A Look at Distant Mountains (Settlers Book 2) Tricia McGill

 

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My Settlers series was written as a tribute to the magnificent pioneer women who battled alongside their men to open new frontiers in far flung corners of the globe. It was inspired by letters sent from Australia home to Britain by these women who were often torn away from the family and homeland they loved, forced to endure all kinds of deprivation, but faced every struggle with strength and fortitude. In this day of washing machines, supermarkets and homes filled with mod-cons it is difficult to imagine a life without these amenities, let alone to perceive what it must have been like traipsing after your menfolk to settle in unknown parts, often over miles of dangerous territory.

Book Two Distant Mountains carries on from where we left the characters in Mystic Mountains, and tells Jeremy’s (known to all as Remy) story. He has been transported to the settlement of Botany Bay, a town that, although progressing, is still very much a place ruled by the aristocrats and free settlers. Remy makes the mistake of falling in love with the daughter of one of these free settlers who happens to hate convicts, in fact anyone of a lower class. Remy sets out to improve his circumstances but, on the way has to overcome many obstacles before reaching his goal.

While researching this book I needed to delve into the conditions that were suffered by the military along with the convicts in Moreton Bay. Most convicts were sent north from Sydney Town as Moreton Bay was considered so isolated that no convict would try to escape and if he did then would have little chance of survival. It is difficult to comprehend that this settlement became the Brisbane we know today. But over and above all else, Distant Mountains is a story of enduring love.

"Amidst the sweet romance and tenderness, Ms. McGill adds the excitement of spousal abuse, bushrangers, forced marriage, kidnapping, and Remy's imprisonment and torture. She shows that a talented author can take a romance and turn it into so much more.” Brett Scott The Romance Studio.

Buy here from your favourite bookseller: https://books2read.com/Distant-Mountains

 Excerpt from Distant Mountains:

Prologue

Moreton Bay

September 1828

A kookaburra warbled its silly head off. Laughing, no doubt, at the stupidity of man. And the cruelty.

The sun beat down mercilessly as the cat-o-nine tails whirled and cracked. Dear God! Rem thought. What had he done to deserve this agony? What had brought him to this—fixed to this triangle like a carcass nailed to a barn door.

He tasted blood as he bit down on his lip. Bile rose in his throat. He wouldn’t scream. Through the battering pain, he registered the quartermaster sergeant calling out stroke number thirty-six. Blood flowed freely down his back now, soaking his trousers.

The magistrate used the cat for revenge.  Rem’s offence was so piffling it was laughable—if a man felt like laughing, as the bird up yonder did. Fifty lashes were the most the magistrate had been able to impose for a single offence. Thank God.

Through the lancing pain, Rem knew he must not scream, must not blubber and forever be known as a crawler. Hanging onto consciousness by a thread, he sagged against the bloody, filthy bars of the triangle; a frame tainted by the blood of so many men, and now would carry his.

“Cut 'im down!” the scourger shouted, and through his agony Rem recognized his punishment had ended.

Tripping over the hole made by the scourger’s feet during the vile beating, Rem was kept upright by Scab and Salty, the only two men he could vaguely term as mates in this hell. In a flagrant act of disdain, he spat at the feet of the man who had inflicted the agony he now suffered as he stumbled and was half-dragged away. The man who gave him the “red shirt” swore viciously, and before he lost consciousness Rem warned himself to watch what he did in future. These bastards would soon have him back on the frame if he didn’t toe their line.

Chapter One

June 1826

Freedom was sweet.

The air was pungent after a short spell of rain. It was cold, the chill air biting, but Rem reckoned he’d never really feel the cold again. Not in this country, where the sun shone more often than not; where the coldest day only called for an extra layer of clothing. He had almost forgotten the biting winds and bone-chilling cold of London. The thoughts had receded into some dark corner of his mind, along with the memories that still periodically invaded his sleep. Memories of hunger and desperation; days of despair when he had wondered if life was worth all the bother entailed to get through each day.

“Uncle Remy, where are you?”

Rem grinned as he pushed himself onto his elbows. His nephew had sought him out again. Not that he minded; the boy was good company, always ready for a new lark. Seven come September, Tim was mature for his age. Boys grew up fast out here in this new land. Here a lad like Tim learned early on as they all did that he had to work the land; put every ounce of his energy into it to reap the benefits.

“Over here, lad.” Rem watched Tim, hair the color of ripened corn drooping over his forehead, trotting toward the riverbank. One of the sheepdogs, a black and white mongrel, loped at his heels. Tim always had a dog nearby and it would be strange to see him without one of his perpetual companions.

“What you doing sitting out here, Uncle Remy?” Tim squatted on his haunches by Rem’s side. “Mama was getting all of a fluster because you were supposed to be working on the new barn, and the foreman said you’d disappeared.”

“Not disappeared, boy, just taking a break. And, we both know your ma can get herself into a state over the simplest of things. Don’t the air smell good?” Rem put his head back and sniffed appreciatively.

Tim nudged him, sighing. “Air doesn’t smell, silly. The cattle stink, so do the horses after they do a business, but air hasn’t got a smell.”

Rem ruffled the golden hair. Pushing himself to his feet, he hauled Tim up with him. “Come on, let’s go make my sister happy,” he said, swinging Tim easily onto his back. He strode up the hill with his burden, the dog yelping at their heels. The boy gripped him about the middle with his knees and shouted encouragement at his mount.

His sister, Bella, four months along with her fourth child was at this irksome stage. Her husband Tiger was often off with his shepherds, laborers, or field hands, and at these times she liked to know Rem was near at hand.

Rem had been out here beyond Bathurst with them for a year now, and she still often stared at him as if she couldn’t quite believe they were together. He wasn’t surprised by that—he often had to pinch himself to prove it wasn’t a dream. At times he dreaded he would find himself in the hellish hold of the transport ship. Or worse, at Newcastle where he could even now be with the gangs quarrying stone or working down the coal mine. Worst of all he could be with the lime-burners; the convicts who burned the seashells used to manufacture the lime used as mortar. By all accounts, it was the vilest job a man could have.

Tiger could be a hard taskmaster at times, never letting him get off light with any job. Not that Rem would expect to. He would be eternally grateful for Tiger’s intervention on his behalf. Tiger had seen Rem released into his care when the authorities were just about to send Rem off to the hellhole Newcastle had become. If at times he got itchy feet and the tasks became tedious, Rem only had to recall the awful days spent on the treadmill in Sydney before coming out to Tiger and Bella’s property here, west of the Blue Mountain range.

Tiger had built Bella a fine house of stone, with two floors and a veranda that went right around its sides. It sat proudly on the ridge facing the river, outbuildings now springing up in its surrounds. The barn Rem was supposed to be helping to erect was the latest of these buildings.

“Here you go.” Rem helped Tim off his back as they reached the six steps that led up to the front porch.

“See you later,” the boy yelled as he ran off, his dog at his side.

“Where you off to in such a hurry?” Rem called after him. But Tim was already out of earshot, likely in a hurry to escape his mother’s schooling. Not that he would be able to do that for long, Bella was strict about his lessons and set aside at least three hours a day for that activity.

“Remy?” Bella’s sharp call brought him up short as he turned toward the almost completed barn.

“That’s me.” Changing direction, he grinned and mounted the steps. His sister stood by the open door, wiping her hands on the apron covering the front of her plain blue woolen dress. Rem didn’t think he’d ever get used to having such a beautiful woman for a sister. Those around her didn’t notice the limp she’d had since a bolting horse trampled her in Stepney years ago.

Her rich auburn hair formed a loose bun at the nape of her neck, but tendrils had escaped and framed her expressive face. Her green eyes sparked with merriment “Where did you sneak off to again?”

“I was just taking in the air, love. Isn’t it a fine day?” He half-closed his eyes, looking up to the sky, where not a smidgen of sun peeped through the gray clouds.

“Fine?” She made a disparaging sound in her throat. “You’ve got a vivid imagination.” There was a soft chiding note in her voice. His sister knew more than anyone that any day was fine while they were able to walk free and breathe the air of free men and women.

Yes, he was still a convict, with five years to go before he could claim his ticket of leave, but compared to life before Tiger rescued him, this was the next best thing to being able to hold his head up as a free man.

Bella’s nursemaid, Agnes, smiled shyly at Rem as she joined her mistress on the porch. Rosie, the eight-month-old and youngest of Bella and Tiger’s brood, rested on Agnes’ hip. Agnes, seventeen and a plain little thing, had been with Bella and Tiger since they set out on their epic journey across the mountains in 1824.

“Isn’t it a fine day?” Rem asked the girl, knowing she would agree with him if he declared it was as hot as hell, and the sun had blistered his skin. It was flattering to be idolized. Bothersome at times, but nonetheless a wonderful thing to have a female willing to do anything he asked. Some devil inside him often wanted to see to what lengths she would go to please him, although his kind heart wouldn’t allow him to do it.

“It certainly is,” Agnes agreed, as he’d known she would. “'Tis a bit cool, but that’s not to be sniffed at. Beats summer when the sun makes you shrivel.”

Agnes didn’t like the hot weather. She complained it burned her fair skin, brought her out in freckles, made her skin go blotchy, and made her feel weak as a dish rag. Although complained wasn’t the right word to use; Agnes never did anything quite so definite. She was too mousy and insignificant. A small apologetic grumble was about as close to a complaint she dared to venture.

Bella nodded to Rem and went back inside the house. Agnes’s skin turned to the color of a beet as she stared at Rem. Her eyelashes were so light they could barely be seen—this only added to her mouse-like appearance. She jerked the baby higher into her arms, and bobbed Rosie about on her ample hip until the child squealed. As if surprised at what she’d done, Agnes crooned soft words of apology to the baby.

Rem knew he shouldn’t do it, but the girl begged to be teased. Moving within a foot of her, he gave her the smile more than one maid told him was appealing. “How’s the little mother today?”

“I’m fine, and how are you?” She nibbled on her lower lip as her eyes adored him.

Rem shrugged. “Tell the truth, Aggie, I’m bored to my high teeth. There are few chances out here to ease the monotony. I know I should be grateful for Tiger taking me on and bringing me here, but I’m not made for the country life. I miss the noise and bustle of the city. Not that I wish to return to Stepney.” When she shook her head and gave him a look of condemnation that he could be so ungrateful, he hastened to add, “But a bit of excitement would add spice to this dull existence now and then. If you know what I mean?”

“Seems to me the city life only brought you into more strife than a body needs,” she scolded softly.

Rem moved in closer and ran a finger over the blush on her cheeks, chuckling at her huffy response. “True.”

Glancing about, he bent in closer, until he almost touched noses with her. He could feel the heat coming off her rounded body, could practically feel the shiver he guessed ran through her at his closeness. “But there’s strife, an’ then there’s other things the town has to offer.”

“Rem O’Shea, seems to me you don’t know when you’re well off.” She hunched a shoulder when he continued to stroke her cheek, but she didn’t step out of his range, as any city miss would have done. She was a sweet little chit, unworldly and naïve.

Rosie reached out to grab at his hair, and he laughed as he took the tiny fist into his hand and kissed the tips of her fingers, which pleased the child, and made Agnes tremble even more.

“Oh, I know well enough. But don’t you yearn for a bit of excitement in your life now and then, Aggie girl?” He watched with a kind of fascination as the blush fluctuated on her face. What a shame she wasn’t more prepossessing. What a pity he didn’t share her infatuation. That at least would ease the boredom that gripped him at times until he could yell. Of course, he liked to think he wasn’t so fickle all he thought of was a wench’s looks, but her temperament was so bland. Rem liked his women with fire and fervor and a temper to match his own.

“Excitement? I get more than my fair share of that chasing after young Tim, Annie, and this little 'un.” She glanced at the babe in her arms, smiling down at Rosie affectionately. The child pinched Agnes’ nose, making it turn an unbecoming shade of red. “Then there’ll be another one come November, so I’ll have my hands full.”

“Mm, my sister and Tiger certainly are helping to populate this part of the world, ain’t they?” He laughed, chucking Rosie beneath the chin. “But looking after toddlers and tots ain’t my idea of fun, Aggie. I had something different in mind.” He eyed her plain garb, scuffed boots, and mobcap. Her clothes did nothing to enhance her round shape. “Don’t you ever want to dress up and traipse around like the gentry?”

“I’m not gentry, and can’t see the point in yearning after the impossible,” she stated pragmatically, shrugging. “I’m happy to have a good home here with the missus and master. And you should be too.”

Rem sighed and turned to stare where the mountains loomed in the distance, like an impenetrable barrier between him and the excitement he craved. She was right, of course.  He should be happy, but he yearned for so much more out of life than tending sheep and building barns and tilling the soil. Tiger was happy enough building his empire, and Bella was content to stand at his side and bear his children. If only Rem didn’t have to wait another five years to gain his ticket of leave, and his freedom.

Without another word he sauntered off to the barn, hands dug deep into the pockets of his breeches.

* * *

Agnes watched his broad back, her eyes feasting on the strong length of his legs, the width of his shoulders, his head of rich dark red hair that reminded her of burnished chestnuts when the sun caught it, turning it to flame. The familiar yearning weighed heavily on her heart. If only she were even slightly pretty. If only she were more intelligent and bright as a penny, as were most other girls of her age. She’d learned a lot sitting in on lessons the mistress gave Tim every day, but knew she was still as unworldly as when first plucked from the orphanage nearly two years ago by the master, to come here over the mountains with them as nursemaid.

There weren’t many young females around these parts, but the few who had come west with their kin were certainly more fetching than she, with her ordinary brown hair and face that wouldn’t stand out in any crowd, large or small. Her bosom was too big for her body, making her top-heavy, or so it seemed. Her behind stuck out so she looked like one of the ducks waddling about. That the babies fitted snugly on her over-large hips was about all that could be said in her body’s favor. Even if she forced herself into a corset, she doubted she would look any more attractive. No, an ugly duckling she was, never to become a swan.

With a drawn-out sigh, she pressed a kiss on Rosie’s cheek. This would likely be her lot in life. To look after other folk’s children, to die an old spinster out here in the wilds; never to know the joy of nursing her own babe at her breast.

“No use pining for things that will never be, eh?” she asked the child as she stepped back inside and walked along the passage stretching from the front to the back of the lower floor of the house. Entering the kitchen, she put a bright smile on her face.

The family’s second child, Annie, who would be two-years-old in a month, sat on a rug near the stove that threw out a welcoming heat; the rag doll Agnes had made for Annie’s last birthday was cradled in her arms.

The mistress was helping Gracie prepare dinner. The smell of roasting lamb filled the air. Gracie, in her fifty-seventh year, was as cheerful as a rooster surrounded by hens, and never seemed to yearn for things beyond her reach. Gracie came over on the same transport ship as the mistress, and the two were as close as two women could get without being sisters.

“'Ullo dearly,” she chirped. “'Ow’s about a cup o’ tea, eh?” That was Gracie’s answer to all ills.  

Agnes pulled a face. Gracie was unmarried and seemed happy enough with her lot in life. She received an offer of marriage in Sydney, but chose to turn her suitor down in preference of joining the mistress in this part of the world the master was slowly taming.

“Thank you,” Agnes said as the older woman put the steaming cup on the table. Bending, Agnes put Rosie in the cradle. She sat down and sipped the drink, one foot rocking the cradle, her mind on the tall man with shining red hair who held her heart in his capable hands but didn’t want it.

 

Chapter Two

July 2 1826

Rem stared at Sara Greenwood, unable to take his eyes off this beauty. She was, without a doubt, the most entrancing creature he’d ever seen. With hair and eyes as black as sin and flawless skin like pure porcelain, her face was that of a goddess. A bloom on her cheeks gave her face a vital sheen of good health. How his fingers itched to unpin her silken tresses from their neat coils. He ached to touch that skin to see if it felt as soft and downy as it looked.

She carried her youth and beauty with a proud bearing missing in so many of the young women in the colony; these women brooded and sulked, despairing of their lot in life after being dragged to this awful continent by their fathers against their will. Most had pasty faces they kept well hidden beneath large-brimmed bonnets to shield them from the sun they saw as an enemy to their complexions.

Rem thanked God it was a Sunday, and they allowed him to join the small gathering. The thought he might have missed meeting this goddess made him shudder. Tiger made a habit of inviting all newcomers to the district to his and Bella’s home soon after their arrival. The Greenwoods had recently settled here after living in Sydney for five years. Bella met them briefly on a trip into town, and Rem knew by her remarks she wasn’t particularly enamoured of Edmund Greenwood or his timid wife Eleanor. Rem couldn’t give a damn about them, but was already half in love with their daughter.

“So charmed to meet you,” Sara was saying to Bella and Tiger, who were decked out in the finery kept solely for such occasions.

Extending her long, slender fingers, Sara took their welcoming outstretched hands one after the other. Turning to Rem, she offered the same delicate hand, and he bowed over it reverently. Her scent filled his nostrils, battered at his senses. Like a garden in full bloom, or a bowl of roses. Not very poetic, he knew, but she would forever remind him of a spring day; an English one, where rosebuds sent out their fragrance to entice the bees, and butterflies were entranced by the colours.

Rem realized his breathing was as uneven as his heartbeat. As he straightened, their eyes met, and for one infinitesimal moment Rem felt sure a message passed between them. Could she be as smitten as he?

“We are delighted to meet you at last,” Bella said, and for a moment, Rem wondered what she was talking about. So entranced was he, everything had gone out of his head, except this vision of loveliness.

“How do you find it here in Bathurst?” Bella asked graciously as they all took seats on the porch.

Sara spread the skirt of her blue dress about her knees, her dainty feet clad in black pumps peeped beneath the hem. Those bewitching eyes, filled with a sort of devilment met Rem’s as Bella continued, “I’m so glad the weather has seen fit to hold.” She looked to the sky, where a weak winter sun tried its damnedest to shine through the gray clouds.

“As I’m mighty glad it’s decided not to rain before we’ve had a chance to settle in our house,” Sara’s burly father said, as he settled his large frame on a chair, and huffed. “I must say I’m also glad we brought plenty of help with us to this godforsaken neck of the woods.” He had a perpetual air of grievance about him, as if the world should have tried harder to do better by him.

“'Tis a good life, once you grow used to it, and if you’re prepared to work hard for what you wish to attain, it’s very rewarding,” Tiger said, looking out over his land. It was obvious to Rem his brother-in-law was no more enamored of this man than he was. Edmund Greenwood was brusque to the point of rudeness and loud-mouthed. How did an ugly brutish man manage to sire an angel like Sara? And how did her meek and homely mother ever produce such a beauty? Perhaps she had been adopted. The thought made him smile, and he glanced over at his angel in time to see her watching him, her delicate brows raised.

Turning to Sara’s mother, Bella offered, “You must call on me for any help you need. We lean on each other out here where months can go by without us seeing anyone from the other side of the mountains.”

 The pallid, insignificant woman looked to be about sixty in age, but was more than likely only in her forties. Rem suspected years of living with a boor had etched those deep lines on her face. Her pinched mouth looked forever on the verge of protest. Though, Rem doubted she would ever dare to come forth with a complaint.

“Thank you.” The words came out on a thready whisper. Glancing up like a scared hare, Mrs. Greenwood added, “I didn’t want to come,” earning a wrathful glare from her husband.

“Balderdash!” Edmund waved an arm, his brows beetling, and she seemed to shrivel even more. “You’ll soon get used to it. And with kindly ladies like Mrs. Carstairs here” —he gave Bella a sickly, condescending glance—“you’ll soon acclimatize.”

“I found it very strange when I first arrived in the colony.” Bella smiled at Mrs. Greenwood, and Rem thought, for the umpteenth time, what a lovely woman his sister was. “And please call me Bella,” she invited. “Everyone does. We don’t stand on ceremony here. Being so isolated we have to become friends.”

Rem wondered if these people knew his sister and her husband had both been convicts, sent to the colony by the British Government, same as he had. No doubt they did, for news travelled fast despite the great distances. Gossip was rife among the Exclusives and the Emancipists.

“‘Course you did. We all have to learn to change.” Edmund gave his wife a look that said she would have to change, or accept his wrath. Her hands trembled, and she twined them together on her lap.

“And how do you like living so far from the town?” Rem turned to ask the beauty seated beside him.

She shrugged. Her pouting lips were as soft, full, and pink as the rosebuds she smelt of. His insides ached with the desire to see if they tasted half as sweet as they looked. Jesus, he wanted to ravish her, to strip her and taste every part of the delectable body he knew the wool of her garment hid.

Her eyes slid from his dark red curls to the boots he was glad he’d polished for the occasion. Something deep inside him began to shake with his response.

Barely past her seventeenth birthday, so Bella had told him, and already she wore the look of a woman in control of her life and her responses. How he would like to help her lose her cool control. He made up his mind that would be his driving purpose in life from now on; sure in his conceit he would win her no matter what.

“I would have liked to stay in Sydney Town. I have my governess and companion still, who accompanied us over here, so I will have to bear it. For a while.” She sounded utterly bored, and Rem wanted to stand up and shout that he would take her wherever she yearned to go.

Her father gave her another of his wrathful glares and boomed, “Bear it, will you? 'Tis my belief there’s too many wrong 'uns in the town now. Wanted to stay over there, they did.” He jerked his head toward his long-suffering wife and his beautiful daughter and snorted. “You talk some sense into them, madam.” His smile reminded Rem of a conniving crook.

“I wasn’t too happy about leaving the town myself,” Bella said, giving Tiger the special smile she kept for her husband; one that left everyone else out of the loving and intimate world the two shared.

Rem now knew the full story of how Bella lost her first husband, Dougal, and her second-born son Dougie, on the dreadful journey across the mountains to settle over here. She battled Tiger every step of the way in those days, fighting her love for him. Rem knew that now she wouldn’t consider going back to town, even if Tiger was to give her the option, which Rem knew he wouldn’t. His life was here now, with his family, expanding his empire. Oh, they argued often still, but their fights were the quarrels of lovers; and any onlooker, including himself, always knew the rows were made up as only lovers’ tiffs could be reconciled.

“As with all things, it becomes better once you grow used to the isolation,” Bella continued. “We have quite a few families settled here now. Our small community manages to get along despite the differences in our backgrounds.”

“‘Course they do,” Edmund bellowed, as if no one would dare to argue the case with him.

“I hear you left a manager in charge of your business in town,” Tiger said, successfully managing to conceal the disdain Rem knew Tiger felt for this brash man. Rem guessed this was likely now multiplied after seeing the way Edmund treated his wife and daughter.

“That’s right.” Greenwood preened as he smiled condescendingly. Tiger had told Rem and Bella of how Greenwood arrived in Sydney five years ago as a free man and opened a store stocked with merchandise purchased cheaply at ports of call on the voyage over.

“My emporium is one of the largest and most successful now,” he boasted. Grimacing, he shook his head. “If only we didn’t have to put up with so much riff-raff in the people I’m forced to employ.”

Tiger looked toward the mutton, roasting above a fire next to the garden, Bella’s pride and joy. One of the hands signaled it was ready. “It looks as if the meat is about done.”

They strolled to a table laid with cloth and cutlery, where Rem ensured he sat beside his beautiful enchantress. He saw Bella’s raised eyebrows, but chose to take no notice of his sister’s silent warning.

Gracie began to serve, aided by one of the new women brought from Sydney recently to help with the household chores. They served steaming dishes of turnips, carrots, and potatoes.

“You might be wishing you'd stayed in Sydney, but I can’t tell you how happy I am you're here.” Rem gave Sara his most beguiling smile, one nurtured in the past year. Agnes, usually the recipient of such smiles, tended the children at a smaller table set aside for them. Her antipathy toward the beauty at Rem’s side was blatant. If looks were daggers, Sara would have been dead within five minutes of Agnes setting sight on her. Poor insignificant Agnes.

“I don’t know which is worse, to be candid. I wished we’d never come out to this country of savages, but my father was convinced a fortune was waiting to be made.” She flicked a glance at her father, now boring Tiger with a discourse on trading practices. Tiger’s expression clearly showed his indifference to her father’s monologue.

“And has he made his fortune yet?” Rem didn’t take his eyes from her face. Every move she made entranced him more and more. He couldn’t give a brass farthing for her father’s possessions, but anything that got her talking was worth the effort.

“He’s wealthy, if that’s what you mean. My mother and I are allowed to purchase whatever we need to make us presentable in society.”

“Society?” Rem laughed, glancing about. “Hardly that out here.”

She picked sparingly at the food set before her. “You’re right. We could all walk around in plain clothes and not give a fig for our appearance, and who would know or care? It really is a land of savages.” The poignancy of her quiet statement struck him in the heart.

“I would care.” Rem stared at her hard, and thought, such a hothouse plant should be pampered and spoiled, brought up amongst the society in London, not dragged to a godforsaken place like this. “Never change, sweet Sara. Always stay as beautiful and elegantly attired as you are now, no matter the cost or effort. Promise me.”

“All right. I will promise you that.” Her small laugh made his gut wrench. “Will you show me around the property?” she asked, glancing down the table.

The meal was almost at an end, and the others were still engrossed in a debate on the merits of sheep farming versus trading; Tiger enthusing about the price of fleece on the English market.

She had a way of fluttering her eyelashes that sent Rem’s heart into a spin. Trying not to show his eagerness, and thus appearing like a smitten schoolboy, Rem rose slowly, bowing over her hand. “I would be honored.” He pressed a kiss on her knuckle and was pleased to see her soft cheeks turn delightfully pink.

“Where are you off to?” Edmund bellowed, interrupting their discussion, as she settled her skirts about her with a pat of the hand.

Rem held his breath, expecting her father’s annoyance to deter her, but then she said sweetly, “Rem is going to show me around, Papa,” and gave Edmund a peck on his florid cheek. She smiled demurely at Bella. “And I need to walk after such a splendid meal. Thank you, Mrs. Carstairs. It was most enjoyable. But I shouldn’t have eaten so much.”

“Please call me Bella,” Bella insisted, waving them on their way. “Go on with you, and enjoy your stroll.” Rem grinned at Bella’s meaningful look. A look that clearly stated he was to watch his step with this beauty, or bear the wrath of her father.

Rem knew Greenwood wouldn’t make a scene in front of Bella and Tiger and smiled to himself. “Come, I’ll show you the orchard Tiger planted soon after they arrived here.” Offering his arm, he inhaled her fragrance as she hooked her hand in his elbow.

When they were out of earshot of the others, he said softly, “You smell as sweet as a garden full of blooms.” 

She tapped him on the chest with her fan and smiled, showing dear little dimples in her cheeks. “Hmm.” With a chuckle, she wrinkled her nose pertly. “I’m surprised I don’t stink like one of the horses, considering our mode of transport.”

“There’s no decent lanes or carriage ways yet. It’s difficult for you to be jolted over the stubble in your wagon. Tiger’s working hard at improving that. Soon there’ll be a passable road connecting the properties on this side of the river. You should have seen it last year when I arrived.”

“Is that how long you’ve been here?”

“Eighteen months to be precise. The house was half-built, and we lived in sod huts.” He grimaced.

“Don’t you get bored out here in the middle of nowhere?” she asked as he led her around the almond trees toward where the stone-fruit trees grew. They were well away from the house now, and he looked over his shoulder to see if they could be watched from the table.

“Truth is, bored out of my head, Sara.” With a hand on her back he propelled her to a seat Tiger had positioned for Bella in the shade of what would eventually be a flourishing apple tree. She shivered, and he asked, “Are you warm enough?”

“It is cooler here.” She hugged her arms across her chest.

“Would you like to go back?” he asked, praying she would say no.

“No, would you?” Slanting him a provocative look, she flashed him a wicked smile, her dimples more pronounced.

“I want nothing more than to be here with you.” Rem took off his jacket and draped it across her shoulders. “Is that better?”

“Much.” She shrugged into its warmth. “Now you’ll be cold.”

“Me? Not while I’m this close to you. You set my blood afire, did you know that?” Rem longed to plant a kiss on one of those indentations on her cheek, to explore it with his tongue. He held her gaze and reached for one of her dainty hands.

Her chuckle was charming as she tapped him again with the fan. “Gentlemen aren’t supposed to say things like that to ladies,” she admonished, but he got the distinct impression she wasn’t the least affronted by his bluntness.

“I ain’t a gentleman, Sara. I’m a convict, plain and simple. Does that bother you?” Sitting beside her, he pressed his thigh to her skirts. She didn’t move away, although her look said she was slightly shocked.

“No, it doesn’t bother me. Unless, of course, you intend to act like one and be brutish. What did you do to get transported?” she asked.

Rem shrugged. “Same as most. Not a lot. Pinched food to help my family. Most convicts are just like me, ordinary men and women charged with transportation for petty crimes.” The memories, dulled in the past year, resurfaced. “Papa died in prison, our mum died the year I was sent out here, and one of our sisters died of starvation and the cold.” Rem grimaced as he remembered the awful winters they had to endure; winters with no food, no heat, and the threat of disease a part of their everyday existence.

“How sad.” She seemed genuinely appalled by his plight. “So is Bella all the family you have left?”

“No. We have another two sisters and two brothers still in Stepney, although Carlos, the eldest, will more than likely end up here soon. Likely the others will too eventually. It’s the way of things. A fact of life.”

“Carlos? What a foreign-sounding name. Why would your brother be named such?” Her limpid eyes turned on him inquisitively.

“Our papa was Spanish.” Her eyes widened, and Rem quickly asked, “Does that bother you?”

“Bother me? Why no.” With a careless flick of the hand, she said, “But it does surprise me. Although it shouldn’t really, for your sister’s name, Isabella, is Spanish, is it not?”

“Right.”

“And now that I look at you closely, I can see you do have the appearance about you unlike most of the English men here in the colony.” Her gaze roved over his face. He sincerely hoped she liked what she saw.

“And is my different look distasteful to you?” Rem knew he was seeking compliments from her, but couldn’t help himself. How he yearned for her to be as entranced as he was by everything about her.

“Distasteful? Why of course not.” Leaning closer, she said in a husky tone that set his pulses to racing and his heart pounding at a fierce rate, “You're extremely handsome of face. But I expect you’ve been told so by countless women.” With a sniff, she looked swiftly away.

Rem chuckled, feeling ten feet tall. “A few have assured me I’m not ugly. In truth, you’re the first to tell me I’m handsome,” he lied. “And I can’t say how much it pleases me to know you admire my looks, for I must tell you that I find you the most entrancing woman on earth. You’re beautiful, clever, witty…”

“Stop.” With a laugh, she held up both hands then tapped him on his knee. “You’ll turn my head with your compliments.”

“I only speak the truth.” Rem bent his head to whisper near her shell-shaped ear, “I love you with all my heart. And when I’m out of my term and a free man; then I’ll ask your father for your sweet hand.” He placed a kiss on her knuckle, and a tremor raced over her skin. He hoped it wasn’t just the cool air causing it.  He hoped she was as enamored of him as he was of her. “Will you wait for me?”

Her eyes widened at his impudence, but he knew without being told that his words captured her interest. “What nonsense. How can you speak of love, Remy? You’ve only just met me. How can you possibly have such strong feelings for me on such a short acquaintance?”

“Love knows no boundaries, of time or place. I’ll feel the same fifty years from now as I feel at this moment,” he swore with fervour, cupping her chin with his palm. Strangely, he knew his words were true. He had felt a strong attraction for a few women before, but nothing like this all-encompassing devotion that seemed to fill all his senses.

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A sneak peek at A Troubled Heart—Tricia McGill

 

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For some reason I am fascinated with the history of this vast country of Australia where my long-suffering husband and I made our home many moons ago. So it is that my latest book is set in Tasmania when it was more or less the last place in Australia where the British Government had decided to send their surplus convicts. In 1848, my hero Finn is a prisoner of this Government at the infamous penal penitentiary of Port Arthur. The Port Arthur settlement started life as a small timber station around 1830. The settlement was hacked from the bushland and the first decade saw the growth of manufactories like ship building, shoemaking amongst others. The hospital where my hero first meets Blythe was built around the same time as a flour mill in 1842. My second favourite state, Tasmania is a beautiful and serene place, far removed from how it was in those early days of settlement.

“If a book such as this can win over a non-romance reader such as myself, I’m certain that you will enjoy it as well. My rating: 5 out of 5” Literary Gold

A Troubled Heart Excerpt:

Chapter One

Port Arthur Tasmania 1848 

Through a haze he could hear a voice somewhere above him, and although vaguely aware that someone had called his name all else was lost in pain. The sweat on his face began to sizzle with the heat—or so it seemed. As he opened his eyes a fraction of this sweat ran into their corners and began to sting as if boiling his eyeballs to add to the sawdust already there, or perhaps it was blood.

“Hang on Finn, yer silly bugger, they’ve gone to fetch ‘elp.” The speaker then disappeared and Finn tried to move, but he had to grit his teeth as a searing pain shot through his shoulder and down his arm.

Heaven knew, he’d had his share of agony and discomfort since coming to this godawful place, but this topped it for certain. To take his mind off it he tried to think of better moments in his life, but they were sparce, far back and almost all lost in time.

A sudden movement beside him in the sawpit alerted him that someone had jumped into the pit and was now leaning over him in the narrow space. “Well, here’s a fine mess you’ve got yourself into young fellow,” a kindly voice said. “How in heaven did you manage to do this to yourself? They said you was the top man, so how come you ended up down here amid the sawdust and dirt?” Patting Finn on the unhurt shoulder, he added, “I’m what’s the nearest to what can be called a doctor here today, they call me Johnson.”

Finn squinted up to see that this Johnson was not a lot older than himself, and was likely nearing his thirtieth year. His mop of unruly hair drooped over his forehead as he began to use a knife to hack his way through Finn’s shirt sleeve, and Finn gritted his teeth as the pain seemed to worsen. To add to his injury was the knowledge that he’d done this damage by his own foolishness. If he hadn’t been larking about as usual to show how handy he was with his fists, none of this would have come about. Never one to shirk from a fight, when the big oaf they called Bear started to taunt him, of course he could not back down from the inevitable.

“You’ve lost a small amount of blood from your forehead, but as far as I can see it’s just where you caught the log on your way down.” Turning to rummage about in a small bag he had at his side this Johnson fellow produced a piece of rag and then began to wipe away at the blood. “I fear the problem with your arm could be a lot worse—probably broken.” The searing pain when he moved that arm made Finn flinch and Johnson apologised. “It’s as I expected, we’ll have to get you off to the infirmary.” Patting Finn’s shoulder he said with a small laugh, “This’ll stop you fighting for a while,” then apologised again, adding, “Sorry, my attempt at humour.”

As another shape appeared above him Finn recognised it as his Scottish working mate Spence who then dropped down to stand at his side opposite the man tending him. “We’ll have to haul you up, matey, so grit yer teeth, eh?” Finn’s teeth ached already with the gritting. “How the bloody hell you managed to get yourself in this mess, I can’t work out. It’s not as if you don’t know how to look after yourself. Mucking about never did you any good, and if I told you once I told you a million times, stick to the rules.”

“’Twas that big oaf Bear, if he hadn’t delivered that mighty punch that knocked me sideways and down here, I would have beaten him to next week. Doc here says it’s not that bad—that’s right isn’t it, doc?” Finn grimaced as he tried to push himself up onto his good elbow.

“Well, honestly, I’ve seen many worse. You were unfortunate that you didn’t pick a more suitable spot for your match.”

Someone up above then tossed a rope down, ordering, “Tie it round his shoulders, Spence, and we’ll haul him up.”

Finn had a feeling he might have passed out as he was dragged up out of the pit, only just being squeezed past the huge log that they had been in the process of sawing through when the accident happened. “Guess it could have been worse, matey—if the log had fallen in on top of yer,” one of the haulers said as they lay him down beside the pit.

This cheerful observation accompanied by a chuckle did nothing to ease the guilt Finn felt. If they had been working on this one for longer and had cut further through it, the log would have fallen onto Spence, and his mate would not now be alive and kicking. He could only offer thanks that they had only started sawing a short time before his silly argument with Bear. Cursing his idiocy for allowing the big idiot to stir him so, he vowed never to be so daft next time.

As Johnson gave orders for Finn to be assisted to the small cart that stood a short distance away, Finn saw Bear standing some distance back laughing his stupid head off and Finn knew his vow would never be kept. “How long before I can get back to work, Doc?” he asked, as Johnson clicked the horse into a walk, once he’d ensured Finn was comfortably settled behind him.

Johnson laughed. “In a hurry to get back to the job, are you? I would have thought you would welcome a stay in hospital to get away from the horrible tasks set upon you?”

“Oh, it’s not so bad working out here amid the trees, a lot better than working on the new prison they are building.” There were times when Finn almost relished the tough going. “It beats the work we were set to up north by a long way, or working on the treadmill all day.”

“You came down from Sydney Town, did you, when they decided to close it?”

“Yes, and it won’t be long afore I will be a free man. Done my ten years haven’t I?”

“Goodness, ten, eh? You must have been a young ‘un when they sent you here.”

Finn chuckled. “That’s a fact. Think I was about fifteen. Never know for sure as I wasn’t certain when I was born.”

“You aren’t alone in that fact, Finn, many of the men in the prison yonder would have no idea when they were brought into this world. One good thing about it is you never have a birthdate to celebrate so don’t notice the years passing.”

Finn said nothing to that as Johnson pulled the horse up in front of the hospital. No doubt this man had never been locked away in pitch black solitude where all you had to do was count the hours and the minutes as they ticked away. Johnson jumped down, and awkwardly Finn did the same. Together they walked towards the brick structure that Finn thought was one of the ugliest buildings he had ever seen. The pain in his arm had subsided and only ached when he moved it, but he wasn’t about to say anything as a night in hospital as the doc said would not be hard to take. Anything was better than sleeping amid the stench of the other men he usually shared his sleeping quarters with.

“I’ll leave you here with this capable young man,” Johnson said after he’d explained to the fellow who met them as they came in just what he thought was Finn’s injury. With a small salute he walked off.

“Can you write?” the man who was some sort of nurse or orderly asked, after he’d led Finn into a room and told him to sit down.

“Yes, I can.” Finn felt quite indignant.  Being treated like a child irked him. “I’ve been reading and writing since I was this high.” He signalled a spot about knee high. That wasn’t strictly true for he hadn’t properly learned his letters until he was likely ten or more.

“Write your name here, then.” The orderly pointed to the page lying on a table. “What’s your sentence? Got much longer to serve, have you?”

“My time is just about up.” Finn squared his shoulders, and a twinge of pain reminded him why he was here. “Should get my pardon any day now.”

“Right ho.” The fellow peered down at the sheet of paper. “Finn O’Connor, you wait here and someone will come along and see what needs to be done.” As Finn sat on a bench, he walked out carrying the page.

The next day Finn walked out of the hospital with the proof that he was a free man tucked firmly into his trouser pocket. As luck would have it the injury had turned out to be not broken, but something to do with the shoulder joint having to be pushed back into its rightful position. The doctor who did this told him he had dislocated it when he fell. After the pain from that subsided, he was told to rest it as much as possible. So, no more fighting for some time, was the order given him. 

It appeared that when his name came before the Commissariat’s office, they realised that his ten-year sentence ended a month or so back and therefore he was deemed free to go wherever he wanted. Just one thing held him back, he had not one penny to his name and possessed just the rags that he stood up in. A young nurse had found him a shirt somewhere to replace the one the doc cut about, but it was not a lot better than the old one. There was the bundle he carried that contained his mug and plate, a worn hairbrush he’d taken from a man who died, and a picture Finn collected somewhere along the way of a place in Ireland called Kilmallock that he kept, as it looked like a nice place to live.

As he pondered what to do next, a soft mutter of annoyance came from behind him and he turned in time to see a woman take a tumble. Landing in a heap at the foot of the steps, her skirts flew about, showing a glimpse of one perfectly shaped ankle. Seldom did females of good breeding travel about alone in these parts so he looked about to see if her carriage driver was here to assist her. A small cart stood not far away, but there was no one else in sight so he went to kneel at her side, asking, “Are you all right miss?”

With a small toss of the head, she looked up at him from the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen. Hair as black as night was pulled back into some sort of roll behind her head beneath the bonnet that she hastily straightened. At a guess he thought perhaps she was about twenty years of age. Not used to being this close to a woman in some time he stood hurriedly and offered a hand, feeling like the idiot he knew she must think him, while he sent up a small prayer of thanks that at least the hand was cleaner than it had been yesterday.

As she took the outstretched hand she smiled, and Finn’s silly heart seemed to do a somersault. “Just feeling a bit stupid,” she said in what Finn called a posh English accent. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

When she stood—close enough for him to feel her sweet breath on his face, he realised he still held her hand and dropped it as if it was a piece of hot coal. “Easily done,” he muttered, looking about again as he asked, “Is your driver somewhere?” again feeling foolish for obviously nobody else was nearby.

“No, I came alone.” Holding a small package aloft she added, “Simply came along to pick up this medication for the small girl who is in my charge.” Brushing at her skirts, she looked around. “Are you waiting on someone?”

“No, I have just come from the infirmary too—only this was because in my foolishness I had a fall and injured my shoulder.” Lifting this arm as if to prove it was also all right, he dropped it swiftly, not knowing what to do or say next, and asked, “Might I ask why you are not afraid of me, Miss? Most females might be inclined to run swiftly from a man alone in these parts.” A stupid blush rushed to his cheeks and he cursed his fair skin and light hair, not for the first time, as he turned away in the hope of hiding his face.

At her small laugh he turned back. “Exactly that, sir, you are alone, and I know that had you been a criminal you would most likely have been on the way back to the prison accompanied by a guard—am I correct?”

Finn stared at her. No females that he had come into contact with—and they were few and far between—had been anything like this one. “I’ve just gained my freedom, Miss, and am wondering where to go and what to do.” Feeling the need to prove the truth of this he delved into his pocket and brought out the precious paper and held it aloft.

With barely a glance at it, she laughed again and asked, “So where do you think you will decide on? It’s a long trek to Hobart where most seem to head once gaining their release.”

Another surprising statement from her. Pushing the paper back into his pocket, he glanced about. “I doubt my meagre funds will take me as far as Hobart at this time—perhaps later. I need to find employment first and foremost.”

“Ah, yes.” With a finger to her chin, she appeared to be making a decision before she said, “The family I am employed by are in need of a man capable of doing a variety of jobs around their small property, perhaps that would suit. The husband is away a lot about his business and his wife sadly hit a decline after giving birth, and therefore is scared of going out and about, so you would have to prove you are trustworthy.”

“And how would I do that, Miss? It’s a fact that we are not given a recommendation on receiving our freedom.”

With a twist of the mouth as if indicating that she was thinking about that, she looked him up and down before saying, “I will vouch for you. Sadly, your clothing gives away the fact that you have been a convict.” Shaking her head she added, “I have an idea. We will soon find a solution to that.”

Mystified that a complete stranger—and a female at that—should be so trusting, he blurted, “I could be a murderer for all you know. Why would you help me in this way?”

“I hope I am a good judge of character, and I know a bit about the past of most who gain their freedom. My Papa was a medical man. We relocated here to Port Arthur in forty-five after the hospital was built and he told me tales of men who were transported for the silliest of crimes. So, what was your crime? Steal a loaf of bread did you, or something just as trifling?” Without waiting for his response, she turned and with a wave of the hand said, “Look, I have to get back or my mistress will start panicking, so are you interested or not?” She headed towards the cart, where the horse was in the middle of a nap, its head bent.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Finn trailed after her. Surely this young female was perhaps mad or was she a gift from the gods? Without assistance she climbed aboard the small vehicle and picked up the reins as she sat back on the bench. As he joined her, she asked, “So what name do you go by? Mine’s Esther by the way.”

“Pleased to meet you, Esther.” With a feeling he had drifted into some strange other world, he added, “I go by Finn O’Connor.” The Finn part was probably fact. As for his surname, he had no idea who had called him that somewhere along the way in his growing years, but he kept it as a way to prove that he was born in Ireland. As the horse began to trot, he asked, “You said your Pa was a medical man—is he not one anymore?”

“Sadly, for me, my dear Papa, along with my Mama, was killed just last year when the carriage they were in overturned after hitting a rock.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. It must have been awful for you. Are you alone now or do you have siblings?”

After a deep sigh, she admitted, “It was the worst time of my life—and no I have no brothers or sisters. That of course is why I am employed as companion of sorts to the girl in need of the medication I was sent to collect. It’s a shame, but she is currently a sickly child and has a nasty cough.”

“So, you not only lost your parents, you also lost your home?” Although he had never known what it was to have a real family, nonetheless a place somewhere near Finn’s heart ached for this young girl who had hers snatched away so cruelly.

Without answering that, she gestured ahead to where a cottage surrounded by a few trees sat atop a slight knoll. “We have arrived,” she said as she pulled up a short distance from a gate in the fence surrounding the garden. “Say little to my mistress, but let me explain to her that you are looking for employment.” Finn nodded, still feeling as if he was in the middle of some strange dream. “Please wait here while I go and fetch you something more presentable to wear. I suppose you realise that you look far worse than a farmer’s scarecrow in those filthy rags.” The look of scorn she sent to his trousers made him realise such if her words had not.

As she walked off, he scratched at his head, knowing at least his hair and body were now clean after the nights’ stay in the infirmary. Was there no end to the oddness of this female? Where on earth would she find clothing for him? Surely not from her employer’s wardrobe?

And how could she be so trusting of a complete stranger and an ex-con at that. If he found the will to do it, he could jump onto her cart and urge the horse away as fast as it could go. Common sense kicked in just as fast as that idea hit him—the troopers would be after him in no time and it was doubtful if the guards would let him pass the place called Eaglehawk Neck anyway, where it was rumoured they kept starving dogs tethered, not to mention the guards who were reported to be no better than savages. And with no money or chance to earn some, about the only option available would be to join up with a gang of bushrangers or the like.

Then there was the matter of this girl who was close to being the best person he had ever come across. She soon returned as he stood rubbing the soft nose of the horse whose warm breath was strangely comforting. Pressing the bundle she held beneath her arm into Finn’s arms, she advised, “Go behind that tree and change, then wait for my return.” Speechless he obeyed, watching her as she led the horse around the fence, disappearing behind the house.

The trousers were of good quality, and she had even provided him with an undergarment such as he had never worn in all his adult years. The shirt he tucked into the belt of these trousers felt soft as butterfly wings against his skin. Lastly, he pulled on a waistcoat, just as she called out, “Are you ready?”

Picking up his ragged trousers and holey shirt he rolled them into a ball before going to stand before her. “I have to ask you, miss, whose togs do I have the pleasure of wearing?”

Sucking her bottom lip in she nodded as she ran her eyes up and down his length. “They were my Pa’s. As luck would have it, I was loathe to part with all of my parents’ belongings after their unfortunate death. I am happy that they fit you well. My Papa was also a big man.” Turning abruptly, she waved over her shoulder. “Come, we will go and present you to my mistress. Leave your discarded things there beneath that tree and you can burn them later.” Stopping before the doorway she said, “I unfortunately have no boots that I could get for you.”

“That’s fine. I got these from a bloke who lost a bet not too long ago.” Truth was the fellow who owned them died, and Finn had to fight a couple of the other men who were set on getting them.

“I told my mistress that I met you on the road. Say that you are seeking work and can do most jobs around the house and outside. Do not mention that you have only recently been given your freedom.”

As he followed her, Finn took in the house before them. By no means a rich man’s property, it was a sturdy cottage which he presumed had been provided for the master of the house on coming to take up his post in the area, whatever that was. As they went beneath the small porch and through the doorway, the smell of cooking coming from somewhere at the back of the house was welcoming and his mouth watered as the thought of a good home-cooked meal made him glad this girl had brought him here, if nothing else mapped out.

A small girl came from one of the rooms and eyed him warily as she demanded, “Who’s that?”

“Now Becky, don’t be rude, I taught you better manners than that. This is Finn and he is going to work for your Mama.” Wrinkling her tiny nose, the child sent Finn a frown before following his rescuer through a doorway.

A long time had passed since Finn stood inside such a building, in fact the courthouse where his sentence was announced those ten years ago was the last place where he’d come up against members of the gentry. It was obvious by the scant furnishings that these people could not be termed nobs though. Digging his hands into the trouser pockets he felt a sense of elation such as he’d never felt in his life. From convict and inmate of the devil’s own prison to an almost employed worker—and all within a matter of a day. What would Spence have to say about this kettle of fish when next he saw him?

When Esther appeared at the doorway beckoning him, he straightened his spine before following her. The woman who reclined on a sofa took him by surprise. Fully expecting a dowdy older person, she was almost beautiful, and not a lot older than himself. Hair the colour of sand was drawn back from a narrow face. Sad eyes took in his entire length from his unruly hair to his battered boots, before she said, “Esther tells me that you are handy around the house and garden, is that so?”

Deciding to be on his best behaviour, he gave her a small bow before answering, “Yes Ma’am, I can put my hand to just about anything.” Spence would laugh heartily at that lie.

With a small nod, she asked, “So why are you seeking employment with us? Did your previous employer not want your services anymore, and if that were the case, just why was that so if you are so handy?” This was said with a touch of what he thought was derision.

Glancing at Esther in confusion, he realised that he had not taken the time to concoct a story that might please this woman. She came to his rescue by saying, “Finn’s previous employer recently went back to England.”

The woman nodded as she continued to stare at him. As if coming to a decision she said, “I will not tolerate alcohol consumption of any kind while you are in our employ, is that understood? My husband will decide on a wage—if any is earned, and if you prove worthless then you will leave without causing us any fuss or bother.”

Finn nodded, while thinking how odd this person seemed to be—but then again what did he know about the upper class except they could be bullies and tyrants. “Thank you, Ma’am, I vow to do my very best.” Inside he wondered how good his best would be. And then wondered if his rescuer Esther was by now likely regretting her rash decision to fetch him here. Following on from that was the question once again of why she had been so keen to bring him here.

With a flap of the hand his new employer said, “Take him to the stable Esther, where he can sleep. He can come to the kitchen at meal times where Nelly will give him food. The only time you are to come into the house…Finn…is if we need you for heavy work that the women cannot undertake, such as bringing logs for the fire.” As if suddenly coming to a thought, she added, “And do not pay attention to our silly maid Cora who is likely to desire your interest.” She rubbed at her head then as if it was paining her, and flapped her hand again in dismissal.

Esther nodded to Finn and he followed her out, feeling the need to rub at his own head in total confusion. The child tagged behind them as he followed Esther around the house to what Finn presumed was the stable. “Mama doesn’t like you much,” the girl informed him, adding, “But I think you are probably nice—you have a funny name though.”

“Ah, that’s because it’s Irish, and I am glad you like me,” Finn said, feeling so odd he wondered how many other peculiar folks he would find dwelling in this house. Esther seemed to be the most sensible, but following on from that thought came the one that perhaps she wasn’t or why else would she have picked up a likely convict and decided to assist him in this way.

The girl skipped ahead to where the horse still stood harnessed to the cart in front of the shed which consisted of an open section where there was space for two vehicles. “Once you get settled, could you please take care of removing my horse’s harness, Finn.” Stroking the bay’s head she said, “Danny Boy here is of Irish descent much like yourself. Everything goes in there.” She pointed to the open part where, apart from a few bales of hay, there was a jumble of odd pieces of equipment including a chopper and a handsaw. “Come, I will show you where you can make yourself comfortable. I did not think it through when I invited you along, but the cook Nelly and the maid Cora sleep yonder there in the small room alongside the laundry.” Her gesture took in a small addition tagged onto the back of the cottage. “It is a small residence without room for staff.”

“Esther sleeps in my room,” the child informed him before coughing a few times and then skipping off back towards the house—obviously tired of this new addition to the household.

“She doesn’t seem to be so sickly,” Finn said, thinking that she appeared to be quite lively—as compared to some of the very poorly kids he had lived amongst in his early days before his capture.

“Her cough mostly bothers her at night, upsetting her Mama,” Esther said before opening the door to one side of the shed. Finn followed her inside to where it smelt strongly of horse and hay. Surprisingly, the space was larger than he expected. A roped off section was no doubt where two horses could be settled at night, and he wondered briefly where he could sleep. Esther answered that when she pointed to what was no more than a rough shelf, saying, “There is a cot of sorts where you can make yourself comfortable. At least it is closed off from the weather. I am afraid you will have to share it with Danny and the master’s horse and their hay and grain. Perhaps you can stuff some straw into a grain sack to make a mattress of sorts. I will see what I can fetch you for bed coverings and perhaps find you some other items of clothing.”

As if thinking this over, she turned saying, “I will leave you to take care of Danny. Once unharnessed he goes into the small yard until nightfall—there behind the shed. The master’s horse goes straight into his stall when he gets home, which is usually at a late hour.” After a quick jab in that direction, she began to walk off.

 “Can I ask you one question before you go,” Finn called after her. When she stopped and faced him, he asked, “Just why are you doing this for a man who for all intents could be a rogue and a thief?”

Sending him a smile, she surprised him once again by saying, “My father taught me not to judge a person by their past, Finn. Use your intuition he advised, for there are many types of men here in the colonies, and you will learn that not always those who are incarcerated for so-called criminal offences are the untrustworthy ones.” While he stared at such wise words from one so young, she added, “Do not prove my judgement wrong, will you?” With a small nod she walked away.

 

Chapter Two

 

Esther sat on the side of her bed brushing her hair, while she contemplated her perhaps stupid actions of the day. What had she been thinking? Inside, something told her that bringing Finn O’Connor here might turn out to be the most impulsive action of her life. “Oh Papa, please tell me I did the right and Christian thing,” she whispered. After plaiting her thick and sometimes tiresome hair that now reached almost to her waist, she pulled the coverlet over her and let out a sigh.

Becky stirred and mumbled in her sleep before turning over. The night promised to be hot, and Esther felt a restlessness such as never before, but felt sure it had nothing to do with the heat. Something about the stranger she had felt compelled to assist had awakened certain unknown feelings within her. How she wished Mama was here—she would offer wise advice. How stupid, for if Mama were still alive, she would not be living in this house, caring for a child and the girl’s feckless mother. Letting out a small sob of self-pity, she turned onto her side and stared into the darkness as she not for the first time tried to block out the horror of the day when both beloved parents left this world.

A small tap on her shoulder brought Esther out of a light sleep. Becky stood so close to her she could feel her breath on her face. “I have to wee,” she said grumpily.

Esther sighed. “Use the chamber pot. You are not a baby any more, Becky, and are capable of managing on your own.”

“Can’t see it, it’s too dark.” Her complaint was followed by a cough and a few sniffles. As always, she made a drama out of the smallest task.

“It is not dark at all for the moon is bright tonight and there is plenty of light coming through the window.”

“I’m scared of that Finn man, he might come into our room and hurt us.”

“Oh Becky, do not be silly—he is a kind man and will not harm us, and I distinctly remember that you said you liked him.” As she said that, Esther wondered just why she felt so sure that he was kind and would not hurt them. Free man he might be, but until only recently he had been locked away amid thugs and ne’er do wells, and for all she knew he had been sent there for committing some horrendous crime.

With a small harrumph Becky took care of her problem and climbed back into her small cot. Esther got up and went over to the window. The moon was so bright that she could clearly see the man who had kept her from her slumber standing over by the fence around the small paddock, and he was stroking Danny Boy’s head. They had decided to let the horse stay outside as it was such a warm night.

Later, she would ask herself just why she felt the need to slip into her shoes and with great stealth leave the room. The small wind that blew in from the sea was cool upon her face as she went across to stand at the man’s side. She was not small by any means but she came just about to his shoulder. Danny Boy snickered and put his muzzle close to her face, breathing softly onto her cheek. A few moments passed before the man called Finn said softly, “Could not sleep either eh, Miss?”

“’Tis fair hot. I often have trouble sleeping since my parents died. What about you? Was the cot allocated to you so uncomfortable?”

As he looked down on her for the first time, she recalled that she had left the house in her nightgown, and her cheeks burned as she wondered what had prompted her to come outside almost unclothed. Fighting an urge to run, she crossed her arms across her breasts, realising that they suddenly felt unusually heavy.

“I’ve slept in worse beds, believe me Esther. There is little wrong with this one.” He jerked his head in the direction of the stable.

“Did you not have a comfortable bed to sleep on in the days before your arrest? What about your childhood?”

With a small laugh he shook his head. “My childhood was to say the least a sketchy one. Mind you, I only recall a small amount of the tales related to me and have no idea if they were made up or not.”

Intrigued now, she forgot her embarrassment and asked, “You did not spend your childhood with your Ma and Pa?”

His small laugh announced how ridiculous that thought was. “I have no idea who fathered me, but I was told that my Ma died not long after my birth and along came a gypsy who took me as her own.”

Esther let out a small gasp. “And this gypsy woman then brought you up?”

“Far from it. I think I was going on two when some fancy English woman who was passing through Kilmallock with her nob of a husband decided it was no fit life for a child, and she more or less stole me away and that is how I ended up in London.”

“Goodness me, I cannot believe that she could simply whisk you away like that. Were there no laws for such abduction?”

“Oh, there were laws for the rich and noble but not for us common Irish folk.” With a shrug he patted Danny Boy’s head. “Thinking back on it, I suppose they thought they were offering me a better life.”

“And they were not?” To Esther his was a sorry tale, which left her thinking that he was probably destined for a life of crime from an early age. “And so, you resided in their house in London?”

His laugh came out as more of a soft grunt than one of humour. “And what a right disaster that was. Their two stuck up daughters hated the fact that I was allowed to sit in on their lessons, and their merry tantrums meant I barely learned more than how to add one and two together.”

“Poor man. But you must have at least learnt to read and write?” Feeling quite bewildered at such treatment that was so far removed from her own childhood, her heart ached for the boy that he was.

“Not at all. I was in about my tenth year when I could stand it no more and fled in the dark of night, taking little but the clothes I wore and a couple of their books.”

“But where did you go. I cannot for one moment imagine how a ten-year-old would manage to survive alone in a city.”

“I wasn’t alone for long, Miss, for there were many boys who lived a life on the streets of London, so in no time I had what I considered my family. There were about six of us, and we survived mostly on our wits—and thieving of course. The biggest who we thought of as our leader, well he taught me how to read and write.”

It was taking Esther some time to digest all this. About to say something more, the jingle of harness warned of an approaching vehicle. Startled she cried, “I must get back to my bed. The master of the house is coming. He may need assistance with his horse. Tell him only what you told the mistress. Oh, and go to the kitchen at dawn for your breakfast.” Leaving him standing there she fled as fast as she could, thankful she could get inside the house through the kitchen entrance.

Her employer often returned late at night, and usually took care of unharnessing his gelding. Esther stood by her window watching as the two men faced each other, obviously discussing who Finn was and what he was doing here, then the master strode to the house, and Esther climbed into bed knowing what was coming.

The mistress’s shrill cry of, “Why are you so late again?” did not surprise Esther, for he was always greeted in this way. The soft thud of their bedroom door told her he had gone into their room, and then in a loud voice he demanded why she had seen fit to take on some character who could likely be a criminal. For some time, all Esther could hear was his loud rumble and his wife’s soft cries and pleas.

How Esther dreaded ending up in such a relationship—and hoped sincerely she could find a man to offer her a love such as her parents shared. Her Papa was such a patient soul and treated his wife as an equal, for she was just as clever as he. Both of them instilled a compassion in Esther for those less fortunate.

Finn’s story took up all her thoughts for some time and when Becky shook her shoulder imploring her to wake up, it was with heavy eyes she looked up at the girl who stood coughing into her palm. “I am sorry, Becky I was dreaming. Go fetch your medicine.” As she put her feet to the floor, a soft knock announced that Cora had brought their water for washing.

“Morning Miss,” the maid chirped as she placed the ewer on the small dressing table. “Master’s gone off already.” Leaning closer to Esther she said in a near whisper, “Right barney they were having when I took their breakfast in earlier. Did you hear it?” Cora liked nothing better than a gossip.

“No, I did not hear it, and you should be more aware that what they do or say is not your business.”

Her reprimand was shrugged off by the maid who went on, “He don’t seem too happy about the new help—even though I see that Finn had his horse all harnessed and ready to go as soon as the sun came up.” When she got no response from Esther, she made a face and left.

If Mr. Franklin had already gone about his business, then Esther wondered if he at least had given Nelly instructions on the tasks she could set Finn. Shrugging, she prepared Becky and herself for the day.

Finn was sitting at the table when they went into the kitchen, and Becky went and sat beside him on the bench, staring up at him in curiosity as she asked, “Are you going to stay here or did my Papa tell you to go?”

Esther gave Finn a questioning look before taking the chair opposite him at the table. “Did he?” she queried.

Rubbing his chin, Finn chuckled. “To be honest the man said little, apart from asking where I came from and what I was capable of doing. I set his mind at rest by telling him I was no criminal set on robbing him.” With another small chuckle he cleared his bowl of porridge.

Nelly handed Cora a breakfast dish which she then placed on the table in front of Esther before going around and sitting beside Finn, so close that when he tried to move away from her, he was penned in on his other side by Becky who was now spooning up her porridge. Cora placed a hand on his forearm, exclaiming, “You are very strong, I’ll bet you can lift anything, would you like to lift me?”

Abruptly Finn rose, shaking free and climbing over the bench as he said, “Best go in now, for Nelly here told me the mistress said I was to see her about what tasks she wanted me to be doing this morning.”

Cora watched him with a dreamy look in her eyes until he left the room and then said, “Isn’t he handsome?”

“Now now, Cora, keep your foolish thoughts to yourself,” Nelly chided as she began to pour water from the huge kettle into the sink. “He’s here to work, same as you are, so get on with your chores and stop with your dopey chatter or else I will report you to the mistress. The big carpet in the parlour needs a good brush and then you can make a start on the laundry.”

Cora made a face behind Nelly’s back before scurrying off. Nelly turned to Esther and asked, “Where did you find that one?” This was asked with a jerk of the head.

“I met him along the road, Nelly, and as he was looking for work and I knew you needed more help around the place I suggested he try here.” Of course, that was not strictly true, but still Esther could not find a logical excuse for just why she had befriended Finn. After hearing his tale, she felt glad that she had taken a chance on him, for his start in life had been anything but easy if his story was to be believed. “You sorely needed someone to fetch water from the well and take care of the harder tasks needing a man’s strength.” Rising, she said, “Come Becky, we must start your lessons. It is a lot cooler today so perhaps we will sit outside. Fetch your chalk and board and we will continue with sums.”

When they were settled beneath the branches of the only tree close to the house, Finn strode towards them and sat beside Esther on the bench. “Your mistress is a rare one for sure, isn’t she?” This was said with a nod towards the house.

“I think she is a very miserable person,” Esther said softly. Becky was engrossed in her adding and subtracting tasks that Esther had set her and paid no attention to them. “I should not discuss my employers, but sadly they do not have a contented relationship. Did she give you an idea of what your tasks will be?”

Rubbing at his brow, he said, “Fact is, she was more interested in how I came to meet you and why I was in this part of the country, wanting to know more about me. I’m ashamed to say I lied, telling her that I came over from Ireland only recently.” He leant closer and whispered, “Is she slightly mad? Her hands were a-fidgeting all the time, and she seemed to have a need to touch me.”

Esther had no idea how to answer that. It had occurred to her early on in her time here that Mrs. Franklin was what her mother would have called unbalanced after the stresses of childbirth. “So, you still do not know what your tasks are?”

“She said to see Nelly, so that is what I shall do.” Pressing his hands on his knees he rose. “I’m not sure about the master of the house either. They are an odd pair of sods to be sure. But at least he gave me some idea of what I should start on. I think he was happy with me preparing his horse for the day. I gave the fellow a good brushing.” 

Esther watched him stride off. Cora was right, he was a very strong and handsome fellow. Hair as light as his was rare for a man, but it suited him. With a slight shake of the head, she realised that she was spending far too much time contemplating what it would be like to be held in those strong arms of his. This would never do—she was becoming as foolish as Cora. “Have you finished yet, Becky?” She took the offered chalk board and was pleased to see that the child was doing well at her sums. “Now, we shall do some reading.” Esther took a book of simple rhymes from her basket and patted the bench beside her.

A short time later she saw Finn toting water from the well, obviously on the way to fill the laundry tub for Cora. The girl would no doubt use that opportunity to bother him with her silly nonsense. The sudden burst of jealousy Esther felt made her give herself a shake at the foolishness of that thought.

A Troubled Heart can be purchased here: https://books2read.com/A-Troubled-Heart