“You are what I want.”
He held her gaze and then gave a quick nod. “Very well. Until we are married we must work out some kind of suitable living arrangement.”
She stood on her toes and kissed his lips. “Don’t take too long.”
Thirty-two
October 1899
Charles drew his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow under his broad hat. His ride across the plain had been hot enough but the hill country at the back of Smith’s Ridge was even worse. Not a breath of wind stirred and the air in the gullies was oppressive. He was pleased to see there was still water in the spring beside Becker’s camp. The man had been sitting at a table in the shade of a large gum. He looked up and got to his feet as Charles approached.
“Good to see you, Charles,” he said.
Charles dismounted and shook the older man’s hand.
“I see you’ve brought supplies.” Becker indicated the second horse Charles had led in. “I hope you’ve also brought a swag.”
“I planned to stay a few days.”
“You will need to stay longer than that.” Becker pushed his hat back on his head. His pale skin had turned red with the heat in spite of it. “I am returning to South Africa.”
“Why?”
“War has been declared. I must return to defend my home from the British devils.”
Charles pursed his lips. He didn’t give a fig about the squabble between the Brits and South Africa. He wanted to find diamonds. “I can spend some time here but I have other businesses to run.”
“Then you will need to find another man to help you. The rules in relation to the claim say there must be someone working it. If not you then an employee.”
“When will you come back?”
Becker shrugged. “I do not know.” He turned and walked back towards the table he’d been working at. Charles followed, leading the horses. He tethered them and crossed to where Becker was bending over his work. An assortment of rocks littered the table in heaps of varying sizes. Buckets of water stood on the ground beside the table and a large sieve was propped nearby.
On the table one small pile of rocks glittered in the sunlight slanting between the leaves of the gum tree high overhead.
Charles reached for one. “Are they diamonds?”
“No.” Becker shook his head. “I’ve found no diamonds here, although there are definite similarities between this place and my diamond mine at home.”
“Surely you’ve found something.”
“It is a needle in a haystack process. The shepherd who first brought us here was sure this was where Joseph Baker found his rock.”
“And you’re sure that rock is a diamond?”
“Several people were only too happy to describe it to me, including your father.” Becker scratched at his thick red beard. “I was able to follow the trail to a merchant in Sydney, who authenticated the rock. That’s what brought me this way in the first place, and once I saw this country I knew there could be diamonds here.” Becker looked around. “It’s strange though. If Baker found the diamond here why didn’t he stake his own claim?”
“The Bakers are definitely peculiar people. There would be no explaining it.” Charles looked at the waterhole and then further along where the creek narrowed. “Unless this isn’t the place and they have staked a claim elsewhere.”
Becker shook his head. “This is the only diamond claim in this area. There were gold claims further north and copper of course but no diamond mines.”
“Well then, Mr Becker.” Charles rolled up his sleeves. “You’d better show me what to do and then I shall have to return to town and find someone who will work here for me.”
Becker began to wash a pile of dirt. “I’ve been using this sieve. It uses less water to do it this way. I’ve been mindful that the Bakers also need the waterhole for their cattle.”
“Isn’t it included in the claim we made?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then damn the Bakers.” Charles waved his hand in the air. “They have other waterholes.”
Becker raised his eyebrows but turned back to his sieve. “You need little experience to look for diamonds. They can be any shape.”
Becker began to explain. Charles wondered whether the Bakers really were stupid or playing it smart. If they knew there were diamonds on their land and they didn’t want them or want anyone else to find them, it’s possible they wouldn’t stake a claim. It would be an admission there were diamonds to be found.
Two days later Charles set off at first light to return to Hawker, with a promise to Becker he’d return in a week to relieve him. Now that he was eighteen his name was on the claim instead of Henry’s — his father had been happy to offer it as a birthday gift. Charles had no intention of spending long periods of time doing the thankless work Becker had shown him. Charles was pondering who he might hire in his stead when he saw a horse and rider going through the boundary gate to Smith’s Ridge. The man was towing a second horse loaded with bags. Charles recognised the rider as he drew closer. He was one of the shepherds from Prosser’s Run.
Charles was on the Prosser’s side of the fence but he hadn’t planned on meeting anyone. The man had seen him though and reined in his horse so Charles continued on towards him. It didn’t matter that he should be seen. Everyone knew he had interests in the mine now anyway.
“Hello, Mr Charles.”
Charles raised his hand in a small acknowledgement of response.
“Didn’t expect to see you out here.”
“Where are you headed?” Charles could see now the second horse appeared to be loaded with personal effects, a case and a large patchwork bag, rather than food items.
“Mrs Prosser sent me to take these things to Miss Georgina.”
“At Smith’s Ridge?”
“That’s right. She lives there now.” The man’s face split in a big grin. “Going to marry William Baker. Are you going to see Mrs Prosser?”
“No.” Charles pulled himself up straight in the saddle. “I’ve been doing business. I’m on my way home.”
“Just as well you keep away today. Mrs Prosser’s not a happy lady.” The shepherd began to laugh. He kicked his horse into motion and the sound of his merriment floated back to Charles as he rode away.
Anger boiled in the pit of Charles’s stomach. Georgina was a fool to marry Baker and even more so to be living with him before the formalities were conducted. If they ever were. She was an embarrassment. He’d show her. Charles would find himself a wife who was much more suitable than Georgina Prosser.
By the time he arrived home it was dark; there were no lamps lit at the front of the house. He rode his horse down the side, where light shone from the kitchen window. Once he reached the stables he could see a lamp had been lit there and also at the back of the house. His father’s carriage and the black horse that drew it were missing. Charles removed the saddle from his horse and filled up its hay box. Weary from the heat of working at the mine for no result and the long ride home, he dragged himself across the yard to the back door.
His head hurt from thinking over possible men he could employ to continue working at the mine and, more importantly, trying to think of a suitable woman to be his wife. The only eligible young women paled in comparison to Georgina. He was furious that the more he struggled to keep the evaluations from his mind the more he saw her pretty face.
He flung open the kitchen door with more force than he’d intended.
“Oh, Mr Charles.” Edith had been sitting at the table, her head bent over a book, but she stood quickly at the sight of him and snatched up the book. “I didn’t know you were expected home.”
“I didn’t give Father a day. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be.”
Edith stood quivering by the chair she’d almost knocked over in her haste to get up.
“Edith, you look quite flushed. Are you unwell?”
“I am perfectly well, thank you, Mr Charles.” She put her hands behin
d her back and edged away from the table. “You startled me, that’s all.”
He glanced around. “Why are you here? Where is everyone?”
Edith turned to the jacket she’d placed on the hook behind the hall door and slid something into the pocket. “Your father had a meeting and Mrs Nixon wanted to attend a musical evening at the church, so I’ve been enlisted to sit with Laura.” She smiled at him. “Shall I make you some supper?”
“That would be very kind, thank you.”
Edith lit another lamp and carried it into the pantry. She came back with a tray loaded with bread, cheese and some kind of tart.
“Mrs Ferguson showed me these in case I got hungry. It’s a cheese and onion tart, I believe.” Edith set about preparing the food for him.
“How was the shop today?”
“Still rather quiet. I did a lot of tidying.”
Charles slumped onto a chair and leaned back in it. None of the Wiltshire ventures were faring well at the moment. The swish of Edith’s skirt distracted him. He thought back to their picnic the week before. It had been a most enjoyable afternoon, even though Laura had demanded their attention most of the time. Charles was pleased Edith hadn’t given in to her like most other adults. He also liked the way she looked at him. Her gaze was full of innocence and yet sometimes there was the hint of something else lurking below her smile.
She put a plate of food in front of him and some cutlery.
“Won’t you join me?”
“Oh, no thank you. I told Mrs Nixon I ate before I came over. I’m not hungry.”
“A drink, then.”
She opened her mouth but he cut her off. “I won’t take no for an answer.” He got up and, lifting the small lamp she had left on the bench, he made for the pantry. “I am sure there is plenty of wine left over from my birthday,” he called back as he inspected the shelves. Several bottles were lined up. He took one and returned to the kitchen to find an opener. He was pleased to see Edith had set out two glasses. He poured the wine and they both sat. She cut herself a slice of bread and a piece of cheese.
“Just to be sociable.” She smiled. Her hair, swept back from her face in a bun, shone in the lamplight.
He raised his glass and took a sip. She did the same.
“Mmm,” she said. “That’s quite nice, isn’t it?”
“Have you not tried riesling before?”
“Oh no.” She looked at him across the table, her cheeks a softer pink now and her eyes glittering. “I’ve never really had much opportunity to drink wine, or any other liquor for that matter.” She took another sip. “This is most enjoyable.”
Charles was suddenly struck by her attractiveness. She did not have Georgina’s beauty but there was something about her. He studied her over the top of his glass as he took another sip. Edith was an obliging mix of innocence and kindness and she was always interested in what he had to say. He thought of the way her fingers had caressed his skin when she’d removed his socks and boots. She had no idea, of course, of the sensations that had caused within him.
“Do eat up, Mr Charles. You must be very hungry.”
Edith put a small piece of bread into her own mouth. He held his breath as her delicate pink tongue slowly retrieved a crumb from her bottom lip. She took another sip of her wine and he drank a larger slug of his. Why was he only now realising what had been right in front of his face? He had thought he could take Edith as his mistress but she was far too good a woman for that. She might be an employee but she was a fine young woman with no-one else in the world to look out for her. Charles would be able to mould her into the perfect wife. He ate on in silent contemplation, tantalising himself with images of guiding Edith in the art of the bedroom.
A sudden crash surprised him.
“Oh, dear.” Edith lowered her gaze to her shirtfront. “How clumsy of me. I have spilled my wine.” She took the top of her shirt between her fingers and flapped the fabric. When she stopped the white material clung to her breasts, revealing the pink flesh above her chemise.
“Can I get you a cloth?”
“Oh, no. It’s so wet. I have my jacket here and it buttons up the front.” She gave him another of her sweet smiles and picked up the small lamp. “May I use your bedroom to remove my shirt and put on my jacket?”
“Of course.” Charles stood, wanting to go with her, but restraining himself at the door.
Edith collected her jacket and went into his room. She turned, looked him in the eye and slowly closed the door between them. He let out a soft groan and flung himself back in his chair. Dear Lord, she was the most desirable woman. He wanted to be the one in there removing her clothes.
He looked at the glass she had dropped and wondered how she could have spilled so much on herself. Then he stood, picked up the bottle and refilled both their glasses.
Edith studied herself in the small mirror. The jacket was a serviceable dark grey but the design was shapely. The buttons stopped barely halfway over her breasts, which were pushed up by her corset and covered only by the lace of her chemise. She tugged the jacket lower and loosened the highest button, which sat at the middle of her breasts. The slightest movement and it would slip open.
She smiled and glanced down at the floor beside the bed. What a start Charles had given her when he came in. She had not expected him home. Reading that book had made her feel brazen. What would have happened had he discovered her reading his secret book? And she had just read a most salacious chapter.
She put her hands to her cheeks and practised her coy look in the mirror. When she had been asked to babysit, Edith had not expected it would involve yet another opportunity to ensnare Charles. She straightened her shoulders, making the button strain dangerously close to slipping open, took up her damp shirt and left the room.
He was waiting for her just outside the door. His eyes were greedy for her. Aware of his scrutiny, she put a hand to her chest.
“Your wine, mademoiselle.” He inclined his head and she giggled.
“You do have a way with words, Mr Charles.”
“Dear Edith.” He offered his arm to walk her back to the table and she giggled again.
He seated her in the chair then, gripping the back of it, he bent over her shoulder. She shifted in her chair to give him the view she knew he was seeking.
“I did enjoy our picnic last Sunday.” He spoke softly, close to her ear.
A little shiver ran through her. “So did I, Mr Charles. It was most delightful.” Her words came out in snatches between breaths.
Then he was beside her, kneeling at her feet. The swiftness of his movement surprised her. He clasped her hands in his and looked up at her, desire written all over his face. “Dearest Edith. This may come as a surprise to you, but I have the deepest feelings for you.”
She paused for a heartbeat, then leaned forward. “Oh, Mr Charles.” The button slipped open and she saw his eyes widen and focus on her breasts but she kept her gaze on him, pretending she hadn’t noticed. “I had no idea. I had imagined my feelings were one sided,” she gasped.
He groaned and finally lifted his gaze to hers. “Dearest Edith, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
She looked him squarely in the eye, took one of his hands in hers and raised it to her breast where she pressed it firmly to the bare flesh. “I would be delighted, Mr Charles.” Once more she made sure her words came out as a soft whisper, although after reading that book and feeling his warm hand gently squeezing her breast this time it was not so much of an act.
“Edith, dear Edith.” He leaned closer and pushed his lips over hers and his other hand joined the first, and he tweaked her nipples through the cotton chemise.
Her pulse raced as his lips traced a line down her neck while his fingers worked at the buttons of her jacket. She arched her neck back and thrust her breasts forward, eager for his touch now.
“Chars?”
Edith’s eyes opened. Laura was standing just inside the kitchen, the hall door open behi
nd her. She clutched a rag doll to her chest, her little eyes bleary and her hair in disarray. Charles jumped to his feet and spun around, hiding Edith behind him. She redid the buttons of her jacket with trembling fingers.
“What’s the matter, Laura?” His voice barely hid his annoyance.
“Want Mama.” The little girl began to cry.
“Oh for pity’s sake,” Charles groaned.
Sure she was tidy now, Edith stood. “Let me,” she said. She brushed Charles with her arm as she passed and picked up the little girl. “Did you have a bad dream?”
Laura nodded her head.
“Come along, I will sit with you.”
“But Edith …”
She turned back, amused at the pouting look he gave her. “You must be very tired, Mr Charles. Why don’t you turn in? Perhaps we could take Laura on another of those picnics on Sunday.”
She turned and carried Laura back to her bed. For once she was thankful for the child’s appearance. Who knows how she would have extricated herself from the tricky situation in the kitchen. She didn’t want to give Charles too much leeway: just enough to keep him wanting more until she became his wife. Edith smiled as she pulled the covers over Laura, whose eyes were closed again already. Tonight she had had a formal proposal from Charles. It was the first step. Edith knew the offer came from desperation and he could change his mind in the cold light of day. She had to keep tempting him in her direction. And then there was Mr Henry. She doubted he’d be happy to learn his son had proposed to their shop assistant, but she had something up her sleeve if he proved a problem.
Edith looked smugly at the now sleeping Laura. “I do believe I shall be your sister-in-law, Laura,” she whispered. “Very soon, I hope.”
Thirty-three
“Jessie, he’s such a dear little babe.” Georgina looked up from the baby she bounced on her knee to the young woman kneading dough on the crude table surface.
Jessie paused from her work and looked up. Her lips lifted in a smile and her eyes matched the sentiment. Georgina was relieved to see she was making some headway with William’s young housekeeper. It had been awkward at first. Jessie had still been so distressed over her lies and Georgina had to be careful only to reassure her when Clem wasn’t around. That wasn’t hard at the moment. All the men were off with the cattle.
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