Jewel In the North Page 14

  “Gone?”

  “He’s passed.”

  “Passed?”

  Fear gripped Georgina. “Are you saying my father is dead?”

  Catherine let out a sharp cry.

  “Yes.” Henry croaked.

  “He can’t be.” Johanna shook her head in disbelief. “I had a telegram from him before we left Sydney. He was looking forward to our return.”

  “And so he was.” Henry patted her hand. “I dined with him only a few weeks ago and he was delighted to know you would soon be home.”

  Georgina turned a baleful look on Catherine, who was sobbing openly now. It was hard to think. “What happened?”

  “Your housekeeper, Mrs Donovan, found him in his chair just two days ago. The doctor thinks it was his heart.”

  “No.” Johanna shook her head. “Not Ellis.”

  Georgina glared at her mother. They should never have stayed away so long.

  The carriage turned from the street into the Wiltshires’ front yard, where a track covered in gravel swept in a curve to their front door. Charles brought the horse to a stop and was quickly beside the carriage to help them down. He guided his sobbing mother inside and Henry took Johanna’s arm. Georgina was left to trail behind. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest and all other sounds faded as if she were in a bubble.

  Charles came back to take her arm and she let herself be led to a chair in the Wiltshires’ sitting room. Their housekeeper was there pouring cups of tea. Mr and Mrs Wiltshire were missing; it was Charles who made sure they were comfortable. There was no conversation. Georgina turned to her mother, who sat as if in a trance, all colour gone from her face, her own new hat slightly askew. The cup of tea beside her sat untouched, as did Georgina’s.

  Henry joined them. He murmured something to the housekeeper, who left, then he sat beside Johanna. He took both her hands in his and rubbed them gently. “Catherine will be back to sit with you soon. You know we held Ellis in high regard. Whatever we can do to help, you can count on us.”

  Johanna looked at him. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

  “I think the ladies should drink their tea, Father.” Charles picked up the delicate cup and saucer from beside Georgina and put it in her hands. “This has been a terrible shock for you.”

  Georgina raised the warm cup to her lips and sipped the sweet black tea. It slid down her throat, spreading warmth through her chilled body. She watched as Henry helped her mother do the same. The room was quiet except for the rustle of fabric, the soft chink of cup on saucer, the tick of the large clock on the mantel. Soft footsteps sounded outside and the door opened; Catherine came in. Although still pale she was composed. She crossed the room, placed a gentle hand on Georgina’s shoulder then went to sit on Johanna’s other side. She took the teacup and saucer Henry had been trying to coax Johanna with and urged her friend to sip the tea.

  Henry got to his feet. “Perhaps we should leave you ladies for a while.”

  “I must see him.” Johanna had found her voice.

  “Of course you shall,” Catherine soothed.

  “We were not sure of your wishes. Mrs Donovan has …” Henry cleared his throat “… taken care of him and I have the undertaker on standby. It was just as well you were due home today. The funeral will need to take place soon. Would you like me to arrange for him to be brought here? He could be buried in the Hawker cemetery.”

  “I … I …” Johanna looked from Henry to Georgina. “I don’t know.”

  “You need to rest.” Catherine put down the cup and took her friend’s hand. “I’ve had Mrs Nixon make up a room for you. Things will be clearer in the morning. You may stay as long as you wish.”

  Henry cleared his throat again. “We can’t wait too long, Catherine,” he murmured. “It’s already been two days.”

  Johanna hunched forward and began to sob. Catherine wrapped her in her arms while Henry stepped from foot to foot.

  Georgina could stand it no longer. Her mother had lost all sense of direction. It was up to Georgina to take charge now. “Thank you for your kindness, Mr and Mrs Wiltshire. We will stay just to catch our breath. Then we must return to Prosser’s Run. Father would want to be buried there.”

  “But you will not make it home before dark, even if you leave now,” Catherine said.

  “We often have to camp overnight between here and home, Mrs Wiltshire.”

  Charles, who had remained silent since first offering the tea, stepped forward. “I will come with you.”

  Georgina took a good look at Charles for the first time since their arrival. She’d noticed how much taller he was but he was also stronger: she’d felt it in the arm he’d put around her to guide her inside. She was six years older and yet she felt small beside him now.

  He smiled, a gentle curve of his lips, though with sorrow in his eyes. “I will do whatever I can to help you through this terrible time.”

  Georgina was determined she would not be dependent on a man but she took his suggestion as a genuine offer. She glanced at her mother. Her sobs had ceased, but she was staring vacantly as if she were no longer in the room. There would be no help there.

  “Thank you, Charles.” Georgina felt strength return. “I think it would be best if Mother stays here a little longer, but I would like to set off for home as soon as possible.”

  “I will look after Johanna,” Catherine said.

  Georgina glanced down past the huge leg-o-mutton sleeves of her maroon and white striped dress to the skirt, which floated out around her in thick folds. Her mother had insisted on her buying it before she left London. Now the tight S-bend corset was cutting her in half and the style of her outfit was both out of place and impractical in Hawker. Their tour now felt like a frivolous indulgence, and the life she’d led for nearly two years was receding from her mind. She was thankful that she had convinced her mother to allow her to buy some of the new-style tailor-made suits that were now in her trunk.

  “My smaller case has something more practical for horse travel.”

  “All of your luggage should be here soon,” Henry said.

  “Would you like me to drive you to Prosser’s Run in our carriage?” Charles asked.

  “I’d prefer to ride if I can borrow a horse. Mother can come out in the carriage in a day or so.”

  “I’ll arrange it,” Charles said.

  Georgina sucked in a breath then let it out softly. “You’ve all been very kind.” She turned to Henry. “I’d like to meet with the undertaker before I leave, Mr Wiltshire.”

  “Of course. I will send for him straight away.” Henry gave Georgina a thoughtful look. “Why don’t I send the driver and wagon on the way to Prosser’s Run now? Then he will be ahead of you and he can set up camp along the way so you will have somewhere to rest tonight. I will make sure he has something for you to eat and you can set off again at first light.”

  Georgina tried to keep her emotions in check. All this kindness was undermining her resolve to stand on her own two feet. “Thank you.”

  Henry made for the door. As he opened it a sweet little face peeped around the frame. “Laura, you must go back to Mrs Nixon.”

  The little girl evaded her father’s hands and made a dash across the room for her mother.

  “Is this baby Laura?” Georgina felt a small lift of spirits at the distraction.

  Catherine put one arm around her small daughter and hugged her close. “Yes, this is Laura.”

  “She’s not a baby any more.” Charles frowned at his little sister.

  Georgina was not particularly entranced by small children but she was surprised by his gruff tone. “She’s such a pretty little thing.”

  Henry strode back across the room and scooped his daughter high into the air. She became a squirming giggling bundle of white frills and lace. “We celebrated her second birthday just last week.”

  “How lovely.”

  They all turned to look at Johanna, who had lifted her hands towards Laura.


  “May I hold her?”

  Henry lowered his daughter gently to Johanna’s lap.

  Catherine held Laura’s hand. “She can be shy with people she doesn’t know.”

  As if to discredit her mother’s words, Laura stared up into Johanna’s face, then she gently put her two little hands on the woman’s cheeks and smiled.

  “Oh,” Johanna whispered. “What a darling girl.”

  Beside her Georgina heard Charles exhale sharply. She looked at the Wiltshire parents gazing adoringly at their little girl and had to bite her lip to stop the sudden sob that surged up her throat. She was all alone. Her big strong father was dead and her mother, lost to Georgina in her grief, was finding solace in a child’s smile. An arm went around Georgina’s shoulder and she looked up into Charles’s caring gaze. He was little more than a boy and could be irritating and arrogant, but right now she could do with a friend. She gave him a grateful smile.

  Fifteen

  May 1898

  William reined in his horse at the end of the track that led to the Prossers’ homestead. He took a deep breath and cast a look around the yards and stone buildings that skirted the fence constructed around the house. There were horses in a yard further beyond it, some milking cows chewing on some blue bush branches that had been placed in their enclosure, and the usual birds flitting between the leaves of a large gum over his head, but there was no sign of human life.

  He had arrived back at the Smith’s Ridge house late the day before to find a travelling hawker sharing the news: Ellis Prosser was dead from a bad heart and his funeral had been that day. The two Prosser ladies had arrived home just in time to attend. William’s own heart had both leaped and bled at the news. He was excited Georgina was home at last but saddened for her at the loss of her father. It had been too late to ride to Prosser’s Run then. He’d slept fitfully then risen when the sun was only a smudge of light on the horizon to wash and dress in his good shirt and set out for Prosser’s Run. The tatty emerald ribbon was in his pocket and with the bunch of wildflowers Jessie had gathered in a calico bag attached to his saddle, he’d made the distance between their two homes in good time.

  Today he was nervous. He hadn’t seen Georgina in so long and hadn’t had a letter for several months. What if she had changed her mind about her feelings for him? He glanced around once more. All was quiet. He might have thought no-one was home but for the puffs of smoke he could see from the kitchen chimney. He knew that part of the house. Ellis had twice invited him into the kitchen for a cup of tea before the journey home back in the days when the older man had been sharing his knowledge of cattle. Now William walked his horse towards the front of the house, where there was a low verandah. He dismounted and patted his horse’s neck. Big Red was a fine animal and the offspring of the same mare and stallion who had produced Bella. But he would not mention the mare today. There was much to share and discuss, so many things he longed to tell her, but today was about offering support in her sorrow. He tethered Big Red to a rail beside a water trough, slid the flowers from the calico bag and walked across the last short piece of dirt to the gate.

  The hinges squeaked loudly behind him as he shut it again. His footsteps crunched up the rocky path and echoed across the wooden verandah. Everywhere around him there was silence.

  He lifted his hand to knock at the door but it opened. His heart thumped. There before him stood Georgina. Her red hair was swept back from her face and pinned up at the back in a mass of curls. She wore a black skirt in a much straighter style than he was used to seeing and a soft grey blouse that buttoned to a small collar that stood up around her neck. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

  “Hello, William.” She was the first to break the silence that hovered around them like a blanket.

  He swallowed, suddenly awkward, not knowing what to say. He thrust the flowers towards her. “I’ve come to offer my condolences. My family all send their sympathy … to you and your mother.”

  She took the bunch without looking at the arrangement of bright pink and white flowers.

  “The flowers were gathered by Jessie, my—”

  “Mother is still in bed.” Georgina lifted her chin and pulled back her shoulders. “We held the funeral two days ago.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it.” William hadn’t exactly expected her to fall into his arms but he thought she might show some sign of pleasure at his arrival. Instead she was stiff and unwelcoming. “I’ve been working at the far side of Smith’s Ridge, building fences. I only heard about … I only got the news on my return last night.”

  “You must be tired.” Neither Georgina’s voice nor her face gave away any emotion. “Would you like a cup of tea before you leave?”

  William’s heart thumped. “I had hoped …” The words died on his lips as one of her eyebrows raised and she gave him a hostile look. He shook his head. He knew grief did strange things to people but he hadn’t been expecting this. “I don’t want to bother you.”

  “Which is exactly what you’re doing.”

  William was stunned by the sight of Charles Wiltshire coming to a stop beside Georgina. He had the appearance of a boy who had just climbed from his bed and quickly pulled on his clothes.

  “You promised you would stay in bed and rest this morning, Georgina.” He put a hand on her shoulder.

  William thought he saw a small flash of irritation in her eyes but she turned her face towards Wiltshire. “I couldn’t sleep. There is much to do.”

  William couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The younger man’s hand on her shoulder was possessive, intimate. “If there is anything I can do …”

  Georgina glanced back at him and this time her face registered the pain of her loss.

  “Thank you for coming. I’ll tell Mother you were here.” She slipped from under Charles’s hand and disappeared into the house.

  “We’re managing fine thanks, Baker.” Charles curled his lip. “We don’t need anything from your kind of people.”

  William’s fists clenched at his sides. “What do you mean, my kind of people?”

  “Native lovers. Not worthy of decent folk like the Prossers and the Wiltshires.

  “You arrogant pup.” William’s voice exploded.

  Wiltshire simply laughed.

  Disbelief and anger surged through William at seeing this young upstart by Georgina’s side. He recalled all the times the Wiltshires had besmirched his family with their snide remarks and smug smiles and then he remembered the punch Charles had given him before Georgina left.

  Charles’s hand shot forward to push William in the chest. William’s reaction was swift. He landed his own punch, right on Wiltshire’s nose.

  Charles staggered backwards, one hand to his face, the other clutching at the wall. He stared at William in horror.

  “You bastard,” he bellowed.

  William watched as blood seeped from around Wiltshire’s fingers and trickled down his chin.

  “What’s happened?” Georgina was back. She took in Charles’s bloodied face and turned to William. “Did you hit him?”

  William rubbed the palm of his hand over his sore knuckles. “I did.”

  Charles groaned and leaned heavily against the wall. “A sneaky punch, that’s all. Caught me off guard.” The words came out muffled by his hand.

  William couldn’t help but smirk. Then he saw the anger in Georgina’s eyes and the humour left him. She reached for the door handle.

  “You should go,” she said and firmly closed the door in his face.

  William had plenty of time to think on the journey home. He cursed his stupidity for hitting Wiltshire, even though the smart-mouthed brat deserved it. William shouldn’t have lost his temper but he couldn’t deny the part of him that had enjoyed wiping the smile off Wiltshire’s face. The only problem was Georgina’s open disgust with his behaviour.

  William shook his head. He didn’t understand any of it. He’d set off that morning expecting to offer his condolences and
be welcomed by Georgina. He’d hoped to have the opportunity to tell her how much he loved and had missed her, offer her any assistance he could, but she’d been distant right from the start. And what was Wiltshire doing there, looking as if he belonged?

  When he reached the top gate, a small gap in the fence that divided their properties, William stopped to drink some water. He stood in the scattered shade of some ragged gum trees and looked back in the direction of the Prosser’s Run homestead. It wasn’t visible, of course, but he pictured Georgina’s sad, beautiful face and his heart ached more. He took the ribbon from his pocket and slipped it through his fingers. It had lost some of its colour and was tatty on the ends, and there were a couple of stains where it had been ground into the mud by Wiltshire’s boot, but it was the same emerald green ribbon William had bought for Georgina all those years ago.

  He held out his hand and a gust of wind blew it to the ground, the green bright against the brown and red of rock and soil. How stupid he’d been to believe she would wait for him. Once more he glanced in the direction of her home. The day had turned murky. There was dust in the air. He should ride north along the fence and check the bottom waterhole. It still held water and was just beyond the fence line. With a purpose now he bent to retrieve the ribbon and took it to the fork of the nearest tree. He wound it tightly between two branches then stepped back and looked at the bow. If he were ever tempted to cross this point it would be a painful reminder to keep away. William shut the gate, mounted his horse and turned his back on the gusting wind and Prosser’s Run.

  Georgina bathed the blood from Charles’s face and gave him a cool cloth to press to his nose. The whole time he muttered about William and his lucky hit. Georgina murmured and soothed but she was numb inside. Since the news of her father’s death and her mother’s inability to deal with even the simplest things, Georgina had taken charge. She had been grateful for the help Charles offered but the day before, as Henry was preparing to leave, he had delivered more devastating news. It had been another terrible blow to hear of her father’s supposed treatment of a shepherd and that he had been preparing to appear before the magistrate.