The Widow of Ballarat

by Darry Fraser

  Alfred hauled himself up onto his horse, and said to someone else she couldn’t see, ‘Get away from here. She has a contagion. My God, could be the plague.’ And he rode off at a gallop.

  Nell opened her eyes and there stood Finn Seymour, his arm in the sling, shock on his face. She pushed upright. ‘So. That’s my father. He rides off leaving his deathly ill daughter in the hands of a bushranger.’ She waved a hand in his direction. ‘I am quite fine except for an attack of the giddies. The heat and hunger, I think.’ She turned and scooped another handful of water. She lifted her foot and pointed at the rock. ‘There is gold bar number one.’

  He barked a laugh, relieved. ‘Plague I can’t do much about. Hunger I can fix if you can hold on for a little longer.’ He came closer, extended his hand. ‘Gold can wait a moment. There’s shade over by that wattle. May I help you there?’

  She glanced at the disappearing dust cloud behind her father’s horse. Taking Finn’s hand as he helped her stand, she walked light-headed alongside him to the yellow flowering wattle where he settled her in its shade. ‘All the bars are easy to find,’ she said. ‘The rocks are loose but hurry in case he really does get help.’ The sweat broke out on her brow again.

  ‘You doubt a father’s concern?’ Finn withdrew the sailcloth bag from his sling.

  ‘I doubt his, completely.’

  She watched as Finn knelt by the wall and picked at loose rocks until another four gold bars were found. He studied them as they lay lined up in the dirt, then he lifted them into the bag. Standing, he shrugged the drawstring over his shoulder and came back to the wattle for her.

  He held out his hand. ‘A one-armed man, an ailing woman, a bag of gold and a stroll in the summer heat. We’re not mad,’ he said. ‘Come on, we’ll go to my home.’

  A stroll it was, mostly in silence except for the obligatory chat about weather and health. They stopped once or twice as Nell tried to ward off the dizziness and when at Finn’s house, he directed her to a chair in the parlour. An open door and window allowed a faint breeze inside. After slipping out of the sling, he divested himself of the bag of gold bars, and knelt on the floor to load them into a camphor trunk.

  ‘You seem to be always rescuing me,’ she said. ‘I feel at odds with that, though I am grateful.’

  ‘It’s not gratitude I want. I care for you, Nell.’ He reached over and touched her hand. ‘I don’t want you to withdraw from what we started. There’s no need, if you want the same as I do.’ Unable to find words at that moment, she watched as he got to his feet. ‘Tea first,’ he said. ‘And I have boiled eggs ready to eat.’ He called over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen. ‘Until I go to the stores, it’s the only food in the house to keep me going. Bachelors don’t cook overly much.’

  Settling back in her chair, she closed her eyes a moment. Survival had propelled her off the fields; yet her own actions confused her. How could she survive on her own, and thrive as a woman? It would be nigh on impossible to have a decent life. Of course, she knew it must have happened for others, but she couldn’t think for a moment of anyone she knew who had such a life.

  Finn returned some long minutes later, with three shelled eggs on a plate, and a pannikin of tea. ‘Eat. Starvation is not uncommon on the fields.’ He set the tea on the table beside her.

  She nodded her thanks. ‘I didn’t mean to starve. I just forgot to take something to eat.’ Her heart raced, and her head hurt at the temples. ‘I should be eating in the kitchen, not in this room.’ It seemed to be getting smaller around her.

  ‘You are not a servant, Nell. And there are no society matrons to frown on us.’ He held the plate up to her. She took an egg, tore it in half and ate. ‘As for where you eat, that’s up to you. Treat this house as yours. Stay here.’ He paused. ‘With me.’

  Unsure exactly what that meant, she said, ‘You have to go to Melbourne for trade.’

  He lifted a shoulder. ‘You could stay here if you prefer, or come, as my wife. Whatever you choose.’

  Nell flushed. ‘We would not be married by the time you needed to leave.’

  ‘Ah, but we would marry as soon as we’re able,’ he said.

  Nell pushed the plate away only to have him push it back again. ‘We have not known each other long,’ she began, a shake in her throat.

  ‘Marry me. Or do you think I am some sort of ruffian who would not offer marriage after what has passed between us?’ He shook his head. ‘More importantly, I’m happy for it.’

  She snatched a breath. ‘I know nothing of you—’

  ‘Nell, you do.’ He looked perplexed.

  ‘—and you were intent on killing a man. You might even be such a man as him.’ At his stunned look, she cried, ‘I don’t know, I don’t know, my judgement is so impaired. I don’t know what to trust. I know I’m afraid and I tried not be.’ She heard her voice shrill and shake and run away with words that tumbled over one another. Her heartbeat was a thunder in her ears and she clapped her hands over them. She heard Flora’s words about him echo in her ears. He’s a good man …

  ‘Afraid? I have never seen fear in you.’ His voice was steely, eyes intent on hers.

  ‘I am afraid,’ she said, angry and hot. ‘The consequence of being married to that … thing, and I fear I can’t think straight, I fear that it’s always my fault, that somehow I despoil everything I touch because I must be so terrible a person, and not worthy—’ She stopped, hearing her own words, though not her words. Andrew’s words. She wondered in horror if she had truly finally gone mad after all.

  Finn reached for her hands, but she snatched them away. ‘Nell, you are not any of those things. You are brave, and you are strong.’ He waited a moment, as if measuring his words. ‘I am not such a man as Andrew Amberton, if he could be called a man,’ he said, his voice low, soft. ‘I never would be or could be. Yes, I’d intended to kill him because he was the murderer of my family.’ He looked at his hands and the slight shake there. ‘And just so you know, if ever you, or any member of my family to come, were being threatened, I would kill, and kill again to protect those I loved.’

  She stared at him, then at the mantel, at Louisa’s serene smile at her from the photograph.

  ‘I have an uncertain future thanks to my journey onto the continent. It might prevent me from earning an income later. I have no way of knowing.’ He looked up, his green eyes bloodshot. ‘I might be a difficult man at times. Stubborn. I might yell when I argue, I might not always confer when I should.’ He took a breath. ‘But I would never harm you. I would always protect you. I am not anything like the abomination that was Andrew Amberton.’

  The quiet, contained, measured words thrummed over her. Panic still hovered, and she struggled. And yet … And yet … She wanted this good man. She wanted the life he offered.

  Finn cleared his throat. ‘We have not known each other long, I agree. And we find today, now, that there is much about the other that we don’t know. But do you not feel the warmth between us, Nell? I do. Do you not feel something deep down inside that is real, and solid, and demands the chance to grow?’

  She tried speaking again, her voice was shaky still, and her mind clutched at deflection, at excuses. ‘I am penniless, besides.’

  ‘And what has that to do with it? In any case, you have a pocket full of nuggets.’ He pointed at them then reached over and tapped the plate. ‘Eat more.’

  She reached for another egg, took a bite, chewed and swallowed. ‘Those nuggets—Flora took them out of the tin box, gave them to me before you shifted it with Mr Worrell.’

  Finn seemed to think about that, then unbelievably, he shrugged. ‘I see.’ His eyes were still on her but there was no judgement, or accusation. Only what appeared to be mild amusement.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I have nothing to bring to you. I have come from a terrible marriage and I—’ She stopped to choose her words. ‘My father is a scoundrel bent on corruption in every situation he finds himself. I grew up with that. My husband
… I don’t know if I have the strength in my mind to begin again. I would question my every action, I would wonder about my every word.’ She clamped a hand over her mouth, then dropped it again. ‘I want it, I just don’t know if I can do it.’

  He said nothing for a few moments. ‘I believed you when you said you’d had to survive. You are a survivor. You said you had wounds and that they would heal. They will heal. You and I will not lead the life of your past, we will never revisit it. You need never be afraid of it. Or of me, or the consequences of anything you might do and say.’

  She sat listening, her hands clenching, releasing.

  Finn leaned forward. ‘My wife, Louisa … we were lucky we had a good marriage. A safe marriage. I was a good husband. She was a good wife.’ His look at her was candid. ‘But I need more. I want to be closer, I want the trust and the love of it. I want those things from you, with you, and I want more. Good things, wonderful things, laughter, love. Life. Passion just at the touch your hand when I see you at the end of my working day.’

  Nell bent her head as her heart squeezed. Her eyes met his again. ‘I’ve not known those things, in life, or in a marriage. Only despair. My mother despaired, I know. Perhaps even my father despaired, maybe that’s why he’s like he is. And I was afraid in my marriage, and I was afraid my mind was going, too. I fought despair.’

  ‘Ours won’t ever be that. I have light in me again because you’re in my life. God knows, we should grasp the chance to live it well.’ He bent over her hands and kissed them. ‘I already feel love. It’s at the start of its journey, I know. Nonetheless, it’s there for me …’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t have flowery words, Nell.’

  A hard thump of her pulse sent a fierce heat to her face. It was true, what he spoke of. She wanted the same. Her fear was great, but her hunger for it was greater. ‘You don’t need flowery words. You are right,’ she said. ‘Love has started its journey.’ Heat bloomed in her cheeks and burned, but the roof didn’t fall in, nor did the floor disappear underfoot. ‘Perhaps if we just let a good thing happen.’

  His chest expanded. He stared at her reddened hands, his fingers pressing hers tightly. ‘You need do no more work at the laundry tubs,’ he said quietly.

  Oh no! ‘But I’m used to work,’ she cried, and tightened her fingers under his. ‘I want to work, to earn my own money, never be at the mercy of someone else, and never beholden. I cannot risk being left destitute. It is not negotiable for me.’

  ‘Then choose some other work, Nell. I’m not against it, but if you didn’t take a job, ever, you would never be at my mercy,’ he said earnestly. ‘And I would protect you by law, as a husband, if something happened to me.’ He gave a deprecating laugh and let go of her hands. ‘I’m assuming you’ll marry me. And then if you do, you don’t need to do laundry.’

  She let a beat pass. ‘None?’ she asked, a brow raised.

  Finn stopped short. ‘Oh. Well, I already use a laundry service or two. I should continue to do so, and you should too. You need not do laundry.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘You said you might teach. Look at that for later perhaps, if you feel you want to. There’s bound to be a national school here sometime in the future.’ He let out a breath. ‘My sister and I learned to read and write from my mother. She would read to other children, scratch their letters in the dirt when there was no paper to be bought, no pen to be found.’

  ‘And my mother taught me.’ Nell thought of her mother, whose married life would not have been easy. Suddenly Nell wondered what her mother had been like as a person, an individual. Her thoughts quietened. She gave his hands a small squeeze and let go. ‘Teaching is not really for me and I would rather not return to laundry. Though little presents itself outside of service work, I will look for something else.’

  Finn’s gaze was intent on her. ‘You said your mother’s name was Cecilia. My mother’s name was Celeste. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it? Cecilia and Celeste. Names that sisters would have,’ he said.

  Children.

  Nell breathed deeply and felt the thump-thump of her heartbeat again and the rush of heat to her cheeks. This new feeling was unsettling. Her hands refused to stay still while she mulled it over. She reached over, split the next egg, ate half, then sipped from the tea cup he’d put on the table for her.

  He still leaned towards her. ‘You want to work, I heard you. What else do you want, Nell?’

  Those kind, green eyes were intelligent, intense. He offered her things she never thought would come to her, things that would make her heart sing like it had with him the night before, things that would take her breath away.

  ‘I want to take a chance, but I don’t want to fail.’ Words rushed out of her. ‘I don’t know what a happy life looks like, or what it’s meant to be, but I want it. I want to make a happy life, with you. I’ll make mistakes. I might be fearful, or too forthright. I’ll argue my point. I might not—’ She brushed her hands down her pinafore. He reached over, took her hands again and linked his fingers with hers. ‘You might have to have patience,’ she said.

  His grip was strong. ‘We will have to have patience for each other.’

  Her thoughts ran on. ‘It would be unconventional, it would be going against what most people do, if I work while I am married.’

  ‘What of it? The bushranger and his bride have been nothing but unconventional so far,’ he said. ‘I am not afraid of it and there are many here already who are unconventional. The diggers’ wives who work, for instance. I even know one or two who keep their own purse.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘I’ve been thinking. I should like it very much if you were working, by my side, in Seymour’s Implements and Merchandise.’

  It would be a good job. Respectable. ‘I know nothing of that sort of work.’ She would come to him with an open mind and an open heart, but she had to be sure of her future, of herself. ‘I will think on it.’

  ‘For wages,’ he said, and his eyebrows waggled.

  She laughed then. ‘You charm me, sir. Perhaps it would suit me well.’

  ‘Your sudden smile charms me, Nell, and there should be more of your laughter.’ He bent to her fingers and kissed them. ‘We will work on that.’

  Finn slipped out in the late afternoon. He brought home a cut of mutton, potatoes, some ham and fresh tomatoes he’d bought from a street vendor.

  They supped late on roasted meat and potatoes, and talked, laughed some more, sipped tea. Finn had a rum later; Nell declined. She tried to feel at home, instead felt herself a guest. But there was a more pressing situation than worrying about her status in his house.

  ‘I must purchase some new clothes, soon.’ She took a breath. ‘So if I could impose on your generosity for a short time.’

  ‘I am happy to exchange notes with Mrs Willey for you if—’

  ‘No, not there, thank you,’ she said quickly. Not the shop she’d practically been thrown out of as a thief. ‘But somewhere. I will, of course, repay you once the gold is changed.’ She nodded at the nuggets on the table that had been unloaded from her pinafore pocket. Suddenly mindful of how she’d acquired them, she tried to say something, but he was already talking.

  ‘Of course, if that’s how you prefer it,’ he said.

  ‘It is.’

  He studied her a moment. ‘My gold merchant is an honest man. I’ll exchange those for you before we decide on the trip to Melbourne.’

  She nodded, let it go for later. As long as the nuggets sat on his table, it would be easy to relinquish them back to him.

  The candles had burned low. The conversation faltered in the flickering light and Nell decided it was time to prepare for bed. ‘If you have water to spare, I should like to bathe after such a day. Would you direct me to a bowl and a pitcher of water?’

  He got to his feet and smiled. ‘I’ll heat some more water, and I can do better than a bowl and a pitcher. I’ll get the tub for you.’

  In the spare room, she stripped down. Deciding to rid herself of her underwear—there was no one to chide
her for it—she stepped naked into his man-sized bath tub. The water he’d provided was warm, and only deep enough for a good wash, but she sighed at the simple pleasure of being in clean water with a bar of soap. She washed quickly.

  He’d handed her a towel earlier, a swathe of soft cotton, and although loathe to step back into her worn clothes, she dried off and dressed. For one quiet moment, she let Finn’s proposal sweep over her. Her heart answered; her head remained quiet for once. She would take his offer, and not look back. Her chest swelled with an anticipation, but not a girlish one without care or caution—one with a calm, sensible attitude.

  What rubbish, Nell. When have you ever been calm and sensible?

  When she returned to the parlour, refreshed, though in her dirty clothes, she asked, ‘Where should I sleep?’

  He leapt off his seat and came to her, touched her cheek, slid his hand down her arm until it found her fingers. ‘I should like you to sleep with me, Nell, in my room, in my bed. Our bed.’ He produced a ring from his pocket. ‘It is a man’s ring, I’m afraid. A young man’s ring. It no longer fits me. But I hope it fits your wedding finger.’

  She gazed at it in his palm, a simple heavy ring in gold, a square signet engraved with FJS. Picking it up, it felt warm in her fingers, as if he’d been holding it while she bathed. ‘Are these your initials?’ she asked.

  ‘Finneas John Seymour.’ He slipped it on her left hand, the ring finger. ‘With this ring, I thee wed,’ he said quietly. His voice feathered over her.

  The cold slide of fear entered her heart. It can’t be anything like it was before—

  Her mother’s voice. Stop. This is not Andrew.

  There’d be no turning back once they married.

  It will work. Go forward, Nell. Don’t turn back. Make your promise to him. Make it in your heart. Her mother’s voice … The fear fell away as if it had never been. It will work. You will make it so.

  ‘With this ring.’ Still she faltered as she stared at his hand over hers. ‘I thee wed,’ she said and felt a shake of her hands. It was a vow. Not married in the eyes of God but married in her heart. She stared at the gold signet. A glint of candlelight caught the engraved initials. ‘It looks very handsome, though—’