The Landowner's Secret Read online

  ‘Oh,’ she said, thinking that it was hard not to laugh after everything that’d just happened. What were they supposed to do next? The idea of getting up in the morning and putting on regular old clothes and going to breakfast like everything was normal was ridiculous.

  And how was she going to look at anyone now? Most would know what they’d been up to, and then … Did Elizabeth know about this sort of thing? Lord, she hoped Elizabeth didn’t know things like that about her own brother, and she decided to never discuss it with her.

  The thought of that conversation happening made her laugh again, and when Robert wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her up against him she turned her face into his shoulder and smiled against the crook of his neck.

  ‘If you’re worried,’ she told him earnestly, ‘I don’t think you did it wrong. Even if you did, I promise to lie for you if anyone asks.’

  He laughed outright at that, his arm tightening around her in appreciation before he let her go.

  ‘I certainly hope that is never a question that comes up in conversation.’

  He seemed happy enough to be flopped across the bed, and so Alice decided it must be over for the time being. She hadn’t any idea if a person only did it once a night, or more, but she’d just have to learn as they went on. She’d have thought it was only once, but he wasn’t sleeping yet and nor was she.

  Alice adjusted her position carefully, not wanting to bounce him around when he looked so relaxed. It was going to be unusual sharing a bed. Even in her little house she’d never had to share her lumpy old mattress with anyone.

  Robert grunted and then surprised her by gathering her back up against him, silently encouraging her to lay across his chest.

  She imagined that everyone else in the homestead was sleeping by now, and the men who worked the land all day and lived in the outbuildings would be long asleep, too. The window was cracked ever so slightly open and through it she heard the sounds of night: the chirp of some insect or another, and the soft rustle of breeze through leaves.

  It was only the two of them awake, and—after what they’d just done—it was surely the most personal she’d ever been with someone else.

  When did married people ever sleep if they had to fit in time for that as well as everything else that went into a day?

  That brought on a new worry. ‘I’m supposed to stay in here tonight?’

  Robert shifted underneath her, dislodging her from the spot she’d claimed against his chest, pushing up high enough to give her face a thorough inspection. Alice was well glad of the low light, because she knew immediately she’d said something else silly and wrong.

  ‘I wasn’t planning on forcing you, if you’d rather have your space. Your old room is—’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly, sensing she’d given him entirely the wrong idea. ‘No, I meant—well, Mister Farrer, that I wasn’t … I forgot to find out earlier if I’m supposed to stay here.’

  Those arms went back around her, and with a little encouragement she was laying across him again.

  ‘I’d rather not be addressed so formally in bed,’ he said, sounding amused about it. ‘My Christian name will do nicely. And yes, I think you should stay. I want that.’

  ‘I don’t think I snore.’ She would surely have been told by her father or her brother at some point.

  She felt his smile against the tangles of her hair. So much for those careful curls Mrs Adamson and Bessie had been so intent on fixing for her that morning.

  ‘That’s good to know. I don’t think I do, either, if you’re concerned.’

  No, she couldn’t imagine he’d be a snorer, but even if he was, Alice reckoned she’d be happy to share the bed with him all the same.

  ‘One good thing about me—my size is that I won’t use up much of the mattress.’

  ‘You might be a restless sleeper. Throwing yourself around and stealing all the covers—and the space.’

  ‘I’ll try and stay still then.’

  ‘Take as much space as you need. If it becomes a bother, I’ll simply rearrange you.’

  ‘I’ll try all the same.’

  ‘The deal is already sealed, Alice. You’ve no need to sell yourself to me.’

  She decided to stop arguing. Winter was on top of them, so it might make sharing a bed … cosy …

  ‘The first time is always a little awkward—uncomfortable, perhaps,’ he said, and it took her a couple of moments to realise what he meant.

  ‘I suppose I’ll get the hang of it soon enough.’

  She might not understand why people did … that, what they’d just done together, all the time, with all the rolling and funny noises—and the poking—but she could understand that touching part. That’d been nice. She’d rarely had anyone touch her in her life before.

  Robert’s chest expanded and relaxed underneath her, and if she pressed her ear a little further down she might hear the steady beat of his heart. It was amazing to think that until an hour ago she’d only ever seen him with a collar up to his earlobes.

  ‘You can ask questions, you know,’ he said.

  ‘I think I’ll be savin’ those questions for another time.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  ‘I am,’ she said immediately.

  Right before sleep pulled her under, Alice couldn’t help but wondering who Robert Farrer had been behind the church hall with in his life before. Not Annie Wilson, for certain, but there had to have been someone.

  Chapter 13

  ‘Tell me about England,’ Alice asked as she and Robert walked arm in arm down Monaro Street, completely respectable and happy as they had ever been together.

  ‘What in particular do you want to know?’

  It wasn’t the first time she’d asked him the question, and he’d come to realise that she liked to collect little snippets of information, as though she were forming a mosaic of him. It didn’t seem to bother her what little snippets he shared, as long as he shared. Sometimes he found himself telling her of a long-buried memory, one that could still cause a pang for his first home. Other times, however, it was a silly little anecdote that came to his mind first.

  Either way, Robert found he was happy to talk.

  So far he’d told her of English country winters, of long nights followed by mornings with dustings of snow. This time, he told her of that one terrible winter where men and boys alike had used shovels to dig their way through feet of snow simply to get out of the house.

  ‘It makes here seem hot,’ she said once she’d laughed at the image he’d conjured, of a little boy version of himself battling with an implement as big as he was, determined to do his part.

  ‘It certainly does.’ In Barracks Flat it was one of those winter days that made the season seem idyllic. With the sun out, it was as warm as early summer in Cumberland.

  ‘I’d love to see snow. I mean, I’ve seen it on the mountains a few times, but never up close. Is it like hail, or different?’

  ‘Different.’ He thought it over. ‘Mushier. It makes the oddest noise when you walk on it.’

  She peered up at him from under the brim of her unfashionably large bonnet, one she favoured as much for working in the garden as she did for trips into town, and he caught a glimpse of her eyes before he looked away to help her across a pothole in the road.

  ‘Would you ever go back there?’

  ‘To England? Possibly one day, but only to visit. Not for a time though, not until Endmoor and the viticulture business can survive without me.’

  Which might be never, but that afternoon he chose to be an optimist.

  A sudden thought struck him. Was she concerned he might? His wife needed her horizons broadened, definitely, but he guessed she was rather tied to the land, even with its arachnids and outlaws and all the other less savoury aspects of life in country New South Wales.

  ‘If you mean would I return to England to live,’ he continued. They were at the end of the road, where Monaro Street hit the water and the bri
dge, and the river walk veered off to both the left and the right. ‘Then no, it wouldn’t be possible now.’

  He was far too tied to his life and responsibilities in Australia.

  He turned them left, eastwards and away from the grand Wright house that faced the river on the west. Ducks waddled along the riverbank and glided across the water, their little community punctuated by the occasional large frame of a black swan.

  ‘But do you want to go?’

  What he wanted didn’t hold the relevance it had a short time ago. With each decision made in the past few months he’d tied himself more and more closely to the land. From Elizabeth’s return home, to the plans with John, and now a wife … He wasn’t his father, and he’d not be taking off back to England.

  Robert waited for panic to hit. It was a delayed realisation that he was bound to the tablelands now, but all he felt was a bloody-minded determination to succeed.

  ‘I couldn’t say, just as I can’t promise all of my memories of the place are accurate. I was only a lad when I left, and when I went back to study it was in London, which is far from my family’s home. Most people are guilty of being too romantic about the past, I think. With a bit of time it’s very easy to forget the unlikeable parts of a situation when they’re thousands of miles away.’

  ‘I think that about me—my family sometimes,’ she admitted absently.

  Before he could respond to that someone behind them sneezed loudly, and multiple times. A true sign spring wasn’t too far off, Robert thought wryly. Church that morning had been accompanied by a symphony brought on by a premature attack of hay fever.

  ‘One thing I keep rememberin’ about my family, though … I fell in the river once, when I was really small. Everybody thought I was too tiny to play cricket with them, so I decided to go to the riverbank on me own. Ian had to dig me out, and by then I’d travelled through the water to the other end of town.’

  That stopped Robert in his tracks. His mind filled with all sorts of dreadful images of a small blonde girl flailing about in the fast-moving Murrumbidgee, her legs tangled uselessly in her skirts.

  ‘I did not know that.’

  Alice made a dismissive sound, waved to someone on the south bank of the river, a man leading a horse towards the bridge, and tugged at Robert’s arm to keep him going.

  ‘Why would you? You needn’t sound scared about it. As you can see, I didn’t drown. Afterwards Ian taught me how to swim, how to stay afloat should it ever happen again. It was a good thing someone planted all those weeping willows ’round here, because if I hadn’t got tangled in them, I would’ve sunk.’

  They noticed the lady in front of them at the same time, a finely dressed creature coming from the opposite direction, small daughter in tow. It was Mrs Johnston, one of the society wives and one of their wedding guests. The woman had attended both the church and the reception that came afterwards, even though her presence at the celebration was definitely under sufferance. She’d not tried hard to hide it.

  Robert watched the woman’s step falter as she realised whom she approached, and saw the tell-tale sideways look that said she was trying to decide if she could duck across the street without appearing too obvious with her snub.

  Naturally, his wife tugged him on, undaunted, and the other two had little choice but to stop.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Johnston.’

  The other woman momentarily appeared horrified by his wife’s gall, but recovered well enough.

  ‘Good afternoon.’

  The barest of niceties exchanged, the lady was ready to be off already, but Alice had the Devil in her and gave the woman’s little girl a wobbly approximation of a curtsy.

  ‘And to you, too.’

  Predictably, the girl was oblivious to her mother’s dilemma, and took great, giggling delight in returning the curtsy, thankfully even wobblier than Alice’s.

  And then it all was over and done with and Alice led him on their way again.

  ‘I think the lady’s growin’ fond of me,’ she said, poker-faced.

  ***

  The rain arrived three days later, as did Robert’s book on Catholic saints.

  The downpour came unexpected and suddenly, overnight as was the custom in the tablelands, and it seemed to suit Alice’s mood. After the initial surprise, and—at times—joy at her new situation, all the worries had settled back in like old, unwelcome friends.

  The book, however, came when there was nobody else about except for Alice, delivered by a man on a horse, the beast’s hooves kicking up chunks of new mud as it cantered away, leaving her in possession of a brown-wrapped package with her husband’s name on it, and more curiosity than she thought she could contain.

  As for Robert, he was off somewhere far out on the edges of the property, having mentioned something about visiting and warning the Ngambri and Ngunnawal settlements about interlopers on the land while he was away.

  Briefly, stupidly, she considered rushing out there in the rain to find him, to share her news. She’d seen her husband handle a gig, and thought she might manage it on her own if necessary, but common sense finally got the better of her. Instead she sat, mending—there was always mending—and allowed herself to be driven increasingly mad by the endless ticking of the expensive clock on the mantle.

  Elizabeth was in town for some reason or another. She’d seemed reluctant to explain it to Alice, and so Alice had not asked.

  She didn’t eat in the dining room, as she would have if there’d been anyone else about to dine with. Instead she was content with a tray by the fire, enjoying her little cocoon of comfort.

  The package sat opposite her, where she could see it whenever she looked up from her stitching, slowly but surely driving her mad with curiosity.

  The first message arrived from Barracks Flat, delivered by a soggy stockman back from town, informing her Elizabeth was to stay the night where she was, thanks to the bad weather. The second message was delivered not long afterwards, by another man hovering in muddy boots on Endmoor’s doorstep: that Robert was to stay the night in one of the small huts along the property and be back in the morning.

  ‘Damn,’ she said quietly, once the man was out of earshot. How was she meant to last that long not knowing what the package might be able to tell?

  She continued to sew, and then when she was all done with that she wandered the house, dusting things that really didn’t need it.

  The sun had almost completely gone down when Alice’s patience ran out entirely.

  Wishing she were a better sneak, she carefully untied and unwrapped the book—she’d been certain what it was as soon as it arrived—and was gratified to find it the Catholic tome she expected.

  Had Robert not, after all, told her on their wedding day that he’d ordered it? Had he not implied it was to help her? Would he mind if she unwrapped it? She knew he wouldn’t, but she still hesitated another moment before opening the cover.

  She had to know, especially if it was to help the lot of them. She just had to.

  ***

  ‘It’s September,’ Robert’s wife told him gravely when he returned home late the next morning, ready for a wash and a hot meal, Hutton at his heels. The storm was long gone. She hadn’t even waited in the house for him but was there at the gate to the west when he came over the rise.

  Bemused, he bent to kiss her cheek, and then drew back to offer her a grave look.

  ‘That’s optimistic of you, Alice, but despite appearances, it’s not spring yet.’

  She made a noise of frustration and then waved his words away.

  ‘No, I mean Januarius. It’s a feast day. On the nineteenth.’

  He looked at her. ‘The book arrived.’

  ‘Yesterday mornin’. Sorry, but I opened it.’ She paused. ‘I needed another one of your Latin books to help me understand it. Um, The Latin Dictionary?’

  ‘A Latin Dictionary?’ he corrected, wincing. ‘Good God, I still own that thing? The number of times while studying I swore I’
d burn it at the first opportunity …’

  ‘Well, now I’m glad you didn’t.’

  Robert took her hand and set off for the homestead.

  ‘All this time, I was thinkin’ it must be in January. I was thinkin’ that maybe I’d just misheard Ian.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I was thinkin’ we were on a wild-goose chase, but I was too embarrassed to end it.’

  ‘So, we have a date,’ he said thoughtfully, aware of how tense his wife’s hand was in his own. He looked down at her.

  ‘When did you hear of this event, anyway?’

  She became tenser still.

  ‘Alice?’

  ‘When I ran into me brother back at the old house in May,’ she admitted, and attempted to tug her hand from his own. Robert held fast.

  ‘What? When I took you there?’

  He received a jerky nod in response.

  ‘And you said nothing about it? Why? Alice?’

  ‘I was scared.’

  ‘Of me?’

  ‘No!’

  She trudged on faster, forcing him to speed up to keep up with her.

  ‘No,’ she said again. ‘Of him. Of who he might have with him. Of what he might do if I told you he was there.’

  ‘Alice, I can protect myself.’

  ‘I know,’ she said immediately, in a placating tone better suited to a mother than a wife, in an attempt to smooth his pride. ‘Robert, I know that. But that night, that first night when the men came to the house, there were so many of them. I didn’t know if Ian’d brought them back. I just wanted to get us both out of there.’

  She looked up at him, and then quickly away. She hadn’t a hat on, and the sunshine had turned her cheeks pink.

  ‘I’m sorry, Robert.’ It was a guilt-ridden mumble that would turn even the hardest of men forgiving.

  ‘What do you think your brother intends to do on this date, on the nineteenth of next month?’

  ‘I dunno exactly, but he thinks he’s goin’ to help make a lot of money.’

  That didn’t sound good.

  ‘He might’ve given up on it by now,’ she added, not sounding convinced. ‘I’ve not seen him since.’