by Janet Woods
‘Send for her. She’s your wife and must do as you bid.’
‘You don’t understand, Ryder. I want Siana to be happy. There has already been too much sadness in her life.’
‘I applaud you for that,’ Prudence said, coming into the room with a smile on her face. ‘I knew from the first time I saw you together that Siana was perfect for you. I told her so.’ He received a kiss on the cheek. ‘Now, you mustn’t worry about the boy. He’s peacefully asleep with a maid to watch over him for the time being. I have found some clean clothing for him, which although rather large, will suffice for now.
‘I’ll order some broth to be made for the boy.’ She slid her arm through his. ‘Now, let us have dinner, for my sons will be as hungry as a pack of wolves. Perhaps we’ll discuss Pansy’s wedding to that Skinner fellow, between us.’
‘I think not,’ Ryder said with a grin. ‘Francis has decided he can manage the affairs of his family himself.’
‘Has she someone else to advise her, then?’
Francis laughed. Prudence would never change. ‘The wedding is to take place in the local church. Pansy said it’s to be a small wedding with only close family and Josh’s business friends in attendance.’
‘My dear Francis, I wonder if my niece is aware of how very large the Matheson family is.’
‘To be honest, Pansy expects them to display their displeasure of the event by refusing the invitation.’
‘Even if they do not all attend, they’ll need to be invited. And although that drawing room of yours is a handsome size, I’m not sure it will accommodate us all should everyone decided to follow my good example, and accept.’
Francis exchanged a relieved grin with Ryder, who winked. He would not like Pansy to be snubbed on her wedding day. ‘I understand the reception is to be held at Pansy’s future home. Josh has added a large conservatory to the drawing room which leads out onto a terrace.’
‘Ah yes. As I recall, that house at Poole has a fine view.’ She gave him a dark and exaggerated sigh. ‘I also recall that I had an argument about you with Siana there. She objected to wearing mourning for you. For some strange reason she was quite convinced you’d return from the dead.’
‘And she was right.’
‘On that occasion she guessed correctly . . . but it’s quite annoying to be constantly contradicted when I’m not used to it. All your family do it. I really don’t know where they get it from. Certainly not from you, Francis, for you’re always such congenial company. Still, we must leave irritations in the past for the sake of future generations.’
Francis wished she’d do just that. Too much of Prudence was certainly an irritation, like wearing a hair shirt. He didn’t envy his brother for having a wife with no quietness in her.
He also didn’t envy his brother for the servants, trappings and responsibilities of estate that came with being the Earl of Kylchester. Suddenly, he was glad he was the younger brother, Dr Francis Matheson, physician, and sometimes a surgeon, which was the lesser of the doctoring professions, but a deserving one when a life and death consideration was needed. He was a man who earned his respect, who lived at Rivervale House and could allow his daughter to wed a self-made man, without too much fuss.
‘Joshua Skinner,’ Prudence suddenly said. ‘As I recall, he’s an enterprising young man who has done well for himself.’
‘His company has vast property holdings and has expanded into London. In years to come, he’ll probably end up as one of the wealthiest men in England,’ Francis predicted.
Prudence gave him a beaming smile. ‘That’s something in his favour, then. Pansy has always had a good head on her shoulders. I’ll write a list of family in order of preference, and you will give it to Pansy on my behalf, for she will never remember them all. What happened to that dreadfully deformed creature who used to work for Skinner?’
‘Sam Saynuthin? He lives in Poole, and earns a good living from his drawing skills.’
‘Ah yes. He did a drawing of me once. Very unflattering, for he made my nose look like a raven’s beak. You will tell Pansy I’m available for advice at any time. I have always wanted a daughter so I can arrange a wedding for her. Perhaps I can do something with those younger girls instead. Daisy is promising, if pert, and Marigold has such a sweet, shy nature.’
‘Perhaps,’ Francis said with a smile, and his mouth began to water as a tureen of steaming soup was carried in by a footman. He had not eaten since breakfast.
Francis didn’t leave Kylchester Hall until the following noon. Prudence had sent one of the maids into the nearest town with a list and Bryn was now suited out with a wardrobe of clothing. It was a gift to relieve Prudence of her guilt over the affair.
His hair neatly trimmed, bathed, and garbed in a sailor suit, Bryn now looked more like his old self than the stinking animal Francis had collected from the cottage. His eyes lacked lustre, though, and the tenseness lingering about him couldn’t be dispelled.
Personally attended to by Prudence, who was obviously doing her best to make amends, Bryn consumed a bowl of chicken broth without major mishap, even though he tried to grab the bowl and drink from it.
‘We will use a spoon, boy, otherwise you’ll be sick,’ Prudence told him in a manner which made it plain she was going to be obeyed. Afterwards, Bryn went to sit on the floor in the corner of the room, his face turned to the panelling, as if hiding his face would make him unnoticeable. He cringed away from Francis when he was picked up.
‘You mustn’t be frightened of me, Bryn. I won’t hurt you.’ But Francis’s soothing words had little effect.
The unnerving silence continued all the way to Rivervale House. When they reached Poole, Bryn made a tiny mewing sound as if his memory was being triggered by his surroundings. Indeed, the nearer they went to Rivervale House, the more alert he became. When Francis slowed the rig to allow several deer to cross the road, Bryn gazed intently at them.
‘Do you remember this place?’ Francis asked him.
The boy ignored him and turned his head away. When they passed through the gates he displayed signs of restlessness. They pulled to a stop in front of the house. Just as the front door was opened by the maid and Francis freed Bryn from the restraints keeping him safely in his seat, the boy became quite agitated.
Francis was about to climb down when Bryn flung himself from his seat to the ground. Picking himself up he tore up the steps and into the house. By the time Francis followed him in it was to see Bryn dashing up the stairs at a fast pace. He shot straight past the astonished-looking trio of young ladies who were coming down to greet them.
‘Mamma,’ he heard Bryn shout out, then a door slammed back against the wall. There was silence for a moment, then a loud scream of frustration. ‘I want my mamma!’ and the boy burst into a frenzy of heart-rending sobs.
Pansy exchanged a glance with him. ‘He needs a woman’s touch, I think, Papa. I’ll attend to him.’
‘Me too,’ Daisy and Goldie said together, unable to hide the accusation in their eyes.
As if he didn’t already feel like an ogre. Going into his study, Francis placed his head in his hands, trying to stem his own tears. He wished there was an easy way to right the wrong he’d brought about.
‘Come home, Siana,’ he whispered. ‘We need you.’
A few weeks later, the ship Siana was sailing on sighted the Cape Verde islands off the African coast.
‘We’ll turn east towards Spain then sail up the coast and across the channel into Bristol. If the weather remains fair, we should sight the coast of England within two weeks.’ The captain showed her where they were on the charts. A kindly man, he had patiently responded to her interest during the journey, answering any questions she might have. She’d been keeping a journal of her time in Van Diemen’s Land, and now, of the journey home. The ship would be putting into Bristol first he’d told her, then going across to Ireland to provision and pick up immigrants for a trip across the North Atlantic Ocean to the American continent.
‘You must have seen many interesting places,’ she said.
He smiled. ‘Aye, you could say that. I’ve been at sea since I was a boy, first sailing with my father when I was nine years old. I know of no other life.’
‘Then you have no wife and family?’
He said soberly, ‘I married when I was young and we had a baby daughter. I intended to give up the sea and settle down ashore, but I left it too late. One day I came home from sea to find them gone. Cholera had taken them both. It didn’t seem fair to take another wife.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘And what about you, Mrs Matheson. Will you be met in England?’
‘My family doesn’t know I’m on my way home. I thought I’d find a livery stable and hire a carriage and driver to take me to Dorset.’
‘Bristol is a rough port. I’ll make sure you’re escorted to the ship’s agent, who will forward you safely on your journey. He can arrange decent accommodation for you and the babe, if needed.’
‘Thank you, Captain. You’re very kind.’
The weather took a turn for the worse as they neared England. The wind was blustery and cold, the water white-crested and choppy. The ship wallowed and bucked this way and that, so most of the passengers became ill and were confined to their cabins.
The movement affected Siana and Francine not at all. Siana’s daughter had found her legs over the past few weeks, and had to be constantly watched lest she lose her grip on the furniture and fall.
Wrapped in a warm cloak and, with Francine protected by her body from the wind, Siana watched the coast came closer and closer. The sight of the small green island that was home brought a lump to her throat and tears to sting her eyes, for her travels had made her realize how truly small and precious it was to her.
The ship tied up the following morning. Siana had said her farewells to the ship’s crew and the other passengers. The ship’s agent kindly hired a carriage and horses whose driver was willing to take her to Dorset, and within two hours she was on her way home. Not to Rivervale House, though. She didn’t know if she’d be welcomed there.
It was warmer on shore than it had been on the water. There was a drift of soft rain, almost like mist.
The rich aroma of Dorset was a balm to her senses. As she passed fields where sheep and cattle grazed, she had a sense of never being away. Life on the land never changed. Root vegetables were being sown. She watched the men and women bending to the earth, their skin nut-brown and toughened to the elements.
The corn fields were an undulating ocean of verdant wheat and barley. She felt the hills call, and experienced the urge to walk there again. But not now. She was travel weary. Her legs were still unaccustomed to dry land, so it came up to meet her feet unexpectedly, sending her side-stepping. She would need to find her land legs again before she could walk a distance.
The Cheverton housekeeper, Maisie Roberts, met her at the front door, her face wreathed in smiles. ‘Mrs Matheson? How nice to see you at Cheverton House again.’
‘I’m to be a guest, Maisie. I have letters in my bag to that effect from Mr Ibsen.’
‘Before he left, Mr Ibsen gave instructions that you were welcome to stay here at any time.’ Her eyes widened at the sight of Francine. ‘There’s a bonny cheil. And so like you. Dr Matheson never mentioned her on his visits here to see his grandchildren.’
‘Dr Matheson is, as yet, unaware of her existence. Does my husband come here often?’
‘As regular as the sun rises, every Sunday morning. He stays for an hour or two, playing with Alexander and Jane Louise. He says it gives him an excuse not to go to church.’
Siana smiled at that, but she needed time to collect herself before she confronted her husband. ‘For the moment I don’t want Dr Matheson to know I’m back, Maisie.’
‘I understand, Mrs Matheson. I’ll instruct the staff not to say anything. Now come in out of the rain, for though ’tis fine, it will soon soak you through. Still, a little rain be good for forcing the crops on this time of year, they say, and we’ve had precious little this year. Very dry, it be. In some parts the farmers be turning the crop in. Cheverton Estate was lucky, as we got just enough to grow a decent crop.’
Tears pricked Siana’s eyes at the sound of Maisie’s rich dialect. ‘It’s lovely to be home. I’ve missed the place so much.’
Maisie patted her shoulder. ‘There, there, my bonny. I’ll bring you some refreshment and get you settled in before I send someone to tell Phinas Grundy you be here.’
‘Thank you, Maisie.’
‘Likely, the two young uns will enjoy having a playmate for a while. I’ll fetch one of the nursery maids down to make the little one’s acquaintance.’
After Maisie had gone, and Francine had charmed the nursery maid with her smile and been willingly borne off to the nursery, Siana sank into the chair and gazed around her. Her marriage to her first husband had been celebrated in this room. She’d been eighteen years old. Her marriage to Francis had been celebrated here too. Yet Cheverton Manor had never felt like a home to her. It still didn’t.
Not more than two miles away was her home. Would she be welcomed at Rivervale House by the man who still held her heart, she wondered.
18
Sydney Town had pleasantly surprised Elizabeth Hawkins. A bustling place, it had many fine sandstone buildings and a sense of order about it. To the west a range of mountains rose into the sky. They were as beautiful as they were formidable.
For four hundred pounds, Jed had purchased some three hundred acres of partially cleared land on the Hawkesbury River at the mandatory price of one pound per acre, from a widow woman who was returning to England. He’d considered the extra money well spent, for it included a homestead, albeit one of modest proportions, plus livestock consisting of approximately one hundred sheep, six sows and a hog to service them. Jed was a hard worker. Already, he’d added two extra rooms to the house.
Seven convicts had been assigned to work on the farm. Most were set to clearing the land. One of them had once worked the fields of Cheverton Estate when Jed had held the stewardship. A shepherd, serving a nine-year term for slaughtering one of his master’s sheep to feed his family, he was the only one trustworthy enough to work near the homestead. Jed paid him a small wage to keep him loyal, the sum to be set aside until he gained his ticket-of-leave.
The rest of the convicts were housed in small shelters made from any material that came to hand. They were situated a good three miles away from the house, and guarded by a trooper. Jed took them a weekly ration of flour, sugar, tea, molasses, and a carcass of mutton. There was native wildlife to be trapped, too. The odd, hopping creature called a kangaroo made a hearty meal, tasting a little like venison.
Generally, the convicts were an unkempt lot, for their beards grew wild and matted and their clothes became ragged. There was rarely any trouble, for they were worked to the point of exhaustion each day. Neither did Jed have any compassion for them. To varying degrees of brutality, they were all criminals and he didn’t trust them further than he could throw them.
Jed Hawkins had a plan. Thorough and deliberate in his ways, he knew the future of the property rested in the hands of their two young sons, and his task in life was to build the property up for them before his life was over.
‘This is a fine country. I have everything I need to make me contented,’ Elizabeth’s man of few words said to her one day.
‘Being your own master, for one thing.’
‘Aye, there’s that, though it was a long time coming.’ He smiled at her then. ‘There’s something to be said for having a loving wife and some young uns, though, and no guessing which I’d choose between the two if I was asked.’
Elizabeth’s life now was a far cry from her former situation in England. Although she’d been unjustly convicted of a crime, because of it she was truly happy for the first time in her life. Susannah had settled down, too, now she’d been made aware of how much she was loved. Susannah’s
two younger brothers adored her, and the girl revelled in their admiration. Elizabeth schooled her along with the boys, as well as teaching her the household skills she would need in the future. She was proving to be an apt pupil.
Dainty and feminine in her ways, Susannah’s pretty manners endeared her to everyone she met, thanks to Siana. Elizabeth expected her daughter to marry well when the time came, for marriageable females were in short supply. Most of the properties in the district were flourishing and had sons who would need partners.
From the window, Elizabeth watched her daughter, who was sitting astride one of the horses learning to ride. Jed had the horse on a long rope so it could only go in circles. At the moment a horse trained to a lady’s side saddle was an unnecessary expense, since the beasts had to work as well as provide transport. Jed was careful with their money, but when they were more established a proper mount would be obtained for herself and Susannah, and Elizabeth would undertake to teach her daughter the accepted manner of riding. But at least Susannah was becoming used to handling a horse, and that would hold her in good stead for the future.
Aware of the eyes of her brothers upon her, Susannah appeared to possess more confidence than she actually had. When she slowed to a stop, Jed went up to her and said something. When she nodded, he freed the rope from the bridle. Hand going to her mouth, Elizabeth held her breath. For a moment Susannah looked unsure, then she was off, walking the horse across the paddock then going into a trot. Wheeling the horse around she went into a canter and brought it back to where Josh stood, a proud grin on her face. The boys began to whoop and holler when Jed lifted her down.
The day was cold. Something moving in the eucalyptus trees bordering the paddock caught her attention. A puff of dust. It might have been a kangaroo, though Jed’s dog had heard something unusual, for it began to bark.
‘Quiet,’ Jed growled, shading his eyes with his hands. Although visitors were more frequent than they’d been in Van Diemen’s Land they were still rare, so those living on isolated properties had to be cautious.
