by Bonnie Leon
Lydia held out a basket. “I brought soup, fresh bread, and peach jam. Thought ye might like some when ye were feeling better, which it seems ye are.” She moved up the steps, setting the basket on the table.
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” John lifted the cloth protecting the contents of the basket and peered inside. “Thank you. I’m hungry. And I think my throat will accommodate a meal.” He smiled and sat back, looking weary and pallid.
“I’d invite you in,” Hannah said, “but as you said, you don’t dare, not yet. The house will need a good scrubbing.”
John looked up at Hannah. “You go along and have a visit. It’s time you did something other than look after me.”
Lydia eyed John and then Hannah. A knowing smile played at her lips. Hannah didn’t like it. She knew Lydia could see the love between them.
“John, would you like to eat first?” she asked.
“I can manage on my own, thank you. I think I’ll try the bread and preserves.”
“Well, let me get you a knife and spoon, then.” Hannah quickly retrieved the items, and then she and Lydia started down the steps. “I’ll be close if you need me.” She turned and looked at him. She’d not let him out of her sight for days, and now it didn’t feel right to leave him on his own. What if he were to relapse suddenly? “Are you sure there’s nothing you need?”
“I’m fine right here in the shade where I can look out over the farm. It’s good to be outdoors.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It smells good too, like roasting chestnuts.”
“That’s the sun cooking the fields,” Lydia teased. “Ye better be praying for rain.”
“It will come. I have no doubt.” Peace emanated from John. Hannah understood. When death comes close, life is more precious. And when love is lost, one holds it more dear.
She moved down the steps and linked arms with Lydia. They strolled toward the river. “I’m glad you came. I’ve needed you.”
“Ye look a bit done in. And John, I can see he’s been through an ordeal.”
Hannah took in an uneven breath. “For a time, I thought he would die.” She glanced back at the house. “He’s lost to me, but I’m grateful for his life.”
Lydia placed a hand over Hannah’s. “I can see that ye still love each other. My heart breaks for ye both.” Her eyes turned hard and she squared her jaw. “Margaret doesn’t deserve him.”
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t matter, not really. She’s his wife.”
“A loving wife would have been here to take care for her husband.”
“We’ve no reason to doubt her love. There are a number of reasons that would explain her absence. We ought to be praying for her. Especially if she’s ill. I’ve seen how dreadful this disease is.” She shuddered. “It’s horrid.”
“I’ve word she’s fine and in the company of a man named Weston Douglas.”
“Who told you such a thing?”
“People come in and out of the store—they talk.”
“I thought David had banned you from the apothecary and his office.”
“That’s true. But he hired a woman to oversee when he’s gone. She’s friendly with people and she hears a lot.”
“It’s just gossip and you shouldn’t listen,” Hannah said, although her own curiosity was piqued. Was there something behind the rumor?
Lydia steered Hannah toward a tree at the river bank. “Mrs. Stevens came in to get medicine for her husband’s gout, and she said that a man who works for them had seen Margaret.”
“And what does he know about her?” Hannah didn’t know why she was defending the woman, except that she couldn’t bear to discover that she was deceitful. John had suffered too much already. It could devastate him.
“Word gets out ’bout people. She’s new here, and I’ll admit a bit striking in appearance, and there’s always talk ’bout a newcomer. Plus everyone knows what happened to ye and John because of her.”
“I daresay, people are quick to gossip and such talk can’t be trusted. Did this man see Margaret with this Mr. Douglas?”
“Indeed he did. And he said they seemed quite friendly toward each other.”
Against her will, suspicion grew in Hannah. What if Margaret was unfaithful to John? But why would she do such a thing? John was noble and handsome, and he owned a fine piece of property. She turned to Lydia and challenged, “If Margaret doesn’t love John, then why would she travel all the way from England? I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“People don’t always have reasons for the things they do, we’ve lived long enough to know that.” Lydia’s eyes glinted with mischief. “If she is up to no good, I’d like to see her get what’s coming to her.”
“Lydia. You’ve decided she’s guilty of some sort of evil, when you’ve no idea if anything you’ve heard is true or not. If she was seen with a Mr. Douglas, there’s no reason to assume she’s done something wrong. He could be a business acquaintance.”
Lydia threw her arms down, slapping the side of her skirt. “Why won’t you believe any of this? I’d think you’d be glad for it. If she’s straying, that would be grounds for divorce. And then you and John could—”
“No. I will not wish heartache on John so that I can be happy.” Feeling abysmal, Hannah moved to a gum tree and leaned against its smooth bark. It felt cool in the heat. “He’s suffered enough, as have I.”
Lydia plucked a stem of dried grass and, standing beside Hannah, pressed her back to the tree. She stared at the slow-moving river. “I don’t want John hurt, but I do want life to be fair to him and to you. And it’s not been.” She turned her green eyes on Hannah. “I’ve watched ye be strong and noble. And I’ve admired ye for being so, but that doesn’t make any of this right. And what if Margaret is up to no good . . . if she escapes the consequences of her misdeeds, it will only cause more injury.” She twirled the dry grass between her fingers. “And I’ve had some worries . . . that she might even wish some kind of harm toward John.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know that she’s done anything, but what if she’s come for reasons we know nothing about?”
“Lydia, you can’t throw out accusations with no basis.”
Lydia was quiet for a long moment. “I just have a feeling is all.” She shrugged. “I think she’s wicked.”
“Until there’s proof of wrongdoing, it’s falderal. And I won’t bring more hardship to John or Margaret because of a feeling and a few gossips.” Without looking at Lydia, she added, “I’m not unhappy. Thomas and I have a fine life.”
“Yes. But one without John.” Lydia stepped in front of Hannah. “I know you love him.”
“I do. And I thank you for caring about me, but a vendetta will not help. To do evil for self-gain will only bring more heartache.” Hannah looked back at the house. John’s chin rested on his chest. He’d fallen asleep. “I’ll always love John. And because I do, I’ll not interfere.” She gripped Lydia’s forearms firmly. “Please, let this go.”
Lydia frowned. “But what if this Mr. Douglas turns out to be someone suspicious, what then?”
“If such is the case, then I shall consider what to do.”
“You should go to Sydney Town and find out more ’bout him.”
Hannah blew out a breath of frustration. “And what am I looking for?”
“Just see who he is, why he’s in Sydney Town. If he’s a legitimate businessman . . . well, then perhaps Margaret has good cause to spend time with him.”
A breeze cooled Hannah’s hot skin and teased her hair. She studied Lydia. She’d always been a reasonable person, not given to flights of fancy. Perhaps her feelings now were valid. She turned her gaze to the river. If Lydia was right, John should know.
“All right. I’ll go.”
17
Hannah stood in the doorway of the Atherton study, trying to think of the best way to approach Catharine about making a trip into Sydney Town. She was embarrassed to even speak of her i
ntentions, afraid she’d sound as if she were meddling and that she’d be seen as someone trying to fulfill personal desires. She wasn’t even certain she trusted her motives. Was it possible she wanted to believe something was wrong because she longed for the life she’d once had with John?
Catharine looked up from her writing. “Oh Hannah, dear. How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long. I didn’t want to intrude.”
She set her pen aside. “Please, come in.”
Still wondering how to explain what she wanted, Hannah approached Catharine. “You look busy. Perhaps I should come another time.”
“No. I’m just writing a letter.”
“Oh.” Hannah glanced at the letter, knowing she was putting off her request.
“I’m writing to the governor, hoping to convince him to provide better care for prisoners. Those poor souls, they live in such appalling conditions. Sometimes I lie awake thinking about them. I do want to help.”
“You already do so much. I’ve been a recipient, remember?”
“I do indeed.”
“It’s not just the food and clothes you provide, it’s your tender way, the love you offer the women. When I think on it, I can feel it still.”
Catharine’s expression turned gentle. “Thank you.” She pressed her hands on either side of the letter. “I’ve written to the governor three times, without success. I thought that if I pestered him enough, he might make some changes, especially in the food and by offering more physician care and bathing.”
“Perhaps this letter will make a difference.” Hannah remembered—filth, rats, inedible food, disease—conditions had been frightful, especially at the Female Factory. “I always believed gaols were for the wicked. But so many of those locked away are decent people who simply fell upon hard times or have been unjustly accused.”
“Indeed. Your offense was not deserving of prison. Stealing a loaf of bread is hardly cause for fourteen years transportation.”
“I was also accused of stealing a silver chalice.”
“Unjustly accused. Judge Walker should have been placed in the stocks for what he did.”
Hannah stifled a shudder at the thought of her former employer, but had to smile at the idea of the judge being constrained in the stocks. “I would like to have seen that,” she said.
“Now then, what is it you needed, dear?”
She met Catharine’s kind eyes, suddenly remembering why she’d come. “I have need of a few days leave, if it’s not an imposition. Especially since I was with John for several days.”
“No imposition. What is it that requires your attention? Is everything all right? You’re not ill are you?”
“No. Nothing like that.” Hannah searched her mind, wishing there were some way to explain a trip to Sydney Town that didn’t include spying on Mr. Douglas. “I’ve no real need, mum.”
“And you’ve no need to be so formal with me. We’re friends, remember.”
“Yes. I remember. It’s just that since I’ve returned to your employ, it feels disrespectful to call you by your Christian name.”
“It’s not at all.” She looked at Hannah with affection. “It would please me if you referred to me as Catharine.” She slid the unfinished letter to the side and clasping her hands in front of her, she leaned on the desk. “Now then, how much time shall you need?”
“I’m not certain, perhaps three days, possibly four. Just enough to drive to Sydney Town, complete some business, and then a day’s travel back.”
Catharine studied Hannah as if waiting for further explanation.
“I have some things to attend to,” Hannah said, knowing she ought to add more details. She stared at her feet before continuing. “There have been rumors . . . about Margaret. It’s possible she may be here on false pretenses. Lydia has convinced me of the wisdom of looking into Margaret’s circumstances.”
Catharine’s back straightened, making her taller in the chair. “What do you mean by false pretenses? Whatever reason can Margaret have other than the one stated?”
“It seems she’s been seen in the company of a man, a Mr. Weston Douglas. And while John was abed, she spent several days in Sydney Town.”
“And you see it as your responsibility to see what she’s been doing?”
“Not exactly.” Hannah could feel Catharine’s disapproval. “I’d rather it wasn’t me, but I suppose someone ought to see that she has John’s best interests at heart.”
“In light of the rumors, that may be, but I’m not at all certain it should be you.”
“I care more about him than anyone.”
“That’s my concern. You care too dearly to be evenhanded. Your affection for him complicates the situation.” Her kind expression deepened. “I worry about you. If you were to make an error in judgment, I know you’d take it to heart and carry the burden of guilt.”
“All you say is true and so I will go with caution. If Lydia were to explore this further, her loyalty to me would cloud her vision—in fact, anyone who cares for me will be prejudiced. For that reason I’m the only one who can seek the truth with pure motives. I have John’s best interests at heart, not my own.”
Catharine met Hannah’s gaze squarely. “Are you sure of that?”
Hannah was taken off guard by Catharine’s directness. “I can’t be completely certain, but I will do my best not to let my emotions tread upon the truth.”
“I know you will do your best. But guard your heart, dear.”
“I will,” Hannah said, and added, “Lydia will be traveling with me.”
Catharine gave a wry smile. “Beware. She has loyalties for you, as you said.”
“Yes, but I have need of support. Her presence will bolster my courage. But I promise you, I’ll not presume anything simply because Lydia has an opinion.”
Catharine nodded. “I trust you. You’re a wise young woman. And of course you have my permission to go. And please take the carriage. It’s more comfortable than a wagon or buggy. And make certain Dalton goes with you. I’ll not have you and Lydia traveling all that way unattended. There are dangers on the road—highwaymen and such. In light of the aboriginal raid that took place at the Johnsons’ recently, I’d feel more at ease with him accompanying you.”
“Of course,” Hannah said, but couldn’t imagine Dalton being of much help in the face of a skirmish. He was much too dignified. “I shan’t be gone more than four days at most.”
“Take whatever time you need.” Catharine picked up her pen. “I’ll keep you in my prayers. And I do hope you find the truth. It’s time you left the past and moved forward with your life. Perhaps this will help.”
“Thank you.” Hannah turned and walked out of the study, feeling the sharpness of a reprimand, although she was certain Catharine meant no reproof. Still, Hannah knew it was time to leave John to his new life and to go on with her own.
I shouldn’t be going to Sydney Town at all, she told herself, but she knew she would go because she must.
“It was kind of Mrs. Atherton to let us use the carriage,” Lydia said, leaning out the window and watching the river flow past. A front wheel bounced through a rut, followed by the back, tossing the women off their seats. Lydia laughed and tidied her hat. “I say, the baby is getting a good jostling.”
“Truly,” Hannah said, protectively resting a hand on her abdomen. She hoped the rough roadway was in no way harmful to her child. “The road is deplorable. Perhaps we should have waited and taken the barge.”
“We’d have had to wait another three days. What if that Mr. Douglas were to leave?”
“If so, then we most likely will have no reason to investigate him. If something were going on between him and Margaret, he’d no doubt stay in town.”
“We shall know soon enough.”
Hannah’s mind turned to the possibilities. What if the rumors were true? What would she do then? She couldn’t rein in hopeful thoughts of life on the farm—her, John, Thomas, and the baby.
/> “Hannah, where’ve ye gone to? Ye look as if yer a hundred miles away.”
“I’m here, but wishing I weren’t. I find this whole business deplorable. Sneaking about spying on someone feels criminal. And it’s not right to go behind John’s back. What if he finds out and believes I’m being vindictive?”
“He’ll only hear of it if we discover something he ought to know. In that case, we’ll tell him ourselves and he’ll be thanking ye for looking out for him. I’ve no doubt he’d much rather be sharing his life with ye instead of her anyway.”
“You don’t know that. He once loved her very much. Perhaps he still does.”
With disdain, Lydia puffed air through her lips. “I doubt that’s the case. He’s still in love with ye, Hannah. Ye know that. He’s got no reason to think yer being vindictive. In truth, ye’ve done yer best to be fair to Margaret. And honestly, it’s getting a bit annoying. She doesn’t deserve yer kindness.”
“Until there’s proof of wrongdoing, she deserves respect, especially mine. I know how difficult this has been, not just for me but for her as well.”
Lydia shook her head. “There’s wrongdoing here. I know it.”
“Have you never been mistaken about someone?”
“No one is right all the time, but I’ve a feeling and I trust it.” She looked at Hannah straight on. “And if I am right, then we have cause to worry ’bout John.”
“I fear what it might do to him. He’s suffered so much already.”
Lydia cooled herself with a fan. “This heat is unbearable.” Staring at a man leading a milk cow, she asked, “Did ye find out why Margaret was in Sydney Town when John was sick?”
“Thomas said she’d made purchases for him and for John and that she’d had a dress fitting.”
“And that’s all?” She stopped fanning herself.
“He mentioned something about a friend.”
“A friend? Indeed. How convenient. And was that friend’s name Douglas?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.” Hannah shook her head. “You’re being unfair.”
“Perhaps. But I doubt that she’d spend time with a friend when her husband is deathly ill.”
