by Bonnie Leon
John watched Hannah walk away. She deserved none of this. She already had so much to bear. Lord, why would youallow such a thing? Gelson’s buggy moved toward the road and Deidre’s laughter carried across the grounds.
John clenched his jaw, his ire deepening. Hannah had been right about Deidre. I’ll do as she asked, but that will be the endof it, John told himself. But he knew differently. This was only the beginning.
13
Hannah peered out the carriage window, excited about a day in Sydney Town with her friends. The coach shuddered as it dropped into a hole, and then jolted forward as it found its way out. She could smell the distinctive aroma that came only from the ocean—salt and sea life. Rather than rekindling ugly memories, it revived her. Once she’d thought the months aboard a prison ship had ruined her love of the sea and that she’d never tolerate the pungent ocean aroma. Thankfully, she’d been wrong.
Gazing at the aqua bay, she smiled. How good to be here. It had been too long. With the roads in such dreadful condition, she rarely visited. But today was to be a treat, a special time just for the ladies—her, Lydia, and Gwen.
“I daresay, Sydney Town’s becoming a proper city,” Lydia said, leaning over Hannah for a better look. “It’s quite grown up.”
“I love it here!” Gwen sat across from Hannah and Lydia and gazed out the window beside her. “It was good of the Athertons to let us use the carriage. It’s much more comfortable than a wagon.” She leaned an elbow on the window ledge. “It would be grand to have our lunch at a café. When I lived in London, I’d sometimes see the well-to-do in a fancy café. They’d be sitting at tables with linen tablecloths and flowers in the center, drinking from elegant goblets. I always thought one day I’d like to do that.”
“I doubt Sydney Town has anything so grand as that, but I’m sure we can find one with good food.” Hannah smiled at her two comrades. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s been far too long since I’ve had such an outing.”
“We thought it time you got away from that farm of yours and had a bit of merriment.” Lydia grinned. “And I agree that lunch together would be fun.”
Her eyes wide with anticipation, Gwen adjusted her bonnet. “I’ve so much to do. I’m not sure just what should come first.” She pulled her cloak more tightly about her shoulders. “It’s a shame the weather’s turned cold. This would be so much more pleasant if it were warm.”
“It is chilly.” Hannah rested gloved hands on a coverlet draped over her knees. “I’m glad I thought to bring my lap blanket.”
“I daresay, it’s utterly cold, but then August can be that way.” Lydia glanced at heavy clouds. “Perhaps there’ll be a rain shower or two. Mrs. Atherton is hoping so. She said it’s been too dry this winter.”
Gwen leaned her head against the edge of the window and gazed out. “I do miss the snow. It seemed to make the world brighter and cleaner.”
“Cleaner . . . until the horses and carriages started mucking things up. Then it was an utter mess.” Lydia made a face that showed her distaste.
“Well, I don’t miss the bitter cold at all,” Hannah said. “There were too many days that no matter how much coal we fed the stove, the house never felt warm.”
“I know all that, but when the snow first fell all soft and pure, the world would seem hushed and peaceful. I loved that.” Gwen’s expression was dreamy. “And summer was never impossibly hot, nor were there masses of feasting flies.”
“No, just an incredible stink. And I rather like the heat and rain we get here,” Lydia said.
With a secretive smile on her lips, Gwen clasped her hands in her lap. “Course this summer might be special.”
“How so?” Lydia asked.
Gwen didn’t answer, but the smile remained on her lips.
“You’ve a secret. What is it?” Hannah leaned toward her.
“Out with it. Tell us,” Lydia teased.
With her hands clasped loosely, Gwen stretched her arms out in front of her. “I’m certain Perry’s going to ask me to marry him.” Her eyes danced with pleasure. “And I think summer is the best time for a wedding, don’t ye?”
Lydia looked stunned for a moment.
Concern touched Gwen’s eyes. “Ye don’t mind, do ye? I know that once the two of ye—”
“No. I don’t mind. I’m just surprised. I’m thrilled for ye. Don’t worry ’bout Perry and me. We were only friends, nothing more. I think the two of ye are perfect for each other.” Lydia reached across the space between herself and Gwen and grasped the young woman’s hand. “He’s lucky to have ye.”
“I’m the lucky one. He’s a fine man and sometimes treats me as if I’m royalty or something. And he doesn’t mind at all ’bout me past, me being in gaol and all that has happened.”
Nothing was said, but all three knew the atrocities committed against women prisoners. Every woman dreaded the possibility of what could happen and remembered the terror of night aboard a prison ship.
“I should think not,” Hannah said. “He was a prisoner himself and a street rat before that.”
“I’d not call him a street rat,” Gwen said defensively. “He lived on the streets, but only because he had no other choice. And although I’m sure he wasn’t beyond reproach, he never gave in to the temptations of thievery and some of the other violence. He remained an upstanding citizen, respectable.”
Either Gwen was unwilling to look at the truth or Perry hadn’t been forthcoming with her. Hannah knew the full story. Perry had never been as bad a scoundrel as some, but he’d done what was necessary to survive. She said nothing, not wanting to endanger the joyful glow on Gwen’s face. How good to see her in love. “Perry’s a fine man, no matter his past,” she said. “And he’ll make a good husband.”
The coach jolted to a stop. The driver stepped down from his perch, opened the door, and gave the ladies a hand out. “I’ll take the coach ’round to the stables and give the horses some feed and water. I’ll be back for ye in three hours’ time. Will that suit ye?”
Lydia glanced at the others. “That’s fine with me. I’m sure I will have completed my errands.”
“I’ll be ready,” Gwen said.
“Me too.” A gust of wind swept cold, damp air up off the bay, and Hannah pulled her cloak closed at the neck.
The driver nodded and climbed back onto the coach seat. With a slap of the reins, he moved the team down the street.
“I’ve some things to get for Mrs. Atherton and for Dalton,” Lydia said. “The mercantile ought to carry most of what I need.”
Hannah wished she could do some just-for-fun shopping, but funds were limited. John’s shirts were in bad condition, and she dare not wait longer to make him new ones. “I’m in need of broadcloth, so I’ll join you.”
Gwen held up a satchel. “My boots are so badly worn I can’t put off repairs. I’ll take them to the cobbler. Then I’m going to stop in at the millinery shop.” She smiled at Lydia. “I love your new hat, and you’ve inspired me to get something new for church and special occasions.”
Lydia smiled. “Good for you.” She opened a small purse and fished out a few coins. “Shall we eat at the café across from the mercantile? I managed to save some coppers out of my pay.” Hannah mentally calculated the money she had and decided lunch was a manageable luxury. “I’d like to.”
“I’ve barely enough, but I wouldn’t pass it up,” Gwen said. “As long as the cobbler’s prices are unchanged.” She grinned. “We’ll be like proper ladies.”
“Of course. We are proper ladies,” Lydia said in a snobbish tone. She laughed and then went silent. The green in her eyes darkened as they settled on something across the street.
It was David. He hadn’t seen them and walked briskly down the opposite side of the street.
“I am a lady, even if he doesn’t see me that way,” Lydia said tersely. She watched him until he stepped into the apothecary. Abruptly, she turned to Hannah. “We best be off if we’re to be ready for the coach when it r
eturns.”
“I’ll meet ye at the café in one hour, then?” Gwen asked.
“An hour.” Feeling badly for Lydia, Hannah put an arm about her friend’s waist and watched Gwen walk toward the cobbler’s shop.
“Do ye think she and Perry will actually get married?” Lydia asked.
“I doubt she’d say so if she didn’t believe it.” Hannah gave her friend a squeeze. “They’re a good match. She’s fun-loving enough for Perry, but levelheaded too, so she’ll make a good wife.”
Lydia turned and walked toward the mercantile, the lightness gone from her step. She didn’t even give the apothecary shop a glance.
When Hannah stepped into the store, a tantalizing jumble of smells greeted her—tobacco, peppermint, a mix of spices, and even baked goods. They’d recently started selling pastries and breads.
She wandered toward a shelf with a neatly displayed set of dainty cups and saucers. She picked up one of the cups, thinking how nice it would be to serve company in something so delicate.
“Nice, eh?” Lydia examined the matching saucer. “They’re not much use to the likes of us.” She returned it to the display shelf. “I don’t even have me own house. Probably never will.” She smoothed her skirt. “I’m not complaining, though. I’ve come a long way from the hold of the transport ship. I’m grateful for it.”
The reminder kicked Hannah back to reality. “We have a lot to be thankful for.” As she set the cup back on the shelf, the desire to own it no longer tugged at her. She moved toward the back of the store where the fabrics were kept.
She walked between two aisles of cloth, occasionally touching a piece of fabric and even smoothing it between her fingers. The lingering smell of dyes and the look and feel of the material carried her back to London and to her mother’s shop. Tender memories enveloped her.
As she moved toward the heavier, less-refined material, a bolt of red taffeta seemed to reach out to her from the shelf. She couldn’t pass it by. Picking up the fabric, she held it against her, remembering how once, for a young woman’s coming-out, she and her mother had created a gown from a nearly identical piece.
“Can I be of help?”
The voice cut into Hannah’s reverie. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
A tall, broad-shouldered woman smiled. “Just thought I might be of help.” Her eyes fell to the taffeta. “Lovely, isn’t it.” “Yes. It is.” Embarrassed, Hannah returned it to the shelf and moved on to the broadcloth. “I was thinking about this. Five yards should do.”
“Of course.” The woman stepped past Hannah and picked up a bolt of the broadcloth. “This is a lovely shade of blue.”
“It is. It will do nicely. Thank you.”
Hannah glanced back at the finer fabrics. Perhaps by summer she’d have enough money to purchase some for a new dress.
Lydia had gone on to the millinery shop, hoping to help Gwen pick out a hat. She’d promised to meet Hannah at the café. Her arms laden with fabric, buttons, and thread, Hannah walked toward the eatery. She was half a block away when she saw her friends. Two sailors stood alongside them. It appeared they were blocking their way.
“Come on now,” one of the men said. “Just a bit of fun is all we’re asking for. I know ye could do with a quid or two, eh?” He offered a sickly grin and reached into his pocket.
“Let us pass,” Lydia said boldly.
The other man stepped in front of her. “Ye know ye want to. Just say yes. We’ve had our share of convict lydies and we’ve shown ’em a good time. And ye look like ye could do with some fun.”
Fear imprinted on her face, Gwen clasped a package to her chest and huddled close to Lydia.
“We’ve no intention of joining ye for a ‘good time.’ You’ve annoyed me long enough.” Lydia tried to push past the man. He grabbed her arm. “Ye think yer too fancy for the likes of me, eh? Don’t fool yerself. Yer riffraff and no better than anyone else. And ye’ll come along with me.”
Without thought for herself, Hannah hurried to her friends’ defense. “Stop it! Stop it this minute!” She tried to step between the man and Lydia, but he was having none of it. Not to be put off, Hannah demanded in her most authoritarian voice, “Release her!”
The man settled small, gray eyes on Hannah. “Or ye’ll do what?” He sneered and then sniggered as he glanced at his friend and then turned back to Hannah.
The other man stepped up. “Eh, Patrick, what d’ye think?” He allowed his eyes to roam over Hannah.
His look made Hannah feel violated. She forced herself to meet his gaze and not back down.
“She’d make a fine treat, eh.” He pressed in close to Hannah.
She stepped back, unable to stand the stink of him. “Don’t touch me or I’ll scream.”
“Ye’ll scream?” He feigned fear. “Scream away, then.” He glanced up and down the street. “Hmm, seems there’s no help for convicts these days.” The ugly smile returned. “Have ye forgotten yer duty . . . to serve hardworking sailors like us?”
Patrick tightened his hold on Lydia and dragged her toward a hotel doorway. “We’ll be done and out in no time. And ye’ll be richer for it.”
The other sailor looked from Gwen to Hannah. “If ye give us any trouble, ye’ll not get paid.”
Hannah’s stomach roiled, but his comments only made her angrier. “We’re not convicts. My husband and I own an estate not far from here, and these ladies work for me.”
With a knowing expression, the man studied Hannah. He lifted his eyebrows in an exaggerated way. “Ye expect me to believe that?” He laughed. “I suppose that’s why yer dressed in such finery, eh?” He lunged at Hannah and grabbed her wrist. Her parcels fell to the walkway.
Hannah was about to scream when a hand clapped hold of the sailor’s arm and wrenched him away. David Gelson thrust him backward, slamming him against the wall of a building. The air left the sailor’s lungs in a loud wheeze. He slumped to the ground, gasping. David turned to the one holding Lydia. “Unhand her!”
Patrick glared at David. He didn’t free her, but instead yanked her closer. “And who do ye think ye are?”
David pulled a pistol out of his belt and leveled it at the man. “A man with a gun,” he stated disdainfully. “Now, release her.” He fixed Patrick with a lethal stare.
The one on the ground tried to push himself up, but without thinking Hannah smashed the heel of her shoe into his face. He hollered and covered his face with his hands. Blood dribbled through his fingers and down his chin. Although shocked at what she’d done, Hannah liked the sensation of power, especially over such a loathsome person.
The scoundrel holding Lydia glanced at his friend, then looked back at David, his eyes fixed on the pistol. “Ye’d kill a man over a tart?”
“She’s no tart, but yes, I would.” David’s voice was deadly calm.
Patrick studied him, then took a step back and at the same time let go of Lydia’s wrist. “We meant no harm. Figured they’d be happy to earn a few extra guineas; they’re nothing but strumpets anyway.” He tossed Lydia a scornful look. “But not worth the trouble. We’ll be on our way.” He moved to his friend and hauled him up from the ground. With another nervous glance at the pistol, the two moved away, disappearing around the first corner.
When they were out of sight, David pushed the pistol into his holster and turned to the women. “You ladies all right?” His eyes went to Lydia.
“We’re unharmed.” Lydia tidied her hair and smoothed her skirt. “Thank ye for the help.”
“Yes, thank ye kindly.” Gwen retied her bonnet. “Vile men like them oughtn’t be allowed on the streets.” She glanced down the road. “If not for you, I don’t know what would have become of us.”
“Thank you, David,” Hannah said. “It seems there’s nothing you can’t do. If you’d not come along when you did . . .”
He smiled and a dimple appeared in his right cheek. “Glad I could be of assistance.” He tugged at his waistcoat and smoothed his jacket. “And wh
at brings you ladies into town?”
“We’ve errands to do for the Athertons,” Lydia said, her voice sounding slightly ragged.
“And I’m here at Lydia and Gwen’s invitation,” Hannah said. She bent to retrieve her purchases.
“Allow me.” David quickly gathered up the packages and sundry items and handed them to Hannah.
“Thank you.” Hannah held the parcels against her chest. “We were about to go to lunch, would you care to join us?”
David glanced at Lydia, then looked at Hannah. “There’s nothing I’d rather do, but I’ve a patient to see.” He leveled a meaningful gaze on Lydia. “Perhaps another time?”
“Are ye speaking to me or to all of us?” Lydia challenged.
He smiled and the dimple reappeared. He glanced at each of the women. “I’d enjoy the company of any one of you.” His eyes moved to Lydia. “But I’d especially like to spend a bit of time with you.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “And what about Deidre? I doubt she’d approve of our spending time together. I thought the two of ye were a pair.”
“Deidre has no say about whom I see or when. And just so you know, she and I are nothing more than acquaintances.”
Arms still folded, Lydia didn’t reply, but she held his gaze. “Perhaps I could call on you at the Athertons’?”
“And why would ye do that? I’m not the kind of woman ye’d want to be seen with. I’m not at all genteel and I can promise ye I never will be.”
“You’re genteel enough for me.”
“That’s not what ye used to think. Why the change of heart?” David glanced at Hannah and Gwen, looking a bit discomfited. His eyes meeting Lydia’s, he said, “I’ve come to see I was wrong. I’m sorry.” He reached for her hand. “Please, may I call on you?”
Lydia’s gaze shifted to their two hands, then back to David’s blue eyes. “If ye’ve a mind to call, then come ’round. I’ll most likely be there.”
David lifted Lydia’s hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against the back of her fingers. He released her hand and, with a nod to all the ladies, turned and walked away.
