‘I’m asking you now,’ said Daniel. ‘And as for Adam, helping with field trips is part of his job.’
‘Well, you don’t need me then, do you?’ Belle rode off, spurring Whisky into a gallop up the waterfall track.
‘I believe she’s jealous,’ said Daniel. ‘Remember your first days at school?’
As if he could forget. They were burned into his memory.
‘Belle was jealous of you then, at first. But she came round. Shame we can’t tell her who you really are.’
More than a shame. An agony. He tried not to look too often into Belle’s green eyes, for fear that she would finally recognise him. He did not always succeed.
Daniel called Bear over and strapped a fully laden pack on his back. The dog barely noticed the weight. He was a handy packhorse in ridge country too steep and thickly timbered for riding.
‘I’ve solved the mystery of where he came from,’ said Daniel. ‘When we imported Sasha from England, five other Newfoundlands arrived with her. It seems your Bear was mistakenly left behind on the wharf and stolen overnight. He’s from champion stock, a valuable animal. There’s a handsome reward for his return.’
Luke put a protective hand on Bear’s collar. ‘He’s mine now.’
‘No argument there,’ said Daniel. ‘He’d have been well insured, and anyone who’d forget about a magnificent dog like this doesn’t deserve him.’
Luke tried to imagine his dog roaming the tame English countryside he’d seen in pictures, and failed. Bear’s home was these rugged highlands. He belonged to wild Tasmania now.
‘Come on,’ said Daniel. ‘We’ve got work to do.’
These excursions transported Luke instantly back to childhood. At the end of the day, he almost expected to wave goodbye and go home to his parents and sister. ‘I’ve written a letter to my family,’ Luke told Daniel shortly after he arrived at Binburra. ‘Saying that I’m here and I’m safe. Will you send it please?’
A shadow crossed Daniel’s face. ‘One letter, yes, but only to tell them you’re well, not where you are. Remember you’re a fugitive. Home is the first place the law will look. So much easier for your family if they genuinely know nothing of your whereabouts.’
Hard as it was to hear, this advice made sense. Protecting his loved ones meant everything. Still, one letter would be enough to lay their fears to rest. Enough to bring peace to a bereft mother. Enough to make a father glow with joy and pride. The thought sent a warm flush through him. Luke closed his eyes for a moment, imagining his father’s face when Mama read him the letter. Each dear feature was etched so clearly in his memory, he felt as if he could almost reach out and touch him.
‘I’ll keep writing letters, though,’ he said, grinning. ‘Even if I can’t send them. Even if Papa can’t read them.’
Daniel rubbed his forehead and then lowered his head. The silence hung heavy between them.
Luke’s smile slowly died. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I should have told you . . .’
‘Told me what?’
Why wouldn’t Daniel meet his eye? A mounting fear snatched at Luke’s heart. He’d never seen his teacher so grave.
‘It’s your father. I’m afraid . . .’ Daniel looked up, his expression that of infinite warmth and compassion. It was far more frightening than his bowed head had been. ‘I’m afraid he’s dead.’
‘Dead?’ It made no sense. Papa was still young, in the prime of life. A powerful bull of a man. Luke couldn’t recall him ever being sick, not once. Men like that didn’t die. ‘When?’
‘Some time ago.’
Luke struggled to understand. ‘And you are certain of this, completely certain?’
Daniel pressed his lips together in a way that left no doubt.
‘How?’
‘A horse-riding accident.’
Luke heard himself gasp. That could do it. A fall could kill any man, even a man like his father. Tears flooded his eyes, leaked down his cheeks. Poor Mama. Poor Becky. Daniel seemed to be talking, but Luke couldn’t hear through the rush of blood in his ears. Dreams of one day returning to his old life? They were just that – dreams.
Luke sank to the ground. A moment later Daniel joined him. They stayed like that for the longest time. Through his fog of grief Luke felt strong arms wrap around him.
‘I cannot take your father’s place, Luke, but know this. I care for you like a son. You have a family here . . . always.’
These precious words soothed like butter on a burn. His old life was gone. His father was gone, but, by some miracle, he still had his teacher. Binburra was more important now than ever – his sanctuary, the one place he belonged.
It was a wrench then, at the end of each day, to leave Binburra and make the arduous trek back to his lonely shack. Daniel often urged him to stay. ‘Sleep in the shearers’ quarters, or have a room in the house if you’d rather.’
Yet Luke never stayed. His excuse was having to feed the little devils, but he also wanted to conceal Bear’s vanishing act at night. One afternoon, when he lingered later than usual chopping wood, the dog took off without him. Luke hurried home, and spent a sleepless night wondering if Bear would find his way back to the hut. The dog showed up as usual the next morning, but not unscathed. A bullet had grazed his hip.
Luke shuddered as he washed and cleaned the wound. What would happen if one morning he wasn’t there for Bear when he came home? Would the dog’s wild nature claim him? Would he melt into the forest, throwing his lot in with the doomed tigers? With hunters swarming the hills, their death was just a matter of time.
Tying up the dog proved useless. Even when he fastened him securely, he couldn’t stand Bear’s distress and inevitably freed him. Luke was bound to the hut as surely as he’d once been bound by prison walls. It was maddening.
And then there was Belle. He’d been sure she’d recognise him. It hit him hard when that didn’t happen, but the truth was that he barely recognised her either. They’d both changed so much. She’d grown from a skinny child into a stunning beauty, with flashing green eyes and the body of a woman. And no matter what he did or didn’t do, said or didn’t say, she remained implacably set against him.
His refusal to sell Bear hadn’t helped. Daniel made offers, each more generous than the last, willing to part with a small fortune in order to please his daughter. But friends weren’t for sale. Luke hoped that Belle wouldn’t ask him for Bear herself. He would hate saying no to her. As time went on, he realised he needn’t have worried. Belle barely acknowledged his existence. However, she did take every opportunity to steal Bear, luring him with pats and treats and walks. The dog was a willing truant, enjoying being spoiled and playing with the increasingly coquettish Sasha.
Belle’s animosity towards him cut deep. How could he get through to her without revealing who he was?
Late spring sunshine broke through the clouds. Luke was cutting fence rails, and Daniel was digging post-holes beside him. Unlike most gentlemen farmers, he enjoyed getting his hands dirty and often pitched in with the chores. They looked up as Elizabeth came down the path towards them carrying their lunch in a basket.
Daniel dropped his spade. ‘What’ve we got today, Lizzie?’
Luke laid down tools and washed his hands in a tin drum of water, placed to catch drips from the shearing shed roof. Lately it seemed to do nothing but rain. How he longed to swap his long walks and leaky hut for a cosy little room at the homestead.
Daniel had finally convinced him to bring the baby devils to Binburra, so they were building them a secure enclosure. A hollow log filled with hay in the corner of the shed served as a snug den and the wire-netting run would allow them to safely explore outside.
Elizabeth admired their handiwork. ‘Don’t forget we’re having dinner at the Mitchells’ tonight. Hope the weather holds. We must leave by five. Remind Belle if you see her.’
Luke and Daniel sat down in the sun to eat, their backs against the warm tin shed. Luke looked about for Bear, thi
nking to share his sandwiches. The big dog was gone again. Probably off somewhere with Belle. He was getting jealous of that dog. If only he could remind Belle of their childhood friendship. It was a connection he craved.
‘Another damned dinner party,’ said Daniel. ‘I suppose Belle must have her friends.’
Luke suddenly wished he could go to the party. Spend time with people his own age, have some fun. You’re a fool, he told himself, and banished the impossible idea from his mind.
After lunch, as they put the finishing touches on the devil run, Belle arrived with the two Newfoundlands trotting ahead of her, tails waving. Bear’s handsome coat was washed, combed and trimmed. Belle pointed to the new pen. ‘What’s this?’
Her father told her about the devils, and how she must help him keep meticulous records of their progress. The prospect of raising the little orphans captivated her, and she couldn’t resist interrogating Luke. Where did you get them? How old are they? Do they have names? What do they eat? Can you pat them? He answered all her questions as accurately as he could, delighted she was talking to him. His voice was low and respectful, but he couldn’t stop staring. How beautiful she was. Belle blushed and turned to hide it. Too late. It was the most charming thing he’d ever seen.
Daniel didn’t seem to notice. ‘Your mother asked me to remind you about dinner at Grace’s tonight.’
‘Will the Abbotts be there?’ asked Belle.
Luke frowned and went back inside the shed, picking up his tools. How he hated Belle having anything to do with the Abbotts. His sister’s bloody, tear-drenched face appeared before him. Daniel clearly didn’t know about the rape or he’d never allow his daughter near the man. Should he tell him? Surely four years was long enough to keep Becky’s secret?
CHAPTER 15
‘Whatever’s wrong with Adam?’ asked Belle, staring after him. ‘He’s a very strange person, Papa.’
‘Leave the boy alone,’ said Daniel. ‘Perhaps he has a set against the Abbotts for some reason. Lord knows I do.’
Belle smarted at the rebuke, feeling the sharp sting of tears in her eyes. She retreated with Sasha to the upstairs verandah, her favourite thinking spot, with its stunning view of Binburra’s ranges. She wished Papa would get along with the Abbotts. Henry’s son, eighteen-year-old Edward, was Belle’s firm friend. It was to him she turned when small-town life threatened to smother her. Edward always understood. Giving their chaperones the slip, they’d lie by the duck pond or hide in the conservatory, planning the exciting lives they’d lead.
‘I’ll join the Navy,’ said Edward. ‘Explore the coasts of Africa and India, maybe discover whole new countries.’
‘I’ll sail to Europe,’ said Belle. ‘Live in Paris, study at la Sorbonne . . . Graduate in botany and biology, earn the eternal admiration of my father . . . then marry a struggling zoologist of whom Mama thoroughly disapproves.’
‘I’ll become a zoologist then,’ offered Edward.
‘No. You must marry an exotic African princess, swathed in gold jewellery, with a diamond-encrusted bone through her nose.’
Belle loved their talks. She cared for Edward like a brother. It upset her that Papa had no time for him, and for no better reason than that he didn’t like his father. Granted, Sir Henry was an arrogant man. Contemptuous of his wife. Hard on Edward, his youngest child and only son. Dismissive of his daughters, who’d been sent to England to find suitable matches and married off as soon as they were of age. He was unpleasant, but as far as Belle knew, Henry had done nothing to hurt their family. Why, then, did Papa despise him so? His hatred seemed almost personal.
Sasha pricked her ears and trotted to the railing. From their vantage point they could see Adam trudging out the gate with Bear at his side. Why didn’t he bunk in the old shearers’ quarters or the cart shed like their other farmhands? He must have some reason to make the long trek into town each night. A girl?
Adam and Bear had almost disappeared from sight when she saw them veer off the beaten track and turn west, straight into the forest. There was nothing in that direction, no settlement – no human habitation of any kind. How odd. She watched for a long time, but they didn’t return to the road. Where were they going?
Her mother called from downstairs. ‘Hurry and change please, Belle.’
Belle enjoyed social evenings, but she hated dressing for them. Millie, their housemaid, doubled as a lady’s maid on such occasions, dutifully laying out her young mistress’s clothes in the bedroom. Belle grimaced at the blue velvet dinner dress, with its wide bell-shaped sleeves and elaborately draped skirt. She absolutely refused to wear a corset, a decision her mother supported, although she still wore one herself. She said she liked her fashionable twenty-two-inch waist too much. But she had no wish to inflict this torture upon her daughter, pointing out that many modern doctors denounced the use of these undergarments.
The two halves of the corset were reinforced with whalebone, hooked together in front and laced up at the back. Belle couldn’t breathe in them, and hated that countless whales had died in the advancement of the ideal female figure. They made girls look ridiculous, with breasts pushed unnaturally forward to balance an equally exaggerated behind. Bustles, wool-stuffed pads or tiers of stiff frills were worn to further plump out the rump. Squashing all that flesh in was no easy task, hence the need for a lady’s maid – someone to stand behind and strain the laces tight. Mama told horror stories of the damage they sometimes caused: fractured ribs, collapsed lungs and the displacement of livers and spleens.
‘Don’t complain so,’ said Elizabeth, as Millie eased Belle into layers of petticoats, chemises and drawers. ‘When I was a child, Grandmama insisted I wear crinolines. They were made out of starched linen and horsehair and were so rough and stiff that they rubbed my skin raw in places. They were better than the fashion that followed, though. Cage crinolines – they looked more like trellises for grapevines than articles of clothing. Honestly, Belle, I couldn’t sit down or fit through doorways. When the wind caught underneath, I feared I might fly away. And when I walked, the thing bounced up and down like a monstrous, swinging birdcage, unless I took dainty, mincing steps like this.’
Elizabeth demonstrated the technique, accompanied by peals of laughter from Millie and Belle.
‘I’d be grateful, if I were you, Miss Belle,’ said Millie, as she sprinkled her mistress with lavender water. ‘Dressing up in all this fine silk and velvet and lace. Your corsets are lovely too. I’d look right pretty in one, wouldn’t I, ma’am?’
Elizabeth smiled and agreed. Belle went to the wardrobe and fished out several of the offending garments. ‘Here, have them, if you like pain so much.’
She tossed them to the delighted Millie, who immediately held them up one by one against her body. Apparently she didn’t see that cinching the tiny undergarments upon her full figure would be an impossible task.
Now Elizabeth joined in the laughter. ‘Very well,’ she sighed. ‘You may have them, Millie. Perhaps you can alter them in some way. Now, Belle, we must do something with your hair. Up, do you think?’
At precisely six o’clock, the coachman, Harrison, drew the dark-blue double-brougham to a halt in front of Binburra’s homestead. The stylish pair of matched greys set off on the trip to the Mitchell estate at a spanking trot. Two elegant brass lamps, mounted either side of the cabin, cast swaying rays of light, their hazy radiance competing with the twilight. Moths and beetles drawn to the soft glow kept pace with the horses, zooming around in a fine display of aerial acrobatics.
Ancient trees loomed strange and mysterious in the gloom. Belle gazed out the window at the dark forest that had swallowed Adam, searching for some trace of his passage. She longed suddenly to shake off her frills and flounces and follow him into the wild mountains.
Elizabeth observed her daughter as she stared out the carriage window, lost in thought. Hard to believe this elegantly dressed young lady was the same girl who’d been swimming her horse in the creek a few hours ear
lier. Belle would not easily fit the mould society had ready for her. She was too strong-willed, too boldly intelligent. Elizabeth had been the same, struggling against the constraints imposed upon girls. How fortunate she’d been to find Daniel, a man who not only tolerated her independent spirit, but admired her for it. Belle was growing up. When she married, she’d need a husband with those same qualities.
Elizabeth very much approved of Belle’s friendship with Edward Abbott and hoped one day it might lead to more. A love match was her dearest hope for Belle. By anyone’s standards other than Daniel’s, Lord Campbell’s granddaughter paired with Sir Henry’s son equalled a highly desirable union. Edward’s mother, Jane Abbott, was also for the match. She and Elizabeth had talked of it privately. They felt sure that, considering the obvious affection between them, Belle and Edward’s engagement was merely a matter of time.
The tired team trotted up the curved driveway of Clarendon Hall. It had started to rain. Grace and Edward waved to Belle from the broad bluestone verandah. Elizabeth eyed the young man approvingly. He cut a handsome figure. Tall with a sunny, open smile. Casually handsome in buff breeches and soft open-necked shirt. Sandy hair tousled by the breeze.
Edward ran to meet the carriage, with eyes only for Belle. He took her hand, helped her down. She wasn’t very good at walking in those heeled kid-leather boots.
‘Let’s go see the new colt,’ said Belle.
The three young friends headed down to the stables, laughing and talking.
Elizabeth smiled. Next thing, Belle would be kneeling in the straw to pat the foal, and smelling of manure instead of lavender. ‘Take your coat. And try to look after that dress,’ she called after them, then hurried inside to see if Ada Mitchell could use a hand.
These dinners were an ordeal for Ada. She strived so hard to achieve the comfort and enjoyment of her guests that she ruined her own. Elizabeth discovered Ada anxiously supervising last-minute meal preparations. Her capable staff took the opportunity provided by Elizabeth’s arrival to usher the lady of the house respectfully from the kitchen, thus allowing them to get on with their work.
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