by Darry Fraser
It wouldn’t bother her to sleep on the thing now. The bed linens had been washed, and washed again at the other house, much to Enid’s consternation. Nell hadn’t been able to burn them before she left the first time and Enid had taken them to be laundered. At least Nell would be able to nod off without fear of being abused in the middle of the night. She’d gone well beyond hating Andrew—she had a much more satisfying emotion than that. She despised him.
There were times lately she’d wake suddenly in the dead of night, her heart racing, her skinny clammy, and imagined she could hear him snoring beside her.
Pushing that ugliness away, the foreboding aside, she continued to grapple her way under the mattress for the promissory notes stashed in an envelope there. Andrew had thought he’d hidden them from her. Not this time. They’d help her start a new life and be easier to pass off than the bars and nuggets, which would have to wait until she could get them weighed and exchanged without causing a fuss. Other nuggets were hidden in the mantel above the cooker.
Oh, too much worry and bother. She huffed as she withdrew her arm, tiring in the heat and the stuffiness in the room. Resting on her knees a moment, she wondered what on earth she was doing. Going back to the diggings would be the best idea. Many women worked for themselves there. She would be all right.
Then again, maybe not. The promissory notes—she should gather everything possible to ease the way. More groping under the mattress. Where was the blasted thing? Again, she withdrew her empty hand, sure that the envelope had been within easy reach. Slumped on the floor, frowning, she suddenly recalled. Good lord, her mind was as woolly as the mattress. Enid had sent a woman in to clean the house after Nell had moved out. She’d been instructed to ‘turn the house upside down’ and so Nell had shifted her cache before the woman had a chance to flip the mattress.
Pushing to her feet, her head swimming just a little, she steadied and turned for the small dresser. Pulling out the drawer that had been packed with her smalls—all cottons and plain apparel—she felt at the back on the frame itself for the envelope wedged in a corner.
Sighing with relief, she cursed her dull mind. Tugging the envelope out, she fell beside the dresser and with determined fingers, found the notes and a tiny button of gold within. At least it was something she could redeem without attracting any notoriety. Mrs Willey’s store, the one Andrew had frequented, would honour the notes. She would secure the envelope to her person along with a few other nuggets sewn into her hem.
She set to work in the parlour room, close to the window to catch as much light as possible, and unpicked the tight neat stitches of her skirt. Her sewing needle flew over hems already freed and she tucked lumpy nuggets inside. There’d been just enough daylight, and no need to light a candle.
She wouldn’t be able to do all of it at once, there were too many nuggets. And what amount of money would there be? Thousands of pounds worth, she thought.
She stood up and checked the weight of her garment. Satisfied she could carry herself without attracting undue attention, Nell gathered herself for the walk back to Wilshire House. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but it was part of the plan. Twilight was nearly gone now, and soon the streets would be dark and deserted, and dangerous for a lone woman.
As she turned for the back door of the house, her breath stopped in her throat. Her pulse banged at her temples.
A figure blocked the doorway.
Eleven
Handing over the note the moment Finn arrived at his stables, Ben had been hopping foot to foot. ‘I get twitchy all over thinkin’ about it. Thinkin’ that Mrs Amberton worked out I was part of the hold-up.’
Finn had read the note, his chest expanding. Sir, I am soon to reside at the house to which Mr Steele delivered me that terrible night. I should like to thank you properly for your unintended kindness to me and would be grateful to have you visit me at your convenience. NA
Inordinately elated, he’d held back his surprise, and looked at Ben. ‘She hasn’t mentioned any such thing in here at all.’ He waved the letter, a smile on his face.
Ben paced. ‘She didn’t say it to me in so many words, but she’d figured it out, all right. She picked it that you brought two horses.’
‘Ah. Clever woman.’ Finn hadn’t bothered concealing the getaway horse meant for Ben. Amberton was the only one he’d expected to see at the coach, so it hadn’t mattered. He’d scanned the letter again. ‘For what it’s worth, mate, it seems she doesn’t give two damns about that. Just keep denying it anyway, and no one will be able to prove otherwise.’
‘Yeah, well, I dunno.’
‘I don’t reckon there’s any chance you’re in danger.’
So here he was. At her house, as bidden. Since Finn had received the note, time and again he’d tried to reason with himself, to resist. Her note was bold, yet innocent. Tantalising, but naïve. Her invitation fraught with danger. And how he wanted to see her. He wanted to touch that proud face, stroke her hair and feel her in his arms, this strong, intelligent woman. He hadn’t felt like that in all the years since his wife Louisa had passed. Never looked at a woman again for anything other than physical release.
He didn’t want to frighten her, didn’t want to sneak up on her. He’d watched her enter her house, alone, and knew it was not a trap. Then he saw nothing. She had no candle, no flame or tinder to light one, so he couldn’t track her movements. It was clear she hadn’t been expecting anyone, and just as he was about to call out, she appeared in the hallway near the back door.
She stopped, her breath hitched. Her eyes were wide in shock. Fear.
‘Nell.’ His voice was sharp, but he stopped dead in the doorway. He had frightened her, dammit, taken her by surprise, and the kerchief hadn’t helped. If she wanted to run past him screaming now, he’d not stop her.
A moment passed. ‘And what do I call you?’ Breathless and imperious.
He ignored that. ‘I came to see that you are safe. I said I would.’
Another moment passed as she battled her breathing. ‘The wattle. You have been here before.’ Shaky.
‘I have.’
‘Then you would know that, at present, I don’t live in this house.’ Clipped, still short of breath.
Yet she made no move to pass him. Did she feel trapped, perhaps? He stood aside and said, ‘If you would rather not remain here now, I will walk you to wherever you are lodging.’
A short sob escaped her. ‘I have no wish to go there, either. But it is a roof over my head for a short while.’
‘So, you are not as safe as I’d hoped.’
‘It’s not ideal, but I have other plans.’ Another shaky breath expelled. Not so imperious now.
A light fragrance of lavender reached him. In the deepening night, her hair looked darker than the pale blonde it was. Her face seemed to have lost its gaunt hollows but that might only be a trick of the fading light.
‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry I frightened you just now.’
‘A man appearing at the door wearing a kerchief is frightening.’
‘I am still a bushranger.’ He leaned on the doorjamb.
She gave a short laugh. ‘I—Now I don’t know what to say.’
‘In your note, you invited me.’ Or did she regret sending it? He drew in a deep breath and turned to look out into the night. The stars were beginning to emerge in the darkness. He looked back, testing the moment. ‘So I wondered what you might want, and here I am.’
‘I only wanted to thank you,’ she said quickly. ‘In person. I said so.’
‘You’d already done that.’
She stared a moment longer and seemed at a loss for words. Then, ‘You saved me.’
Finn shook his head. ‘Ah. You forget that someone else saved you.’
‘It’s true. The shot that killed Andrew was not yours, but you saved my … you saved me from myself, from being further undignified in such a …’ Inhaling deeply, she went on, firmly. ‘I’m not the sort
of woman that I seemed to be then. I was in a desperate situation.’
‘You were, indeed.’
Her eyes were intent on his. ‘I am normally a virtuous person.’
It seemed she was determined to advise him of that. He let out a breath, hoping she didn’t notice that it shook. ‘I have no doubt of that.’ He wanted her, virtuous, without virtue … Christ, he wanted her now, but not here. Not a furtive fumbling. Not just to release an urgent need. Not just another base act.
She took a step. ‘I didn’t want my letter to have been a mistake, but perhaps I was too bold, too full of my own—’
He straightened, wouldn’t trust himself with her. ‘Don’t come closer, Nell.’
She stopped. ‘I want to explain my actions that day. I was desperate … You deserve an explanation from me, some honesty from me.’ Her hands clasped.
Finn’s heart pounded, his fingers flexed. He wanted to take her where she stood. ‘I don’t deserve a thing. You confuse a lowly bushranger, madam.’
‘You’re not that. I know it.’ She settled herself and took a deep breath. ‘There were many things that drove me to—’ Shaking her head, she lowered it. It seemed she wouldn’t go on. Her hand came up again as if she would touch him, but she didn’t. ‘I just want you to know I’m not such a desperate woman. That here, now, my situation is my own.’
Disappointment hollowed in him. But he should have guessed. Her letter had been naïve after all, and she was just a flighty woman. He’d been a fool coming here. He pushed off the wall, preparing to get the hell out of there. ‘Well then, I’m very happy for you.’
‘Wait—I’m not finished.’ Her eyes were still on his and she caught her bottom lip as if deciding something before she continued. ‘And, at this moment, now you’re here,’ she said, ‘I want you to know that my feelings are not at all virtuous.’
It was that forthright stare that caught him, the unblinking blue gaze. He seized her outstretched hand, pressed her other behind her back, locked her to him. He swung her round so in the doorway the glow of a rising moon illuminated on her face. Clear eyes stared back at him, no fear in them. Her breath came in quick gentle sighs. He felt his legs tense, his belly grip. His penis hardened and would be evident against her.
‘Neither are mine, but this is another madness,’ he whispered, and dropped his chin to the nape of her neck. He pushed down the kerchief and his lips found her warm skin.
Twelve
The scratch of his whiskers on her shoulder sent feather-like thrills tingling over her breasts. Irresistible, and a torment. She couldn’t move, was held fast against him from hip to breast. One more tingling scrape against her neck and his head came up, the kerchief now back in place.
No, no. Her fingers took the edge of it. ‘Oh, but I want to see who you are.’
His hand took hers, smooth and swift. ‘For the while, it has to remain in place.’ He rested his forehead against hers, chest rising and falling, solid, warm. ‘Are you not afraid?’
‘Of what?’ she breathed, searching his green eyes under a puckered brow.
His arms were either side of her, his hands sliding down her hips. Glancing at her face, a short breath escaped him. Hands bunched her skirt, and hard knuckles brushed against her thighs. She gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into him, drawing him closer. Quick to grasp her wrists, he stopped her, and she frowned at the loss of him under her hands.
He hesitated. ‘He hurt you.’
Her heart swelled, and emotion choked out her cry, ‘But you will not.’
He blinked, frowning, and after a sharp breath, he dropped his face to her neck again. ‘You’re right.’ He wrapped her in his arms and stood holding her tight, hugging her. ‘You’re right, I will not hurt you.’
As they stood, her heart entangled, her mind blank, long moments passed. All that she knew, felt, wanted, was that his arms were around her.
When he lifted his head, his voice was muffled, a thrum against her ear. ‘And now, if you are ready to leave for your residence, I will see you safely home.’
Thirteen
Later that evening at Wilshire House, with Lewis still not home and Enid her only company, Nell prepared a light meal of potted meat and potatoes. The sisters-in-law shared it in strained silence for the most part. Enid had told her, a little snip in her tone, that she’d informed Lewis there would be no baby.
Nell’s thoughts were barely on Lewis as she reserved a plate, piled high, for him. She’d gathered her wits enough since arriving back at the house to wonder what plan he might have devised, now he knew Andrew’s estate belonged to him. Her nerves were tightly strung after her encounter with the bushranger. Her stomach was fluttery, making it hard for her to concentrate, but the boiled potatoes had tickled her taste buds. Her heart had still been racing but food was sustenance and thankfully, had settled her.
Enid watched her, eyes narrowed. ‘Are you not well?’
Nell stood to remove the scraped plates into the tub under the kitchen window. ‘I am well, Enid. Thank you for asking after me,’ she said amiably, not turning to look at her. Nell could feel the packet of her cache scratch against her ribs, and though it was a moment’s discomfort each time she moved, it was worth keeping it there.
Enid made a noise, a grunt either of assent or indignation.
Nell hoped to change some smaller pieces of the gold tomorrow, and perhaps would find a better place to hide the rest. The promissory notes would have to be carefully, quietly exchanged. She wouldn’t alert anyone to her sudden good fortune.
Her thoughts returned to the bushranger and her heart skipped a beat again. He was indeed a gentleman, and for the second time had not let her send herself down a road to ruin. She felt a sudden rush of discomfort as she remembered what she’d offered again, but at least she knew he was as willing as she. Was that a bad thing? Surely not. Her circumstances put her well beyond worrying about what it might have looked like to him.
She’d walked swiftly back to Wilshire House, part embarrassed, part filled with joy, part bewildered. He’d stepped behind her, promising to keep her in his sights. At the Wilshire’s, she’d turned to lift her hand in thanks, but he’d already gone. And although she had no way of knowing if she would see him again, her spirits were high.
The night passed uneventfully. Restless and wide awake, Nell heard Lewis come home. He’d stomped about the place, and the subsequent scrape of furniture and occasional slurred expletive indicated how he’d spent his evening.
She hadn’t been disturbed by it. In this house, before they’d moved to the other, Andrew had hammered a bolt across their bedroom door on the outside to prevent her leaving the room, although he’d only used it one time, thankfully. Lewis had reworked it to the inside for her. To assure her of her security, he’d said, now that Andrew was, ahem, gone. Things like that made her wonder if her suspicions about Lewis were wrong. That sliding bolt had given Nell the peace of mind to easily drop off to sleep most nights. It did nothing to prevent her waking later in a sweat, only to remember, when her racing heartbeat settled, that Andrew was gone.
She chided herself. A bolt on her bedroom door was one thing, but hardly a deterrent if anyone really wanted to attack her. Damn Andrew. She still had to be vigilant. Until her head was clear, it could well be that everyone was suspicious now.
Morning burst through her window as it was wont to do, its brilliant light refusing to be ignored. It seemed a much different day today. How could that be? Just because a man had given her a little delight, mystery, and some manners, didn’t mean the world had changed for the better overnight. But this morning it felt a bit like that. The wariness of the night before was a little distant after her first unbroken sleep in months.
Nell felt a moment’s unease that while the bushranger knew where she lived, she had no more information about him. Perhaps with a calm day ahead, her memory might return the teasing bits and pieces of that day of the hold-up, and more of their conversation would come back to he
r.
Needing to visit the privy, she tucked her feet into her slippers, and quickly donned her dressing gown over her night dress to venture outside. As she opened the door, Lewis was exiting his room. His face looked sallow, his hair tousled, and before he saw her, he rolled his tongue around in his mouth and smacked his lips together. He was shirtless, but at least his pants were buttoned up. His feet were bare.
Nell stood in the doorway. ‘Good morning.’
‘Good morning, aunt. Nell,’ he corrected, and looked uncomfortable in the small hallway. He ducked his head. ‘I came in late last night. I hope I didn’t wake you.’
‘You didn’t.’ She saw that he had a bandage around his middle and stared.
He held up his hands. ‘A slight problem falling off my horse. Damn thing was drunk,’ he said. ‘Pardon my language.’
She indicated she needed to pass. ‘If I may?’
‘Of course.’ He retreated inside his room and shut the door.
She wondered what he’d fallen on … after his drunken horse had tossed him. Still, since the fracas last month, many men had appeared to be injured. Perhaps something nasty had happened to Lewis and he hadn’t said. Had he involved himself with the diggers’ unrest? Was he still involved, even now?
Perhaps he had simply fallen off his horse and hit a rock or a stout stick. Either way, if he was healthy enough to spend his evenings getting drunk somewhere, the accident had not seemed to inconvenience him.
She’d heard here and there that there were some men, injured in the blockade, who’d been taken into hiding before the troopers had been able to find and butcher them, or had been able to haul them off to the authorities. It was all over town that casualties—deaths and injuries—were many and varied in number. At least one woman dead, and God forbid, more women and children had been shot at, too. Nell had been told that a Mrs Smith, shot on the night, might not survive her wounds. Some women, and pregnant women as well, had been injured by the troopers, some immorally, it was whispered, long after the skirmish itself.
