Ella

by Virginia Taylor

  “I’m perfectly happy with the amber. I think the little shop girl did well for me.” Ella didn’t want the girl reported. No harm had been done and some good.

  For the first time in her life, Ella appreciated that she and Rose were not alike, in looks, tastes, or personality. Whatever suited her sister didn’t necessarily suit her. How strange that she’d never considered their differences. She’s always assumed that what was best for one was best for the others and that they would stay together.

  “If we can’t get Rose married off to the Lynton heir, and he has proved to be quite difficult to please, we have another option,” Aunt said to Ella. “Your turn will come.”

  “I won’t marry,” Ella said. “I have Vianna to consider.”

  “I’m sure Vianna won’t mind if you marry. Will you?” Aunt gave Vianna a poke in the arm.

  “Of course not. If she doesn’t, I’ll feel very guilty when I leave her to marry Cal.”

  “And is Cal one of your little playmates from home?”

  “Cal is a shearer,” Rose said coldly. “No matter how he jumps himself up, he can’t be a match for one of Papa’s daughters. Vianna is being very silly, and I don’t know why. She must know better.”

  Vianna’s eyes filled with tears. “You used to be much nicer when we lived at the station. I don’t know why you are being so mean.”

  Ella put her arm around Vianna. “We’re all tired, I expect, and fractious. We’ve recently made a long journey after selling the home we’ve lived in all our lives. After such changes, I think we can allow each other some liberties. Let’s have lunch. That should perk us up.”

  * * * *

  A week passed. Ella had two fittings for her ball gown. Whenever she could, she had the piebald saddled and she rode along the Torrens River, trying to see similarities to home. She saw few. In Adelaide, the weather seemed drier, the grass more yellow, the trees taller or shorter, the birds less visible and not as pretty, and the people less friendly. She saw the fat driver from the mews twice more, but he refused to acknowledge her. As she didn’t need to be his friend, she didn’t care.

  She didn’t care that Rose thought of nothing but her clothes. She didn’t care that she rarely saw Vianna, who had formed a strong friendship with a girl from school and now repeated everything the girl said.

  She only cared that she’d had to say good-bye to Cal.

  Chapter 19

  Edward rested his knife and fork on his plate. He and Irene had just begun dinner. Normally, an uninvited guest would be asked to wait in the hall, but footsteps followed the housekeeper to the dining room. He turned.

  The doors opened with a dramatic swing. Charlton stood there, his dog at his heel. Chin raised, mouth firm, wearing faded cotton trousers and a blue shirt, he looked hard and tanned and very dear. Edward rose, but Irene practically flew out of her chair to embrace her son.

  “Where have you been, you naughty boy?” She pushed him into the nearest dining chair. “Have you eaten? Of course not. Mrs. Baxter, have another place set and Mr. Charlton’s room made up. And take the dog to the kitchen for a nice big bone. My goodness, Cal, your grandfather has been worrying about you. I haven’t, of course, because I’m not the one who has tried to confine you for the whole of your life.”

  “Harumph” was the most intelligent statement Edward could make after Irene’s comment.

  “Have you been worrying?” Charlton’s mouth twisted, watching Girl leave with the housekeeper.

  Edward pursed his lips. “In one sense. You didn’t tell me you were going and I thought I might never see you again. However, I didn’t worry about your safety. I know you are perfectly capable of fending for yourself.” He held his breath.

  Charlton nodded. He waited while the table was set in front of him with a silver charger and cutlery. “I didn’t plan to see you until I’d proved my point. You wouldn’t listen when I tried to explain and so I decided to show you instead.”

  “So I surmised.” Clearing his throat, Edward bent his head, watching his long white fingers trembling on his knee. “My journey to this revelation was longer than between Farvista and here. Along the way, I learned much about you and me. I learned that I love you as much as I loved your father.” His voice became unexpectedly gruff. “I learned that I couldn’t force either of you to follow in my footsteps. He was and you are your own men. Your dreams might not be mine, but you have a right to them.”

  “Which is why you employed McLaren to spy on me?” Charlton raised his eyebrows.

  Edward had missed the stimulation of his grandson’s quick mind. “Indeed. Your idea was sound. I never thought otherwise. But you are the heir to my worldly possessions, including the land I’ve worked most of my life. I thought you might be able to use McLaren as your manager. I don’t want a small business taking priority over Farvista.”

  “Nor do I want that.”

  “I thought you wanted the wool brokerage?”

  Charlton shrugged. “It’s not incompatible with managing the station. In fact, I see it as an adjunct. The one thing should run with the other. If we want the best prices and conditions, we can’t hope others will provide for us.”

  Edward considered. “That may be.” He lowered his gaze. “You have a sound business sense, and I’m sometimes a hasty-tempered old fool. My name is yours and you have as much right to it as I.”

  “I had something to prove and I did quite well without using your name.” Finally served dinner, Charlton cut off a piece of roast beef and chewed with unusual relish. “I thought I would prove myself over the business of the wool auctions, but after I did I realized that beginning a business wasn’t my main concern. I needed to prove my capabilities. Prove them.” He speared a potato and paused. “Not have it accepted that because I am your grandson and heir I can measure up to you. I know now I’m a survivor. With your backing or without it I will get by.”

  “I never doubted it.”

  “Nor did I,” Irene interjected with a charming smile.

  For the first time Charlton appeared to relax. He took a great gulp of the red wine in front of him and held the glass aloft, examining the color in the glow of the central candles. “I’m pleased to be reinstated in your affections, Grandfather, make no mistake. But I will go ahead with the auction idea. I have to for McLaren’s sake. He wants to marry and he needs a steady income. By the way, he will make a good manager. Facts and figures absorb him.”

  “I’m glad he pleases you,” Edward said simply. “For if he didn’t, he’d be put off.”

  “That would be my responsibility.” Charlton tilted his chin with arrogance.

  Edward inclined his head. “Point taken.”

  “I’ve contacted those who have been at the sales in Victoria and told them that we’ll hold our own sales here next week. I’ve already interviewed wool classers and auctioneers.”

  Edward nodded, pleased to hear the same Charlton he had known, the man who always had a well-thought-out plan of action. McLaren had told him nothing of this. He’d heard only that Charlton had arrived and taken over. The lad was indeed a survivor.

  “What about the Beaufort girl?” Irene asked with careful deliberation. “Is the relationship serious?”

  Charlton swirled the wine in his glass. “You had word of her from Sam, I imagine?”

  “Did you spot him?”

  “Lurking around corners and asking questions of people who know nothing about me. He’s not subtle, as I’m sure you know.”

  “I might have known he’d have a heavy hand.” Edward clamped his lips.

  Irene straightened her spine. “Am I expecting a daughter-in-law?”

  He shook his head, his expression unusually grim. “She wants a rich husband.”

  She smiled indulgently. “In you she wouldn’t find a richer one.”

  “She knows me as plain Cal Langdon and refused me as such.” Almost idly, he chased a pea around his plate with a fork.

 
“She refused Cal Langdon?” Irene said with indignation. “Would she refuse Charlton Lynton?”

  “She would marry any man rich enough to support her sisters.”

  “In that case, she can’t be all bad.” Irene’s eyes began to sparkle. Edward could see her mentally counting grandchildren.

  “She isn’t even slightly bad. She is the most incredible woman I have ever met,” Charlton said stiffly.

  Irene tapped her elegant fingers on the table. “You need to be aware that she and her sisters are in town and have been invited to our ball.”

  Charlton sat very still. “If she sees me at the ball, she’ll see me as Charlton.”

  “And she ought to be impressed to see you well-dressed and not smelling of sheep.” Irene wrinkled her nose. “So, you love her?”

  Charlton’s expression looked bleak. “Past bearing. But I won’t buy her love.”

  For a moment, the only sound in the room was Irene’s fingernail tapping on the table. “You know why she needs money. And we don’t know what she thinks of Cal Langdon. What if she loves him despite his lack of money?”

  “I’m at your service,” Edward said, sparking up. “Together, two men should be able to discover the workings of the mind of one woman.”

  * * * *

  Rose opened the hand-delivered letter addressed to the Misses Beaufort and shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Lately we’ve had such amazing luck. Look, Ella. It’s the wool-clip money. Cal has sold our wool.”

  “He said he would.” Ella scanned the bank draft, hoping for a personal message or even a friendly greeting, but she found only a formal accounting.

  Rose put the draft into her bedside drawer. “Seven hundred and eighty-five pounds. My. We can bank the money until we need it.” Apparently losing interest, she went back to gazing at her new ball gown.

  The dressmaker had delivered the ice blue and the amber just an hour ago. Anxiously awaited, the gowns were to be worn tonight to the Lynton’s ball. Ella had glanced at hers and had duly admired the swish of the crisp material. “We should invest the money immediately.” She stared at the drawer in which the bank draft resided. Cal had come through. His plan had worked and he now had the opportunity to make a success of himself. “I need to know if I will have to find a job.”

  Rose frowned. “I would be most embarrassed if you did. In our own house, with the money we have already, we’ll be secure enough until we marry.”

  “I might not marry.”

  “You’ll meet someone here I’m sure.”

  “I’m not sure I will.”

  “Really, Ella. This isn’t the sort of thing we need to discuss right now. I don’t want anything to spoil my mood. I want to look beautiful tonight and attract Mr. Charlton Lynton.”

  “I hope you’re not putting all our eggs in one basket.”

  Rose gave a tight smile. “Trust me, I’m not. Now, the question is, should I wear Mama’s pendant?” She held up a teardrop pearl hanging from a bow of small diamonds.

  “It looks very nice with the blue.”

  Rose held a miniature of the pendant to each lobe and studied herself in the mirror. “I want to look untouched and untouchable.”

  “You’ll look glorious. You always do.” Ella left for her own room. Her gown lay on her bed. The elegant creation had tiny off-the-shoulder cap sleeves, a pin-tucked skirt front, and a tightly boned bodice. Her elbow-length gloves lay beside the gown and her dancing shoes on the floor beneath. Her petticoats hung on the bedpost. As she had a few hours left before she needed to dress, she ordered a bath.

  She soaked, wishing she could be Rose, single-minded and certain of her charms. Tonight she would be the plain brown contrast that demonstrated Rose’s divine beauty. Ella accepted her place but not with enthusiasm.

  Aunt’s maid planned to style Rose’s hair after doing her employer’s. Ella would manage her own. In the steam from the bath, she ragged ringlets in the back and, once out of the water, she began to plait the front sections, wanting to imitate the fashionable style she’d seen Rose wear occasionally.

  The maid’s voice echoed from Rose’s room. Vianna popped her head in the doorway. “You should see Rose. She looks finer than a wedding cake. She is wearing Mama’s diamond clip in her hair.”

  Ella stepped into her gown, which Vianna fastened. The silk fitted like an expensive kid glove. She hoped the boning wouldn’t impede her breathing. “Would you help me take the rags out of my hair? I keep getting tangled.”

  “Your hair is very thick. It doesn’t curl like Rose’s. Some of these bits are...dangly rather than springy. Wait a moment.” Vianna left the room.

  Ella examined her reflection, agreeing that each ringlet drooped to a different level. She tried to pin the curls. Her arms began to ache.

  Vianna arrived with the maid, Pender, in tow. Pender said, “I’ve been wanting to style your hair for weeks, Miss Ella.”

  Ella sat with her hands in her lap while Pender undid the plaits and brushed straight the half-formed curls. “There,” she finally said with satisfaction.

  Ella couldn’t have been more disappointed. Her hair looked absolutely plain, pinned in a smooth knot on the top. She would never have a chance to be beautiful.

  “Oh, Ella,” Vianna said. “You look exquisite. Doesn’t she, Pender?”

  “Miss is a lovely girl. In that color and with the utter simplicity of the style of her hair and her gown, she will shine like a sunbeam tonight.”

  “Not a star?” Ella asked dryly.

  “That would be your sister. Your appeal is more subtle.”

  Ella examined herself in the mirror again and again. Did she look lovely? Or very, very plain? Was subtle a synonym for nonexistent? She decided she looked unusual.

  “You should wear something around your neck.” Vianna narrowed her eyes critically.

  Ella frowned at her. She owned no jewelry other than a gold cross. Everything Mama had owned had been left to Rose. “Pender implied that simplicity is more my style.” She tried to glimpse the back of her hair in the mirror Pender held.

  When the maid had been thanked and had left the room, Vianna said in a quiet voice, “I think Rose is very mean not to let you have some of Mama’s jewels. Your money from your horses will be paying for our house.”

  “Ella offered us her money.” Rose always seemed to appear when she was being discussed, a talent not shared by many people. “Whatever she does with her three hundred guineas is her decision. And as it happens, I brought this in for her to wear.” Chin jutted, she offered an amber necklace made of big uneven beads clasped in gold. Not one of Mama’s more exclusive pieces, the beads had rarely been worn her lifetime.

  Ella held the necklace around her neck. “I like it,” she said, noticing for the first time the greenish-blue of her eyes, the creaminess of her skin, and the warmth of her sun-streaked hair. “It’s just the thing. Thank you, Rose.” She kissed Rose. She kissed Vianna.

  She didn’t doubt that tonight should mark a new chapter in her life.

  * * * *

  Ella, in awe, trailed into the Lynton mansion behind Aunt and Rose. The hallway was the length of three large rooms and lined with huge, gold-framed paintings. Mrs. Lynton stood near a pair of white marble columns greeting guests. Aunt led the way to her.

  “They’ve hung painted silk on the walls,” Ella said under her breath to her sister.

  “My charges, Miss Rose Beaufort and Miss Dorella,” Aunt said to Mrs. Lynton.

  “Delighted,” Mrs. Lynton said, scanning Rose with her eyes. “Delightful. And Miss Dorella. Such a pretty pair.” She linked her arm with Rose’s and bore her off into the ballroom as if she had just met the last of her guests.

  Aunt made a moue of her mouth and took Ella’s arm. “I think she must be taking Rose to meet the heir. I didn’t realize she was in such...” She broke off. “Ah. Mr. Lynton. I didn’t expect to see you at a ball, bearing in mind what you think of supper
dances.” She spoke to a tall, elderly man with white hair, thick sideburns, and a dashing moustache.

  He inclined his head. “I wouldn’t want to miss this one. This would be the younger Miss Beaufort, I presume?”

  Ella curtsied to him. She didn’t know why, other than that his tall, imposing presence seemed to expect it. “Dorella Beaufort.” She smiled at the man who had Aunt’s attention. “You would be the heir’s grandfather?”

  “The heir?” He looked startled. “You mean Charlton?”

  “None other.”

  He gave a courteous inclination of his head. “He is my grandson, yes. Mrs. Cameron says you lived on a sheep station. Before you are overwhelmed by dance partners, may I have the honor of your company?”

  Aunt stood, momentarily at a loss. “Perhaps I should go and chaperone Rose?”

  Mr. Lynton, with natural courtesy, offered his arm. “I meant you—plural.”

  Aunt smiled uncertainly. Ella took his other arm and he escorted them into the ballroom, where he found a row of velvet chairs as yet unoccupied. Without any visible indications of his need, he summoned up three glasses of champagne, brought over by a green-coated manservant. Ella sipped the surprisingly tart bubbly liquid, not sure if she liked it. After the second sip, she did. “This is the life.”

  “Not like life on the station?” the old man asked. “I want to ask your opinion, my dear. Recently I met a young man named Cal Langdon. He seems a steady chap with a good head on his shoulders and he referred to your sheep station as his last place of employment.” He waited.

  “He was there.” Ella’s heart bumped erratically. “He came with the shearing team.”

  “Would you recommend him for a position with me?”

  Ella wet her lips. “He’s absolutely reliable and utterly trustworthy. I would recommend him to anyone for anything. He helped us get our station back on its feet, if stations have feet. He also helped get our stolen horses back. Because of him and his knowledge of land management, we have sold our property for a very good price and will soon be able to set up ourselves in the city.” Her eyes prickled.