Daring Masquerade

by Margaret Tanner

  "Maybe." He shrugged out of his suit jacket and followed her gaze to the bed. "Later," he promised.

  She skipped down the stairs and found Jack on his second cup of tea. "You'll have dinner here tonight, won't you, Jack? Mrs. Bates has a nice piece of beef on cooking."

  Ross stepped into the room.

  "Yes thank you. Oh Ross, Harry's invited me to dinner and I've accepted. What time will we be back?"

  "Um…have it ready for seven-thirty."

  When the men departed, Harry carted their luggage upstairs and unpacked everything. She moved Ross' clothes to one side in the wardrobe, and hung up all her new things. His uniform pants and jacket she put on a hanger in the wardrobe, everything else she left in the kit bag for him to deal with. He would look so handsome all dressed up. How can I ever let him go?

  Padding over to the window, she pushed it open so she could watch him ride off. They had shared this room while they waited to get married, unbeknown to Mrs. Bates, who had prepared a guest bedroom for her. For her first night on Devil's Ridge as Mrs. Ross Calvert she wanted everything to be extra special.

  Harry stripped off the bed linen, replacing the plain white sheets with lace-trimmed ones from the large, well stocked linen press on the landing. Tripping down the stairs, she went straight to the rose garden and picked several long-stemmed roses. She buried her face in the soft petals, inhaling their intoxicating perfume.

  A small pine forest grew out the back beyond the garden fence. Mrs. Bates said Ross' father planted it many years ago so there would always be a plentiful supply of Christmas trees, but Eric claimed it as his special place.

  Back inside the house she dashed upstairs and arranged the roses in a crystal vase on the dresser. The open window let in the fresh clean fragrance of the bush. Harry now felt certain she carried Ross' child. The feelings of nausea, the tiredness and the fact that she wept over trifles, as well as a lack of any monthly flow, were some of the symptoms Elsie mentioned, and she had them all. There could be no mistake now. The night before he left for the war, she would prepare a special meal as a prelude to telling him the good news.

  She skipped into the nursery that was next door to the main bedroom, connected by a door from Ross' dressing room. An intricately carved rocking cradle reposed in the middle of the floor and a mahogany chest of drawers, with twist and turned columns down the side, was pushed up against one wall. Her baby would use Ross and Eric's nursery furniture.

  If only you could love me, and you weren't going off to the war I would be so happy. He might be away for years, might never come back home, like Eric.

  "You will come back, you will," she said fiercely. It was the only way she could bear to think about it.

  The highchair Ross had eaten his baby food in could be set to a lower position and rest on the floor to become a rocker. Numerous items of baby clothing had been carefully stored away along with beautiful shawls and satin trimmed blankets.

  * * *

  As Harry set the table in the dining room, she admired the oval, balloon backed chairs with the woolen tapestry seats. She used the special gold trimmed china and crystal goblets. Over the table hung a beautiful amber glass lamp. When she carefully lit each of the eight candles on the ends of the elaborately carved arms, the effect became stunning.

  Mrs. Bates explained that they dressed formally for dinner only if they had guests, but Harry changed into a spotted white voile dress with a scattering of green leaves around the skirt. She brushed her wayward curls and dabbed rose water on her wrists and throat.

  She insisted on Mrs. Bates joining them. The housekeeper had changed into a black taffeta dress, but Harry wasn't surprised when the old lady put on an enormous wraparound apron. While Ross was upstairs washing, she carried in a tureen full of roast vegetables and Mrs. Bates set the meat up on a tray ready for him to carve.

  "Good evening, ladies." Jack arrived wearing black pants and a clean white shirt. "You've done us proud."

  Ross strode in sniffing appreciatively. He wore dark trousers with a braided side seam and a white evening shirt with pin tucks down the front. His hair was damp and slicked back, and he had also taken the time to shave. Harry couldn't stop staring at him.

  He opened a bottle of wine so the four of them could toast each other. Succulent juice oozed out of the meat as Ross carved it, the potatoes crunchy on the outside but fluffy and soft on the inside, were just the way she liked them.

  They ate in a leisurely fashion, Jack regaling them with stories of the characters he'd come across over the years, and she could not remember when she enjoyed a meal more. For sweets they tucked into sago pudding. While the men sipped their port, she helped Mrs. Bates clear the table and wash the dishes.

  When Harry returned to the parlor, Jack relaxed in a Brentwood rocking chair and Ross sprawled out in one of the winged chairs that matched the brown Chesterfield sofa. They both rose to their feet when she entered.

  "I think Mrs. Bates is ready to call it a day, poor old dear. I'll escort her back to the cottage," Jack offered.

  "I'm glad she's moving in here," Ross said. "I worry about her being alone at night. What if she fell over?"

  "Well, young Harry cleverly got her to agree to move back in here. Frightened of the dark." Jack gave a snort. "Anyone but Irma Bates would have known it was rot. I'll see her back and leave you young things together." He flicked them a salute before leaving.

  "Don't forget, early start tomorrow," Ross called out. "We've got a lot to do."

  Ross finally broke the silence that had settled over them. "I'm pleased with the way you got Mrs. Bates to move into the homestead, it kept her pride intact. I know she's not up to doing much in the house, that's why I think getting another woman to help out would be a good idea."

  "What's the point, there'll only be the two of us when you go. I can do anything she can't."

  "My wife is not a servant."

  "I won't be a servant. It will give me something to do. You'll make sure Jack doesn't let me work with the men."

  "Damn right I will. Go to bed." He forked his fingers through his hair.

  "What about you?"

  "I'll join you in a little while."

  "What's wrong with you?" she exploded. "This is our first night together as man and wife at Devil's Ridge. Don't you want me because I'm not beautiful like Virginia?"

  "You're being ridiculous."

  "Am I?"

  "Yes. I feel like having another port before bed."

  She stomped out of the room and slammed the door so hard the windows rattled. Stumbling up the stairs, she gulped back sobs.

  Why do I care so much? Why am I so desperate for his love?

  She undressed in quick, jerky movements. Dragging a nightgown out of the dresser drawer, she put it on, flung back the covers and blew out the lamp.

  Ross tiptoed into the room about ten minutes later, undressed in the dark and slid in beside her.

  "I'm sorry." He pulled her into his arms. "I've got a lot on my mind."

  "I love you so much. Why can't you love me?" she cried out in anguish, raining desperate kisses all over his face.

  He brushed her nightgown down over her shoulder so he could suckle her breast, heated delight surged through her. She slid her hands along his body, touching and caressing while he did likewise to her.

  Later as she lay in his arms, a terrible realization dawned. He hadn't made love to her, but had merely claimed his marital rights.

  "You didn't make love to me," she accused in a voice shrill with hurt.

  "Are you mad?"

  "Ever since you saw Virginia at the party you've been acting weird."

  "Rubbish."

  "Yes, you have." She lost control. "You still love Virginia. You've been making love to her," she yelled, demented with grief and jealousy. "That's why you don't want me."

  "I have not made love to Virginia." His voice sounded cold as forged steel. "You want a baby. I'm doing my best to give you one."

  She
nearly collapsed under the onslaught of such cruelty and a little piece of her heart died.

  He rolled out of bed, grabbed his pants and stalked out of the room.

  Harry turned her head and sobbed into the pillow. A good thing she couldn't move right now or she might have flung herself out the window. No, I wouldn't. She hugged her stomach. She would never destroy the life growing inside her. This baby would be her solace, because Ross did not love her, and Gil was dead.

  Sliding out of bed, she smoothed her nightgown down over her hips as she crept through the dressing room and into the nursery. Reaching the dresser she took out a rag doll Ross' mother had made for Eric, because everyone thought he would be a girl. Clutching the doll, she sat in a rocking chair and wept.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ross stalked out of the homestead. An old pair of boots lay on the verandah mat so he dragged them on. He trudged towards the pine plantation. As a young boy Eric had always gone here after an argument with their parents. He used to bury himself under the pine needles thinking no one could find him.

  Ross knew his secret hideout, but never let on to their parents, although they probably guessed. Once, when Eric stayed out all night, they all thought he had run away.

  "You could never get away from your big brother," he muttered. "I could always find you."

  What would Eric have made of Harry? He squatted on the ground, letting the pine needles dribble through his fingers. Eric had been scathing about Virginia, claiming she only wanted their money and property. She had married Clyde for his money like Harry said.

  Eric and Harry would have been kindred spirits. What a time the pair of them would have given him. Reckless, daring, afraid of nothing or no-one, but inside, their hearts were soft as marshmallow. This attribute had got Eric killed. He recklessly dashed back to save a mate who called out to him, when he had almost made it to the shelter of the cliffs.

  What lay in store for Harry? Heartache because she had fallen in love with the wrong man. A man still besotted by a woman who had cruelly betrayed him? Part of him hated Virginia for what she did, but the other part of him craved to have back what they had once shared.

  He stared unseeingly into the darkness, grappling with his ghosts. If he accepted what Virginia offered so blatantly, would that exorcise his demons, or would his craving become even greater? It was disloyal and filthy thinking such thoughts with Harry upstairs in their marital bed, crying her eyes out. She was his wife for God's sake, hopefully the mother of his child.

  He threw himself down on the ground. He wanted to weep for Eric and Gilbert who died, for Harry, broken hearted over his callous treatment, and for himself because he didn't know what to do. A slight breeze stirred the pine needles around him and a childish voice from long ago drifted in on the wind. "You'll never find me, Ross, you'll never find me."

  "Oh yes I will, Eric," he replied automatically as he had done so many times before.

  "I hear my mates calling me back," Gilbert kept saying.

  He trembled. Was there a bullet in France with his name on it? Would he leave Devil's Ridge never to return?

  Virginia belonged to his past. He must forget her. Harry was real, warm, alive and she needed him. So what if he wasn't madly in love with her? He genuinely liked her. Physically compatible, there was no reason why they could not find happiness together. A child would cement their relationship.

  Lightheaded with relief now he had sorted things out, he loped towards the homestead. Kicking off the old boots, he left them on the verandah, and silently crept inside. No need for a light, he knew every inch of the place, even in total darkness.

  Silence greeted him in the bedroom as he stepped out of his pants and climbed between the cool sheets. He put out a hand and the other side of the bed was empty. Fear, like nothing he had known before, squeezed the air from his lungs. In a cold sweat he jumped out of bed and raced towards the open window.

  The curtains rustled as he peered out into the darkness. The moonbeams washed over the garden beneath him, but nothing had been disturbed. He lit a lamp and carried it out into the passageway.

  He checked the spare bedrooms and they were all empty, so he started towards the stairs. The nursery door was shut and it whined slightly as he swung it open. He could have screamed with disappointment. He hesitated. Was there a slight movement of the rocking chair? He went around to the front of it and his heart constricted.

  Harry slept curled up in the chair, her white cheeks stained with tears, her bright head bent dejectedly as she clutched Eric's old rag doll. So sad and heartbreakingly beautiful, he wanted to weep for what he had done.

  He squatted down beside her and unclasped one of her hands. "Wake up, darling."

  She stirred, but buried her face in the doll.

  Using the connecting door to the dressing room, he took the lamp into the bedroom and placed it on the dresser. Going back into the nursery he picked Harry up and carried her back to bed. Leaning over he blew out the lamp and took her in his arms.

  "You can cuddle your husband, not some old rag thing," he whispered, pulling the doll out of her arms and tossing it on the floor.

  The night was warm, but Harry trembled with cold, as he massaged her through her nightgown, working his way slowly down the whole of her body. God, she was beautiful. Suddenly, he wanted her so badly he could not wait a moment longer. He rolled her on to her back and she stirred as he pushed her nightgown up so he could touch her bare skin.

  "Ross," she queried drowsily.

  "Yes. I'd kill any man who touched you like this. You're mine, Harry, mine, and I want you so bad it's killing me."

  She was awake now, he felt her stiffen away from him.

  "Harry, please."

  She pushed his hand away and sat up. "You don't have to touch me," she screamed. "There's no need for you to ever force yourself to touch me again."

  "Darling, what's wrong?"

  "Don't darling me," she yelled, beating at his chest. "You don't have to worry about trying to give me a baby anymore, it's too late."

  "Have you changed your mind, is that it? You don't want one?" Disappointment surged through him.

  "No, no," she yelled, punching his chest with all her might. "I'm already pregnant."

  "What! I mean, you are? I can't keep up with you. Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I planned to make a special meal for the two of us on your last night with candles and everything."

  "We can still have a romantic dinner for two."

  "You know now, so it's all spoilt."

  "No it's not, let me take your nightgown off, I want to make love to you."

  "You don't need to anymore. Didn't you understand what I said? You don't have to force yourself to touch me ever again!"

  "What have I done to you?"

  "You hurt me. You hurt me so bad I don't think I'll ever recover."

  The desolation in her voice, the pain of betrayal, smote his heart.

  "I'm so sorry. I've been a bloody fool. At this very moment I don't give a damn whether you're pregnant or not, I want you now. I need you. Don't turn me away. I swear I'll make it up to you."

  "If I'm dreaming all this, don't wake me up," she whispered. "I thought you hated me."

  "I've felt many things for you, but never hate. We'll talk later, my darling, suffice to say I've seen the light. Now, can I take your nightgown off?"

  "You want me, you really do?"

  He growled in his throat. "Touch me and you'll find out for yourself just how much I want you."

  Almost ripping the nightgown off in her eagerness, she went into his arms. What followed was pure magic.

  After they were both completely satiated, she asked drowsily, "What did you mean, you saw the light?"

  "I wandered down to the pine plantation, and I know it sounds crazy, but I heard Eric’s voice." He went on to tell her what happened.

  "You were upset, so maybe that's why you thought you heard your brother."

  "Isn't it strange, w
hile you held Eric's doll, I lay on the pine needles in his secret hiding place."

  She shivered. "Please, don't go over there. Those Germans will kill you. I know they will."

  "Sh." He ran the flat of his hand across her stomach. "How long have you known?"

  "I thought maybe I could have been a couple of days before we got married. There was no one to ask and I don't know much about these things."

  "You could have asked me." He absently rubbed her nipple with the flat of his thumb.

  "You would have known?"

  "Probably not."

  "Elsie knows all about it. She's the oldest of eight and she told me all the different symptoms. Now I think about it, I have all of them. I was tired all the time, I cried easily, felt sickly. You blamed all the stuff I ate at the circus, but it was because I'm having a baby."

  "I don't know about that." He pretended to be severe. "You ate enough to kill an ox. Go to sleep. I have to be up early to meet Jack."

  She stroked his cheek. "Could I come?"

  "No, you'll have to take things more quietly now, my love, and I'm definitely getting someone else to help around the house."

  "I'll be all right for a while. I don't want anyone else here. Elsie will probably come later if I ask her. She hates it at Littlejohn's place. Once Ted sails for France there will be nothing keeping her in Melbourne. I gave her five pound in case she wanted to come up here," she rattled on. "For the train fare."

  "Go to sleep, my sweet girl. Don't worry about getting me breakfast, I'll get my own."

  "No, I'll get up."

  She didn't though. When he crept out of bed she still slept. He pulled on his clothes and tiptoed downstairs. He wouldn't tell Jack about last night, because he'd call him crazy. In the cold light of day he wondered whether, in fact, he really had dreamed it all.

  Even more imperative for him to go into town now and tie up any loose ends. Harry would need access to money in case she needed to buy things for the baby. Heaps of stuff lay in the nursery, but he didn't have a clue whether it would be suitable or not.

  He finished his second cup of tea before Jack loped in.