.

  ‘It just seems to get hotter and hotter,’ he said.

  Danny shrugged. ‘It will change,’ he said. His nose twitched. ‘But there’s a fire somewhere.’

  The man scanned the valley. ‘I thought I smelled burning. Is it dangerous?’

  ‘Depends where it is,’ Danny said. ‘There’s not much vegetation around here so I don’t think so. What happened to your nose?’

  Uncle Richard touched his bruised and swollen nose and frowned. ‘I ran into a door,’ he said, adding, ‘in the dark.’ His swollen nose seemed to affect his speech. He sounded like he had a bad cold. ‘Daniel, I have to leave Maiden’s Creek soon but I was wondering if you and I could go on an adventure together?’

  ‘An adventure?’

  ‘Yes, a real adventure. I have a map—’ Uncle Richard patted his pocket, ‘—which shows us where the bushranger keeps his gold.’

  Danny drew a quick breath. He’d heard people saying that there was a bushranger in the area.

  ‘How did you get a map?’ he asked.

  Uncle Richard tapped his nose and winced. ‘A chap in the hotel last night. Said he’d been part of the bushranger’s gang.’

  ‘But bushrangers are dangerous. He’d shoot us if he finds out we know where his gold is hidden,’ Danny said.

  ‘This chap said he’s not around at the moment. He’s gone to visit his sick mother in Melbourne.’

  It had never occurred to Danny that bushrangers may have sick mothers. ‘So he’s not a really bad bushranger.’

  ‘Oh no. He’s a bit like Robin Hood. He gives everything away to people who need it. So I think we will be quite safe, but this is very, very secret. You can’t tell anyone.’

  ‘Not even Mama?’

  ‘Not even Mama or Netty,’ Uncle Richard said.

  ‘When are we going to go?’

  ‘I have a few things to do this evening, but I thought if we set out bright and early tomorrow, we can be home for tea.’

  ‘But I have to go to school,’ Danny protested.

  Uncle Richard leaned in. ‘You can pretend to go to school. I’ll meet you on the Aberfeldy Road. Just north of the market garden, there’s a stand of trees. I’ll be there with a couple of horses for us. You can ride?’

  ‘Yes, Caleb taught me.’

  Uncle Richard smiled, but his eyes didn’t look like they were smiling. ‘That’s good to hear,’ he said. ‘I will see you tomorrow.’

  Danny nodded and slipped off the wall. He’d never done anything wantonly naughty before and now he was contemplating keeping a secret from Mama and skipping school.

  ‘What do we do if we find the gold?’ he asked.

  ‘We wo
uld have to be honest and give it to the police,’ Uncle Richard said. ‘But there’s a big reward and we can split it between us. You can buy your mama a lovely present.’ He clapped a hand on Danny’s shoulder and put the other one to his lips. ‘But just remember it’s our secret.’

  The emergency at the Italian settlement had taken Caleb out of town at first light and it had gone dark by the time Caleb rode back into town in the soft evening light.

  At the livery stable, Sones took Shadow from him. ‘You look done in,’ the stableman remarked. ‘How’s the lass?’

  ‘She’s a fighter,’ Caleb said. He had decided nothing in this world was worse than watching a two-year-old child in pain and having limited means to ameliorate it.

  Sones pulled the saddle from Shadow’s back. ‘There’s a bad fire developing north of us,’ he said. ‘Maidment came back from Melbourne this morning and went straight out to see how far it’s got and if we’re going to be in its path. Reckon it’s tracking the ridges down the Aberfeldy Road. Could catch Blue Sailor.’

  ‘What about Pretty Sally?’

  ‘That’s to the east—no threat there. Just saying, doc, you may be needed if we’ve got to send men out to fight it back from the settlements. Hope your little lass can manage without you.’

  Caleb thanked the man and dragged his weary feet back to the cottage. Posy had long since left, leaving a plate of cold mutton on the table covered with a cloth. He poured himself a beer and sat down to eat. He’d barely pushed the plate to one side when a loud rapping at the door made him start.

  ‘Dr Hunt!’ The unmistakable voice of the law.

  He sighed, rose to his feet and answered the door. A quick glance at the blue serge uniform and he reached for his medical bag. The policeman stepped into the room and Caleb recognised him as Constable O’Grady, a big solid man with a large moustache.

  ‘Where’s the patient, Constable?’

  O’Grady frowned. ‘Patient?’

  ‘You’ve come to fetch me to an emergency?’

  O’Grady cleared his throat, trying but failing to put on an authoritative cast to his genial face and tone. ‘I am here to arrest you for the unprovoked assault on one Richard Barnwell at a hostelry known as Lil’s Place, during which said gentleman sustained serious injuries.’

  ‘What?’ Caleb stared at him. ‘Arrest me?’

  Not a night went past in Maiden’s Creek without there being some sort of fracas at one of the many hostelries. The three policemen would be fully occupied just keeping up to date with the paperwork if every single assault ended in a complaint.

  ‘That’s right. Mr Barnwell has lodged a complaint. Do you deny you hit him?’

  ‘It wasn’t unprovoked,’ Caleb protested. ‘He assaulted a lady.’

  O’Grady’s lips curled. ‘You mean one of the whores? If that’s your defence, you can tell that to the JP. All I know is that a complaint has been made and I’m here to arrest you.’

  ‘I want to speak to your sergeant,’ Caleb said, drawing himself up to his full height. Even then he barely looked the big constable in the eye.

  ‘Sergeant Maidment and Constable Prewitt are out of town,’ O’Grady said, adding with a note of pride in his tone, ‘I’m in charge and you’re coming with me.’

  ‘I have patients …’ Caleb began but the set of the man’s jaw and the way his hand moved to the butt of the service issue revolver he wore on his belt convinced him further discussion was pointless.

  He shut and locked his door. O’Grady rattled his manacles and Caleb glared at him.

  ‘Try to put those on me, O’Grady, and you can add assaulting an officer of the law to your charge sheet. I’ll come peaceably.’

  O’Grady mumbled something and hooked the manacles back on his belt.

  Caleb had never been past the main offices in the police station but now he marched down a narrow corridor to the back of the building where the two small cells barred with iron gates had been cut into the hillside.

  He stiffened and rounded on the constable. ‘No. I’ll give you my word, I won’t go anywhere, but don’t lock me up in there.’

  For answer, O’Grady shoved him in the back and he stumbled into the dark, clammy cell, hitting the low bench that had been cut into the rock on the far side of the room. He fell to his knees and the heavy gate slammed behind him.

  ‘You’ll have some company shortly,’ O’Grady said as the outer door shut behind him.

  Pain, shame and guilt rose like nausea. Caleb closed his eyes and balled his hands, pressing them against his face as he tried to block out the memory of the solitary confinement cells at Elmira.

  The only light in the cell came from a lantern that stood on the table in the narrow outer room beyond the cells and shadows danced and played across the rough walls. Caleb lay down on the rock shelf that passed for a bed and covered his eyes with his forearm, trying to ignore the walls closing in around him. He could almost smell the blood—and worse—mingling with sweat and the scent of unwashed bodies and fear. Hundreds of Confederate prisoners of war crammed together in the foetid conditions of Elmira. No hope … nothing, except a daily fight for survival.

  He steadied his breath. He should have anticipated that Barnwell would do something like this. He would be one of those obnoxious prigs who believed in authority to solve his problems. The town lacked a lawyer. The only hope Caleb had was the common sense of one of the JPs or that Maidment would return from his reconnaissance of the fire. With luck, he would be freed in the morning. Until then there appeared to be nothing he could do except wait.

  A coarse blanket and a straw mattress had been provided to soften the bench and he made himself as comfortable as he could, stretching out with his hands behind his head while he considered the situation.

  He closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep.

  At supper, Danny picked at his food and answered Adelaide’s questions with monosyllabic grunts. He hadn’t asked her about Richard Barnwell’s sudden absence from their table and she didn’t raise the subject. She had tried to convince herself that Richard would see sense and leave Maiden’s Creek and she would go back to being the widow Greaves and everything would be as it was.

  Except it never could be.

  Danny took himself off to bed after supper, shutting the door behind him, and the two women settled down to mending. The hot night made the task difficult and Adelaide abandoned her efforts. They sat in companionable silence, Adelaide with a book and Netty with one of Danny’s stockings.

  They both started at the squeak of the gate and sound of heavy boots on the gravel path.

  Netty set down her sewing. ‘Late for a visitor,’ she said.

  Adelaide stood up, her heart pounding. What if it was Richard?

  She did not open the door at the first loud rap.

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked through the wood.

  ‘Constable O’Grady.’

  Adelaide unbolted the door, revealing the burly constable on the doorstep. The man pulled his cap off and twisted it in his large, hairy hands.

  ‘Beg pardon, Mrs Greaves,’ he began after much clearing of his throat. ‘Is Miss Redley at home?’

  Adelaide blinked. ‘Netty? Yes, of course. What do you want with her?’

  ‘Can you fetch her please?’

  ‘I’m right here,’ Netty said. ‘What do you want, O’Grady?’

  O’Grady took a deep breath. ‘Miss Redley, I am here to arrest you.’

  Adelaide stepped in front of her maid. ‘Arrest her? Whatever for?’

  The constable had the good grace to look unhappy, his eyes sliding sideways. ‘I have information that Miss Redley stole a quantity of jewellery from her last employer.’ O’Grady pulled a notebook from his pocket and leafed through a couple of pages. ‘One Sir Daniel Lewis of Oldfield House in Liverpool.’

  Despite the heat, a cold hand clutched at Adelaide’s heart. ‘What do you mean? Who’s laid the charge?’

  ‘Mr Barnwell,’ O’Grady replied. ‘He ha
s a sworn statement given by the late Sir Daniel Lewis, attesting to the fact that Miss Redley left her employment without giving notice and after her departure, it was discovered that certain items of jewellery, the property of his late wife, were missing.’

  Netty and Adelaide exchanged glances.

  ‘That’s it?’ Adelaide said.

  The man shook his head. ‘No. He has a statement from a jeweller in York that Miss Redley sold a ring and bracelet to him, matching the description of two of the missing pieces of jewellery.’

  Adelaide drew herself up to her full height. ‘Where are these statements?’

  The constable shifted from foot to foot. ‘At the police station, ma’am. They’re evidence.’

  ‘I want to speak with Sergeant Maidment,’ Adelaide demanded.

  ‘He’s out bush tonight,’ the unhappy policeman replied.

  ‘This is ridiculous. You don’t need to arrest Netty. We can resolve this when Sergeant Maidment returns,’ Adelaide said.

  ‘Beg pardon, ma’am, but I do. There’ll be hell to pay if Miss Redley were to abscond.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Netty said. ‘It’s far too late at night to abscond, and where would I go?’

  ‘That’s as may be,’ O’Grady said. ‘Are you coming peaceably or do I have to snap these on you?’ To emphasise his point, the constable held out a pair of manacles.

  Netty recoiled, putting her hands behind her back.

  Adelaide started forward but Netty grabbed her arm and thrust her behind her.

  ‘Don’t say a word. I better go with this stupid man.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry about this, but I have to do my duty and the gent what laid the charges was most insistent that I detain the thief.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘He also laid charges of assault against Dr Hunt. I’ve had no choice but to bring him too. Didn’t like doing that either, but duty is duty.’

  The blood drained from Adelaide’s heart. She could see exactly what Richard was doing. He was punishing the people around her.

  Netty raised her chin. ‘You can take me, O’Grady, but you aren’t putting those things on me. I have my pride.’ With that she marched out, with O’Grady scurrying after her.