Bendigo
The days following the Cooper women’s visit to Mrs Downing’s shop were a blur of events, the effects of which were slowly dawning on Evie. On Wednesday when she was at the post office to mail the shop’s invoices, the usually friendly postal clerk was a bit leery, and didn’t bother with niceties. Everyone has bad days. Today, Thursday, the butcher had nodded at her, a sour twist on his mouth as he deferred to his wife before handing over Mrs Downing’s order of mutton. Odd. Then later at the bakery, Evie was barely spoken to at all, the staff not their usual sunny selves, no happy banter as she made her purchases. Goodness, whatever’s the matter with everybody?
It all fell into place at the next stop. Waiting her turn at the counter in the drapery, an armful of the choicest fabric rolls getting heavier by the minute, she was overlooked for service time and again. Finally thumping down the rolls on the counter, she’d started to measure out what she needed, helping herself to the large cutting shears resting nearby.
‘I’ll do that, Miss Emerson,’ the proprietor had announced, her nose slightly a-twitch and in the air.
Evie’s ire was up. ‘Mrs Hartwell, I wonder why you feel you must ignore such a good customer as Mrs Downing.’
‘I’m not ignoring Mrs Downing,’ she’d snipped. ‘Two yards of each as usual?’ Mrs Hartwell had pulled off a length of teal-blue satin. She wasn’t looking at Evie, her gaze averted.
‘Thank you.’ In the ensuing silence, Evie had gazed at other shoppers, none of whom greeted her. She’d leaned across the counter. ‘Whatever is the matter, Mrs Hartwell?’
The woman had continued to peel off exact measures then sliced the piece from the roll with a practised flourish of the scissors. ‘Something else?’
‘Mrs Downing’s straw hats, her wire frames, and the packs of assorted ribbons she ordered too, please.’ Stacking things into her laden basket and signing for the purchases, Evie had turned, breathless with exasperation. Startled by those who made no effort to hide their staring at her, she made her way to the front door. Pulling it open, desperate to get out of the place, she’d almost collected the two women sweeping inside. Mrs Cooper and her daughter Jane had sailed in past her.
‘Baggage,’ Mrs Cooper had said in an aside, without even looking at her.
‘Tart,’ Jane had whispered close as she passed, knowing no one else could hear.
Evie’s mouth had dropped open. Propelled by necessity out the door, and with a two-handed grip on the basket she was suddenly struggling to handle, she’d stopped on the footpath. But going back inside to speak her mind would be a folly. Anger simmering, she’d marched back to Mrs Downing’s and related all the incidents of the last couple of days.
‘Well, it didn’t take long for the gossipers to get it around,’ Mrs Downing said as she unpacked the last of the ribbons from Evie’s basket. ‘I’d say Mr Kingsley is quite correct, my dear. The Coopers have begun an assault, shall we say.’ She tut-tutted. ‘You need to make an appointment with your solicitor to see what action you need to take.’
Evie sat at her station. ‘I am at a loss to think why they would be so public about their opinions. After all, it’s a private matter.’ She’d clasped her hands so tightly her knuckles were white. ‘And it’s not as if Edwin lost any money.’
‘Then I’d say there must be more to it than meets the eye.’ Mrs Downing stood to pack away the stock.
A knock sounded, and a young blonde woman peeked around the open door. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Downing. I’ve just come to see if Evie is all right.’
‘Come in, Posie,’ Evie said and rose to greet her. ‘So you’ve seen the paper?’
‘I have.’ Posie Chalmers swished inside and closed the door behind her. ‘And it’s spreading fast all over town and growing by the minute, depending on who you talk to.’ Her wide brown eyes creased under a concerned frown. Perched on her head was a jaunty little violet-coloured boater, trimmed with woven moss-green silk and adorned by a sprig of golden wattle. It was one of Evie’s creations, pinned tight on Posie’s dark blonde hair, which was swept into a bun on her neck. ‘It’s embarrassing for you.’
‘Bit of a nonsense, really,’ Evie said. ‘I’m more angry than embarrassed. He’s being such a fool.’
Posie smiled at Mrs Downing by way of an apology and spoke to Evie. ‘I had no idea you and Mr Cooper were quite so close. Ann had no idea either,’ she said, a gentle censuring. ‘And there’s been such gossip. We were worried why you hadn’t said anything. We only hoped that you might have been waiting to tell us.’
‘I didn’t know it was in the paper,’ Evie cried. ‘No one mentioned anything to me. Why didn’t they?’ she asked. At Posie’s rueful little shrug, she said, ‘Don’t you think I would have told you had there been anything to report?’ She sat again with a huff. ‘I didn’t feel close to Edwin, not at all,’ Evie said. ‘I mean, I made a mistake thinking after Fitz had gone—’ She stopped. Mrs Downing, and Posie and Ann all knew about Fitzmorgan O’Shea. ‘I made a mistake allowing Edwin, at the very least, to talk me into considering an engagement. I didn’t want to sound too rude or hasty declining his offer, so I took a couple of days then told him I wouldn’t accept. I had no idea he’d gone ahead and announced anything.’ Exasperated she waved her hands in front of her. ‘Truly, it was never meant to go public. He’s being quite awful.’
Posie sat beside her and took her hand. ‘I’m so sorry we introduced you to him. We had no idea he’d behave so badly.’ She shook her head. ‘He seemed utterly charming. When we learned that his sister had started seeing the magistrate’s stepson, and then Edwin’s mother introduced him to us at the tearooms, we thought … Just shows you can’t trust even a good introduction. What will you do?’
‘What can I do? I didn’t want to make a big thing of it. I thought it would all go away when it was clear that I—’
‘All go away? I thought you said you read yesterday’s paper?’ Posie was frowning.
An icy finger of dread feathered along Evie’s spine. ‘I know about the engagement notice on the weekend, not Wednesday’s paper. What else is there?’
‘I saw it, and Ann saw it too,’ Posie said. ‘He’s taken a classified saying that because you broke off the engagement, he will pursue you for breach of contract.’
Evie’s mouth dropped open. ‘No,’ she burst.
‘Most certainly,’ Posie affirmed. ‘A low act, I said to Ann. We were worried for you and still you didn’t come to find us—most unusual—so here I am.’
Evie pulled her hand out of Posie’s grip, turned this way and that. ‘Dear God. I’d better get to Mr Campbell and make an appointment as soon as possible.’
Mrs Downing patted her shoulder. ‘Before it gets even more out of hand. This could be very damaging for you, my dear.’ At Evie’s despairing glance, she said, ‘Mrs Chalmers, would you have time today to accompany Evie to Mr Campbell’s office?’
‘Of course I would. I drove myself to get here in a hurry, I couldn’t let your silence go on any longer. This is awful.’ She gave Evie a quick hug. ‘I’m sorry I waited so long, I’m only too happy to help. Come on, we can make a quick dash across town.’
Driving back to Mrs Downing’s after making an appointment at the solicitors, Posie said to Evie, ‘I can pick you up tomorrow and get you to Mr Campbell’s by eleven. You were lucky he had an appointment available.’
‘Very lucky,’ Evie said, irritated and wondering when all this rubbish would end. Making the appointment to see Mr Campbell had returned the fire in her belly, and no lingering misery was going to douse it. What a mess. Her sister’s silence was enough to worry about, without this as well.
Posie pulled up, Evie alighted and waved her goodbye.
Mrs Downing was in the front-room studio, a worried expression on her face.
‘What is it now?’ Evie asked, unpinning her hat, her trepidation high.
Mrs Downing held out her hands. ‘The manager at the Craig, Williamson store has sent a letter, delivered by hand, cancelling the exhibition.’
Evie’s heart sank. Oh, what a mess, indeed.
She left Mrs Downing’s at four o’clock, much earlier than her usual 6 pm. Evie remembered there were eggs and half a loaf of bread from the day before at home, so for today she could avoid the grocery store and the possibility of other people’s stares. Not that she felt like eating, anyway.
Poor Mrs Downing. The reason for the display cancellation had been short and to the point: the unsavoury character of your employee … She had the letter with her; Mr Campbell should see it. Somehow the slander, and now libel, was spreading faster than she ever imagined.
Walking with purpose, hoping to avoid any passers-by, she kept her eyes on the footpath, glancing up only to make sure she wouldn’t get run over as she crossed the road. Turning into her street, her heart plummeted. Edwin was walking away from her front door. He spotted her, and stopped at the gateway, barring her entrance, his chest out, chin forward.
Her throat tightened. Strange he was here so early in the day. ‘What do you want?’ she snapped.
‘A change of heart from you,’ he said, dispensing with niceties and any pretence that he didn’t know why she was so angry. He tugged at his coat lapels, a faint smirk on his plain features.
‘After what you’ve done?’ she cried, astounded.
‘And what have I done?’ An arch of his brows, and a twitch of that awful moustache. ‘I’ve only expressed my unhappiness that the woman to whom I am engaged has deeply hurt me.’
He knew perfectly well what he’d done, and what he was doing, here, in her street.
‘We are not, and never were, engaged,’ she seethed. ‘Get out of my way.’
‘I’m here hoping you’ll reverse your hasty, and nervously made, decision.’ He wasn’t budging and was cool as a cucumber.
‘As if I’m going to talk with you in the street, Edwin.’
Still he didn’t move away from her gate. ‘Then invite me inside where we can discuss this properly.’ He began to remove his gloves.
‘As if I’m going to talk with you anywhere,’ she cried. Shakes took hold of her. ‘Get out of my way,’ she repeated, one hand fisted by her side, the other clutching her purse. His menace draped her, slithering over her shoulders and down her back. She might yet have to leap the fence in an unladylike fashion to escape him.
‘Come along, Evie,’ he said, opening his arm to guide her ahead of him through the gate. He smiled and leaned in a little closer. ‘You’ve nothing to throw at me today.’
She didn’t want to be anywhere near him, so turning smartly she marched off, back the way she’d come. If she walked fast enough, even broke into a run—
‘Where are you going?’ He was alongside, taking her arm.
She snatched it out of his grip. ‘To the nearest police station,’ she said between her teeth, keeping up her pace.
A carriage drove by, coming from the opposite direction, but the driver hardly noticed them. She forged ahead, keeping her elbows pressed close to her side, her little purse gripped tightly in her hands.
‘I don’t think you want to do that.’ His stride was unhurried as he kept up with her.
‘You are making a pest of yourself, making unwanted advances when I have clearly told you to keep away.’
‘You’re raising your voice, my dear.’
‘Go away, Edwin. I can’t even bear to look at you. You are doing much to ruin me with this campaign of yours.’
Steely fingers gripped her elbow again. ‘And I can do so much more,’ he said, his breath a sibilant whisper at her ear.
Air stuck in her throat. His hand, tight and hard on her arm, would bruise, but she rushed on, despite the eye-watering pain he inflicted. Gasping, her head down, she was desperate to get rid of him. What is he doing? He wouldn’t pull her to the ground in the street, but he could drag her off somewhere. Where is safety? Silence roared in her head. Shying away from him, all she could think of was getting away. What did he think he was going to do? Broad daylight. Get away from him, get away … Her heartbeat hammered in her throat. Flee, but who could she—
‘Ahoy there, Evie,’ a sing-song voice called out behind her.
Horses’ hooves clip-clopped nearby. It cut through the fog in her brain, and the bursting need to run dissipated a little. She faltered, and the grip on her arm slackened. Glancing over her shoulder, she could have cried. Her other friend, Ann Benton, was driving up the road towards them.
‘Come along, now, Evie,’ Edwin said, the menace curling his lip. ‘Wave her away.’
‘Ann!’ Evie shrieked, gesturing madly. Thrusting away from him, she stumbled.
Edwin kept her from falling, his fingers vice-like again, her arm wrenched as he steadied her.
‘Ann!’ she cried.
Ann had braked and was running towards them. She slipped an arm around Evie and spun her out of Edwin’s grip. ‘Come along,’ she said to Evie. ‘Quickly.’
Her feet skimmed the pavement, keeping up with Ann. She was sobbing with relief when they got to the cart. Evie hauled herself up and kept her eyes on anything but Edwin Cooper. Ann dashed into the driver’s seat and picked up the reins in one hand. In the other, she held her riding quirt high as Edwin approached her side.
‘Mr Cooper, if that’s what I think I saw, you had better not lay one finger on my cart to try and stop it.’
‘Oh, Mrs Benton,’ Edwin said smiling, his eye on the quirt and making no attempt to touch anything. ‘Look at her, I was trying to help. The poor woman’s distraught—’
‘No doubt, you insidious creature.’ Ann slashed the quirt to the side of the cart closest to him then clicked the reins for pace. ‘Don’t look back, Evie,’ she ordered as they moved away from the curb. ‘Don’t let him see you look back.’
‘Dear God, he’s a madman,’ Evie breathed, her hand over her heart. She swallowed, then wiped her mouth with the back of her shaky hand.
‘We’ll drive to my place, and I’ll have Mr Benton fetch a constable.’
Part of Evie wanted to object, saying that she’d be fine, that there was no real harm done. But that was bravado talking, not bravery. ‘I’m grateful.’
They were sitting in Ann’s kitchen after they’d fetched Mr Benton, Ross, from his work, a greengrocer’s shop with a very understanding proprietor. He’d set off for the police station after dropping his wife and Evie at their house.
Ann had been on her way to Mrs Downing’s when she’d spied Evie marching away from her house. ‘I’d read that last dreadful notice he’d placed. After speaking with Posie about your visit to the solicitor, we decided I should come and find you and then I saw him attached to your arm. That seemed shifty to me.’
‘I can’t understand how quickly things have deteriorated. He’s frightening.’
‘And I would say from what I’ve witnessed,’ Ann said, filling their teacups, ‘that perhaps he always was that way. He must have had you under a thrall.’
‘A thrall?’ Perhaps she had been. Bewildering. He’d certainly been dismissive of her at times, which rankled, but had she been under a thrall?
‘Thank goodness you didn’t get so far as to marry him.’ Ann pushed the sugar bowl across the table. ‘When Ross returns, you and I will go to your house and pack you a bag to come here. You’re not to stay there on your own.’
‘That would be such an imposition on you,’ Evie said.
‘Not at all, dear girl. Then we’ll get you to Mrs Downing’s tomorrow and both Posie and I will accompany you to Mr Campbell’s. I’m so glad you’re out from under Edwin Cooper’s thumb.’
Evie hadn’t thought of it that way at all. Under Edwin’s thumb? Had she truly missed something about herself while she had been stepping out with him? Oh dear. Perhaps she had been … but that didn’t seem like her at all. No, no. Ann must be imagining things. Surely. Surely …
Ann stirred sugar busily into her cup. ‘To think there are such men in this day and age.’ Her usually bright and cheerful face was drawn. She put her hands to her neat and tidy dark hair, which was swept up into a twirl and pinned deftly. Never a shiny lock was out of place. Still, she patted and smoothed it as if perhaps some wayward strand had escaped. Calming her nerves, perhaps. ‘It’s disgraceful.’
Mr Benton poked his head in the back door, snatching off his hat, revealing close-cropped grey hair. ‘Constable said if you want to make a complaint, you’ll have to go down there.’
Ann puffed. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’
‘He took notes, but naught he could do about it, he said, because of Mr Cooper being a good sort, an’ all,’ Ross Benton finished apologetically.
Evie reddened.
‘Ross, if you don’t have to go back to work, would you accompany us to Evie’s house so we can get a small bag for her?’ Ann asked.
‘I do have to go back to work, me darlin’, but I can do that first, see you safe back here. Come on.’
Shocked, Evie stood inside the front door of her house. ‘This was why Edwin was here today.’
‘Oh no,’ Ann cried beside her in the doorway.
The hallway floor was strewn with her hats, and most had been trampled, a few beyond repair.
‘I know it was him,’ Evie seethed, but she was grateful for a small mercy—he hadn’t found her most prized creation, her favourite hat, which she’d packed away in her room. He couldn’t have resisted flaying her by destroying that.
Edwin had tried to get Evie to come inside—she’d have seen this damage, would have been incensed, so what had been his intention? Perhaps to do more damage in front of her, to really punish her. A wave of nausea hit her. Something evil, she knew it.
Ann clutched her hand and together they moved from room to room, Ross sticking behind them. In the parlour, Evie gave a cry. There on the floor, amid a pool of port wine soaking into the carpet, were the shards of the heavy crystal decanter scattered on the floor. A hammer was propped by the hearth nearby, the signature of a deliberate act. Nothing else had been destroyed in the room.
Oh, you mean, sick-spirited person, Edwin Cooper.
‘Definitely Edwin,’ Evie said, and closed her heart a moment to the decanter’s destruction. There were other things to consider first. ‘I’ll need to get the locks changed. He clearly has a key, somehow.’
‘Or he’s broken in.’ Ross Benton ducked down the hallway. ‘Doesn’t look like anything else has been damaged,’ he called. ‘Not that I can see.’ He came back to the parlour, his pale-blue eyes worried, hands twisting his hat. ‘What sorta bloke is this?’ He nodded at his wife. ‘Ann, pack Miss Evie that bag, quick. I’ll be going back to that constable and giving him a piece of my mind.’
‘Mr Benton, take me with you and I can make my statement. You’ve already missed work for me,’ Evie said.
‘I can make it up to the boss, I’m good for it. I’ll take his early-morning shift tomorrow. Now listen, you two ladies, hurry up. I want you out of here.’