Bendigo
Friday 16 September
David Kingsley checked his reflection in the mirror on his dresser. An errant curl needed a dab of macassar oil at the point of his neat white beard. The hair on his head still had remnants of its original colour; not bad for a man on the other side of sixty.
Imminently presentable today, young David. The best dressed debt collector around. The moment his feet had hit the floor, his step had a youthful spring. The smile welled from deep inside, invigorating his mood. He’d gone to sleep thinking of Lucille Downing, and he’d woken up thinking of her.
Today is the day, dear departed Sarah. I know you approve.
He would ask Lucille to be his wife. If she accepted, it would make him the happiest man alive, for the second time in his life. He’d been happy with Sarah. She’d been taken too soon by a stroke that had instantly killed her. It had been a long five years since.
He smiled at his reflection; he was hopeful Lucille would accept. They’d been friends for years, the kind of friendship that was happy in quiet company, companionable and with a sense of promise. It allowed for open and calm conversations: Lucille with regard to her children, the struggle she’d had bringing them up by herself after her husband had died and the obvious pride in her work as a milliner that had afforded them a rudimentary education; work she continued to this day. He, with his bereavement, and sorrow at not having had children, his work earlier as a law clerk and lately as a debt collector working freelance for the bank and other trusted clients. He regaled her with stories of the undesirables with whom he often met.
His first few years after Sarah died were a fog. Just when the hollow space in his heart yawned its widest, there was Lucille at the greengrocer’s. She’d been offering the grocer’s wife a recipe. For just what, he couldn’t recall. The only thing he remembered to this day was that he fell instantly in love. To think, at my age. He believed she felt the same way about him now.
Today is the day, but steady as she goes, David.
Should he get flowers? He was not so presumptuous as to purchase a ring to present her. No, no, he would rather she chose something. If she said yes. They would peruse jewellery together. A grand idea. She might not want a ring with a precious stone—she might only wish for a plain band like the one she already wore, now on her right hand as a widow. No matter. As with other discussions, they would come to an agreement. If she said yes. Then he would wine and dine her with great romance.
He left his bedroom and headed down the hallway for his coat and hat hanging on a hook. At a thought, he pushed open the door to the old parlour that hadn’t been used to entertain since Sarah had died. Maybe it could be a very stylish showroom for Lucille’s hats.
He closed the door, shaking his head. Ahead of yourself, David.
Outside and locking up, he turned to find Mr Perkins at his gate, the man who owned, among other things, the house Lucille rented.
‘Good morning, Mr Kingsley. Timely, so glad I’ve caught you.’ The man raised his hat a little and waved an envelope nervously. ‘I have a job here if you will. Rather urgent.’
‘Urgent, Mr Perkins? Well, we should go back indoors and—’
‘Oh, not necessary. It’s a quick job,’ he said. The man was in a hurry. ‘An eviction. Send me your usual fee for serving notice. I’ll remit directly of course.’ He held out the envelope, which still shook in his hand.
‘I’ll just take a moment to read it, then.’ David wasn’t obliged, like some, to take any job, and he wasn’t about to undertake work that would compromise him. He took the envelope and flicked open the waxed seal.
Mr Perkins peered over the page. ‘All in order, straightforward. So, you’ll attend immediately?’ he asked. He was a slim, small individual, clean-shaven, beady-eyed. He kept looking over his shoulder.
David followed his gaze and saw Mrs Perkins sitting in the buggy, her face set, a fixed bust of plaster of Paris immobile under her deep bonnet. He tipped his hat, then reviewed the note in his hands. The thud hit his chest with a reckoning force. Good God, today of all days. Heat itched at his collar, prickled his hands, but he folded the paper calmly and slipped it back in the envelope.
Mr Perkins assumed success and turned to nod heartily at his wife.
David pocketed the envelope. ‘Not for me, Mr Perkins. You must find another agent to serve this notice. Good day to you.’ He turned on his heels.
Mr Perkins sputtered after him. ‘But—I’ll have the letter back—’
David kept walking. Nothing would spoil the day he had planned, but this had certainly put a fly in the ointment. He suspected the real reason behind this sudden action of Perkins’s and from where it might have originated. But dear God, he didn’t want his proposal to sound as if he were a white knight in armour—Lucille would hate that—but neither should Mr Perkins’s bloody job interfere with his and Lucille’s future happiness. Be damned to that.
Lucille Downing tidied away loose swathes of fabric, hugging a roll of delicious cobalt blue taffeta to her chest until she found a place for it. The straw hats Evie had brought in the other day were stacked on a bench waiting for adornment, and she’d have to begin work on one of them for Mrs Carter, a lovely light-hearted and breezy client.
Peering out the window, she saw Mr Kingsley, her dear friend David, coming up the path. Her heart lifted. He was so good to look at, striding along with purpose, and such confidence. A handsome man. More importantly a kind man, with a sparkle in his eye and a crisp and dry sense of humour. What luck had been by her side when she’d met him some years ago at the greengrocer’s buying his vegetables after having become a widower and deciding he could look after himself.
‘Oh, what a delightful surprise,’ she said swinging the door open before he could knock. ‘The sun is shining, the birds are singing and my wonderful friend has come to visit me. Come in, come in.’ Long past worrying about what others thought of who visited her by day, she stepped aside to let him pass.
He was a kind man, and one who understood her sadness on each anniversary of Milton’s death. He allowed her grief. She did the same for him on his wife Sarah’s anniversary. Some days there was a warm hug between them, and a kiss of friendship, and Lucille always wondered why he hesitated to ask for anything beyond that. Sometimes it was enough for her, sometimes she longed for more. Well, she just might ask it of him, and today might be that day. The sun is shining, the birds are singing … The sudden glow inside her made her smile.
His hat was already in his hand, and he was dressed impeccably as usual, but his lovely face was creased in a frown. ‘Lucille,’ he said, on familiar terms when no one else was around. ‘I have some rather disturbing information.’ He took a seat at Evie’s workstation, reached across and took her hand. ‘Come sit a moment.’
‘What is it? Are you all right?’ The thought of David being ill was too much. Her neck flushed. (Not the blasted surges of heat, either; this was different.) He was such a lovely man, a good friend. Well, much more than a friend, she conceded. Pulling a chair closer to him she reached over and squeezed his hand. ‘Tell me.’
‘I had a job come in earlier,’ he said. He was clearly struggling with it. His brow was furrowed, his large brown eyes worried.
She clutched his hand tighter.
‘When is Miss Emerson due in?’ he asked.
‘Soon, I imagine. She’s gone to her appointment at Mr Campbell’s and—’ She stopped. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I declined the job, Lucille. The client owns this house and he asked me to serve papers on you for eviction.’ He gripped her hand.
‘Mr Perkins?’ Lucille sat still for a moment. ‘Eviction? But my rent is paid up. How can he do that?’
‘I haven’t got to the bottom of it yet. I do know for a fact that his wife is friends with Mrs Cooper. I suspect he’s acting on her wishes, or on his wife’s wishes after a mouthful from Mrs Cooper.’
Lucille sat back, withdrawing her hands. ‘Good Lord, how ridiculous. I should make an appointment with Mr Campbell myself. How can I be evicted if I’ve paid my rent? I have all my receipts.’
David spread his hands. ‘I hate to say it, my dearest Lucille, but I think the Coopers mean to besmirch your character and see you out on the street because you employ Miss Emerson.’
Lucille’s mouth popped open, and she closed it abruptly, incensed. ‘For that reason?’
‘Indeed. I don’t think Perkins has any legal footing on which to evict, so I suspect this is to further unsettle the current situation regarding Miss Emerson and Edwin Cooper, who has shown himself to be quite vile.’
Lucille shook her head. ‘This is just awful, so mean-spirited. First the exhibition and now my home, not to mention what they’re doing to dear Evie. What on earth does that family hope to gain?’ A rush of heat flew over her neck. Oh no, no. Not now. She reached for a fan and waved it vigorously at her throat.
‘No idea, my lovely. This behaviour of the Coopers has happened so fast, my suspicious nature makes me wonder if they haven’t employed the same tactics before. Seems very efficient to me; a well-oiled machine.’ David’s brows rose. ‘Maybe similar has worked in the past to procure financial gain.’
Lucille gazed around her. The front room was very small, but the rest of the house was comfortable and well maintained. She’d enjoyed living here. Milton, her husband, a farrier by trade, had brought her here over twenty-five years ago. Before that they’d lived for some time with his mother in her two-roomed house. Their five children had all been born here. (In such quick succession, how on earth had she coped?) They’d all grown up in this house and now gone off to the city for work. Two had married and had families, all had lives of their own. Milton had died here and, luckily for Lucille, had left her in a better position than others who’d been widowed.
‘I’m not sure what I should do,’ she said, almost to herself.
‘There’s no need to do anything yet.’ David reached over and pressed her hands. ‘I’m going to do a bit of digging, and I know a man who could help.’
Lucille rubbed her forehead. ‘I don’t have enough to make Mr Perkins an offer for the house, and chances are if he’s talking eviction, he’s not likely to accept an offer from me anyway.’ She put a hand to her throat, the internal heat subsiding. ‘I can’t stay here, David, that’s all there is to it, not with this over my head.’
He stared, and something like indecision was etched on his face. He cleared his throat. ‘Ah. Well, it’s probably only an empty threat, my darling. And Perkins must find another person to serve the notice, because I doubt he has the stomach to come to your door.’
‘A threat all the same. It’s undermined my confidence, my security.’ She squeezed his hands in return and stood. ‘I need to think about this.’ She didn’t want to go to Melbourne to be closer to her children; she’d never have the same independence as here. Plus times were hard, and two of her married sons accommodated her other three children between them. There wouldn’t be room for her anywhere with them. Besides, that would take her away from David.
She paced to the door and back, only a few feet, but she couldn’t stand still. She could try to rent somewhere else …
‘I’m sure we will come up with a solution, dear lady. I’ve been thinking—’
‘David?’ A sudden awful thought had struck her. ‘Would Mrs Cooper have long enough arms to prevent me from renting elsewhere here?’ Her heart began to hammer.
‘I seriously doubt that,’ David said calmly. He stood and held out his hands, pulling her into a hug as he went on. ‘I’m sorry to have brought this news, but better you know in advance than not. Let’s not panic. Let’s work out a solid plan, together.’
Together. Oh dear, he said ‘together’. Why did it have to coincide with talk of her eviction? Lucille, what timing! But that didn’t matter, not really. Whatever the outcome of this pickle, David would always be there for her, she knew that.
They swayed a little. It was so right to be in his arms, her head on his chest. They lingered. This was real. Happiness with a man had come her way again. Perhaps it was time to make big changes, perhaps the talk of possible eviction was all the prompting she needed.
She closed her eyes. The strong rhythmic thud of his heart under her ear was comforting. He wasn’t in any hurry to let her go. If anything, he hugged her that much tighter, and murmured something into her hair, something soothing. Love was offered to her, warm and solid.
Taking a breath, taking a risk, she said, ‘I cannot give up my business, David.’
He waited a beat. ‘Of course not.’
‘I would always have to make my own way in the world. I’ve done it since Milton died. I enjoy it, you know that. I made sure that my children were well kept, and that they had a basic education.’
‘Not an easy task, and much self-sacrifice, I know,’ he said, softly. ‘You did a fine job, Lucille, my love.’
My love. She pressed on, lifting her head to look at him. ‘I’ve always administered my own money, paid my own bills. I always will. I must.’
‘Of course. A credit to you.’ He kissed the top of her head, then held her away from him. ‘A man is blessed to love and admire such a woman.’ He took her hands, his warm brown eyes searching hers.
Oh, my heart.
Drawing in a deep breath he brought her hands to his lips. ‘And now that you’ve told me what I’m in for if I should ever dare propose marriage to you, I’ll venture a chance. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife, Mrs Downing?’ His eyes twinkled.
A moment’s hesitation herself, she gave a little laugh. ‘Oh dear, I wasn’t very subtle, was I?’
‘No need to be. We’re thinking in similar fashion, I’m happy to say. But I’m afraid, dearest lady, if I have to be traditional and get down on one knee, I might not get up again.’
‘Oh, please don’t, no need.’ She framed his face with her hands. ‘I would very much like to be your wife.’
He pressed a firm kiss on her mouth. ‘I don’t know why we haven’t thought of it before,’ he said tongue-in-cheek. ‘It’s a good idea and my house will suit us very well. I hope you’ll forgive me for presuming, but I had already considered it.’ At her look of surprise, he said, ‘Asking you to marry me has been in my thoughts for a while, and this morning—even before that little man arrived—I’d made up my mind to do something about it. My house has a wonderful front room to host the town’s most excellent millinery business. And I own the place, so no one can evict me.’
She gave him a smile, cupped his cheek. ‘It’s a very good idea.’
‘Excited?’
She beamed at him. ‘Oh yes,’ and smacked a kiss on his lips.
He nodded, smiled, then taking her hands, became serious. ‘But first, if you’ll allow, let’s be practical before high romance and excitement takes us away. I want you to get me all your rent receipts, and I want you to pack your most valuable items and give them to me for safekeeping.’ At her look, he said, ‘I would put nothing past this Cooper family. Then we wait to see if it goes further than a few annoying incidents.’
‘I hope it doesn’t.’ Lucille stared at his broad neat fingernails, the smattering of dark hair near the cuffs at his wrists, the prominent veins on the backs of his hands as she gripped them. ‘David, your proposal shouldn’t be just because I’m under threat.’
He barked a laugh. ‘It isn’t, my lovely, not at all. Only a coincidence of timing,’ he said. ‘It’s long overdue, and I love you with all my heart.’ He opened his arms and drew her in.
The door swung open and three young women stood and stared at them. ‘Oh, Mrs Downing. Mr Kingsley,’ Evie said. ‘I’m so sorry—’
‘Don’t be,’ Mr Kingsley said, and gave Mrs Downing a brief formal bow. ‘Mrs Downing and I had just wrapped up our business, and I must be on my way.’
Lucille’s hand lingered in his, with no heed to it being noticed. ‘Where are you going, Mr Kingsley?’ she asked, and heard the worry in her voice.
‘To see that man I mentioned could help. His name is Bendigo Barrett, and he specialises in investigations. I will report back directly.’ He took up his hat. ‘Don’t forget to pack those things, will you?’ He smiled at her. ‘Good day to you all,’ he said, and as the three women stepped aside, he left the house.
‘Mrs Downing, he just gave you the most wonderful smile,’ Posie commented. ‘Oh, and you have one, too.’
Lucille spread her hands, lifted her gaze to the ceiling. ‘Do I?’
Posie understood right away. ‘Oh, Mrs Downing, how delightful,’ she said, beaming at a bemused Ann.
Evie seemed to have missed things, too. She was deep in thought. ‘Did Mr Kingsley just say he was going to see a Bendigo Barrett?’
‘He did. Do you know him?’
‘Apparently he’s making a good name for himself. He owns a small sheep farm just out of town, but he’s also a private detective. Mr Campbell spoke highly of him, and said he would employ him on my behalf.’
‘Private detective?’ Posie cried, alarm in her widening eyes.
‘Ah, in that case, Posie and I should get along,’ Ann said. ‘There seems much for you to discuss and we’ll only be in the way.’ She brushed past Evie. ‘I’ll come back to pick you up when you’ve finished work. Come along, Posie, the ladies have lots of hats to repair.’
‘Come along, Posie, dear.’ Ann herded her outside. ‘Good day to you both.’
Waving off the two women, Lucille closed the door and faced Evie with a glowing smile. ‘There is much to tell you, some good, some not so good, and there definitely are a lot of hats to repair, exhibition or not.’