Ella

by Virginia Taylor

  He’d quickly turned his back when he’d seen the old man, therefore he didn’t know if Sam had noticed him. Likely he hadn’t, for he hadn’t approached and surely he would have if he’d seen Cal. Strangely, Girl hadn’t raced over to Sam. She loved the ex-stable manager but instead of leaving Cal, she stuck to him like a shirt to sweat and had remained at his side ever since.

  For a moment he suspected that Edward might be in Noarlunga as well, for the two old men were bosom buddies, although an unlikelier combination no one could imagine, the one well born and wealthy and the other practical but uneducated. He wondered if they had known where Cal was all along but then he decided that if an irascible old tyrant wanted to spy on his grandson, it mattered not. Nothing would change the outcome of Cal’s mission, and in another two days he would be gone.

  Cal had lingered in the post office until he saw Rose leave the grocery store with her flour sack. Dodging under her parasol, he used the sack on his shoulder to hide his face should Sam still be around. He hustled Rose and Vianna off as quickly as he could and he didn’t spot Sam again.

  “You haven’t caught me up yet.” Frank eyed Cal’s few shorn sheep. “Your days off must’ve worn you to the bone.”

  “Somebody did.” Ned angled his head with satisfaction. “The little lady acts tuckered out, too.”

  “Insinuate anything again and I’ll break your jaw.” Cal narrowed his eyes.

  Ned moistened his lips. “I was joshing. I wouldn’t do a thing to hurt her. Not a thing. She’s a plucky little sort, and I have a good deal of time for her. A good deal.”

  No one smirked or nudged. Cal decided that Ella had the respect she deserved from the shearers. As long as he didn’t leave her carrying his child, he could leave her with a clear conscience knowing he would return as soon as he could.

  * * * *

  “Good afternoon,” said Mildred Cameron. “You’re quite the gadabout these days, Mr. Lynton.”

  “Not by choice.” Edward rose to his feet. A tea dance, they called this function. To him it seemed very similar to the other functions he had attended with Irene. The same group of people appeared to be invited to everything and lately he had become a weathered fixture, too. “Irene can be very persuasive.”

  “Oh, I know, I know. Sit, do, please.” Mrs. Cameron sat beside him. She was a nice-looking woman, this godmother of the Beaufort girl, well dressed in a stiff, dark blue fabric. A slightly darker velvet choker was pinned around her neck with a brooch edged by seed pearls.

  A group of pretty young ladies passed and acknowledged him. He wondered how popular he would be if he didn’t have either a fortune or a tall, handsome grandson. One might think him the most attractive man in the world given the attention they paid him.

  “This heat is appalling, isn’t it?” Mrs. Cameron used a fan painted with a rural scene to make a breeze under her chin.

  “It’s a veritable winter’s day compared to the days on Farvista.”

  “In that case, I don’t know how you tolerate it.”

  “I love it, dear lady. It’s my life.”

  She smiled. “Has your grandson the same opinion? If so, he’ll change his mind when he marries. His wife will want a house in town every bit as gracious as Irene’s.”

  “Irene certainly didn’t want to live at Farvista.” Edward didn’t know Charlton’s opinion of Farvista. He’d always assumed the place wouldn’t be as interesting to his grandson as his exciting life in the big city.

  “Daniel McLaren now, he’s a city man. I don’t think he could bear life out on a farm.”

  “Station,” Edward contradicted yet again, though he didn’t know why he bothered. None of these town people seemed to care that there might be a difference. “And who is Mr. McLaren?”

  “The young red-haired gentleman over there.” She pointed to the chap with the silly sister he’d met some days ago. “He went to school with Charlton, remember?”

  “Ah, yes, the one without a current position.”

  “Are you sure you don’t have a job for him? He has a good brain and an ability to take orders without argument. He would make an excellent employee for a man who needs an assistant with a head for figures.”

  “The man is under his sister’s foot.”

  “Moved from that position, who knows how far he could rise?”

  “What interest do you have in him, madam?”

  “Call it altruism.” She shaded her expression with her fan.

  The silence lingered. Edward cleared his throat. “Your goddaughter in Noarlunga? Do you have any news of her?”

  “Indeed, yes. Although she hasn’t settled the date, she will be arriving back in the city soon. Two days ago she sent a letter asking if she and her two younger sisters might stay with me until they found permanent accommodation elsewhere.”

  “She has sold the station?”

  “I don’t believe so, though I know it is planned. She spoke of ‘good news’ and ‘I would be pleased to hear,’ but as for facts, none. Rose is a self-contained person rather like her mother, who was my best friend. Alice never told me a thing. I couldn’t have been more astonished when she suddenly married Payn Beaufort, charming though he was. I am expecting...” she heaved a tremendous sigh, “that I will be the last to hear of Rose’s marriage plans. At least I am trying to make sure of her security. That is the responsibility of a godmother, I believe.”

  Edward heard “marriage plans” and knew, even without word from Sam, that Charlton had made a decision. In the good old days, sons and heirs accepted ladies of their family’s choosing. Given an option, Edward wouldn’t choose for Charlton a young lady who would lure him away from Farvista. “Self-contained.” That was all very well and good, but was the woman a fortune seeker? By the sound of it, yes. She may even have formulated the plan to get Charlton to leave Farvista without word, knowing how worried Edward would be, worried enough to let Charlton live where he pleased with the harpy. “And she is very beautiful, I hear.”

  “Amazingly so.”

  “May I get a cool drink for you?”

  “So kind,” she said, scanning the room, no doubt looking for some other poor old man to upset.

  Edward rose before the music had a chance to set his ears ringing again. On his way to the hall where the punch bowls had been set out he saw Daniel McLaren, who greeted him with a polite smile. “Good afternoon, sir.”

  “A devotee of loud music, I see.” Edward crammed his gloves into his top pocket, impatient with wearing the useless things indoors. “If you can spare the time, perhaps you can come and see me tomorrow morning,” he said, moving the younger man to the punch bowl. “I might have an interesting proposition for you.”

  He filled the first glass while Daniel huffed, “I’m so very much obliged.”

  Edward nodded. “Take this drink to Mrs. Cameron and tell her that she convinced me to find a place for you. And could you take my leave of her? At my age, the need to relax and enjoy life is overwhelming.”

  Hands deep in his pockets, Edward sauntered home through the quiet, shady streets, noting the sunshine, the blue sky, the trees, and the birds. He didn’t believe Charlton would be influenced by a harpy. He didn’t believe Charlton had left Farvista for any other reason than he wanted to prove to Edward he had grown into a fine, upstanding citizen who could manage Edward’s interests. He did believe he should have given Charlton promotions when he deserved them instead of holding the lad back because he was afraid of losing him.

  Charlton, in love or not, planning to marry or not, would be left to his own devices, left to prove whatever he had decided to prove, although he needed to prove not a thing. Edward had always known, but refused to admit, that in Charlton resided each characteristic of a Lynton that had made the family flourish over centuries: intelligence, loyalty, courage, and most of all, determination.

  Just this morning Edward had met with and questioned a Mr. John Markham, who had listened to Charlton’
s plan for wool auctions in the colony and had agreed to invest one hundred pounds in the project. The businessman had also found and hired a warehouse that would be outfitted for that purpose before Charlton arrived in the city. In the meantime, the warehouse was filling with bales of wool from others who also concurred with the idea.

  Edward had contributed another two hundred pounds to the costs and would, as a shareholder, contribute more when needed. Not being the instigator of the plan but a mere investor had mellowed him into thinking that perhaps young McLaren had certain qualities, too, if only given a chance to show them. Without a chance, where would a man be? Where Charlton was, that’s where—lingering on a station for whatever reason but without a doubt not idle.

  As Charlton wanted to establish a business, Edward had found for him a man who understood the financial ins and outs who might or might not be welcome on his grandson’s payroll. Whatever Charlton’s plan, McLaren would have employment. Edward, ready to hand over the reins, wanted Charlton to have the assistance he needed. The lad could choose where he wished to live and the enterprises he wished to focus on.

  Charlton now had the wherewithal to follow his dreams. Edward had discovered that without his grandson he had wearied of his own.

  Now was the time to sit in the sunshine.

  * * * *

  Cal wondered what had happened to the previous formal structure of the meals at the Beaufort Station. Between the time he and Ella had left and returned, the shearers and the Beaufort sisters had formed a more casual relationship. Young Frank, normally a lanky pest, had in five days grown into a watchful big brother to Vianna, and Ned the lecher was now a helpful supporter of Rose.

  The conversations over meals previously had been careful, but now they were companionable and inclusive. The shearers helped, not with the dishes, but with serving and carrying cups and plates indoors and out. Although Ella seemed too busy to find time to spend with Cal, everyone had somehow relaxed. In fact, Cal was lulled into letting his guard down when Alf held forth about a merino ram called Orimedes. “The greatest ram in the entire colony,” the gun shearer said. “He had progeny who might match him but none who could better him.”

  “If he had a staple twelve inches long, he couldn’t walk under the weight of his fleece,” Benji said, folding his arms.

  “He had a staple twelve inches long,” Alf repeated obstinately.

  “You can say that because none of us are old enough to have seen for ourselves.” Ned laughed. “Just shows your age, oldster.”

  “Nevertheless, he’s right.” Cal grinned. “They had to shear him twice a year, I’ve heard. And one of his sons matched him in that but not in his breeding capacity. There Orimedes was second to none.”

  “Who told you that?” Benji frowned. “I mean, that one of his sons had a fleece as long.”

  “I saw it for myself when I was younger.”

  “Where did you see it?” Ella gave him a suspicious, under her lashes, glance.

  Cal hesitated but thought he could avoid the trap. “At Farvista. Edward Lynton owns most of Orimedes’ progeny. He owned Orimedes, too.”

  “Did you work at Farvista?” Rose passed the vegetables to Alf.

  Cal nodded, not willing to share more.

  “In that case, no one would doubt your word as to the fleeces,” Rose said firmly. “Did you ever meet Charlton Lynton?”

  “Rarely.”

  “Ah, the young heir.” Ella frowned at Vianna, who was feeding Girl under the table. “Did you meet him in the city, Rose? He’d be a great catch.”

  Rose didn’t even blink. “Aunt Mildred has met him, but I haven’t.”

  “That’s Rose’s Aunt Mildred,” Vianna explained to Frank. She wiped her hands on her skirt. “We have to call her Mrs. Cameron.”

  Cal had indeed met Mrs. Mildred Cameron, a friend of his mother. The woman had tried to pair him with Daniel McLaren’s pretty sister, whose name he couldn’t remember.

  “When he did the ball season last year, he caused quite a stir. I believe he’s extremely handsome. I attended one of the same balls, but I didn’t see him. I heard he was flirting desperately with Grace McLaren most of the night, but nothing came of it. Grace thought he was one of those rich, spoiled men who couldn’t be pleased.”

  Involuntarily, Cal raised his eyebrows and noticed Alf staring at him, grinning. Cal flipped his gaze back to Rose.

  “I was preoccupied, and after that Aunt Mildred thought balls rather a bore. She decided we should attend more intimate gatherings.”

  Ella turned to Cal, who had finished his meal. “And is the young heir a rich, spoiled man who can’t be pleased?”

  He leaned back in his seat. “By a woman?”

  “By anything.”

  “He’s not jaded if that’s what you mean,” Cal said, concentrating. “But perhaps he’s a little too intent on having his own way.”

  “Spoiled.” Rose wrinkled her nose. “Just as Grace said.”

  Ella began to collect the plates. “That’s such a shame. I don’t like to think that money can make a person horrible because I mean to be very rich myself.”

  “By marrying into money.” Cal experienced the sudden annoyance of jealousy. The Lord only knew how long it would take him to have enough money to be considered rich. “I don’t think money is a firm foundation on which to build a marriage.”

  “Then again,” Alf said, concentrating on his empty pipe. “We think the ladies we love should have the best we can give ’em.”

  Cal couldn’t argue with that premise. He caught Ella’s gaze but, as she had for the past few days, she made herself busy, this time taking the plates into the kitchen with Vianna. He did his very best to catch her alone the next day, but she continued to surround herself with others. To indicate he wanted to talk to her alone had grown damned near impossible. Even when he signaled, she looked blank. He could hardly grab her and run off with her to talk, given the watching eyes, and so not until Saturday morning, his last day on the station did he have an opportunity.

  He watched Ella approach. The Clydesdales stood patiently as he harnessed each to the shearer’s wagon. Had she not appeared soon, he would have had to knock on the homestead door and ask to see her. He had barely an hour left to ask her to wait a few months for him to gather enough money to support her and her family. The time span didn’t seem unreasonable—unless he had gotten her with child.

  He hoped he hadn’t, for then he would need to marry her within the month and leave her on the station until he had proved himself—that or send her and her sisters to his grandfather having proved absolutely nothing more than he was a dilettante like his father.

  “Cal, Rose and I have discussed your wool auction idea and want to participate.”

  He stepped back, eying obstinate Ella, clear-thinking Ella, lovely Ella, who was the only woman he would ever want in his life. “Are you sure? I will certainly sell the wool, but I might have to find the buyers in Victoria if I can’t get them to come here.”

  “Do you think you can get them to come here?”

  “I wouldn’t be suggesting the project to growers if I didn’t. And of course, the more wool I have, the more likely I am to attract buyers.”

  “Because of the horses, money isn’t as vital to us now as it was. We can wait.”

  “This is my last shearing job. I’m off this very day to begin my business in the city. Cobb is contracted to take your wool to Goolwa. I expect he’ll arrive some time next week. I’ll tell him to take your wool to Port Adelaide instead.” He fumbled in his pocket. “Here. I wrote out my address for you since you’ve been so evasive.” He tried to catch her eye, but she eluded his gaze yet again to read his carefully written business address.

  Folding the paper into a tight wad she said, “Thank you.” She heaved a breath. “I would like you to know...we won’t be obliged to marry. I found out on Thursday when I awoke.”

  “Oh. You sound pleased.” He s
ounded disgruntled and he didn’t know why. Perhaps because he wanted to be sure of having her.

  “I would hardly be disappointed.” For the first time in days, she met his gaze. “And so that’s it.”

  “That’s what?”

  She shrugged. “Now we can each make a fresh start. We have to face facts. We shared an adventure that took us from our real lives for a moment in time, but you have a career to establish and I have a family to support. And I will do so the best way I know how.”

  He moistened his lips. “What are you saying?”

  “Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye?” He planted his fists on his hips.

  “You don’t have to marry me.” She stared at her feet. “And I don’t have to leave my sisters in the lurch. I do hope you make a success of yourself. We want as much money as possible for the wool. I’m used to the finer things in life.”

  His jaw firmed. “And you won’t marry without being sure you’ll have them.”

  “No.” She turned, spine straight, and headed back to the homestead.

  He stared at the Clydesdales, who patiently waited in the hot sun. He stared at Frank, who brought out his sleeping pack, and he stared at the others when they began to add their own loads. Wrapping himself in silence, he took the driver’s seat and in no time the remaining shearers bundled themselves in, too.

  The ladies stood by the back door of the homestead and waved, but he didn’t turn to watch. After all, he’d known Ella for a scant two weeks. He might have enjoyed her optimism, her humor, and her willingness to learn, but this had been a momentary episode in his life, as she had said.

  Ten miles later, having churned her words over again and again, he accepted her honesty. To her credit, she’d never let him think she loved him. Strangely, he hadn’t mentioned he loved her, either, though he had certainly shown her. A man wouldn’t take a woman with such aching tenderness had he not been completely besotted.

  He eventually climbed down from the wagon in a town not a mile away from the team’s next job. With the others, he drank too much in the local pub. As he staggered into the room he had hired for the night, he recognized that every man needed a first love so that he could settle with his last.