Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (289 page)

• • •

Aware that most children were early risers, Electra was down at breakfast before the clock struck eight. William had eaten earlier and left to see to his work before the heat set in. Charlotte, as expected, did not rise early. Isabele skipped in minutes after Electra, excited about their planned adventure.

Electra looked at Isabele’s pale blue dress with its delicately worked lace collar and ruching around the hem. “Goodness me, Isabele, how will you sit astride a saddle in all that finery. I think we will have to find something more serviceable. Besides, I don’t think the horse will care what you wear.”

Isabele giggled at Electra’s words. “You’re funny, Aunt Electra. But I must wear this, I have nothing else.”

Electra looked her up and down. “I think we might just be able to find some breeches from one of the farm lads.”

Isabele gasped in horror. “Mama will die if I wear breeches.” A slow grin spread across her face. “But of course I must, otherwise how can I ride a horse?”

Half an hour later, Electra and Isabele rode across the north paddocks of Riverside. It was obvious Isabele was not an experienced rider as her body bounced inelegantly in the saddle. She wore a straw hat for the sun and Electra had tied a yellow scarf around the waist of the smallest breeches Annie could find. They stopped for a picnic morning tea and paddled in the cool stream with Isabele squealing as tiny fish nibbled at her toes.

Neither had spoken for some time when Isabele took a deep breath and Electra turned expectantly toward her.

“I thought I was going to hate you, Aunt Electra.” Electra raised her eyebrows but let the girl continue. “Mama said we would come to Australia and take Uncle Will back with us so we wouldn’t be so lonely in the castle anymore. Then when we saw he had a wife, it felt like you had ruined everything for us.”

“And now?” asked Electra.

The child poked at the ground with a stick as she thought over her answer. “I don’t know what will happen. I only know I am having the most fun today ever, and for the first time in ages I have not felt lonely.”

Electra frowned. “You must have lots of friends at home to play with, and what about on the ship coming over? Were there no children there either? And what about your mother, surely you are company for each other?”

Isabele flashed a long-suffering look at Electra. “I am hardly ever allowed to play at home. I am tutored all morning, and in the afternoon, I must do needlework or read. Sometimes we go to London to shop but mama enjoys that, not me. There were children on the ship but I was not allowed to associate with them, and as for mama and I being company for each other?” The little girl’s eyes filled with tears. “I truly think mama sees me as a nuisance and most probably wishes I was never born.”

“I cannot believe that for a moment, she loves you dearly,” said Electra putting her arm around the girl.

“No, that is what she wishes others to think but I heard her tell papa once that I should have been a boy because that is what she hoped for.” She poked more aggressively with the stick.

“Nonsense, you must have misunderstood.”

“I didn’t misunderstand.” She raised her eyes to Electra’s. “On the ship coming over she got very angry and told me if I had been a boy I could have inherited and been the earl and then she wouldn’t have to come traipsing halfway across the world — ,” she gasped putting a hand over her mouth, perhaps realising she had said too much.

Electra stopped herself from making a very angry and unladylike comment about the girl’s mother. Instead, she caught Isabele in her arms and tickled her. Then she ran to the stream, throwing sprays of cold water at the child until she laughingly joined in, splashing Electra until they were both soaked through.

They were packing up their picnic when Isabele asked another question. “Aunt Electra, do you think Uncle Will would know why my papa was always too busy to spend time with me? Do you think it’s because men don’t like children much?”

Electra’s heart constricted. It seemed Charlotte and the earl virtually ignored the little girl; Isabele was isolated from other children and forced to live a replica of a dull adult existence. Further, she had been made to feel it was her fault she was not a boy who could share interests with her father and eventually inherit the title and estate in William’s absence. What must her childhood have been like until now? Such a sad situation.

She bent over and turned Isabele to face her. “We never know what people are thinking. Mothers and fathers have so many problems of their own to deal with; sometimes they forget you are waiting for their attention. I am sure it was never intentional.”

Isabele shrugged. “Maybe.” She stood up and walked to her horse.

Their return was more leisurely in deference to Isabele’s aching body. The horse riding had tested muscles she never normally used. It was mid-afternoon and both were extremely hungry as they left the horses with the stable hand and made their way into the house.

“Wash up and change and we will have something to eat,” said Electra as they passed through the house.

“What on earth — ?” Charlotte appeared at the door of the drawing room as Isabele tried to slip up to her room to change. She grabbed Isabele by the arm and spun her around. “How dare you get about like a common street urchin? Get to your room and stay there!”

And as Electra tried to explain, Charlotte turned her back and walked into the room, back to the sofa she had been sharing with William.

Chapter Twenty

Electra sent a scalding look at her husband, spun around, and walked toward the kitchen. She did not miss the look of smug satisfaction that crossed Charlotte’s face. Electra’s fierce bravado was a cover for the suffocating heaviness in her chest at seeing them together. Tears burned her eyes and she swallowed back her fear that William would now redirect his emotions to the cool, beautiful Charlotte. After all, she was his first love, a love that haunted him for nearly ten years. Electra knew she could not compete.

She stumbled into the familiar, warm fug of the kitchen and sat on the little stool Mary used when chopping and kneading for Shi Liang. The little cook was nowhere to be seen. A pungent rabbit stew bubbled in a large pot over the fire, and the sharp tang of yeast drew her attention to freshly baked bread. She took a deep breath of the fragrant aromas and gagged as a sudden wave of nausea gripped her. She lurched to the door, taking great gulps of fresh air until it passed. This was ridiculous. To allow the woman to make her physically sick would play right into her cunning hands. Electra wiped the beads of perspiration from her forehead and pondered her next move.

First she would feed poor, chastised Isabele. Electra recalled her own childhood. Of days spent riding in the country and the insatiable hunger on her return. She looked dubiously back into the kitchen. Satisfied her nausea had passed, she retrieved a bowl and ladled the steaming stew into it. Next she broke off a chunk of the freshly baked bread, put them onto a tray and headed into the house. A quick glance into the drawing room revealed Charlotte sitting alone stabbing at her embroidery. William was nowhere to be seen.

Electra crept upstairs, careful not to be seen by Charlotte. She nudged the slightly ajar door open with her foot and carried the food into the room. Isabele lay across the bed, her body heaving with silent sobs. Electra cleared her throat and the child leapt to her feet, sucking back a sharp breath. When she saw who it was, she slowly exhaled and lowered herself back onto the bed.

“Oh! I thought it was mama. She gets ever so angry when I cry,” she hiccoughed, as a sob caught in her throat. Her eyes widened as she saw the bowl of stew in Electra’s hand. “You’ve brought some food. Am I allowed to have it? It smells wonderful.” She rubbed her hands impatiently on the coverlet of the bed, waiting for permission to eat.

“Of course you’re allowed to have it. I am not going to let you go hungry.” She leant over conspiratorially. “However, we mightn’t tell anybody about it. Is that all right?”

Isabele nodded, unable to speak as her mouth was already filled with the fragrant stew.

Electra sat on the bed beside her, trying to hide a grin as the child shovelled food into her mouth. Fresh air and physical activity had, as she suspected, given her a hearty appetite.

“Isabele? I know you might be very busy but I have a favour I would like to ask of you.” The child looked up, a dribble of rich gravy running down her chin. “I’m not sure if you are aware but our maid, Mary Buckley and one of William’s field hands, Sean Sullivan, are getting married on Christmas Eve.” Isabele shook her head. “There is so much to do, I could use some help. Do you think you might have time to help with the wedding?”

Isabele swallowed, her eyes widening. “Are you really going to organise a servant’s wedding? Mama never allowed the servants to marry as she said they would be too distracted with husbands and families to do their chores properly.”

A small niggle of doubt entered Electra’s mind. Perhaps it was wrong to introduce the child to such an unfamiliar world. Isabele was not hers, she had no right to influence this child. No matter how tempting it would be to irritate the vexing Charlotte.

She pulled Isabele’s hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear as the child continued eating. “Yes, you’re right, I did not think. Perhaps we had better not upset your mother further; I will find somebody else to help with the wedding.”

Isabele spluttered and coughed, nearly choking on a mouthful of rabbit meat. Electra grabbed the precariously balanced bowl, pushing it back onto the tray.

“No, Aunt Electra, you must let me help. The reason I was crying was because I had never had so much fun as I had today, and mama never allows me to do anything. I want more fun. Please say I can help. Please?”

Well, you only have yourself to blame for this one, Electra thought. What a pickle. How could anyone deny a child the fun and adventure of youth? How would she ever get Charlotte to agree to Isabele being part of a servant’s wedding? And what would William have to say about her encouraging Isabele to defy her mother?

There was a bright side to this. If it was too awful, Charlotte might leave. No sooner had the thought come to her than a strange sense of emptiness accompanied it at the image of the house without Isabele. In only one day, the little girl had wormed her way into Electra’s heart. She raised her eyes to Isabele’s expectant face.

“How about you start helping and if your mother is not happy, we will have to rethink your part in it?”

Isabele pursed her lips. “I suppose, but maybe I won’t say anything unless she asks.”

“Fair enough,” said Electra, taking the empty bowl from her. “Now wash and change, and I must do the same.” As she eased herself off the bed, Isabele suddenly jumped up and, standing on tiptoe, gave her a soft, stewy kiss. Without another word, the child then began to change her clothes.

Electra left the room, knowing her attachment to Isabele had just grown exponentially. This would only end in pain, one way or another.

• • •

Sean, Tom, and another of William’s workers had spent the past two weeks at the Hawkesbury River property, clearing land and beginning construction on one of the buildings. On Sean’s return, Mary put him straight to work preparing for the wedding.

Two days later, on Christmas Eve, Sean and two other field hands erected an archway in the front garden. Mary had once seen a wedding in a park where the bride stood under an archway of flowers and this had become her dream of the perfect wedding. Electra was only too happy for Mary’s dreams to come true. Now, with only hours to go, Electra watched Mary and Annie twist greenery through the arch and weave roses into the display. Molly Preston, who had now become a permanent part of Riverside, held the archway steady, calling out when the display lacked symmetry.

After the ceremony there would be a special Christmas feast for the workers of Riverside. It was a tradition William had established when he first arrived and, as he explained to Electra, the results far outweighed the cost. Unlike many of the convict workers on neighbouring farms, his workers were loyal, hard-working and honest.

On hearing there was to be a wedding of two convict servants and then a Christmas celebration involving all workers on the farm, Charlotte had taken to her bed with a cold compress. She wandered downstairs for meals and then returned to her room to read or rest. Rather than being concerned, Isabele was delighted as she could now take part in all the festivities without detection. Electra watched as she skipped in and out of the house, threw ribbons into trees, ran errands and in between, dashed into the kitchen to taste the latest offering from Shi Liang’s pots.

Electra turned away from the wedding preparations and caught sight of William standing near the wattle tree, also watching. Her heart skipped a beat and she clutched the top of a nearby chair to steady herself at the look of intense longing and sadness on his face as his eyes followed Isabele. Oh dear God, she thought, he wishes he was with Charlotte and that Isabele was his daughter. As if sensing her presence, William looked over and waved. Electra turned away, unable to respond.

• • •

All heads turned expectantly as Tom played a lilting rendition of the wedding march on his fiddle. There were tears in Mary’s eyes as she walked slowly toward a very nervous Sean. Pride and wonder shone from his eyes at the sight of his beautiful bride in her lemon muslin gown. Electra smiled as she remembered the excitement of having the gown made for Mary. The surprising conversation with the seamstress had not been as pleasurable.

They had gone into town for the final fitting. Mrs. Grenville handed Mary the gown and once she pulled it over her undergarments, she stared, transfixed, at her reflection in the mirror.

“Ooh mum, I look jes’ beautiful don’ I?” She twirled in a circle, hugging herself. “I wish me poor ma could see me now. She always thought I were jes’ a good-fer-nuffin’.” She heaved a sigh, “Never mind, I done all right. I got me a good man, my luv’ly Freddy and jes’ look at me eh?” She twirled again.