To Touch the Clouds : The Frontier Series 5 (20 page)

Randolph turned to face her, a slow smile spreading across his face. ‘It is nothing,’ he said, dismissing his gloomy thoughts of having to leave this beautiful woman’s side. A woman whom he had decided he would settle down with and spend the rest of his life loving. ‘I was just thinking that I love you.’

Fenella glanced away and frowned before looking back into his face. ‘I wish that you would not say that,’ she said softly. ‘We have enjoyed a grand time together for the past few weeks but love is not something I am able to entertain in my life just now.’

‘Is it Wilkes?’ Randolph growled.

‘No,’ Fenella quickly reassured. ‘What was between Guy and myself is long over. It is just that there are things you do not know about me.’

‘What should I know?’ Randolph asked, exasperated by
Fenella’s continual avoidance of his declarations of love for her. ‘All I know is that I have never met a woman like you, nor had I really known what love means until I first looked into your eyes.’

‘You are very sweet,’ Fenella said, reaching up with her gloved hand to touch his face. ‘But I bear a secret that I cannot tell even you. I must find a way to overcome my problem before I can ever allow myself to feel whole again. Please do not ask me any further questions and let us just enjoy this beautiful day together before we return to the ferry.’

Randolph shook his head but accepted her plea not to interrogate her any further about ‘her secret’. He had lived a life facing danger but considered surviving those experiences easier than learning more about the daughter of Patrick Duffy. He would be patient, however, and maybe one day she would trust him enough to confide whatever haunted her.

The two continued to walk northwards along the beach as small sprays of sand whipped around their legs and a seagull drifting above called with a mournful cry on the winter wind. They would be at the ferry terminus at Manly before dark, travelling together across the harbour to separate – Randolph returning to the hotel and Fenella to her home in the city.

Randolph was now considering his future. He had been bitten by the movie bug and seriously considered accepting Arthur’s offer to work on his projects, as an all-round cameraman, stunt man and sometimes fill-in for the other male actors. Arthur had even thought about making a film with Randolph in the leading role as an Australian stockman. Arthur had identified the American’s ruggedly good-looking face as one that would appeal to the women
who sat in the dark theatres, dreaming of romance away from the constricted lives they led as servants to their husbands. Randolph had a natural, masculine grace and sex appeal that could translate to the celluloid film and onto the silver screens.

To accept such an offer would mean Randolph breaking his partnership with Matthew. But all things had a life expectancy, he consoled himself. He was growing older and it was time that he thought about a steady life away from his drifting from one dangerous place to another. He was a little uncomfortable with his thoughts as he felt like a traitor. At least he would share this one, final mission with the young man he had protected for so many years on behalf of his employer, Kate Tracy. But he needed to see Matthew that evening and explain his decision to settle down in the employ of Arthur Thorncroft after their mission into German territory. It would be the first evening in weeks that he was not spending with Fenella, he mused as they strolled arm in arm along the beach. The tough and independent American felt nervous about facing his friend and informing him of his decision.

Alexander Macintosh sat in the living room of his father’s house re-reading the letter from Giselle for the third time, lingering on her words and sentences as if she were speaking them to him in person. She missed his company and was counting the days until she arrived in Sydney with her mother from New Guinea. Alex sighed when he considered that was still months away. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway outside the living room made any sound, marking the seconds of the late evening.

Since Alex had met the young woman he had not been
able to get her out of his mind and even spent his spare hours plotting a way to return to her father’s plantation. But he was reminded from time to time of the mission he was involved in and its importance to Australia’s future security. Although he was a militia soldier he was still a commissioned officer and took his responsibilities seriously.

‘Your brother has arrived unannounced, Mr Macintosh,’ came the voice of Angus MacDonald from the doorway, interrupting Alex’s pleasant thoughts. ‘Shall I announce him?’

The former soldier was a stickler for protocol and even a member of the immediate family still required permission to enter Colonel Duffy’s house. Angus MacDonald would have preferred that George Macintosh sent his card first – or even made a telephone call to say that he would be visiting. He had done neither which annoyed his sense of right and wrong.

‘Certainly, Angus,’ Alex said, looking up from his letter which he now carefully folded to return it to the envelope with the German stamps adorning it. ‘Show him into the living room.’

When Angus ushered George Macintosh into the living room Alex was standing in the centre of the room wearing his smoking jacket. George had surrendered his coat to Angus and stood wearing an expensive suit.

‘What brings you to the house so late?’ Alex asked his brother.

‘I did not expect to see you here,’ George replied. ‘I came to see Father about a rather disturbing matter, but I suppose you also should be privy to what I have to inform him of.’

Alex frowned. ‘What matter is that?’ he asked.

‘I would rather have Father here before I say anything,’ George replied, searching around the room for a drink. He
could not see any liquor bottles. ‘Angus,’ he called loudly. ‘Fetch the colonel and then also fetch a bottle of his best whisky.’

‘I shall do so,’ Angus called back from the hallway while George settled down in a large, comfortable leather chair opposite a small fireplace. Alex watched his brother make himself at home and thought he had that smug look Alex remembered so well from when they were much younger. It was the look of knowledge of one who had bad news.

Angus entered the room accompanied by Patrick who was also wearing a smoking jacket. The valet placed the bottle of whisky and three crystal glasses on the sideboard and left the room.

‘Hello, George,’ Patrick said. ‘What has brought you here tonight?’

George rose from his chair and walked over to the sideboard where he poured three generous tots of whisky. He handed his father and brother a glass each. ‘I think what I have to tell you tonight is going to require a stiff drink to hear,’ he said. ‘I am afraid that I am the bearer of very bad news concerning Nellie,’ he continued, staring at his father. ‘My sister is both pregnant and a drug addict.’

Patrick’s face paled and Alex could see his father’s hand tremble. For a moment he said nothing.

‘Where in bloody hell did you hear this piece of absolute rubbish?’ Alex responded before his father could recover. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Nor did I want to believe it,’ George replied innocently, taking a sip from his whisky. ‘But I am afraid it is true – Nellie is addicted to heroin and carries Guy Wilkes’ baby.’

‘How in hell did you learn this?’ Patrick said, rage written across his face. He stepped towards George who suddenly felt fearful of the sudden shift in his father’s demeanour.

‘I would rather not disclose how I have come to learn of the situation,’ George quickly answered, taking a step back. ‘Except that Mr Wilkes is prepared to make a written statement corroborating what I have said.’

Patrick placed his untouched glass of whisky on the sideboard. ‘You are speaking about your only sister, and my beloved daughter. Nellie is very special and it is the duty of her brothers to protect her.’

‘Alas, Father,’ George said, ‘I suspect that it is the influences she is exposed to in that immoral industry of film-making that have brought about her condition. I am afraid that you have been remiss yourself to allow her to work for that old sodomite, Arthur Thorncroft.’

‘Uncle Arthur would not abide Nellie being allowed heroin,’ Alex said in defence of the man who was as close as family. ‘If he had known I am sure that he would have informed Father.’

‘Whether he knew or not is rather irrelevant,’ George said. ‘The matter stands that Nellie is both a drug addict and pregnant outside wedlock. I feel that we must do something to attempt to redeem the family’s good name before it is smeared across the tabloids.’

‘What do you suggest?’ Alex countered, watching with concern. His father appeared to be on the verge of exploding in an uncontrollable rage.

George shrugged and returned to the leather chair. ‘That is why I have come here,’ he said. ‘I was hoping that you and Father might have some idea of what to do about the situation.’

‘I still cannot believe that little Nellie is what you say she is – let alone pregnant outside of marriage,’ Patrick said quietly, balling his fists in frustration at the confronting news. ‘I will speak to her personally and clear up this matter
which I know is an outrageous lie. I never liked Wilkes and suspect that the man is an adventurer prepared to blatantly blackmail us. When I get my hands on him I will extract the truth – and damn the consequences in doing so.’

Patrick’s last statement alarmed Alex who had never seen his father so angry. There was something in his father’s eyes that said he meant every word he had threatened. ‘What if I see Nellie and find out the truth,’ Alex suggested, hoping to deflect his father from any meeting with Guy Wilkes – or Nellie for that matter.

‘No,’ Patrick replied. ‘It is my duty to see your sister and ascertain the truth of the matter. I will organise to drive over to Nellie’s place tonight.’

Neither brother attempted to stop their father from leaving. The expression on his face warned them not to interfere.

Patrick drove himself to his daughter’s house, arriving late in the evening. A steady rain fell and Patrick turned up the collar on his coat, unfurled an umbrella and walked towards the front door. He could see that the lights in the house were on and hoped that meant Fenella was still up. He knocked but there was no answer. He tried the door knob to find that it was not locked. Patrick opened the door and stepped inside, shaking the rain from his coat.

‘Who is that?’ Fenella asked in a muffled voice.

‘It’s your father,’ Patrick replied. ‘May I come in?’

A short silence followed as Patrick stood waiting. ‘Yes, Father, just wait a moment,’ Fenella replied. In a moment she appeared, wrapping a long silken dressing gown around her body.

Patrick was shocked at the change in his daughter’s
physical appearance since he had seen her two weeks earlier at the regimental ball. She had lost weight, her skin was a deathly grey colour and there was a distant look in her eyes as if she could not focus on the world around her.

‘Are you ill?’ Patrick asked, striding to his daughter’s side and embracing her. Fenella did not resist his loving gesture, and broke into a sobbing fit against his chest. Patrick led her gently to a sofa and sat her down beside him, his arms around her shoulders as the tears welled and rolled down her cheeks.

‘Is it the opiates you take?’ he asked and Fenella nodded, reaching for the handkerchief her father produced.

‘Are you with child?’ he asked, barely able to muster the question. Fenella did not answer and looked away.

‘Whose child do you carry?’ her father asked in a controlled voice.

‘Do you think that I am some kind of whore?’ Fenella flared between tears. ‘Yes, it is Guy’s child.’

Patrick released the embrace of his daughter and sighed. ‘Then you must marry him,’ he said. ‘And immediately desist from the use of opiates.’

Fenella rose to her feet and turned away. ‘I do not love him, Father,’ she flared angrily. ‘What happened between us was a terrible mistake. Guy took advantage of me against my will when I was under the influence of the drug. He is the last man on earth that I would marry. I love another man.’

Surprised at his daughter’s announcement, Patrick rose to take his daughter by the shoulders, forcing her to confront him. ‘Who is this other man?’ he asked, feeling guilty that he had not taken more notice of what had been occurring in his daughter’s life.

‘You don’t know?’ Fenella asked, almost bursting into bitter laughter. Patrick shook his head.

‘I love Randolph.’

‘Texas Slim!’ Patrick gasped.

‘Yes, Texas Slim, as you call him,’ Fenella replied. ‘But I doubt that he would be able to love a woman carrying another man’s child. He is a man of great honour.’

‘Does Wilkes know that you carry his child?’

‘Yes,’ Fenella answered. ‘I have told him.’

‘Don’t you think that he would marry you under the circumstances?’ Patrick asked quietly, causing his daughter to stare at him in disbelief.

‘Did you not hear what I said?’ she answered angrily. ‘I do not love him.’

‘Love has little to do with marriage,’ Patrick answered weakly.

‘Is that why Mother left you and went to Ireland all those years ago?’ Fenella asked. ‘Was your marriage a matter of duty?’

The rebuke caught Patrick off guard and memories of his dead wife flooded him with sorrow. It was as if history was repeating itself and that the family was truly cursed. He had loved his wife with a passion but had neglected to show it often enough to convince her that she was the high point of his life. She had left him for another man and eventually died in the cold waters of the Irish Sea. It was not known if she had died by accident or suicide.

‘I loved your mother more than life itself,’ he answered in a choked voice. ‘I have not courted any woman since.’

‘Then you would understand why I cannot marry Guy,’ she said. ‘Love is a greater force than duty. I can see that my predicament is causing you and the family shame and I promise you I will do something to rectify that.’

Alarmed, Patrick stepped back. ‘You are not considering taking your own life?’ he gasped. ‘I love you, as my
daughter, and you are more precious to me than you will ever know.’