A HAZARD OF HEARTS (31 page)

His eagerness made her uneasy. However, she’d
committed herself, so named a date a week away, hoping that no emergency would
arise to spoil the arrangement. She would not mind, but he would take a
postponement as rejection.

Elly held out her hand. ‘You must forgive me. I
have an errand, and my time is limited.’

He glanced at the parcel of books under her arm.
‘You’re on your way to Piddington’s Bookshop? May I escort you? I have business
in the same direction.’

Salvation appeared over his shoulder in the form
of J.G. who sauntered down the street twirling a gold-topped cane like a
bandsman with his drumstick.

‘Thank you.’ She gave Cornwallis her best smile.
‘However, I’ve arranged to accompany Mr Patterson to the Subscription Library.’

Side-stepping, she moved quickly to intercept
her friend. ‘J.G. you’re late. I had almost given you up.’

J.G. neither blinked nor paused, but bowed
extravagantly over Elly’s free hand, cane extended at an angle to support his
doffed hat, his whole manner aping a Regency dandy.

Elly said playfully, ‘You need a third hand for
your hat, Monsieur Macaroni, unless you abandon your delightful cane.’

‘It serves a double purpose as a hatstand, thus
freeing me to greet a lady with style.’ J.G. glanced at the vexed Cornwallis,
grinned mischievously, and deliberately kissed Elly’s fingers. He then
straightened and put his hat back on at a rakish angle. ‘Good-day to you, sir.’
With a nod to Cornwallis, he swept Elly about on his arm, saying out of the
side of his mouth, ‘Where are we supposed to be going?’

‘To the Library,’ she hissed back, twisting
around to say goodbye to Cornwallis.

J.G. took her books and hurried her away at a
brisk trot.

At the corner of Bent and Macquarie Streets
where the imposing Library building rose like a Greek monument, Elly,
breathless, pulled him up.

‘Thank you, J.G. We can now moderate our pace.
He’s not following.’

‘It’d be beneath his dignity, since we didn’t
ask him to join us. What a rude pair we are.’ He glanced at her quizzically.

‘I haven’t run away from him, precisely. I can’t
explain. It’s... It’s his air of proprietorship that worries me. He’s so
accustomed to power, to swaying others. He sweeps me along without giving me
time to think.’

‘He’s a power in the Colony, to be sure, with a
finger and just about every toe in any pie worth the baking. Some say he has
too many interests.’

‘What do you mean?’

J.G. shrugged and guided her up the steps under
the archway, swerving past a number of other citizens bent on the same errand. ‘I’ve
heard talk of him being a remittance man, banished, at least until he comes
into the title. Still, in business, as in politics, there are always voices to
denounce the rich and powerful. Sometimes there’s truth in rumours of chicanery
and false dealing. Sometimes it’s mere envious spite. In this case, I’ve not
yet discovered which.’

Elly said in a troubled tone, ‘I don’t like to
listen to tales about other people. I’ve always found Mr Cornwallis to be
honourable in his dealings with me. However, I’ll maintain a proper distance. Now
please, let’s talk about something else.’ She added more cheerfully, ‘I expect
you attended the important Mr Wentworth’s departure for London in all his
glory?’

J.G. held the door open for her. ‘Yes, indeed, I
saw the great man off, just to be sure we were rid of him and his
recommendations for a Colonial House of Lords filled with Rose-water Liberals.
He’ll make the spring sitting of Parliament with time to spare. The
Chusan
’s
the fastest steam packet we have.’

Elly wrinkled her nose. ‘“Nasty-smelling tin
cans afloat. Give me a clipper any time”. I quote Jo-Beth, who fell victim to
the charms of a great sailing ship during her voyage from China.’

‘Which just about drowned her in the end. You
don’t catch a “tin can” breaking in two from worm rot. No, steam- ships are the
coming thing. They’ll sweep the seas clean of sail before long. That’s
progress, girl dear.’ He flung out an arm, almost knocking the hat off a
bewhiskered old gentleman. ‘I beg your pardon, sir.’

Glaring at J.G., the man clutched his
low-crowned beaver, whispering hoarsely, ‘Kindly remember this is a library,
sir, and moderate your voice.’ He stomped off, leaving J.G. affronted.

‘Ye’d think I’d brought in a brass band,’ he
complained.

He placed the books on the desk, adding, ‘Speaking
of progress, how goes the campaign to improve the hospital? And don’t be
thinking I’m after another article. I just want to know.’

‘It goes at snail speed,’ Elly confessed. She
began to inspect the volumes in a nearby bookstand. The combination of smells
in a library pleased her, a pot-pourri of ink and paper and paste and a
fustiness that went well with high ceilings and walls lined with gilt-lettered
spines; books by the yard; information by the hundredweight; entertainment for
years to come. ‘We’re training new staff,’ she explained, ‘Yet the number of
improvements has been small. Nothing major has been attempted, like the drains.
Thank Heaven winter’s on its way, to kill off flies and mosquitoes.’

‘I thought, with the Hon. D’Arcy Cornwallis’
support...?’ J.G. paused delicately.

‘He can only do so much as one Board Member. He’s
championed me twice already. Besides, I don’t like to be indebted to him, to
feel he expects repayment.’

J.G’s brows rose. ‘Surely not.’

‘Oh, I can’t be specific. It’s just... he likes
my company and... apart from all else, I’m simply too tired these days to
socialise.’

‘Hmm. You are quite pale and Ophelia-like.’ He
studied her while she tried to decide whether the volume of memoirs by an
Anglican Archdeacon of Wandford Parish would interest her. Finally she could
ignore her discomfort no longer. ‘What is it, J.G.? Have I a smut on my face?’

‘Despite your scruples, I’ve decided to drop a
warning word in your ear. Whatever his business methods, the Dishonourable D’Arcy
has a sizeable reputation with the ladies, as well as with women of another
order. Take care, girl dear.’

Elly discarded the Anglican Archdeacon, saying
in a carefully lowered voice, ‘I know you mean well, J.G., so I’ll forgive you
for introducing the topic once more. But as I’ve told you, Mr Cornwallis’
behaviour towards me has been most proper. A reputation for gallantry is hardly
unusual amongst men of means, and until I’ve good reason to question his
behaviour, Mr Cornwallis will remain my friend. Now, will you abandon the
topic, or must I abandon you?’

J.G. clutched at his heart, well-concealed
beneath a grass-green striped waistcoat. ‘You couldn’t be so cruel.’ His eyes
danced.

‘I could, you know.’

‘Then I won’t risk it. Cornwallis as a topic of
conversation is now dead, coffined, entombed and surrounded by churchyard yews.’

‘That could have been better put. However, if
you will fetch me a volume just beyond my reach – yes, the one on
Wanderings
Through New South Wales,
I’ll forgive you. Thank you. And now, J.G., I
think you should continue your interrupted stroll, with my sincere thanks for a
timely rescue.’

J.G.’s mobile brows went up. ‘Dismissal? Oh
well, I should be slaving over my next column. By the way, did you know Paul is
due back this week?’

Elly’s grip tightened on Mr Bennett’s
Wanderings
. ‘Back from where? I’ve not heard from him since we saw Pearl
off on the river steamer almost three months ago.’ Her level tone concealed her
true feelings. These lay close to the surface, swelled by the memory of an
encounter on the sands of Botany Bay, of rapturous moments in Paul’s arms, and
the torment of endless broken nights since.

How hard she had tried to drive him away, out of
her thoughts, out of her life. He had said he understood, concurring in her
decision not to allow a lightning passion to interfere with either of their
goals. When they met on the wharf to farewell Pearl he had stayed aloof and
gone happily off with the other men, making no effort to contact her since.

But how his indifference hurt, despite having
brought it on herself. So she had built a high, thick wall around her hurt,
hardening it into indifference. She told herself she no longer cared what Paul
Gascoigne did, and had believed it until this moment.

The grievance in J.G.’s voice penetrated her
thoughts.

‘Don’t I know it’s all of three months! The
spalpeen left on one of his nomadic campaigns up country, after depositing his
dog with me. So far I’ve lost five pounds in girth exercising the mutt, not to
mention a bedroom slipper and as nice a ham as ever graced a board. I’ll give
him three months when I see him.’

Elly’s clutch on the book loosened and she
smiled. ‘Is Pepper misbehaving? I expect he misses his master. He’s been gone
all this time?’

‘Either he’s travelled much further than planned
or been delayed by an accident.’

Her heart banged against her ribs and reeled
back. Accident! She knew so well what it meant to be alone in the bush,
injured, with nowhere to turn for help.

J.G. grasped her arm. ‘You’re not going to faint
on me, are you? You’re the colour of a Gloucester cheese.’

She gathered herself. ‘No, I won’t faint. I
shall go to the desk and ask for
Pickwick
Papers, plus Volume Three of
Sir Walter Scott’s
Waverley
series. Goodbye, J.G. Thank you for your
escort.’

He let her go reluctantly, took two paces, then
turned back again as she said, ‘You will let me know if Paul arrives home
safely?’

‘To be sure I will.’ He waved his cane at her and
went off, to work, Elly supposed, watching him disappear through the heavy
door. But her thoughts were with Paul Gascoigne, wondering where his travels
had taken him, whether he was safe, whether he ever thought of her.

~*~

The dinner with the Hon. D’Arcy Cornwallis
had been a mistake, Elly thought, a week later. Despite being her guest he had,
without her knowledge, secured a table in a secluded bay of the restaurant
which gave an appearance of privacy and particularity, then proceeded to turn
the evening into something she had not intended.
Saute
of goose and
kidneys
aux champagne
, with side dishes of partridge and truffles, were
not enough to leaven a situation which called for the greatest tact. J.G.’s
warnings should have been heeded.

For, while playing the gentleman still,
Cornwallis succeeded in discomforting her with his gallantry. His conversation
had become loaded with innuendo that might have been acceptable to ladies of a
different order, but not to Elly. Still she hesitated to speak her mind,
restrained by gratitude for his earlier help, plus the need to retain the
goodwill of at least one Hospital Board Member.

She wriggled and manoeuvred the conversation
away from personal topics, yet as often as she succeeded he would angle it back
with a compliment or substitute a speaking glance. He used his eyes as a
weapon. She felt like an animal being gently, inexorably herded into a pen. If
he had touched her she thought she must have risen and left him, but he was not
so crude, contenting himself with words plus a magnetic gaze which pinned her
to her seat, establishing a silent, yet unmistakable claim upon her.

Smothering her anger at his familiarity, she
refused dessert, impatient for him to end his meal. Finally she asked him to
take her home.

Cornwallis called for a liqueur for the lady.

‘No thank you. I’d like to leave now, if you
please,’ Elly repeated pleasantly but firmly, drawing her wrap around her
shoulders to cover the low neck of her gown.

‘But Eleanor – I may call you Eleanor? The night
has scarcely begun. I had plans –’

‘So have I plans, which include a great deal of
work to be done before I can sleep. I apologise for cutting short this pleasant
interlude. However, I did say “dinner”, not a full evening’s entertainment. So,
Mr Cornwallis, if you don’t mind...’

His hand shot out to grasp her wrist, holding
her in her chair. She stared at the square, polished nails, at the dark hairs
springing above the knuckles.

He said, ‘But I do mind, very much. I had
anticipated a great deal from this interlude. When a charming woman issues an
invitation to join her for dinner, I expect to enjoy her company for several
hours. Nothing was said about an abrupt termination as soon as the meal ended.
I protest, Eleanor. I have been ill-used.’ His voice had an unmistakable edge
which warned Elly, even as it added to her anger.

She pointedly waited until he released her, then
leaned towards him, injecting warmth into her tone.

‘I’m extremely sorry if there has been a
misunderstanding. I thought I’d made it clear that at present we are so
inundated with work I can’t be spared for long. I’ve been on duty in the wards
all day and have several reports to fill out, accounts to be checked,
inventories... You see how it is? I doubt whether I’ll be abed before one o’clock
yet must rise again at five.’ She drooped a little.

Cornwallis frowned then settled back, his stare
disconcerting. ‘A pity, indeed. But I see that you are weary and console myself
with the anticipation of future meetings. There will be such occasions, will
there not?’