Virtue of a Governess (29 page)

“I understand.” She moved her head a little, taking in the stark white room. “Where is Nathaniel?”

“Home. I left him shaving.” Fran smiled, patting Nicola’s hand. “He hasn’t slept for two days and last night I begged him to sleep, wash and change his clothes.”

“Two days?”

“Yes.” Frances brushed Nicola’s hair back from her forehead. “You were attacked on Thursday morning and today is Saturday.”

Nicola swallowed with difficulty, her throat dry. Images, no more than flashes, played in her mind of the attack. Lombard’s face, the rotten teeth of the man with him and then pain. “How did I get here?”

“A woman found you and she called to a passing dray. The driver brought you here.”

She nodded, though remembered none of it. “Can I have some water, please?”

“Of course.” Frances dashed to the narrow table under the small window. She fussed with the water jug and cup. “The water isn’t very cold, nearly warm in fact.”

“It’ll be fine.” With Frances’s help she sipped the water, savouring the moisture in her mouth. Twinges in her side made her wince, but drinking the water was worth the effort.

“Nicola.” Frances took the cup away and shifted on her chair. “Dearest, do you know who did this to you? Do you recollect anything?”

“Yes, some.” She was remembering more and more, Lombard’s threats, the alley. She’d been reading Meg’s letter on the way to the printer. “Is Nathaniel coming here today?”

“Absolutely.” Frances rolled her eyes. “He’s been unbearable. It’s the worry, I know that, but my patience was coming to an end with him. He wouldn’t leave you, he shouted at everyone, including the poor constables that came. I was embarrassed and furious with him yesterday.”

“I’m sorry for causing all this trouble.”

“Nonsense. It’s hardly your fault, is it? Nat will be so happy to see you awake properly. Likely now he’ll behave as he should.”

Nicola’s eyelids grew heavy. “Tell the doctor I don’t want any more laudanum.”

“I will. You rest and then we’ll talk again.” Fran bent over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

When she next awoke, she found the room dull with a greyish light. The only sound was the clicking of Frances’s needles as she sat knitting on the chair by the bed. When relaxed, her sister-in-law was a handsome woman, especially now she’d grown her hair longer and wore elegant clothes more often than not. A splatter of rain hit the window and in the distance came the rumble of thunder. “What time is it, Fran?”

“Oh! You gave me a fright.” Frances put her knitting away and leaned forward. “How did you sleep?”

“Well.”

“I think you slept for about an hour. It’s nearly midday. There’s a huge thunderstorm happening outside. Miss McIntyre called in to see you. Everyone at the Home sends their very best.”

“That’s nice. Is Nathaniel here?”

“No. He was, but he went again.” Fran smoothed the blanket down. “He’s gone back to the police station. Cannot sit still for a second, never could.” She grinned. “Do you want some more water?”

“Please.” She hated feeling so helpless. She wasn’t one for being sick. The legacy of caring for her mother for years made her unwilling to place that duty on another. The drink refreshed her, though the pain returned, stronger than before.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” She looked to the doorway, wishing Nathaniel would come through it. She missed him, wanted his arms about her, to see his smile.

“The police inspector will come this afternoon, Nicola. I told the doctor you had woken and talked to me earlier.”

She thought of Lombard, his threat and the man who drew his knife. “What do the police know?”

“Nothing. That’s why they are keen to talk to you.”

For a moment she wished it was all over and done with, then her courage returned. She wasn’t a coward and would deal with this mess, but how she prayed it’d never happened. “I don’t know what to do, Fran.”

“About what, dearest?”

“About the incident.”

Fran held her hand in both of hers. “Simply tell the police what you know, they’ll take it from there.”

“I’m scared too.”

“Why?”

“Because it was Tristan Lombard and his man.”

Frances reared back in her chair, her grey eyes wide. “Tristan Lombard, Nat’s friend? He stabbed you?”

Emotion welled in her chest and she closed her eyes. Fran had lost the colour in her cheeks and Nicola could only imagine what the news would do to Nathaniel.

“Tell me, Nicola,” Fran shook her hand, “Tell me everything.”

She wiped the tears from her good eye, not daring to touch the puffy bruising on the left side of her face. “It’s my fault really. I shouldn’t have provoked him, Tristan, I mean. He stopped me in the alley and although he was rude, I should have ignored his bad manners and kept going.”

“I never did like the man.” Frances fumed. “I told Nat plenty of times to stay away from him, he’s a bad one is Lombard.”

“He made some disgusting remarks as to why Nathaniel married me and I lost my temper. Lombard was also angry, angry at Nathaniel over some business…” She rubbed her forehead, desperate to remember everything she could. “Carstairs. Lombard mentioned Carstairs and that he would tell people about him and Nathaniel.”

“What did he mean?”

“I don’t know for sure, but whatever it is, it mustn’t be good, as I feel Lombard has some hold over him. Lombard said that Nathaniel had to go see him. He’d lost money or something and it was Nathaniel’s fault.”

Frances sagged against the chair. “I cannot believe this.”

“And I lost my temper and told him to go to Hell.” Nicola picked at the blanket, recalling the fear she’d felt as the other man advanced on her. “Lombard gave a nod to his man, who then attacked me.”

“Oh dear God.” Frances looked ill. “This will…Lord, we cannot tell Nat, he’ll go mad. Murder will be done.”

Nicola’s bottom lip trembled and more tears fell. “What can I do, Fran?”

Nathaniel stepped from behind the door, his expression stiff as though cast from granite. “You will do nothing.”

“Nat!” Fran jumped to her feet. “No, Nat. This is for the police to decide, not you.”

“The man will be dead by nightfall.”

Nicola watched him, amazed at his self-control. He’d brought the smell of rain with him and droplets glistened on his coat. He looked so powerful, so handsome. She held out her hand, aching for him. “Nathaniel.”

He blinked, but remained unmoved.

She willed him to come to her for if he left the room filled with his cold rage then murder would be done as Fran said it would. His eyes, those beautiful violet eyes she adored, narrowed and his hand twitched. He fought within himself. “Nathaniel. I need you.”

Nathaniel jerked as if slapped. His eyes focused on her and in an instant he’d thrown off his coat and was beside her, scooping her up into his arms. He held her so tight she couldn’t breathe and the wound in her side throbbed.

Her words had the effect she knew they would. She had never needed anyone in her life and he knew it. Often since their wedding day, he’d joked that she could go on living without him, whereas he would die if she ever left him. Being independent, she had agreed it was true. She required no one. Only now, after being married to this man and loving him so intensely, did she realise that she did need him, desperately.

She leaned back in his arms, ignoring the soreness each movement made, and gazed up at him. “Do you love me?”

He kissed her repeatedly. “You know I do.”

“And you don’t want to leave me?”

“Never, my darling, never.” He cradled her head in one hand, his love shining from his eyes.

“Then you will not go near Tristan Lombard.” She felt him tense. He went to speak but she silenced him with a finger against his lips. “I will not be married to a criminal, do you understand, nor will I be a widow.”

“Nic-”

“No, Nat. You must listen to me. Frances is right,” she darted a glance at Frances, lowering her hand from his mouth, “if you go near Lombard blood will be shed and I couldn’t stand it.”

“He has to pay.”

“And what of the threat concerning Carstairs? I want the truth of it.”

Nathaniel let go of her and went to stand by the window. “Carstairs and I did business together, along with Tristan.”

“Illegal business I take it?” Frances barked, folding her arms.

“Yes. We imported fine goods, but didn’t pay tax on them.”

“Oh, Nat.” Frances shook her head, the disappointment in her tone matched how Nicola felt.

“We did three shipments last year and were meant to do two more this year, but,” he gazed apologetically at Nicola, “I backed out of the agreement when you agreed to marry me.” He drew in a deep breath. “When Carstairs learnt of my plans he scrapped the whole idea and left Sydney. However, when he left, he also took our money for the cargo with him. I could afford to cover the loss, but Lombard couldn’t.” Nathaniel ran his hand through his hair. “I only learnt of Lombard’s descent into debt after we returned from the country. He’d always been a gambler and strayed close to ruin many times, but usually he managed to pull himself out of it, but not this time.”

“Is this the only illegal business you’ve done?” Nicola forced the words out.

“Yes. I only got involved because I was drunk the first time we agreed to do it. The danger of it excited me.” He shrugged as if confused at himself. “Only, that feeling didn’t last as long as I expected. There is no excuse for my behaviour. At the time I found my life dull and empty. I was simply trying to find something to do…”

Frances slumped into the chair, a look of reproach on her face.

Nicola sighed, tiredness pulled at the back of her eyes and she felt sore all over. “We need to decide what to do.”

“We cannot tell the police now,” Fran snapped.

Nathaniel stepped forward. “I’m sorry it has come to this. I never imagined my family would become involved and hurt. I will deal with Lombard accordingly.”

“No!” Nicola and Frances cried together.

“I won’t do anything ridiculous. Trust me.” He came and sat down on the bed and took Nicola’s hands in his.

“You will lose your temper. I know it.” She had to prevent him from doing something stupid, but how? She couldn’t watch him day and night.

“I promise you I won’t even see him. I’ll simply make inquiries.”

Leaning back against the pillow, the energy drained from her. “I just want him gone. I’d be very happy if he left Sydney and never returned. I couldn’t bear to face him again.”

“I’ll see that it is done.” He kissed her. “I promise.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m so tired, Nathaniel. I don’t like being tired.”

“Then go to sleep, my love.”

“Will you stay with me?” At least if he stayed with her for an hour or two it might give his temper a chance to cool.

“Nothing will part me from you.”

She felt him kiss her on the head and then she gratefully sank into oblivion.

* * * 

“Well, look at you.” Frances grinned as she joined Nicola in the parlour. “You seem much better today.”

“I feel it.”

Frances picked up Nicola’s sketchbook from the table beside the sofa. “You have been sketching?” She flicked through the book. “That’s a splendid one.” She laughed, holding up a drawing of herself. “You’ve made me far prettier in this than I am.”

“Nonsense.”

“Are you tired? With this being your first day downstairs we don’t want you becoming exhausted.”

“I am recovering very well. Being home is such a pleasure, but being allowed downstairs is even better.” Nicola curled her stocking-covered toes up towards the heat of the roaring fire. A newspaper lay open on her lap. Despite being home for a week, Nathaniel had insisted she stay in bed and rest. After the fourth day she was weary of staring at the same four walls. She’d read books and written letters, even had visitors, but by the fifth day she’d begged to be allowed downstairs.

“Do you need anything?” Fran asked, jabbing the fire with an iron poker.

“No, thank you. Agnes comes in every ten minutes and Mrs Rawlings every half hour.” Nicola laughed. “Between them, I want for nothing.”

“No doubt Nat gave them strict instructions not to leave you alone. I’m sure he believes you’ll be in the carriage the minute his back is turned.”

“That’s something he need not worry about. Just walking a few steps pulls at my stitches.” She grimaced at the thought of the sharp pain she got when she moved too quickly. A few times she had to hold back a scream as Nathaniel touched her in the night, not thinking as he slept. For all that though, she was happy to be beside him again and out of the hospital.

“You’d not want to venture out anyway, it’s freezing today. In the few years I’ve been here I’ve never known May to be so cold and we have months of this ahead of us. I think I would die if I ever had to return to England. I’m too used to the warmth now.”

Nicola watched the flames, remembering England and the whiteness of a snow-covered countryside. “Where have you been today?”

“The soup kitchen this morning and then I called to see a few families in Newtown. I managed to buy a good quantity of bread loaves and the baker even offered to drive me to deliver them.”

“The baker?” Nicola hid a smile behind her hand. “That wouldn’t be the baker from Phillip Street, would it?”

Fran gave her a cool stare. “And if it was?”

“What is his name?” Nicola played dumb, knowing it drove Fran mad. “Lawson, is it? John Lawson?”

“You know damn well it is.” Frances sniffed. “What of it pray?”

Nicola stared with a raised eyebrow. “You seem to be spending a lot of time with him lately.”

“Don’t be absurd. He offers me good deals so I can feed a few families. There is nothing to make of that. His mother has been a good friend to me regarding the soup kitchen.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen, you know, being attracted to a man.”