by Darry Fraser
Lewis’s eyes were red-rimmed. ‘He deserved it. For your sister, for Susie’s loss, I am truly sorry.’ Breath shot out of him. ‘I could not stop him then.’
Still staring hard at Lewis, Finn shook his arm out of Nell’s light touch. ‘And he was the perpetrator of grave harm to Nell, who is now my wife. You, sir, did nothing.’
Alarmed, Nell murmured, ‘Finn.’
Lewis began, ‘I must—’
Finn launched at him. Hands bunched in Lewis’s coat, he shoved him hard against the long timber bench. Grappling, they bounced to the floor, knocking a box of axe heads that spilled along the polished boards. ‘And then you went to the laundry and burned my wife’s possessions,’ Finn blasted, as he snatched Lewis off the floor, jerking him upright on his backside.
‘Stop!’ Nell shouted. Paralysed, she could only stare at what was unfolding in front of her.
Trying to steady, Lewis grabbed Finn’s wrists. ‘It was but a moment’s madness at the laundry, and I regret—’
‘You would have planned to go there and do harm.’ Close to Lewis’s fearless gaze, Finn snarled, ‘You have the same affliction as your madman uncle.’
Lewis’s breathing was rapid, but his voice was low and controlled. ‘No, I don’t. He was a coward, insane, but I am not a—’
Finn knocked Lewis hard against the bench. ‘And you did nothing,’ he repeated. ‘Nothing. You dare bring that evil to my family once again.’
Lewis’s glare snapped up. ‘I’m delivering your freedom of it.’
Finn ignored him, shoved Lewis down again. ‘I should kill you here and now,’ he raged, nothing louder than a hoarse whisper.
Nell heard it. ‘No, Finn,’ she burst out. ‘No more violence for us.’ Her voice snagged in her throat. But she knew Finn. Her Finn.
He dropped Lewis to the floor as if burned. He clutched his now shaking arm by the elbow and glared at the man at his feet.
Lewis glanced up at Finn’s arm. He looked to have had a sudden recollection. ‘But you … are not a murderer, Mr Seymour.’ Words, shaky but clear. After a glance at Nell, he pushed off the bench, got to his feet and waved an arm to have Finn step back. ‘It’s true. For Nell I was very nearly too late.’ His voice broke. ‘But I did not do nothing.’ Pointing at Finn’s arm, he said, ‘You recall at the hold-up that he was stopped, and not by your bushranger.’ He stood his ground, his face pinched. ‘It could be said that it was done in your defence.’
Finn still gripped his elbow, but the shakes had diminished. ‘You shot him?’
Aghast, Nell stared at Lewis. There’d been no clues, nothing to give away what he’d done. Killing Andrew had saved her life. Lewis could have killed her for his inheritance at the same time. Why hadn’t he? Her legs wobbled. What he’d done at the campsite, after the ball … had he finally snapped?
Her knees threatened to give way. ‘Lewis,’ she said on a breath, shocked. Reaching for the counter top, she steadied herself, suddenly light-headed. Lewis was still trying to settle his rumpled clothes and catch his breath. He glanced at Nell and shook his head, as if neither of them should say more.
Finn saw it, looked from Lewis to Nell. ‘Nell, did you know—?’
‘No. Sweet Christ, I didn’t know,’ she swore, barely a whisper, meeting Finn’s worried eyes. It gnawed at her. ‘I wished I’d been capable of saving myself. Saving myself from what I allowed to happen—’
‘You didn’t allow anything. You didn’t allow it,’ Finn seethed. ‘The blame for it lies with Amberton, with all of them. Not you.’ He held out his hand for her.
She took it, squeezed it, and looked at Lewis. ‘And Enid? Does she know?’
Bright spots of colour appeared on his pale cheeks. ‘Much as my mother is not a saint—God knows she could have tried something to stop her brother—I would not cause more harm by telling her. Let it be, for all of us, that Andrew Amberton was killed by a bushranger.’ His mouth grim, he gave a rigid but slight bow to Finn. ‘Nell had no knowledge of my intention, I can assure you.’ Coldly polite into their dazed silence, he said, ‘And now, I trust we need never speak of this again. Good day.’ He turned on his heels and his boots marked a steady beat out of the shop.
A moment passed before Finn roused himself to follow and slam shut the door to the store. ‘And I trust we need never set eyes on him again.’ He flipped the sign to closed. He turned back to Nell, his eyes bleak. ‘I wondered, before, if you were protecting Lewis.’
‘I would never have come to you if I’d known there was murder on my hands,’ she cried fiercely. She swiped hair from her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Angry tears filled her eyes. ‘Andrew’s poison still infects everyone he ever barged into. It takes a person’s reason. Their trust in themselves. Others mistrust you for what’s happening to you, believing you’re deserving of it.’ She stared at him. ‘It belittles everything I am.’
‘You are not belittled, you are fine and strong. It was all Amberton, only him, and he is gone.’ His voice softened. ‘And I trust you. I only thought for a moment that perhaps you didn’t trust me.’
‘No, no, no, Finn.’ Nell let her breath go, depleted, and reached behind to lean on the bench. ‘What Andrew did to Susan, to me … is it always going to be with me, still working in my mind long after he’s dead? Leaching me?’ She felt sick, nausea threatened to choke her.
‘No.’ Finn strode to her, took her by the shoulders. ‘He is gone, and you—we will drive out what is left behind. We have begun already.’ He bent to catch her eye. Both hands went to her face and his thumbs brushed aside the tears on her cheeks. ‘We have hope, Nell. We don’t need tears.’
She rested her forehead on his. ‘And Lewis? No one should have to pay for taking Andrew from this world.’
Finn gathered her close, arms around her in a strong embrace. ‘Even if I wanted to go to the police, it cannot be proven that he killed his uncle. My love, Lewis knew his information was for our ears, and our benefit, only.’
Forty-Two
Ballarat, March 1855
Nell’s nausea had not stopped. Since Lewis’s visit to the store that day, she had been sick every morning, and sometimes into the afternoon.
‘Finn,’ she said and rested her damp forehead against the doorjamb, weary of the queasiness. ‘I have some news.’
He smiled as he looked up from the desk in the store. ‘Let’s hear it.’ Then he frowned a little and stood. ‘Still feeling ill?’ He went to her and rubbed her arm.
‘I am sure that will pass. Or I hope so, as the baby grows in me.’ She wiped her mouth, pulled up her apron to dab the sweat from her neck.
‘A—’ Then his face broke into a grin. ‘Nell. Really?’ He took her in his arms and rocked her. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful, Nell. For us.’ He rocked her again.
‘Don’t. I’ll be sick.’
He held her at arm’s length. ‘Here, come and sit down. Can I get you anything?’ He angled her into the chair on the other side of his desk.
She swallowed uneasily. ‘Strangely, I want a piece of Mr Chadlow’s licorice and a pickled onion.’
Finn blurted a laugh. ‘How about a sip of water, and then I’ll see what I can do about the other.’
She nodded, dabbing some more at her neck.
‘How long before—?’
‘Perhaps seven months.’
He kissed her forehead. ‘Then we will make haste and make us a proper family.’
Late March, Nell and Finn travelled to Melbourne. It was their last buying trip for the store before winter. There they married, and mid April, amid bouts of morning sickness and the consumption of many pieces of licorice and many pickled onions, they made their way back to Ballarat.
Ben lent a hand to unload the morning after their return. Boxes of tools and other merchandise were all situated in place in the store. He greeted her as she came in from the back door. ‘Morning, missus,’ he said, a grin on his face as he bent to lift a box of mallets off the floor.
‘Morning, B
en.’ Nell wiped a damp rag around her neck and over her face. She’d just heaved up beyond the doorstep.
‘Heard the news? All thirteen miners, those what got arrested after the battle, got off, the case got laughed out of court.’ The box of mallets landed on the bench with a thud.
‘Yes, it’s a grand thing that they were not charged. A good day for them. For us. I didn’t know you were so concerned about all of that.’
‘Me either, till I heard the news. Gave me shivers up and down me arms. But the poor newspaper man, Mr Seekamp is still in prison. Got six months for seditious libel—means incitin’ against the government.’
‘Yes, Ben.’
‘But folk reckon they’ll get him out sooner. So, Peter Lalor won his day when he spoke up for poor man’s rights. He’s still hidin’ out somewhere but they’re talkin’ amnesty for him. Mind you, lost ’is arm in the process. Better’n his life, though.’ He bowed his head a moment. ‘And some bloody trooper still has the flag somewhere—pardon my language, missus—but it’ll come back, take its rightful place.’ Ben was beaming at her now.
‘Then I expect we’ll see some changes hereabouts,’ she said. ‘And call me Nell. Missus is so old-fashioned.’
‘Aw, ’twould have to be missus, in company, though.’
‘All right,’ she conceded and headed back towards the tea room for a sip of water. ‘Where is Finn?’ she asked, over her shoulder.
‘Up the first floor,’ Ben answered, and slid a crate of ropes across her path just as she exited.
Stepping around it, she headed for the stairs. The first floor? Indeed, the rope barring entrance to the stairs was lying at the foot of the steps. Gripping the rail, Nell headed up, aware that long disused floorboards creaked underfoot.
The heat rose as she climbed. ‘I hope you’ve opened windows up here,’ she called.
At the top of the stairs she bobbed into open space. It was just an open floor, no internal walls, jutting out over the shop. There were windows on the far wall that overlooked the back of the building.
Finn sat on an old bed, his hands clasped on his knees. ‘Some of Ma’s clothes are still here,’ he said and pointed to a small dresser, a drawer opened, and a lady’s nightgown still neatly folded in it. ‘Her hairbrush, too.’
Nell saw the brush. It sat in a porcelain dish with an assortment of combs and pins. Three little bottles, all different colours, lined up against the grainy mirror. A small round box, covered in fabric, sat with them. Her throat constricted. Her own mother’s things, like hers, had long gone. She could see the lines of dust on the dresser from where Finn had moved the items.
He didn’t look at her. Instead, he gazed up at the open windows. ‘I didn’t tell you that this was left exactly as it was the day I left for Melbourne to go to England. As if Pa just came up here afterwards and waited until he died. When I first returned I couldn’t face it.’
‘I can understand that.’ She glanced around. ‘But if your parents lived here, where was Susan?’
Finn pointed behind to a place in the shadows, over what would have been the back of the shop, their tea room. In the dim light, Nell could see a heavy curtain. ‘Just a bed, and a dresser for her after Louisa had passed away,’ he said. ‘Before that, when I was on the diggings, Louisa stayed at the house because she couldn’t abide the noise and the dirt of the camp. Susan stayed there with her, good company for each other. Then Louisa became ill. I came back into the township to look after her and Susan moved in here. When Louisa died, I left. And Susan got married.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t see that Pa was failing after Ma died. I didn’t. I just couldn’t stay one more day after Louisa had gone. Couldn’t be in the town, in the colony, couldn’t be in the country one more day. I left. I just left him with his grief, left my sister with hers.’ He flicked a glance towards the ceiling. ‘Too wrapped up in my own grief to see anything clearly. No wonder Susie flung herself into that marriage. Perhaps she thought she’d escape the grief of the whole family. She couldn’t have known what a terrible decision that would be.’
Nell stood at the end of the bed. ‘They would not have blamed you for leaving,’ she said softly. ‘They would have understood.’
‘They needed me, and I didn’t see it. And I tried my damnedest to shift the guilt of being away. Susan had passed away only days before I got back. I didn’t care if I lived or died by that time, so I tried to take vengeance on Amberton. Thought maybe we’d kill each other. That didn’t happen, thanks to his nephew.’
‘Isn’t self-pity, is it, Finn Seymour?’
‘Sounds like self-pity.’ He studied his steady hands. ‘It was frustration, for the loss of lives I couldn’t save, for all the grief. Had I not run, I might have stopped Susan.’
‘And you might not have.’
He nodded. ‘Perhaps that’s true, too. But I wouldn’t have gone away, wouldn’t have returned with the relics of war haunting me.’ He held up his left hand. It was steady. ‘I could have done so much more,’ he said. ‘I could still do so much more.’
‘Then we should revisit your idea of the Murray River paddle-steamers,’ she said. ‘We could visit that port in South Australia. You said that Mr Worrell would have liked to—’
‘No.’ Finn shook his head. ‘That’s past. You and I have another dream now, and nothing will jeopardise this,’ he said, reaching over to smooth a hand over her belly. She put a hand on his. ‘Matthew said something that made sense to me when I visited him in Bendigo months ago. He said that the man who supplies the diggers easily wins the gold. I like that idea. Perhaps we’ll invest in Steele and Sons and help Ben supply a road service from here to Bendigo. And when that’s done, maybe we could move there.’ He slapped his thighs. ‘That’s what my father would have done. He’d have made the adventure where he was, not gone off half-cocked looking for it. I think it’s a good idea.’
‘It’s a good, safe idea, Finn. Is that what you want?’
‘Yes, a safe one. For our family.’ He looked at his hand again, and rubbed his elbow. ‘This thing can’t be trusted around machinery or engines, anything given to sudden loud noises. I’ll make a good living here. We’ll make a good living here,’ he corrected. When he looked at her his smile was wide, and there was light in his eyes.
Satisfied he wasn’t mired in some dark oppression of the mind, Nell smiled in return then held her breath, fearing another upsurge of bile. ‘I must go downstairs again and try to find a cool spot. I don’t think I could live up here in this lingering heat, right now.’
‘We have our house. And I wouldn’t live up here, Nell,’ he said and stood up to take her hand. ‘I’ll clear it out, and it can be used for storage, or for a man’s quarters, if we hire.’
‘Are you sure you want to do that?’
‘As sure as I am of anything. It’s time to make this new life work.’
‘I have an honourable woman in my hands, Mrs Seymour,’ Finn said in their bed that night. His hand traced her hip, his finger warm and gliding.
Nell was admiring the signet ring on her finger. ‘A queasy Mrs Seymour. I hope that part is soon gone,’ she said, trying to jiggle the ring. ‘There’s no need to tighten this with twine anymore, it seems.’
‘An honourable, plump woman in my hands. My life is happy.’ He cupped a full breast and kissed her cheek.
‘It won’t be so happy if this daily sickness continues.’
He rose up on an elbow. ‘I’ve heard it said that if a wife is sick early when she’s in the family way, it means a baby girl is coming.’
Nell quirked a brow. ‘And where would you hear that said, Finn Seymour, in the pub tent and all the men talking about it?’ She wriggled to get comfortable and thought a moment, back to a darker time in her life. ‘Let it be a girl first,’ she said. ‘I feel it is a girl, an October girl.’
‘I would welcome either girl or boy as long as you’re both in good health. Dangerous things, babies.’ With his free hand, he brushed aside the blonde tresses
at her neck and leaned over to kiss her there. ‘If it’s a girl, she will be brave like you, and a stout defender of her rights.’
‘We will see that she is. From her very first steps.’
He rested on his forearm. ‘I will write to Joseph tomorrow, have a paper drawn up to protect you and our children should I not be around to provide.’
Nell reached up, her fingers touching his day’s scratchy, stubbly beard. ‘Nothing will happen to you.’
‘Who knows what this blasted shaking business will bring me? It may yet get worse.’
‘Then we’ll take necessary steps, as you say, and have a care for the future.’ She smoothed her hand over his cheek. ‘We have the store and the mining license, and if needs be, we can stake a claim again, dig for gold. We will teach our children to look after themselves.’
‘We will,’ he mused. ‘And there’s talk of a new license system that will benefit us all. It never touched me much before, but I see the worth of Lalor’s politics now, the meaning of the whole business at Eureka. Rights have been hard fought, and he will get up the vote for the working man.’
Nell’s eyes widened. ‘A vote for the working man, is it? I wonder if Mr Lalor’s fiancée would like a vote for the working woman, like I would. It’s all around us here, women working alongside menfolk, earning their own purse, yet we have no vote, no say of our own.’
‘A force to be reckoned with.’
‘Hah! We must stand up for ourselves, band together as much as we can. At least here, on the diggings, we can do that.’
‘The diggings are different. Things are not done in the conventional way. It’s not like that everywhere. I think it will be a long-fought battle.’
Her energy ran out. She sighed and turned on her side, facing him. ‘What about living in Bendigo? You once said you’d like to go there. I would too,’ she said, and blinked away the sleepiness descending.
