A Greater World (23 page)

'Does Mr Winterbourne know you feel this way?'

'I haven't a clue. I told him I need time to consider his proposal. I don't want him to think I'm swooning at his feet like all the others.' The girl paused, then spoke: 'Has that woman ever told you she knew Michael Winterbourne? You know, before either of them came here?'

The schoolteacher looked taken aback. 'No. What on earth makes you ask that?'

'She behaves oddly around him. And so does he with her. They avoid each other. I noticed it that day outside the school when he sucked the snake poison out of that little boy. She was there. You didn't know her then and you'd already gone inside. They spoke to each other and I got the distinct impression they knew each other. The first time he came to Kinross House I could tell he was surprised to see her and they went out of their way to avoid talking to each other. Something's gone on there. The fact that she doesn't want me to marry him makes me all the more certain – and all the more determined to do so!'

'Your imagination is running away with you, dear. If Elizabeth knew Mr Winterbourne before she would have mentioned it.'

'Think what you like and so will I. It won't change my view and it won't stop me marrying him. And there's not a thing she can do to prevent me.'

Michael was halfway back to his lodgings from Kinross House when he heard someone running behind him. He stopped, thinking it was the young Irish maid or possibly Harriet herself. But it was Elizabeth.

She caught her breath, then spoke in a rush. 'Don't do it. Don't marry her. You know it's wrong.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Harriet doesn't care for you. She's very young. She's only marrying you to please her father.'

'What's it to you?' His eyes were cold.

'I don't want you to make a terrible mistake. Either of you.'

'The terrible mistake was made by me on Sydney harbour. Fresh off the boat and soft in the head.'

'It wasn't like that.'

'I'm not interested, Mrs Kidd. It's plain and simple. I don't see the problem. You married the father now I'm going to marry the daughter.'

Elizabeth choked back her tears. 'So this is about me? You're trying to punish me?'

'Don't flatter yerself.'

'Then why are you doing it? You don't care for Harriet. You'll make each other miserable and ruin any chance of happiness either of you might have in the future.'

'What do you know or care about me future happiness? You know nothing about me or about the girl. Just mind yer business. The matter's settled and I reckon if either Harriet or her father knew you were here talking to me like this they'd not be pleased.'

'Michael, I beg you. Harriet doesn't know her own mind. She's only doing this to please her father and probably to get away from me. As for my husband, I think he believes this is the best way to protect his financial interests and keep you at the mine.'

'Mebbe his financial interests and mine have a lot in common.'

'That's why you're marrying her?'

'Mebbe it's the same reason you married her father? Perhaps we're both after the main chance?'

'You know that's not true. Of either of us.'

'I'm not sure I know what the truth is any more. And I'm not sure I care.'

He walked away from her, anger rising. As the blood rushed into his face, he increased his pace, but as he reached the turnoff to the street where he lived, he kept walking, wanting to burn off his temper before he returned home and faced Mrs Abbott and the supper she'd have waiting for him. But as he walked, his heart was thumping a drum tattoo inside his chest and it wasn't from anger so much as desire. He had wanted to sweep her into his arms and promise he would never marry Harriet and beg her to run away with him. He knew he was a damned fool still to be beguiled by her. But he couldn't help it. He tried to hate her, but knew that he wanted her and always would.

As he pounded the deserted streets of McDonald Falls he told himself that Elizabeth's betrayal was a punishment for what he had done to his own family. Why be angry with her when he had no right to expect the happiness he so desired?

He made his mind up. He would marry Harriet. The consequent improvement in his finances would help his parents and that was the only consideration. Yet, despite the rational voice in his brain telling him that Elizabeth had toyed with him, his heart would not believe it. Her eyes when she looked at him were full of pain and longing.

Elizabeth walked home, eyes stinging from the tears she was trying to hold back. She had wanted to tell him everything, to explain all the messy details of how she had come to be married to Kidd, but she couldn't have done that without disclosing the true parentage of her little boy. That was not a risk she was prepared to take for anyone, even the man she loved so much. She also felt a debt of gratitude to Kidd for taking her in and acknowledging her son as his own. And it was too late anyway to undo any of this sorry mess, so what was the point of raking it all up? Her life had not turned out as she wanted, but it could have been much worse if Kidd had not married her: destitute and abandoned in a strange country with a child and no means of supporting herself.

One thing was clear. She could not live under the same roof as Michael and Harriet. Exile to Wilton's Creek was a far better alternative.

Chapter Seventeen – Another Wedding

Michael had pre-nuptial nerves. No matter how often he told himself to forget Elizabeth, he couldn't stop thinking about her. As soon as the date for marrying Harriet was set, he started panicking. Marrying her was wrong, very wrong. He tried to be cynical – he'd be a wealthy man and could afford to bring his parents out to Australia. He tried to be pragmatic – Harriet was an attractive woman and he had no desire to stay a bachelor. He tried to be angry – it would be sweet revenge for Elizabeth's betrayal. But none of it worked. He knew in his heart it wasn't right that he marry a woman he felt nothing for. And doing it in circumstances that would tie him forever to Elizabeth was worse.

The night before the nuptials was his last chance to pull out. He'd tried to refuse a buck's night, but the men at the colliery and Will were immoveable on the subject. Jack Kidd offered to stand them all drinks in the Lawson Arms so there was no chance they would let Michael slip off for a last quiet evening alone at his lodging house.

Kidd left early, after one drink, but everyone else was in a party mood. Michael endured the ribbing and ribaldry and nursed his pint with a growing sense of melancholy, escaping the crowd at the bar as soon as they were drunk enough not to notice. He sat down at a table beside Will.

Will slapped him on the back. 'How ya going, mate? That lot over there will be full as a boot before long with all that grog. But Hat'll do her block if I let you get sloshed the night before her wedding!'

Michael stared gloomily into the depths of his beer. 'I'm taking it slowly.'

Will looked at his friend curiously. 'You all right, mate? Having cold feet? Don't blame you!' he said, then punched Michael lightly in the ribs. 'I know Hat's a bit of a battler, but if anyone can sort her out, you can. She's been a bit of a grumpy cow since Lizbeth married Pa. She'll get over it once she's married herself and pushing out bubs. Her nose was put out of joint when she heard that Lizbeth has another on the way. Worried she'll be disinherited. But she perked up when the old man told her he's giving her a ton of money when she marries you. Once she's in the bub club herself she'll be happy.'

Michael paused with his beer midway to his mouth and put it down again on the table.

'Your father and Mrs Kidd are having another child?'

'Didn't you know? I thought Hat or Pa would have told you. Dad's made up. He never seemed that thrilled when she was expecting Mikey.'

'And Mrs Kidd?' Michael could hear the tremor in his voice and hoped Will wouldn't notice above the din of the bar.

'Pleased as punch. Hoping for a girl. I am too. As long as she's an improvement on Hat!' He poked Michael in the ribs again. 'I'm only ragging you, mate. Hat's all right.'

Michael threw the contents of his schooner down his throat and banged his glass down. 'Time for another, Will. Let's make the most of me last night of freedom.'

Elizabeth sat at her dressing table, delaying the moment when she would have to take her dress off the hanger and put it on. It was a beautiful frock: a blue shantung silk with midnight blue satin ribbons outlining the V-neckline and falling loosely to meet the dropped waistline. With a sigh, she slipped it on and contemplated her reflection in the glass. She smoothed her hands down the sleeves, feeling the slight roughness of the silk as it flared below the elbows. The cloche hat trimmed in the same blue satin finished it off perfectly. Any pleasure she might once have felt at wearing such a garment, was cancelled out by her dread at what lay ahead.

The announcement of the wedding had failed to thaw relations with Harriet. The girl continued to treat her with contempt and Elizabeth counted the days until she, Kidd and Mikey could head for Wilton's Creek. When she'd first seen that place she'd never imagined that one day she'd look forward to returning there. She didn't relish the prospect of isolation, but the simplicity of life there held no fears. Kidd had arranged for some long overdue improvements to be made to the house and a detachment of workers had extended it at the back, partitioned the room and painted it. Kidd had fixed up a generator and had added a wood-burning stove. Elizabeth would have to get used to pumping water and chopping logs again but she didn't care. As long as she was away from Harriet and Michael, hard work was no punishment. She'd miss seeing Verity and Will, but she was sure Kidd would let her accompany him for the occasional day trip to town.

Kidd entered the room. He was wearing a new brown suit with a sprig of red bottlebrush jauntily decorating the buttonhole. She'd never seen him dressed so smartly – certainly not on their own wedding day. His short hair was plastered flat, glistening with brilliantine and parted in a sharp line. He actually looked quite dapper. She resisted the urge to laugh: his frown telegraphing that he was not comfortable in his new garb and any comments from her would not be welcomed.

'The car's waiting. Get a move on. Oates needs to come back for me and Harriet.'

'There's plenty of time.' She was reluctant to leave the house, to leave this part of her life, to relinquish her faint claims on Michael Winterbourne. To witness him marrying Harriet: to finally forego any claim of her own.

She looked at Kidd again. The hair cream was not to her taste, but it added sleekness to his normally rough and spiky hair. He was cleanly shaven, with no trace of the usual dark shadows that crept over the lower half of his face. He smelt fresh, the scent of bay rum replacing the mixture of fresh sweat and slightly stale tobacco that usually lingered about him.

She felt an unexpected rush of tenderness for him. She raised two fingers to her lips then placed them on his. Kidd stepped backwards in surprise, and coughed nervously. He pulled himself up to his full height, which still fell short by at least an inch from Elizabeth's.

'You look very smart, Jack.' It was the first time she had used his given name.

He flushed and coughed again, frowning. 'Motor's waiting.' Then rapidly: 'Get moving. Where's the boy?'

He opened the bedroom door and called out onto the landing, 'Will! Where the devil are you? Where's the child? Get in the motor. It'll look bad if you're late.'

Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, Elizabeth headed down the stairs towards her small son, her stepson, the waiting motorcar and the wedding she dreaded with every atom of her being.

McDonald Falls had never seen a wedding like it. Kidd had decided to spare no expense for his only daughter. Half the town was invited and the big stone church was packed to capacity.

Elizabeth, in the front pew, sandwiched between Will and Mikey, clutched her little boy's hand all the way through the ceremony. She kept her head down, her eyes closed and tried to shut out the goings-on in front of her on the steps of the altar.

Harriet was wearing ivory silk, encrusted with tiny seed pearls, with more pearls woven into the fabric of the veil which swept down to the floor from her pearl-encrusted satin skull cap. The dress had cost a small fortune and looked it. The shape was fashionably loose and fell flatteringly over the girl's slender figure, revealing a pair of trim ankles enclosed in white silk stockings and ivory satin shoes. When she walked up the aisle on her father's arm to the sound of the creaking organ, Elizabeth heard the gasps and whispered admiration. They did indeed make a handsome couple.

Keeping her eyes lowered, Elizabeth remembered her own wedding, three years earlier. She looked at her husband in his smart brown suit and remembered the shabby garments, the un-oiled hair, the rough hands and the dirt under his fingernails. Married life had effected some improvements.

The minister had reached the exchange of vows. Elizabeth dug her nails into the palm of her left hand, while clinging to Mikey's hand with her right. The little boy wriggled and tried to pull away, forcing her to relax her grip. She bent down to settle him, stroking his blonde hair, grateful for the distraction from the ceremony. She shivered when Michael's voice, with its still strong North Country burr, spoke out confidently in response to the prompts. Then Harriet's, softer, but clear enough for all to hear. Elizabeth swallowed, realising she'd been nursing an unvoiced hope for divine intervention. The minister pronounced the couple man and wife. There was to be no reprieve.

Elizabeth was standing on the steps of the church while the photographer fussed with his equipment, when Mikey, tired and hungry, started to cry. She was about to slip away with him, but she felt Kidd's hand on her arm.

'Leave the child be. Mary can take care of him.' On cue, Mary stepped out of the crowd and swept Mikey up in her arms and carried him away.

The formal reception of guests and the interminable wedding breakfast were followed by dancing. The celebrations were held in the vast formal dining room of the Queen Alexandra Hotel. It was a very grand building, looking out over the gardens to the town. Elizabeth was surprised at the grandeur, relative to the size of the town, but remembered that there was plenty of money pouring into the mountains from wealthy tourists and weekenders who expected the same high standards they enjoyed in Sydney. The ceiling was decorated with elaborate cornicing and two enormous glass chandeliers. Romanesque arches ran down each side of the room and ornate columns supported the high ceiling. Kidd must have bought up every florist in Sydney and the room was filled with the scent of flowers.

Elizabeth was conscious of Michael sitting beside her at the top table. Will was on her other side and she talked to him animatedly, desperate to avoid the need to turn to her left and speak to her new son-in-law. She need not have worried, as Winterbourne showed no inclination to talk. Sitting so close to him was like a slow torture. Her leg was a couple of inches from his and he accidentally brushed against her when they sat down. His leg sprang away as though electrocuted. Did he really hate her so much?

It was all such a terrible mess. She cursed herself, cursed the savage gods, whoever they were, for arranging things so cruelly. Then she thought of Mikey and told herself she could face anything as long as she had him. He brought her joy every day of his life and his presence helped wipe out the memory of his conception.

The party moved to the large ballroom where the dancing began, led off by the newlyweds. The second dance was between father and daughter and Elizabeth, to her horror, was pushed towards Winterbourne by Kidd and Will, urged on by the crowd who gathered around the dance floor, eager for the dancing to be opened to all.

When the musicians struck up, Kidd shuffled uncomfortably around the room, led by his daughter rather his own footwork. Michael took Elizabeth's hand for the dance, a waltz. He looked like a man going to his execution. Elizabeth held herself stiffly, feeling awkward and embarrassed, but as he held her, the music swept them up and she felt herself relax. Maybe it was the effect of the champagne, but she felt that she would rather be nowhere else. The smell of Michael, the feel of his skin against hers as their hands clasped, the light touch of his other hand against her spine. It was a long time since she'd last danced. Not since Stephen died. Their bodies moved together and the music moved through them as though they were one single being. She didn't want it to stop. She didn't want to let go of him.

The music ended and they stepped apart. For an instant he looked into her eyes and she felt the old Michael Winterbourne had returned. The moment passed, his body stiffened, his eyes narrowed into a frown and, nodding curtly, he stepped away to reclaim his new bride from her grateful father. Not a word had passed between them.

Elizabeth saw Verity across the crowded room and went to join her, glad to sit with her back to the dancing and the newlyweds. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harriet making a circuit of the room to show off her gown and her rings to the many former school friends present. Verity smiled. 'Doesn't she look a picture? You must be proud.'

Elizabeth nodded. 'She does indeed look lovely.'

'She's in her element with her old classmates. She'll be thrilled to be one of the first to be married – and to such a handsome man. She looks quite the lady now.' She paused, looking embarrassed. 'I mean... not that she hasn't always been lady-like...'

'I know what you mean, Verity. She's suddenly grown up.'

'Indeed. That's exactly what I meant. She looks so sophisticated and elegant. And Mr Winterbourne looks so handsome. They make a lovely couple.'

'They certainly do.' Elizabeth forced some enthusiasm into her voice.

When he came back from the bathroom, Harriet was sitting up in bed thumbing through the pages of the Sydney Morning Herald. She dropped the paper onto the floor, flicked off the switch on the night-table lamp and slid down beneath the covers. Michael climbed into the bed beside her, and then as he reached for her, she spoke.

'Can we get it over as quickly as possible?'

He removed his hand from her waist and went to switch the light on again.

'No, leave it off. Just get on with it please. I know it's going to hurt, so do it as fast as you can.'

Michael started to laugh.

'Why are you laughing at me? What's so funny?'

'I don't expect Rudi Valentino's ever got fed a line like that.'

'This isn't the pictures.' She was sounding sulky now. 'I know what happens. My friend told me. It's horrible for women. So I want to get things clear from the start. Do it if you must but I don't want to discuss it.'