A Handful of Ashes

by Janet Woods

  Jed had now bought an acreage and homestead in New South Wales, and they would shortly be leaving the island to travel to the mainland. Now Elizabeth had been granted her freedom, they’d move to a place where her past wasn’t known. Once settled in, Jed intended to return to England to fetch Susannah. Not that Elizabeth was ashamed of her past, since she hadn’t committed the crime she was convicted of. But there was no way of proving that now, and she didn’t want her children to grow up thinking less of her for it.

  ‘There will be a good future for our sons in New South Wales,’ Jed had promised her. ‘And we’ll be less isolated.’

  Elizabeth couldn’t think of anything more promising than being as happy as she was now, and being married to Jed for the rest of her life. All that had gone before – her early life as mistress to a rich man, the years of mothering the bastard son she had borne him, who was now dead from his excesses – was a painful memory she would rather not recall. She was loved and cared for by a man who was worth more than his weight in gold, and she had borne two sons in the sanctity of their marriage. She was now looking forward to being reunited with the daughter of her previous marriage. What more could any woman want?

  ‘Pa,’ Tobias shouted out, pointing towards the trail cleared between Francis Matheson’s property and that of their neighbour.

  She gazed towards the pathway to see Jed and Oliver emerge from the trees. When Tobias began to struggle she let him down, laughing as he went running off at a trot, tumbling over and righting himself because he tried to run faster than his legs would allow, to greet his father.

  Dismounting, Jed set him on the saddle with his brother and began to lead them. His honey-brown eyes met hers as he drew nearer, and he smiled. As always, she became aware of herself as a woman, though she was no longer able to primp and perfume herself, as she had in her previous life.

  Here, she had dirt under her nails and calluses on her hands. Her hair was pulled untidily back into a ribbon at the nape of her neck, her face tanned and freckled from the sun. Nevertheless, her fingers went to her foxy hair, attempting to tuck the stray strands in. Her husband didn’t mind her being untidy. Having worked on the land for most of his life, he was unused to a life restricted by convention.

  Jed, tall, upright and grey-haired, laughed. ‘Stop fussing, woman. You know the light in your hair puts the sunlight to shame.’

  ‘Jed Hawkins. You always say that.’

  ‘And you always blush.’ He lifted their sons from the horse, picking them up by the slack of their shirts like a couple of pups, to set them gently on their feet. Taking her face between his hands, he kissed her mouth, making it his own. She’d never felt more loved in her life than when she was with Jed. ‘I have some news.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Someone was making enquiries about you in Hobart. A woman called Emily Scott.’

  ‘Emily Scott? I can’t recall her.’

  ‘She was a passenger aboard a ship which docked a week ago, and shared a cabin with Siana Matheson and a child called Susannah.’

  ‘Siana and Susannah?’ Elizabeth’s eyes widened and an unbelieving smile came and went. ‘A week ago? Where are they, then? Why have they not come to us?’

  ‘They’re being cared for by a Quaker family. Apparently, Siana was taken ill aboard the ship and the child caught it from her.’

  Elizabeth’s hand came up to her mouth. ‘Oh, God! What’s wrong with them?’

  ‘An infection of the lungs accompanied by fever, I understand.’

  Elizabeth began to take off her apron. ‘I must go to them.’

  ‘No, my love. I’ll go, and you’ll wait here. We don’t know what ails her yet. I don’t want to put the boys at risk, especially since we’ll be leaving here within a month. I’ll leave tomorrow at first light. As soon as she’s recovered I’ll bring her back to you.’

  It was a frustrating time for Elizabeth while Jed was away. Siana, after all these years, she thought. What on earth had possessed Francis to allow her to travel all this way by herself. But she wasn’t by herself. Susannah was with her. Dear God, how she longed to see her daughter again. The girl wouldn’t know her after all this time. And what of Siana, was she happy? God knew, she deserved to be after all she’d been through in her childhood.

  She sat her sons down, saying to them, ‘Soon you will have a sister. Her name is Susannah.’

  Oliver nodded. ‘Pa said.’

  ‘Pa said,’ Tobias mimicked.

  Elizabeth fetched the precious drawing of her daughter, smoothing it out carefully. It had been drawn by Sam Saynuthin, the deaf mute who worked for Josh Skinner. It had been a gift from Siana, given to her before Elizabeth had left England.

  ‘Susannah was the same age as you in this picture, Oliver, but now she’s much older. She has blue eyes like me, and the same colour hair.’

  The pair of them nodded solemnly. ‘Pa said.’

  But even Elizabeth was unprepared for the changes in her daughter, when two weeks later she was presented to her. At the age of eight, Susannah was as dainty as a porcelain doll. Elizabeth longed to take her in her arms, but the girl was clinging to Siana’s side and she didn’t want to frighten her.

  ‘Do you know who I am, Susannah?’

  ‘You’re my mamma,’ the girl said and gazed up at Siana for confirmation with a trembling bottom lip.

  Oliver, dragging Tobias behind him, pushed in between. ‘There are some baby pigs. Wanna see? You can hold one and make it squeal.’

  Gazing at Siana for permission, Susannah received a nod.

  ‘Be careful you don’t dirty that pretty dress,’ Elizabeth told her. ‘Good clothing has to be looked after, here.’

  Susannah ignored her, saying to Oliver, ‘I slept outside last night. A wild animal made a noise in the bushes. Your papa said it was a devil.’

  ‘Were you scared?’ Oliver asked.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said scornfully. ‘Don’t be such a baby. We have dragons in England. They blow smoke and fire from their nostrils and roar much louder. They would cook you and eat you in one bite.’

  Seemingly impressed by her answer, Oliver gazed wide-eyed at her, while plump little Tobias clung fearfully to his brother’s hand.

  ‘Come on then, show me the pigs,’ she said bossily.

  ‘Where are your manners?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘We say please and thank you in this house.’

  Susannah subjected her mother to a cool look, reminding Siana of Daisy. She tossed her head and walked out through the open door, the boys following her.

  Siana smiled apologetically, as if her mothering of the child had been at fault. ‘I’ve never seen Susannah act as badly as this. But you must remember that everything is strange to her and she’s aware that I’m going to leave her here. Give her time. She’ll settle down and accept her situation in a little while. I’ve talked to her about you, often.’

  ‘Forgive me. I’d expected no less and you’re right to remind me. You look pale, my dear.’

  ‘The journey tired me after the infection. The land is so rugged. I’m glad Jed was with me, for there’s a sadness attached to the land here, which made me feel quite melancholy.’

  Elizabeth had forgotten Siana’s odd perceptions. ‘How is Francis, and the children?’

  To Elizabeth’s surprise, tears formed in Siana’s eyes as she choked out. ‘Something entirely dreadful has happened, Elizabeth. Maryse has taken her own life. Francis holds me to blame. He’s sent me away, for he can no longer stand the sight of me.’

  ‘Oh, my dearest.’ Slipping back into her former role of mentor to the younger woman, Elizabeth took Siana in her arms and held her close. ‘We will have some tea and you must tell me all about it.’

  Jed shuffled his feet, dismayed that Siana was about to heap her troubles onto Elizabeth’s shoulders. He hoped nostalgia for the past didn’t unsettle his wife and make her hanker after returning to England.

  Elizabeth gazed at him over Siana’s shoulder, offering hi
m a faint smile, though there were concerned tears in her eyes. Siana had been good to her in the past, and she wouldn’t turn her back on this troubled friend, who was now in need of her counsel.

  Feeling superfluous when faced with this display of shared, female emotion, Jed shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. ‘I’ll go and supervise the children,’ he said. ‘The boys are bound to get into trouble if they’re not watched.’

  Over the next few days Elizabeth gradually won Susannah over. The girl relaxed and seemed to enjoy the freedom of the place, which was unregulated by household or schoolroom schedules. Elizabeth made sure she received some tutoring every day, though.

  After unburdening her troubles, Siana allowed herself to be persuaded by Elizabeth that the parting would be temporary. ‘Francis will come to his senses.’

  ‘I worry about what has happened to Bryn.’

  ‘Knowing Francis, nothing too drastic. Even if he cannot accept the boy as his son, he’s Bryn’s grandfather. Blood is thicker than water. In time he’ll come to the conclusion that you may have deceived him, but you acted with the best of intentions. He loves you too much to let you go for good.’

  Because the Hawkins family had plans to leave Van Diemen’s Land to settle on their own property in New South Wales, Siana didn’t tell Elizabeth about the baby she carried inside her. Luckily she no longer suffered from sickness, and her slightly bulging stomach was easily hidden.

  ‘Come with us to New South Wales,’ Elizabeth said one day. ‘I don’t like the thought of leaving you here alone.’

  ‘No. I want to stay here in case Francis comes for me.’ The truth was, she wanted to be alone so she didn’t have to pretend she was happy when her emotions were constantly in turmoil.

  As the days swiftly passed and the time of parting grew nearer, Siana made light of her problem with falsehoods. ‘I’ll only be here over the winter. Francis said something about joining me here in the spring. By that time he’ll have recovered his senses.’

  Although he suspected she was lying, Jed didn’t urge Siana to take Elizabeth’s advice. Having once been the steward of Cheverton Estate, which had belonged to Siana’s first husband, he knew the way her mind worked. Siana Matheson made her own troubles, and didn’t expect anybody but herself to sort them out. She had inner strength and was a woman with the ability to survive in the most desperate of circumstances.

  ‘I’ll go into town and make sure you’re provisioned up for winter before we leave. There will be winter vegetables available, and the neighbours will come over every week to make sure you’re all right. If you need help, just fire the rifle twice into the air.’

  ‘You’ll have to show me how to load it, then.’

  ‘You’ll come through this all right, lass,’ Jed said to her. ‘You’ve always been strong, for you’ve always had to be.’

  A week later Siana was alone.

  Susannah had shed a tear and hugged her tight, but no more than she’d have done for a favourite aunt, for her own mother had captivated her after the first day. Susannah was intrigued by her and Elizabeth’s resemblance to one another. And it was obvious that her little brothers enchanted her. After always being among the youngest of the pack, she seemed to relish the responsibility of being the eldest.

  Jed seemed to have captured her heart by just doing nothing, and she called him Pa, the same as her two brothers.

  ‘Good luck,’ Siana had said to them, doubting if she’d ever see them again.

  Her friend Elizabeth had changed. She was more capable than Siana remembered, and certainly tougher. Being part of a family where she was loved and respected had given her confidence. Four years ago their paths had divided, taking them in different directions. Although they remained friends, their past rapport, which had been forged out of mutual need, no longer existed. Both of them knew it.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?’ Elizabeth asked her on the last day.

  Giving them all one last hug, Siana shook her head. ‘Safe journey.’

  She watched them walk out of her life with dry eyes. When they exchanged a final wave and disappeared from her sight she went back indoors, planning her schedule in her mind.

  The work about the house and garden would keep her busy, she realized. It would do her good to get back to her roots and dirty her hands. In fact, she was looking forward to working in the alien soil. Although the general terrain was steeper and more rugged, and the landscape wilder than she’d ever experienced in her life, the hills reminded her vaguely of Dorset. The solidly built wooden house would keep her snug and warm when winter came, for Elizabeth had told her it was bitterly cold in the winter months.

  So the weeks passed. Siana missed her husband and children but, although she felt sad and wondered about them constantly, she was aware of the child growing inside, keeping her company. She would endure the long days until she saw her family again, for she was sure they would be reunited.

  She fashioned clothes for her infant, using fabrics she’d brought with her, and stitching during the day when the light didn’t strain her eyes. Sometimes, she talked to the child as if she was already born. The sound of her own voice was a comfort in her loneliness, for the only visitors she had were members of the neighbouring Stowe family, who she welcomed gladly when they came to pay the occasional call.

  Siana knew she’d give birth to a girl. And so it came to pass, on a cold day in June, when frost lay thickly upon the ground.

  She barely had time to stoke up the fire when the pains were upon her. So swiftly and easily did the infant arrive, she didn’t have time to think, let alone send for the assistance of Jean Stowe. Not that she needed her. The afterbirth came away a few seconds later, and without a tear. Tying the cord, she separated the infant from it and wrapped her daughter in a sheet. After attending to her own needs, she placed the child against her breast to suckle, and returned to her bed to rest for the remainder of the day.

  The baby captivated Siana. Her head was covered in a dark velvety cap and a glimpse of her eyes showed them to be dark, too. The child bore a strong resemblance to her own mother. But there was Matheson in her too, in the shape of her hands and the tiny frown creasing her brow, which reminded Siana achingly of Francis. How delicate and perfect a being she was.

  ‘I’ll name you after your father, and also after my mother. So, my dearest little Francine Megan Matheson, all we have to do now is wait for your father to come for us. That should not be long now, for a man cannot mourn for ever, not even for a lost child.’

  Over the following months she was happy being a mother to her child. She didn’t stray far from her immediate surrounds except to draw water from the stream. The only threat to her peace of mind came from the wild tangle of wilderness surrounding the clearing, which seemed to Siana strangely oppressive. Siana didn’t belong here, and had the feeling that if she ever ventured into the wilderness it would lay claim to her and she’d be lost for ever.

  In London, meanwhile, Goldie was making an impulsive bid for freedom after finding a door to the outside swinging open. Slipping through it, she ran as quickly as she could along the streets, hiding amongst the vendors of fruit in the market.

  She was looking for a coaching inn. If they agreed to take her to Poole, Josh Skinner would repay them for her fare. He used to own a coaching company and was acquainted with all the drivers. But, although she chased after each coach she saw, they soon left her behind.

  The grey uniform marked her out. Twice, she evaded capture by a constable, hiding in some smelly rat-ridden refuse in an alley. By evening Goldie was ravenously hungry, but not ravenous enough to scavenge with the rats. Even the sparse workhouse food would have been a welcome sight.

  Wearily, she sank into a shop doorway. It had been a hot day. The city stank of dung, rotting vegetables and the stinking, reeking mud of the river, for when the tide ebbed it left behind it an assortment of dead animals and other unsavoury rubbish.

  Before long it grew dark. C
urling up in the shadows, Goldie slept, oblivious to the sounds around her. Morning brought her downfall. Dragged upright by a constable she was marched back to the workhouse.

  Hands on hips, Mrs Tweddle scowled ominously. ‘Well, there’s an ungrateful girl, then.’

  Close to tears, Goldie said, ‘I don’t want to stay here. I want to go home.’

  The breath left her body when the woman backhanded her. Goldie staggered backwards with each slap, finally hitting her head against the wall. She burst into loud sobs as she slid down the wall to the floor.

  But Mrs Tweddle hadn’t finished. Fetching a thin cane, she set about Goldie, whipping her across the back, shoulders and arms without mercy. Cowering away from the stinging cane, Goldie tried to shield her head from the worst of it.

  ‘It hurts!’ she shrieked. ‘I won’t run away again, I promise.’

  ‘I’ll make sure you don’t, dearie.’ Her face convulsed with fury, the woman dragged Goldie upright by her hair and threw her face-down over the back of a stuffed chair. Blow after blow landed on her legs, buttocks and back.

  Goldie’s stomach began to ache. She couldn’t catch a breath properly and became dizzy. Froth dripped from her mouth and she lost control of her bladder. Then the room went black and she lost consciousness. Limply, she hung there, blood welling from her wounds.

  Her energy spent, breathing heavily, Mrs Tweddle gazed at her victim without remorse. That would teach the ungrateful little pest to obey the rules. She dragged her through to the infirmary and gave her to one of the workhouse inmates who served as nurses to the sick.

  ‘This one’s a runaway. See to her injuries. The little madam thinks she’s too good for the likes of us. When she’s able to work, let me know. She can scrub the privies and floors from now on.’

  ‘Eh, the poor little thing,’ one of them said after Mrs Tweddle had departed. ‘That miserable old cow has given her a right savaging. Fetch me some water, Maggie. I’ll see if I can clean her up . . . some of that salve too, to stop the cuts festering. If Tweddle puts her to scrubbin’ the privies, I reckon it’ll kill the poor little lass.’