Being with Darcey might have been easier if he knew for certain that she was untouched. There was a purity to the idea of it, but more than that he was bothered by a lack of total possession on his part. Everything in his life had been owned by another before him. Even Maria, although Ross knew in his soul that, despite Holder’s insinuations, he’d been her first lover, just as she had been his. There was a sacredness to their relationship, and when the business with Darcey was complete Ross intended to go to Darwin and reclaim her.
He gave a brief knock and entered the room. The stub of a candle burnt on the bedside dresser and insects massed around the brightness. Darcey was stirring something in a glass. She didn’t acknowledge him immediately, instead drinking the contents before enveloping herself inside the netting suspended from the ceiling. A glow of light highlighted her face, hair and bare shoulders, her eyes betraying the calm image she was trying to portray.
Ross undressed, a strange mixture of anticipation and guilt making his movements clumsy. The netting untucked easily and he lifted the sheet, settling in the bed next to her. Ross didn’t want to be the one to begin this charade. He’d spent the day out riding, spurring his poor horse to the gallop until sweat lathered them both. Keeping clear of Darcey was his only objective.
‘Connor said you were very sick after the attack,’ said Darcey, breaking the silence.
‘I survived. I don’t believe in slavery, Darcey. I was trying to protect –’ He stopped before saying Maria’s name aloud. The girl need never know of the pact made with his wife but still Ross saw the act that was to come as something of a betrayal.
‘Connor also told me that your intentions were right,’ she said gently.
The insects droned noisily.
‘Perhaps you should blow out the candle,’ suggested Ross.
Darcey ignored the request. ‘Thank you for agreeing to this.’
He turned towards her, readying to drag her body beneath his.
The kiss she offered was unexpected. He pulled away, not wanting such intimacy.
‘Don’t,’ she said softly, drawing him back to her. The candle spluttered and died.
Ross had imagined they would be like two rutting sheep, the business over with only the barest of interactions. That’s what he’d visualised. One of Gleneagle’s stud rams and a docile ewe. It made the thought of the venture achievable without the encumbrance of emotion. But the woman beneath him didn’t allow for such rudimentary coupling. Darcey was persistent, patient, halting his rushed progression with a firm hand planted on his chest. In the end Ross returned her kisses, his need fed by her gentle persuasion that left his earlier thoughts wrecked by base desire.
He departed immediately after, clothes clutched to his chest, feeling like a thief as the bedroom door clicked shut. In the study Ross lit the kerosene lantern and dressed quickly, swilling a mouthful of rum straight from the bottle. He was wide awake. Every muscle in his body pulsed. Sleep would be impossible so how was it that a vagueness was centring itself in his body, making him feel uncertain?
It was so different with Darcey compared to Maria. Ross knew that, despite his wishes to keep Darcey a stranger, as a husband there were certain rights requiring no justification. The dilemma, however, remained. The act itself. The moment of abandon, the agonisingly slow march to an ending made possible by Darcey’s uncompromising restraint. Perhaps that’s what bothered him. Her self-control and his lack of it. It struck Ross that Darcey’s self-possession was more than the singular issue of self-control. He’d been led to that place of satisfaction by experience. His wife had not come to their marriage bed a virgin. It had been just as he thought, and yet he had enjoyed the experience.
Chapter 38
1920–21
Ross avoided Darcey. Craftily, rudely, desperately. There were the hurried excuses of a buffalo sighting, a crocodile, a dispute in Sowden’s camp. Ross was late for meals and then went straight to sleep in the room built for Maria, having abdicated his own bedroom for his wife. He lay on Maria’s bed, staring at the few items of clothing he’d purchased for her, which were still hanging from a wall peg. A red skirt, a lace-edged blouse, a length of ribbon. His own clothes, hastily moved from his bedroom before Darcey’s arrival, were piled on a chair near a washstand. Alastair’s novels had been moved from the tin trunk in the common area to an iron bucket in Ross’s current room, where they remained safe from termites, protected from Darcey and the sentimentality she would attach to Ross for his possession of his brother’s boyish things. Ross hated the room for its emptiness. For its monastic space, which pushed in on him as he tried to reconcile what he wanted and what he had.
He grew used to absconding at daybreak and going bush for three or four days at a time. It was easy to disappear. The wet season was late arriving, and the days were predominantly clear. Brian the carpenter returned early and unannounced, having fought with his wife at Pine Creek, and so the house became noisy with his saw and hammer. The women continually complained about the mess his building made as they went about with their housework. Christmas came and then New Year. By mid-January Ross had ridden southwards several times to camp out alone away from Darcey, each fall of rain limiting the distance he was able to cover as water spread across the land.
Ross ruminated on that first night with Darcey and the subsequent nights they spent together, trying to find some reasoning for the predicament he was in. He talked it out with Nugget, welcoming the lack of response. He rode until exhaustion bit hard and then slept feet away from the mangy horse that had become his ally. Try as he did, Ross could unearth no logic as to why Darcey was now at Waybell and Maria was not.
And he couldn’t go to Maria. Not yet. He would keep her safe from Holder, who still threatened them with legal action. The last he’d heard, the knife wound had become infected and an ulcerous sore was keeping Holder in constant pain. Ross knew he had no choice but to wait. It was too soon since the scandal. That was an awakening of sorts. Learning that he wasn’t totally undone by his time in the Territory, that shreds of Grant respectability still held firm. There was no accounting for any of it except for what Homer drew on so often: fate.
After another week camping rough Ross returned to Waybell, handing Nugget over to JJ for tending. The gelding was exhausted and hungry, his black coat gritty with sweat and dust.
‘You trying to kill this horse of yours, Boss?’ asked JJ.
Ross patted Nugget and the horse whinnied. ‘Just tend him.’
He drank from a waterbag hanging in the stable and with his belongings over a shoulder circumnavigated the homestead, doing his best to keep clear of people, especially Darcey. Ross chose the place of the fallen trees at the back of the house, not expecting to be disturbed, planning on waiting until late evening before going indoors.
‘There you are,’ said Darcey. ‘I saw you arrive home.’ She was dressed in pants and a shirt and was wearing boots.
‘You’ve been riding,’ said Ross, trying not to show his annoyance at being interrupted or the exhaustion he felt, concentrating instead on Darcey’s use of the term ‘home’ as if theirs was a normal relationship.
‘Yes. Connor saddled up one of the mares for me. I didn’t get very far. The country’s waterlogged, although from what I’ve heard it’s not as wet as last year. Apparently Brian will be able to get through to Pine Creek if he takes a detour to the south.’ She looked at him expectantly, clearly hoping for a reply. ‘He’s nearly finished the windows and will be leaving in a few days. And you’ve been exploring?’
‘I’m tired, Darcey.’
‘Ross, I know you’re avoiding me. This is –’
‘Awkward? Yes. I’m not sure I can go on with it,’ said Ross. ‘It feels wrong.’
‘Is it so very bad?’ asked Darcey.
He sighed, unsure of how to reply.
Darcey sat down on a stump opposite him. Grease from the saddle ran in a line down the inside of her beige trousers. ‘Don’t you want a child?’
&nb
sp; ‘I hadn’t thought of it,’ replied Ross.
‘Until I asked for one?’
‘Yes,’ said Ross.
‘We are husband and wife, Ross.’
‘You slept with Alastair in London. Didn’t you?’
She plucked at something in the grass. ‘Yes. I’m sorry if that bothers you.’
‘I’m surprised and disappointed,’ he admitted.
‘In me or your brother?’
‘Both, I suppose,’ said Ross. ‘For what he did to you and for what you –’
Darcey’s smile crinkled her nose. ‘My husband the puritan. Alastair would laugh at you if he were here.’
‘I’m sure he’s laughing anyway,’ Ross snapped.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Ross, it’s just that love is only love. It can’t always be contained neatly according to everyone’s expectations or with a view to what might possibly happen in the future. Look at us, we’re married and yet you’ve fallen in love with someone else.’
‘We were talking about my brother,’ Ross reminded her.
‘Yes, we were. During the war no one knew what was going to occur. It seemed such a small thing to be with the man I loved. Do you hate me for that? The fact that I loved him?’
‘As it turns out, I guess you’re glad you slept with him,’ said Ross.
Darcey rubbed something in her palm and smelt it. ‘Actually, I’m not,’ she answered, flicking the herbage away. ‘Now I know he wasn’t worthy of what I gave him.’
How Darcey felt about Alastair’s behaviour wasn’t something Ross had ever contemplated. It seemed to him she was a willing enough participant at the time.
‘And you,’ asked Darcey. ‘Have you loved many women?’
Ross didn’t answer and they sat for a while, neither of them speaking. He thought of Maria alone in Darwin and her parting words that she would wait for him. This business with Darcey needed to be resolved and there was only one way to be free of her.
‘I don’t know what I need to say to make things better between us. Perhaps one night we could start by eating a meal together,’ she said. ‘I brought some wine with me. You might like to try some. Would you like to try some? Now?’
Ross knew that if he didn’t accept an argument might follow and then they would be back at the starting gates of this badly thought-out race. He followed Darcey to the house. A little table was arranged on the rear veranda with two glasses, a bottle and a small plate of cheese. Ross poured the wine, noting the alcohol had already been sampled.
Darcey tapped a file of powder into the glass and stirred it. Ross wondered what it was. He’d first noticed her consuming it when he’d come to her bed. But he didn’t ask, he didn’t care to know. If they were to live together a little longer it was far better they remain strangers in all but the flesh.
‘Thank you,’ said Darcey.
‘For what?’ he queried.
‘For giving me time.’
‘This arrangement can’t last forever, you know.’
Darcey moved a square of cheese on the platter. It was already drying in the warm air.
‘Then you’ll have to stop avoiding me,’ she replied.
Chapter 39
Darcey held the child’s wrist, wrapping a length of calico bandage around the cut. Next to her, Annie tutted loudly, complaining that the medicine couldn’t possibly work when it came out of a white man’s tin. Patiently, Darcey explained that it was only salve, a simple ointment that would aid healing. If it didn’t, she promised they would try Annie’s way, the old way, however she was to give it a week first and the young girl was to return every day so that Darcey could check the wound.
‘You’re a regular Florence Nightingale,’ said Connor, walking past Darcey where she sat on the homestead steps. He nodded to Sowden, who was waiting for her attention.
Ross greeted his friend at the door to the house as a young woman hobbled up the dirt path to join the waiting queue.
‘Your wife’s clinics are getting more popular by the week,’ observed Connor. ‘Settled in very well, hasn’t she? Sowden’s been seeing Darcey quite a bit, you know. It seems the poor blighter has sores on the backs of his legs the size of dinner plates, and since Darcey told him to lay on his stomach for part of each day there’s been an improvement. If ever a missionary was hoping to convert a flock, it seems your wife is winning on the medicinal front.’
‘She had some training in London,’ replied Ross. ‘Nurse’s aide or something like that. Anyway, sprains and cuts are the worst of things here.’
‘She’s been here for nearly four months and you’re still not taken with her, are you?’ Connor drew up a chair and the two men sat at the dining table, a large map spread out between them.
‘She only came here for one reason, Connor.’
‘Aye, maybe she did, but I’d not be complaining for you mightn’t have a bairn yet but it must be rather pleasant trying. A bit of lust in the dust, eh?’
‘I’m glad you see the funny side of it,’ said Ross.
Connor frowned and shook his head. ‘A child, Ross. Think on it. It’s something a man like me can only dream of.’
‘I never gave much thought to children,’ admitted Ross.
‘That’s because you’re still young.’
‘Her coming here. Wanting a baby. It’s not what I expected. None of this is.’
‘Few people get what they want in life, and if they do manage to it’s never quite what they anticipated. Anyway, this situation isn’t all bad.’ Connor nudged Ross in the arm. ‘Darcey might just manage to lift a wee corner on that prickly hide of yours. Now that would be an achievement. So, we’ll be ready to leave for the muster in a week. Is Darcey coming with us?’
‘I haven’t invited her. She isn’t used to this life.’
‘Maybe not, but she’s taken to it,’ stated Connor.
‘Still, I’d feel better if she stayed here with Annie and Sowden. Besides, I have other things to attend to.’
‘Such as?’ queried Connor. ‘I’ve not seen the Darwin abattoir yet.’
‘And there’s a reason for that,’ said Connor. ‘We’re waiting for the fuss to die down.’
‘I’m sick of waiting. It’s been over five months. People have short memories.’
‘Not if you stroll into Darwin and knock on a certain young woman’s door, they won’t. Dinnae look at me like that. You’ve been itching to get back there. It’s bad enough you’ve been writing to her, Ross, but one of these days someone’s going to discover that you’re still in contact with each other. Have you ever thought that she might not have your patience? She’s smart enough. She will have heard that Darcey’s around.’
‘Darcey and I have an understanding.’
‘I’m sure,’ he answered cynically. ‘But the rest of the Territory mightn’t be so free-thinking.’ Connor glanced at the pannikin sitting on the table displaying an arrangement of wildflowers and shrubbery. ‘Your wife likes it here, Ross, and I haven’t heard you mention receiving any letters back from Maria.’
Ross passed Connor the ledger with last year’s livestock tallies and Connor began transferring the figures into a pocket notebook to take on the muster when they left. ‘You haven’t thought about it then?’
‘What?’ said Ross.
‘About how you’ll feel when you’re a father?’
‘I’ve thought about it. It hasn’t happened though, has it?’ said Ross sharply.
They heard Darcey call goodbye to Becky and some of the other women. She’d set parameters around their housekeeping with late morning the cut-off time for everyone to depart the homestead. Only Little Bill and a few other children stayed on for a limited time each day. Darcey taught them basic letters so that they could spell out their names in the dirt.
‘Can I get you some tea?’ Darcey placed the medicine chest on the table where the men sat.
‘No, nothing thanks, Darcey,’ answered Connor.
Darcey left the room as noiselessly as she’d
arrived.
‘So what do you think about Holder’s land?’ Connor pushed a squat thumb on a portion of the map to the south of Waybell. ‘He’s still in Pine Creek. Eustace heard from the publican that he’s not expected to last much longer.’
Their neighbour’s failing health was reported in the newspaper on a regular basis, making Ross wonder at the length of time it was taking for the man to die. It now seemed it wasn’t the knifing that ailed him but a battle with cancer that had been going on for years.
‘We’ll make an offer on Holder’s Run when the time comes.’ Ross took another look at the Territory map that highlighted Holder’s portion. Once he was dead and buried, there was one less obstacle in his path to Maria. The land would be a bonus.
‘There’ll be talk,’ replied Connor. ‘About you being the one to buy his land, if you’re successful.’
Ross rolled up the chart. ‘I’ll be successful, Connor. You’ll make sure of that.’
Chapter 40
After dinner, Darcey asked Ross if he would walk with her by the billabong. It wasn’t the first time she’d made such a request and, as Ross was leaving before dawn to travel to the first mustering camp with the rest of the stockmen, he found himself arm-in-arm with his wife. They dodged the muddy edges of the waterhole, disturbing scurrying water rats and lizards. The awkwardness of the situation was not lost on Ross. They were like young horses, sometimes nervy and flighty in each other’s company, at others strangely comfortable and capable of coming together in the most intimate of ways. But walking together at dusk was different ground. It required manoeuvring Ross was ill-equipped for.
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