After the pronouncement of death, just by chance, smoothing down Thomas’ shirt, she’d felt something. Opening his shirt, beneath the undergarments, she found the thick, strong linen money belt buttoned tightly many times around his waist. At that moment the Captain had tapped at the cabin door. She opened it a fraction.
“Forgive me for intruding Mrs. Bickerstaff and with such an unseemly request,” he said quietly, “but I am anxious to make immediate arrangements for the removal of the body.”
Ella licked her lips, visions of the money bag disappearing, still strapped around Thomas.
“If I may, Captain, I would appreciate a few moments alone with my husband?”
“Of course. The men will wait outside. When you’re ready, let them know.”
Ella closed the door, leaned against it, and breathed deeply before returning to the bed. Perspiration trickled between her breasts and beneath her arms as she struggled to loosen the belt. It came off at last, and with a sigh of relief she pushed it under the bunk. Smoothing the hair off her hot face, she opened the cabin door.
“You can take him now,” she said.
Later, removing the straps, which were far too bulky for her slender form, she replaced them with ribbons from a nightdress. This enabled her to tie it around her waist, which, though it left the bag hanging uncomfortably against her thighs, at least kept it safe. Ella also kept a careful eye on the chemistry notes and a small selection of seeds she had brought with her, renewing the small linen wrappings every other day to ensure they stayed dry.
Thomas had spoken of putting his herbal knowledge to good use in Australia, and Ella found herself wondering if she might be able to do just that.
With the bag once more around her waist, as dinner would be called soon, Ella had time to write her letter to Thomas’ solicitor in London. Seated at the small desk under the porthole, she began.
To Aldeous, Williams, and Downs,
Sirs,
It is my sad duty to inform you that my husband, Thomas Bickerstaff, latterly of St. John’s Wood, London, died on the sea voyage to Australia. As I am his sole surviving family member, and understanding he left all documents regarding the farm in Hampshire with you, I wish to put forward an expression of interest. Since the Married Women’s Property Act of 1848, I understand that, as his widow, I will be entitled to the proceeds of either the farm’s sale, or its continued rental incomes.
Please could you confirm and address the situation promptly? For the foreseeable future, I will be staying at The Railway Hotel in Port Adelaide, Victoria, Australia.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs. Ella Bickerstaff.
Two days later, on a buoyant swell, hearing the shout, ‘Land Ahoy!’ Ella had to will herself not to race above deck in her excitement. She was, after all, the grieving widow.
Chapter Two
As the Venture neared her destination, Lucas Kemp, owner of Glen Ayre Farm close to the Adelaide Hills, was meeting Tom Walton, his bank manager.
“I’m off to Port Phillip for a couple of weeks, so will instruct Jonnie to keep his nose to the ground, and I’d appreciate it if you did too, Tom.”
Tom Walton pulled on his moustache. “Conflict of interest there, Lucas old chap. You know I’m Mrs. Kettler’s bank manager too.”
Lucas frowned. “All I want you to do is keep an eye on anything happening at Woomba. Like for instance, any offers coming in on it.”
“Ah.”
“If it were to happen, I want you to outbid them. I don’t care what it costs.”
“What makes you think she’ll sell while you’re away?”
Lucas shrugged. “You know when you have a feeling about something, Tom? It’s weird but Woomba has been on my mind more than ever just lately. And there couldn’t be a better time for her to sell with me out of the way.”
I really don’t understand Mrs. Kettler.” Tom shook his head. “She knows she’d get a good price from you, yet won’t sell. Why can’t she forget something that happened over fifty years ago?” He sighed and patted Lucas’s back. “But I wouldn’t worry, Lucas, there’s no one around ever shown interest in the place except you.”
“Comforting words, Tom. I hope you’re right.”
“You’ve got the trip to look forward to, don’t worry about Woomba. It’ll still be here when you get back.”
The two men shook hands, Lucas wishing he felt as confident as Tom sounded. He wasn’t a man who pandered to fancies, but as he’d said to Tom, he did have a strange feeling.
Back at the farm Jonnie, his head stockman, was loading a packed saddle bag and sleeping roll onto the back of the cart.
“Everything’s ready when you are, Boss. Cheese and bread wrapped in the cloths. Have you got anything in case of bad weather?”
“My trusty long coat. It’s hanging in the barn.”
“I’ll get that.”
Lucas sprinted into the house, collected a couple of changes of clothes, thrust them into a bag, and was back outside as Jonnie returned with the heavy coat. He’d rolled it, putting it with the saddle bag. Lucas flung his clothes bag in.
“Thanks, Jonnie. I’m hoping I won’t be gone any longer than three weeks. I know I can rely on you to keep the place running smoothly while I’m away, so that’s not a worry.” He stroked his chin. “But remember what I said about Mrs. Kettler will you? It would be just like her to sell the damn place to spite me while I’m away.”
“Aw, no. Who around here would have enough cash stashed under the mattress to buy it?”
“You never can tell, Jonnie…What are you grinning at?” Lucas laughed, showing perfect, white even teeth.
Jonnie’s grin widened. “I’m thinkin’ that trim little piece, Mary Wells will miss seeing you around town. She told me yesterday she’s got her eyes firmly fixed on you. It won’t be long before she has you hitched and stitched.”
Lucas laughed aloud at that. “No marriage for me, Jonnie. Bedding ’em’s different to wedding ’em! Come on, now. I can’t wait to be gone.”
Though Lucas had shown amusement, he knew Jonnie was right. Mary was keen for them to get closer, but something held him back, and he wasn’t at all sure what. Though, he assured himself, there was time enough to worry about that when he got back…if she was still around.
Together they checked the four horses. Well harnessed, they were more than capable of pulling the large cart, which would hold and transport the three new Angus breed calves he hoped to purchase in Port Phillip. After a final check with everything to their satisfaction, Jonnie held the reins ready and Lucas climbed up into the seat. Taking the reins he paused, pushing back his hair to settle the wide-brimmed hat carefully on his head. His deep blue eyes narrowed.
“You may not be taking what I’ve said about Woomba seriously, Jonnie, but I’m deadly earnest. You know how much I’d like that land of hers. If you get the slightest inkling anyone’s sniffing around, get to the bank straight away. Tom Walton will see to it. Okay?”
“Aw, get going now. Nothing’s going to happen here. Enjoy your trip and bring back some fine beasts. See you in a while, boss.”
»»•««
Lucas turned to wave until his farm was out of sight. As he drove east his thoughts were centered on Woomba. What he’d said was true. He would love the spring-fed lake on Mrs. Kettler’s land. Having a secure water supply in this part of South Australia meant he’d be able to increase his stock without worrying, yet he knew that if she had the chance, she’d let it go to anyone other than him. Over the years he’d lost count of the number of times he’d gone, cap in hand, asking her to sell. All he got was a door slammed in his face and the threat of a shotgun fired at his backside if he came on her land again. Still, he kept trying.
Lucas navigated the shallow river with care. Once across, he settled back in the seat, enjoying the rolling gait of the cart taking him through the wide pasturelands he loved. Not a day went by when he didn’t appreciate how much he’d achieved since arriving in Austr
alia, all of it down to hard work and the determination to drag himself up by his bootstraps. But beneath his success, the humiliation and fear from nineteen years before when he’d been transported would always be with him.
The ugly reminders threatened to cloud the beauty of the day, but Lucas, a man of iron will, banished them to the farthest recesses of his mind, to be dealt with when he was good and ready.
“Get yup, there boys,” he called to the horses with a crack of the whip.
He made good time for the rest of the day, stopping as the evening darkened.
After a supper of damper, cold meat, and cheese, Lucas laid his blankets on top of the cart under the clear, star-filled sky. Staring into space, feeling secure beneath such vastness, he allowed the memories from earlier in the day which he’d discarded to come to the fore, where they could be reexamined.
The momentous change in his life had happened in eighteen sixty-eight. He was sixteen but looked older, due to his tall, powerful build. Well-educated, smart, and, unknown to himself, extremely attractive to the opposite sex, he’d started working as a clerk for renowned London lawyer Jeremy Pallin, and after only a few weeks there, Pallin had taken him to one side.
“Now Lucas, lad, I shall be retiring soon and wish to start schooling you in regard to taking over more of the heavy work load. I feel you have the ability, and with less for me to do it will allow me to spend more time with my beautiful new bride.”
Lucas covered his mouth briefly, hiding the start of a smile, for it had become a focus of amusement among the other clerks in the office that Jeremy had been hooked.
“It’s his third marriage, for God’s sake! Will the man never learn?” one asked.
“A Soho dancer,” another commented. “Collette, and well past her best! I bet she jumped at the chance to secure a rich husband. I’ll tell you something…she’s getting bored with the old man already. She’s got her eye on you, lad. Better watch out. She’ll eat you up and spit out the bones!”
Lucas had laughed with them but his blood had run cold. It was true. Collette’s glances were falling on him again and again, just lately with the suggestive licking of her lips, the finger pushing the bodice down over her ample bosom to reveal a large, pink nipple. He’d look away, head bent to his papers, but she’d brushed past him, her hand skimming his thigh, his neck.
And finally, one day, with the office empty, she caught him unawares.
“Well, darling big boy,” Collette cooed, running her tongue over her lips, her eyes raking over his body. “At last, I’ve got you alone. You’ve no idea how often I’ve dreamt about this.” She walked forward, backing Lucas against the filing drawers. Pressing her body against his, she thrust a hand to the waist of his trousers and began tugging at the buttons. “Kiss me,” she hissed against his mouth.
“Mrs. Pallin. Please!” He tried to sidestep her.
“Not so fast.” Collette wound her arms around his neck, her hands in his long hair. Her breathing quickened. “What harm will one little kiss do?”
“No!” Lucas pulled her arms away and held them behind her back. “I don’t want to kiss you.”
Collette’s eyes darkened. “How dare you?” she spat. “You jumped-up little pen-pusher! Let go of me at once.”
As Lucas released her arms Collette sprang at him, fists flailing, one catching his eye.
“You’re a good for nothing bit of a kid…”
“Stop, please, Mrs. Pallin.”
To protect his face from her fists, Lucas pushed her away, but she grabbed at him and together they stumbled, falling to the floor. Her skirt flew up and Lucas landed between her legs. He didn’t hear the door open.
“What in God’s name is going on?” Jeremy Pallin yelled, rushing to the writhing couple on his office floor. “Get up at once Helm,” he shouted.
“Dearest, oh, my dearest, Jeremy,” Collette cried, scrambling to her feet, pulling her dress down. “Thank goodness you came along. This despicable man almost raped me!”
“You damn wild oaf, Helm!” Jeremy Pallin lunged at Lucas, punching him so hard he remembered nothing until he came to in a prison cell.
Three weeks later at the trial, no one showed the slightest interest in the young man’s badly bruised face or his pleas of innocence. The jury only saw the tall powerful build of him against the slight, whimpering, crying Collette. Their minds were made up.
Lucas was sentenced to fifteen years in a penal colony in Western Australia. The guard who had befriended him agreed on Lucas’ final night in England to take a letter to Collette Pallin, pleading for her to tell the truth.
“Please make sure she gets this?” Lucas said. “I’m innocent. Only Mrs. Pallin can help me now.”
The following day, the guard assured Lucas the letter had been delivered by his girlfriend, a lady’s maid, but no reply came, and three days later, Lucas set sail in the bowels of the clipper Onward, with distrust in his heart for all women.
But all that angst was behind him now. Shifting down under the blankets, Lucas heard the soft chomping of the horses on the lush grass. He tried to locate the Southern Cross in the huge space above him, but his eyelids felt heavy. Relaxing, he let his eyes close.
Chapter Three
As the ship nudged along the quayside, Ella felt the anxiety of the past few days fade. Everything looked wonderful. Row upon row of ships, tall masts swaying and clattering, lined the waterfront. Behind were colorful wooden buildings, highlighted by the sun beating down from a blue cloudless sky. She breathed deeply. Spices, wool, fruit, wood—Ella wrinkled her nose—the ships had to empty their rubbish somewhere, she supposed.
Her small trunk lay at her feet. It contained only enough clothes until the household goods arrived. Due to overloading on the Venture, they had been stowed on another vessel and wouldn’t arrive for six weeks. Thomas had been angry at first, but placated by Captain Moreland’s assurance that maybe it was for the best.
“It will save you the worry of storing fine clothes and furniture in a warehouse. Some of them are dubious to say the least,” he’d said.
Now Ella wondered if that had been wise. What she had with her was scant. Fresh clothes would be a must in this heat. Already perspiration had dampened her outer- and underwear. How she longed for a wash.
Thomas’ chest, Ella had left in Captain Moreland’s hands for him to dispose of as he saw fit, secure in the knowledge that they would be going where they would be sorely needed. His suggestion was the seaman’s mission, a choice she was happy with.
The ship docked with a sudden shudder. Work started immediately. The gangplank clanged down, shouting, laughing men hauled at the ropes as they tied the vessel in place, and out of the corner of her eye, Ella saw Captain Moreland approaching. He tipped his hat.
“May I, Mrs. Bickerstaff, put at your disposal the offer of my carriage to take you into town?”
“How kind. Thank you. That will be most welcome.”
“Er…have you made arrangements for accommodation?”
“Yes. My husband had thought of that. He booked a room at The Railway Hotel. We intended staying there until we found a suitable place to live.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Well rest assured you will find the rooms at the Railway clean and comfortable. It is where I stay also until the ship returns home. I’ll have your bags loaded and we’ll be on our way.”
»»•««
Ella’s room at the hotel overlooked a back yard with stable blocks on either side and a constant coming and going of horses and traps. Beyond the yard and above the expanse of red-tiled roofs, she could see the swaying mast tops of the boats in the harbor. Opening the windows, she pushed them back as far as they would go, allowing a welcome breeze in.
“Phew!” She fanned her face. “It is so hot.”
Turning away, still wobbly on her sea legs, she inspected her room with pleasure. Large with a high ceiling, it held a double-sized bed encased in mosquito netting, a big chest of drawers, hanging space for her c
lothes, and best of all, a sink. She turned the tap on and smiled, delighted to see clean water come out. Stripping off her clothes, she soaked a cloth, rubbed it vigorously with a bar of lavender soap, and washed herself thoroughly.
Evening was drawing in and hunger pangs rumbled. Not having eaten since breakfast on the ship that morning, Ella tied the ribbons around her waist, settling the laden bag against her thighs, and opened her chest, dismayed to see the few clothes were already showing signs of mildew. She chose the least affected, a blue cotton dress, having already decided there would be no more black clothes for her in this heat, and arranged the folds of the skirt, collected her room key, and after locking the door, went in search of the dining room.
»»•««
Situated at the front of the hotel, the capacious room seemed already full when Ella walked in. Instantly there was a cessation of talk as all attention turned on her.
The blue cotton dress with the demure neckline and full skirt she knew did nothing to hide the sensuous curves of her young body, the slightness of her waist only serving to emphasize the full, soft swelling breasts. Her black hair she’d left free to lie on her shoulders. Her gaze travelled the room, well aware of the interest, and it seemed, disapproval, her arrival had aroused.
Ella frowned and pursed her lips, thinking that no doubt the news of her widowhood had already reached the people in the room, and she watched as female eyes, alarm showing in them, raked over her.
“Excuse me, madam,” a voice said at her side. “Do you want a table?”
Ella turned to look at the snooty man, nose in the air, who had asked the question.
He thinks I am unfit for his dining room!
She raised one eyebrow. “No,” she said coolly, “I couldn’t possibly carry one, a meal will suffice.”
Hearing a hoot of laughter she turned to see Captain Moreland. “That’s all right, Joseph,” he said, smiling at Ella, “the lady can join me at my table. If,” he added politely, “you wish to, of course.”
Australian Odyssey Page 2
