by Bonnie Leon
The morning passed pleasantly enough. Hannah moved from bedroom to bedroom, her mind on John rather than her duties. What was he doing? Was he safe? When would he return? Time dragged. With the last of the bedrooms tidied and dusted, she made her way down the staircase and into the dining room.
Lydia stood at the heavy wooden table, silver laid out in front of her. She set a polished spoon in a row with several others. “Hannah, how grand to see you!” She hugged her friend. “How are ye?”
“I’m quite well. I love being Mrs. John Bradshaw.”
Lydia placed her hands on her generous hips, mischief in her green eyes. “I’ve thought about ye and wondered how everything was between ye two.”
“Splendid. I don’t remember ever feeling so contented as when I’m sleeping in my husband’s arms.” Remembering the sweetness of their union, Hannah moved to the window, pushed aside delicate silk curtains, and looked out onto the shaded veranda.
Lydia picked up another spoon.
Hannah turned back to her friend and asked, “How have you been? I noticed you and the young surgeon spent quite a bit of time together at the wedding. You two seemed to be enjoying each other’s company.”
“He’s quite handsome, isn’t he? And he’s kind.” Lydia clasped her hands in front of her, trapping the spoon between them. “He asked if he could call on me.”
“Really? Do you think he has serious intentions?”
“How can I know? I’ve only just met him.” Lydia smiled. “But I do hope so. He seems a fine gentleman.” She gave Hannah an inquisitive look. “And how ’bout ye and John? Was it heaven?”
“Surely such things should remain private between a husband and wife.”
“Yer not serious!” Lydia exclaimed. “Ye’d withhold that from me?”
Hannah giggled. “I suppose I can tell you. But you mustn’t breathe a word to anyone.”
“I’d never.”
Hannah sat at the table and rested her chin on her hand. “It was wonderful. John was tender and kind. Mrs. Atherton had said that sometimes intimacy between a husband and wife can be bliss—it was.” She closed her eyes for a moment and smiled, then looked at Lydia. “I love him so much.”
“And he had no idea that you weren’t . . .”
Hannah sat more upright, her spine stiff and her good mood fading. “No. He had no idea.”
“Will you tell him now that yer married?”
“Why? There’s no reason for him to know.” Hannah’s insides felt tight. She glanced about to make sure they were alone. She wasn’t sure she could share this even with Lydia, but she felt too great a burden and needed to say something. “I didn’t tell you everything . . . about the baby.”
Lydia sat across from Hannah. “What do you mean?”
Hannah set her hands on the table in front of her, one on top of the other. “When I knew I was in the family way, I was distraught—you remember. And what can a woman do with a child in prison? It’s even worse on board a convict ship. The child’s life would have been ghastly.” She met Lydia’s intense gaze. “And my honor could never be reclaimed.”
Once more Hannah glanced at the kitchen door to make sure she and Lydia were alone. “I prayed and asked . . . God to take the baby. I . . . I just couldn’t have it.”
Lydia gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears. “How could ye wish for such a thing? Children are a gift from God.”
“I know that now. Every time I think about it I want to scream. I committed a horrible sin. For a long time I thought it too much even for God to forgive. But he has forgiven me. Can you?”
Lydia didn’t answer right away. “Of course. I’m not without sin.” She shook her head slightly and then reached for Hannah’s hand and grasped it. “But ye must tell John. He should know.”
“I can’t. I can’t bear to see the loathing I know will be in his eyes.” Tears spilled onto Hannah’s cheeks. “Every time he looks at me, all I see is love. If I tell him, I’m certain I’ll not see love but hate instead. I simply can’t endure that.” She wiped at her tears. “Please pray for us. Pray that I can live with what I’ve done and that John will never know the truth.”
Lydia hesitated before answering. “I’ll pray for yer happiness, but I’ll also pray that one day ye’ll be free of yer fear and that John will know the truth and yer love will be stronger for it.” She looked Hannah straight in the eyes. “I hope ye’ll find the courage to speak to him. This is too dreadful a secret to keep from yer husband.”
Hannah understood that, but she also knew she couldn’t tell John, not ever.
3
Mrs. Atherton stepped onto the front veranda and waved at Hannah and John. “Could you wait a moment? I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She moved back indoors and a few moments later reappeared with a young woman in tow.
Moving slowly, Mrs. Atherton limped across the lawn toward John and Hannah. “I can barely get about today.” She shook her head. “Even in this heat my rheumatism is a bother.”
“Sorry it’s troubling you so.” John tipped his hat.
“I shall survive.”
“Are the remedies Dr. Gelson prescribed of no benefit?” Hannah asked.
“I’ve not seen any improvement yet.” Mrs. Atherton straightened slightly. “But I’m not here to talk about my maladies. I want you to meet the new housemaid.”
Hannah’s attention turned to the stunning stranger standing beside Mrs. Atherton. The woman smiled, but the gesture didn’t touch her muted green eyes.
“I’d like you to meet Deidre O’Neil,” Mrs. Atherton said. “She comes to us from Norfolk Island.”
Deidre brushed white-blonde hair off one cheek. “I’m thankful to be rid of that place.”
“Norfolk prison, you mean?” Hannah asked.
“Yes. I was there two years. It’s a dreadful place.”
“I’ve heard it’s appalling.”
“That it is.” Harshness flashed across Deidre’s face, but quickly vanished. She turned to Mrs. Atherton. “I’m thankful ye’ve allowed me to come to work for ye. Ye’ve rescued me from what I’m certain would have been a terrible end. I’ll do a fine job for ye.”
“I’ve no doubt of that. Grace Williams recommended you and I trust her judgment implicitly.” Mrs. Atherton turned toward Hannah. “Deidre, this is Hannah Bradshaw. She was our housekeeper until she married this fine gentleman, John Bradshaw.”
Deidre offered Hannah a cursory nod and then reached out to John and took his hand. “It’s a pleasure.” Her voice changed, reminding Hannah of bells in a soft breeze.
“John manages our machine shop and oversees quite a lot of the business for my husband.”
“Welcome,” John said. “I’m sure you’ll be happy here. The Athertons are fine people.”
“I can see that.”
Hannah bristled at Deidre’s notably sweet tone and overly friendly manner toward John. She didn’t like her.
“Sadly, John and Hannah won’t be living here much longer. They’re planning to move to a place of their own.”
John disengaged his hand. “Figured I’d have a go at my own farm.”
“Sounds like a grand idea.” Deidre’s eyes remained on John. “I hope ye do well.”
“God willing, we shall.” John smiled.
Hannah thought his smile a bit too broad.
“There’s a piece of land just north of here. I’m going to have a look at it this afternoon.”
“Once you’ve moved, William and I will miss having you here. But we’re delighted you’re making a new start. I’m confident this venture will be a success.” Mrs. Atherton glanced at the new housemaid. “Well, Deidre and I have some things to discuss, and I’ve promised to show her around. She’ll start working with Lydia right away.” She placed a hand on Deidre’s back, and the two moved past Hannah and John, strolling toward the garden.
Trepidation felt like a strap tightening around Hannah’s chest. Shaking loose the sensation, she looped an arm throu
gh John’s, and the two walked toward the barn. “I wish I could go with you.”
“And I’d value your presence, but Murphy Connor is the one who put me on to the property, and he’s an Irishman who believes women should stay at home.” He grasped Hannah’s hand. “If I think it’s the place for us, I’ll take you there tomorrow.”
“All right.”
John looked more closely at Hannah. “Is something troubling you?”
Hannah clasped John’s hand and stopped, facing him. “I know we’ve planned and dreamed of building a place of our own, but I must admit to feeling a bit frightened. I know the area and it’s quite isolated. Most anything could happen—snakebite, or a raid by the Aborigines. And there are escaped criminals about. I don’t know that I’ll feel at ease there on my own.”
“Hannah, I had no idea. But you need not worry. I’ll be there. I’d die before I let anyone harm you.” He caressed her upper arms. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. Very few of the farmers have had trouble.”
“I know. And I believe this is the right thing to do, but I still can’t help but be a bit anxious.” Sorry that she’d said anything to dampen John’s spirits, she assured him, “Don’t worry about me and my qualms. I’m positive I’ll feel fine once we’re settled.”
Gently, he kissed her forehead. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Leaving behind the morning light, John and Hannah stepped into the barn where the heavy smell of hay and manure greeted them. He led the way to a stall in the back. “It sounds like fine land. Connor said it borders the river and that it isn’t too far from the township. And he said there’s good grazing.”
Hannah rested a hand on the stall gate. “I can scarcely imagine what it will be like to live on a place of our own. Two months ago we were prisoners with no prospects at all.” She leaned against John, hugging him with one arm.
He gave her a squeeze. “God has been gracious.” He grabbed a halter from a hook on the wall, opened the stall, and stepped inside. “There you go, boy,” he said, moving to a chestnut gelding. John patted the animal’s neck and then slid the halter over his head, gently tucking its ears through the straps. He quickly saddled the horse and led it out of the barn.
As they emerged, Mrs. Atherton and Deidre walked across the lawn toward the back door of the main house. Hannah studied the new employee. Something about her left Hannah feeling unsettled. “What did you think of the new housemaid?”
John glanced at Mrs. Atherton and Deidre. “She seems pleasant enough.”
“She’s quite handsome.”
“That she is.” John looked at Hannah. “By your tone, I’d say you’re not pleased with that.”
“She’s comely enough, but that’s not what troubles me. There’s something about her . . . something not quite right.”
“Whatever could be wrong? I’m sure Mrs. Atherton wouldn’t bring someone into the house who’s not to be trusted.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Hannah watched until the women disappeared inside the house. Her disquiet remained.
“I’d better be off if I’m to get back before dark.” John kissed Hannah. “Look for me before dinner.”
She rested a hand on his arm. “Do be careful. There was another attack on a family a few days ago.”
“I know. I’ve got my pistol.” John patted the firearm he wore at his side. “I doubt the Aborigines are concerned with a lone rider. They’re more interested in keeping farmers from building on the land. I’m sure they see us as a blight.”
“What’s happening to them does seem a bit unfair.” Hannah gazed up the road. “But what’s to be done about it?”
“In time, I hope whites and blacks will live harmoniously. There’s land enough for us all.”
“No, there’s not really. The blacks don’t stay in one place. They wander. With more and more settlers taking up parcels of land, what will become of them?”
“I don’t know, but progress won’t be held back.”
“At any rate, be watchful. I shan’t rest until I know you’re home safely.”
“I’ll be careful.” Putting a foot in the stirrup, John pushed up into the saddle. “Have a good day, luv.” He turned the horse toward the road and started off.
John glanced back at Hannah as he moved up the drive. They’d been married scarcely two months, but already he couldn’t imagine life without her. How grand it will be to havea place of our own. We’ll have a fine house where we can builda life together and raise our children. He allowed his imagination to embrace thoughts of what life would be like—he and Hannah working together, establishing the farm and a family. As Hannah had said, there would be danger, but then most things in life held peril of some sort or other.
“John.”
John relinquished his musings and pulled his horse to a stop.
Mr. Atherton stepped out of the tool shop and walked down the drive toward him. “I’d hoped to catch you before you left.”
“Good day, sir. Is there something you need done before I go?”
“I’d just like a word is all.”
John climbed out of the saddle. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Fine. I wanted to speak with you about your plans.”
“Plans, sir?”
“Your idea of raising sheep.”
John knew Mr. Atherton had qualms about his making a change from machinist to farmer. “I’m sorry about leaving your employ, but I—”
Mr. Atherton lifted his hand, palm out. “No, no. That’s not a problem. Perry will work out fine. You’ve taught him well.” Using his thumb, he nudged up his hat. He seemed uneasy. “I well know the desires of a young man—hoping and dreaming of a place of his own. All men want that. And I’m not one to stifle dreams. I’ve had a few of my own.” He grinned. “But I feel I must voice a concern . . . Your choice of vocations seems a bit unusual. You’re a fine machinist and you’ve a good head for business. Trade or a production enterprise of some sort would seem more fitting.”
John knew Mr. Atherton spoke the truth. He’d had similar discussions with himself. “I know I’m taking a risk. But raising sheep and attending to my own property requires good business instincts. And as you’ve stated, I possess those. And there’ll always be a need for tools. I can craft my own rather than purchase them.”
John let his eyes roam over the Atherton farm. “I spent most of my life in the city, and for years I did as my father wished—working at his side and learning the tool business. And when he died, I took over the company. But I always wanted more—adventure and an opportunity to do something of my own choosing, something more challenging. I even considered moving to the Americas. It’s a place where a man can make a fine living as a farmer. I probably would have done it too, if not for my wife Margaret. London was the only place for her. She wouldn’t let go of it.”
He took a deep breath. Even now, the thought of her violation stabbed at him. “Of course my dreams and hers ended with her betrayal and her death.” The memory of prison, Margaret’s infidelity, and his cousin’s treachery raised old resentments. He studied a fly darting about a dung pile. “Things like that can steal a man’s spirit.” John’s anger drained from him and, like a breath of clean air, peace filled him. He looked into Mr. Atherton’s blue eyes. “As it turns out, New South Wales was my destiny.”
He removed his hat and shuffled the brim through his fingers. “This venture may not be a success. I’m a novice. What I know about country living is what I’ve learned since coming here.” John replaced his hat on his head. “I want to try.”
Mr. Atherton smiled and extended his hand. Grasping John’s, he said, “I wish you well, then. I heard the piece you’re looking at could become a fine farm. And there’s a large property that borders it.”
“Yes. I’m hoping to purchase it one day.”
“It may be just what God wants for you and Hannah.”
“I pray you’re right, sir.”
Mr. Atherton studied him a moment. “I think
it’s time you started calling me William. We’re friends now.”
“Thank you, sir, er . . . William.” John smiled. “It’ll take a bit of getting used to.”
Mr. Atherton grinned. “You best be on your way. Don’t want to keep ol’ Murphy Connor waiting. He’s not the most patient fellow.”
“Right you are.” John climbed into the saddle and, with a nod at William, headed for the road. Moving away from the Athertons’ and toward what he hoped would one day be his own home, John couldn’t quiet his jitters. He wanted this to be the right place for him and Hannah.
The road was empty, the forest quiet except for an occasional cry of a bird and the incessant buzz of flies. They tried to find their way into his eyes, his nose, and his ears. He swatted at them, but they were unrelenting. A lizard darted across the road and the gelding startled, then quieted under John’s firm hand.
He scanned the forests and fields, watching for Aborigines. He knew it was a futile endeavor. Aborigines could well be watching him but would remain invisible unless they chose to reveal themselves. His heart leaped when, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something dart behind a tree. It turned out to be a koala starting up a gum tree. The small animal climbed, reaching for a handful of eucalyptus leaves. Stuffing the morsels into his mouth, he chewed slowly and dispassionately watched the passing rider.
John chuckled. “That’s quite enough of worrying.”
A shrill “Coo-ee” echoed through the forest. Another answered the first, only it was farther away. John knew the cry—it was Aborigines. They used the call to communicate with one another. Watchful, he nudged his horse to a faster pace.
Although recent skirmishes had intensified John’s concerns, he couldn’t help but admire the indigenous people of New South Wales. In spite of severe and even ruthless challenges, they’d hung on to their way of life. They were daring and enterprising. They knew where to find food and water even in places where there seemed to be nothing. And they could walk endlessly without tiring. He remembered when he’d followed the tracker while hunting down his cousin Henry. The man’s skills were myriad and unflagging. Henry hadn’t had a chance of escape.
