by Bonnie Leon
Mr. Atherton returned to the porch. “I think it best that you not stay. There’s quite a mess . . .”
“Perry’s blood,” Hannah stated flatly. “I know.”
“Let me send someone to clean it for you.”
“No. I can do it.” Remembering Perry’s surgery, a flush of pleasure went through Hannah. She’d been a competent assistant to Dr. Gelson. “I’m not afraid of a bit of blood,” she said. Mr. Atherton shrugged and stood aside for her. “You’re a stubborn one, Hannah Bradshaw.”
“I suppose I am, now and again.” She smiled and stepped inside. Her eyes went to the scorched floor and bloodstains, and the frightening experience rushed back at her. She suddenly felt light-headed and overly warm. She pressed a hand against the wall to steady herself.
“Hannah? You all right?”
“Yes. Fine. Just give me a moment.”
“You’re white as a ghost.”
After taking a breath in through her nose and slowly breathing out through her mouth, she felt steadier. “I’m fine.”
William Atherton moved to the bedroom door and glanced inside. “No one here.” He walked to the flight of stairs. “I’ll have a look in the loft.” He carried his tall frame with ease as he climbed the steps. He disappeared, and she heard his footfalls overhead. A few moments later, he stood at the top of the stairs and then headed back down. “It appears you’re quite alone.”
His last words echoed in Hannah’s mind. Alone. Yes, I’malone.
Mr. Atherton took the final step. “It would seem Perry put a scare into that mongrel. I daresay, he’ll not set foot on this property again.” He grinned, but his expression quickly turned sober. “I can understand how it might be difficult for you to be here. You don’t need to be brave, Hannah. And it would give Mrs. Atherton ease to know you’re safe with us.”
Hannah wished she could go with him. The thought of spending a night alone in the house sent a shiver through her, but John was more important than her fears. She must stay in case he returned.
“Thank you, but I want to be here when John gets home.” Hannah felt a flicker of shame. She’d still not told anyone, except Lydia, what had really happened.
“All right, then.” Mr. Atherton moved to the door.
A distressed moo came from the direction of the barn. “Oh, poor Patience. She must be miserable by now.”
“After I have a look around the property and check the barn, I’ll take care of her and leave the milk in the springhouse.” He tipped his hat. “After that, I’ll be on my way.”
“Thank you. I can’t find words to express my gratitude.”
Mr. Atherton stepped onto the porch.
Hannah stood in the doorway. “Mr. Atherton . . . it’s a comfort to know Perry’s being well taken care of.”
“I doubt Gwen will take her eyes off of him, at least until he’s back to himself.” Mr. Atherton grinned. “He’ll mend just fine.” He walked down the steps. “Good day.”
Hannah closed the door and turned to face the empty house and its lingering memories. The room felt cold. “I’d best get a fire going before I do anything else.”
Using the same poker the convict had used against Perry, she stirred the ashes, hoping to find hot coals. She didn’t relish the idea of starting a new fire with flint and straw. However, the fire was completely dead.
She took down the flint and set to work. It wasn’t long before smoke and finally a small flame flickered. She quickly added more straw and blew on it as she added slivers of wood and then small pieces of acacia. Hannah fed the fire with bits of kindling, and when it crackled with vigor, she added small pieces of wood and then logs. Soon it snapped and popped, putting off heat that would drive the chill from the house.
She heard Mr. Atherton’s carriage pull away and went to the window. As she watched it disappear from sight, isolation seemed to envelop the property and Hannah. Visions of a bloodied Perry and of the dreadful intruder trampled through her mind, and she pushed down rising fear.
“That’s enough,” she scolded herself. “I’ve other things to think about.”
She removed her cloak, hung it on the rack beside the door, and tied on an apron. Set on erasing all evidence of the intruder, she first picked up the broken shards of glass and disposed of the lantern and wiped away oil remnants. The blackened wood could be sanded clean. Next she took the plate and mug the intruder had used and set them in the sink. She’d wash them later. After wiping the table, she turned to the bloodstained floor. It would take soap and a good scrubbing.
Her thoughts went to Perry. He’d been brave. Even while undergoing surgery, he’d not cried out. And David Gelson had shown himself to be a competent surgeon. As it turned out, he was also kind and truly concerned about his patients, even Perry. He was a gift to the community of Parramatta and Hannah could find no fault in him. If only he could see Lydiafor who she is. Lord, open his eyes.
Dragging herself back to the present, Hannah rested her hands on her hips and studied the stain. “It won’t disappear on its own.” She moved to the door and stepped onto the porch. A brisk wind, carrying the pungent smell of eucalyptus, swirled up dirt and leaves. Hannah couldn’t keep from looking down the road. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Lord, pleasebring John home to me.
Jackson trotted out of the barn and bounded toward her. With a laugh, Hannah patted his back and scratched him behind the ears. “Oh, Jackson, it’s good to see you.”
He licked her face and wiggled from front to back, and finally assured she was well, he moved off, his nose to the ground.
A creak came from the direction of the barn, and Hannah’s heart quickened. Had Mr. Atherton checked thoroughly? What if the convict was hiding inside? Stop it. He’s gone.
Unable to eliminate her fear completely, Hannah went to her bedroom and opened a drawer in the armoire and took out a pistol and leather pouch with gunpowder. She pushed the gun inside her waistband and dropped the pouch into her apron pocket before heading for the front door.
Picking up two wooden buckets, she walked toward the river. Aside from the sporadic bursts of wind, the countryside seemed peaceful enough. It was quiet except for the occasional birdcall. Hannah usually enjoyed the serenity of the countryside, but today it was unsettling, and she found herself longing for the noise and bustle of London. She’d not thought of the city in a long while.
Her old life reached for her. She and her mother had lived simply, the two taking up little space in their small cottage. While working on gowns for the prosperous, they’d sip tea and chat. Sometimes in the evenings they would read stories or study the Scriptures. An ache for those days and for her mother swelled inside Hannah.
Oh Mum, I miss you so.
Caroline had been a woman of faith, always steadfast and living what she believed. Hannah needed her steadiness now. What would she do if left here alone? She couldn’t care for the farm on her own. She’d be forced to return to work as a domestic. Although the Athertons would kindly take her back, they had no need of another housemaid, and Hannah wasn’t about to accept their charity. They’d already done so much.
Most likely she’d have to leave Parramatta and seek employment in Sydney Town. It would be difficult finding work with so many prisoners available to fulfill the needs of residents. Icould end up living on the streets just as I did in London. The possibility hit Hannah with a sickening thud.
Tears burned her eyes. Wiping them away, she set down a bucket and looked up at dark, swirling clouds. They were indistinct and blurred, just like her life. Nothing was certain. Shivering, she picked up the bucket and hurried on her way. The sound of a rider carried up from the road, and fear shot through Hannah. What if it was the escaped convict? She dropped the buckets, grabbed the pistol out of her waistband, and crouched low to the ground. Blood pounded in her head.
With a bark, Jackson dashed down the drive and disappeared. “Jackson! Jackson, come back here!” The dog didn’t return.
You’re getting
upset over nothing. People travel the road allthe time. Most likely it’s a neighbor. Hands quaking, Hannah pulled the striker back halfway and added a small amount of gunpowder. Pushing the bag of powder into her apron pocket, she looked down the road, gripping the gun in both hands. What should she do if it was him? She’d never shot anyone before. Could she?
The horse’s footfalls came nearer. It sounded like more than one rider. Don’t let it be him, Lord. The gun shook in Hannah’s trembling hands. Trying to quiet her breathing, she waited.
And then a man came into view.
“John!” Still holding the pistol, she watched him ride closer and then turn up the drive. Quincy followed close behind him.
Doubts replaced Hannah’s initial joy. What would she say to him? What if he hadn’t forgiven her and was still angry? What if he’d returned simply to gather his things?
John’s expression was solemn.
Hannah stood, nerves prickling along her arms.
He rode toward Hannah and stopped a few paces in front of her. He didn’t say anything right away, then asked, “Why do you have the pistol?”
She looked at the gun in her hands. “Oh. I . . . I forgot.” She gently released the striker and dropped her arm. In those few moments, her mind carried her to a hurting place. Why hadn’t he asked after her welfare? He’d not even said hello, had given no explanation or apology. And if he hadn’t left her alone . . . Resentment replaced Hannah’s relief. She squared her jaw. “A woman alone has need of caution.”
John didn’t reply, but Hannah could see that her tone had offended him. She didn’t care. He’d been gone three days with no thought of her. “I’m on my way to get water.” Without saying more, she tucked the pistol into her waistband, picked up the buckets, and walked toward the river. She barely glanced at Quincy.
Silence swelled behind her. She knew John and Quincy were watching. She heard the horses move away, but she kept walking, fighting tears every step.
With both buckets nearly full and water sloshing over the sides, she made her way toward the house. There was no sign of the men. No doubt they’re in the barn. She stepped onto the porch and set one bucket down. Grabbing a bristle brush and soap from a shelf, she dropped them in the bucket, picked it up, and walked inside. I won’t say a word, she vowed, pouring water for dishes into a four-legged pot in the hearth. Next she went to work cleaning the stained floor.
When John walked in, Hannah was on her hands and knees scrubbing the planked flooring. He set his musket in its place over the mantel and then removed his coat and hat.
Hannah didn’t look at him. She pressed down harder with the brush and scoured ferociously. Her shoulders ached. The soapy water in the bucket was tinged red, and the floor had a pink cast.
“What sort of spill is that?”
“It’s Perry’s blood.” Hannah kept working.
“His blood? What happened? Is he all right?”
Hannah stopped and sat back on her heels. She fixed John with an angry stare. “He’ll live. But he’s suffered dearly.”
“Why was he bleeding in our house?”
There’d already been so much thought and so much talk about what had happened that Hannah would have preferred saying nothing more, but there was no way around it. “I was in need of a friend yesterday, so I went to see Lydia. She invited me to stay for dinner, which I did gladly. When it was time to return home, it was late, so Perry accompanied me.”
The fear was fresh, forcing Hannah to stop. She let her wet hands rest in her lap. “It was dreadful. An escaped prisoner was in our house. I think he may have watched me go and knew I was alone.” Hannah was angry and wanted to hurt John, to make him sorry that he’d left her.
His face ashen, he stared at her. “Are you all right?”
Hannah nodded.
“What did he want?”
“It seems he was looking for food. At least that’s all he demanded.” Hannah’s mind carried her back to the darkness in the house when she and Perry had arrived. She could feel the terror.
“When Perry stopped the buggy in front of the house, a light suddenly went out. Poor Perry went ahead of me to have a look. The moment he stepped through the door, the intruder struck him with the fire poker. Perry was rendered unconscious.”
“Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”
Offense burned through Hannah like a fire out of control. “Is that all you can think about? Did he touch me? Do you think I enticed him?”
John winced. “Of course not. It’s just that I can’t abide the thought of you being injured in any way.”
“I wasn’t hurt,” Hannah stated flatly, her conscience pricking her. She was purposely being unkind. “The man wanted food. I fed him.
“When Perry came to, he thought I was in jeopardy and tried to wrest the musket from the man. He was quite brave, but during the skirmish he was shot.”
Pale and clearly shaken, John sat in a chair. “I’m sorry. I should have been here.”
“Yes. You should have been.”
Silence pervaded the room. And with it, Hannah’s outrage slipped away. She could see John’s anguish. She was adding to his burden. “It is I who am sorry. You had a right to be angry with me.”
John’s amber eyes looked tortured. “Angry, yes. But I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
Hannah wiped her hands on her apron and moved to her husband. She knelt in front of him. “I don’t blame you.” She rested a hand over his. “Can you forgive me?”
“It is I who must ask your forgiveness. I behaved outrageously. I was thinking only of myself.” He shook his head. “To have accused you as I did. Even the thought of it shames me.”
Hannah gazed into his eyes. “There have been times that even I wondered if I shared fault in the attack. I’ve tried to remember the days before and have asked myself if I did anything to provoke Mr. Walker’s advances.” She wiped at a stray tear.
John cupped Hannah’s cheek in his hand. “Of course you didn’t. You could never do such a thing. I know that. I knew it three days ago. But selfishness took hold of my mind. All I could think of was my pride. I’m truly sorry.”
Hannah rested her cheek against his hand and kissed his palm. “I should have told you. Mrs. Atherton and Lydia both advised me to do so. But I was afraid. Afraid that you’d hate me and that I’d lose you.” She looked up at him. “I’ve thought and thought and I know I didn’t tempt Mr. Walker. In all my considering I can’t find even one instance.”
“I know, luv.” John’s expression was tender. “I feel deep disgrace and regret at having added to your agony.”
Hannah offered a smile of encouragement. “I forgive you.” She steeled herself, knowing they must still discuss the child’s death. She straightened her spine but kept hold of his hand. “And what of the baby?”
“I’ve not forgotten what life was like on that ship. The idea of birthing a child on board is more than any person could bear. I understand your desire to spare an infant the torture of such an existence.” His eyes shimmered with tears. “Instead of facing the atrociousness of a prison, it went straight to heaven.”
“True, but she should have known the warmth and love of her mother. Instead she tasted an early death. My heart was not noble.” Hannah took in a quick breath. “I could think only of myself. I wanted her to die because the disgrace of being a convict was already heavy upon me, and I couldn’t abide the shame.”
Hannah felt the dishonor as if it had just occurred. “I didn’t trust God to care for me and the baby. I was faithless. I am faithless even still.”
“You’re not.” John stood and pulled Hannah to her feet. “All the agony you’ve carried.” He drew her to him. “I should be comforting you, and instead I’ve added to your hurt.”
Hannah could scarcely believe John’s change of heart. To be loved so was beyond comprehension. She wrapped her arms about his waist and held him tightly.
For a long while John and Hannah stood like that, finding comfort i
n each other. Finally, he stepped back and smiled down at her. “I missed you. Every moment I was away, I wanted to return.”
“Then why were you gone so long?”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “I was furious the night you told me—self-righteous and pompous.” He shook his head. “I spent the night along the river. The morning offered me no wisdom, so I rode to Sydney Town.” He glanced at the ceiling and took a slow breath. “I went to a pub and started downing tankards of rum. Even before my mind cleared the next day, I knew I’d been wrong. But before I could come back to you, I needed God’s wisdom.
“I walked the streets and along the bay. In the quiet, God helped me see my selfishness and reminded me of your righteousness.”
“My righteousness?”
“We’ve talked about it. God has forgiven you, and it’s as if you have no sin.” He looked down at his hands. “For a time, I forgot that.”
Hannah didn’t know how to respond.
John kissed her. “Every day I thank the Lord for you. And I thank him even more now because he protected you while I was gone. The man . . . what became of him?”
“I don’t know. He shot Perry, took my horse, and fled. I imagine he’s far from here.”
“I’ll report the episode to the constable.”
“Mr. Atherton already has. He and some of his men have searched for the convict, but he’s not been found.”
“And Perry? How is he?”
“Gwen is caring for him. After the shooting, I took him to Dr. Gelson’s office. He saved Perry’s life. He’s a fine surgeon.” “Thank the Lord for that.”
Hannah smiled. “You would have been proud of Perry. He was quite brave. He nearly wrestled the musket away from that man. If not for its discharging, I’m sure Perry would have overpowered him.”
“Perry has always been spirited. I owe him dearly. If not for him . . .” His words faded and he looked intensely at Hannah. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.” He gripped her upper arms. “I’ll never leave you like that again. And after this, when we quarrel, we’ll find a better way to work it out, eh?”
Hannah nodded, but inside her stomach was still in knots. She wanted to remain in the quiet pool of love, but there was more to be discussed.
