Hawkins' Grove
Page 3
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That same evening Matilda Jane Langley sat quietly in the drawing room of the Langley Park house. The heavy full-length beige curtains were drawn across the windows, keeping the cold at bay. Her husband sat at his desk shuffling through some paperwork. The only other sounds that echoed through the room were the monotonous tick of the mantle clock, and the crackling and occasional hiss from the open fire. Matilda held her hands tightly together as she waited for her husband to finish what he was doing. She loved her husband dearly, but now her love was being tested. They had been married in England after a proper courtship and when Arthur’s father had passed away he had inherited all his father’s wealth and property.
It was then that Arthur Robert Langley decided to sell up his lands and move to Tasmania. There was an opportunity beckoning he had said, a new land, with adventure and a promise of huge fortunes to be made. So they left England with their two small children, Robert and Lillian. It was a Spartan existence in those first few years as it took them some time to find a property, and then build a house befitting their station. Within five years Arthur had built up a formidable flock of sheep, and the returns from the wool made him a handsome profit, along with some wise investments in this new land. The home had been a happy place for many years, but she now felt as if the house and her life were crumbling down around her.
Arthur Langley pushed his paperwork aside, he had been hoping his wife would tire of waiting and go to bed so he would not have to face her nagging. He slipped the papers into the drawer in his desk, picked up his pipe, relit it, and sat back in the big green-velvet covered chair and took a deep draw on his pipe, exhaled the smoke into the air and then waited for his wife to begin.
“What are you going to do about Lillian?”
“There is nothing I can do, she has chosen her path.”
“She is all I have, Arthur, I don’t think I can live without her.”
“Don’t be so damn stupid woman.”
“It’s all right for you, you have Robert.”
Yes, I have Robert, thought Arthur as he puffed on the pipe some more. He was a lazy good for nothing son. Robert spent more time frequenting the bawdy houses of Hobart rather than working on the farm.
“It’s your fault anyway,” said Arthur rather callously, as he stuffed some more tobacco into his pipe.
The instant reflection of anguish on Matilda’s pale face showed the stress she was under. Her husband had never spoken to her like this before. It was as if he was punishing her for Lillian’s wrong doings. Lillian was a strong and a beautiful young woman with a mind of her own and a free spirit that was just begging to be let loose. She never bowed to her father’s wishes or his dictatorial manner. She was extremely intelligent, well educated, and could have run the farm and the business with ease. She knew that her son, Robert, was a waster and would probably squander all that they had done here.
It had all began some months ago when they were staying in the house in Hobart. Lillian had met a young sea captain at a ball. She had become infatuated with him, and threw all her normal cautions to the wind. Arthur had insisted that she stay away from the young man and made a point of telling her in no uncertain terms. She was not to see the young captain again as he wasn’t the right man for her. This had infuriated Lillian, who at twenty one years of age, considered herself mature enough to choose her own men. So it was inevitable that she began sneaking off to see him, and the specter of lust had taken its course. Lillian had become pregnant.
She told her mother, who in turn had to tell Arthur. He immediately berated Matilda for allowing such a thing to happen. They returned to their property, Langley Park at Cockle Creek, taking Lillian with them, away from the city and her lover. When they arrived home Arthur dispatched Robert and the burly Irish foreman to Hobart to find the sea captain and to see to it that he never bothered Lillian again. Robert had taken great delight in the task.
Matilda had pleaded with Lillian to accept the situation, forget the sea captain, have the baby, and then adopt it out. Yesterday morning, Lillian had packed her bags and made her way to the Cockle Creek stage depot and had boarded the stage that would take her back to Hobart. Arthur had done nothing to stop her.
“Please, Arthur, in all our years of marriage I have never asked you for anything. If you won’t send anyone after her, then let me go.”
“I will not have you speak of her ever again. She does not belong to this family anymore.”
“Arthur, she is your daughter, our daughter. We can’t turn our backs on her now, she needs us,” pleaded Matilda.
“Lillian made it quite clear when she left that she didn’t need us.”
“She was angry, I’m sure deep down she still loves us.”
Arthur took a final puff on his pipe. “I’m going to bed.”
Matilda wasn’t sure how long she sat there alone, pining for her daughter. But the fire had almost gone out and the candle needed replacing. Eventually, she made her way to the spare bedroom in the west wing. She hadn’t slept with her husband since Lillian had left. She had moved all her personal items into the bedroom. Wearily, and with a heavy heart, Matilda climbed the stairs and went into the bedroom and locked the door, not wishing to be disturbed. Peering into the mirror beside the bed she saw the red eyes from the tears she had shed. She removed the green bonnet she was wearing and let her long brown hair fall around her shoulders. Then, she removed her clothes and put on the thick red dressing gown that was hanging in the cupboard. Picking up the gold hair brush she began to slowly brush her hair as she stared at herself in the mirror. Was this to be the end of her life as she knew it? To lose her daughter and the love for the man she had married so long ago.