Beyond the Sunset (21 page)

Reece looked at him in surprise. ‘Do you know how to do that?’

Conn’s face twisted into another of those bitter smiles. ‘Indeed I do. Wasn’t I a lawyer in my other life?’ He saw the surprise on their faces and shrugged. ‘I’m a younger son. I had my living to earn.’

He hadn’t meant to tell anyone that, was annoyed with himself, so added, ‘I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that information to yourself.’

As the men finished eating, Conn asked abruptly, ‘How are you going to get to Albany, Mr Carr?’

‘I’d thought to continue on horseback, though it’s not a comfortable way to travel, but we’ll need to hire another horse for Pandora. Only where can we do that? I didn’t realise when I left Perth how isolated this place is.’

‘Horseback won’t do,’ Mrs Largan said decisively. ‘What about Pandora’s clothes and possessions? You can hardly expect her to travel so far with only a change of clothing in her saddlebags. There’ll be three months of sea travel to England. No, you’ll need to go by cart.’

‘We don’t have one,’ Zachary said.

‘Kevin does,’ Reece said. ‘We came here in it today. It’s a bit old but it seems sound enough. I’m certain he’ll lend it to you, Zachary. And his horse Delilah.’

‘Is that the one who pulled the cart today?’ Conn asked. ‘She’s a sturdy creature, even though she’s not the prettiest horse I’ve ever seen.’

Zachary nodded. ‘Kevin thinks the world of her. Only, Mr Southerham says we’ll be lucky if the horses we’ve hired get us that far. They’re poor specimens, even I can see that, and they tire easily.

‘I’ll look at them,’ Conn offered. ‘I’ve got a gelding who’s very strong, bigger than that mare. I’ll bring him tomorrow, in case you need to borrow him. You won’t need packhorses with a cart, at least. But I’ll only lend you my horse if I find your guide trustworthy. I care a lot about my animals and I’ll not have them neglected or pushed too hard.’

On the return journey Pandora and Zachary sat together in the rear of the cart.

‘Penny for them,’ he said to her.

‘My thoughts aren’t worth a halfpenny, even.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’m trying to think how to change Cassandra’s mind. She’ll regret it if she stays here, I know she will.’

‘No one can know the future, or make decisions for someone else.’

‘What do you know about it? You’re just the messenger!’ She immediately wished she could take the words back, felt ashamed of taking out her unhappiness on him. He clamped his lips together and said nothing for the next mile or two.

Suddenly she could bear her guilt no longer and put a hand on his arm, forcing him to look at her. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘Why not? It was true.’ He shook her arm off. And continued to stare straight ahead.

But she knew she’d hurt him and couldn’t think how to set it right. Couldn’t set anything right in her life at the moment, it seemed.

How could she possibly go back to Outham on her own and leave her sisters behind? And yet . . . how could she not go home?

Back at Westview they found no sign of the owners.

Bert was sitting by the table. He grinned at them and uncovered two loaves that were burned at the edges. ‘I took the liberty of putting another couple of loaves on to bake, with so many of us to be fed. I hope that was all right?’ It was Reece he looked at for approval.

‘Good idea. Where are Mr and Mrs Southerham?’

‘They’ve gone for a ride, all dressed up like gentry.’

‘They
are
gentry.’

‘Yeah, but this is Australia. We get a lot like them coming out here, thinking they’re still ruling the roost in England. But they’re not. I reckon men like you an’ me stand a far better chance of making good lives for ourselves here.’

‘I hope so. Where’s Leo?’

‘Clearing out the stables and making a new muckheap. Mrs Southerham found him some old rags to wear for it. Got to give him his due, that lad doesn’t need telling how to look after animals. Shall I unharness the mare?’

‘No, we’ll be going back to Kevin’s place soon. Perhaps you could give her a drink of water, though.’

‘All right.’

Cassandra looked at the table and clicked her tongue in exasperation as she brushed some ants off it. They’d been after the breadcrumbs that hadn’t been wiped away. Livia had probably wanted to read a book or simply sit and chat to her husband. Her mistress did some of the housework, not grumbling because she wasn’t too proud to dirty her hands, but often she forgot to finish a task properly. How would a woman like that cope here without Pandora’s help?

She turned at a sound from the stables and saw Leo come out with a barrow full of dirty straw, smiling cheerfully across at them.

Zachary moved over to speak to him, probably praising the lad for his hard work, since Leo beamed at him.

When the Southerhams returned, Leo offered to unsaddle their horses and Francis, who was looking tired today, let him do it. ‘He’s really good with animals. Is he going back to England with you?’

Zachary shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m a bit at a loss as to what I should do. I can’t leave him on his own, but how can I deliver him into his stepfather’s clutches again, even if I had the money to pay his fare back to England, which I don’t? And if I borrowed the money for that, how would he earn a living there? He’d be no use working in the shop. And anyway, Harry wouldn’t give him a job. Harry has no patience with people who don’t jump when he says jump – unless they’re rich, that is. Besides, Leo’s too slow-thinking to work there. He can’t read or do the necessary mental arithmetic.’

‘Leo could stay here and work for me. I’d treat him decently.’

‘And if you’re not around?’ He didn’t say
when
but it was fairly obvious that Francis’s days were numbered. Few recovered from the coughing sickness when it got to this stage.

‘In that case I’ll employ him,’ Reece said. ‘Look at him. He’s enjoying the work.’ He grinned. ‘We don’t all enjoy mucking out stables.’

‘That’s settled, then,’ Livia said.

Zachary stood up. ‘Not quite. I have to ask him how he feels.’

‘Is he capable of deciding?’

‘I think so.’ He walked across to Leo. ‘You’re doing a good job there.’

The lad nodded several times, beaming. ‘I like horses.’

‘Would you like to stay here and look after the horses for Mr and Mrs Southerham as a job?’

‘Are
you
staying?’

‘No. I’m going back to England. But I didn’t think you’d want to go back to your stepfather.’

Leo’s smile vanished abruptly and he shivered. ‘No. I wish he wasn’t there. I wish it was just my mother and me, like it used to be. I miss her.’

‘She’s married to him now, for better for worse. You can’t change that.’ He waited, then repeated his question. ‘So, would you like to stay here and look after the horses for Mr Southerham?’

‘What do you think?’ Leo asked.

‘I think you should find something to do that makes you happy. Mr Southerham is ill. If anything happens to him, Reece has promised to give you a job, so you’d be safe here.’

‘Safe here,’ Leo repeated, then looked at him. ‘Can’t you stay too? Don’t you want to be safe?’

‘I can’t stay. I have to take Pandora back to England.’

Leo reached out to pat the horse, brow furrowed in thought. ‘I’d better stay here, then. With the horses. I’m not going back to
him
.’

‘Good lad.’

Zachary rejoined the others and said Leo would be happy to take the job. ‘You’ll pay him wages?’

‘I can’t pay much,’ Francis said, ‘but we’ll look after him.’

‘Pay him something. It’s only fair. Reece, will you look after his money for him?’

‘Yes.’

One burden taken from him, Zachary thought in relief, watching the Southerhams nod and go to sit on their veranda. Always apart from the others, those two. Did it make them happy?

‘We’d better go home now,’ Reece said. ‘Are you coming?’

‘I’ll come a bit later,’ Bert said, ‘Leo wants to see the horses bedded down for the night. There’s a moon and the path’s clear enough.’

Zachary hesitated. ‘I’ll join you later as well, if that’s all right with Pandora?’

She nodded. ‘I need to wash some clothes if we’re setting off the day after tomorrow. I can put them to dry in the tent in case it rains and iron them tomorrow.’

When Zachary saw her fetching a heavy bucket of water from the well, he went to help. ‘Let me carry that for you.’ He took it out of her hands.

‘Thank you.’ She stopped walking to say in a rush, ‘I’m sorry I spoke so sharply to you on the way back. I’ve been regretting my rudeness ever since and . . . I didn’t mean it like it sounded.’

His heart lightened a little. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does.’

‘Then I forgive you.’

Her smile was for him alone and for a moment he couldn’t move, she looked so beautiful. Then he picked up the bucket. ‘Where do you want this?’

He hoped she wouldn’t have to sell the shop. What he’d really like was the job of manager. He knew he could do it better than Harry. Was there any chance of that? Probably not. Harry would have done the job well enough that they’d have no reason to appoint anyone else.

If Zachary did continue to work there, though, he’d be near Pandora and . . . He looked across ruefully. Already he knew how he felt about her – love had hit him like a bolt of lightning when she ran across to greet him. But she definitely didn’t feel the same way about him. ‘Just the messenger,’ she’d said and even if she hadn’t meant it nastily, he must remember that it was indeed all he was. He had to be sensible, for his mother and sister’s sake. It didn’t do to upset those you depended on for your living.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he helped her with the washing, moving heavy buckets and kettles, lending his strength to the wringing of clothes, all by lantern light. He pretended not to see her whisk her underclothes out of his sight. As if he didn’t know what women wore. He lived in a small house with his mother and sister, after all.

Later, as he was walking along the well-marked path through the moonlit bush to seek his makeshift bed in Kevin’s house, he went over his conversation with Pandora in his mind, remembering every word she’d said, every look she’d given him. It wasn’t sensible to let his thoughts dwell on her, but who was to know?

It occurred to him quite forcibly that he’d never had a chance to be anything but sensible, not since his father died. Sometimes he wished he could live as carelessly as other young men, court a lass, laugh with her.

Not any lass, Pandora.

12

T
he following day Conn drove the twins over to say farewell to Pandora. Neither had changed her mind about staying in Australia and he knew it would be an emotional day for them.

He took with him the gelding, which he tied to the rear of the cart, in case Pandora needed another horse for the journey. The twins elected to ride in the back and leave him in solitary splendour on the driving bench. They were both subdued and Maia had reddened, swollen eyes.

Xanthe was more difficult to fathom. She was scowling at everything and everyone today. Con had never guessed that she found housework so boring and even her twin hadn’t known of her desire to travel. What else was she keeping to herself?

Maia’s emotions were always written clearly on her face and that pleased him. He felt he could trust her – and he didn’t trust many people these days except his mother, who had given up everything to join him in Australia: husband, home, family. She’d done that because she knew he’d been falsely accused.

The rest of the family had not questioned the accusation. Well, he and his brother had never got on and he’d even wondered if his brother had helped manufacture the evidence. But Kathleen in particular should have known he was innocent. He pushed the thought of Kathleen away, tried never to think of her. Didn’t always succeed.

His father had found it easy to believe him guilty. Conn would never forgive him for that and he knew his mother felt the same. Theirs had not been the happiest of marriages, and he could guess how bitter their quarrels must have been before his mockery of a trial.

It had been Conn’s friend Ronan, not his family, who had wound up his affairs and sent his money out to Australia after him. He’d repay Ronan for that one day, if he could. Indeed, his friend had talked of coming out for a visit one day. He hoped that would happen.

Conn’s mother had left her home secretly to follow her son to Australia. She’d told him some of the estate workers had helped her, but refused to elaborate further. She had always been a much-loved woman and had sympathised with Conn’s efforts to help the peasant tenants, who lived a hand to mouth existence on their estate. She’d never forgotten the failure of the potato crop and the famine that had followed in the late 1840s when the millions had died.

He’d found out when he was fifteen how grudging his father’s attempts to help feed his tenants had been during that terrible time, and they’d argued about that, as they had about so many things. His father had been furious with Conn for taking the tenants’ side. To his father, such people were barely human.

After a brief explanation of why she’d come to Australia, his mother had refused to talk about her husband again. But he knew she grieved in secret about her torn-apart family, and missed her other children.

To his surprise, he rather enjoyed the drive over to Westview. It was good to get away from Galway House occasionally. Not having to maintain a conversation with the twins freed him to enjoy the countryside, which had lost its beige, bleached summer look after several rainy spells and was turning green again.

He found life much more pleasant here during the cooler months. He didn’t mind the heavy winter storms, well used to rain after Ireland, but he doubted he’d ever grow accustomed to temperatures over a hundred degrees that set in for a few days at a time during the hot dry summers. The hot spells seemed to sap his energy and willpower.

His mother liked the heat, though, and said her arthritis was always much better when the weather was warm. It was for her sake he stayed in such a lonely place, otherwise he might have moved on. He’d come to Galway House to lick his wounds, buying in a hurry, wanting to get away from the humiliation of being a convict. But he was regretting the isolation now. If he’d stayed in Perth, he might have made friends with other emancipists.