Dark Torment (39 page)

“Believe me, ma’am, I don’t want to profane your
sacred house any more than you want me to,” Dominic growled at Lydia as
Sarah, feeling stronger by the minute as her temper mounted, turned to confront
her stepmother. In her unbecoming blue gingham dress, now muddied to the knees,
and with her hair pulled back into a bun as she usually wore it, Sarah looked
no different from the young woman who, before her abduction, had borne
Lydia’s airs and megrims and verbal attacks without retaliating. Except
for her eyes, which were flashing golden fire, and the snap in her voice as she
told Lydia to move out of the way.

“Or I will knock you on your backside!” Sarah
promised.

Lydia gasped, one hand flying to her mouth. Liza’s eyes
seemed to bulge from their sockets. Jagger looked even more alarmed, Mrs.
Abbott chortled and quickly turned it into a cough, and Sarah could have sworn
that even Dominic’s grim lips twitched a little. She ignored them all,
fixing her stepmother with a menacing stare. That look said that she was no
longer a motherless little girl to be bullied and broken and finally despised.
She was a woman, ready to fight for herself if necessary—and for her man.

“Your father will have something to say about this!”
Lydia hissed even as she retreated. It was defeat, and both she and Sarah knew
it.

Sarah paid her no further mind, but gestured to Jagger to do as
she had bidden him. He did, silent and scared—Sarah guessed he was hoping
that he would not be blamed for this day’s work. Dominic, tight-lipped,
suffered himself to be helped upstairs and bestowed on the bed in the blue
bedroom.

“And if you don’t stay put I’ll have you tied to
the bed,” she warned him, still feeling militant. He glared at her,
mouthing an obscenity that should have shamed her into silence. But fortunately
he was too weak for anything but talk. She ignored him, not even blushing as
she turned to Mrs. Abbott and directed that Madeline be fetched to tend his
wound. In the meantime, Jagger could help Dominic bathe and, if Mrs. Abbott
would provide a nightshirt, get him into bed.

“If he gives you, or Madeline, any trouble, tie him to the
bed,” was Sarah’s last instruction to Jagger before she left the
room. Her strength was rapidly ebbing, her head was beginning to pound, and she
knew that if she did not lie down again she would fall down. Dominic’s
curses echoed in her ears all the way back to her own bed.

As Lydia had prophesied, Edward did have something—many
somethings, most of them nearly as profane as Dominic at his worst—to say
about a convict in his house, being cared for and tended like a valued guest or
a member of the family. Lydia must have greeted him at the door with her tale
of his daughter’s simultaneous recovery and perfidy, because he came
bursting into her bedroom without even stopping to wash away the day’s
grime. He yelled and stomped and threatened, then yelled some more, while
Sarah, ensconced in her bed with an ice pack on her head, listened calmly, only
occasionally wincing as a particularly loud roar found its echo in her head.
Finally, when he threatened to have Dominic shot where he lay, Sarah
interrupted. She never raised her voice, but the cool determination in her eyes
made him stop yelling and listen.

“If you harm him in any way, if you even refuse to have him
in the house, I’ll leave, Pa, and never come back. And if the thought of
my leaving doesn’t particularly bother you, let me remind you that I keep
the books and pay the bills and run the house. And if I go, who will you get to
do it? Lydia?” There was a distinct sneer as she suggested her
stepmother, who both she and Edward knew would be horrified at the notion that
she should assume such duties, which she considered distinctly beneath the lady
of the house.

Her father stared at her without speaking for a moment. His hands,
which had been clenched into fists as he ranted and raved, slowly relaxed. The
red color that once would have alarmed her began to fade from his face.

“What do you mean, if the thought of your leaving
doesn’t bother me? Of course it bothers me! I’m your pa,
girl!” This was said testily, while he looked her over with a frown.

“Then you will let Dom—Gallagher stay in the house
until he’s well, and then see about getting his sentence commuted? As a
reward for saving my life, if you like. He is really not guilty, Pa.”

“I suppose he told you that?”

“Yes. And I believe him.”

Edward’s frown deepened. “Just what is this man to
you, daughter?” he asked, moving until he stood beside the bed looking
down at her.

Sarah felt color rising in her cheeks as she considered confessing
that she loved Dominic, but as she looked at her father she decided to wait.
The belligerence had left his stocky body. His gray eyes looked tired, almost
sad. Maybe she was being cowardly, but she thought such a traumatic
announcement was best saved for another time. Maybe, after he got used to
having Dominic in the house, he would be more amenable to the idea of her
marrying him.

“He has put himself at considerable risk for me more than
once,” she said. Then she went on to describe, with careful editing, how
Dominic had put his life on the line to protect her from the
bushrangers—whom he had just happened to encounter after the raid on
Lowella; she reminded him of that earlier incident with the escaped convict,
and finally of how Dominic had jeopardized his own safety and freedom to bring
her back to Lowella after she had been struck by that falling limb. When she
finished, Edward ran a hand through his thinning red hair and tugged on his
dusty, loosened cravat as if it had suddenly become too tight for him.

“Sarah—daughter, forgive me, but I must ask you: Did
that convict touch you?”

There was no doubt of his meaning. Sarah did not want to lie, but
on the other hand she was afraid the truth might send Edward into a towering
rage, and Dominic would suffer the consequences far more than herself. Then it
struck her: surely Edward knew what had happened between herself and Dominic
that night in the orchard. If he did not, why—and by whose
orders—had Dominic been punished? But if he did, why would he ask if
Dominic had touched her? He would already know the answer.

“Pa, tell me something,” she said slowly. “Did
you give an order for Dominic to be whipped at any time?”

Edward ceased his nervous movements and stared back at her.
“I don’t see what that has to do with my question, but the answer
is no. I had no reason to, to my knowledge.”

“He
was
whipped, Pa. Brutally, just before he ran.
And he was left to hang in a barn for days. If he hadn’t managed to
escape, he would probably have been allowed to die there.”

Edward’s gray eyes narrowed. “Did he tell you that,
too?”

“Yes. And it’s true. I saw the marks on his
back.”

The color was seeping from her father’s face. He moistened
his lips before answering. “I gave no such orders.”

“It must have been Percival,” Sarah said under her
breath.

“What?”

Sarah repeated herself.

“If so, then he did it on his own initiative. Although I
can’t believe he’d do such a thing without a good reason.”
Her father paused and looked at her hard. “Did he have such a reason,
Sarah?”

Sarah hesitated. Then she decided to take the plunge. “He
may have thought I was growing too fond of Dominic, Pa.”

She watched him as she spoke. He closed his eyes for a moment as
if in pain. When he opened them again, he looked suddenly old.

“And were you—are you?”

This time it was Sarah who moistened her lips. She hesitated, then
met his eyes with a calmness she didn’t feel.

“Yes, Pa.”

Nervously she waited for his reaction. But he did not bellow or
roar, as she might have expected. Instead, he seemed to wilt.

“Sarah, I know that since your mother died I’ve not
been the best of fathers to you. You look so like her, you see, that it hurt me
to look at you for a long time after she went. Then I married Lydia, and . . .
well, you know Lydia! She can he difficult. It just seemed easiest not to fight
her. I know you haven’t been as happy as you might have been, and the
fault for that is largely mine. What I’m trying to say is that I love
you, girl. I want what’s best for you in life. I’ll let the convict
stay in the house until he’s recovered if it will please you. And
I’ll even do my best to get his sentence commuted.”

“Oh, Pa!” she said, tears welling into her eyes as she
smiled up at him. He had not told her he loved her since she was a tiny girl,
and over the years she had come to believe he no longer did. Because she was
plain, and her sex a disappointment to him, when she knew he would have
preferred that his only child had been a son. But just now he had compared her
to her beautiful mother, and agreed to relax his long-standing prejudice
against convicts for her sake, and told her he loved her. . . . Edward
harrumphed loudly as the tears in her eyes glistened in the flickering light of
the candles by the bed, then abruptly sat down on the mattress and pulled her
into his arms. He hugged her quickly, while she hugged him back, the tears
rolling unchecked down her cheeks.

“My girl Sarah,” he said into her hair, sounding as if
he too was close to tears. “I know you’re a woman grown and capable
of making your own decisions. But, daughter, take a word of advice from your
father, who has lived a lot longer than you and has your best interests at
heart. You admit you’re fond of the man: he’s attractive to women,
I suppose, and I know you haven’t had too many beaus, though I would have
thought John . . . well, never mind that now. You know my feelings about
that.
But, Sarah, you listen to me, girl: never forget who you are and what he is.
Don’t get
too
fond of him. If you do, it will bring you nothing
but heartache. There’s no future for you with a convict. And I tell you
this out of love.”

He stood up as abruptly as he had sat down, and before she could
say anything he stamped noisily from the room. Like her, he was not used to
showing emotion, and it embarrassed him. Sarah stared after him, not knowing
whether to laugh or cry or curse, and ended up doing a little bit of both. He
loved her—but there was still a long, long way for him to go before he
would accept the idea that she was going to marry Dominic. In a way, she almost
wished he knew, as she had thought he must, that Dominic had been her lover. He
might still suspect, but she rather thought he preferred not even to speculate
on such an intimate subject concerning his daughter. But he had left her with
considerable food for thought. And think Sarah did, mulling over all he had
told her until at last she fell asleep.

It was the following afternoon before she felt well enough to
leave her bed again. Yesterday’s little jaunt and subsequent emotional
scenes, when she was still so weak, had taken more out of her than she had
realized. Upon wakening from a long and surprisingly restful sleep, her every
instinct urged her to go to Dominic at once. But her body just would not obey.
It obstinately insisted on remaining in bed, sipping tea and broth prepared by
Mrs. Abbott and brought up by Tess, and nibbling on triangles of toast while it
slowly regained its strength. Besides Tess, no one ventured into her
bedchamber, which piqued Sarah a trifle. She would have thought that Liza at
least would have popped her head in to inquire how she was doing. Despite their
differences, which Sarah knew were mainly Lydia’s doing, she was
genuinely fond of her stepsister, and thought Liza was fond of her as well.

The afternoon sun was shining in through the open windows when
Sarah at last swung her legs out of bed and attempted to stand. Her knees were
a little wobbly at first, but she made it to the window and stood looking out
for a moment while she waited for either Mary or Tess to respond to her
summons. The rain had brought the lush colors of the countryside to vivid life
again. The lawn was newly green, and while the tall eucalyptus trees guarding
the house were still bare-limbed, they looked somehow refreshed. The wattle
bushes had burst into glorious bloom; their sweet fragrance floated up to her
nostrils as she stood drinking in the soft, clean air. In the distance, the
mountains were a deep blue haze rising to touch the brighter blue of the
cloudless sky. Sarah smiled at the beauty of it. Then a light knock heralded
Tess’s arrival, and Sarah turned back into the room.

Tess shyly complimented her on the new beauty of her skin as she
helped her dress—an assistance that Sarah normally scorned but felt in
need of today. When at last her clothes were on and her hair was brushed and
styled, Sarah dismissed the girl, then with a critical eye regarded her
reflection in the cheval glass in one corner of the room. Despite the soft
shine of her hair and the glow to her skin that Tess had praised, Sarah saw
nothing new in the mirror. She was still the same tall, skinny, plain Sarah.
But her father had said she resembled her lovely mother, and Dominic had called
her beautiful. Sarah eyed her angular face—perhaps its too-prominent
planes and resulting pronounced hollows could be softened by a new hair style,
one that was less old-maidish than her prim bun. And her figure—dressed
in feminine, fashionable apparel, would it acquire the illusion of womanly
curves? Sarah remembered how fervently Dominic had insisted—and
demonstrated—that he liked her body just as it was, and blushed. She saw
how the rosy pink color flooding her cheeks emphasized the guinea gold of her
eyes, warmed her face, making it look almost girlish, and even seemed to
brighten the brown-gold of her hair; and for the first time she saw her own
possibilities. With the right clothes and hair style . . . But Sarah thought
glumly, she wouldn’t know where to begin. She imagined herself tricked
out in the tiers of pastel ruffles deemed fashionable by Lydia and Liza, and
felt a return of self-doubt. She would look ridiculous, she knew. Worse, she
was very much afraid she would look, as Mrs. Grainger had once said about
another old maid on the catch for a husband, like mutton trying to pretend it
was lamb. Sarah sighed, turning away from the mirror. There was no point in
wishing she were something she was not. She was a twenty-two-year-old spinster
of uncertain looks at best, in love with a man ten years her senior who had
undoubtedly made love to more women than he could count. And he was gorgeous,
too. But he had said he loved her and wanted to marry her. Sarah clung to that.