Daring Masquerade (14 page)

"If he could only get rid of this obsession he has about Virginia," he went on. "He could be happy. She wasn't the woman for him. Too selfish and vindictive. I suppose you could even say cold blooded. Many a man's been blinded by a woman's outward beauty and lived to regret it. Ross was so besotted he couldn't see what lay below the surface. She would have ruined this place, him as well, before she was through. You're a good girl, and a gutsy one, you'll be good for him and Devil's Ridge."

"He'll never really love me," she said wistfully. "I'm not beautiful, but if I gave him a son, he would have some fondness for me. Wouldn't he?"

She couldn't hide the note of pleading in her voice.

"Things will turn out for you, my dear, I'm sure of it."

But would they? Jack didn't sound too certain, and he knew his nephew better than any-one.

She glanced up to see Ross and an elderly, birdlike woman enter the room.

"This is Mrs. Bates, the best cook in the country." He rested his hand on the old lady's shoulder.

"Stuff and nonsense," she protested, still managing to sound pleased with the compliment.

"Hello, I'm Harry." She jumped to her feet. "The men have been telling me how you keep the place going for them."

"Mr. Ross has just finished telling me about you too, Miss Harry. Sorry about your brother."

"Thank you." Harry's eyes filled with tears but she willed them not to fall. "His spirit can wander free now. The war can't hurt him anymore."

"It's a tragedy, all those fine boys lost."

"What about that cup of tea, Irma?" Jack interrupted. "And some of your shortbread, if Ross hasn't scoffed them all."

"Could I help you, Mrs. Bates?"

"No dear, you stay with the men."

"Off you women go," Ross said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Jack and I have some business to discuss."

As soon as they left the room, Ross dropped into an armchair.

"I need you to keep an eye on the place for a couple of days. I have to take Harry to her aunt's place in Benalla to get written consent for our marriage."

"What's the rush? A few days here and there won't make much difference."

"I flipped through my mail, there's a letter from the army telling me to front a Medical Board in three weeks time. If they pass me fit, no reason to think they won't, I could be on my way to France almost straight away. We need to be married before then." He dragged his fingers through his hair. "In case my impetuous behavior results in any unfortunate consequences for her. I can't believe I acted so bloody stupid."

"You'd be a bloody fool if you didn't marry her, untoward consequences or not."

* * *

Harry surveyed the kitchen with interest. A stove and bread oven took up the whole of one wall. A pine dresser held dainty white crockery edged with gold.

Mrs. Bates watched her scrutiny with undisguised interest, and Harry wondered exactly what Ross had told the old lady.

"I've lived here for over fifty years," she volunteered. "

"Yes, Ross told me how close you were to all of them. Mrs. Bates, I hope we can be friends, too. After we get married, I'll need your help. I don't have much experience with this kind of thing."
I don't have much experience of anything.
She swallowed down on a sudden surge of panic.

"You're better than the other one," Mrs. Bates sniffed. "Wanted me pensioned off." The old lady's lips trembled.

"That mean, vicious bitch didn't deserve him." Harry ignored Mrs. Bates' shocked intake of breath. "Call me Harry."

As they chatted, the housekeeper put the kettle on to boil. A white pinafore covered her long black skirt and she wore her gray hair twisted up in a tight bun. Her fingers were gnarled and knotted with arthritis. Sharp brown eyes took in everything about Harry's appearance, showing neither approval nor disapproval. She flapped around like a busy little sparrow.

"There's a walk-in pantry over here."

Harry watched her disappearing through a pair of glass topped doors. She returned within seconds with a biscuit tin and a bowl of sugar.

"You can bring the tea trolley over," she instructed.

Harry wheeled the trolley over to the table, and without being asked to, selected cups and saucers from the dresser.

"There's good china packed away for special occasions, Miss Harry."

She didn't know whether to be insulted or not because they used the everyday set, but she lifted the boiling kettle off the stove and filled up the teapot without saying anything.

"Mr. Ross has always loved my shortbread."

Harry watched the trembling hands arrange biscuits on a heart-shaped plate. Pitiful. That bitch Virginia had wanted to get rid of the poor old soul.

"Perhaps you could give me the recipe." Seeing Mrs. Bates purse her lips, she rushed on. "I'd never be able to make them as well as you, but if you could just give me a few tips they would at least be edible."

"I do have a book with all the boss' favorite recipes written in it. I could loan it to you," the housekeeper offered with a smile.

"Would you? Thanks. I want to be a good wife, but I'll need your help, Mrs. Bates. You know all his likes and dislikes."

"Nothing I don't know about Mr. Ross, poor Mr. Eric, too." A tear trickled down the old lady’s wrinkled cheek. "A naughty little scallywag was Mr. Eric." She blew her nose on a lace-edged handkerchief. "Mr. Ross was always quiet and serious. Chalk and cheese the two of them were."

Harry pushed the trolley out of the kitchen and down the hallway. At the sitting room door she moved to one side so the housekeeper could wheel it in to the men.

"Well, you two took your time. Mrs. Bates telling you about the dark secrets of my past?" Ross grinned.

"No, she showed me the pantry and explained a few things."

"You behaved well most of the time except when you lost your temper, but Mr. Eric was a little devil." Mrs. Bates looked at Ross with obvious affection.

"Yeah, a real cheeky little bugger," Jack said with a chuckle. "Pour the tea, Irma. Ross and Harry are off to Benalla to see her aunt as soon as they have a drink."

"There's no real rush," Harry said.

"We don't have any time to lose. I'm fronting the Army Medical board in three weeks time."

Harry made her way over to perch on the arm of Ross' chair, and rested her hand on his shoulder. "So soon," she whispered tremulously.

"Afraid so. Drink up and we'll get ready to go. Mrs. Bates can show you around the place when we get back."

"I'll make up a guest bedroom for you, Miss Harry. Where's your luggage?"

"I don't have any, except my bed roll." Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. "It's out on the verandah."

A swag with a change of clothes, blanket and ground sheet. How pitiful having so little to show for nineteen years on the earth. A canvas bag she'd accidentally left at the mountain hut, contained personal papers, the family bible and a few things belonging to Gil.

"Ross can take you into town and buy you anything you need." Jack chuckled. "I'd like to see you in a dress, young Harry."

"Yes, I forgot about that." Ross nibbled his lower lip. "You'll need a complete wardrobe of clothes."

"A dress to get married in will do."

"My wife will not run around in men's clothing."

He sounded so arrogant feared surged through her. She knew so little about this man who would soon be her husband. His friends would certainly think she wasn't good enough for him.

"I like wearing trousers. They're easier to get around in." She hoped to justify her attire.

"After we're married, I'll expect you to act with decorum. I have a position to maintain around here."

"You snob. You don't think I'm good enough, do you?" She leapt off the chair and faced him, trembling with indignant rage. "Don't feel obliged to marry me."

"Finish your tea," he snapped.

She picked up her cup and gulped the contents down. "I've finished. You don't really want to marry me, do you?"

He did not answer, but his lips tightened.

Like a dog with a bone she wouldn't let go, couldn't stop herself from trying to get a response. "Be honest. Do you?"

"All right. I bloody well don't. But I've got no choice, have I?"

"Miss Harry—Mr. Ross, what on earth is going on?"

"Ross is worried he might have given me a baby." She instantly wished she could take the words back, cram them down her throat and swallow them, but it was too late.

 
Mrs. Bates' face turned white, her hands fluttered at her chest and she looked ready to collapse.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bates." Ross leapt to his feet.

As he led the old lady over to the couch, he savaged Harry with one glance.

Harry poured out a cup of tea and took it over to her. She put the cup in the housekeeper's hand and knelt down in front of the old lady. "My behavior was dreadful. My temper got the best of me," she apologized, full of remorse. "I don't know what came over me. I really am sorry."

"It's all right, dear. I'm not used to modern young women, I suppose. In my day a woman never answered a man back. Off you go, Mr. Ross. Get prepared for your trip. I'm a silly old woman letting myself get upset over a trifle."

"Yeah, come on, Ross," Jack said.

"Are you sure, Mrs. Bates? We could wait a day or so."

"Go along with you. Jack will be around to keep an eye on me."

"Of course I will, Irma."

When the two men left the room, Harry apologized again. "I really am sorry for the way I acted." She patted the old housekeeper's hand. "I love Ross, but he doesn't love me. He lost his head last night and now he's worried I might have a baby. That's the only reason he offered marriage. I goaded him on purpose. I suppose I wanted him to say he felt more for me than just an obligation to do the right thing. Of course, deep down I knew he wouldn't." She took a deep shuddering breath. "It was stupid thinking he might. Sometimes I think he actually hates me."

"Now, dear, that's not the way of it, I'm sure." The housekeeper patted her head. "Men are strange creatures. Give him time, he'll come around eventually."

"That's what Jack said, but Mrs. Bates, we have so little time. I love Ross," she went on passionately. "I love Devil's Ridge. I want to give him a baby, but I'm scared. If Virginia asked him to go back to her, I know he would."

"Once you were married he wouldn't. He is a man of integrity who wouldn't do the wrong thing by his wife. Marry him as quickly as you can. You won't be sorry and nor will he. A pretty little thing like you could easily make him forget that other stuck up miss. She caused him nothing but heartache. I'm glad you're going to marry him. You're the kind of wife he needs."

"Really?" Harry squeaked in surprise.

"Yes. You've got pluck and can fire him up. He's always been a serious, deep thinker. Mind you, he's got a nasty temper when roused. Mr. Eric, the little devil, used to continually goad him until he exploded so Mr. Ross would get into trouble from their parents. They were close, though, the pair of them."

Mrs. Bates obviously remembered their childhood with fondness.

"Mr. Ross, being six years older, always looked out for his little brother. That's why he took it so bad when he got killed. You know something? He would have gladly changed places if it could have saved him. That's the type of man he is. You be a good wife to him, Miss Harry. Have patience, and one day he'll make you a fine, caring husband. You'll never regret your decision to marry him."

Harry's eyes filled with emotional tears. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes, and I know him better than he knows himself. I brought him into this world—Mr. Eric, too. Their mother refused to let anyone else deliver them but me. Help me out of this chair. Get going as quickly as you can, get the consent form and marry him. You'll never regret it."

"You're biased." She threw her arms around the housekeeper's neck and kissed her cheek. "You're right, he is a good man."

Outside, the two men waited with the horses. Ross ignored her but favored Mrs. Bates with one of his rare, devastating smiles.

"We'll be back tomorrow evening. Jack will look after everything."

As she mounted, Harry noticed her bedroll neatly tied to her saddle. She turned her head and waved as they set off. "See you when we get back, Mrs. Bates, Jack."

Chapter Eight

They rode in silence until they left Devil's Ridge, proceeding along a winding trail leading into the hills.

"There's a short cut through here," he said. "It's rough but will take nearly fifteen miles off our journey. Stick close to me."

They plunged straight into the bush, which grew so densely on the overgrown, barely discernible path, the branches scraped against her leg.

"Used to be an old logging track, goes all the way to Greta. Legend has it Ned Kelly and his gang used it when they were on the run from the police."

"I'm sorry about upsetting Mrs. Bates. I don't know what came over me."

"I do. You wanted to score off me. That runaway tongue of yours will get you into serious trouble one day."

"All right. I've apologized."

They did not speak again. The sounds of snapping branches springing back as they passed by, and the cawing of magpies penetrated the brooding bush. Mile after mile they traversed country devoid of humanity except them. Occasionally, she spotted a ruin, overgrown with blackberries and vines, or a pile of stones that had once been some pioneer family's chimney.

"There's a stream up here a bit." He broke the silence. "We'll rest the horses and have a mug of tea."

"I don't know whether I can find Auntie Bertha's place in the dark," she said, trying not to sound too worried.

"We'll camp out tonight and see her first thing in the morning. I've brought along a few supplies and I can easily bag us a rabbit or fish for supper later on."

By the time he found a clearing near a babbling stream she was choking for a drink and every bone in her body ached. She searched for firewood while he saw to the needs of their horses. With the fire lit and burning brightly, she wandered down to the fast flowing stream to fill the billycan. Scooping up handfuls of crystal clear water, she enjoyed the sheer bliss of it trickling down her parched throat. In some places, pink dog roses scrambled madly over the banks, in other parts the blackberries grew so thick they hid the water.