Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (290 page)

Electra smile. “You certainly do look beautiful. Your mother would be so proud of you, I just know she would.” Mary beamed, nodding in agreement.

Electra noticed the seamstress seemed distracted. She went out the back to fetch something and came back empty-handed; poked Mary with a pin and kept asking Electra to repeat statements. On a number of occasions, Mrs. Grenville seemed about to speak to her but stopped whenever Mary came within earshot. While Mary was occupied in the change room Electra asked Mrs. Grenville if there was something on her mind.

Not one to waste time on small talk, Mrs. Grenville came straight to the point.

“Lady Charlotte was in the other day.”

“Oh?” said Electra, feigning disinterest.

“Yes. And she either has no idea that we are acquainted or she is entirely insensitive.” Mrs. Grenville paused, her eyes not leaving Electra’s face.

“All right,” exclaimed Electra, unable to continue the farce, “you’d better tell me what she said.”

Mrs. Grenville glanced at the changing room and, satisfied that Mary was still admiring her gown, continued.

“She breezed in, as grand as you like, and announced to all in the shop, at least half a dozen women, that she was the late Earl of Canby’s widow and demanded immediate service. Well,” chuckled Mrs. Grenville, “you can imagine the to-do!”

Electra nodded, raising her eyebrows. “There would have been much simpering and curtseying and jostling to be the first to visit.”

“Exactly,” agreed Mrs. Grenville. “So, while she had an audience, she announced she had made the arduous journey from England to ensure the new Earl of Canby,” Mrs. Grenville nodded significantly at Electra, “your husband, resumed his rightful place in society with those by his side worthy of his status.” She sat back, her lips pressed in a thin line.

Electra felt the heat rush up her neck and into her face. Her voice was hoarse with anger. “That devious, manipulative cow of a woman!” She stopped, horrified at her outburst. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Grenville, I should not have said that.”

Mrs. Grenville laughed and leant toward her. “You know, your mother was fiery like you, maybe not such colourful language, though. Your father always said she was shameless in her outbursts.” She winked at Electra. “I think it was her fire that he loved the most.”

Her anger dissipated at the comparison with her mother but she still needed the whole story. “I’m sure she said more, especially about her plans for William.”

“Yes. She also announced that the “Earl” was going to return to England with her and her daughter for an indefinite period and hoped he would not be badly missed by Sydney society.”

At the last piece of information, Electra fell onto a chair, her mouth open in shock. “Oh dear God,” she whispered, “I’m no match for her. How silly to think I would be.”

Further discussion was interrupted by Mary bustling out of the dressing room, her cheeks rosy with excitement. Mrs. Grenville took the gown from her and suggested Mary “pop out” and make some household purchases. Electra, taking her cue, reeled off a number of items for Mary and the girl left the shop. The seamstress walked to the door and hung the “Closed” sign over the handle. She then took Electra’s elbow and led her out to the back room while she made a cup of tea.

She began to speak as she laid out the cups. “For some reason, I feel a maternal responsibility toward you my dear. If there is anything I can do to prevent that woman from hurting you, I will do it.”

“Thank you,” said Electra, forcing a small smile through lips thin with defeat.

“I have a feeling your husband and Lady Charlotte have some shared history. Would I be right?”

“Yes, sadly, they do.” And without knowing why, Electra began to tell Mrs. Grenville the story of William and Charlotte’s love affair and the resulting disaster. She even spoke about the miniature of Charlotte in her lilac gown. When Electra had finished, Clara Grenville wordlessly shook her head. Her eyes held a mixture of disbelief, anger, and sadness at the pain Charlotte had caused William and now Electra.

Before Electra could ask, Clara Grenville put her mind at rest. “You have my solemn promise this story will never be repeated by me.” Electra nodded, grateful for her sensitivity.

At that moment, Mary burst in the back door declaring her frustration at unsuccessfully trying to enter through the front. This put an end to their conversation and no opportunity presented itself for further discussion before their business was completed.

It was time to leave but as Electra bid a last farewell to the seamstress, she saw a thoughtful, almost pleased look on her face. The last glimpse she had of Clara Grenville was of her reaching up to a top shelf for a bolt of lilac silk and hugging it to herself, smiling.

• • •

A sudden silence brought Electra’s mind back to the wedding. Tom had lowered his fiddle and the minister began the ceremony. Electra tried to focus on the excitement of the wedding and the festivities of Christmas. But her despair at losing William and spending the remainder of her sentence alone dampened her spirits.

As Mary made her solemn oath to Sean, there was a high-pitched squeal. Freddy, clutched by one of the women workers, had recognised his mother. He jiggled and strained and pushed and bellowed until Sean ran back down the aisle, scooped him up and took him to the front. The ceremony continued with Freddy grabbing at his mother’s bonnet, squealing for the ring and babbling over the top of the minister’s voice. Mary’s fairy tale wedding had turned into a hilarious debacle. But she couldn’t have been happier as she clung to the two people she loved the most in the world and walked back down the aisle.

Isabele, standing next to Electra, giggled so hard at Freddy’s antics, she had to clutch her sides. It was impossible for Electra to remain serious in the midst of such hilarity. Encouraged by Isabele, she joined in, throwing rice and flower petals at “Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan” as they made their way back past the guests.

This was the signal for the Christmas feast to begin. Electra looked over to the tables spread with food and smiled with pride at the results of Isabele, Molly, and Annie’s decorating efforts. In the centre of the tables silver candlesticks, surrounded by yellow and white flowers, gleamed in the soft evening glow of the setting sun. Dangling from the wattle and river gums were coloured ribbons, paper stars, and glass ornaments.

Instinctively, Electra’s eyes searched for William.

• • •

William stood back from the crowd. Part of his attention was on the wedding ceremony but the larger part was focused on his wife. He was confused with her recent behaviour. For the past couple of days she had been so distant, treating him almost like a stranger. At night, she scuttled to bed and was asleep by the time he climbed the stairs to their room. There was a cold corridor of space between them in bed and he missed her warm body nestled against his. He wanted nothing more than to reach for her, but after his clumsy behaviour when she first came to his home, he resisted, not wanting her to feel pressured. Maybe her reticence had something to do with Charlotte but he could think of nothing he had done that could invite her jealousy. He sighed and pushed his hair back from his eyes.

• • •

Shelagh, standing with Callum, watched the play between William and Electra. She noted their recent happiness had been sorely damaged by the arrival of Charlotte.

William joined them and Callum laid a hand on his shoulder. “What have ye done with the grieving widow, lad? She’s a bonnie wee lass, aye,” he said, with a grin.

William ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “You may laugh, my friend, but this situation is not a laughing matter. The ‘grieving widow’ is being amusing and charming while my wife is treating me like a leper.”

“Ah, and where
is
the charming Lady Canby?” Callum prompted.

“She said she had a headache but I think fraternising with the help, many of whom are convicts, is not her idea of social entertainment.”

“Right. So we’re no’ good enough for her, aye?”

William threw up his hands in irritation. “Give her time, man, she’ll find her way,” he said, as he walked away.

Shelagh touched Callum’s arm, shaking her head. “That canny witch is gettin’ under his skin. Poor Electra, she must be feelin’ right miserable.”

“I’ll no’ say ye’re wrong, lassie. Electra looks more like she’s at a funeral than a wedding. But as for our countess gettin’ the best o’ William, I give the lad more credit than that.”

Shelagh weaved through clusters of people, making her way to where Electra and Isabele sat. She grabbed Isabele from behind, tickling her until she gurgled with laughter, screaming for her to stop. She plonked herself on Isabele’s chair and pulled the girl onto her lap, both still laughing.

Electra smiled at their antics and Shelagh recognised the attachment already showing in Electra’s face when she looked at the child. It warmed her own heart to have the child around Riverside and she wished Isabele did not have to leave. It was unfortunate Isabele came attached to Charlotte, she thought with wry amusement.

Shelagh repositioned Isabele on her lap. “I hope ye have a verra pretty dress for tomorrow, wee one and no’ just because it’s Christmas,” she said.

“Why ever for, Mrs. MacDonald? Aunt Electra, what does she mean?” asked Isabele.

“I have no idea. Shelagh?”

“Well, ma wee lassie, I’m no’ supposed to say.” She remained silent with an innocent look on her face until Isabele jumped up and with her hands on her hips, demanded an explanation. Shelagh raised her hands in surrender and continued. “It seems a braw young lad by the name o’ Marcus Holbourne has heard stories o’ your beauty and canna wait to make your acquaintance. And it just so happens he and his family have been invited for Christmas lunch tomorrow.”

Isabele clapped her hands to her face, a red flush rising from her neck. “Oh, that’s awful. I won’t come down to lunch. I’ll lock myself in my room. I don’t even like boys.”

Electra took up from Shelagh. “What a shame. He is quite a hero around these parts.”

Isabele peered over the top of her hands. “A hero? Why, what did he do?”

“He only fought off a group of bushrangers — they’re like very nasty stagecoach robbers,” Electra explained to Isabele, “and was shot in the leg protecting his sister. But I’ll just tell him you’re not coming down and don’t want to meet him.”

“Maybe I could just meet him for a bit,” she suggested. “I mean, it does seem rude to ignore guests, doesn’t it?”

• • •

They woke to a hot, humid day and, although Electra wanted nothing more than to share Christmas with her husband, she again stubbornly shunned his advances. It would have made more sense to simply return to her own bedroom. But then Charlotte may suspect a rift between herself and William, and Electra refused to give her that pleasure.

The night before, he insisted on making sure Charlotte was comfortable, given her recurring “headache.” He even took a tray to her room, staying there for quite some time. In the absence of Isabele’s mother, Electra put the child to bed and sat with her until her eyelids drooped. With no reason to stay up, Electra went to bed and a short while later heard William entering Isabele’s room. It had become his habit to look in on her before retiring. For Isabele’s sake, she wanted William to have a relationship with the child, but she could not shake the image of him playing a father role with Charlotte beside him.

• • •

The next day, to take her mind off her dreary thoughts, Electra dressed and looked in on Shi Liang’s lunch preparations. No sooner had she entered the kitchen, saturated with different food smells, than a wave of nausea sent her back outside. Shi Liang watched silently and when she finally stepped back into the kitchen, he shook his head, mumbling something incomprehensible. He reached up to a hook, took down a light brownish root, expertly sliced it into thin slivers and tossed them into a cup of hot water.

“Missee drink. Velly good, stop sick from baby,” he said pushing the cup toward her.

She froze, shocked at his statement. “What do you mean? You have no idea what you’re talking about, Shi Liang. What impudence,” she pushed the cup away and stalked out of the kitchen.

Electra walked until she reached the riverbank. She sank to the ground, her mind repeating and denying Shi Liang’s words. Gradually she calmed herself and tried to remember her last cycle. She calculated three times but the answer was still the same. She fell heavily back onto the grass. Shi Liang was right. With all the activity, she had not realised how late she was.

She gazed in wonder at her stomach, elated at the miracle that was taking place inside her. The elation was quickly followed by a gut-wrenching reminder that William did not want her and probably would not want their baby. Logic told her she was his wife and had every right to have his baby, but too much had happened for her to feel she had a right to anything anymore. She could not tell William, not yet anyway. If she did, there was no doubt he would do the right thing and stay with her, rather than going back to England with Charlotte. But she wanted him to stay because he loved her, not from duty. William would have to make a choice between her and Charlotte soon. She would wait. But, for now this must be her secret. Of course, she was not foolish enough to think it would remain a secret for long. Slowly she stood and dragged herself back to the house to face the guests who would soon arrive.

As she passed the kitchen, she stopped and after a moment’s hesitation, walked in. Without looking at Shi Liang, she picked up the cup and drained its contents, surprised at its spicy heat.

Electra lifted her eyes to Shi Liang’s unwavering gaze and swallowed. “I apologise for my outburst earlier. Not a word to anyone, Shi Liang,” she said. He pinched his lips together with his fingers and nodded.

• • •

Despite Electra’s distracted state, Christmas lunch progressed well. Predictably, Charlotte cornered Lord and Lady Percy and shunned those without sufficient status. A number of times Susanna sent pleading looks across to Electra to save her from Charlotte, but Electra shrugged helplessly.