Jewel In the North

by Tricia Stringer

  “I’ll get you some water.” He took a chance and began to walk back towards his horse. He hoped she’d take up his offer. If not she wouldn’t get far.

  He took the flask from his saddle bag. When he turned she was standing close behind him. He offered the drink and she took it. As she drank he studied her. She was pale skinned for a woman of mixed blood. Short in stature and round of face. She had dark shadows under her eyes but was otherwise quite pretty. He watched as a dribble of water trailed from the corner of her mouth and on down her neck.

  She thrust the flask at him and took a step back. The baby continued to wail.

  He indicated the space under the tree where he’d made a rough seat. “Perhaps you could look after your baby here in the shade. I promise I will go and leave you in peace for a while.”

  Before she could answer he turned and walked away through the trees until he felt sure she wouldn’t be able to see him. He waited a few moments then crept back a little way. The back of her head was visible through the trees. He let out a breath. So she had sat. He would give her a chance to settle the baby then he would return. For now he moved a little closer, where he had a good view of her from behind, and waited.

  When he saw her lay the baby on the ground in front of her and begin to rewrap it in the blanket he sauntered back towards her, making a small enough amount of noise so as not to startle her.

  She stood as he approached and he offered the water again. This time she took several gulps before she handed it back.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Charles glanced to the west where the sun was lowering in the sky. “It will be dark in an hour or so. Are you travelling far?”

  “I have a distance to go. I will sleep out. I’m used to it.”

  “But not with a baby surely?” Charles carefully extended his hand and placed it gently on the tiny head. He could feel the pulse through its skin under his hand, so fragile. He didn’t remember Laura being this tiny. “Is it a boy or a girl? It seems so small.”

  “A boy. He came early but he’s getting strong now.”

  Charles let his hand fall away and he peered closer at the young woman. “You’re Jessie, aren’t you? From Smith’s Ridge?”

  She nodded, her gaze wary again.

  “I’m glad we’ve met. I’ve something I need you to do for me.”

  She swayed and he grabbed her arm. He hoped she wasn’t going to pass out on him. She’d given birth a week earlier but the word from his grocery boy was that she’d had a long difficult labour. It had been the reason she’d been brought in to The Gables. The baby was the wrong way around. Charles didn’t want to dwell on the hideous thought of a woman giving birth.

  “Sit down.”

  She did as he suggested, dropping her bag to the ground first. He made as if to assist her but snatched the baby from her arms instead.

  Jessie let out a frantic cry.

  “Shh now.” He held one finger to his lips and the baby to his chest with his other arm. It felt almost weightless. “I’ll hold the baby while you listen.”

  She tried to get up but he pushed her back. Her head thudded against the tree and now her look was fearful.

  “Where are your family, Jessie? Why haven’t they come to get you?”

  Hope flashed in her eyes. She looked past him towards the track. “They’re coming soon. I said I’d meet them here.”

  Charles let the baby slip a little. Jessie gasped and reached up her hands.

  “The truth now please, Jessie.” Charles glared at her. “Where are your family?”

  “I left the home early.” Her shoulders slumped but she didn’t take her eyes from the baby. “They’re not coming for another week.”

  “And you were going to walk all that way. Dear, dear. I can take you in my cart.”

  She transferred her gaze to Charles. “You don’t have a cart.”

  “Not here. But back in town. All I need is for you to do something for me.”

  Jessie shuddered and pushed herself back against the trunk of the tree. Charles saw the horror in her eyes.

  “Good heavens, woman,” he snarled. “I’m not going to touch you. There’s something else I need from you.”

  “Give me my baby,” she snapped.

  “It’s about him, actually.” Charles adjusted the baby a little higher in the crook of his arm. “He’s safe with me for the moment. But if I give him back to you he may not remain safe. I don’t know if you’ve heard of the Protector of Aborigines.”

  Her face registered fear.

  “Ah.” Charles smiled. “I suspect you have. My father and I are well acquainted with the man. Mr Harrison is his name. He dines at my family home when he’s in Hawker.”

  Charles began to pace, patting the baby gently. Jessie didn’t take her eyes from him.

  “I could easily tell him about an irresponsible mother who doesn’t look after her baby properly, a child with mixed blood.”

  “I can look after my baby.” Jessie struggled to her feet and took a step towards Charles. “Give him back to me.”

  Charles let the baby slip a little. Jessie cried out again.

  “Sit down,” Charles growled. “One word from me to Mr Harrison and your baby will be taken away.”

  Jessie sat, shoulders slumped. “What is it you want?”

  “I need you tell my friend Miss Prosser who the father of your child is.”

  “Clem?”

  “Come now, Jessie. You’ve spent a lot of time under your employer’s roof. He has a liking for brown skin. He had his way with you, didn’t he?”

  “Mr Baker?” Jessie shook her head violently. “I’ve only ever been with my Clem.”

  “That’s not the right answer.” Charles gave the baby a little shake. It squirmed and gave a tiny bleat of a cry.

  “Don’t hurt my baby.” Jessie’s lip trembled.

  “No harm will come to either of you so long as you do as I ask. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Charles moved closer and stood over her, the baby just out of her reach. “I need you to explain to Miss Prosser that William Baker forced himself on you and then swore you to secrecy so the baby could be passed off as your husband’s.”

  She gaped at him, her mouth a large hole in her round face. “Why?”

  “Why is none of your business. If you do this for me, I will take you and your baby home and make sure Mr Harrison never hears about him.” He leaned closer. “Do you understand, Jessie?”

  She nodded. Tears brimmed in her deep brown eyes.

  “No need to cry. I simply want to keep you and your baby safe. Only Miss Prosser and I will know. You can go home to your husband and live safely with your baby.”

  “I’ve never met Miss Prosser.”

  “She is coming to Hawker tomorrow. I will take you back with me now. There is a room attached to the stables where you will be comfortable for the night. I will bring Miss Prosser to meet you and then I will deliver you home safely.” He held out a hand to help her up. She steadied herself then reached for her baby. “You must be convincing or I will not help you.”

  “I will.” The tremble of her lips belied her words.

  Charles kept a secure arm around the child just for a moment then let her take him.

  “And Jessie, if you were ever to tell Miss Prosser a different story,” once more he placed his hand on the baby’s small head, “well, you know what would happen, don’t you?”

  Jessie cocooned the tiny body of her baby against her chest. She turned her big brown eyes to Charles. Tears streaked her cheeks. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Good.” He smiled benignly. “You look exhausted, poor thing. Just as well I found you and offered you a bed for the night.” Charles repacked his horse, all the while keeping a wary eye on Jessie, but she simply stood, blank-faced, cuddling her baby. Once he was done he took the baby again, helped her onto the horse then handed the child to her. It had been a very successful day. Now all he
needed was for Georgina to call in tomorrow as she had promised and for Jessie to do her bit and all would be well.

  “Charles, you’re acting very strangely.” Georgina frowned at him as he guided her towards the stables at the back of the Wiltshires’ house. “What is all this about a new horse?”

  He stopped beside her just outside the stable door. “Please forgive me, Georgina. There isn’t a new horse. I told you that so you would come with me.”

  Georgina pursed her lips. Charles was an annoying boy and nothing had changed since her last visit. She put her hands to her hips. “What’s this about then?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve discovered something that may be distressing for you to hear.”

  “Is that why we’ve come to the end of the yard? In case I get distressed?” She laughed but Charles simply lowered his gaze. The smile he usually had for her was replaced by a sombre face.

  “What is it, Charles? You’re worrying me.”

  He took her hands in his. Georgina thought to snatch them away but he was acting rather strangely and she didn’t want to upset him so she left her hands in his.

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s about William.”

  She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. “Has something happened to him?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Georgina snatched back her hands. “Then what is it, Charles? I’m not in the mood for games.”

  “This is about his … his household.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know he has denied living with his housekeeper and he may have been truthful in that —”

  “Charles, I won’t stand here and listen to you defame William.”

  “Let me finish please, Georgina. I do not take any pleasure from this. I am only thinking of you and your good name.”

  “Tell me then.” Georgina folded her arms. Charles always enjoyed a drama. No doubt he’d heard some more gossip.

  “William has fathered a child.”

  Georgina began to laugh. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

  “I knew you would find it hard to believe so I’ve brought you here to meet the mother and her child.”

  Georgina fell silent. She glanced around. “Where is this woman?”

  “I’ve asked her to wait out of sight. I didn’t think you would want a public display.”

  Right now Georgina could smack the self-righteous look from his face. “Well then?”

  He pushed open the stable door. A young woman, little more than a girl really, stood just inside, a baby in her arms. Her clothes were simple but clean and her hair was pulled back into a rough bun. The colour of her skin announced her mixed parentage.

  “Jessie, this is Miss Prosser.” Charles reached out and put a gentle hand on the baby’s head then turned back to Georgina. “Tell her what happened to you. What did William Baker do to you?”

  The woman met Georgina’s look. There was pain in her eyes.

  “He … he forced me.” Jessie kissed the top of her baby’s head.

  Georgina sucked in a breath. There was a loud whooshing sound in her ears. William could not possibly do such a thing.

  “And the baby?” Charles wagged a finger at the child clutched to Jessie’s chest.

  “It is his.”

  Georgina drew a breath and closed her eyes. Charles had been right. She would never have believed his word but the woman was another thing. Why would she lie? Georgina lifted her chin. In her chest a pain stabbed as if a knife had been driven through her. “If this is true we must tell the constable.”

  “No.” Jessie’s eyes filled with fear and she backed away.

  “Georgina, you mustn’t be so cruel,” Charles said.

  “If William has hurt this woman he must pay.”

  “And if he is brought before the magistrate what is to become of the baby?”

  Georgina turned to Jessie as she began to sob.

  “Please, Miss Prosser. I am married. My husband thinks the baby is his. He is a white man but I am of mixed race. If people find out Mr Baker is the father the protector will take my child.”

  “Surely not.” Georgina looked to Charles.

  He hung his head and held out his hands. “We could speak to him, but I think there would be such public outrage the child would be removed.”

  “Please, Miss Prosser.” Jessie grasped her arm. “I’m married to my Clem. He will be a good father. I don’t want to lose my baby.”

  Georgina felt as if the breath had been sucked out of her. Darkness zoomed in. She clutched at the arm that went about her, to steady her. She opened her eyes and took in the concern on Charles’s face.

  “I have offered to give Jessie a ride home to Smith’s Ridge,” he said. “It is her wish that this is kept quiet. Only harm will come from making it public.”

  Georgina’s thoughts were in turmoil. She couldn’t connect what she had heard with William. Not the man she knew, or thought she knew. But then she’d thought she understood her father and there were things in his life that had shocked her. She hardly knew the adult William. They’d been apart a long time. “Very well.” She raised her eyes to meet Jessie’s gaze. “I am so very sorry for what you have suffered.”

  Edith was curious. She’d seen Charles coming out of the room beside the stables the night before when she’d been coming back across her yard. Now in the gloom of pre-dawn he was going in there again. She detoured from her path to conduct her morning ablutions and let herself in the gate to the yard. The morning was crisp and still. Stepping lightly, she glanced towards the U-shaped extension on the back of the house, where Flora Nixon slept. There was no sign of movement so she kept on until she reached the storeroom door, which was slightly ajar. Edith pressed herself to the wall as she heard Charles speak.

  “I will come back and collect you once I have loaded my wagon with supplies, Jessie.”

  A baby gave a cry and a woman’s soothing tones followed.

  Edith frowned. Why would he have a woman and child in his storeroom?

  “You’ve done very well, Jessie,” Charles continued. “You’ve kept to your end of the bargain, and as long as you tell no-one the truth I will keep to mine. The protector will not find out about your baby as long as Miss Prosser keeps thinking he is Mr Baker’s child, and he will be safe.”

  Edith longed to peep in the small window in the wall. Who was this Jessie Charles was blackmailing? A door creaked from the direction of the house. Edith froze. Behind her Charles continued to speak softly to the woman inside the storeroom. Across the yard the door to Flora’s room slowly opened. There was a vegetable garden and some small shrubs between the stable and the house. Edith eased down to a crouch against the stone wall and hoped Flora wouldn’t look her way.

  Someone poked a head round the door but it was not Flora Nixon. Edith watched Henry Wiltshire emerge from the room. His hair was dishevelled, his clothes crumpled and he carried his boots in his hands. Without even a glance in Edith’s direction he hobbled across the courtyard and let himself in the kitchen door.

  Edith relaxed against the wall. Henry had probably been visiting his housekeeper’s bed for years. How disgusting. Poor Mrs Wiltshire.

  “I will be back soon.” Charles’s voice was louder. Edith pushed off the wall and scuttled around the side of the building.

  The door dragged open then closed and footsteps retreated across the yard. Edith let out the breath she’d been holding. She peeped around the corner. The yard was empty. She crept back around the corner and couldn’t resist putting her face to the little window. A young woman sat on the edge of a crude bed. She cradled a tiny baby in her arms and she was sobbing. Edith’s heart melted at the sight of such despair. She thought of her own mother and what she’d been driven to. Edith didn’t want that for herself, or anyone else. She pulled away from the glass and walked quickly back to her own yard.

  Once in the safety of her cottage Edith shook off the sadness she’d felt for Jessie, whoever she was
, and allowed herself to smile. She did not know yet how the knowledge that her employer slept with his housekeeper and that his son was blackmailing a woman to lie about her child’s parentage would be useful, but she stored it away, knowing someday it would be.

  Twenty-four

  May 1899

  The room was heavy with silence as the three men gathered in Henry’s office pondered the devastation of the situation. The room was not spacious yet it was usually comfortable enough for Henry to conduct his business. Today it felt crowded. His business partners, Mr Pyman and Mr Button, sat opposite him. Henry rested his elbows on his desk and touched the tips of his fingers together. Pyman shifted in his chair, staring at some point on Henry’s desk.

  It was Button who broke the silence. “So, we must close the creamery.”

  “There is nothing more that can be done to save it?” Henry wasn’t one to throw good money after bad but there were their investments in buildings and plant to think of. He had a lot of debt still to recover from this venture.

  “There are simply not enough cows left in the district, Wiltshire.” Pyman rose and strode to Henry’s office window, where he stared out at the May day.

  Henry knew he would be able to see little from that window except for the wall of the building next door and a glimpse of the cloudless sky.

  “We can perhaps sell the plant to recoup some money,” Button said.

  Henry certainly hoped so. Between the creamery and Charles’s ventures their finances were stretched well beyond the comfortable position Henry had built up in the years before this drought.

  Pyman turned back from the window. “It’s the men who worked for us I feel for.”

  “They’ll get something else.” Henry dismissed Pyman’s concern. Of more irritation would be the people who had thought them foolish to open the creamery in the first place. The I-told-you-so brigade would be going to town at their expense. Henry did not like failure. He thought of the huge crowd that would gather later in the month for the annual Hawker races. “Can’t we keep it going … just until the end of the month?”

  “There is nothing to be gained from delaying.” Pyman shook his head and returned to his chair. “It’s tough for the whole district.”