An Heiress at Heart (9 page)

“We never received such a letter,” Geoffrey said.

She frowned. “I know that now. The letters must have gotten lost, or were never posted.”

“You didn’t post them yourself?”

“No. We were rushing to board the ship, and had no time. Edward gave the packet of letters to a man on the docks—a sailor from another ship, I think it was. He seemed to me a rather disreputable-looking fellow, but Edward gave him the letters and the money, and he said he would post the letters for us. For all we know, he may well have discarded the letters and pocketed the money for himself.”

“Once again we see Edward’s spectacular ability to make bad decisions,” Geoffrey said. “Was that the only time you wrote to us?”

“Yes. We were stunned not to hear from you. We had left instructions where to reach us in Sydney. I suggested to Edward that maybe something had happened to the letters. I felt we should write again, but Edward was too proud. He said we would wait until we were properly established. He knew his family thought him incapable of succeeding on his own, and he wanted to prove them wrong.”

“But, Ria, how on earth did you end up in Australia?” James asked. “You must tell us every detail.”

“Of course.” She took a deep breath. “Edward and I eloped to Scotland, as you all surmised, even without our letter.”

James smirked. “Married by the blacksmith at Gretna Green, were you?”

“That is a vulgar expression,” Lady Thornborough said archly. “James, you will mind your manners today, if only for one hour.”

“I beg your pardon, Aunt,” James said, although his eyes were still filled with mirth. “However, I believe a touch of levity can sometimes aid in the discussion of difficult subjects.”

As if to prove his point, Ria laughed softly. “It’s all right.” She gave James an adoring look that, for some reason, Geoffrey found disconcerting. “In Scotland, of course, it would have been legal even if the blacksmith
had
done it. However, we were married properly—in the church, by special license.” She looked pointedly at Geoffrey as she said those words.

“That is a comfort,” Lady Thornborough said.

“Please continue,” Geoffrey said, anxious to get to the meat of her story. “We thought we had traced you as far as Edinburgh.”

Ria nodded. “We had originally planned to go to Liverpool and take a ship to America. But we met a man who convinced Edward he could find better opportunities in Australia. So we left Edinburgh on a ship bound for Plymouth. From there we boarded a ship to Australia.”

James leaned forward. “Did you plan to take the
Sea Venture
from Liverpool? That ship sank and all aboard were lost. When we never heard from you, we began to fear you had been aboard. Your names were not on the ship’s manifest, but we thought you might have used an alias.”

“I’m glad we were not on that unlucky vessel,” Ria said with a shiver. “We might have been, if we’d kept to our original plan.” Again she looked pointedly at Geoffrey. “I suppose Edward made the
correct
decision in that instance.”

Geoffrey would not respond to the goad. He would keep on the offensive. “I’m guessing it is true, however, that you were not using your real names.”

“That is true. We were, in fact, traveling under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Smythe.”

“Smythe?” James smirked. “How original!” But upon receiving a cold frown from Lady Thornborough, he said no more.

“It served our purpose,” Ria said. “When we arrived in Australia, we met a man by the name of Mr. McCrae. He owned a large sheep farm in New South Wales, just beyond the Blue Mountains. He immediately offered Edward a position. They are so very short of free workers there.”

“I’m sure they are,” James said. “As I understand it, most of the men over there are convicts. Or ex-convicts. The
taint
and the
stain
.”

Lady Thornborough sniffed. “To think that the granddaughter of a knight and the son of a baron should take it into their heads to form associations with the criminal classes.”

Geoffrey bristled. Years of working with the lower classes had taught him they were not “criminal” by nature. Many a good man was forced into disreputable acts owing to the grinding forces of poverty and the willful blindness of those more fortunate.

“Are you telling me you did manual labor on a
farm?” James said, incredulous. “How on earth did you survive?”

“It was difficult at first,” Ria acknowledged. “Perhaps more for me than for Edward. He really threw himself into it.” With a frosty look at Geoffrey, she added, “He was determined to succeed.”

“No one ever accused Edward of lacking in determination,” Geoffrey said. His brother was not lazy by nature, but he had been brought up in such ease and luxury that Geoffrey still had a hard time imagining him at work on a sheep farm.

“Eddie soon became one of Mr. McCrae’s most trusted hands. He frequently traveled the road over the mountains, taking wool to Sydney and bringing back supplies. It was an important job.” She paused. Her eyes closed briefly, her face pinched with pain. “It was dangerous, too. On one of the trips, they were met about halfway through the mountains by bushrangers. In England we would call them—”

“Highway robbers,” James finished for her.

Ria nodded.

“Edward was attacked by bushrangers?” Geoffrey asked. He had imagined Edward’s death might be due to accident or illness, but Ria’s tale was tending in a much different direction.

“Three of them.” She took a shaky breath. “And that was Edward’s last trip across the Blue Mountains.”

*

For a moment, nobody breathed. The silence in the room was palpable. It seemed even to overpower the bustling street sounds wafting through the open windows.

Geoffrey was watching her so closely that Lizzie thought he might bore a hole right through her. “Are you telling us Edward was
murdered
?”

“I do not believe they intended to commit murder. They would have taken the money and gone, leaving the men tied up, to be found by other travelers on the road. But they didn’t plan on the way Eddie and Tom would fight back. They—”

“Wait a minute,” James broke in. “Who is Tom?”

“Tom was another of the ranch hands.” She did not add,
Tom was Edward’s best friend.
The friendship the four of them had shared was closer than many families. It was precious, and for her own sake, Lizzie wished to speak of it as little as possible. “The bushrangers thought they had an easy mark. They were all on horseback, and Eddie and Tom were driving a bullock dray.”

Perplexed, Lady Thornborough said, “I beg your pardon?”

“A bullock dray is a very slow-moving oxcart,” Lizzie explained. “There was no way they could outrun the men on horses. However, Eddie and Tom were not willing to be parted from their money and their goods so easily. Shots were fired, and there was much confusion. At the end of it, Edward was…”

“Dead,” Geoffrey supplied, his voice flat.

Lizzie shook her head. “Not dead. But he was grievously wounded.”

She did not need to draw them a picture. She knew they could well imagine Edward bleeding on the dry ground. Geoffrey’s face contorted, as though he felt his brother’s suffering.

No one spoke. Lady Thornborough put one hand to
her heart and held a scented handkerchief to her face with the other. The clock ticked loudly in the silence.

“Go on,” James encouraged gently. “What happened next?”

“When he saw that two of his fellows were dead, the third bushranger got on his horse and raced away.”

“Edward and this man Tom killed two bushrangers?” James’s voice was filled with admiration. “Incredible.”

Geoffrey’s hands clenched. “What happened to Tom?”

“He was injured, too, but he managed to get Edward onto one of the horses, and rode to the farm as quickly as he could. Eddie was in a bad state. He was bleeding profusely from his left side. Tom had been hit in the thigh and nearly fainted along the way from loss of blood. But he was determined to bring Eddie back.”

“Why did Tom take him to the farm?” Geoffrey asked. His voice was sharp, holding an edge of accusation. “Surely it would have been better to go to town for medical help?”

“That was what Tom wanted to do. But Edward insisted on going home.”

“The fool!” Geoffrey stood and began pacing the room. “He may have brought about his own demise.” He glared at Lizzie. “What kind of man is this Tom? Why didn’t he insist on the proper course of action?”

Lizzie glared back. “I believe he did the right thing.”

Geoffrey made a scoffing noise and continued pacing.

“There was a man on the farm who had medical skill,” Lizzie said, her voice defensive. “He tended to their wounds admirably. But he confirmed what Edward and Tom already knew—that it was futile. No town
doctor could have saved him.” Lizzie wanted to make Geoffrey understand what an honorable man his brother was. “Edward’s greatest desire was to get home so he could say good-bye. There was never a man so devoted to his wife.” Tears stung her eyes.

“Yes, we can see you loved him, dear,” Lady Thornborough said, patting her arm gently.

Geoffrey halted his pacing. “We
all
loved him,” he said. “The fact remains that if you had not taken Edward away from England, he might still be alive today.”

Lizzie had known there would be a possibility of this accusation, but that did not lessen the sting when it came. She stood up. “Tell me,
Lord Somerville
,” she said, placing wry emphasis on his title, “how does it follow that Edward would be alive today if he were here? William never left England. I suppose he had the best doctors money could buy. But he, too, is dead.” She stopped, gasping for breath. She was unused to heavy corsets, and finding air was difficult.

“Ria, you must sit down,” Lady Thornborough ordered. “You will make yourself ill again.”

But Lizzie would not sit down. She advanced toward Geoffrey. “Edward was determined to go to Australia. He knew the hard work it would entail—and the risks. He believed it was the way to build a new life. How many men would face any obstacle, and go to the ends of the earth for love?”

“I certainly have never flung myself off the map for someone else,” James interjected. “It sounds terribly uncomfortable.”

“The ends of the earth,” Geoffrey repeated with scorn. “For love. What foolishness.”

At this moment, the memory of Ria and Edward was so vivid that Lizzie could practically see them in the room. How many times had she observed them with their heads bent together, speaking low, smiling and whispering words only for themselves? They had a love few people find in a lifetime, and Lizzie would defend their actions with all her might. “How many people can truly say they are happy? How many women can say they are married to the man they love, desperately and passionately, and that her husband
worships
her?” She used the word deliberately, and was perversely glad to see Geoffrey scowl in response. “It’s all very well for you to pronounce judgments. You were not there. You were here in England with your books. What do you know about true love?”

Geoffrey reached out and gripped her shoulders so tightly that she was forced to bite back a cry of pain. “I can see you know all about my life,” he said caustically. “You also claim to know about
duty
. Well, let me tell you something about that. If a man truly understands his duty, he will not neglect it for something so fleeting as romantic love.”

“Lord Somerville,” Lady Thornborough remonstrated. “You are hurting her.”

Geoffrey released his hold, but Lizzie’s arms continued to burn from his touch. She reached up instinctively to rub the spot where his hands had been.

“I apologize for hurting you,” he said. “I do not apologize for what I said.”

“Nor do I,” Lizzie shot back defiantly. She had wanted this meeting to go well, to show Geoffrey he could be proud of his brother, to find some way to reconcile him to
what had happened. But she could see there was no point in further discussion.

His judgmental comments about Tom angered her, too, and made her decide that there was one more thing she would not tell him.

She would not tell him that her own brother was dead because he had gone after Edward’s murderer.

                                                          
Chapter 9

F
or the second time in as many weeks Geoffrey found himself marching away from the Thornborough home, his thoughts a bundle of agitation about Ria. He was overwhelmed with an urgent need to escape, to find a quiet place to sort out his tangled thoughts.

He had left as soon as propriety would allow, after assuring Lady Thornborough that, yes, he would return again. But truly, there had been nothing more to say. His brother was dead, and Ria, though heartbroken, was unrepentant. Her years in Australia had taught her nothing.

Sorrow and shock buffeted him, as did the gut-wrenching knowledge that his brothers were gone from him forever. He had no other family now. His last, tenuous connection to his long-lost brother was this woman to whom he was legally bound as a sister, and yet how could he bring himself to forgive her for all she had done?