Beyond the Sunset (12 page)

‘Well, I’m enjoying living here more than in Lancashire, on the whole. I do enjoy the warmer climate. I’ve got you, some good horses, a place to ride, a veranda where I can sit and watch the sunsets. It’s not a bad way to go.’

‘That’s why you’ve been avoiding kissing me.’

‘Yes. Some people think it can be passed from one person to another. I ought to sleep on my own as well.’

‘No. I love sleeping together.’

‘I wake in the night sweating and uncomfortable.’ He put one finger on her lips. ‘No arguing. I shall be more comfortable sleeping on my own in the enclosed veranda.’

It required a huge effort to smile at him and nod, but she managed it.

As they rode back up the final stretch to their own land, she said abruptly, ‘We’d better tell Reece.’

‘I don’t want to tell anyone else.’

‘I’ve seen him looking at you, thinking you’re lazy. He needs to know what’s wrong so that he won’t ask too much of you.’

‘If he knows, Cassandra will, and Pandora too. They’ll watch me, stare.’

‘Let them. If you don’t tell Reece, I will.’

He gave her one of his wry smiles. ‘You’re bullying me.’

She nodded, finding the courage to return his smile steadily, when all she wanted to do was weep.

‘You tell them, then.’ He helped her to remount, pulled himself up on his own horse and let it walk along the track at its own speed. They didn’t speak much for the rest of the ride.

That afternoon Livia said she didn’t want afternoon tea serving in the fancy cups. ‘Francis feels tired. He’s going to lie down. I’ll have a cup with you today.’

Reece and Cassandra exchanged surprised glances.

‘Something’s wrong,’ he murmured to his wife as he emptied the dregs from the big teapot over the garden, then took it across to the stove for her to make another brew. ‘I wonder what it is.’

‘Maybe they’ve changed their minds about staying here. Mr Southerham still isn’t looking well.’

When Livia joined the three of them at the table, she accepted her mug of tea and said abruptly, ‘I have something to tell you. It’s . . . important.’

After she’d finished explaining, Reece spoke for the other two. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs Southerham. I must admit I’ve wondered. I can’t help noticing how quickly Mr Southerham tires now and how much thinner he’s become.’

‘We’ll help you in any way we can,’ Cassandra said gently.

Livia nodded, her words coming out muffled with suppressed anguish. ‘Thank you.’ She got up, leaving her mug of tea untouched and went back into the shack.

Reece sighed. ‘They should have told us sooner. I had a friend whose daughter died of consumption. The doctor was a forward-thinking man and told him a few precautions to take. From now on, we’re not sharing the same dishes and cups they use.’

‘We don’t use the same things most of the time anyway,’ Pandora said thoughtfully. ‘They have their fancy china, while we use the cheaper things. It’s just the tin mugs.’

‘We’ll mark theirs,’ Reece said. ‘It’s Livia I’m sorry for. How will she manage after he dies? A woman can’t do the heavy work on a farm, not that he does much of it but he does look after the horses.’

‘She’ll sell Westview. She’ll have to.’

‘And go where? She hasn’t got any friends in the colony.’

‘Maybe she’ll go back to England,’ Pandora said.

‘Her father died. She has no other close family.’ Cassandra sighed. ‘Life is hard for a woman on her own.’

He stood up. ‘We’ll help them in any way we can, but it means I can’t stop working for them, even if I want to, because he’ll only grow weaker. I can’t leave them in the lurch. That’ll delay our own plans.’

‘He and Kevin are both failing. Who’ll be the third one?’ Pandora wondered.

‘It’s a foolish superstition that deaths come in threes,’ he said sternly. ‘I don’t like to hear people say it. It’s as if they’re wishing for someone to die. I’m going back to work now.’

No one had wondered what would happen to her if the Southerhams sold Westview, she thought as she rinsed out the mugs, then got angry with herself for being so selfish. Francis was dying. She wasn’t. And she had her sisters. They’d never let her want.

Hallie dreaded Friday all the following week, because she’d have to deal with Harry Prebble somehow.

She couldn’t eat her tea, felt so nauseous after forcing something down that she had to go out to the privy and be sick.

When she got back to the kitchen she saw an envelope on the table.

‘Harry Prebble called with Zachary’s wages. He’s such a nice young man, isn’t he? Asked after you particularly.’

Hallie didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry that she’d missed him. It had been accidental, but he’d blame her, she was sure. She’d make certain her mother didn’t get knocked over next week.

But he’d think of some other way of getting at her, she was sure. She couldn’t get the memory of his expression out of her mind. He’d enjoyed taunting her, threatening her.

Zachary sat on deck chatting to one of the other cabin passengers. He was amused that the man had sought his company, because at first on the voyage, the first class passengers had looked down their noses at those in the second-class cabins. But there were so few ordinary travellers in the ship, which was carrying mainly convicts and their warders, that boredom had set in for most people now. This had led to conversations that crossed all boundaries except those set around the convicts, who were closely watched and kept separate most of the time.

He felt sorry for them, would hate to have his whole life ordered by someone else. And few of the convicts looked really wicked, but rather as if they’d had hard lives and were struggling to survive. One or two looked so ill that the slightest breeze might carry them off.

‘So you’ve already read that book?’ the man commented, sounding surprised.

‘Yes. I used to read a lot back home. The free libraries have been a boon to thinking folk. I could never have afforded to buy so many books. My sister’s the same, can’t get enough to read.’

Leo came bounding up, looking happy. ‘The hens are laying better now,’ he announced.

The man beside Zachary turned up his nose and stirred in his seat as if thinking of leaving. A spirit of mischief made Zachary say, ‘You’ll be very glad of Leo’s work when we’re eating fresh eggs again, Mr Howish. Without him, those birds would have died. He’s very clever with animals of all sorts.’

The man smiled reluctantly. ‘I take your point. We all need one another here on the ship, don’t we?’

Later that day Zachary went to read to a group of young children, with Leo trailing behind him. The charitable lady who’d been reading to them had grown tired of it and he’d not liked to see them disappointed. He found to his surprise that he had a talent for reading aloud, could keep them enthralled for an hour without any trouble. They were mostly the children of the prison guards who were travelling out to Australia with the convicts, but two were the children of cabin passengers. At least children didn’t set invisible barriers between people saying one was fit to chat to and another wasn’t.

The only convicts who had some leeway were those involved in producing the ship’s weekly newspaper, making copies of the handwritten articles by various passengers. Most of the articles were on rather boring topics, such as ‘The Pursuit of Knowledge’ or ‘Ancient and Modern Navigation’ written in flowery, stilted language. He’d chuckled aloud at one, which addressed the reader as ‘gentle reader’. He couldn’t be bothered reading such articles, but had persevered with the ‘Weekly Record’ of their journey and the ‘West Australian Sketches’ which gave information about the colony. He made note of anything which might help him find his way about.

He was filling the time on board ship well enough, though he’d rather have had something more engrossing to occupy his mind, but he always had a sense of waiting and marking time. He kept wondering what the Blake sisters were doing, hoping he’d carry out his task well and get them safely back to England. His other main consideration was what he would do afterwards. The more he was away from Harry and the shop, the more certain he was that he couldn’t work under the other man again. He’d learned to fly free, didn’t want to go back into a cage.

Surely Mr Featherworth would help him find another job?

Or perhaps . . . perhaps Harry wouldn’t get the job as manager. No, Harry wasn’t stupid. He’d manage the shop very carefully, make people think he was the best person to do it, even though he wasn’t.

Zachary didn’t rate his own chances of becoming manager very highly.

7

B
efore Pandora could raise the question of riding lessons, to her surprise Francis did. ‘Are you still interested in learning to ride?’

‘I’d love to.’

‘Then I’ll start teaching you. When I’m too weak to ride, you’ll be able to go out with Livia.’

‘When can we start?’

‘Tomorrow morning. It’s better not to ride in the heat of the day, for the horses’ sake.’

Always with him the horses came first, she thought. What about her comfort? But the idea of learning something new made her bite back the words.

So instead of preparing breakfast, she found herself being taught about saddles and tack, shown how to approach a horse and how to offer it a sugar lump on a flat palm. She wasn’t at all afraid of Duke, because Francis’s horses were well trained and selected for their good temperaments. She’d often heard him say that.

When she was up on the horse for the first time, she felt nervous, because it seemed much higher than she’d expected, but Francis led Duke up and down, speaking to Pandora as gently as he spoke to his animals when he corrected her posture.

She was disappointed when he told her to get down.

He smiled. ‘You did well. We’ll make a horsewoman of you yet. But that’s enough for one day. I’d like to go for a short ride myself now. Livia? Are you ready, my dear?’

His wife, who’d been watching from the veranda, came across and untied her horse, which had been waiting patiently in the shade of a tree.

As the two of them rode off along the track, Cassandra came up to her sister. ‘Did you enjoy that?’

‘Yes, I did. It’s very exhilarating being up on a horse’s back.’

‘So not everything is bad here.’

Pandora gave her a mock shove. ‘You know I like some things. It’s just the thought of staying here for ever, never seeing Outham again that upsets me, and sometimes a longing for the moors and Lancashire rain sweeps over me. I can’t help that.’ It was getting a little better though. Most of the time.

‘I know, love. But you know what our aunt is like. She might even have us killed if we went back. Never forget how she had me kidnapped, and without anyone finding out what she’d done. Now, let’s go and give their house a quick sweep out and tidy while they’re away.’

Alice woke with a start. The full moon was shining directly on her window and in spite of the curtains, which didn’t quite fit at the edges, she could see everything clearly. Something must have woken her, because she normally slept soundly, rarely stirring till morning.

Then she heard a sound outside on the landing and to her horror she saw the door handle turn, its faceted glass surface reflecting the moonlight so that there was no doubt it really was moving.

Someone was out there!

The door rattled, as if the person was trying to open it, but she’d shot the bolt, as she did every night. Slipping out of bed, she padded silently to the door, her eyes searching for a weapon to defend herself with if the intruder broke down the door.

It rattled even more loudly and someone called in a throaty voice, ‘Are you awake, Alice Blair? Are you nervous? You ought to be. You’re not wanted here.’

She didn’t answer.

‘You’d better leave town if you want to be safe. Leave town. Leave soon.’

The person rattled the door again then the handle stopped moving.

She didn’t hear footsteps going down the stairs, didn’t hear the outside door opening, but she went to the bedroom window, watching carefully. A few minutes later, just as she was about to go back to bed, she saw a man dressed all in black with a hat pulled down low over his face come out from the side alley and run across the street. He disappeared down an alley between the shops opposite. In spite of the bright moonlight she saw only his clothes and hat, not his face. He could have been anyone.

And what had he been doing for those few minutes?

Her heart was pounding. Did she dare leave the room, go and see what the intruder had stolen? At first she thought not, then she decided that was cowardly. She’d seen someone leaving the house, hadn’t she? It wasn’t likely that anyone else was waiting for her.

She slipped on her dressing-gown then lit her bedside candle, wishing they had gas lighting in the bedrooms, because a candle could so easily blow out. For lack of anything better she picked up the water ewer in her free hand to protect herself with and went back to the door.

Still she hesitated to open it, then told herself she must. No one was going to frighten her away from this house.

Taking a deep breath she put the candlestick down on the nearby chest of drawers and slid the bolt gently open. She opened the door a crack, ready to slam it shut again. To her relief there was enough moonlight for her to see that there was no intruder waiting for her outside.

Picking up the candle she went out on to the landing, still holding the ewer as well. After a moment or two she raised her voice. ‘Dot! Dot! Are you awake? We’ve had an intruder.’

There was an immediate patter of footsteps and Dot came down the attic stairs, a shawl round her shoulders and a poker in her hand. ‘I heard him pass my room and go down the attic stairs, miss.’

‘Do you have a bolt on your bedroom door?’

‘No, miss, but I put a chair under the handle. And I always take this to bed.’ She held out the poker in a hand that trembled.

‘Have you had intruders before?’

‘Yes, miss. Well, I think so. Only nothing was taken and Mr Prebble said it must have been my imagination. But I know I heard someone and I definitely saw a light pass my door once.’