“Well, what say we give this place a spruce up?” Hegarty leaned back and his chair squeaked in protest. “I’ll move my things to the shearer’s quarters: no-one will be needing them for a while. The big front room could do with a clean-out — it hasn’t been used for so long. I’m sure Jessie would give us a hand to add a feminine touch to the place. What do you say, Clem?”
Hegarty’s enthusiasm brought a responding smile to Clem’s face. “I’ll see to the cattle this morning then come back and lend a hand.”
“Thank you.” William felt his good spirits return.
“No time to waste.” Hegarty lumbered to his feet. “We’ve got a bridegroom and a love nest to prepare.”
This time Clem grinned as William’s face heated.
Thirty-one
Georgina relaxed in the saddle at the first sight of Prosser’s Run homestead through the trees. She was very tired but the prospect of home lifted her spirits. Behind her the small cart followed, loaded with their bags and a small amount of supplies. It was driven by her mother, who had hardly spoken a word in two days. The weight of her silence weighed on Georgina but she knew it wouldn’t last. Her mother would have plenty to say once they reached home.
Swan sauntered across to meet them as they arrived at the back of the house. Georgina wasn’t as fond of Swan as she had been of Mr Donovan. She didn’t find him as easy to work with. It was a pity the Donovans had left, but someone had to go in the difficult times. He’d found work in the south and Mrs Donovan had been pleased to be closer to her children.
Swan helped Johanna down from the cart.
“Thank you, Mr Swan. Has everything been all right here?”
“Still the same, Mrs Prosser. That bit of rain has saved us for a while. No more cattle lost.”
“That’s a blessing at least.”
Johanna slid from Duchess’s back.
“I’ll take her for you,” Swan said. “How was the birthday?”
“The Wiltshires’ usual overindulgence.” Georgina handed him the reins and undid the small bag attached to the saddle.
“It was a wonderful affair,” Johanna gushed. “And most enjoyable.”
“I thought you had planned to stay in town longer,” Swan said.
“I would like to have but …” Johanna shook her head. “It was not possible. Can you unload the cart, please, Mr Swan?”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Georgina said. Anything to delay her mother’s wrath.
“I am going inside.” Johanna gave her a steely look. “I am quite exhausted, however we do need to talk. Don’t take too long.”
Georgina helped Swan unload the cart. Right now she wished her mother was still the reticent lost soul she’d been after Ellis’s death. It had been a relief to see her slowly emerge from those terrible months of inconsolable grief. Georgina felt a little guilty: it had been the trips to Hawker to assist with the Wiltshires’ social life that had helped her mother recover. Now they would no longer be welcome. Georgina hoped planning a wedding would give her mother something else to occupy her time for a while.
Once the cart was unloaded Swan led the horses away. Georgina paused on the low back verandah of the house. She removed her favourite broad-brimmed hat and took a mug of water from the jug her mother always sat by the door in the shade.
The late-September weather had become warmer again in the last week. The cattle would soon make short work of the grass that had grown after the minimal winter rain. Once again it would become a daily battle to keep them alive.
Georgina replaced the mug, wiped her hands down her shirt and over the legs of her trousers and went inside.
Johanna had changed her clothes and sat at the kitchen table. In the centre was a plate with cheese and pickles and beside it some slices of the bread Flora Nixon had given them before they left. It had been a hasty and quiet departure. Only Henry had seen them off.
“Sit down.” Johanna indicated the space opposite her, where another place had been set.
Georgina sat, steeling herself for the tirade that she felt sure was to come.
Johanna’s voice was low and calm. “You know how disappointed I am, and the Wiltshires of course, that you have refused Charles’s offer of marriage.”
Georgina opened her mouth but her mother put up a hand.
“Let me finish. I want you to think carefully on this. It’s not too late to change your mind and for Charles to change his.”
“Change his?” Georgina’s brow wrinkled in a frown.
“He told his father the morning before we left how he no longer thought you a suitable companion. It’s no wonder, the way you treat him sometimes — and look at the way you are dressed.”
“My clothing has nothing to do with it, Mother. Charles asked me to be his wife and I refused him.”
“For William Baker.”
“I would have refused Charles regardless.”
“He’s a fine young man with good prospects.”
“How can you side with him, Mother? He is so much younger than me, and full of his own importance — and he treats some people so badly.”
“A few natives.”
“Not only the natives, no. And they’re people, like you and me.”
“Hmph!” Johanna clasped her hands together and looked away.
“He’s sneaky as well. He allowed that diamond miner to use our land as a way to get to his claim and he told me his father’s name is on the claim. England is at war with South Africa and Charles is in cahoots with a South African. Where is your patriotism, Mother?”
“Sometimes you have to turn a blind eye to small imperfections.”
“Small imperfections! Charles is a pompous ass.”
Johanna drew in a sharp breath. “You’re being very foolish, Georgina.” She picked up a paper that sat neatly folded beside her plate. “I didn’t think I would have to resort to this but I see I must make you see sense. Have you forgotten the terms of your inheritance?” She waved the page at Georgina. “If you marry before your thirtieth birthday you must have my consent or you will lose Prosser’s Run.” Johanna glowered at her. “I do not give my consent for you to marry William Baker.”
Georgina rose slowly to her feet. “If you make me choose between Prosser’s Run and William, I will be very sad.” She placed her hands on the table, lifted her chin and fixed her mother with a hard look. “But make no mistake, Mother. I will choose William Baker.”
She was rewarded by the colour draining from her mother’s face.
“William should arrive here by early afternoon tomorrow, and I expect you to receive him civilly and listen to what he has to say.” Georgina stood tall.
There was little sound, bar the crackle of the fire.
She glanced at the food. “I’m not hungry. I’m going for a ride.”
“You must take —”
“On my own. I shall be back before dinner.” Georgina strode from the room.
The sun shone brightly through her window the next morning. Georgina had slept deeply in spite of the turmoil in her head. There were so many things she and William hadn’t discussed. Her head felt heavy from sleep, but in spite of everything her heart felt light. Today she would see William again. She bounced from her bed and took extra care with her washing and dressing.
She buttoned up a white blouse with ruffles at the neckline. Her hands hovered over the previous day’s trousers. She hadn’t cared what anyone else thought about her clothing — and William had said the trousers were sensible. Still, Georgina put them aside and took one of the narrower gored skirts she’d had made in England from her wardrobe. It was a muddy pink, feminine without being too pretty, and of a lighter fabric for the warm days they’d been having.
In the kitchen her mother was already at the table with some damper and a cup of tea.
“Good morning, Mother.”
Her mother gave her a brief glance then returned to her meagre meal.
Georgina sat and dished herself some porridge from the
bowl on the table. Breakfast was obviously to be endured in the same silence as the previous night’s dinner. Her mother ate without speaking. No doubt adding to her poor temper was Georgina’s late appearance.
Since Mrs Donovan had left, Johanna had done most of the cooking, but it was usually Georgina who cleaned out the stove each morning and set the new fire. She’d slept in and it was obvious from the marks on her mother’s apron and the smudge on her right cheek that she had tackled the job herself.
Georgina oversaw all the stock work — this had functioned well for them. Now she wondered how her mother would manage on her own. No doubt Swan would relish the opportunity to take more control. Then there were the finances: another role Georgina had taken on since her father’s death. Her mother had little idea of how much it took to run the property, and relied on her to manage the money, or lack of it.
Georgina finished her porridge and carried the bowl to the bench. She turned, her hands on the board behind her. She took a deep breath. “Perhaps you should look at employing a cook or a cleaner, Mother.”
Johanna took a deep breath of her own and sat back. “You tell me there is barely enough money left to pay the staff we have. How am I to afford a housekeeper?”
“I didn’t mean a housekeeper. Just someone who could help out around the place.”
“And who will I find out here to do that?” Johanna stood. “And before you say a native, you can stop.” She drew herself up. “I will not have them in the house.”
“Suit yourself. But if I am not here I don’t know how you will manage.”
“Where will you be?”
Georgina clicked her tongue. “I am going to marry William. You are denying me access to Prosser’s Run so I won’t be here to help you.”
“And where are you to live?”
“At Smith’s Ridge.” Georgina faltered. The only time she’d been to the house there was as a little girl and it had been William’s mother’s funeral. It had not been a happy day.
“It’s beneath you, Georgina, and there are natives living there.”
“I have work to do outside.”
“Dressed like that.”
“I really can’t win with you, Mother, can I?” Georgina glanced down at her ruffled muslin blouse. “I will be checking the horses while I wait for William.” She glowered at her mother. “The air is fresher in the stables.” She strode to the back door.
“Don’t waste your time watching for Baker. I doubt he’ll turn up.”
Georgina turned. “Why not?”
“He’s not a reliable man, is he?”
“How can you say that? You barely know the man William has become.”
Johanna slapped the wooden surface of the table. “And what do you know of him? It’s not as if you’ve spent any time with him. Not like you have with Charles.”
They glared at each other. Georgina wanted to say she knew William was a good, kind man with arms she felt safe in and lips she felt caressed by but it would only alienate her mother more.
“I’ve spent enough time with both men to know that Charles is a despicable boy and William a fine man.” Georgina softened her tone. “Please, Mother. Hear him out. That’s all I ask.” She spun and let herself out into the warm morning, shutting the door firmly behind her.
The few hours till noon stretched out interminably, even though Georgina kept herself busy. She didn’t go in for lunch but positioned herself near the stable door where she had a good view of the track that led to the house. There had been no sign of Swan or any of the shepherds all morning. No doubt they were out checking the cattle and the waterholes.
Georgina spent the time brushing down Duchess and the two other horses in the stable. She had donned the apron she kept on a hook inside the door and stopped herself from doing the muck work, at least until William had been. And then what? She couldn’t think past the moment when she would see him again. Once more she glanced along the track. Would he make an impression on her mother or would it all be a waste of time, as she had thought?
The sun passed its zenith and Georgina grew more and more restless. She knew which way William would come and she decided to ride out to meet him. She saddled the now gleaming Duchess and perched herself side saddle, a position she detested. Duchess was happy to be outside and eager to trot. Georgina headed her along the track then turned cross-country towards the trail William would follow.
She was surprised to realise she had reached the large stand of gum trees that zigzagged the edge of a dry creek bed with no sign of William. She had thought she would have met him by now.
Her spirits rose when she made out the shape of a horse and rider through the trees. The horse was stationary, a second riderless horse beside it, and then she realised there was a third horse with a rider ahead of the first.
Georgina frowned. She recognised both riders. One was William and the other was Swan. She gasped as she realised Swan held a rifle pointed at William. She urged Duchess on. Both men looked around at her approach.
“Swan, what are you doing?” she called. “Put down that gun.”
Swan frowned and lowered the weapon. She glanced from him to William.
“It seems you no longer want to marry me,” he said.
“What? Who told you that?”
“Swan.”
“I have my orders,” Swan growled. “You shouldn’t be here, Miss Prosser.”
“What orders, and from whom?”
Swan glowered at her.
“Out with it, Swan, or you can find yourself a different employer.”
“Mrs Prosser.”
“When did she give you these orders?”
“First thing this morning.”
Georgina’s shoulders sank. The small hope she’d harboured that her mother would accept William evaporated.
“I think you can put the gun away now, Swan.” William climbed from his horse and walked to Georgina’s side. “I’m sorry. I’d hoped I could speak with your mother but it seems she’s determined to stop me.”
Anger flooded Georgina’s veins. “Swan. Go back to Prosser’s Run and tell my mother her plan didn’t work. When … if she wishes to speak sensibly with me, she will find me at Smith’s Ridge.”
“Georgina.” William’s voice had a cautionary tone.
Swan didn’t move.
“Mr Swan,” she growled. “There is nothing more for you to do here. Return to my mother and give her my message.”
Swan glared at her a moment longer then pushed his rifle into its holder and turned his horse back along the trail.
“Georgina, what do—?”
She slid from her horse and into William’s arms, cutting off his protest with her lips on his. Her arms slipped around him and suddenly he was hugging her tight and kissing her with such passion, she melted against him.
Finally, they drew apart.
“I should take you home.” William looked at her with longing. She pressed herself to his chest again and wrapped her arms tightly around him.
“To Smith’s Ridge,” she murmured into his shirt.
“You can’t, Georgina. If you don’t care about your reputation I must care for you. Of all people I know what life can be like once others think the worst of you.”
“They have already looked down their noses at me for being Ellis Prosser’s daughter. The opinion of small-minded people matters little.” She looked up at him. “Surely we can find someone to marry us soon.”
“Without delay.” William took her arms in his strong hands and gently eased her away from him. “Until then you must return to Prosser’s Run.”
“I will not.”
“The arrangements at Smith’s Ridge are not suitable for—”
“I will sleep in your stables if I have to.”
His lips twitched. “Georgina, we don’t exactly have ‘stables’ at Smith’s Ridge.”
“Then I’ll build one.” She lifted her chin and looked him squarely in the eye. “I am not going back to Prosser’s
Run. There is nothing there for me now.”
“Your mother.”
“My mother will not give her permission for me to marry you. I held some small hope she would come round but it’s obvious that optimism was futile.” Georgina wrenched from his arms and turned to look along the trail to her old home. “Without her permission I lose my inheritance.”
“What?”
“My father’s will states if I marry before my thirtieth birthday without my mother’s permission I get nothing.” She turned back to William and held out her arms. “I come to you penniless and in the clothes I am wearing. Are you sure you still want me?”
It took William two steps to reach her and wrap her in his arms again. He kissed her cheek and she closed her eyes, inhaling the earthy scent of him, the man she loved.
“It matters nothing to me, Georgina,” he said gently. “But Prosser’s Run is your life blood. We could wait—”
She threw back her head and glared up at him. “William Baker, don’t you dare suggest we can wait five years, nearly six to be married. Take me with you to Smith’s Ridge immediately. We have a wedding to plan.”
“Very well.” He smiled down at her and her anger evaporated. “Come and see.” He took her hand. “I have a gift for you.”
He led her past his horse to the second: a good-looking mare with a gleaming tan coat and dark mane.
“Who is this beautiful lady?”
“Bella.”
“That’s a fine name.” Georgina whispered in Bella’s ear. The horse shook her head.
“What? You don’t think so?” Georgina chuckled. “She’s truly beautiful.”
“Like the woman who will ride her.” William put an arm around Georgina’s waist. “She’s especially good working with cattle.”
“Duchess will be pleased about that. She’s not fond of cattle work.” Georgina ran a hand down Bella’s neck then turned back to William. “She’s magnificent, thank you.”
“If we are to make Smith’s Ridge before dark we must set off.” William gripped her hand tightly. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Jewel In the North Page 28
