‘So what was on her mind?’ Olivia was tense and very still as she sat at the table and Jessie could see she was battling to keep her emotions under control.
‘Your mother knew she was dying when she wrote this letter,’ she said softly. ‘I wrote back at once, but it was too late. I’ve since wondered if Eva gave into her conscience – or whether time had simply run out, leaving fate to decide the outcome.’
She looked back at Olivia. ‘After Irene’s visit I realised you had to be here in Australia and asking questions. It was then I rang through to Samuel for advice. I knew you couldn’t be far from Trinity.’
Her smile was soft, the regret a deep ache that would not be denied. ‘Your presence here, and the questions you have, proves to me that Eva couldn’t destroy the truth.’
The silence stretched and the tension in the room was almost tangible. ‘You found the papers, didn’t you?’
*
Olivia nodded. ‘They were the reason for this journey home,’ she muttered.
She stood and pulled the thin cotton curtains aside and leaned against the window frame as she stared out at the surrounding tropical rainforest. Coming so soon after the terrible scenes in Irene’s hospital room and the long hours on the wards, she wondered if she was truly ready for what was to come. Closing her eyes, she thought of Priscilla, her childhood companion, the one person who had known her better than anyone. What would her imaginary friend’s advice have been for a moment like this?
Olivia took a deep breath. The time for childish things was past – she had to see through the glass darkly and face the demons alone. Priscilla couldn’t help her any more. She turned back to face the others and looked at Maggie. She could understand all too well how this must be affecting her, and wished whole–heartedly she didn’t need to take this conversation to its inevitable conclusion. Yet it was time for the truth. She and Jessie owed her that at least.
‘I cannot begin to describe the horror I experienced when I found those documents. Or the heartache.’ She fell silent, remembering those dark days of tears and pain, and the realisation that Eva had lied to her. ‘Yet, as the months have gone on, I’ve realised they made sense of so many things that up until then, had remained a mystery.’
She held Maggie’s gaze and tried to silently convey her love and support. ‘Then I came home to Trinity and discovered you were also a part of the equation. That threw me totally.’
*
Maggie felt as if she’d been slapped. ‘Thanks,’ she retorted. ‘I thought we were friends?’
‘We are,’ said Olivia as she grasped Maggie’s hand in earnest entreaty. ‘Please don’t ever doubt that.’
She looked deeply into Olivia’s eyes and wanted to believe her, and yet a part of her couldn’t. Hurt and isolation had made her wary – had ensured her mistrust of anyone. Even her love for Sam was tempered by the fear that one day he might leave her – and the inbuilt safety mechanism was still firmly in place to protect the soft, inner core that could so easily be damaged.
Maggie lifted her chin, aware the earlier tears had shown her as weak. Above all, she decided, she must maintain the outward show of cheerful acceptance and rough good humour they all expected from her. ‘We’ll be right,’ she said with forced brightness. ‘Reckon there’s not much more that can shock me after the sort of life I’ve had.’
Olivia returned to her place at the window, her arms folded tightly around her waist.
‘You sound so very bitter,’ said Jessie, her face drawn with anxiety.
Maggie gave a cough of derision. ‘Not really surprising when you consider what I’ve been through.’
The silence was profound, and Maggie felt the comforting warmth of Sam’s arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him and, as she began to retell her story, she felt the anger and bitterness pour out. She held nothing back, despite the knowledge that this elderly woman was being hurt by her revelations, for Jessie must have been part of the betrayal – an important influence on Irene’s decision to be rid of her illegitimate child.
‘So, now you know it all,’ she said finally. She looked at Jessie, her emotions raw. ‘I can understand why Irene didn’t want me,’ she said. ‘I was a mistake. A shameful result of some misguided affair that would damage her reputation and ruin her life. But you say Eva tried to find me all those years ago. Why didn’t you tell her where I was? You must have known about the orphanage. It would have been so easy to trace me from there.’
‘I didn’t know,’ said Jessie flatly. ‘Irene told me nothing of what had happened to you.’
Maggie pushed away from Sam and stood, the anger running through her in hot waves. ‘You must have known,’ she shouted. ‘She was living with you at the time. You said so.’
Jessie nodded, seemingly unfazed by Maggie’s outburst. ‘True enough,’ she said. ‘But I suspect you already have some idea of how resourceful and sly Irene can be, and I was certainly no match for her.’
She looked down at the cat on her knee and absently stroked the ginger fur. ‘I realise you probably don’t believe me, but I had no idea of what she’d done until it was too late.’
‘But Olivia found those documents,’ Maggie persisted. ‘Eva must have discovered the truth eventually.’
‘No,’ said Olivia with unaccustomed sharpness.
‘What do you mean?’ Maggie crossed the room and stood in front of Olivia, forcing her to look her in the eye. ‘Why else would those bits of paper bring you all the way back here if they didn’t reveal my existence?’
Maggie saw the look that passed between Olivia and Jessie. It was fleeting, but Maggie could have sworn it was a silent plea for help. ‘Come on, Olivia,’ she said roughly. ‘You say you’re my friend. So prove it. Tell me the bloody truth and stop this nonsense once and for all.’
Olivia took a deep breath. ‘Those papers were nothing to do with you,’ she said clearly into the silence. ‘I didn’t know anything about you until that night we spent on the beach together.’ She took Maggie’s hands. ‘They were simply the proof that everything I had ever taken for granted was a lie,’ she said softly.
23
‘Those bits of paper you found are only a part of the truth,’ said Jessie, breaking the tension. ‘To understand why they existed at all, you need to hear the full story.’
Maggie slumped back into the chair and Sam pulled her closely into his embrace as if to protect her from anything Jessie might divulge. Olivia returned to her seat by the table, her face white and anxious.
Jessie realised they were hurt and confused, and could only hope the truth might make some amends for the decisions she and Eva had made all those years ago. She ran her fingers lightly through the cat’s ginger fur and felt the reassuring rumble of his purring. If only Eva were here, she thought sadly. She was so much better at expressing herself, so much more capable of finding the right words.
Jessie looked at the photographs on the dresser, her gaze searching for and finding Eva. The tiny figure in the elegant white gown gave no hint of the ferocious tenacity and strength of character she possessed, but it could be seen in the dark eyes and strong chin. The thick, wavy hair and delicate cheekbones spoke of femininity, but Eva’s will had been stronger than any man’s, her thinking beyond the constrictions of the society in which she lived. Not for her the silent acquiescence of her generation of women who rarely thought for themselves and were happy to remain in their husband’s shadow.
She was a woman before her time, Jessie realised. A woman who’d had to learn to be independent. A woman who met each crisis in her life and dealt with it as best she could and to hell with what society made of her. But the scandal of what had happened with Irene had nearly broken her. She’d had no alternative but to return to England.
As she sat there in the expectant hush she thought she could feel the strength of Eva’s presence, and as she began to
talk, it was as if Eva was telling her what to say.
*
Eva paced the floor, her thoughts flitting from one thing to another as she felt the silence of the great Melbourne house closing in. It was so lonely without Irene and Jessie, and the worry over Freddy’s whereabouts was giving her sleepless, restless nights.
Not that she wasn’t concerned for Irene’s welfare – she was – but at least she knew she was safe and well and being looked after properly. Which was more than could be said for Freddy. He was out in that terrible wilderness where a man could lie injured and undiscovered for months, and the images of what could have happened to him were so haunting she couldn’t bear thinking about them.
She stopped walking and stood at the long windows that overlooked the garden. The wide plot stretched behind the house in a swathe of verdant green bordered by a riotous mixture of flowers and delicately blossomed trees. It was raining as usual, the temperature cool for summer, reminding her of England. The scent of the roses emphasised the memory, and she experienced an almost overwhelming desire to return home – to see her parents and sisters again, and feel the security that only family could bring in times of trouble.
Eva let the muslin curtain drop. ‘Stuff and nonsense,’ she muttered. ‘Father would say ‘I told you so,’ and Mama would agree with him.’ They had been against her coming to this raw colonial outpost – against her marrying Frederick despite his family connections. To admit she wasn’t happy was admitting defeat – and that was not Eva’s way.
She sat down in her favourite chair by the window and picked up a book. Moments later she set it aside. It was impossible to concentrate with so much on her mind.
Staring through the sheath of muslin, she put her hands gently on the burgeoning mound of her unborn child. Freddy had already left on his latest surveying expedition when she discovered she was to be a mother again, and she was almost relieved she hadn’t told him her news, for there had been disappointments before. Yet the promise of new life might have sped him home sooner – might have made him less willing to take risks.
She sighed and her thoughts wandered naturally to Irene, who was due to have her own baby any time now. How she wished she could be there in Queensland. Mothers and daughters should be together at such moments – should be enforcing the ties that bound them, bringing them closer.
Eva sighed. She had never really been close to Irene, she realised. Had never really known her at all, for if she had, would the girl have had such an unsuitable affair? Would she now be planning to give her baby away with as little thought as she might have for throwing away an old dress? Her hands stilled and she frowned as her own unborn child moved inside her. Was it a sin to love too much? An error of judgement to allow one’s precious child to become the focus of all one did and said? Was it a mother’s lot to bear the children and sit by as they broke her heart?
Her eyes misted with tears. Irene had been such a beautiful child, but these past two years had revealed a wanton, spoilt young woman who was a stranger to the truth unless it suited her. Yet the times they lived in meant her punishment was harsh, Eva admitted. To have to make the terrible sacrifice of giving her baby away so there was some hope for a decent future was something Eva doubted she could do. But then, she silently admitted. I desperately wanted my babies. They were planned and eagerly awaited – their loss mourned deeply – how could I ever understand what Irene’s going through?
The light tap on the door interrupted her thoughts, and Eva smoothed her skirts and patted her hair. ‘Come.’
Eliza was the new housemaid and still a little rough around the edges, but she was learning, Eva noticed, as the girl sketched a curtsy. ‘It’s the Governor, Mrs Hamilton. I wasn’t sure if you was receiving this afternoon.’
Eva felt the chill of foreboding. ‘Show him in, Eliza.’
The Governor was a large man in every sense of the word. Over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a hearty voice, Maurice Wilson seemed to fill the room. ‘Dear Lady,’ he boomed as he towered over her and kissed the air above her fingers.
‘Governor Wilson,’ she said with an inclination of her head. ‘May I offer you some refreshment?’
He shook his leonine head, his expression grim. ‘Thank you, but no, dear lady. This is not really a social call.’
Eva nodded to Eliza, who left the room and closed the door behind her. She felt faint, but was damned if she was going to make a fool of herself in front of this appalling man. Charming he might be, but Maurice Wilson, Governor of Melbourne, was all too obviously of the lower classes. A man who’d made good in this relatively new colony regardless of his suspect background.
She sat down with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances. ‘You have news of my husband.’ It was a statement, the tone firm despite the rising fear.
Maurice Wilson nodded and sat down on the couch beside her. ‘A runner came in from the last search party two nights ago,’ he said, his face solemn.
Eva’s fingers were tightly clasped on her lap, and she could feel the throb of her pulse in her neck. ‘Two nights ago? Why wasn’t I informed immediately?’
‘I thought it best to wait until we had something definite to tell you,’ he said ponderously.
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Eva’s tone was flat, her expression a mask of control which hid the inner anguish.
‘They found him in a dry riverbed. Judging by his injuries, the tracker can only surmise he was thrown from his horse and tried to make his way to water. As you probably know, the drought in the Northern Territories has been particularly bad. He didn’t stand a chance. I’m sorry.’
Poor Freddy, she thought as the image of him crawling across that harsh, red desert in search of water came to haunt her. Poor, darling Freddy. If only you had been as other men and stayed at home. She dipped her chin, her eyes blinded with unshed tears. But that wasn’t his way. She’d loved him for his sense of adventure. Admired him for the courage and unflagging enthusiasm for this tough, merciless land. Freddy had died as he’d lived – in the heart of the country he loved. ‘What of the others?’ she asked.
Maurice Wilson patted her clasped hands. ‘Only one survivor, dear lady, and he’s too sick to make any sense as yet. The search party found him several miles away from your husband, so it appears the expedition became separated.’ He paused, his fingers stroking the back of her hand. ‘Is there someone I can call to be with you? I understand your daughter is visiting friends in the north.’
Eva shook her head and eased her fingers from his grasp. She didn’t want him touching her. Needed to be alone. Needed him gone.
‘They are bringing him back to Melbourne, and I’ve taken the liberty of arranging the funeral. I hope you don’t mind?’
She looked at him, her mind numb with grief. ‘How soon?’ she asked.
‘In three days,’ he replied.
Eva sat in silence, her thoughts frozen.
‘Are you sure I can’t contact anyone for you, Eva?’ Maurice’s voice was unusually restrained, but, thankfully, he didn’t attempt to touch her again. ‘I could send a wire up to your daughter?’
Eva stood, her emotions rigorously under control. ‘I will contact my daughter,’ she said firmly. ‘But there is something you can do for me. I wish to see the survivor.’
He hesitated. ‘I really don’t …’
She held up her hand to silence him. ‘I wish to see him today, Governor. He’s the only one who can tell me about my poor husband’s last days. Will you make the arrangements?’
‘As you wish,’ he sighed. ‘But don’t expect too much from him. He’s very ill.’
Eva held out her hand. ‘Thank you for coming, Governor. I know it couldn’t have been easy.’
His vast hand smothered her fingers. ‘I will let you know the details of the funeral arrangements,’ he said solemnly. ‘And if there is anything e
lse I can do, you need only ask. Frederick was a good man and much admired at Government House.’
Eva waited until he’d closed the door behind him, then she slumped back down on the couch and gave in to her grief.
*
Jessie returned to the present and tipped the cat from her lap. ‘I’m going to make another pot of tea,’ she said firmly. ‘All this talking is thirsty work.’
She refused Samuel’s offer of help and gathered up the tea things before hurrying into the tiny kitchen at the back of the house. Setting the kettle on the hob, she fed the cats. She needed these few quiet moments to think. Needed to get things in the right order. It had all happened so long ago, and although the memories were clear, the timing was crucial if she wasn’t to make a hash of it.
Filling the teapot, she washed and dried the cups and carried everything back into the other room. She didn’t like the heavy silence that greeted her, or the strained smiles, and was forcibly reminded of the day Eva had arrived in Trinity.
The tea was hot and strong and went some way to reviving her flagging spirits. The sooner everything was out in the open, the better, she decided. The strain was beginning to tell and she was getting too old for all this. Too old to be digging up painful memories – too old to carry the burden of the secret the three of them had shared for so many years.
‘Mother told me about the funeral,’ said Olivia into the silence. ‘She found it overwhelming and was glad when it was over.’
Jessie nodded. ‘The Governor pulled out all the stops,’ she said. ‘The nearest thing to a state funeral he could provide. The streets were crowded, the cortege endless, with black horses and black plumes and a glass hearse. There were speeches and dignitaries and an enormous lunch provided at Government House. Eva was exhausted by it all and would have preferred to say her goodbyes to Frederick in private without all the razzamatazz.’
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