CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
A Betrayal
‘What did I tell you, Michael?’ George began by saying, ‘I told you I saw Miss Norwood loitering about.’ He turned to Frances and smiled. ‘Michael doubted me, but as usual, I was right.’
‘And modest, as always,’ Frances responded, depositing the retrieved coins into her purse.
George made no immediate answer to this, but the broadening smile on his lips seemed to answer for him. ‘So, what have you been doing with your time, other than making a spectacle of yourself at the cricket? You can always throw some money my way, if you’re that desperate to get rid of it. I am, after all, a struggling journalist.’
‘And I am a struggling governess.’
‘Ah yes,’ George said, dividing his attention between her and the cricket, ‘you look as though you’re suffering awfully. Edwina Ballard is obviously working you to the bone.’
‘As is your newspaper,’ Frances eventually retaliated. ‘Tell me, George, do you intend writing an article about today’s play, or are you here purely for your own amusement?’
The smile on George’s mouth began to retract. ‘Come now, Miss Norwood (not ‘Frances’ as he habitually addressed her), I thought you knew me better than that. Amusement is my middle name. My whole life is motivated by it. Speaking of amusement,’ George resumed in a confidential tone, ‘I was highly entertained by your hasty escape, just now. Michael and I literally had to chase after you and the Ballard boy.’
Frances cast the silent Michael a sidelong glance. ‘I wasn’t avoiding you. I was more concerned that certain female company was with you.’
‘Louisa isn’t here, Miss Norwood,’ Michael eventually replied. His first words of the conversation were spoken quietly, but gently.
‘Nor is Agnes,’ George added. ‘Jack and the ladies are spending the afternoon at the International Exhibition,’ he added derisively. ‘They thought it would be more entertaining than the cricket. I suppose it depends on your definition of entertainment.’
‘You haven’t been then?’ Frances asked.
‘That white elephant? Humph! I don’t think so. I’m highly suspicious of anything that is sponsored by the Tasmanian Government. They’re inevitably wearisome affairs. For instance, what was in the exhibition program the other day? Cookery lectures, needlework displays, musical arrangements, agricultural and engineering exhibits, and something about gooseberries.’ He fell into thought. ‘Oh that’s right, an exhibit of twelve varieties of gooseberries. Not two varieties, mind you. That would have been sensible, but twelve. Have you ever heard of anything more ridiculous?’
‘George,’ Michael broke in with a touch of impatience, ‘must you go on about it?’
George thrust both hands into his pockets. ‘No, I suppose not. Still I’m glad I got it off my chest. I feel better already. Much calmer.’
Despite this declaration, Frances decided he looked anything but calm. In the awkward silence that followed, George nibbled his lip, and began the annoying habit of rocking back on the balls of his feet. He appeared to have difficulty meeting Frances’s eyes. It was not an easy meeting for Frances either, but at least she wasn’t boring people with desultory conversation and prosaic observations.
‘I say, Miss Norwood,’ George started up again, ‘are you going to the regatta on Wednesday? I tried to get a ride on a friend’s boat for the whaling boat race, but missed out by the skin of my teeth. Ebenezer Watts, the mean old dog, pipped me at the post.’
‘Oh,’ Frances murmured, ‘I’m sorry to hear it.’
Frances then stepped back to allow several young women to pass. They were dressed fashionably in the latest garish colours from Melbourne, and as they walked by, the breeze ruffled their enormous sleeves. In the background, Charlie Eady had sent another ball over the chains, and the parochial crowd had just rewarded his fine stroke with a hearty round of applause.
George Brearly, however, seemed oblivious to the commotion around him, and was wondering what to say. ‘Did you hear about the bushfires at Port Arthur?’ he asked at last. ‘I read it in the paper this morning. Can’t say I’m surprised. The weather yesterday was blinking horrible. Hot as Hades and blowing a fierce gale. It’s just a pity it didn’t happen a month earlier. Then we would have been spared that awful trip there.’ Having said this, he set his feet back firmly on the ground, and drawing out a handkerchief from his pocket, began dabbing his forehead.
Frances, in the intervening time, was scanning the crowds around her for Crispin. He still had not returned from the lemonade stand, and his absence was prolonging this uncomfortable encounter with the Brearly brothers.
‘Crispin not back yet?’ Michael asked, reading her thoughts.
‘No,’ Frances smilingly answered. ‘I gave him some money for lemonade, and I haven’t seen him since. Knowing him, he’s probably taken my money, and run away with it.’
‘And how is the Ballard boy?’ Michael resumed conversationally. ‘I trust he has been behaving himself?’
Frances reflected. ‘Come, come, Doctor Brearly, this is Crispin Ballard we’re talking about. The only time he’s behaving himself, is when he’s asleep. I may have only been with him for a month, but he has already given me grey hairs.’
Before Michael could answer this, Crispin himself made an appearance. To the concern of the three adults, he was breathless, smiling, and instead of carrying two glasses of lemonade in his hands, he was strangely in possession of a cricket ball. This concern was heightened when they discovered that there had been a suspension in play. There was a murmur around the ground.
‘Crispin!’ Frances exclaimed, turning upon him sharply, ‘where did you get that ball from?’
Crispin tossed the ball up in to the air and looked up at the adults with an audacious smile. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
‘Yes I would, as it happens. And what have you done with my money? Where is the lemonade?’
‘I drank it.’
‘Why you little devil,’ Frances said, in a tone of anger. ‘You wait until I tell your grandmother about what you’ve done!’ She stepped menacingly towards him, but fortunately for Crispin, Michael’s restraining hand on her arm stopped her from proceeding.
Michael glowered at Crispin. ‘Miss Norwood is too much of a lady to strike you, but if I were in her shoes, I’d give you a good clip around the ear.’
‘Not to mention a boot up the backside,’ George added.
‘Now do as you’re told,’ Michael ordered, ‘and hand that ball back.’
‘Give it back?’ Crispin repeated, amazed. ‘And why would I want to do that? This ball’s a collector’s item! It could be worth a fortune in years to come. It could become the next Ballard family heirloom.’
‘It’s theft, Crispin!’ Frances fired back.
‘Only if you get caught it is,’ Crispin laughed, and then darted off through the crowd, to a timely freedom.
‘Gosh, he’s just like I was at that age!’ George mused. ‘What are you going to do about him? Do you want me to follow him?’
Frances looked out towards the pitch. Another ball had been procured in the meantime, and the game was about to recommence. ‘Just leave him,’ she sighed miserably. ‘With any luck I may get some peace and quiet. I might even get to watch some of the match.’ A surge of emotion began rising up in her. She took a deep breath and returned her attention to the pitch. She stared fixedly at the batsmen.
Michael noticed her discomfit, and turned towards his brother. ‘Get Miss Norwood some lemonade, George,’ he whispered. ‘And don’t drink it before you return.’ He threw George a rare, affectionate smile.
George nodded and dutifully did as he was bid. In the next moment, Frances and Michael were left to themselves. After a minute or two of companionable silence, Frances spoke.
‘I was so sorry to hear about Thomas,’ she began hesitantly. ‘I only heard about it yesterday, otherwise, I would have come to visit. I would have offered my condolences.’
Micha
el’s anxious eyes began to roam the outfield. ‘I won’t pretend that the last few weeks haven’t been difficult. It was an ordeal for everyone, particularly for Jack. He’s an orphan now, not that he understands what that means. He thinks Thomas has gone back up to Launceston, and keeps asking us when his Daddy is coming home. No amount of explaining helps. My only hope is that he works it out for himself one day, hopefully sooner rather than later. Thomas’s will stipulates that in the event of his death, Jack is to live with Agnes. Thomas has no family of his own, incidentally. Still, that’s beside the point.’ He tried to fortify himself. ‘When I look back on the whole sorry saga, there was only one thing that I was grateful for.’
‘And what was that?’
‘That you were spared the horror of it all.’ He turned towards her and their eyes met. Their gaze lingered for some seconds before he reluctantly averted his eyes. ‘Speaking of your departure from Wintersleigh,’ he resumed in a faltering voice, ‘I finally found out why you left so suddenly. Agnes told me the other evening.’
Frances was momentarily silenced. Around her, the summer breeze lapped at her skirt, and tussled the fallen strands of hair around her cheeks. In spite of this cool, comforting sweep of air, she felt less than comforted. ‘And what exactly did she tell you?’ she forced herself to say.
‘I don’t want to go into the exact details,’ Michael said hurriedly. ‘I have no intention of embarrassing you. What I will say is this. After what occurred between you and my brother on New Year’s Eve, I admire you wholeheartedly for leaving Wintersleigh when you did, as does Louisa. She believes it was very right of you to nip it in the bud.’
Frances was taken aback. ‘Aunt Louisa knows about this too?’
‘Yes, she was there when Agnes told me.’
‘And why did Agnes feel it necessary to divulge such delicate information? She promised me she would say nothing, provided I left Wintersleigh.’ She faltered. ‘Was it her intention to make mischief for me?’
Michael considered her question thoughtfully. ‘Looking back on it, yes, I think there was some element of malice in it, but instead of her information upsetting your aunt, it had the reverse effect. Louisa’s feelings towards you were softened, not hardened. As you may have known, your aunt has long been concerned with the amount of attention George has shown you. She feared that he would seduce you, destroy your reputation, then abandon you without a second thought, as he has done to so many other women. I feared it too.’
‘Yes. You told me as much on our return trip from Port Arthur.’
‘But now, our fears are allayed. Louisa thinks you acted nobly by leaving when you did, and having said that, I expect she will seek reconciliation with you any day now. She might even ask you to return to Wintersleigh.’
‘I hope she doesn’t, otherwise I’ll have to refuse her offer.’
Michael looked confused. ‘What impediment to your return would there be? George will be returning to Melbourne straight after the wedding, and Agnes will be living with me as my wife.’
Frances turned away from the doctor. She secretly longed to tell him that he was the reason she had left Wintersleigh, and that she had acted in his best interests. Of course she didn’t have the courage to tell him these things, and so she said nothing instead.
Frances looked in the direction of the stand. In the distance she could see that Crispin had returned to his grandmother, and was triumphantly showing Edwina Ballard and her friends the cricket ball he had taken from the game. Frances turned away before her employer could beckon to her, and fixing her eyes vacantly on a nearby fieldsman, she began to reflect on her cousin’s cruel betrayal. Agnes had promised not to tell a soul about Frances’s interlude with George Brearly on New Year’s Eve, and yet, not even four weeks later, she had broken that assurance. The depth of the deception struck Frances more painfully than a blow, and as her mounting hatred for Agnes pulsed through her veins, she vowed at that moment, never to trust her cousin again.