Destiny's Path (24 page)

‘His father must have had a hand in that.’

She gaped at him. ‘Surely not?’

‘I’ve thought about it a lot. Conn was talking about getting an annulment. That’d have meant his father giving back the large dowry Kathleen’s parents paid to get her married.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I doubt we can ever be sure now because he’s taken his secret to the grave. But why else would Susannah Largan have left her husband and come all this way to be with her son? Nothing else makes sense about the whole incident.’

‘Does Conn suspect it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Poor man. He’s been treated even more badly than I realised. But even so, I worry about leaving my sister with him.’

He shrugged. ‘They’ll make their choices. Don’t we all?’

‘How much longer are you staying in Australia?’

‘Two or three months, I suppose. With my mother gone, I’m drifting a bit.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘I’ll enjoy myself less with you gone.’

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘I’ve enjoyed your teasing. I always did wish we had a brother or two.’

‘It’s not brotherly I’m feeling towards you, Xanthe Blake.’

He caught her gaze and saw her eyes widen. ‘Will you let me kiss you again? A farewell kiss.’

Mutely she raised her face towards him and he gathered her in his arms and kissed her till the world spun around. Then he realised she was pushing against his chest and he let her go.

‘There’s a vehicle approaching,’ she said, reaching up to make sure her small, neat bonnet was straight.

The vehicle proved to be what people called the mail van, but was actually a spring cart, complete with driver and guard. It was drawn by sturdy horses and carried only two or three passengers per trip at a cost of four pounds.

The guard helped load Xanthe’s luggage, then Ronan stood back and watched the cart leave, not moving till it was out of sight.

He was going to miss her greatly. She interested him more than any other woman he’d ever met. She hadn’t been raised to be a gentleman’s wife and he knew she’d feel uncomfortable and be treated with condescension if he did the unthinkable and married her. It was only now as he stood alone by the muddy track listening to the last faint sounds of horses’ hooves, cart wheels and harness rattling that he acknowledged to himself that he’d been tempted, very tempted to see if he could win her hand.

He laughed, but it wasn’t a mirthful laugh, rather mockery at himself. He talked as if he only had to crook his finger and she’d fall into his arms. He couldn’t even be sure of that. She was very firm about her desire to remain single. She wanted more than a life bearing and raising children.

Ironically, so did he.

‘Ah, it’s over now!’ he muttered and turned to the patiently waiting horse, which was munching quietly in the nosebag of oats.

The big kitchen seemed very quiet that evening. Maia hardly said a word and every now and then swiped at her eyes with the corner of her apron. Nancy’s cooking wasn’t nearly as good as Xanthe’s – or was it that Ronan had lost his appetite?

He stayed in the kitchen with Bram and the maids, instead of sitting with Conn and his mother that evening, explaining that he felt the two of them appreciated time alone together, now that time itself was running out for Susannah Largan.

Once he’d decided what to do with himself, Ronan would go back to Ireland. It was strange how difficult he was finding it to make plans, though. Perhaps it was the more relaxed lifestyle here, or he was still sad about his mother, or he was missing Xanthe. His thoughts and emotions had been in a tangle ever since he watched the big mail cart take her south towards Albany.

He hoped she’d be safe.

In the end he went to bed early, claiming he was tired. But he didn’t find it easy to sleep, and the book Conn had lent him wasn’t in the least bit interesting.

When rain began to beat heavily against the window panes, his first thought was that he hoped she was safe and dry somewhere.

Xanthe was safe indoors but she wasn’t comfortable. She and the other passengers were lying on scratchy straw mattresses in a common lodging room at one of the staging posts. They’d been warned that they’d be expected to rise before dawn and be on the road by first light.

It seemed strange to be on her own, and it was more frightening than she’d expected. The man driving the cart kept looking at her in a way she detested. Thank goodness there was an older woman passenger, though she too had looked at Xanthe suspiciously until she’d asked the other woman if she minded her staying close by, explaining that the driver made her feel nervous.

It took several days to get to Albany, in spite of the changes of horses waiting for them at each stop.

Xanthe had dressed in dark, serviceable clothing and tried to make herself look as plain as possible, but even so, she found men staring at her as she walked to her lodgings in Albany after confirming with the shipping agent that a cabin was indeed available to her.

The town was in a splendid location on a huge bay dotted with islands. She had forgotten how bracing the sea air was and inhaled deeply as she stopped yet again to stare at the view.

‘Are you waiting for someone?’ a voice asked.

She swung round to see a strange gentleman, rather portly and going bald, smiling at her.

‘No.’ She turned round and walked away as quickly as she could.

Everywhere she went, it seemed, there was someone to stare at her, the gentlemen with admiration and that certain look that said quite clearly what they were thinking, the ladies in disapproval, though why they should look at her like that she didn’t know.

In the end she went back to her lodgings and sat in her room, since the place was too small to have a parlour. She hadn’t expected to be bored, would have liked to explore Albany.

She grew angry at herself for being so cowardly and after an hour of fidgeting in her room, she ventured out again, armed with information from the landlady about where she might be able to purchase some books and writing materials.

This time she glared fiercely at any man who looked like accosting her and walked at a very brisk speed indeed.

When she found the shop where she hoped to buy books, she found an elderly lady standing outside it, watching her.

‘You’re a very fast walker.’

Xanthe stopped, wondering if it was all right to speak to strange ladies, but then this one had a twinkling smile and looked so friendly, she relaxed a little. ‘If I don’t walk fast, strangers try to talk to me and I don’t like that.’

‘You’re too pretty to be on your own.’

‘I can’t help how I look.’

‘You’re not a resident of the town, are you?’

‘No. I’m waiting for the mail steamer.’

‘Travelling to England?’

‘Yes.’

‘So am I.’

Another of those twinkling smiles had Xanthe smiling back involuntarily.

‘Why don’t we stroll around the town together? I’ve been here for two days and I’m very tired of my own company.’ The old lady held out her hand. ‘I’m Drusilla Pearson,
Miss
, but my friends call me Drue.’

‘Xanthe Blake.’

‘Now that’s an unusual name.’

Within half an hour the two of them were fast friends, and they boarded the ship together the next day. She was delighted with the extra comfort afforded by travelling in a cabin, even though she had to share hers with a disapproving spinster who was travelling back to England to keep house for her brother after working as a governess in Australia.

Xanthe realised almost immediately how fortunate she had been to make Miss Pearson’s acquaintance, because the other cabin class passengers at first looked down their noses at her because of the way she spoke and dressed.

There was dead silence at the table when someone asked about her family background and she told them the bald truth, scorning to pretend to be something she wasn’t.

Drue broke the silence. ‘I think you’re a very unusual young woman and your father must have been a remarkable man to be studying Greek.’

‘He was a remarkable man.’ Tears came into Xanthe’s eyes. ‘I still miss him greatly. When we read books together, he brought the ideas they contained to life for me as no one else has ever done.’

She remained very much on guard with these people. They accepted her, after a fashion, because they were all travelling together and it’d have caused more embarrassment to try to snub her. Only with Drue could she fully relax and speak unguardedly, however.

It reminded her of how comfortable she’d felt with Ronan. She missed him, wished she could stop thinking of him. He was out of her reach in so many ways.

When they reached Galle, two weeks later, Xanthe was thrilled by the warm climate and the exotic people and food, and chose to stay for a while and catch the next suitable ship. This meant saying goodbye to Drue, but she knew by now that she was merely a novelty to Drue, who was very good-natured, but not the sort of woman you’d turn to in a crisis.

It still felt strange to be without Maia, and she turned sometimes to share a thought with her sister, then tears would come into her eyes as she remembered how far away Maia was now. At night she shed tears once or twice when the loneliness got her down. But when she asked herself if she’d done the right thing in leaving the Swan River Colony and in striking out on her own, she knew she had.

With all the loneliness and apprehension about her future, there was also excitement, the joy of learning new things from the people she was travelling with, and the pleasure of looking forward to new sights and experiences.

She continued to think of Ronan, how he smiled and teased. How he grew sad sometimes about his mother. How sharp his mind was, so that it was a pleasure to discuss something with him. And how good-looking he was. None of the men she’d met since leaving Australia was at all attractive.

She wasn’t looking for a husband, but if she had been, Ronan would have been exactly the sort of man she’d have chosen. She might have chosen him, but he’d never have chosen to marry her. A gentleman born and bred looked for a woman of birth and fortune when he married.

And she wasn’t stupid enough to give herself to him outside marriage.

She worried sometimes that her sister would do that with Conn, give herself to him. There was nothing she could do about it now, though, and anyway, that would always be Maia’s own choice.

But at least Conn wouldn’t hurt Maia willingly or abandon her if the worst happened.

14

T
wo weeks after Xanthe left Galway House, a neighbour called to bring Conn some letters which had been brought to the local shop, which was also the post office for the whole district.

One of the letters was for Ronan. The envelope was crumpled, as if it had had a hard journey, and it had a black border, the sign of mourning.

‘Stop staring at it and give it to him,’ his mother said.

‘Someone’s died, by the looks of it. And on top of his mother’s death, too,’ said Conn.

‘It happened months ago and nothing you do now will change it.’

‘He’s out riding with Sean. I’ll wait till he gets back. No need to hurry with sad news.’ He looked at the letter beneath Ronan’s and sucked in his breath in shock. ‘Look, here’s one from Kieran for you.’ He passed it to her, knowing this was the first time his older brother had written, and hoping it wasn’t carrying bad news.

She held the envelope in a hand that trembled slightly. ‘I’m surprised to hear from him. Your father said when he wrote to me that no one in the family wanted to speak to me again if I didn’t return.’

‘Do you want me to read it for you?’

‘No. I can face up to my own news.’ She slit the envelope and pulled two pages out of it, reading them slowly, with the use of a magnifying glass.

Conn watched anxiously as he saw tears slide down her cheeks. He said nothing, waiting for her to tell him.

She bent her head for a moment when she came to the end of the letter, not looking at him as she spoke. ‘It seems . . . to be a season for death. Your cousin Michael had an accident while out riding. He broke his back and lingered for a few days. It seems he confessed on his deathbed to having helped your father incriminate you. I brought Michael up like my own son and even though he betrayed you, I’d not have wished him dead. So young. So very young.’

Conn took her in his arms and held her as she wept against him, then she pulled away and said in a husky voice, ‘There’s more. Michael – he asked the priest to try to right the wrong and – and there was time to bring in a lawyer to take his statement. Kieran says it’ll take a while but he has every hope of seeing you exonerated.’

Conn felt as if the ground was shaking beneath his feet and couldn’t, for a moment, catch his breath, then he gulped and clapped one hand across his mouth to prevent himself from sobbing even more loudly than she had. Men weren’t supposed to weep, and he hadn’t all through his imprisonment and ordeal, but he couldn’t hold back his emotions now, because the relief was so overwhelming. Sinking to the ground, he put his head in his mother’s lap and let out a tide of pent-up anguish, ragged sobs shaking his whole body.