Mary's Guardian (14 page)

Mary tried to smile as she lifted her daughter onto the bed and gathered what would fit into their cart. William’s way of thinking was rubbing off on her. She opened the door again, praying the rain would ease so she could more easily find her way up to the ridge. But she knew by the sound of the beating downpour that it would go all day and night. In the morning they’d be looking down from the ridge on a huge lake of muddy water, choked with the remains of many of the farmers’ livelihood. But, most of the families here would salvage what they could and start again, hopefully learning as they went that the river could not be ignored, nor was it to be tamed. Rather it had to be understood and respected. The natives had obviously always known that, just as William said.

‘We’re a bit slow o’ mind, we Brits,’ she mumbled to Elizabeth. Dear little pet was always smiling, always in good humour. ‘Must take after your Pa,’ she whispered as she put a rough blanket around the child’s shoulders. ‘But your Ma’s learning, isn’t she, now? We’re not to be beaten, my lamb. We’ll raise you to a better life than we ever knew. Somehow, we will.’ She headed out into the squalling wind and rain with an armload of pans and plates. She and Elizabeth would be drenched by the time they got to the ridge but she knew young Andrew Thompson would let them shelter in his sheds. He was probably out on the river now in his boat, risking his life to help some that had no means of escape. It was what he always did. Coming back into the hut she bundled Elizabeth into her arms, covered her with as many blankets as she could, blew out the small candle on the table and headed back out.

‘Maybe this time we’ll lose the hut altogether,’ she mused as she looked up at the black sky. ‘But your Pa’s not going to give up, little one, so we’ll just have to help him start again, eh?’

The three-year-old grinned through squinted eyes as Mary tried to shield her face from the pelting drops. ‘Where’s Pa?’

‘He’ll be along, love. When he’s satisfied he’d done all he can to help our friends.’

Spring, 1803

‘Who’d have thought we’d need hired help?’ William’s chest puffed out, straining against his shirt. He stood back and leaned on his hoe, looking across a wide field of maize, its golden tops waving in the breeze and blanketing the earth.

‘You think this Dan Jurd will be a good worker?’ Mary looked up from her mending. She shaded her eyes and peered at the man who was hoeing on the far side of the crop. He was a bronzed young man, his pale brown hair thick and flopping over his face. Even from where she sat Mary could see he had a good build, much like William, his shoulders bulky and strong.

‘It seems so,’ William nodded. ‘He’s very keen to learn and determined to make good. He was transported last year for seven years. He was a chimney sweep in London and convicted of stealing twenty pound of bacon. Talking to him, I get the impression he was led astray by an older man who was his accomplice. I think he’s learned his lesson. Just trying to survive poverty in England, like most of us. But he’s got a good attitude. He can see a future here. I like the boy.’

‘He’s not a boy, Will,’ she said a little too quickly. She was uncomfortable with the idea that William might think of this young man or any other as his son. There was still no sign of a baby boy for her. Although she and William were both enjoying their daughter very much, Mary was still clinging to the hope that she’d bear a son for William. He’d worked so hard these past few years to establish their farm and the more prosperous it became the more desperately she wanted him to have a son to pass it on to. They didn’t speak so much about it these days, choosing to focus on what they could achieve rather than what they couldn’t. But the deep desires of her heart could quickly come to the surface of her mind whenever she saw Will’s potential for fathering a son.

‘No, you’re right, love,’ William answered, clearly taking no offence. ‘He’s in his mid-twenties actually, but he needs someone around who’s going to help him move in the right direction now.’

At that moment Elizabeth came trotting from the hut, waving a small piece of paper in the air. Mary watched William’s face light up as he waited for his daughter to run into his arms, which she was prone to do whenever she saw him. When father and daughter had hugged and Elizabeth had wriggled away from William’s playful tickling, she turned to Mary.

‘Ma, see my picture.’ The seven-year-old held out the paper and proudly showed off what she’d been drawing.

‘Why, that’s a tree I think,’ Mary said, equally proud.

‘Yes, and there are birds in the branches and a kangaroo at the bottom. See?’

‘I can see, love.’

‘Dan showed me how to draw kangaroos,’ she said brightly, her eyes straying to where Dan was digging.

‘Dan did?’ Mary asked, a little surprised. ‘When was that?’

‘This morning, while he was cleaning the hoe. We saw one jump away from the trees down by the river. It moved so quick that I couldn’t see it properly, so he drew one for me and I copied it.’

‘I see.’ Mary’s voice was solemn.

‘I’ll do some more drawing now.’ Elizabeth giggled and ran back into the hut.

‘Will?’ Mary’s voice held concern. ‘Do you think it’s wise for Dan to be talking to Elizabeth when we’re not around? I don’t like the idea of that.’

‘I doubt we’ve anything to worry about, dear. I’ve seen him talking with her a few times. He gets along very well with children, that’s clear. And there’s no sign of anything you might be worried about.’

‘Well, I certainly hope not, but I do wish you’d watch him carefully anyway. We don’t know him that well. He might be a good worker but we haven’t hired him to teach our daughter how to draw, nor anything else he might have a mind to show her.’

‘Now, now, no dark thoughts. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt, eh?’

‘Not at the risk of our daughter being hurt in any way.’

‘I’ll watch out, I promise, love,’ William assured her as he headed off to join Dan in the field.

***

By October Mary knew she was pregnant again but said nothing to William until she was sure she was over three months along.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ he asked warily after hearing the news.

‘Yes, I am. It’s not like the times when it’s all ended so quickly. I feel it’s all getting established.’ She rested against his chest. ‘Please let it happen this time, Will. Please make God be kind to us.’

He laughed lightly. ‘I’m not sure I can make God do anything, love. But I’ll certainly ask Him about it. Now, you’ve got to take care of yourself and not overdo, right? Elizabeth can fetch and carry a few things for you now. She loves to help.’

‘I know.’ She clenched her fists and pressed them to her heart, daring to believe, trying to hope for the best. ‘I’ll tell Ellen soon. She’ll be thrilled. She feels bad that she’s been so able to bear so many babies. Five now, she and Joe have. She shouldn’t have to feel bad about that, should she?’

‘Of course not, and I know she’ll be really happy for you, love. But don’t say anything too soon, eh?’

‘You think it won’t happen, don’t you?’

‘I just don’t want you to be hurt again. And I want you to be sure that whatever happens I love you dearly. You’re enough for me.’

She laughed lightly, wanting to keep her happy mood. ‘And sometimes too much for you?’

He chucked her under the chin and kissed her on the nose.

She knew that he loved to see her laugh. She was also very aware that a pregnancy meant the possibility of a lot more laughing or a lot more tears. She was praying silently for the former as he went back to work.

***

Thomas Douglass was born in May of 1804. He was a healthy, squirming boy, who clearly had good lungs and used them frequently to call out to his mother for a feed. In his first few months he thrived.

‘He’s a hungry little mite, isn’t he?’ William chuckled while Mary fed him for the third or fourth time in a morning.

‘I can’t fill him,’ she sniggered. ‘He’ll be as big as Elizabeth before we know it if he keeps on eating at this rate.’

‘He’s only three months old, love. It’ll take a while for him to catch up to Elizabeth. Perhaps it’s the cold weather making him so hungry.’ William smiled as he pulled on his coat. ‘The wind is bitter out there. I think we’re in for a long cold winter.’

‘As long as we’re not in for heavy rains and another flood,’ she said, adjusting herself so she could continue feeding Thomas.

‘Touch wood, we’ve not had a bad one for a few years. But sooner or later it’ll happen, love. Don’t worry, we’re better prepared for it now.’ He leaned over and touched Thomas’s head softly before he headed outside.

‘Can I go too, Ma?’ Elizabeth’s voice came from the corner of the room where she was busy with paper and pencil.

Mary shook her head. ‘It’s too cold, sweet heart. Even your father has put on his coat, so it must be bad. You’ll have to do some more drawing for a while.’

‘I’m not drawing. I’m writing my letters.’

‘Your letters? What letters?’

‘Dan showed me how to write the letters in my name. But it’s too long. I wish I had a short name like Dan.’

Mary sighed heavily. Dan, Dan. It seemed all Elizabeth talked about these days was Dan. He’d never given Mary any reason for concern, and William seemed more and more impressed by the young man, but still Mary was not comfortable with the idea of her daughter getting so attached to a man. Any man except her father. She would have to talk to Elizabeth before she was too much older and make sure the girl had a healthy fear of men. She’d have no idea what they were capable of from knowing her father, certainly not anything negative at least. Her experience of William would be showing her all the very best possible in a man. Mary prayed that Dan Jurd was following that example. If he wasn’t, he’d have her to deal with and then he’d find out what terror a woman could inflict. She laughed inwardly to herself, remembering how she’d shown men a thing or two in her earlier days. As much as she’d mellowed and learned to control her emotions, she knew there was still a fierce lioness deep inside herself should she need it.

***

By September Elizabeth was quite desperate to get outside and play. She loved to watch out for small animals in the scrub around the sides of the crops, to creep up on them and see their little paws and their faces. Sometimes they’d stop their foraging and watch her for a little while, twitching their noses and their ears before scurrying away.

‘One day I’ll be teaching you to catch those little critters, Elizabeth,’ William said to her one morning as they watched from the porch. ‘Your Ma can make a good stew from one of those.’

Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide in horror and she glared at her father, pushing back her hair from her forehead in much the same way that her mother did.

‘Pa, you wouldn’t! They’re so sweet.’

‘They are, love,’ he chuckled, ‘which is just why we’d enjoy them in a stew.’

‘No. I won’t let you,’ she scowled. ‘You have to get meat for stews at the butcher shop.’

‘We do that occasionally now,’ William nodded. ‘But we’ve only had a butcher shop in Windsor for a very short time. We’ve been hunting for our own meat for most of your life and a long time before that. You ask your mother.’ He ruffled her pale brown hair. ‘We must thank God that He gave us animals to eat. Otherwise we’d have to survive on vegetables and then perhaps we wouldn’t be strong enough to do farm work.’

Elizabeth listened carefully to her father, her nose screwed up in disapproval. ‘Well, I still don’t want to eat those sweet little animals,’ she said eventually, confident in her own assessment of the situation.

***

It was a bright sunny day in mid September when Mary finally agreed to sit outside for a while with Thomas so that Elizabeth could play in the fresh air. Their crop of Indian corn stood high in the field. The maize glistened in the sun. The vegetable patch was bursting with carrots, turnips, spinach and cabbages. The pumpkin vine had wound its way right over the shed and was heavy with plump pumpkins. It was all a joy to behold. Mary laid Thomas on a rug on the grass where he kicked and punched at the air, gurgling and cooing, his attention taken by small birds that twittered and chortled in the large gum tree above him.

‘Good morning,’ came Ellen’s voice, as Mary was settling herself in a chair she’d dragged from inside the hut. ‘I thought I might find you out today. Isn’t it glorious?’ She let her eighteen- month-old daughter slip from her arms and grinned as the toddler headed for the baby boy on the rug.

‘It is’, Mary agreed. ‘I’ve brought these peas out to shell while the children get some fresh air. Let’s get you a chair as well, eh?’

‘I’ll get it. You stay there. You’re all set up. I’ve brought a little mending with me. Joe has the others helping him fix a fence. They love to work with him. So I thought I’d bring myself over here for a visit.’

‘I’m glad you’ve come,’ Mary said when they were both settled. ‘I haven’t seen so much of you lately, what with the winter months and doing for the children.’

‘The days do pass, don’t they? There’s always plenty to do with a family.’ Ellen beamed. ‘Let me look at little Thomas.’ She leaned over to play with the baby boy’s fingers, bringing a broad grin to his face. ‘Don’t poke at him, Sarah. Just be gentle,’ she chided her daughter. ‘He’s growing fast, isn’t he, Mary? Such a bonny boy.’

‘And not a sign of sickness all through the winter months, thank the Lord,’ Mary sighed.

‘It’s a blessing when they’re healthy, no doubt about it.’ Ellen sat back and pulled her mending from the bag she’d brought. ‘I give thanks every day for mine, Mary. And I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’ve a son at last. I know what it means to you.’

‘The world, Ellen. It means the world.’ Mary shelled peas contentedly for a few moments until something caught her eye. ‘What was that?’ she said, sitting forward and looking across the field.

‘What?’

‘I thought I saw someone running on the other side of the corn. Looked a bit like Dan’s hair, the glimpse I caught, but I can’t imagine what he’d be tearing down to the water for.

‘Perhaps it was kangaroo, love. They bounce around a bit. And it’s a fair way across there. It’s a bit hard to make out anything.’

‘No, it definitely looked like a man.’ Mary stood quickly and peered across the field. The hairs on the back of her neck had risen and a tingle of dread ran up her spine. ‘Where’s Elizabeth?’ She dropped her peas to the ground and hurried towards the side of the hut where she’d seen her daughter what seemed like only moments ago. ‘Elizabeth!’ she called, her voice already frantic. Ellen was close on her heels. ‘No, Ellen, you stay and watch Thomas and Sarah.’ She waved her friend back to where their infants lay on the rug and began to run down the side of the corn field, calling her daughter.

Just when she thought she’d choke on the lump in her throat, Mary saw William coming up from the river bank. He had Elizabeth in his arms. She ran towards him, almost tripping as she got close to the small trees where roots lay across the path. ‘Dear God, what happened?’ she cried as she reached her husband. His face was black with anger. It was an expression she had rarely seen on him. He seemed unable to speak. Elizabeth lay back in his arms, her face pale, her eyes wide and darting about, her limbs trembling. Mary could see that there was no blood on her daughter, no cuts. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ she demanded, her voice shaking. She had to walk quickly alongside William now as he continued his stride back towards their hut. Still he hadn’t spoken. His chest was heaving and Mary knew it was not from the weight of Elizabeth. She was as fine as a bird and light as a feather. Mary looked at her daughter’s eyes and saw now that they were full of terror. Something had frightened her. Something had frightened her badly. She dragged at William’s arm, trying to pull him up, digging her heels into the sandy ground on the path. ‘For God’s sake, tell me what happened, Will…please?’