Enduring Love (27 page)

Dalton’s forehead creased. “Here’s something else.” He cleared his throat and read from another letter,
“We’ll soon have what
we came for. Only a few more weeks and we’ll possess more wealth
than we ever dreamed possible. Then we’ll be on our way just as
we planned. John has no idea.”
Dalton looked at Hannah, grief registering in his eyes.

“That woman has no heart!” Hannah could feel the threat of tears. How could anyone be so cruel?

“Do you have any notion what wealth she’s referring to?” Dalton asked.

“None whatsoever. We never had much. I can’t imagine.”

They quickly scanned the rest of the letters, hoping to discover more specifics, but there was just more of the same. Discouraged, they returned the letters to the box and set it back in its place in the armoire.

“That man is a scoundrel of the worst sort,” Lydia sputtered when she heard what Dalton and Hannah had discovered. “And Margaret—she’s worse than a scoundrel. I can’t even say what I think of her.”

Hannah fumed over Margaret, but she was also angry with herself. She’d nearly done nothing.
How like me. If not for Lydia’s
insistence . . .

“We’ve got to tell John,” Lydia said.

“Yes. But they’ve some sort of scheme worked out,” Hannah said. “We need to find out what it is.”

The room turned quiet, and then a smile touched Lydia’s lips. “I’ve an idea.”

Hannah knew Lydia well enough to know it could be outrageous. “I don’t know that I like your tone.”

“It’s nothing terrible,” Lydia reassured her. “We can do to Margaret what we’ve done here. She may have the information we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve got to have a look at her papers as well. She may have letters from Mr. Douglas.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Dalton asked. “It’s not as if we won’t be noticed driving up to the farm.”

“I can invite her to tea.” Lydia’s eyes gleamed. “It’s time we got better acquainted, don’t ye think?”

“She knows you don’t like her.”

“Yes, but she’s so vain, she’ll most likely believe that even I’d enjoy spending time with her.” She smirked. “I can let her believe that I want to mend fences . . . since John is such a dear friend. And while we’re having tea, you and Dalton can pay a visit to the farm.”

Hannah could feel the muscles tighten in her abdomen. “All right. When?”

“I’ll send her a note the minute we get back.”

“And what of John? What if he’s there?”

“He ought to appreciate our concern,” Lydia retorted.

“We can’t say anything, not just yet. We need to know more.” Hannah rubbed her temples, hoping to massage away a throbbing headache. “He’s usually somewhere on the property and not at the house.”

“All right, then. Ye can go during the day . . .” Lydia smiled. “The day I’m having tea with Margaret.”

John gave Margaret a hand up onto her horse and then swung into his saddle. She arranged her skirts so as not to look improper. “It’s been some time since I’ve ridden. I feel a bit peculiar perched up here.”

“Riding sidesaddle is unsuitable for this country. You can ride astride, I won’t mind a bit. Hannah used to and said it made riding much easier and felt steadier.”

“That may be, but it’s outrageous and unladylike.”

Margaret’s smug tone grated on John, but he said nothing. He remembered how he’d tried to convince Hannah to ride sidesaddle, convinced it was proper. He hadn’t wanted her to appear indecent in public. His reputation is what he’d been thinking of. The memory of his egotism shamed him.

“You ride as you like, but astride is safer.” He leaned forward just a bit and gently kicked his horse in the sides. As the animal broke into an easy canter, Margaret prodded her mount and moved alongside him.

“I figure it’s time you saw a bit more of the farm,” he said.

“Isn’t it an estate? It seems quite large.”

“I’d not call it something so grand as that, but I’ve acquired a good deal of land. One day perhaps we will be able to call it an estate.”

Margaret smiled at him. “I look forward to that day. It will be grand, indeed.”

They cantered across the fields, then slowed to a walk. “When Hannah and I first moved here, we had only fifty acres.”

“Truly? That’s all? How did you manage to acquire so much, then?”

“When I moved onto this piece, I hoped one day that the adjoining property would come up for sale, so I saved what I could. When it came available, I bought it.”

“How much land is there?”

“Nearly two thousand acres. I’ve payments to make, but as long as the farm continues to do well, I’ll have no problem with that.”

“Who owned it before you?”

“A man living in Sydney Town. He never moved out here, though. Returned to England to care for ailing parents.” John moved his hat so the brim shaded his eyes. “Took nearly every cent I had, but it was worth it. Without the extra ground, I’d never have been able to build the kind of farm I’ve always wanted.” He gazed out over the open fields, golden and baking beneath the summer sun.

“It’s beautiful,” Margaret said. “However, I’ve still not adjusted to the weather. It’s much hotter than England, and this time of year I’m used to it being cold. Seems strange having sweltering heat for the holidays. It shan’t feel like Christmas at all.”

“You’ll adjust.”

Margaret sighed. “I miss the green of England and the distractions of London.”

“I thought you were done with all that.” Disappointment and then suspicion crept inside John.

“I am. Absolutely. But sometimes a bit of revelry would be nice.” She smiled sweetly and added, “You know I’d never trade the frivolous life of London for what I have now. I adore being with you.”

John warmed to her affection. He and Margaret may not share the kind of love he’d had with Hannah, but given time it might grow. “We have a fine future here, together—a family and—” “John, if you want a family, you’ll have to move back into the house,” Margaret said with a mischievous smile.

Embarrassment warmed John’s face. “I suppose you’re right.” Although he knew it was time to commit fully to Margaret, the idea of it made him feel unfaithful to Hannah. “I’ll be gone a few days to purchase cattle . . . when I return, I’ll move back in.”

Margaret reached across the space between them and took his hand. “I’ve so longed to hear you say that.”

John felt a flicker of affection and squeezed her hand.
I’ve got
to put Hannah out of my mind. My life is with Margaret now.

“Will you be traveling near Sydney Town?” Margaret asked.

“It would be quite out of my way.”

“Oh. I was hoping you might possibly stop at my solicitor’s. It seems he has papers I need to sign. Something to do with my parents’ estate. I hate to travel to Sydney Town, the road is so appalling.”

“There’s always the river.”

“That’s true. But the barges are quite primitive.”

“Maybe so, but at least it’s a peaceful mode of travel.”

“It’s dreadfully humid. And you know how bad the bugs can be.” Margaret peered at him from beneath the brim of her hat, her brown eyes beseeching. “Please, would you mind?”

“I’ll go, but it will have to be another day,” John said. “I thought all the affairs of your parents’ estate had been taken care of.”

“It seems my brothers have decided to sell off more of the family property, and they are kindly sharing the profits.”

“I see. And who shall I speak to?”

“Weston Douglas.” She smiled. “I’ve inherited a tidy sum. It will be a great help to us and the farm.”

“I’ll speak to him, but I’d rather you accompanied me.”

“Go with you to buy cattle?”

“We could drive them back together.”

Margaret shook her head. “I dearly love your company, but I truly don’t want to follow a mob of beef all the way from Sydney Town—the dust and flies would be frightful.”

John nodded, remembering how much fun he and Hannah had when they’d herded sheep together. “Fine. You’ll just have to tell me where to find him.”

“I’ve the address. As my husband, you can sign any document for me.”

“I know the law says that, but I’d rather you see what has to be signed.”

“I trust you implicitly.”

“All right, then. But I’ll make sure you have copies so that you’re abreast of what’s happening with your holdings.”

“Of course. That’s very kind of you.” She pulled back on the reins and her horse tossed its head, fighting the restriction. “When do you think you’ll be going?”

“After I get back with the cattle. Possibly next week.”

“Fine. That will be just fine.”

20

Hannah dusted the windowsill of an upstairs bedroom, then stopped and looked out over the Atherton estate. Brown fields and hillsides cooked beneath a December sun. Her mind flashed back to London Decembers. They’d been nothing like this. Icy patterns glistened on windows and freshly fallen snow lay in mounds along the roads. Too quickly the white blanket would turn black from churning wagon wheels and the soot of countless belching chimneys.

This is better
, she told herself, fighting nerves. Today Lydia would meet with Margaret while she searched John’s house. When Lydia had told her it was all set, she’d seemed almost gleeful, especially over Margaret’s presumption that Lydia truly desired a friendship with her. “I’d rather die,” Lydia had said. Then with a smile added, “This will be a sweet revenge. I can barely wait to see the look on her face when we confront her.”

Hannah hadn’t said anything. She knew it was necessary to find out just what Margaret was up to. But nothing about this situation pleased her. The idea of deceiving someone, including a person like Margaret, set her on edge. It wasn’t her way. She’d always admired her mother’s compassion and gentleness and wanted to be like her.

Sometimes there are circumstances that call for punitive justice
, she told herself to bolster her resolve.

She opened the window, hoping a bit of air would freshen the bed chamber. It was time to go. She headed for the laundry room, where she’d leave the well-used dusting cloth.

She’d lied to Mrs. Atherton, saying she needed the day off to run errands and to visit Lydia. Catharine, in her usual way, kindly gave her permission.
I wish I were running errands.
Her stomach flip-flopped.
Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea.

What else could be done? John deserved to know the truth. If she could help to unearth it, then the risks were worth taking.

Clutching the cloth in her hands, she hurried down the staircase. Was there any possibility that Margaret was innocent? Hannah hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to be unjustly charged with an offense. The thought sent shivers through her.
No. I’m right, and she doesn’t deserve my pity or tolerance.
And this is different. I’m not trying to do harm, I want to help.
Although she didn’t know what else Margaret might be up to, at the very least, she was an adulteress. The letters to Weston Douglas proved that. Under normal circumstances, Hannah would consider it none of her concern, but this involved John, and that changed everything.

Mrs. Goudy stood at a sideboard, kneading bread dough, when Hannah walked into the kitchen. Anxious to be on her way, she moved to the washroom.

“And why are you in such a hurry this morning?” Mrs. Goudy asked.

“I’m not. Just need to make a trip into Parramatta.”

“Oh, well, isn’t God good?” She smiled. “I was just thinking I needed some cinnamon. I’ve not enough for the apple cake I promised the Athertons. Could you pick up a bit for me?”

Hannah stopped. She’d not figured on anything like this.
I
should have known to be quiet about going into town
. “I . . . I’ll see if there’s any available,” she stuttered. “The last time I was in Parramatta, the store was waiting on a shipment of spices.” Inwardly she cringed—another lie.

“No cinnamon? Hmm. That’s unusual. I’ve never had difficulty getting it before.”

Hannah shrugged. “I suppose there may be a lot of people wanting cinnamon, what with Christmas coming on.”

“I suppose so.”

“I’ll ask for you.”