One morning, shortly after Luke left for Tiger Pass, Belle didn’t get up.
Her mother looked in on her before leaving to teach at the little mine school. ‘Be lazy if you like,’ she said. ‘I’ve no time for your moods.’
But this was no mood. Belle feared she was with child.
She waited for her mother to leave, went to the library, and took a large volume off the shelf: Advice to Mothers on the Management of their Offspring, a popular book on women’s health. Then she hurried back to her room. As a curious child, Belle had often sneaked this book from the shelf. Now she turned to the section on pregnancy.
The first sign of pregnancy was ‘ceasing to become unwell’, which she guessed meant ceasing her periods. Horrified, Belle realised she had the second and third signs too – nausea, and painful, swollen breasts. The symptoms had bothered her for weeks now, and could no longer be dismissed as figments of the imagination. She slipped the book under her bed and hugged Sasha tightly, more certain than ever that she was in trouble.
In the coming days, anxiety ruled Belle. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Her mane of auburn hair went uncombed and unwashed. She stopped bathing. The truth was, she couldn’t bear to undress and reveal the body that had so betrayed her. If only she could talk to someone, but who? Sasha listened sympathetically, but offered no advice. Millie was the world’s biggest gossip. Luke and her father had vanished into the ranges with Bear and the tigers. Telling Grace or Edward would cause a scandal, and it would be too humiliating to confide in her mother.
So Belle spent her days alone. Galloping Whisky at punishing speeds up the waterfall track was her only plan. She hoped it might bring on her period or that she’d discover Luke and Bear waiting for her at their special place by the falls. She was always disappointed. Sitting for hours in the mossy nest she’d shared with Luke, listening to the constant murmur of falling water. Crushingly alone. She may as well have been the last person on earth. Only that little stream, weeping beside her, brought any comfort.
Elizabeth woke one morning to find Belle had thrown up her meagre breakfast. She wasn’t the only one suspicious now. Belle’s ‘nervous condition’ was becoming the talk of the household. A knot formed in Elizabeth’s stomach. This could be put off no longer.
She found Belle in her room, huddled on the edge of the bed, her once rosy complexion sallow and wan. Upon seeing her mother, Belle burst out crying. Elizabeth dreaded having to ask, but fear of the unthinkable hardened her heart. She had to know.
A pregnancy would be the unthinkable. In proper society, a girl could have no sexual contact prior to marriage. A hand around the waist or a stolen kiss was all young couples could hope for. Men engaged in pre-marital sex only with servants or prostitutes. Girls were virgins on their wedding night, mostly entirely ignorant and often terrified. Whether this was right or wrong did not concern Elizabeth now. It was just the way it was. She sat beside her daughter, who turned her face to the wall.
‘Belle?’ No response. ‘Belle, what’s wrong?’ Elizabeth took her daughter’s wrists, pulling her to her feet and forcing eye contact. The shame she saw confirmed it. ‘Oh, my poor darling.’
‘I’m sorry, Mama.’
Elizabeth swept her daughter up in a fierce, protective embrace. For the longest time they held each other, reconnecting. When they finally fell together on the bed, Belle began to talk. Elizabeth still held her, stroking her hair, murmuring encouragement when racking sobs interrupted the flood of words. At last Belle was spent.
‘Ask Millie to run a bath and wash your hair. When she asks what is wrong, as the meddling girl is bound to do, you must complain that it’s your time of the month. Then put on a day dress, not trousers, and wait in your room.’
For the first time in a long time, Belle meekly obeyed her mother.
Elizabeth dispatched Davey to town for the doctor and lay down in her room to steady her racing heart. Grimly, she held onto the hope that this was nothing more than an adolescent fit of depression. Or too much exercise? Ada Mitchell often chastised her for allowing Belle to ride out at will. Ada subscribed to the popular belief that genteel girls must be protected from activity. Too much exercise was rumoured to cause them dizzy spells and nausea, perhaps even unbalancing them permanently. Until now Elizabeth had considered this idea outdated and foolish. She hoped she was wrong.
Elizabeth reluctantly considered her options if Belle really was pregnant. There were plenty of potions on the market. Mothers of children attending her school often discussed the various efficacies of these medications – aloes, iron, cathartic powders – available from chemist shops, or by mail order though newspapers. The concoctions were advertised as female pills or ‘cures for abnormal interruptions to monthly cycles’. They were largely ineffective and sometimes dangerous, but she blanched at the prospect of her own dear daughter undergoing the horrific alternative – surgical abortion.
There was another option, of course – the most common one for girls in this sort of trouble. A hasty marriage. But Belle could never marry Luke. Even Elizabeth, with her thoroughly modern views on society, could not countenance such a thing. A convicted felon. A fugitive without money or prospects was an impossible match for her daughter. Another possibility came to mind, but for now she cast it aside. First things first.
Dr Lovejoy arrived promptly after lunch and took a glum and nervous-looking Belle off to her room for an examination. He emerged, stern-faced, some twenty minutes later.
‘I believe your daughter is in the early stages of pregnancy. I’m sorry to be the bearer of such news.’
Elizabeth nodded miserably, not really surprised. ‘Is she well otherwise?’
‘On that matter, I can reassure you. A little thin, perhaps, but on the whole Isabelle presents as a healthy young woman.’
‘Thank you, Doctor,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I trust I can rely on your absolute discretion?’
‘Of course, ma’am. I understand that you have some difficult decisions to make. Be assured you can rely on my help.’
Elizabeth’s eyes moistened as she grasped his hand. ‘I pray to God it doesn’t come to that.’
With a brief bow of his head, Dr Lovejoy excused himself.
Elizabeth went to see Belle. Despite the embarrassing examination and awful confirmation that she was indeed with child, a vast weight seemed to have lifted from her daughter’s shoulders. Belle laid her head in her mother’s lap. ‘You’ll know what to do, won’t you, Mama? And Luke will be back soon.’
Elizabeth shushed her, squeezing her hand. ‘They say a trouble shared is a trouble halved.’
Sasha’s loud barking from the back verandah alerted the pair to someone’s approach. They both rushed to the window. Only one man, Daniel, trudged down the hill towards the house. Belle gave a cry of utter despair.
This will simplify things, thought Elizabeth, grateful to Daniel for leaving Luke behind.