Dust on the Horizon (36 page)

“Come along.” Lizzie took his arm and helped him to his feet. “Millie.” She waved to her new daughter-in-law. “Come and cut the cake.”

Thomas put a hand on his shoulder. “We will talk again when we bring the children home in a few days.”

Joseph nodded and let his mother guide him to where she'd set up a large fruit cake with a sprig of the tiny white flowers on top, the same as Millie's hairpiece. Millie picked up the knife. Joseph placed his large sun-browned hand over her slender black one and together they cut the cake. There were more cheers and clapping and congratulations. Once the cake had been shared around, Joseph thought it time to leave. He and Millie were to have a few precious days alone at Smith's Ridge and he wanted to make the most of them. There was still work to be done and Binda would be there of course but he would be out checking their dwindling stock. Thomas and Lizzie would wait for cooler weather and come with the children in a few days.

They kissed the children goodbye. William stood ramrod straight as Joseph shook his hand but allowed his new mother to place a kiss on his cheek. It was a happy crowd that waved them off, except for Esther who was wailing because she wanted to go with them.

Millie had changed into trousers and mounted her horse with ease even though she had only learned to ride since moving to Smith's Ridge. She'd never taken to side-saddle. Joseph thought how good she looked on the small chestnut horse, still wearing her white shirt with the lace collar and now tan trousers and the broad-brimmed leather hat she favoured. More like an explorer than a new bride. They grinned at each other, eager to be on their way. With final waves they headed off, keeping to the large gums beside Wildu Creek for a while until they turned inland towards home.

Joseph had a mixture of feelings. On the one hand he felt so happy he could burst and on the other there was the worry about the looming end of the twenty-one year lease they had on Smith's Ridge. It was the only way he had to feed his family but he could lose the lot to another bidder.

“What is it, Joseph?” Millie had ridden closer to him and gave him a searching look from under her hat.

“Nothing.” He leaned across and kissed her.

“Hmmm.” She licked her lips. “You taste like dust.”

“Good clean dust I hope.”

They rode on a little further in companionable silence.

“You're frowning again.” She gave him a small poke.

“I am worried about Smith's Ridge. How I will provide for you all.”

“You think too much. Let's enjoy today.” Millie urged her horse off to the right around some trees calling over her shoulder. “Tomorrow can take care of itself.”

“Where are you going?”

“It's shorter this way.”

Joseph shook his head and turned his horse to follow.

It was dark by the time they reached the house at Smith's Ridge. The last part of their journey had been slow once the sun went down with only a sliver of moon to guide them.

Once inside, Joseph pulled Millie into his arms but she wriggled away. She lit the lamp in the living room.

“Please wait.” She kissed his cheek and went to the bedroom. “I want to wash the dust from me.”

He watched as she closed the door. Suddenly he felt unsure. In that room he'd spent so many hours with Clara and their children and Clara had died there. He'd lived in it like a hermit ever since. Millie had tidied and dusted what she could from time to time and changed the bedsheets. Damn. He scratched the back of his neck. Why hadn't he thought to tidy up and change the linen at least?

He went to the cupboard and took out his liquor flask. He hadn't had a drink for a few days and he sure needed one now.

The door opened behind him. He looked up to see Millie framed in the doorway wearing one of his shirts that covered her top half but not her long slender legs.

“Come, husband.” Millie's look was decidedly cheeky. “You don't need liquor to give you the courage to come to bed do you?”

He put down the flask, replaced the lid and followed her into the bedroom. He halted just inside the door. The bed had been moved to the other end of the room under the front window. A candle flickered on the small cupboard beside it. There was a new quilt neatly folded at the end and fresh sheets. Where the bed used to be was the hanging rail with their clothes. A water jug and washbasin sat on top of the small chest of drawers that now stood neatly closed under the side window. The curtains were the same but had obviously been washed. The whole room was changed and tidy and, he suspected if he looked closer, much cleaner than when he'd left it two days ago.

“How?” He turned a full circle. By the time his gaze came back to the bed, Millie had removed the shirt and slipped under the sheet. Her dark hair, loose from its clips, fell over her bare shoulders and sprawled across the white pillow. God, how beautiful she looked.

“Jundala helped me once you were out of the house. I hope you don't mind. We thought a change was good.”

He could only shake his head. He was speechless.

She sat up holding the sheet to her and patted the quilt at the end of the bed. “I've been sewing this since you asked me to marry you. It has our names on it and the children's.”

He only gave the brightly coloured quilt a brief glance. It was hard to keep his gaze from her. She turned and blew out the candle. He shed his clothes as quickly as he could and slid under the sheets. She met him halfway, her lips seeking his, her hands pulling him close, as they explored each other's bodies. He knew he had to take his time, go gently, for Millie had never been with a man before and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her but he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. To his surprise Millie rolled him to his back and straddled him. She looked down at him with such love in her eyes Joseph knew everything that had led them to this moment had been right. He reached up and drew her to him, covering her lips with his own.

“Dear sweet Millie,” he murmured in her ear. He would love her forever.

Thirty

“I can't believe it, Mother.” Henry pounded his fist on his dining table. It was new and strong, made of mahogany. His hand smarted. “You said you had important news to discuss. I thought you were coming to Hawker to work out the arrangements for our joint venture into leasing a property. Not to tell me that I had a half-brother and a black one at that.”

“Lower your voice, Henry.” Harriet glowered at him. “Your front windows are open and your housekeeper only a few rooms away. Do you want all of Hawker to know our shame?”

Henry pushed back his chair and paced up and down then stopped beside his mother's chair. “Are you sure it's true? I know you've always had an aversion to coloured people. Are you sure this Aldridge fellow hasn't made this up to frighten you into doing what he wants?”

“He knows everything.”

“Everything?” Henry collapsed back into the chair beside Harriet. “Please God, don't tell me there's more.”

“Pull yourself together, Henry. I am quite convinced Jack Aldridge is who he says he is. There is also a likeness.”

Henry turned to face her.

“He has your father's nose, his eyes.” Harriet fell silent.

“I thought things were bad enough. Mr Hemming tells me that Mrs Taylor had been into the shop with news that the Church of England priest has arrived in town after coming from Wildu Creek. While he was there he married Joseph Baker to his black mistress and now here you tell me my father did the same.”

“He didn't marry her,” Harriet spat. “I was his lawful wife.”

“How could you let him do this to us, Mother?”

“I don't know how Jack Aldridge found me.”

“Not him. My father. Why did he go off looking for a black piece on the side?”

Harriet's hand flew up and she slapped Henry's face. “You will not speak like that.”

Henry put a hand to his cheek. He couldn't ever recall a time when his mother had hit him.

Harriet's eyes narrowed. “Your father left us, not the other way round. He was away for long periods of time. I always believed it was on business. It's as much a shock to me as it is to you that he had another family.”

“Family? There's more?”

“No. Jack said his mother and brother are dead.”

“Thank God.” Then another thought popped into his head. “Does he know about me?”

“He's only just discovered you exist.”

“Catherine.” Henry thought of his wife in Adelaide within easy reach of this man. “Does he know about Catherine and Charles?”

“He saw your wedding portrait.”

Henry put his head in his hands. His two most precious possessions were in harm's way.

“He doesn't know Catherine's name nor that you have a child and he doesn't know where you live.” Harriet took a deep breath. “I am sure you are safe for now.”

Henry looked across at her. “So what's to be done? Presumably you have a plan to rid us of this man.”

Harriet lifted her chin. “Not yet. That's why I've come to you.”

Henry leapt up from his chair. “He could have followed you here.”

“Of course he didn't. He's gone away somewhere. I have at least another week before he returns to my door. If we think it through together—”

They both spun at a knock on the door.

Flora stepped inside. “Would you like me to prepare some lunch, Mr Wiltshire?”

Henry strode to the window. The sight of Flora unnerved him. With Catherine away he had enjoyed his housekeeper's body in his own bed but now that he'd heard about his half-brother it suddenly occurred to Henry that he could father a child with Flora. Damn, he didn't want that to happen. He would have to stop his liaisons with her, gratifying as they were.

“Thank you, Flora.” His mother took the lead. “We will eat here in the dining room.”

From the corner of his eye Henry saw Flora glance in his direction then she left, closing the door behind her. He turned to face his mother.

“My father isn't the first man to father a bastard, nor will he be the last. I say we call Aldridge's bluff. He might cause some curiosity for a while but with no money coming his way, he will surely lose interest and crawl back into whatever cave he came out of.”

“You haven't met him. We won't be easily rid of him.” Harriet fiddled with the gloves she'd removed earlier and had set on the table in front of her. Henry studied her dithering movements. It was not like her to fidget. Then he remembered her earlier comment. There must be something she wasn't telling him about Jack.

“You said Jack knew everything, Mother.” He crossed back and looked down at her. The grey in her hair was much more visible from above. “As if there was more.”

She looked up and he saw real fear in her eyes.

He slipped back into the chair beside her, worry worming its way inside him. His mother was rarely afraid. He reached for her hand.

“Tell me.”

“I was completely unaware of your father's other family. Just before he … he died I went looking for him at the inn in the hills. He wasn't there but we had once lived in a hut tucked in rugged country behind the inn. It's where you were born. I thought perhaps he might be there so I continued on.”

Henry's concern grew as he felt his mother's hand tremble in his. “You found him there with his mistress? That must have been a terrible shock.”

Harriet nodded. She stared towards the window. Henry squeezed her hand. How dreadful for her to be reliving the horror of what she'd discovered. “Go on,” he said softly.

“There was no-one inside when I got there but I heard shouting from behind the hut. Your father cried out, I could see he was being dragged away by two native men, I took his gun but when I got outside I saw Dulcie …”

“Dulcie?”

Harriet turned her pale face to his. “She helped me … when you were born and assisted in the house.”

“A black woman?”

Harriet nodded.

Henry was appalled. His mother had always kept well clear of natives and taught him to do the same.

“Dulcie was holding a toddler and beside her was a bigger boy. He called out to your father … he called him Papa. It was then I realised the children's skin was much lighter and I thought about the long periods of time Septimus stayed away …” Harriet pulled her hand from Henry's, her fingers curled into her palms. She pressed them to her lap. “Dulcie had worked for me. We were not friends but …” Harriet took a deep breath and looked Henry firmly in the eye. “I walked back through the house to my cart and I … I rode away.”

Henry met her look, his blood felt like ice in his veins. “You let them kill your husband?”

“I didn't know they would kill him. I was shocked, angry, I—”

“As you had every right to be.” Henry uncurled her fingers and held both her hands in his.

“I had to think of you,” Harriet said quickly. “I didn't want you tarnished by your father's deeds.”

“I am grateful for that, Mother.” Henry couldn't believe his ears and yet he could. He no longer cared he only had vague memories of a brooding father who was rarely home. Harriet had turned towards the window again. He squeezed her hands gently. “So this Jack Aldridge …”

She looked back at Henry. “Is your father's son, I'm quite sure of it. And he … he …”

“He saw you walk away.”

Harriet nodded. Dread coursed through Henry. He suspected it wasn't going to be as easy to rid them of Jack Aldridge as it had been the bullies of his younger years. There was a sound at the door. It swung open and Flora came in carrying a tray.

“Thank you, Flora.” He met her enquiring look with a stern response. He had also been in the habit of sharing his concerns and thoughts with her after they had been together in bed. In light of his mother's revelations he would have to learn to be more guarded.