Beyond Innocence Page 6

  “Well, madam,” he responded, “as love also had no part in my decision, we understand each other perfectly. You will be housed and fed and treated well, and when the need arises I will take you to my bed. I expect you to manage the home and provide me with an heir. I get what I want out of it, and you get what you want.” Her face had blanched but he was too affronted to stop. “When you have washed and changed for dinner, come down and I will show you the rest of the house.”

  She looked as if she would speak.

  “Is there something else?” he asked.

  The defiant spark in her eyes had dulled with his words and there was vulnerability in the set of her mouth and shoulders. “The changing … it’s just that I have nothing suitable to change into.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. We can rectify that tomorrow. What you have on is fine.”

  He left the room wondering what on earth he had done. Nothing was as he planned. At every turn, she surprised and confused him. He realized he knew nothing about the woman he had married. But what had he expected from her? Gratitude? Submission? Yes, he had stupidly expected all that. But not this baffling mix of fiery defiance and childlike vulnerability. All he knew was from the first moment he saw her, he had invented a hundred practical reasons why he should marry her.

  And now he did not know what to do with her.

  • • •

  Electra turned slowly, taking in the room. Compared to her accommodations of the past eighteen months, this was luxurious beyond belief. In the centre of the room was a large bed covered in soft, colourful quilts. Yellow and purple wildflowers overflowed from a vase under the window. She pushed open the white shutters and looked out on a garden, wild with rosebushes and hydrangeas, and overshadowed by eucalyptus trees. The eucalypts seemed a little different from those near the factory; she must ask about them. Beyond the gardens, the river meandered lazily as far as the eye could see.

  And William Radcliffe was her husband. What madness was this? It seemed that only yesterday she was betrothed to Edward. Although, she had to admit, in the two years she knew Edward she did not experience a fraction of the spark that ignited each time William Radcliffe touched her. When his strong arms encircled her as they rode home, she was sure her heartbeat doubled. There had been a moment of anxiety at the unmistakable arousal of his body pressed against her. But that was quickly overtaken by strange tingles of excitement, as if every nerve had been jolted awake. With a shake of her head, she pushed the thoughts away. Now she was being ridiculous, the hardships of prison had affected her mind and blown his presence out of proportion. Besides, as handsome as he might be, his background was a complete mystery to her. Many of the free settlers came to outlying colonies to escape scandal at home. She sat heavily on the small footstool. Who was she to point a finger at someone escaping scandal?

  She trailed her fingers across the dresser and frowned at her reflection in the oval wall mirror. Had she really married this man because he dropped a scarf in front of her? No, she had married him because he was her ticket out of prison. And she hoped he would help her to prove her innocence. No other reason.

  Why then did she wish her words had been kinder? And more confusing, why had she flinched at his heartless response?

  Electra, lost in her thoughts, jumped from the stool at a sharp rap on her door. She crossed the room and opened the door to William holding out a dress.

  “I have borrowed this from my overseer’s wife. I am not sure of the fit, but it’s clean and it’s a change,” he said offering her the dress.

  Her initial reaction was to refuse the dress but she could see in his eyes a genuine intention to assist.

  She attempted a smile. “Yes, it will be a change. Thank you, Mr. Radcliffe.” She took the dress from him and turned to close the door. Their eyes met as his boot blocked the doorway and stopped her.

  “My name is William and I would prefer my wife to address me by my first name.”

  She stilled at his annoyed tone. “Very well. Thank you, William.” He waited, but she stubbornly refused to accord him the same privilege. William raised one eyebrow at the slight, turned on his heel, and left.

  His overseer’s wife was obviously larger than Electra. The sleeves were too long and the waist too low. She rolled up the sleeves, shrugged at the rest and prepared to go downstairs.

  She stood at the bottom of the stairs, unsure as to which room to enter when William walked up behind her in mid-conversation with a large bear of a man.

  “Ah, Elec — er, Mrs. Radcliffe, I’d like you to meet my overseer, Callum MacDonald. Callum, this is my wife.”

  “Wonderful to meet ye, Mrs. Radcliffe. And what a bonnie wee lassie ye are,” boomed the Scotsman. He grasped her hand in his and beamed effusively. She laughed, instantly at ease with the man, and retrieved her hand before he crushed it.

  William nodded, obviously pleased with the overseer’s approval. His eyes travelled over the dress, noted the ill fit, but made no comment. Callum, however had no such compunction.

  “Is this how ye intend to dress your wife, Will? Poor wee thing looks lost in there. Ye didna’ borrow it from my Shelagh, aye?” William’s startled look and the accompanying flush that stole up his neck, indicated he had indeed borrowed it from Callum’s wife.

  “I’m sure it was the best he could do and I’m grateful for it. In fact, it’s the best I’ve had for near on fifteen months,” Electra conceded. William’s had been a kind gesture, especially after what she had said to him. It seemed important to defend him.

  Callum looked from one to the other and raised a bushy eyebrow. William changed the subject. He offered to show her through the rest of the house and introduce her to the house servants. Later, if she was up to it, they could take a wander through the immediate grounds.

  “I’ll leave ye to it then, aye? Perhaps when ye’re settled I can show ye what we do around here,” suggested Callum.

  “I would like that, Callum. I must admit all I know about William’s property is that he keeps sheep. Actually, I’m very adept at spinning and carding wool if the need arises,” she said with a grin.

  “Ah, a lass with a sense o’ humour. Until the morrow.” He laughed, donned his hat, and strode out the door.

  “The first person I must introduce you to is Shi Liang. He basically runs the house, does the cooking, keeps an eye on the other house servants, and most of the time, mistakes himself for my mother,” said William.

  She laughed at his attempt to lighten the mood. This was someone important to the household, she thought. But what a strange name.

  He led her out the back door toward a separate wooden slab-built structure that was the kitchen. Despite the heat of the day, a fire roared off to one side and delicious cooking smells emanated from a number of pots that bubbled over the fire. A slim, Chinese man of small stature and indeterminate age hurried toward them. He wore a loose, long-sleeved jacket and black baggy trousers, and his hair hung in a long greased queue down his back. His hands were clasped in front of him.

  “Ah velly pletty wife, sir. You not send me away now?” His brow furrowed and his slanted eyes pleaded with William.

  Electra had not encountered an Oriental before and stepped back involuntarily. William’s eyes narrowed at her reaction. She regained her composure and stepped forward once more, determined to show no weakness or fear to her new husband.

  “Of course he won’t. I will need you to teach me everything about the household. I am happy to meet you, Shi Liang.” She smiled and held out her hand. Shi Liang bowed low over her hand, glowing with pleasure at her response.

  William exhaled slowly and a look of grudging admiration passed over his face. It seemed she had passed that challenge. What would the next be?

  “Please missee anything you want, I get. Forget other lazy girl, she good for nothing.” He looked sideways at William, “Solly Master William, but is true. She needing much disciprine.” He bowed again to Electra and turned, still mumbling, to stir h
is pots.

  They left the kitchen and walked back into the house.

  “When do I get to meet the lazy girl who needs much disciprine?” grinned Electra.

  He smiled at her imitation of Shi Liang. “Very shortly. I believe she is in the library dusting. But first, I want to thank you for how you handled Shi Liang. I could see you weren’t completely comfortable with a dreaded Oriental. You were very gracious.”

  She dismissed his compliment with a wave of her hand. “Most women, regardless of their background, avoid the Chinese like the plague. But I have had a number of domestic servants since my arrival in New South Wales and Shi Liang outstrips them all. He is indispensable to the household and a good loyal worker.”

  “It sounds like you would have had to get rid of me, if I had not accepted him?” she challenged.

  “Luckily it didn’t come to that,” he answered. She halted, her mouth agape at his statement.

  “I’m joking, Elec … Mrs. Radcliffe,” William said, laughter in his voice.

  Electra cast him a wary look as they climbed the last of the stairs and proceeded to the library door.

  “Oh for goodness sake, just call me Electra and be done with it,” she said, as she swept into the library.

  “Bloody hell, it’s the duchess,” said a startled Mary Buckley, as she jumped from the window seat. “Don’ tell me we’s gonna be workin’ togevver.”

  Electra’s step faltered. “Well, not exactly, Mary er … ”

  “Mary, this is my wife, Mrs. Radcliffe,” interrupted William.

  “Gawd, yer’ll be givin’ me orders an’ all? It’s not bad enough I gots to take orders from that Chinee devil … ”

  Before Mary could continue, William had stormed across the room and spun her to face him, his voice low but clear. “I will say this only once, Mary. Mrs. Radcliffe is now mistress of this house and as far as you are concerned, her word is law. As for Shi Liang, after Mrs. Radcliffe and myself, he is the next person you will answer to and respect. If you are not prepared to do so then I’m quite happy to return you to the factory.”

  “No sir, don’ send me back there. I’ll do like yer says,” she said, scowling at Electra over her shoulder as she left.

  Good heavens, so this was where Mary was sent. And her hostility toward Electra had not changed one jot. She began to foresee that marriage might bring as many problems as she hoped it would solve. As a convict marrying a man of William’s standing, there would be innumerable obstacles from all levels of society in the colony. For the first time since she retrieved William Radcliffe’s scarf, she wondered just how high a price she would pay for her new station.

  William’s voice brought her attention back from her musings as he indicated numbers of books lining the shelves around the room. He ran his hands across the spines of plays by William Shakespeare and numerous works by Fielding, Pope, and Defoe. There were volumes on animal husbandry, especially sheep, the law, and other books with which she was unfamiliar. She stole a furtive look at William. These were the writings of great and learned men, not something she expected to find in the library of an ordinary settler, albeit a rich one. The books seemed out of place in this hard, remote outpost.

  “Do you like to read?” he asked.

  “Very much. In fact I think it’s one of the things I have missed most.” She halted her words, and moved to leave. It was easier to keep the past safely locked away. Easier to pretend she had never been anything other than what she now was.

  He waited for her to continue but she had reached the door, indicating she was ready to continue the tour.

  The house consisted of four large bedrooms and the library upstairs. Downstairs the rooms were spacious and airy, with high ceilings and wide French doors opening from every room onto the verandas. There was a large drawing room, the sitting room she had seen earlier, and a formal dining room. She caught a glimpse of silver and crystal as they passed and decided his books of account would make interesting reading. The rooms were tastefully furnished with many items appearing to have come from the East. Electra could not fault William’s taste, but was not prepared to share her opinion. She was not even sure why. Perhaps after months of every aspect of her life being open for public scrutiny, she needed to reclaim her privacy, if only in her thoughts.

  As they entered the drawing room, she gasped at the gleaming, square pianoforte dominating the corner. She hurried across the room and lifted the lid. The familiar smell of dusty cedar, mixed with the strange, animal smell of ivory, assailed her, stimulating childhood memories. Her fingers began to tinkle softly on the keys, teasing out a tune she had often played for her father.

  “Oh, do you play?” he asked.

  “Yes, I was taught as a child,” she hastily wiped away a tear. “And that upsets you?” asked William.

  She was suddenly filled with a bitter sense of injustice at his question. All these pleasures had once been part of her life. But that seemed like a lifetime ago. Did he think everything was so simple? That he could just open his doors and she would slip, unmoved, from a world of hardship and deprivation into his world of silver, crystal, and gleaming pianofortes? She lashed out, wanting to squash his pride in his possessions. “And what would you want with a pianoforte? It is the last thing I would expect to see in this godforsaken place.”

  He appeared stung by her remark. “Such enthusiasm about your new home.” He did not hide the sarcasm in his voice. “I had the pianoforte shipped from England. In fact it arrived on the Liberty.”

  Was he serious? Did he think the fact both she and the piano had arrived together would please her? The object of their discussion would probably have had more comfortable conditions than the women. Her eyes narrowed in anger. “Unlike you, William, I did not make the choice to come here so do not expect enthusiasm from me.” She looked over at the pianoforte. “I also have not been enjoying the comforts that you obviously have.”

  His eyes were steely as he responded. “Unlike you, Electra, I did not break the law and am therefore entitled to my comforts.”

  The air left her lungs as his words stripped her of whatever status she may have imagined as his wife. A look of contrition immediately crossed his face but it was too late. Somehow she made it through the door and down the stairs.

  The thought had never occurred to her.

  Her husband believed she was guilty.

  Chapter Four

  With one hand on her chest to still her rapid heartbeat and the other gripping the stair railing, Electra halted on the last step. Her eyes frantically scanned the unfamiliar surroundings but at the sound of William’s footsteps, she hitched up her skirts and ran. At the bottom of the sweeping front yard, the river blocked her path. Gasping for breath, she flopped to the ground under a weeping willow tree.

  At the sound of William calling her name, she shuffled further into the shade of the willow. Its slender, drooping branches provided a private sanctuary as she muttered to herself, determined not to cry.

  What kind of man would say such things? What arrogance and insensitivity. She had never for a moment entertained the thought that he may believe her guilty. The fact he married her, meant he believed in her innocence. Did it not? Oh Lord, how could she be so foolish and naïve? William would not help her prove her innocence. He thought she was a criminal. He would always think of her as a criminal.

  She thumped the ground in frustration as she realized it mattered what he thought of her. Although he twice insulted her with his tactless comments, he did not hesitate to clarify her place in the household to Mary. And he could not have guessed the reasons behind her bitter response to his question. However, he should expect a little irrationality after what she had been through. Surely. Before his comments in the drawing room, she had even imagined the marriage might be somewhat pleasant, at least until she returned to England.

  Well, she could forget that now. She would enjoy the comforts of his home and the protection of his money until her term was up. Then she would co
nvince him to take her home to England. Even if he chose to return to New South Wales, it would be quite acceptable. Captain Hawley spoke of many men in the colony who had wives in England.

  At the thought of returning to England, she stilled. What would she go back to? Everything, including her good reputation, and everyone who mattered, had been taken from her. In truth, there was nothing left for her there. England was lost to her. The tears she was determined not to cry welled up and spilt down her cheeks.

  Her handkerchief was soggy as she wiped her nose once more. Another sob hiccoughed loudly as the flow finally subsided. She fell back on the grass and contemplated the leafy walls of the willow. Late afternoon sunshine dappled the ground and she could hear the river splash over fallen logs as it rambled toward the sea. Despite her anger and misery, the peace and beauty of her surroundings calmed her. Enough to give some rational consideration to her situation.

  Now, what was she to do about this hasty marriage?

  She sighed, already knowing the answer. There was no choice but to go back and continue the farce of being William Radcliffe’s wife. The courts may have given her a seven-year sentence, but her marriage to William Radcliffe had given her a life sentence.

  But she would survive them both.

  • • •

  By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Electra was ready to return.

  “Right,” she said aloud, as she stood and dusted down her skirt. “If Mr. High and Mighty Radcliffe wants a mistress for his house then he’s got one. Possibly not the one he imagined … ”

  She strode back to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, observing Shi Liang’s food preparations. “What have we for dinner, Shi Liang? Do you need me for anything?”

  Shi Liang turned around, confused at her question. “No Missee, I look after kitchen and house. You lady, you sit, do nothing.”

  “Goodness, no, Shi Liang. I am mistress now and I want you to consult me on everything.” The cook looked at her blankly until she waved her hand, conceding defeat for the moment. “Never mind, we can start with that tomorrow.” She turned back toward the house.