Read Farewell to Lancashire Online

Authors: Anna Jacobs

Tags: #Family, #Historical Saga

Farewell to Lancashire (41 page)

She realised her new mistress was speaking and tried to pay attention.

‘We’ll just have bread and ham tonight, I think,’ Mrs Southerham said. ‘And some fruit. We’ll eat it out here at the table. I’m looking forward to a cup of tea.’

They stared in surprise at the huge tin mugs she was setting out and the enormous tin teapot.

She pulled a wry face. ‘They aren’t very elegant, but one gets so thirsty here that ordinary cups and teapots are useless.’

They helped her as best they could and were soon enjoying the simple meal.

Reece and Cassandra took seats at opposite ends of the table and addressed not a word to each other. Pandora could have shaken them!

Bed, the sisters found afterwards, was a blanket on canvas laid on the bare earth, with another to cover them and two more blankets stacked nearby.

‘I don’t have any other pillows,’ Mrs Southerham said. ‘I’m sorry. We must see if we can get some feathers from somewhere and make pillows. I’ve given you extra blankets because it gets quite cool here during the night.’ She hesitated. ‘Will you be all right? I’ve found you a candle and some safety matches, in case you have to get up in the night, but please take care if you have to make a light. If the bush catches fire, it can destroy everything in its path.’

‘Yes, of course.’

When the two sisters were lying side by side in the darkness, looking at the shadows of branches cast by moonlight on the tent wall, Cassandra let out a long sigh.

‘Are you tired?’ Pandora asked.

‘Yes. Very.’ Silence then, ‘It was worse than I’d expected, being with Reece.’

‘You still love him, don’t you?’

There was no answer. But Pandora didn’t need one. It was clear to everyone how much those two cared for one another.

Reece walked slowly along in the moonlight to Kevin’s house. He was tired and soul-sick. Cassandra had barely spoken to him during their journey and yet he’d been aware of her every movement, even when he was driving and had his back to her.

The connection between them was still there, always would be. He’d not felt this deep a love for his wife. But what would it take to change Cassandra’s mind about marrying him? There was something so firm and obstinate about the way she held herself, the way she kept her lips pressed tightly together, the way she avoided him.

He saw a lantern shining on the veranda at Kevin’s and found the old man sitting outside smoking a pipe and waiting for him.

‘Saw the lights in the distance and knew you’d got back.’

‘Yes.’

‘How did it go in Perth?’

‘I had a few shocks and—’ His voice faltered and he suddenly found himself sitting on the rough bench, telling Kevin the whole sorry story, as if the old man was a second father to him. Second father! He’d hardly had a first one, because his own had died when he was still a lad. And if his cheeks were wet when he’d finished, there was no one to see that except a wise old man who accepted everything calmly, even his own failing body.

‘Give her time,’ Kevin said in the end. ‘It’s a great healer. The poor lass must have been hurt badly, first by those brutes and then by you. You did wrong to walk away from her, but I don’t need to tell you that, lad, do I? She’ll be needing peace and quiet to find herself again before she can think about you.’

‘Do you think I stand a chance?’

‘Who knows? If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. Fate has a way of twisting our lives as it wants, not as we’d prefer. I’d like to meet her, though.’

‘I’ll invite her and her sister to tea on Sunday.’

‘No, I’ll invite them. You just take the note I write. And give it to the sister, not her.’

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes then a yawn caught Reece by surprise. ‘It’s late. I’d better be getting to bed.’

‘I wonder if you’ll do me a favour tomorrow? I’m asking you now because you’ll be long gone when I wake up.’

‘Of course.’

‘Will you be giving the letter you’ll find on the table to Mr Southerham first thing tomorrow morning? I’ve a small favour to ask of him.’

Reece hesitated.

‘I know he’ll not want anything to do with an ex-convict, but I don’t think he’ll refuse a dying man’s wish.’


Dying?
You’ve some time left yet, surely?’

‘I hope so, but I’m getting steadily weaker. I’m grateful to have your company at this time, lad. I didn’t want to die on my own.’

Reece reached out to clasp his hand for a moment.

‘You need to get yourself to bed. You’ve a hard day’s work before you, I’m sure. That employer of yours is a fool. ’Tis you who’re running things, from what you say.’

‘Don’t tell
him
that! If he takes charge nothing will get done properly.’

Kevin chuckled and Reece was still smiling as he sought his bed. Poor Francis. A nice fellow, but such a dreamer. He’d never make a success of the farm on his own, and Reece didn’t intend to give up his own life to support the Southerhams. He was fretting already to finish his time as their servant.

21
 

T
he following morning Francis read the letter Reece had brought him from Kevin with some surprise, then showed it to his wife.

‘We can’t refuse a dying man’s wish,’ Livia said. ‘Let’s walk across there now, before it gets hot. It’s ages since I’ve really stretched my legs. We can’t see the house from here, but there’s a path marked already where Reece walks to and fro. I’ll just tell Cassandra where we’re going.’

They’re good workers, those girls, he thought, watching her speak to their new maids, who were conducting a washday under difficult circumstances. Every bucket of water had to be carried from the well. The tin washtub sat on an outdoor bench Reece had made and the two young women were rubbing away vigorously, chatting quietly as they worked.

Francis turned to study Reece, who was also watching the maids, or rather, watching Cassandra. He’d strung a line for the finished clothes and was now whittling rough pegs from narrow branches, using the dry, fallen wood. We didn’t even remember such mundane articles when we packed for our great adventure, Francis thought with a wry smile at his own inadequacies.

‘Leave the other tent till we get back,’ he called to his servant. ‘It’ll be easier to erect with two of us.’

A nod was his only answer.

Together Francis and his wife followed the faint path across the gentle slope on which both properties stood. They stopped from time to time to look at something, a lizard sunning itself on a rock, some pink and grey galahs screeching in the trees, a line of ants busily carrying debris away.

He kicked a piece of dead wood as if it was a ball and splinters flew everywhere. ‘It’s very different here, isn’t it? Not what I expected. It’s not a fit way of life for a lady. I’ve been a poor husband to you.’

‘We’re here now. And we agreed before we left: no regrets. You’re bound to get better in a warmer climate.’

‘I hope so.’

Her voice faltered for a moment. ‘And whatever happens, we shall make the best of it. It’s an adventure, after all.’

Her voice was calm, but he heard how bitter his own voice was. Well, he felt bitter. ‘Don’t pretend. I tried to be practical about this, I really did. But I’m put to shame by my own manservant, who always knows a better way of doing something. Only he’s planning for the time he can set up his own farm. What will you and I do then?’

‘We’ll find another servant.’

‘We didn’t even take the two convicts we were assigned because we didn’t like the looks of them. We’re not very practical. My love, you should have found yourself a better husband.’

‘I’ve never wanted anyone but you, Francis.’

She put her arms round him and they stood for a minute or two, close together, taking comfort from one another.

He was right about their situation, she thought. Francis was a dreamer. Neither of them had expected things to be this difficult, though. Farms to her meant green fields dotted with sheep or cows, rows of green plants, not a landscape like this, coloured by the beiges, browns and faded greens of an Australian summer. She took hold of his hand. ‘Well, let’s start moving again.’

Their neighbour was waiting on the veranda. He stood up and thanked them for coming, offering them seats, waiting till Livia had sat down before taking his own place, easing himself down into his chair like a man whose joints were painful.

Then he explained what he wanted.

As they walked back, Francis said thoughtfully, ‘Lynch was clearly a gentleman once.’

‘He’s a gentleman still, from his behaviour and speech.’

‘He’s an emancipist!’ His tone was scornful.

She hated to hear people scorn one another. ‘Are we to spurn half the population of this colony because of their past?’

‘We needn’t spurn them, exactly, but I don’t care to have my wife meeting such people socially.’

This attitude irritated her, but she knew she’d never change him. His family were of quite a high social status, compared to hers and he’d been bred with an innate sense of his own superiority to common persons.

She could have been friends with Cassandra, whom Francis considered merely
a maidservant
. Yet that young woman had a fine brain and was more interesting to chat to than any of the
ladies
Livia had known back home. She’d hoped to find a freer society here, and it was in some ways, but men like her husband had brought their prejudices with them and were trying to recreate the same sort of society as the one they’d left. And ladies seemed as circumscribed in what they could do as ever. That never failed to irritate her.

She wondered if they’d succeed with the farm. Seeing Reece, so capable and clever, comparing him to Francis, who flitted from one job to another without finishing any of them properly, she didn’t think they would, even if her husband’s health improved. Well, his family wouldn’t let them starve if the worst came to the worst.

They walked in silence for a few moments, stopping by mutual agreement when their own house came in sight again.

She’d been nerving herself to say something and what better time? ‘We’ll need to add another room or two before winter sets in, my love, or those boxes on the veranda will get wet. I know we agreed not to spend money unnecessarily, but ...’

‘We do need more space. I’ll turn my mind to it. I think the horses will do well enough in the bark shelter during the colder months. They don’t get frosts here, apparently. I’ll have to bring someone down from Perth to build extra rooms, I suppose.’

‘Did you notice that Mr Lynch’s house had rooms added on? Maybe Reece can find out from him how it was done. There may be someone nearby whom we can employ more cheaply.’

‘I suppose so.’ Francis waved away a fly. ‘Strange business, that. Must be awful to grow old alone, to have no family left – or at least none who will associate with you. Lynch looked very frail, didn’t he?’

‘Yes. I felt sorry for him. Couldn’t we invite him to tea sometime? He must get very lonely. It’s Christmas in four days. We must mark that.’

‘Livia, we can’t take on every lame dog we find. And he
is
an ex-convict, may I remind you. He’s paying the price for committing a
crime
.’

She sighed.

‘I’d take you up to Perth for the occasional trip, but we need to conserve what money we have, what with the building work. We already have one more mouth to feed than we’d planned, and when we do get our convicts – there must be some who do not look so villainous – there will be more still to feed.’

‘I couldn’t have left Cassandra on her own in a strange country. I just couldn’t.’

‘I know, and as long as those two can manage in the tent during the winter, it’ll be all right. The woman’s a worker and more than earns her daily bread, I’ll give her that. We can’t afford to build them a proper house, though, not this year. Perhaps Reece can make a bark shelter over the tent, something similar to what the horses have.’

She didn’t argue. At least he’d agreed to extend their shack. She’d ask Reece’s advice about the maids’ quarters when Francis wasn’t there. She didn’t want them suffering from cold or a dripping tent during the winter.

As the sisters continued with the washing, Cassandra said quietly, ‘You’re still homesick, aren’t you, Pandora?’

‘How did you know? I’ve never said anything.’

‘I know you better than most. You
are
homesick, aren’t you?’

‘A little. It’ll pass. What choice do I have but to stay here?’

‘You could go back to another part of England.’

‘On my own? Are
you
prepared to go back with me?’

‘I don’t know yet. I really like the warm weather here and the space. I didn’t think I would, but just look at it.’ She made a sweeping gesture towards the bush behind the house. ‘I like the unfamiliar trees and plants, the grey-green of the gum leaves, the fallen branches and leaves. It’s beautiful.’

‘Do you really think so? I don’t. It gives me the shivers. No neighbours for miles, except an old man. And people talk about bush fires. What would we do if one came through here?’

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