The Bark Cutters (15 page)

Rose lifted Elizabeth into her arms and held the sleeping child close. Her daughter snuggled tightly against her and Rose smelt the fresh scent of bath water and the milky remnants of her dinner. On the other side of the nursery, two-year-old William slept soundly beside Elizabeth's twin brother, Howard. The boys were easily disturbed and on more than one occasion the nanny had chastised Rose for waking them. For now they were quiet, lulled by food and a late afternoon playtime.

Rose settled her cheek gently against Elizabeth's smooth forehead and swayed softly to an unspoken lullaby. The children's nanny was eating dinner in the kitchen with the rest of the staff and would not return to her domain for at least an hour. This was the most wondrous part of Rose's day, when the three miracles she had created were hers alone to enjoy. Their births, particularly Elizabeth's, helped to calm Rose's unhappiness and her devotion to her children eased the pain of a marriage she wished she could escape from. No matter what Hamish did or said to try to ease the
discontent between them, Rose was unable to forgive him. She considered her husband a formidable businessman, but the fact remained that Hamish was a most unscrupulous individual.

Only his continued absences made her daily life enjoyable, for Rose had settled into a happy existence revolving around her children, the smooth running of her household and the twice-weekly morning teas she held, to which she invited only the most prominent matrons of the district. After all, the Gordon money might well be tainted but Rose considered it a duty to uphold the good name of Sutton. Combined with her weekly piano lessons, Rose felt herself content and at long last, thanks to her darling children, both loved and needed. With the cessation of her physical relationship with Hamish, accomplished by letting out such a scream of abhorrence one night that he moved into another bedroom, life had finally became quite agreeable. Until last night.

Hamish returned unannounced after an eight-month absence. In the four years of their marriage she had grown accustomed to his irregular visits, however this last absence had been one of the longest. The hour was late when he demanded entry to her bedroom, stripped her of her fine lace nightgown and proceeded to ravish her. The whole event completed wordlessly and with little fanfare had taken Rose so by surprise that she never uttered a word, even when Hamish kissed her gently on the cheek, turned on his side and slept soundly until dawn.

Elizabeth now squirmed in her arms.

‘Shh, baby. Mama's here.' Placing a soft kiss on the pale crown of hair, Rose placed her daughter back in her crib. She was due downstairs in the drawing room at Hamish's behest and while promptness was important to her, she refused to give Hamish what he apparently felt his due – obedience. The household was under her control, not his and just because the two of them managed a passable night together did not
mean for one instant that she would relinquish control of her domain.

Hamish paced the panelled lounge room, noticing the concessions to femininity. Reynolds family portraits, long disposed of, had been replaced by large oil paintings depicting idyllic rural scenes, crystal vases held fresh flowers and the very leather chairs he so admired now graced with embroidered cushions. Already his mother-in-law sat happily in one of the armchairs, dozing under the combined influence of weight and the heat of the fire. Her hair was carefully arranged into a fashionable style that quite flattered the otherwise plump face. Hamish considered the cut-glass decanter with its enviable contents, simultaneously deciding against another dram. He expected a scene, for there was always some type of one, in one form or another.

At least the children were asleep, saving him the effort of inspection. With the twins nearing four years of age and young William, two, the thought of subjecting himself to the noise and general havoc of their company elicited an ill-tempered scowl borne of previous encounters. He hoped for better things from them soon, of which only age would determine. Now that he had a family and the respectability he believed an influential man required, he did not know what to do with them. Clearly they were happiest here and Rose still knew nothing of Wangallon Station. Her lack of interest had so deflated his pride in the purchase that he'd not bothered to raise the subject again, yet now his home was built. He wanted his family about him and still hoped for some form of reconciliation with his wife. Hamish scratched the thickness of hair at the nape of his neck.

Rose shut the panelled door quietly and, smoothing the heavy material of her skirt, sat in the leather chair next to her mother.
No doubt he would reveal that the rumours circulating in the kitchen were true, that his business up north had outgrown Ridge Gully. Rose hoped that her life would go on unchanged. She dearly wished to be left here with her mother and her children and truly believed that considering her husband's infrequent visits home, that their lives would go on unaltered. Why was there a need to change a domestic situation that was almost agreeable? She could do little about how her wealth had been accumulated, so instead she had determined to create a genteel world redolent of the peaceful restfulness of Sir Malcolm's home. Gradually she hoped the shadow of her husband's dealings would fade as her children grew. She was in discussion already with the housekeeper with regard to furnishings and had ordered some fine curtain material for her bedroom, which she determined to redecorate in a pink and white brocade.

Hamish observed his young wife carefully. The business of mothering agreed with her and he experienced a renewed interest in a face grown more attractive and a fuller figure. Unfortunately she had lost none of her attitude, despite her reluctant acceptance of his advances the previous evening. If they were to be reconciled, changes would have to be made, regardless of Rose's inclinations. The woman agreed to be his wife. One could not change one's mind on a whim.

Moving to the fireplace, he poked a stray log into the embers, turning as the flames lit both the room and the face of his wife seen only briefly in daylight since their marriage.

‘There have been significant changes in my business over the last months.'

At his voice, Lorna woke immediately, struggling to attention. Rose glanced at her mother, at the pale pink of her gown and the matching shade that now graced her lips and cheeks daily. ‘Indeed, sir, and whose stock have you stolen today?'

‘Rose, mind your tongue! You are speaking to the father of your children, your husband and provider.'

Removing a pouch of tobacco, Hamish began to carefully pack the pipe he had taken to smoking only recently. ‘No, Lorna, the lass is angry and well she should be, for I have not been the husband I promised.' He stated this purely for the girl's benefit.

‘You promised nothing and it is less than that I have received these last months. It is only through the gossip of the townsfolk, of the servants who come to this house, that I have become aware that you, Mr Gordon, are a thief of stock, property and land.'

Puffing at his pipe, Hamish concentrated on the curl of smoke rising towards the ceiling. Rose's petulant outbursts were unchanged since their first bitter argument prior to the twins' births. He ran his eyes over the heavy leaf green silk of her gown.

‘I find your comments amusing, my dear, considering how easily you spend my money.' For the first time, Hamish saw his wife for what she really was: the daughter of a prostitute, well skilled as a tutor in polite society, yet now too high principled to value her husband's increasing wealth, nor for that matter, her own and her mother's good fortune.

‘Good gracious, forgive my daughter, sir,' Lorna exclaimed as she stood. ‘We are most grateful …'

‘Enough! I will not endure this conversation any longer, my decision is made.' Tapping out the remains of his pipe into the hearth, Hamish rested a long muscular arm along the mantlepiece, his fingers brushing the base of a fine porcelain urn acquired on one of his many trips. Regardless of Rose's feelings towards him, he could not bring himself to desert her. He had spent too many months regretting his relationship with his dead brother. Rose was his family now. He owed it to his brother's memory to try to remedy this failing marriage and ensure his future relationship with his children was not tainted by his past mistakes. More importantly, it was imperative the Gordon
blood-line continued. It would be a new start in a new country far removed from the father he'd left behind.

‘This should be fascinating,' Rose answered with feigned politeness.

‘I have sold the agency and the general store to Todd Reynolds and the houses either side of the main residence.'

‘But they were your wedding gift to me,' Rose uttered as she grasped the arms of her chair.

‘Aye, and the money will be invested elsewhere, along with the income received from them these past months.'

Moving swiftly to her feet, Rose's hands formed small, tight fists. ‘That money was for Elizabeth, Howard and William, for their learning. I will not let you …'

The darkness crossed his face suddenly. Lorna, having risen in excitement, pulled lightly at her daughter's sleeve, entreating her to sit.

‘When Howard and William require schooling they will receive the best. Young Elizabeth will receive instruction in those areas deemed appropriate for a gentlewoman; enough to find a suitable husband. I have purchased land, a large portion five hundred miles northwest of Ridge Gully, and tomorrow we leave for it. My daughter will stay here with you, Lorna, in this house. I have hired an extra servant and, of course, a monthly allowance will be yours in repayment.'

Rose felt as if someone had placed a stake in her chest. ‘My Elizabeth?' She looked helplessly at her mother but there was no mistaking Lorna's relief. The woman glowed happily as she lifted a lace-edged handkerchief to her eyes.

‘Of course the sale of the General Store means you will be relieved of the more mundane day-to-day duties associated with it, Lorna, however I have informed Tootles that you will remain the overall manager. He's purchased only half of the business. I gift the other half to you.'

Lorna, turning puce with the news, rose instantly to kiss her beloved son-in-law, only regaining her senses at the last second as Hamish drew away from the advancing figure.

‘Rose will join me and my sons, of course.' It was done, the boys would be safe. There would be a second generation of Gordons in this country.

Lorna Sutton knew fortune when it came to her. Rose would be better under the guidance of her husband and, if that meant separation from her child, although she wondered at the reasoning of it, well so be it. Inclining her head as sweetly as possible, Lorna excused herself from the room. ‘I'll see to the packing for the child then. Please excuse me.' At week's end she would have a dinner, perhaps invite Mr Todd Reynolds. Then there were new gowns to decide upon, the menu for the following week … Oh, she would so enjoy being mistress of this grand house for a change.

Hamish waited for the door to click shut. ‘A drink?' His question ignored, he poured a small whisky and passed the fine-cut glass to his wife. She accepted it with shaking hands. ‘This is for the best, you know, for our family, for our future.'

Rose stood unsteadily. Composing herself she joined her husband before the fireplace on the handsome red, blue and gold rug retrieved from Matthew Reynolds' former bedroom. She studied the tall man beside her. Flecks of grey speckled his whiskers and hair, fine creases hung about his eyes. ‘I don't know you,' she found herself saying.

‘You knew enough to marry me.' Hamish took her hand. It was cold to the touch. ‘I did try to tell you about Wangallon, but you weren't interested.'

‘I can't leave Elizabeth.' She felt unsteady, her hand reached for the mantlepiece.

‘Your daughter will be safe here,' Hamish said quietly. His wife looked very pale. ‘And Ridge Gully is the best place for her to receive the proper education.'

‘Don't take her from me. Please.'

‘Are you unwell? Perhaps you should sit, Rose.'

‘She's all I have.'

Hamish took his wife's hand. ‘I'm not trying to punish you, Rose. You and I have to make a life for ourselves, together, and the bush is no place for a baby girl. Not for little Elizabeth. In the future, should her husband's business lead her to a life on a property then so be it. In the meantime I wish her to stay here and enjoy the advantages of a feminine education.'

‘And me?' Rose pulled her hand free of his grasp.

‘Rose, you are being melodramatic. You're my wife.' Hamish drained his glass. ‘I would hardly leave you here or my sons. Besides, there will be more children.'

‘I hate you!'

‘No, you don't,' Hamish said patiently. ‘Don't you want Elizabeth to play the pianoforte and have singing lessons? Those options will not be available to her where we are going.'

‘I do, I tell you. I hate you and I won't let you take Elizabeth from me.'