Shadows in the Valley

by Elizabeth Haran

  “Just a little accident,” Heath said evasively.

  They began walking on the path that wound between lawn, trees, and shrubs, towards a seat and bench in the shade of a blue gum tree.

  Heath said nothing, so Abbey spoke first.

  “You’ve had an autopsy done on your father, and you are here to give me the results,” she said directly. Despite how nervous she felt, she was determined to face this head-on. It was the only way to get any peace of mind.

  Heath was startled yet again. This time it wasn’t by her beauty. “How did you know?” he asked, thinking it was refreshing to meet a young woman who was so direct. He wondered if it was an attribute that his father was drawn to, along with her other obvious qualities.

  “I had hoped you would have one done, and you did mention that you might,” Abbey said.

  “Oh,” Heath now felt foolish for ever thinking she had killed his father. Not only did the autopsy results prove she was innocent, but she’d hardly want an autopsy done if she were guilty of something criminal. That did not exonerate her from knowing about the content of his father’s will, however. She may have planned to stay married to him for as long as it took to inherit his estate, meanwhile enjoying a lavish lifestyle with a rich husband. “I did request an autopsy, as my father wasn’t very old. He apparently died from heart failure.”

  Abbey inwardly sighed with relief. She knew the results must have also given Heath some peace of mind. “Did he have a bad heart?”

  “Apparently he did,” Heath said, searching her features for any hint that she might have known.

  “Didn’t you know about it?” Abbey asked, startled to think he wouldn’t.

  “Dr. Mead mentioned it in passing some time ago, but my father never discussed it with me. I see that astonishes you, but given our volatile history, it wasn’t surprising.”

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” Abbey said. She had disliked Ebenezer Mason, but he had still been this man’s father.

  “It is I who owes you an apology for my rudeness and hostility,” Heath said as they reached the garden bench. He gestured for her to sit down, which she did.

  “No, you don’t,” Abbey said, a little perplexed that he’d offer her an apology. “I understand that you were upset. When my father was killed in the mine, I vented my anger against your father. He claimed the flooded mineshaft was a tragic accident, but I wouldn’t hear it. I still don’t believe that he maintained the mine properly, which led to my father, Neal Tavis, and Jock McManus dying unnecessarily.” Her eyes sparkled with emotion.

  Heath knew what a miser his father had been when it came to the mine, so he had no doubt that the accident was at least in part, a large part, his father’s fault. “I hope you’ll forgive my rudeness, nevertheless.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” Abbey said, and she meant it. “I’m just relieved that you understand that I had nothing to do with your father’s death.”

  “You are most gracious, and I do,” Heath said.

  “I hope you also believe that finding out I was married to your father was as much a shock to me as it was to you. I’m sorry he died, but I’m not sorry that I’m no longer his wife.”

  Heath wasn’t so sure he believed this part of her story. He was desperate to ask whether she’d also give up any entitlements that came with being his father’s wife, but he dared not arouse her suspicions. “I do, now,” he said, masking his true feelings. “Perhaps, as a way of showing my gratitude for your understanding, you’ll allow me to take you to tea.”

  Abbey was flabbergasted by the suggestion. “I don’t know,” she murmured. Her thoughts were racing. A social invitation from him was the last thing she’d been expecting. Her heart was beating faster than it ever had before, and she had no idea how to respond.

  “I’m sorry,” Heath said, feigning mortification. “That is too much to expect.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Abbey rushed to say. She was confused, but flattered. “I’m employed here as Mrs. Hawker’s companion, and no one has said that I have free time to myself.”

  “Surely you must have. No employee has to work every hour of every day. That would not be ethical.”

  He was right, Abbey thought, but she didn’t want to upset Jack. He’d been very good to her.

  “I have an idea,” Heath said, glancing admiringly at the beautiful surroundings. “We could have a picnic here, in the gardens. Perhaps tomorrow. It’s Sunday. Surely no one would object.” He needed to get to know the real Miss Scottsdale. That meant spending time with her.

  Abbey was taken aback by the suggestion, but the idea of a picnic appealed to her. She felt a little hesitant, however. He was Ebenezer Mason’s son. But she reasoned that she couldn’t hold him responsible for his father’s sins. That wouldn’t be right.

  “I can’t see that Mr. Hawker or his mother would object,” she found herself saying. “It’s such a long way for you to come, though,” she added.

  “It’s not that far, and I don’t mind,” Heath said, standing to leave. He prayed it would all be worth it. “Until tomorrow, then. I’ll bring the picnic basket at around one o’clock, if that suits you.”

  “That’s perfect,” Abbey said, also standing.

  Heath put on his hat and, smiling, bid her good afternoon. He then headed for his carriage. Abbey remained in the shade under the tree for a while, digesting what had just happened. She didn’t know what to think. The idea of having a picnic with a handsome man was appealing—but Heath Mason? She wondered how Jack would react.

  ***

  Pondering on this unexpected turn of events, Abbey began walking towards the house. She was just about to reach the door when Jack came around the side of the house with Frank Fox, the gardener. He gave Frank some instructions and then turned towards the front veranda.

  “Abbey,” he said cheerfully when he saw her. “Have you been out for a walk?”

  “Yes,” Abbey hesitated. “Actually, Heath Mason was just here, and we talked in the garden.”

  Jack was immediately alarmed. “I hope he didn’t upset you again.”

  “No,” Abbey rushed to reassure him. “He was very polite.”

  “Then what did he want?”

  “He had an autopsy done on his father, and it seems that he died from heart failure.”

  “Oh! Well, that’s good,” Jack said.

  Abbey’s eyes widened.

  “I didn’t mean … It’s not good that he died of heart failure,” Jack said quickly, “but that Mr. Mason now knows that you had nothing to do with his father’s death. I hope he apologised for upsetting you the way he did.”

  “He did, but I understood that he was in shock and wanted answers. I’ve been in that place, so I can sympathise with his frustration.” Thinking about her father made Abbey emotional for a moment. “Actually, Mr. Mason will be back tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Back?! What for?”

  “He’s bringing a picnic basket.”

  Jack looked confused. “A picnic basket?”

  “He wants to have a picnic with me in the gardens,” Abbey explained. “That is, if you don’t mind,” she hastily added.

  Jack’s mouth fell open, and he stared at Abbey for a few moments in silence. “No, I, um, don’t think so,” he finally said.

  Abbey wasn’t sure what to make of his reaction. “Do you think Mrs. Hawker will mind?” she asked.

  “Why should she?”

  “I should be spending my time with her.”

  “Sundays are your free day, Abbey. I should have told you that. We usually attend Mass at St. Michael’s at eight o’clock, but you don’t have to.”

  “I promised Father Quinlan that I would go,” Abbey said.

  Jack nodded and looked thoughtful.

  “Is there anything else?” Abbey asked. She could see there wa
s something else on his mind.

  “Actually, yes, Abbey,” Jack hesitated. “Did you ever have that talk with my mother, about … ?” Jack didn’t quite know how to word it, but Abbey understood.

  “No, not yet,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the ground.

  “Well, perhaps you should,” Jack said. He thought it wise, especially if Heath were going to be seeking her company.

  ***

  Abbey changed into her old gown and then helped Elsa and Marie feed the dogs. She didn’t have to, but she liked spending time with the dogs, and Max was taking to her.

  Meanwhile, Jack had a cup of tea with his mother in the living room. It wasn’t long before she noticed that he seemed distracted.

  “What’s wrong, son?” she asked, when he kept staring out of the living room window.

  “Nothing,” Jack replied absently. He couldn’t stop thinking about Heath Mason and what his motives were.

  “Nothing, indeed,” Sybil said thoughtfully. “Then, why is the garden suddenly so interesting?”

  “Did Abbey tell you that Heath Mason came here today?” Jack asked.

  “No, but I haven’t spoken to her since I had a nap after lunch. What did he want?”

  “She claims he came here to tell her that an autopsy proved that his father died from heart failure.”

  “I’m sure Abbey is pleased that she is no longer under suspicion for anything more sinister,” Sybil said.

  “Yes, but Mr. Mason is returning tomorrow to have a picnic with her in the gardens. What do you suppose that is all about?”

  Sybil contemplated the idea. “It’s a bit of an about-face, but I suppose he feels guilty for his behaviour,” she finally said.

  “Do you think that is all there is to it?”

  Sybil could see that Jack was concerned. “He probably finds her attractive. His father obviously did.”

  “Mother!”

  “She was his father’s wife,” Sybil pointed out.

  Jack thought it was deplorable that Ebenezer Mason had taken advantage of a young, innocent girl. “Perhaps legally, but not by choice.”

  “Maybe not, but from what I’ve heard about Ebenezer Mason, he was a lecherous old sod. You don’t think his son takes after him, do you?”

  “I should hope not,” Jack said vehemently, his initial concerns coming to the fore again. He couldn’t help wondering if Heath was up to something, but what?

  “Abbey is a very pretty girl,” Sybil added. “Unfortunately, she’s also very young and naïve. Look how easily she fell into the late Mr. Mason’s trap. She must have a sturdy backbone to go through so much and still be standing on her own two feet.”

  Jack had to agree, but he still felt very protective of her.

  At dinner that evening, which was a light pastry filled with spicy vegetables and served with a garden salad, Sybil broached the subject of Heath Mason.

  “Jack tells me that Heath Mason was here today, Abbey,” she said.

  “Yes, he came to tell me the results of his father’s autopsy. That was kind of him, wasn’t it?”

  “Indeed,” Sybil said, wondering if the handsome young man had turned her head. “I just hope he’s nothing like his father, Abbey,” she added.

  Abbey seemed shocked by her candid comment. “I hope so, too,” she said, “but he doesn’t appear to be.”

  “Just remember, an apple never falls far from the tree,” Sybil warned. “My mother always told me that, and I’ve often found it to be true.”

  Jack could see by Abbey’s expression that she was slightly alarmed. He didn’t like to see her upset, but he did want her to be careful and to see Heath for the man he was, and not the prince she might like him to be.

  “Would you like to take a look around Bungaree on horseback tomorrow morning after church, Abbey?” he asked.

  “Yes, that would be lovely,” she said, delighted.

  ***

  In the early evening, Jack went to check on the lambs, which left Abbey and Sybil alone in the living room.

  “May I talk to you about something quite personal, Mrs. Hawker?” Abbey asked in a small voice.

  Sybil was intrigued. “Yes, of course. Would you like to do it here, or should we go upstairs so that we’re not overheard?”

  “Upstairs would be better,” Abbey said. She wouldn’t like Elsa, Marie, or, especially, Sabu to overhear their conversation, and they were all still busy inside the house. “Perhaps we could sit on the balcony.”

  Once the two women were settled on the balcony, Sybil waited for Abbey to speak. Unfortunately, Abbey didn’t know where to start. It was not going to be an easy conversation to have.

  “Well, Abbey, what is it you wanted to speak to me about?” Sybil asked, becoming impatient. She’d had a few moments to think about what it might be, and she had an idea. She didn’t think it was the young Mr. Mason. “Is it about your marriage to Ebenezer Mason?” she said gently.

  Abbey blushed and couldn’t look at her. Sybil knew she was near to the heart of the matter. She could see the girl looked uncomfortable, and she pitied her.

  “Are you concerned that you might be with child?” Sybil asked softly. She could well imagine what a horrific idea that would be to Abbey, or to any woman.

  Abbey nodded, fighting tears. “I don’t know if he …” She looked down at her hands, clutching them tightly into fists in her lap.

  “Are you trying to say that you don’t know whether you … engaged in amorous congress?”

  Abbey’s head snapped up. “He may have taken my virtue, but I don’t believe I engaged in anything,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

  “No, dear,” Sybil said, understanding. “I was just trying to think of a delicate way to put it.”

  “To answer your question,” Abbey said. “I don’t know exactly what happened, and that worries me. I wanted to ask you how I would know for sure if I no longer had my virtue?”

  Sybil thought about how she should answer. “Was there any blood on the sheets or on whatever you were wearing?” she asked. Sybil didn’t want to suggest she might have been naked.

  “I don’t think so,” Abbey said, trying to remember. She had been wearing a nightdress, but she didn’t want to think about who had undressed her and put it on her. The thought of Ebenezer Mason doing it was too repulsive to contemplate. “I had a horrible headache the next morning. In fact my whole body ached.”

  “Oh, dear.” Sybil sighed. “It would be normal to experience some strange discomfort, had he lain with you. But perhaps it’s possible that he died before. . .” she trailed off.

  Abbey closed her eyes and sighed deeply with relief. “I pray that is true,” she eventually said.

  “So do I, Abbey,” Sybil said. “But you might never know the truth. It’s best you try to put it out of your mind.”

  “I have tried,” Abbey said. “But it’s so hard. I believe Mr. Mason may have drugged the wine he gave me. It’s the only logical conclusion I can come to.”

  Such a scandalous act would not have occurred to Abbey, except that it had happened to one of the girls on Creek Street. She’d been employed at one of the bakeries in town and had to be at the shop at four in the morning when the baker started baking the bread. He’d given her a drink laced with an opiate and then had forced himself on her. She hadn’t known exactly what had happened until she found herself with child. The only person she had confided in was Abbey, who suggested she confront him. This she did, and he didn’t deny the truth. The young woman had left Burra in shame and was never heard of again. “I don’t believe it’s likely that I blacked out after taking just a few sips of wine from a glass,” Abbey said.

  Sybil reached out and touched Abbey’s hand. “You poor girl,” she said angrily. “That man was a bastard.”

  Abbey’s eyes widened.

  Syb
il realizsd what had come out of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t usually use such language. But to do something so shocking to a young, innocent girl, well, there’s only one word that would describe a man like that.”

  CHAPTER 13

  On Sunday morning, Abbey walked with Jack and his mother to St. Michael’s Church. Elsa and Marie had gone home the previous evening and wouldn’t be returning until later that day. Sabu, of course, did not attend a local church. He prayed several times a day in the hayshed. He also didn’t cook on Sundays because it was his day off. That meant Sybil, Jack, and Abbey had to fend for themselves.

  Jack had surprised Abbey earlier that morning when she came downstairs to find him cooking bacon and eggs for breakfast. He said he did it every Sunday morning.

  “It’s a Jack Hawker tradition that is not to be broken,” he told her in a mock stern voice when she said she didn’t mind preparing breakfast.

  “But I’d enjoy helping,” Abbey said persistently. “Please let me do something.”

  “Fine, if you insist,” Jack said, finding it hard to refuse her. “I have the bacon and eggs under control, but you can set the table and make the tea.”

  “I’d be happy to,” Abbey said, just as Sybil came downstairs. She shook her head when she saw the two of them busy in the kitchen. “Isn’t this a scene of domesticity?” she gently mocked as she sat at the table and helped herself to a glass of freshly squeezed juice from their own orange tree.

  Glancing at each other, Abbey and Jack smiled.

  ***

  Abbey and the Hawkers were greeted at the church door by Father Quinlan, who clasped their hands in his to warmly welcome them. Abbey thought she caught the faint smell of liquor on his breath, which was a shock to her, given that it was so early in the day. Sybil glared at him disapprovingly when he greeted her, so Abbey knew she’d smelt it, too.

  Once inside, the number of people already seated took Abbey aback. There were many faces she had not seen before, but as they walked toward the front of the church, she recognised Doris Hubert and presumed that the man sitting alongside her was her husband. Sitting nearby was the blacksmith, Ben Dobson, and his son, Michael. Elias Morton was there, and alongside him were Wilbur and Ernie, the stockmen she’d met. Abbey was quite surprised to see them in church, but could imagine Father Quinlan using the same subtle form of persuasion that he’d used on her to get them to attend.