South of Capricorn (7 page)

‘My—er—association with Sandra Stafford. You weren’t there at the time—’

‘I was abroad, working,’ she interrupted. ‘You know very well I wasn’t there at the time, for if I had been you and I would have recognized one another.’ She felt a prickling sensation in the region of her spine, a sensation that warned ... or was it telling her that something was not quite right about this situation? Gail decided it was a little of both.

‘Yes,’ he murmured almost to himself, ‘we would have recognized one another.’ A pause; he kept his face away from her. ‘Did Sandra say we were married?’

‘She did, yes.’

‘I have the impression that you didn’t believe her?’

‘None of us believed her.’

‘None of you?’ He half-turned and, she saw him in profile.

‘My parents, and Sandra’s friend—a girl who helped her a great deal, both financially and in any other way she could.’

He seemed to give a small regretful sigh, but she could not be sure about this. However, it caused her to speak impulsively, asking if he were feeling some degree of remorse. At this he turned sharply, dark anger in his gaze. But whatever he had been going to say was bitten back and instead she heard the one brief word,

‘Perhaps.’

Her mouth curved with contempt.

‘A little late, don’t you think?’ with undisguised sarcasm. ‘Had you known qualms sooner then Sandra wouldn’t be where she is now.’ Strong words, and she was not at all surprised to see the angry colour creep along the sides of his jaw. However, once again he held his tongue ... and once again Gail experienced that feeling that he was planning something. She thrust it away, mainly because she could not be sure the impression was not bom of her imagination. She asked outright if he had married her cousin. No answer was forthcoming; instead, Kane Farrell put a few more questions to her, questions which she answered, but at the same time reminding him that he already knew the answers.

‘You were there! You’re the one involved, so I fail to see why you should want me to tell you about Sandra, and the date when Leta was born and all the rest. She wrote telling you about Leta, and I expect she asked you to send her money?’

Was it imagination, she wondered, or had his eyes suddenly taken on an expression of regret?

‘Yes, she did ask me for money,’ he said, almost inaudibly. And he added, in no more than a whisper now, ‘I should have sent her some ... yes, I should—’ He stopped, aware that he had a listener. Gail saw at once that he had been speaking to himself. She said involuntarily,

‘I can’t believe—somehow—that you’re such a cad as I first branded you.’

His swift smile was sardonic.

‘I’m flattered,’ he said crisply, and then he added, ‘You’re outspoken if nothing else, Miss Stafford.’ ‘Naturally we’ve all branded you a cad!’

He glanced to where Leta was sitting, on a fallen tree trunk which was lying not far from where his horse was cropping the grass.

‘In every situation,’ he said slowly, ‘there are parts unknown.’ He looked seriously at her. ‘I make a point of never condemning unless I have proof that condemnation is deserved. I want to ask you, Miss Stafford, to remember this.’

She lowered her lashes, acutely conscious of a rebuke.

‘You’ve shirked your duty; you’ll own to that?’

He allowed that to pass and said,

‘You asked just now if I was married to your cousin. You obviously sorted out her papers after she had died?’

Gail’s eyes widened. It was just as if he were pumping her—subtly asking if she had found a marriage certificate! If he were married to Sandra, then there most certainly would have been a marriage certificate in existence. He must know this. Puzzled in the extreme, and acutely conscious of that tingling sensation which seemed to warn that something was not quite right, she asked herself why Kane Farrell was so cautiously avoiding a direct answer. He knew whether or not he had been married to Leta’s mother. Of course he knew ... and yet he appeared to be probing to discover whether or not any proof of a marriage existed. Gail shook her head bewilderedly, and stared at him with a questioning gaze.

‘I didn’t find a marriage certificate,’ she said, and then, ‘Mr. Farrell, were you married to Sandra?’ Surely he could not continue to avoid answering her, thought Gail, and she was right. He was hesitating, but she saw by his expression that an answer would this time be forthcoming.

‘No ... I was not married to Leta’s mother…’

Silence except for the sudden whinnying of the horse and the following exclamation with which Leta responded to it. Gail was still staring up into Kane Farrell’s dark countenance, her mind going over what he had just said. There had been the hesitation, and the rather odd inflection in his tone, and it was his tone rather than the words themselves which puzzled her. Also puzzling to her was her own state of mind, for one moment she was condemning him while the next she was telling herself that he could not be so heartless as it appeared on the surface.

‘Parts unknown ...’ So grave the voice, and a warning in the slate-grey eyes. What did he mean? Had there been some excuse for his conduct? But no. Gail would not have it. He had received Sandra’s letter; he had admitted this, and he had also admitted that he should have sent her money.

‘You’re a strange man,’ she sighed, not to him, but merely murmuring her thoughts aloud. ‘I wish I understood.’

No response from Kane Farrell; his brow was furrowed and even yet again she had the impression that he had some plan in mind.

‘Tell me,’ he said at length, ‘why was there no one who would take the child?’

‘Because I’m so naughty!’ from Leta who had risen and come towards him. ‘I’m bad, very bad! Mrs. Renshawe down our lane said I was the devil’s she-cub —’ She broke off, frowning. ‘What’s a cub? I thought it was a little baby lion.’ She looked up at him. ‘If it is then I’m not a cub, am I?’ she added, diverted to such an extent that the expression in her eyes was one of wonderment—rather an attractive expression, thought Gail, recalling how at times her expression could be so vicious that she looked almost ugly.

‘No,’ he said unsmilingly, ‘you’re not a cub.’ Still thoughtful, Gail noticed, and she wished she could see what was going on in his mind.

‘Oh, a beetle!’ Leta bent down; the brooch was still in her hand and she was all ready to stick the pin in the insect when Gail snatched at her wrist and dragged her away.

‘You naughty girl! How many times have I told you that it hurts little creatures when you treat them like that!’ She was furious, and for the moment Kane Farrell was completely forgotten.

‘I like hurting them! I’ll stick it in you in a minute! And I’ll stick it ten times in that lady, because I don’t like her! You know, the lady we saw at Daddy’s house!’

‘Lady?’ Kane looked at Gail, the words of censure he had been going to say to Leta having been stemmed for the present. ‘She had black hair?’

‘That’s right.’

Kane’s eyes took on a darkling expression, but at the same time he had that faraway look mingling with it. Gail waited, half expecting him to make some further reference to the woman who was his stepmother. But he lapsed into a silence and she began to stir restlessly. At length she asked about the Overlander, adding that she wished to get away from here as soon as possible.

Turning lazily, he regarded her with a mild inscrutable stare before he said, staggering her so that she could only gape at him unbelievingly,

‘If my daughter stays then you stay too, Miss Stafford.’

‘W-what did you say?’ she managed at last.

‘I believe you heard me.’ Totally unaffected by this moment which was to Gail overcharged, he took up the reins which he had previously hooked over the broken branch of a eucalpyt. ‘You don’t leave Leta with me unless you stay with her.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Her mind was so confused that she scarcely knew what she was saying. But she was acutely aware of the impregnable, granite-like quality of his face, and also of the fact that, should he prove to be immovable, then the whole point and purpose of her journey here would be destroyed. ‘It’s quite impossible for me to stay!’ She gestured with her hands, her mind still clouded by what he had said. ‘This ultimatum’s stupid! What would I want to stay in a place like this for?’

Ignoring this, he said calmly,

‘I need a mother for my child.’

‘You must be out of your mind!’

‘On the contrary,’ he rejoined smoothly, ‘my mind was never more ordered.’

‘But-’

‘I have no intention of entering into any argument,’ he broke in gently. ‘It should be plain to you that I can’t have Leta unless I also have someone to look after her.’

‘You want a nanny? But you said a mother.’ ‘A mother, yes.’

Gail made another impatient gesture with her hands, ‘What are you trying to say, Mr. Farrell?’

His grey eyes seemed to smile with amusement.

‘I’m not offering you marriage,’ he began, then stopped a second or two to watch the colour creep into her cheeks. ‘All the same, it’s a mother I want for Leta—not a nanny.’ He paused a moment as Leta came closer to him. She looked up and smiled. He flicked a finger and to Gail’s utter amazement the child instantly obeyed the unspoken command and moved away, out of earshot. ‘What I want is for you to pose as my wife— No, please don’t interrupt me! I want you to pose as my long-lost wife. We parted—a misunderstanding or silly quarrel caused it—but now we’ve come together again, a happy family—’

‘You are out of your mind,’ she interrupted, but even as the words left her lips the truth burst in upon her. So there had been some basis for her suspicions that he was planning something!

‘Either you remain here with Leta or you take her back to England with you,’ Kane Farrell was saying implacably. ‘And if you do take her back, then you mustn’t trouble me with her ever again.’ He sounded callous, she thought, but she made no comment, her mind being totally absorbed by what she had discovered. Kane Farrell wanted her, Gail, to pose as his wife, so taking his stepmother’s place as mistress of his home. And of course Leta was an important part of the plan; a few weeks of that little delinquent and Mrs. Farrell would know only one way to turn—towards the door!

It was an ingenious scheme, and it had come to Kane when he saw what kind of a child his young daughter was. She would quite literally drive his stepmother out, he had concluded. Gail had to smile despite the tenseness of the scene. How fortunate Kane must have felt himself to be—with his daughter coming along at a time like this!

‘Mr. Farrell—’ she began, when he interrupted her to say,

‘Kane’s the name. I’m sure I’ve made myself clear,’ he went on to add. ‘Either you both stay here, at Vernay Downs, or you both leave. The choice is yours.’

‘I’ve already made my choice. It’s impossible for me to stay, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I have a job; I live with my parents—I’m their only child— Oh, the whole proposition’s so absurd that it’s not worth my entering into explanations as to why I can’t accept it!’ She spoke resolutely, meaning every word she uttered, so why this subconscious thrusting away of the intruding vision of life out here, in this wild and lonely land with its endless plains, its strange animals and trees, its perverse climate and the almost feudal manner in which most of its properties were run.

‘In that case, there’s no more to be said. I’ll arrange for you and Leta to be taken back to the station—’ He broke off and turned, as did Gail. Leta, obviously having heard what was being said, was standing just behind Kane Farrell... and her lovely eyes were brim-ming with tears.

‘Aren’t I staying with my daddy, after all?’ she cried, stepping towards Gail and clutching her skirt with both hands, having dropped her doll on to the ground. ‘Why won’t you stay, Gail? I want to have a daddy of my own...’ The tears flowed, but before Gail could stoop to comfort her she ran away and sat down on the fallen tree trunk, then began rocking herself to and fro, crying softly, ‘I wanted a daddy, like Susan and Diana and Emma. I wanted a daddy of my own ...’

Gail looked up at Kane Farrell, and his eyes flickered strangely as he noted the tears in hers.

‘I had no idea she could be like this,’ she quivered. ‘What must I do—?’ She stopped, astounded by her weakness ... and yet how could she ignore the plight of Sandra’s child? No use telling herself that, having honoured her promise by bringing the child here, she could not help it if all had not gone according to the wishes of her mother. No, that was shirking the issue. And if she did shirk then she would be no less blameworthy than Kane Farrell himself. And yet Leta, despite this moment of weeping for her father, was still Leta—the unbridled creature for whom no one had ever had a good word.

‘I could never manage her!’ Gail was distressed and it showed. Kane Farrell’s expression became exceedingly curious as he watched the quiver of her lips, the rapid blinking of her eyelids as she endeavoured to prevent the tears from falling on to her cheeks. He moved, restlessly, and his brow was furrowed in a frown. She saw a movement in his throat, as if he were swallowing with difficulty something that had lodged there. ‘No, I could never manage her!’

‘I’ll be good !’ The cry came urgently, but Leta remained motionless on the trunk of the tree. ‘Stay, Gail! Stay here so that I can stay too! I want to have a daddy of my own!’

Although she felt dreadful about it, Gail resolutely ignored Leta’s first sentence, since she knew for sure that she could not be good if she tried. And she never did try! There was in her a bit of the devil himself and nothing less than a miracle would drive it out.

‘I can’t stay...’ But her voice faltered to silence. It was not only Leta’s plight that was driving her from the path of reason; it was also the man himself, Kane Farrell, Boss of Vernay Downs cattle station, who was responsible for this swinging of her emotions. It was as if he possessed some impelling mental pressure with which he could bend her to his will. Reprehensible he might be, yet she was puzzled because there seemed to be so much about him that was contradictory. She was unable to fight against the attractiveness of him, vaguely wondering if it was partly his outward appearance which affected her—his powerful physique or tough, sun-bitten good looks. Or was it solely his dynamic personality and aristocratic air?