‘And you do not think that would be wise of me, Miss Waring? But such conduct is usually considered good business practice.’
‘But this is not business, Mr Dilhorne,’ said Hester unwisely, immediately realising that her haste had left her exposed to his raillery once again.
‘Is it not? I was under the impression that it was. Correct me if I am mistaken. We even, I seem to remember, spoke of a written contract.’
‘You talked of a written contract, Mr Dilhorne,’ replied Hester, wondering why it was so easy for him to wrong-foot her in such a way that she had a wild desire to laugh—if a mouse ever laughed at a cat. ‘I believe that I spoke very little.’
‘Very wise, most commendable of you, Miss Waring. The less one says, the less one gives away.’
‘I apparently need to say nothing for you to shower me with fruit and wine and…’ Before her Mentor began to speak aloud for her, as it was threatening to do, and disgrace her entirely, she stopped and almost wailed at him, ‘Why do we have such ridiculous conversations, Mr Dilhorne?’
He considered her gravely. ‘If you would accept my gifts in the spirit in which they are made, Miss Waring, we could perhaps embark on a discussion of something more substantial and serious. The nature of the Trinity, perhaps?’
A passing matron was treated to the scandalous sight of Mr Tom Dilhorne assisting Miss Hester Waring who was reeling with uncontrollable laughter.
‘Oh, you are impossible!’ she finally achieved. ‘We must say no more. I will give you my answer on Tuesday and you must promise to be serious—otherwise I cannot answer for my conduct.’
Leaving her school after a busy day’s work on the following Tuesday, Hester found Tom waiting for her outside the back door. He was smartly dressed, as usual, and had his hat in his hand. He took from her the bag which she carried, full of her small possessions and walked along beside her. He was obviously determined to be serious on this important occasion and Hester was surprised to find that she regretted this a little.
‘Have you had a good day, Miss Waring?’ This came out so solemnly and was so unlike his usual mode of speech to her that Hester had to suppress a desire to giggle, similar to those other unsuitable occasions for mirth—such as when she was in church and the Vicar was at his most pompous.
‘Yes, indeed, Mr Dilhorne,’ she managed to say, ‘and you?’
‘Tolerable, Miss Waring, tolerable.’
Neither of them said anything further as they walked briskly along towards Mrs Cooke’s, drawing a few surprised stares on the way. What could the so-proper Miss Waring be doing in company with an Emancipist rogue such as Dilhorne?
Once they had reached Mrs Cooke’s front door and Hester was assailed by the parrot’s usual greeting, Tom removed his hat again and asked, ‘Have you done me the honour of coming to any decision about my proposition to you, Miss Waring?’
Hester found herself trembling. Now that the moment of truth was on her she was fearful that she would not be able to say what must be said.
She had thought and thought about Tom’s offer. In the end she had concluded that the only person she needed to please was herself. He was offering her so much in return for so little, and the only payment required of her was that she was to present herself to the world as Tom Dilhorne’s wife. All those who would be prepared to criticise her were so comfortably placed themselves that they could have no idea what the alternative was.
All this flashed through her mind as she looked up at him. He was so tall and she so small that he towered over her. For the first time the power of his presence was almost too much for her. He seemed to sense this—he was as sensitive as a cat—and stepped back a pace. Liberated a little by his action, Hester was able to give him her answer.
‘Indeed, Mr Dilhorne, I have. I shall be happy to accept your offer of marriage on the terms stated, and will marry you whenever you think fit.’
He bent from his great height and gravely lifted her hand to his lips, surprising not only Hester, but an old lady who was crossing the road. We are becoming the spectacle of Sydney, thought Hester with the ghost of another giggle.
‘Then, Miss Waring, I think it is my duty to tell you that now that you have given me your answer, and I am truly honoured by it, you should visit my home, as soon as possible—for it will be yours, too—so that you may make any changes you see fit.’
‘I shall be happy to do so, Mr Dilhorne, and to take tea with you, if I may. But I also think it proper that I should bring along a female companion, seeing that you have no lady in your establishment to entertain me.’
He bowed to her again. ‘Ah, Miss Waring, I can already see how necessary your presence will be in my future life. You will be sure to know the correct thing to do without thinking. Who do you propose shall accompany you?’
‘I thought that Mrs Wright might like to be my chaperon.’
‘But what would Lieutenant Wright say to that?’
‘Well, I’m bound to tell you that somehow Frank always agrees with what Lucy wants, and besides…’ she looked shyly up at him to see how far she could go in teasing him ‘…I think that Lucy would love to see what all Sydney calls your barbaric home, don’t you?’
‘You never cease to surprise me, Miss Waring.’ And that statement, he thought with amusement, was a true one. ‘When shall I expect you to call and at what hour?’
‘Next Friday, if it pleases you, and at four of the clock. By then we shall all have dined and a dish of tea would be welcome.’
‘I shall be ready for you both at that hour. It shall be my housekeeper’s swansong before my wife takes over.’
He bowed to her again and handed her bag back to her. She thought, amused in her turn, that only Mr Tom Dilhorne would have consented to have his proposal accepted in the street, and by doing so had saved her the embarrassment of having to invite him in, thus exposing them to Mrs Cooke’s curiosity. She wondered whether anything he did was ever unconsidered.
She took his final words in with her. ‘I am sure that you will not regret our bargain, Miss Waring.’
He left her with a spring in his step and with his hat on his head at a jaunty angle. Tom Dilhorne was pleased with life and with himself: Hester Waring was not quite sure how she felt.
Hester put on her best gown, which was not saying much, she thought ruefully, and went to call on Lucy Wright. Lucy received her warmly and reproached herself for the long time which had passed since Hester’s last disastrous visit.
She had behaved so peculiarly then that when Lucy had tried to invite her to their Christmas festivities Frank had, for once, put his foot down, and said that he would not have her, and Lucy, for once, had given way.
Welcoming Hester reminded Lucy that Sarah Kerr had recently suggested that Hester did not look as if she had enough to eat. Her dress was just as shabby as the one which she had worn before Christmas. Well, there was nothing Lucy could do about that, but she could arrange for Hester to enjoy some food.
She rang for tea, ordering bread and butter and some slices of plum cake.
‘What’s the Missis want nursery tea for, then?’ asked Lucy’s skivvy, only for Cook to sniff, ‘Oh, it’s for that poor, plain Miss Waring who doesn’t get enough grub since her pa died.’
Hester’s predicament was common gossip among the servants of Sydney even if their betters weren’t aware of it, and only Tom, for his own ends, had cared to do anything to help.
Hester tried to eat her tea without being overtly greedy. A difficult task. Her extra money was bringing her a little more food, but still not enough to satisfy her. She twisted her hands together: it was going to be harder than she thought to ask her improbable favour of Lucy. She said abruptly, ‘Lucy, there is something I have to ask you.’
‘You know that I’m always ready to do anything for you.’
Lucy liked to think of herself as generous to a fault, and always had what Frank called ‘her lame ducks’. He thought that Hester Waring was the lamest duck of all, a
s Hester well knew. What she was about to say would surprise Frank as much as anyone.
‘Lucy, I am going to be married to Tom Dilhorne, quite soon.’
Having thrown this grenade on to Lucy’s best carpet, Hester fell silent.
‘Married! To Tom Dilhorne? Oh, Hester, is this wise? Are you sure that you want to? Is there no one else? You surely know that he’s an ex-felon? Came here in chains, they say! Besides, you are a lady!’
‘No, there’s no one else,’ said Hester painfully. ‘Nor will there be. Ever. I quite liked Captain Parker, but you know that he’ll never offer for me. I’ve no money and I’m not even pretty. It’s obvious, in fact, that most people think me plain. I know the other officers think me a bit of a joke.’
She said this last in a stoic voice, but behind it was the bitter memory of Captain Jack Cameron and the nickname he had coined for her, ‘Fred Waring’s plain piece’.
‘Oh, no, Hester,’ cried warm-hearted Lucy. ‘You can’t believe that.’ But one look at Hester’s face told her that she did.
‘But…Tom Dilhorne, of all people. Why, I didn’t even know that you were acquainted with him.’
‘I met him through the school. He has been very kind to me. I thought that he didn’t want me to be a teacher because of Father, but it turned out that it was he who made sure that I was appointed.’
She stopped and decided to tell Lucy a little, a very little, of the truth.
‘Besides, I think that Tom wants a housekeeper as much as a wife, now that Mrs Jones is leaving.’
If Lucy thought that this was the saddest reason for getting married she had ever heard, she did not say so. She also decided not to deter Hester from marrying Tom, however unsuitable he might once have been as a husband for Miss Waring of Essendene and Lighthorne House. Looking at her, it was plain to Lucy that Hester’s future as a single person was little short of hopeless. But Tom Dilhorne! And why on earth did Tom Dilhorne want to marry Hester?
‘I really know very little about him,’ Lucy said, her voice full of doubt. ‘I have never spoken to him, of course, nor he to me.’
She remembered suddenly what Sarah Kerr had said to her once when she had criticised Sarah and Alan’s friendship with ‘that rogue Dilhorne’: that she and Alan would sooner lose all their other friends than break with Tom.
She brightened a little. ‘But I do know that Sarah and Alan Kerr think a great deal of him, and that must say something good about him.’
‘Yes,’ said Hester. She had no intention of discussing Tom or her marriage with Lucy. She merely wanted to move on to the favour.
‘Would you mind very much, Lucy, if I asked you to come to tea with me at Tom’s villa on Friday? He feels that I ought to see it before I marry him, and your presence would make everything proper. Would Frank mind?’ she asked, apparently ingenuously.
Goodness, I must be catching Tom Dilhorne’s deviousness! She knew perfectly well that such a question would ensure Lucy’s participation.
‘Mind!’ exclaimed Lucy energetically. ‘He’d better not mind! I shall only be helping my best friend visit her future husband. What’s wrong with that?’ She looked suddenly enthusiastic.
‘Besides, Hester, I’m dying to see inside his new villa. Rumour has it that it’s splendidly barbaric. I can’t wait to see it! By all means, I shall come, and we must go together in my carriage. I can’t have you walking all that way. Most improper, if I am to drive there, that you are left on foot.’
Friday duly came and Lucy, resplendent in a new gown of cream muslin made up from the latest pattern book to come from England, arrived at Mrs Cooke’s to collect Hester. She instructed her astonished coachman to drive on to Mr Dilhorne’s new villa.
‘Does the master know?’ he enquired impudently.
‘My husband’s permission is not needed for my actions,’ Lucy informed him loftily. ‘Drive on.’
Externally, Tom’s villa, out on the Point with a superb view of the harbour, was a classical mansion of beautiful proportions. Inside, however, everything was different. The vast entrance hall contained only two blue and white Chinese vases of immense size and a giant bronze urn mounted on a wooden base.
The urn was covered with intricate carving, and around it was twisted a realistic dragon, its tail disappearing into the base and its head raised to roar at visitors. The floor of polished stone had one covering, a large washed Chinese carpet in the most delicate colours.
The disdainful Mrs Jones—so soon to leave—who thought her employer mad to fill his home with treasures from the Far East, led them into a huge room where Tom was waiting for them. To the eyes of most Englishmen and women, accustomed to Georgian elegance, this room was, if anything, even more startling.
There were more Chinese carpets on the stone floor, more porcelain vases in every shade imaginable, more bronzes, as well as lacquer cabinets and a Japanese screen which ran the length of the room. A tiger prowled along it, one sardonic eye cocked at the spectators. It resembled, Hester thought, its owner, who was watching them, an enigmatic smile on his face. Before the screen stood a long table, whose top was made from one block of polished black wood.
Behind Tom was a giant hearth made from uncut stones, over which a Samurai sword hung. Beside the hearth stood a full suit of Japanese armour. Three or four chairs and several lacquered tables, one set with teacups without handles, and several delicate little cakes on even more exquisite porcelain plates, awaited his guests.
Lucy’s eyes were like saucers. Hester, who was determined to take everything which came her way without comment, sat down and at Tom’s request began to serve the tea and generally play hostess.
‘Well, Mrs Wright,’ said Tom, after the preliminaries were over, ‘would you care to see more of my home when we have taken tea?’
‘Oh, yes, please…it’s…unbelievable.’
Hester knew Tom well enough by now to know how he was reacting to this, although his face remained impassive. ‘So it is,’ he said. ‘And you, Miss Waring, what do you think?’
‘I think that it’s beautiful,’ she told him truthfully.
He looked at her sharply. ‘Yes, I believe you do. But you know that if you don’t like anything you have only to say, and I shall change it at once. Mind you remember that.’
Lucy listened to him in some surprise. She had not known what to expect of him, but looking at him as he lounged back in his intricately carved Japanese chair of state, and listening to the kind way in which he spoke to Hester, she thought that perhaps her friend could have made a worse choice.
But this house! Well, one thing you could say about it, it would be easy to clean.
The rest of it, when Tom showed them around, was the same. In the bedrooms there were beautiful silk hangings and great divans with long bolsters and giant cushions covered in wonderful fabrics. No dark fourposters for Tom Dilhorne. Tiny rice paper paintings of exquisite birds and flowers hung on otherwise empty walls. Outside the master bedroom two fat-stomached Chinese idols kept guard on either side of bronze doors. The impression of savage beauty was overwhelming.
After that, to find a modern kitchen and a severe study-cum-library with its shelves filled with books and papers was almost too much. Hester was acquiring a treasure house.
Tom watched the two girls in some amusement. His Hester had been correct in saying that curiosity would bring Lucy Wright here if all else failed, and he could imagine Frank and his fellow-officers being regaled with details of how an Emancipist lived.
He was also wryly aware that Lucy had succumbed to his personal attractions, although he had made no conscious effort to win her over. He would not have been surprised to learn that she had already decided that he was a fascinating man and that Sydney society was wrong to snub him.
What pleased him more than anything, though, was that by her expression and comments Hester was not going to turn his home into an imitation of an English country house. They lived in the Pacific, after all, and his home reflected that. So far
as he was concerned he never thought of England as home: it did not exist except as a place to be traded with, and these days his trade was more often with the ports and centres of the Far East. He took the world as his oyster and he had no regrets. New South Wales had rapidly brought him a fortune which he intended to make even greater than it already was.
It was also bringing him a wife who was a lady, one who because of her sad situation was happy to accept him, an ex-felon, a man whom in normal circumstances she would have refused to know. But, having risen above his dreadful start in life, he was now determined that the lady who was his wife would never regret her bargain.
And if love, and the softer emotions, played little part in the considerations which lay behind his choice of Hester, why, that was an advantage, too. For to love anyone was to give a hostage to fortune, and Tom Dilhorne had no intention of putting himself in the way of ever getting hurt again. His marriage was yet another of his business propositions and he had not deceived Hester when he had told her that.
Nor did he deceive himself over the fact that one of the reasons for it was to defy the conventions which governed Emancipist behaviour by demonstrating that, providing he was successful enough, an ex-felon could even marry a lady of such impeccable lineage as Hester Waring was, and to that extent poor, plain Hester was a trophy.
When, finally, he managed to make her his wife in the truest sense, as he fully intended to do, so that he might have a mother for his children, that, too, he told himself firmly, would merely be another business decision.
‘No, you must be funning, Lucy. For Tom Dilhorne to marry Hester Waring is of all things the most ridiculous. She brings him neither looks nor money…and for her to marry an Emancipist! Remember what her papa thought of them…and Tom Dilhorne in particular.’
Lucy Wright’s mama’s reaction was the normal one as the news ran around Sydney like wildfire, and the gentry who gathered in Hyde Park that week spoke of little else. Gossip was the fuel of Sydney’s small social world, and here was a morsel so prime that it eclipsed even the Governor’s latest vagary. This also involved Tom Dilhorne, whom Macquarie intended to make a magistrate as well as his crony, Dr Kerr.
Hester Waring's Marriage Page 9
