by Lena Dowling
‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but, yes,’ Mr Biggs said ruefully, sitting down on the bench where he tugged on a pair of shoes that he had shined up special.
She watched him pull one on and then the other. She was grateful. He had come as good as a shining knight, riding in, swooping her up and carrying her away.
‘And I am, I’m real grateful for that. It’s just that I think — ’
‘Well don’t think. It never does any good ruminating over things.’ He paused holding out his arm out to her, and this time she walked over to him and took it. ‘The best thing is just to get on with it, and then you’ll find things have a way of taking care of themselves.’
That seemed to be the way of him, keeping everything buttoned up tight, ignoring things that really couldn’t be ignored, like his first wife who he didn’t like to talk about, and now her, his second wife in name only.
‘Bottle things up you mean?’ she said, as he took each step one at a time, waiting for her to arrange her dress to follow him so she didn’t trip up on the hem.
‘Sometimes. Yes. Some things are just best stowed away.’
She poked him in the arm with her free hand.
‘Until you bottle so much up, you pop the cork and are exploding all over the place.’
Mr Biggs coughed, his chest jiggling up and down trying to cover up a laugh.
‘Come on, we’ve got a wonderful meal to look forward to and I wager there’s going to be plenty of cake,’ he said steering her towards the big house.
‘Is that supposed to cheer me up?’
‘Yes, although you might want to avoid licking anything off your fingers. That would be something of a faux pas,’ he said, levelling her with a sideways grin.
She laughed and seized the moment, playfully dipping her head to nudge his shoulder.
‘I’ll try to remember that.’
‘Good evening Mr Biggs, Mrs Biggs, come in. I understand dinner is ready and Cook is anxious to begin with the serving,’ Thea said, after Liza had ushered them into the main room.
‘Rum, Biggs?’ James called from the sideboard.
‘Claret with dinner will be fine.’
‘James will stand in for a butler this evening.’ Lady Hunter laughed. ‘I haven’t managed to find anyone to fill that role out here. No one seems to have the first clue. Still it keeps things informal, which is so much better don’t you think?’ Thea stopped chuckling and leaned forward in Colleen’s direction, staring at her, making it clear that she should say something back in return — something short and polite like they had practiced over and over that afternoon.
‘Oh yes. Much better indeed, m’lady,’ Colleen said.
‘Please excuse me for a moment while I confer with Cook about the serving arrangements. James may be handy with the drinks, but I don’t think we can expect the master of the house to lay out the first course.’
Colleen laughed sweetly, careful not to overdo it, while Mr Biggs strolled around the room stopping at each picture on the wall.
This was her in a formal room about to have dinner with the daughter of an earl.
If anyone had tried to tell her, even a couple of weeks ago, that she would be friends with a toff, she would have laughed till her sides split.
She and Nell had polished furniture as fine as that laid out around her at the Mellwood’s, but tonight she wasn’t going to be shining it up with an old rag, as much as she would be polishing the seat with her very own ex-convict arse.
She wished Nell could have been a fly on the wall for this one. ‘Well, lah-dee-feckin’-dah,’ she would have said and stuck her nose in the air.
‘Could I offer you a sherry, Mrs Biggs?’ James said, breaking through her thoughts, striding towards her with a glass. Colleen’s mouth ran dry. She hadn’t seen James up this close up since the wedding. So far she had never found him so much alone she could nab him to make sure he wouldn’t say anything stupid, and if anyone else had been around when she spied him at one end of the farm, she made sure she was at the other, or if that wouldn’t work, turned tail and went back to the safety of their hut.
But there was no getting away from him now.
As James handed her the sherry he made a hasty glance back over his shoulder.
From the twitchy look of him he was fixing to say something.
She only hoped he wouldn’t.
But instead of opening his mouth to speak he put a finger to his lips and made a slow solemn shake of his head.
It took a moment for her to twig to what he was doing. She leaned out around James on one foot to check on Mr Biggs, and finding him studying one of James’ paintings, let herself back down and clapped her hand to her mouth shaking her head back the same way.
She had been all stirred up, making herself sick with worry about whether James could be trusted not to let her secret come meowing out of the bag, and then as easy as that, without having to say anything the promise between them was made.
Neither would ever speak a word of what had happened at O’Shane’s all those years ago.
Ever.
She all but downed the sherry in one and then lowering her eyes, she pushed past James, and gulping for air crossed the room, suddenly needing to have her husband near, to feel the quiet strength of him standing beside her.
Then, finally finding the wit to think of one of the things Thea had schooled her on, she said, ‘What a wonderful collection of paintings, Mr Hunter. Do take us through them and give us their prov…prov…’ she stumbled grasping to recall the word Thea had taught her.
‘Provenance?’ James said helpfully stepping up beside Mr Biggs to hand him a glass of wine.
‘Yes, your paintings’ provenance, that’s it.’
Mr Biggs turned from the picture he was looking at, to shoot her a look quizzical look but she met the question with a blank stare.
‘Yes indeed, James. I would be most obliged if you would. I recognise many, but not all of the artists. It is such a fine collection.’
She took Mr Biggs’ broad arm, gripping it tight as if she were a line about to spool away and his broad limb was the only thing anchoring her there, and despite being jumpy about having to get through a proper formal dinner, it was as if she could breathe properly again for the first time in days.
After Colleen’s baffling yet surprisingly appropriate request for a tour of the Hunter’s art collection, Samuel was pleased that James had indeed provided them with a most interesting précis of the paintings before her ladyship reappeared.
By the time Lady Hunter returned trailed by Liza the tour was complete. Her ladyship seated him opposite Colleen, which even taking into account the width of the impressive table, made it impossible for him not to stare at his wife.
When she was out of her ugly prison uniform there was much about her physical presence that was attractive but now, forced to regard her across the table, he realised she wasn’t merely a collection of appealing traits or the sum of them. She was beautiful.
Colleen had worn her proper dress, the one she had on at their wedding, and even though the dress was modest, he saw now that it was cut all wrong for her, revealing the outline of her figure as a perfectly elongated hourglass. Too tight, it moulded to spectacular breasts, and her hair, barely contained with the few hairpins, framed her creamy neck with a cascade of escaping shorter locks.
Samuel pulled at his cuffs then pushed a finger down and swiped it around under his collar. He was too warm and his evening clothes, once a tight fit, now hung off him, the collar and cuffs chafing at his wrists and neck.
Yet despite his bodily discomfort, and being forced to admire his wife, framed like a life-sized oil between the silver candelabra, Samuel was relieved. At least for tonight, the first night since he had completely lost his head with her, he would not be taking his evening meal with Colleen alone.
And Colleen was trying very hard to do and say all the right things at the right time, minding her p’s and q’s.
&n
bsp; She was even keeping her more colourful phrases to a minimum, doing her best, although not always succeeding, in responding to questions in grammatically correct sentences. In general, she spoke only when spoken to, and kept up with the etiquette around the table, managing to pick up the correct glass and cutlery at the right time.
Social niceties that Amelia, with her education and natural grace would have handled with ease. Samuel had been prepared to have to turn a blind eye to Colleen’s inevitable struggles with social convention and to make sweeping allowances for her, but he was surprised and not a little impressed to find he was having to make very few.
Tonight, he thought uneasily, it was as if Colleen was a woman transformed.
As Liza had cleared away the last of the plates, he and James made themselves comfortable further down the room in the area set aside for James’s study and the women disappeared altogether.
While James attempted to update Samuel on the subtleties of colonial politics, most of which was lost on him, strains of female chattering floated in through the open windows from the garden, when he caught sight of the women, solving the mystery of where they had retired to.
Samuel was vaguely aware that James had said something, but with the women’s hands clasped together, they giggled like girls sharing some excitement, and Lady Hunter leaned in lifting a lock of his wife’s chestnut hair, exposing a delicate pearl-like earlobe and the smooth curve of her neck. Samuel sat ensnared, unable to drag his eyes away, even though he was vaguely aware that James was now prodding him for a response.
‘What, I beg your pardon? My apologies,’ Samuel said. ‘I was momentarily distracted.’
‘It’s good to see our respective wives getting along so well, don’t you think?’
‘Ah, yes, very good,’ Samuel said, wishing the women could find another way to establish their friendship without creating such an intimate scene.
‘You sound as if you have reservations,’ James said, ‘And you shouldn’t. Irrespective of her background, Colleen will be accorded the respect she deserves as your wife,’ James said, misinterpreting Samuel’s reserve as concern for the gaping social chasm between Colleen and Lady Hunter.
‘Not at all, James, I’m sure it will be to our mutual benefit if our wives find consolation in each other’s company,’ Samuel replied, re-establishing a surreptitious eye on the ladies with the assistance of his peripheral vision.
‘Yes indeed.’
Colleen said something that made both women laugh and Lady Hunter hugged his wife so enthusiastically that he wondered at the nature of the sensation of two sets of breasts pressed so tightly against one another.
He closed his eyes for a second but that only made matters worse as he imagined where the women’s hands, clasped around each other, might be tempted to wander next.
Good God. What had gotten in to him? He was indulging in the infantile fantasies of a schoolboy. He wasn’t himself tonight. He had thought that having the Hunters as chaperones for the evening, and with the ladies going their own way after dinner, that things would be better, but they had just taken a turn for the worse. Much, much worse.
Samuel dabbed at his brow with his handkerchief. He was overwrought, that was all; knocked off balance by his impulsiveness the night before, but he had caught himself in time. It wasn’t as if the action was irreparable.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, but by that time the women were gone.
‘Would you like to join me Samuel?’
‘Join you where?’
‘You really are most distracted this evening, aren’t you Biggs? As I was saying it will soon be dusk, and with this oppressive heat I suspect Thea has taken the new Mrs Biggs to accompany her for a swim. I like to go along to the watering hole if I can, to patrol the perimeter as it were. It’s Hunter land for acres in every direction, but one never knows.’
Women swimming?
Samuel was scarcely able to believe what he had heard.
‘Lady Hunter swims? You allow this? Good Lord, James. I know things are different amongst the upper echelons. One rule for them and one for the rest of us, and the environment out here is distinctly more informal, but really!’
Biggs was unable to disguise his mortification. James’ wife was headstrong and wilful, but so far it appeared that he had appreciated only less than half of what the woman was capable.
‘I do allow it, I’m afraid.’
‘Why on earth?’
‘It amuses her and therefore it amuses me.’
Samuel moved towards the window to peer out into the garden, hoping that the women had only moved out of his immediate line of sight to some further corner of the garden and had not, as James suggested, already departed to the watering hole.
James could do what he liked when it came to Lady Hunter, but where his own wife was concerned, he would most certainly forbid it.
But when he looked again the women were indeed gone. No doubt headed for the dam that supplied the property with water, with James quite obviously disinclined to stop them.
Samuel’s initial astonishment converted to anger as he considered that Lady Hunter was calling the shots, dragging his own wife along with her, while James indulged her fancies.
Heat burned Samuel’s face, his heart rate dramatically increasing in speed as he tried to override the urge to reprimand his employer and insist on the appropriate limits to be placed on his wife’s activities.
So far he knew hardly anyone in this new country and he was only too aware how reliant he was on James, but irrespective of the necessity of having a job and a roof over his head, Lady Hunter was out of control. James needed to be made to see it.
‘Sir, I’m sorry to have to say this, but Lady Hunter she’s — ’ Samuel’s voice wavered as he struggled to rein himself in one last time and avoid the disgrace of denigrating his employer’s wife.
‘Unique,’ James said smiling before Samuel could finish. ‘You might say this swimming business was part of the bride price — a bargain I made with Lady Hunter before we were married. While it may be unorthodox, it causes no great problems at this time of the evening, out here in the country away from prying eyes, and she generally returns from her swim, how can I put this, refreshed and rather convivially disposed.’
‘I see.’
Samuel steadied himself by gripping the window frame. The thought of Colleen refreshed and convivially disposed was something he would rather not contemplate.
‘We should go, the ladies will no doubt already be on their mounts and on their way to the pond.’
Samuel reluctantly followed James out the back of the Hunter residence, in the general direction of Samuel’s own cabin. Rounding the building, the stable doors flew open, James’ steed bursting through. For a moment, Samuel thought the horse had worked its way out of its stall and bolted, but then he made out the two women riding the horse bareback. Colleen clung on to Lady Hunter who held the reins, their hair hanging loose, flying in the breeze. Despite the fading light, the wind lashed the fabric of their gowns, giving Samuel an even clearer outline of his new wife’s stunning figure.
He swallowed hard.
‘Ye Gods.’
‘Hmm,’ James said, eyeing him as he scratched his chin. ‘Let’s fetch some horses and go down to the dam, shall we. It would seem to have been a case of first to the stable, best mounted.’
‘Yes,’ Samuel agreed. The sooner they got down to the pond and he could put a stop this nonsense the better.
It was a pleasant enough evening, if a little too sultry for complete comfort. Samuel would rather have set out at a gallop, but James set a leisurely speed. Bound by politeness Samuel brought his horse in step, fighting the urge to take his mount up to a faster pace.
Most of the birdlife native to the area had a tendency to screech as opposed to sing, but the great majority had finally ceased their caterwauling for the day. If it weren’t for his state of mind, he might have enjoyed their evening jaunt but in the circumstances
that was impossible. At the rate James was allowing his horse to meander they might not make it before the women stripped off their clothes and entered the pond.
The only consolation he could derive from the situation was that the women were heading deep into Hunter lands where they were unlikely to be observed. The fact that in the fading light there would soon be little to be seen at all, gave him some further cause for comfort.
James stopped on a grassy mound that afforded a good view of the pond where they dismounted, allowing the horses to graze.
It was too late.
The women were already in the water. Stripped down to their chemises, the rest of their clothes were strewn about, hanging over bushes that bordered the watering hole.
They frolicked in waist high water, splashing and shrieking as if they had rediscovered their girlhood, their thin shifts translucent against their bodies.
Samuel would normally have been embarrassed beyond belief to view another man’s wife in such a state of undress, but in a natural setting with the dimming light of the sun he could concede it made for a rather pleasant if unsettling picture.
Not that there was anything covetous in his appraisal of her ladyship, his eyes barely skimmed her. It was Colleen he couldn’t tear his eyes from. Colleen’s breasts were fuller, and her figure was more favourably curved, her hair, a luxurious mass of dark tresses flowing down her back undulating over her ample rump before disappearing into the water.
‘Well, well, it would seem the adage that a man cannot truly judge a horse until it’s blanket is removed has some basis in fact,‘ James said, nudging him in the arm with his elbow.
Samuel turned and levelled a glare at him.
‘Really, James.’
‘I was only joking, man. Things are different out here, that’s all.’
‘So I keep being told, but I don’t believe that they should be so different that normal standards of morality and decency may be abandoned.’
Samuel turned his back determined he should view no more of the scene that threatened to, if not undo, then seriously fray the edges of his most emphatic resolutions.
