by Anna Jacobs
After a while, he got up and took off his riding clothes, washing carefully to get the smell of horses off himself before he put on his day clothes. His thoughts wandered like butterflies as he looked at himself in the mirror, anything rather than think about the news he’d just received. He was glad he hadn’t had his new trousers made as tightly as fashion dictated. So uncomfortable. He put a handkerchief in his pocket and patted it, glad to have the new semicircular pockets at the front, because they were more practical.
Trying not to think what it contained, he slipped the letter into the other pocket before joining his hostess and friend.
Conn was with his mother in the small sitting room where she spent her days during the winter. She looked so frail, Ronan worried that each day would be her last.
‘May I join you?’
She gestured to a chair and asked quietly, ‘Was it bad news?’
‘I’m afraid so. And a dreadful shock, too. I can hardly believe it. It’s from Patrick, my youngest brother. He normally lives in England but he was at Ardgullan House when he wrote. It seems . . . I can’t believe it, but my brother Hubert has died suddenly – he was only thirty-four – and I’ve inherited the family estate.’
‘Was there an accident?’ Mrs Largan asked.
‘No. He just dropped dead. For no reason that anyone could see.’
‘This must be the season for deaths,’ Conn said. ‘We had similar news, only it’s my cousin Michael who’s died.’ He shared the details, his voice breaking as he spoke of the possibility of his conviction being overturned.
Ronan went to clap him on the back and wish him a speedy pardon or whatever it was they did when someone had been wrongfully accused. And a speedy annulment too.
After they’d settled down again, Mrs Largan rang for a tea tray and while they waited for Maia to bring it, she said, ‘You’ll go straight home, of course, Ronan.’
‘Yes. I’ll have to. Only it’ll be nearly two months before there’s another mail steamer. Perhaps I’ll go and see what ships are leaving Fremantle.’
‘There aren’t a lot of ships that sail from there,’ Conn said, ‘and they’re not usually steamers like the mail ships, so the journey takes longer.’
Ronan sighed. ‘This really is an isolated place. Perhaps you’ll move back to Ireland once your innocence is established, Conn?’
‘I doubt it. I like it here. Look, I’ve been thinking. You could probably catch Bram’s friend if you go straight up to Perth. He might be able to take you to Galle if you pay him well – he seems to have no fixed itinerary – and as Pandora told us, you can quickly get a ship to England from Galle. If I remember correctly, much of the Indian and Far Eastern trade uses that port for coaling or replenishing their food and water.’
‘What a pity you didn’t find out before Xanthe left!’ Mrs Largan said. ‘You could have gone together. I do worry about that girl travelling on her own. I don’t care how sensible she is, a woman alone is vulnerable, especially one so young and beautiful.’
‘Yes. It is a pity.’ More than a pity, Ronan thought. It was as if fate was deliberately keeping them apart. He wondered if destiny would make their paths cross again, hoped it would.
If he had to go back, he was going to find her and see if his feelings for her were still as strong. And if they were, then to hell with convention. He might be the son and heir, but he was also a man in love.
But he didn’t share those thoughts even with Conn. He simply set about packing and arranged to borrow the small horse and cart, with the oldest and most sensible stable lad to bring it back to Galway House again.
Bram had taken lodgings with Dougal’s mother and sister in Fremantle, so Ronan found him quite easily. As the family of a ship’s captain, even a small elderly ship like the Bonny Mary, they had a house large enough to contain spare bedrooms which they let out to selected lodgers, more for the company than from a need for money.
When he explained that he needed to get back to Ireland as quickly as possible, they offered him a room. It seemed that Dougal was due back any day now and if anyone could help, it would be him.
With relief, Ronan sent the lad and cart back to Conn with a note of thanks, explaining where he was and saying he’d write when he reached Ireland.
It was at times like this that the extreme isolation of the Swan River Colony was really brought home to you, Ronan thought. He spent most of the first day indoors, sheltering from a heavy downpour, alternating between reading a book – and a boring one, it was, too! – and chatting to Bram.
The following day was fine and he went out to stroll round Fremantle. He watched the convicts working on a bridge across the river, a huge wooden structure nearly a thousand feet long. He went on to look at the jail which dominated the town from the top of a limestone ridge, wondering if Conn had been incarcerated there when he arrived. He admired one newly built stone building of Gothic architecture, surprised when a passer-by told him it was the lunatic asylum. Did they have so many lunatics here?
In great contrast, some of the tiny wooden houses were as small as the poorest huts in Ireland, but it must be easier to live in such places in a warmer climate.
He tried to rein in his frustration at the delays and at least using up some of his energy by going for a long walk meant he slept better the second night.
It was three interminable days later that they heard the Bonny Mary had docked in Fremantle. Ronan was all for going straight down to the docks, but Dougal’s sister said this wasn’t the time to disturb him as he’d have the arrival formalities to go through and the cargo to unload.
It wasn’t till late evening that Dougal arrived home, delighted to see Bram again and surprised to see Ronan. He was even more surprised to learn that Ronan was desperate to get back to Ireland and commiserated with him on his loss of a brother.
‘But I can go nowhere till this cargo has been sold and another taken on. No!’ He held up one hand. ‘Not even if you pay me double. I will take you to Galle, and before the next mail steamer too, but not yet.’
Ronan could do nothing but continue to wait as patiently as possible.
Then, by a fortunate coincidence, another gentleman seeking a passage to Galle was directed to the Bonny Mary and a cargo consisting mainly of sandalwood was found, some of which could probably be sold in Galle while the rest would be taken on to Singapore.
In the end the ship managed to leave within the week, a very quick turn-round, Dougal said.
‘I’d not have done this for anyone but a friend of yours,’ he told Bram. ‘I like to spend time with my family between voyages.’ He puffed on his pipe, found it had gone out and needed refilling, so tapped out the dottle and began to fill it again.
‘You know, Bram lad, now you’ve got the promise from your friend Conn of money to invest in your shop, you should come with me on a voyage or two and learn more about the sort of goods we can obtain. I’ll probably be going on to the Straits Settlements after Galle. There’s a very profitable British trading station on the island of Singapore these days and there’s talk of it becoming a Crown Colony. We got the better of the Dutch when we gained a foothold there, I can tell you.’
Bram considered this suggestion. ‘I don’t really enjoy sailing, but I think you’re right, Dougal lad. If we’re to do well with our business association, I do need to see what goods we can find in the Orient. I’ll ask Ronan if he minds sharing his cabin with me.’
The other gentleman who would be travelling with them was much older and of a studious disposition.
‘He’s so boring to talk to, I’m thinking this book he’s writing will be a tedious read,’ Bram said to Ronan after their first meal in their travelling companion’s company the night before they set sail.
They left on a grey spring day and the weather continued cool and rainy for the first week of the voyage, keeping them in their cabins for long periods. Ronan was already bursting with unspent energy. Walking around a ship’s deck wasn’t nearly enough to ti
re him out, but to be confined to his cabin was driving him crazy. He would not, he decided, come to Australia again. The cost in boredom was too high.
He tried to use the time productively by planning what he would do once he got back to Ireland, but it still seemed unreal to him that he owned Ardgullan house and the estate, or that he was responsible for so many lives, not only those who worked for him, but those in his cottages in the village.
And one of his biggest responsibilities would be to provide an heir to carry on the family name. No escaping that.
But was he to marry for the estate, making a cool marriage to a woman of his own class, who would no doubt bore him to tears within the month? No. He wanted a woman who would argue with him, give as good as she got, and be worth talking to. You didn’t just take a wife to bed, you lived with her day in, day out, and faced the world together – or you should do if things went well.
His brother Patrick had married a fortune and now lived with a woman who looked like a well-bred horse and had a whinnying laugh that made people wince. Perhaps Ronan had had too much freedom in his life or was more selfish, but he knew he couldn’t do that. So, he decided, he’d wear the chains of the estate, but he’d not chain himself to a woman he didn’t find attractive and interesting.
Inevitably his thoughts lingered at this stage on the woman he’d already met, the woman whose company he’d enjoyed and whom he still missed dreadfully.
The weather grew warmer. Ronan thought he was hiding his frustration well till Bram and Dougal began to tease him about it, likening him to a caged tiger.
The third week began with little wind and stifling heat. If they sat out on deck now, it was under a canvas awning, but in the heat of midday they retreated to their cabin and the sailors too did only essential jobs at that time, though many were dark-skinned and seemed to tolerate the sun better than Ronan, whose skin burned easily. Even the wind seemed to have come straight from a furnace and the sun shining off the water hurt the eyes.
Though it was hot in the cabin, it wasn’t nearly as hot as outside on deck, and Dougal had a supply of books to share, as well as packs of cards to play silly games with, because Dougal frowned on gambling, saying he’d seen too many men lose their shirts that way.
One morning Ronan woke really early, found it impossible to get back to sleep in the stifling heat and went on deck to find Dougal there before him, studying the sky anxiously.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘I’m worried about a storm.’
‘On a sunny day like this?’
Dougal nodded. ‘Look at the barometer. Tropical storms can build up suddenly, or you can get hurricanes, though not usually at this season. If you’re a praying man, you’d better pray we don’t get one of those, or we’re lost for sure.’
From then on Ronan too kept an eye on the sky. To his dismay he watched it growing darker and felt the quality of the air change, as it always did before a storm. The motion of the ship became more jerky as the waves grew higher and his stomach reacted badly to this.
All the tales he’d ever heard of shipwrecks and storms seemed to come back to him.
Bram was also affected by the rough seas and staggered across the heaving deck towards him from the rail, where he’d been vomiting over the side, looking distinctly greenish in colour. ‘If I survive this voyage, I’m never going on a ship again. My stomach hasn’t felt easy the whole time. Smaller ships are much worse than the larger ones in bad weather.’
‘You’ll have to travel back to Australia by ship.’
‘Once I’m back there, then. That’s it. No more sailing.’
Dougal came across to them, speaking curtly and with no sign of his usual smile. ‘I’d be obliged if you two gentlemen would go back to your cabin and stay there until I tell you it’s safe to come out. That way I won’t have to worry about you falling overboard or getting in my crew’s way.’
‘What if I need to be sick?’ Bram clutched his stomach again.
‘Take a bucket with you. Now, hurry up. And don’t come out for any reason whatsoever. I’ll tell you when it’s safe.’
Ronan stood at the door of the cabin for a few minutes and watched Dougal stride off to bang on their travelling companion’s door and tell him the same thing. He kept shouting orders, stopping every now and then to study the horizon or the sky or the ship, always with a frown.
The next few hours would live in Ronan’s memory as one of the worst times of his life. Both he and Bram were sick more than once and the cabin soon smelled foul, which didn’t help.
The motion of the ship grew increasingly violent and they were tossed about however hard they tried to hold on to their bunks. Things he’d not thought to pack away were flung across the cabin, but he wasn’t risking life and limb to put them away safely. Books, towels and clothing could be picked up later. The steward had made sure there were no pieces of crockery lying around to smash.
Just when Ronan felt things couldn’t get any worse, there was a huge creaking sound and the ship seemed to stop in mid-air, then fall down into the abyss between waves with a sickening drop. He clung on to the edge of the top bunk, fending off a book that flew through the air.
Were they going to sink? He couldn’t believe his life would end like this, desperately wanted to live. As the minutes passed slowly, he waited for water to come pouring under his cabin door, but it didn’t, though it slapped against the sides of the ship loudly enough.
There was another of those wrenching movements and a loud cracking sound, followed by yells that sounded panicky.
‘What the hell was that?’ he asked Bram.
‘I daren’t think.’
However tightly he clung to his bunk, he couldn’t hold on this time. When the ship heaved violently, he was thrown off it and yelled out involuntarily as he fell.
There was a burst of pain, after which the world went dark.
One morning Mrs Largan looked at Maia and said with a sigh, ‘I don’t think I’ll get up today. I feel too tired.’ She closed her eyes again.
This was so unlike her that Maia waited to see if her mistress woke again. When she didn’t, Maia went to find Conn.
‘I’m worried about your mother.’
‘What’s wrong?’
She explained and saw tears rise in his eyes. When she reached out to him, he took her hand and held it tightly.
‘She thinks she hasn’t much longer to live. I think she’s right,’ said Conn.
‘Yes. She’s been hiding from you for a while how tired she’s felt. I’ve wanted to tell you, but she kept saying not yet. She didn’t say anything this morning except that she didn’t want to get up today.’
‘I’ll go and see her.’
Maia followed him along the corridor and they stood in the doorway of his mother’s bedroom.
‘There seems nothing of her,’ he muttered. ‘Has she grown thinner lately?’
‘Yes. She hardly eats enough to keep a bird alive.’
‘What should we do?’
Maia tugged him away and back to the library. ‘I think you should let her go in peace. She’s ready. She’s been in great pain for as long as I’ve known her, and then on top of it she started fainting. I wondered if I should have told you, but she insisted it’d do no good. And I think she was right.’
‘I can’t think how I’ll manage without her.’
‘Nor I. She’s taught me so much, not just information but how to face life, how to deal with people of all sorts. What a wonderful woman she is!’
There was silence and when she looked up, he was staring at her.
‘You won’t leave – afterwards? I know I’ve no right to ask it of you, but . . .’ After a moment’s hesitation, he told her about the possibility of both clearing his name and getting an annulment. ‘And if I do get out of this farcical marriage, Maia, dearest Maia, you will marry me, won’t you?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘As simple as that?’
‘We both k
now we love one another, so why pretend? It isn’t the Lancashire way.’
With a low groan, he drew her into his arms and kissed her, holding her in his arms for a long time afterwards.
When he moved gently back she did too, smiling at him. She didn’t care what other people said about her staying on here, didn’t care about anything as long as she could be with Conn. He loved her and would need her support through the difficult days ahead.
And if everything did work out and they were able to marry, she’d be the happiest woman in the colony – in the whole wide world!
15
Xanthe was thrilled to see Point de Galle ahead of them. It seemed to her from a distance like one of the Greek islands her father had read about, a place of sun and sand, blue water and even bluer sky. On the rocky promontory at the south-west extremity of the island stood the fortified town, Galle, with hills rising behind it.
One of the young officers was delighted to tell her about Galle and for once she let him talk, though she didn’t like the soulful way he looked at her. Making sheep’s eyes was a very good way to describe it, and who was interested in spending time with a sheep?
The fort was quite large, apparently, overlooking the harbour and containing not only government buildings but an old church, a mosque and a hospital. He had to explain what a mosque was because she’d never even heard of such a place of worship.
She didn’t accept the officer’s offer to show her round because she didn’t intend to give gossips any chance to blacken her name. It had been her salvation on the journey so far to have met Drue, who was like an unofficial chaperone, but her new friend was going on to Madras, so they would be parting company at Galle.
Xanthe had thought life would be so easy if you had money and didn’t have to work for a living, but these people had so many rules and shibboleths she was finding it hugely difficult to fit in. She already knew they’d never make friends with her, because she didn’t have enough money for them to overlook her origins, but she didn’t want to be spurned outright, out of a sense of pride, if nothing else.
