‘Eventually, yes. Once we realized how much of the misunderstanding was due to Charles’s meddling.’ She looked Mary squarely in the eye and briefly outlined their plans. ‘Since there’s no hope of obtaining my parents’ blessing I hope you and James will give us yours.’
‘Oh, Louise.’ Mary seemed at a loss for words. ‘This seems hasty, after two years apart.’
‘We bided our time before and gave Charles the opportunity to separate us. Lloyd doesn’t want to risk that happening again.’
‘I know there’s no love lost between you and your parents, but there is love for you here, my dear! You don’t need to betray your class to find it. This Kavanagh...the name’s Irish. Is he a Catholic?’
‘Yes, he is. Not that it matters.’
‘It does matter, I’m afraid. Mixed marriages cause all sorts of problems. And what will Charles think if we condone your relationship with a man he’s tried so hard to separate you from?’
Louise bristled. ‘After the unscrupulous, domineering way Charles treated us, I really don’t care! Besides, he can’t blame you. I shall write to them all once we’re safely married.’
Mary looked horrified. ‘Don’t you intend to tell them first? You owe them that much courtesy.’
‘No.’ Louise was adamant. ‘Papa is too far away to stop us, but I shan’t risk interference from Charles! I won’t have him told while there’s a chance of him trying to prevent the wedding.’
Mary twisted her hands together in her lap, obviously distressed. ‘I shall see what James has to say. If he thinks he should write to Charles I shan’t dissuade him.’
‘Not Charles, I beg of you.’ Louise jumped up and paced to the edge of the veranda, her heart racing. ‘He would be sure to come here and cause trouble. He’s a devil–you don’t know what he’s like.’
‘I do know that no-one could have tried harder than he to find you when you ran away from here. You’d better talk to James.’
But James was even less receptive than his wife to the proposed marriage.
‘Why, Louise? You’ve lived without him for two years and you seemed happy enough before this.’
‘I may have appeared happy to you, Cousin James, but you haven’t seen the tears I’ve shed in private.’
‘Louise, your father is squire of Fenham Manor. You have both looks and character. You could have your pick of the eligible men in this area, young men of good family. Why throw yourself away on a struggling selector like Kavanagh?’
‘Because, as I said to Cousin Mary, I love him. Besides, I wouldn’t describe him as struggling. He owns a good-sized property on the Dawson.’
James waved his hand dismissively. ‘I’ve been talking to Weatherby this morning. True, he does own a good property, but his father was a drunkard and his brothers and sisters don’t sound any better.’
Louise paused and drew a deep breath. ‘Lloyd can’t be held responsible for his family.’ Perhaps there was only one way to convince him. ‘You won’t dissuade me, Cousin James. It so happens that he’s the only man whom I have any right to expect to marry me.’ There, it was said now and she couldn’t be sorry, in spite of James’s narrowed, measuring gaze on her. ‘Lloyd is waiting to speak with you and I ask you please to invite him in and treat him with courtesy. This is Australia, after all, not England.’
James smiled thinly. ‘I never thought to hear an Ashford speak for class equality. But don’t worry, Louise. I have no intention of showing him the door. It seems it’s too late for that. Unless I misunderstand you it sounds as if your morals are no better than the rest of the Ashfords. And Kavanagh’s aren’t so different from his family’s, after all.’
Coming from the usually mild-mannered James, it was a pungent criticism. ‘I make no excuses for myself, Cousin James. But I do know that Lloyd’s morals are a good deal better than those of many supposed “gentlemen”.’
‘That doesn’t say much. We may be out of touch with things here, but I do know the Prince of Wales set has all of England scandalised.’
‘Needless to say Lloyd doesn’t have the money or the time to waste on their sort of frivolity.’
‘No, I don’t imagine so. Weatherby says he’s a hard worker. There’ll be plenty of hard work in it for you, too, my girl.’
She shrugged. ‘Cousin James, I experienced the lifestyle while I was working for the Jamiesons and I adjusted well to it. Idleness isn’t all it’s supposed to be.’
‘I agree with you wholeheartedly on that score.’ James rose to his feet with a weary sigh. ‘I’ll be civil to Kavanagh. If your mind’s made up there’s no point in being anything else.’
She found Lloyd still sitting on the steps, smoking his pipe, but fidgeting restlessly. He looked up at her, his smile a little tense. ‘How did they take it?’
She shrugged. ‘Cousin James is waiting to have a private word with you.’
He paused at the top of the steps, looking down at her. ‘From your expression I gather they weren’t too happy.’
‘I won’t pretend they think you’re the ideal husband for me, but they’ll reconcile themselves to it once they become better acquainted with you. They are very kind people, you know.’
‘Yeah, so I’ve always heard.’
James appeared at the doorway then, greeting Lloyd civilly and inviting him into his study. Louise smiled encouragingly at Lloyd and lightly touched his hand, then left them to it.
~*~
Louise was flicking indifferently through a book when Lloyd rejoined her. She looked up anxiously as he sank down beside her on the sofa. ‘What did James say to you?’
His mouth twisted. ‘Why’d you let him guess what’d been going on between us?’
Her eyes dropped and she found herself looking at his moleskin-clad thigh, only an inch or two from hers on the sofa, and his bare brown forearm almost brushing hers. ‘There seemed no other way of convincing him not to oppose us.’
‘It didn’t impress him much. He doesn’t seem to think too much of me as it is.’
‘Nor of me. But perhaps he’ll decide we deserve each other.’
Lloyd grinned. ‘I think he’s already decided that.’
The chiming clock on the wall struck the hour and he jumped to his feet. ‘Crikey, look at the time! Weatherby was chomping at the bit–he’ll be packed and gone if I don’t get back soon.’ He pulled her up and into his arms. ‘Louise, I promise I’ll write as soon as I know what I’m doing.’ He looked down into her eyes, his hands at her waist pressing her close. ‘Are you happy?’
She nodded. ‘I can’t quite believe it, yet.’ She lifted her face in invitation, drinking in the familiar smell of horses and saddle leather that clung to him, her body thrilling to his touch. ‘Kiss me, Lloyd, so I know it’s real.’
It was like old times. They seemed to fit together as if they were made for each other and it was gratifying to sense the passion in him as strong as ever. Perhaps it would work for them, after all.
‘Oh, Louise, I used to try to stop myself thinking about this.’ His voice was tense with desire. ‘I’ve never felt like this with anyone else, ever.’
‘Have there been so many others?’
He moved back a little, looking down at her. ‘You’ve never asked me that before.’
‘I know, but...you shocked me a little yesterday. It made me realize there’s a lot I don’t know about you.’
‘There haven’t been so many and no-one at all since just after you left. Unless you count Mercy and don’t worry, I haven’t slept with her.’ He grinned down at her with a touch of his old mischievousness. ‘And I can tell you, two years is a long time.’
‘Oh, Lloyd. If James or Mary were to hear you...’ Blushing, she moved away from him and took a sealed envelope from the top of the piano. ‘Will you deliver this to Mrs Jamieson for me? I must write some explanation and apology to replace the letter they didn’t receive. I shall feel very awkward about meeting them again.’
She paused and eyed him anxiously.
The humour had disappeared from his face and he’d turned very pale. ‘What is it? What did I say?’
‘I won’t be giving any letters to Mrs Jamieson.’ His voice faltered. ‘She’s dead, Louise. She died having the baby–three months after you left.’
Louise stared at him in dismayed silence, wishing she could bite out her tongue. He’d turned away from her, trying to hide his grief in typical masculine fashion and she remembered how Mrs Jamieson had looked after him and cooked meals for him as if he were her own son.
‘Oh, Lloyd.’ Louise went to him and put her arms around him, pressing her face against the warm skin of his throat. Tears pricked at her eyes. ‘What a lot you’ve been through–life is so cruel! That poor family must be heartbroken. But what happened to the baby?’
‘She’s doing well. Mercy’s like a mother to her. Poor Mercy, she’s held that family together, doing her mother’s work and looking after the baby. God, I hate to hurt her, Louise.’
A shudder ran through him and he drew her closer, stroking her hair. As he bent his head to kiss her the sound of someone clearing his throat made them break apart. James was at the door, his eyes carefully averted.
‘Weatherby’s waiting outside, Kavanagh. You’d better go.’
Chapter Twenty-four
Back at Myvanwy Lloyd set to work to complete his house. So determined was he to finish it in the next two weeks that he didn’t spare the time to visit the Jamiesons, though he knew he must. He was on the roof one day fixing shingles when he saw Mercy ride up. His heart sank.
It wasn’t the first time Mercy had visited him like this. Her calls were ostensibly to view the progress on the house, which Lloyd suspected she hoped to share with him one day. He also knew her visits were made without her father’s knowledge, when she was supposed to be checking their own paddocks.
Lloyd had tried to persuade her against coming, for her visits worried him. He owed Jock too much to risk compromising his daughter and compromised she would be if she were discovered here alone with him.
It hadn’t been so bad before she enticed him into kissing her. Until he was ready to commit himself to marrying her, he’d hoped to avoid that. But she hadn’t made it easy for him.
Mercy had brought a billy of tea over to him one day when he was laying the slab floor of the house. She’d sat beside him on a log as they sipped the hot tea and ate slices of fresh-baked brownie, smuggled in her saddlebag. Watching him when she thought he wasn’t looking, she reached across him for a piece of brownie, allowing her breasts to brush against his arm. His body responded and he smiled grimly at her bent head as she nibbled the cake, but didn’t make the desired move. After a moment she looked up at him, her face flushed.
‘Lloyd, don’t you care for me at all?’
Her innocence made him feel very gentle and protective. ‘I care for you too much to treat you lightly, Mercy.’
‘You used to care for Miss Forrest and you slept in the saddle-room with her.’
‘Miss Ashford.’ His voice was suddenly harsh.
‘Miss Ashford, then. I don’t care what her name was; she was a liar and impostor. I hated her for what she did to you. You aren’t still in love with her, are you?’
He shook his head numbly. ‘You weren’t supposed to know she’d stayed with me that night. The last thing I wanted was to expose you lot to that.’
‘I got up to get a drink of water and saw her come out of there.’
‘Oh, Mercy. I’m sorry.’
She put her hand up and touched his hair. Her eyes were very tender. He bent his head to lightly brush her lips with his, and then attempted to draw back.
‘No,’ she breathed. ‘Kiss me properly... please, Lloyd.’
So he kissed her as thoroughly as she was begging for, until he felt his self-control ebbing. He wrenched away from her and stood up, angry with himself. The worst of it was, when his blood was running hot he hadn’t been thinking of Mercy at all. All he wanted was a female body to enjoy and comfort himself with and he knew she wouldn’t have stopped him, not from any lack of morality but out of her love for him and her eagerness to please.
‘Now you know why I didn’t want to kiss you,’ he said, trying to keep his voice level. ‘Your father trusts me and we shouldn’t be alone together like this.’
He knew this was the moment to ask her to marry him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. For even after all this time, in that moment of passion he’d found himself thinking of Louise.
He’d told her not to come again, but she’d done so. And inevitably he’d kissed her again. Mercy had grown up a lot in the past two years and she could be very tempting. He was terrified that one day he might lose control and he knew he would never be able to look Jock in the face afterwards. It wouldn’t matter if their act was undiscovered and even marrying her wouldn’t be enough to put things right. For he feared he wouldn’t take her with the gentleness and respect he owed her, but with the unresolved anger he still felt towards Louise.
She would make him an easy, comfortable wife and her presence here would put an end to the loneliness and frustration he presently endured. He wouldn’t remain a bachelor for the rest of his life because the one girl he’d wanted had treated him badly. Yet it would hardly be fair to Mercy unless he was sure he loved her. So he kept putting it off, telling himself he’d ask her once the house was finished and everything was in order.
~*~
Now, as he set down his hammer and stepped across the roof to the waiting ladder, the only comforting thought in his mind was the blessed relief that he hadn’t become engaged to her. For it was going to be bad enough, by all accounts.
Mercy sat her horse, smiling down at him as he approached. She held out her hands to him and unhooked her leg from the saddle-horn, sliding down into his arms. She lifted up her face to his, expecting to be kissed, but he stepped back, releasing her abruptly.
Her smile disappeared and she looked up at him with an anxious expression. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I have some news for you, Mercy.’ He took off his hat and fiddled with it, unsure how to tell her. ‘I’m sorry about this and I hate hurting you, but I can’t change the way things are.’
She’d gone deathly pale as she stared at him. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong, really. I just met someone I didn’t expect to see the other day, when I was at James Barclay’s. Your ex-governess, Louise Ashford.’ Noticing her eyes widening with shock and disbelief, he added slowly, ‘It’s not so surprising. She’s their cousin, you know.’
‘What of it?’ Mercy’s voice trembled slightly. ‘Of what interest is it to me if you did meet her?’
‘Mercy, I’m going to marry her.’
For a moment, there was deathly silence. Then she uttered a sharp cry of pure protest.
‘Heavens, Lloyd, you can’t mean that. She deceived you and led you a merry dance last time and then left you flat.’ She stared at him in pleading silence and he looked down at his hat, saying nothing. At last she let out a little sob of despair. ‘So she’s got her hooks into you again. Oh, be blowed to the pair of you. I hate you both!’
She swung away, bursting into tears and he watched her helplessly, painfully, wishing there was something he could do. But there was nothing. He’d known it would be like this. His and Louise’s happiness at the expense of hers.
‘Mercy, don’t take it so hard,’ he said at last. ‘I’m not worth it. I can’t help the way I feel about Louise and I found out I’ve been wrong about her all this time. You see, her brother forced her to go with him and he pinched the letters she wrote to us. She suffered more at the separation than I did.’
Mercy turned back to him, a strange expression crossing her face–whether it was guilt or something else he couldn’t be sure. Suddenly a suspicion came to him. ‘You knew Louise didn’t want to go.’
Mercy faltered, brushing at her tears with the back of her hand. ‘Well, yes, she was upset when her brother took her a
way. I could have told you that, I suppose, but we’ve never discussed her.’
Lloyd made no response. It was true–they had never discussed Louise and the other Jamiesons had known as much as Mercy, he supposed. Yet he couldn’t help thinking of the sorrow he and Louise might both have been saved if he’d been given any reason to believe Ashford was lying.
Still, Mercy’s admission did little to lessen his remorse. It was like having history repeat itself as he was reminded of how Mercy had silently watched his budding romance with their governess. It wasn’t his fault she’d initially become infatuated with him, but he was responsible for allowing that infatuation to strengthen over the past few months.
‘I’m sorry about all this, Mercy. But if I don’t marry Louise now I’ll be no good to you, anyway. All this time I’ve been telling myself that she was a lying hussy and I was better off without her. But she did care about me and she still does, more than I deserve.’
‘I’m sure I wish you happy, then.’ Mercy held her head proudly despite the tears glistening in her eyes. ‘Don’t upset yourself on my account, Lloyd–I’ll survive.’
She threw the reins over her horse’s head and he moved swiftly to help her mount. ‘Louise gave me a note to give your father. I won’t give it to you now–we don’t want him to know you’ve been here. I’ll ride over tonight and see him.’
‘Whatever you like.’ She kicked her mare in the ribs and shot off at a fast canter without bothering to say goodbye, balancing effortlessly in the sidesaddle. Lloyd stood there for a long time, motionless, watching her dust gradually drift and settle, before he got back to work.
~*~
Jock Jamieson made him feel worse than ever when he arrived at Kilbride just on dark.
‘Come inside, Lloyd. It’s grand to see ye. How did ye fare with your horse-buying trip?’
‘Pretty good, thanks Jock.’ He stood his ground, ignoring Jock’s gesture to enter. ‘I got a grey two-year-old filly–looks like she’ll be able to gallop. She was cheap, but I’ve got nothing against the colour.’
Colonial Daughter Page 26
