That night, Luke dreamed he was back in the depths of Abbott’s mine, rushing blindly ahead of the flood. More of a vision than a dream. When the noxious air cast him choking to the ground, he rose above the flood and witnessed what happened next – Edward, dragging him to safety.
Luke woke up in a sweat, with the morning light streaming in. He relived the dream, seeing the fear in Edward’s eyes as he leapt from the cage. It was an act of bravery, and Luke owed Belle’s husband his life, damn him. It complicated things.
A knock came at the door, and a waiter rolled in the breakfast trolley. Devilled kidneys, kippers, bacon, boiled eggs, poached cod – a fine spread that should have been welcome after a night of drinking. But a cold stone lay in Luke’s stomach where his appetite should have been.
Maybe he’d ask Molly to join him. He didn’t know what it was. Perhaps because she was a living link to a remarkable time in his life. Perhaps because he was channelling Angus these days. But for some reason she always made him feel better.
‘Did I wake you, Molly?’
Snores came from the nurse’s room.
‘Oh no, sir. I always was in the habit of rising early.’
He wanted to say how he remembered. How when he was young and ungrateful, it had annoyed him when she rose at dawn to beat rugs and chop wood on his one day off. Instead he said, ‘Good, because I’m inviting you to breakfast.’
Luke smiled as Molly piled her plate high with eggs and kippers back in his suite. Watching her tuck in revived his own appetite, and he helped himself to the poached cod.
Molly’s appetite did not match her ambition, and before long she put the plate aside.
‘You’re too good to me. It’s more than I deserve.’
‘Nonsense.’ He picked up the pot to pour her some tea.
‘I need to talk, sir.’
There was something about her tone and the way her eyes held his – a certain gravitas. He put down the pot.
‘I won’t blame you two hoots if you turf me out on the street afterwards. Still, it needs saying.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I know who you are. You’re Adam.’
Becky had warned him of the danger, but Molly hadn’t seemed to know him and he’d reckoned himself to be safe. He should have prepared for this moment, thought of what to say. There was no point denying it. She knew him as surely as he knew her.
‘When?’
‘I supposed you was Adam as soon as I saw you, but I put it down to the fever. Once I was in my right mind, well, there were no doubt.’
‘And what do you plan to do now?’
‘Clear my conscience.’ Her voice was strong and clear. ‘I did you a terrible wrong, sir. A wrong I thought could never be put right. It’s been eating me up, all these years, and now God has sent me a miracle. You, back here, alive, so I can apologise for my sins.’
Where was this going?
‘It were me that turned you in to the coppers. I’d found your letters in the cottage, signed as Luke, and put two and two together. When I saw you that night at the party, well . . . there were a reward for Luke Tyler, and I blamed you for not rescuing my Angus.’
He reached for her hand. ‘If I could have, Molly . . .’
‘Oh, I know that now, sir, but back then I were bitter and angry and blind with grief. It tore my heart out, though, when I heard you’d died. It were all my fault. Angus loved you, that’s the truth, and I should have protected you. He would have wanted that. My worthless life hasn’t been worth living since I took young Abbott’s blood money.’
‘Young Abbott.’ Luke stiffened. ‘You mean Edward? What’s he got to do with this?’
‘It were him I told, sir. He sent me straight to Mr Cornish who fetched the sergeant. Paid me thirty pounds on top of the reward money. Thirty pieces of silver, more like it, and I’ve been cursed ever since. I want you to know how sorry I am.’
Luke released Molly’s hand and tried to make sense of her words.
So . . . it was Edward Abbott who’d betrayed him. Who’d wanted him hanged for the crime of protecting Belle, the girl he’d professed to love and went on to marry. Luke’s heart hammered against his ribs so hard it hurt. Why? Not to avenge his father, surely? Edward hated Henry. Luke had done him a favour, freeing him from under the thumb. No, this was about Belle. The one way Edward could ensure Luke was out of her life forever. Or so he’d thought. Luke’s hands clenched into fists. Big mistake.
Molly stood up. ‘I should go.’
‘No.’ Luke sat her gently back down. ‘It’s my turn to apologise. I was an ungrateful young fool back then. You took me in, looked after me . . . It was unforgiveable the way I treated you. By disrespecting you, I hurt Angus as well. He didn’t deserve that.’ Luke couldn’t meet her eyes. ‘Angus loved you very much, Molly, he told me all the time. I think I was jealous of that love. Can you forgive me?’
When he looked up, her eyes were streaming with silent tears. He knew now what Angus had loved about this woman: her courage, her generosity, her strong moral compass. Molly could have gone to the papers, earned a fortune for the story of the year. The famous Colonel Lucas Buchanan, war hero and millionaire, exposed as a poor boy from Hobart, an escaped murderer, destined for the gallows. Or she could have kept quiet, accepting his patronage and hoping it continued. Instead, she’d risked everything to tell him the truth.
‘A peace above all earthly dignities,’ he murmured. ‘A still and quiet conscience.’
‘What’s that, sir?’
‘Shakespeare, Molly. You embody that quote far better than Thomas Wolsey ever did. It would be my honour if you’d remain here as my guest.’
Molly flushed with pleasure and relief. ‘I won’t be no burden. Once I’m well I’ll get a job and pay me own way.’
‘As you wish.’ He stood up, wiped his face with a napkin and kissed her. ‘From now on, you should suit yourself in all things.’
Becky glanced around and closed the classroom door behind her. ‘Luke, what on earth are you doing here?’ Her voice an angry whisper. ‘Belle is just down the corridor.’
‘I’ve rented a house.’
‘Where? You don’t mean in Hobart?’
‘Not far from here, actually.’
Becky took Luke’s arm, hurried him down the hall and out the front door. ‘You have to go.’
He took an address from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. ‘Come round tonight. I’ll cook you dinner.’
‘You will?’
Luke grinned. ‘See you at six. Housewarming.’
Becky arrived early at the thoroughly modern single-storey home of red brick. It had a rambling garden and gables carved with kangaroos and kookaburras. Becky loved it. Luke showed her through its charming rooms, which were more cosy than grand, with window seats, chimney corners and arched leadlight windows sporting wattle and waratah designs.
‘Nobody knows about this place.’ Luke stoked the fire in the front room. ‘It will be my haven, my bolthole. A chance to escape the spotlight. Do you know it’s been six weeks, and newsmen are still camped outside my hotel?’
‘Luke . . .’
‘I’ve made your favourite, Beck. At least, it used to be your favourite: corned beef and cabbage followed by apple pie. The pie’s from the hotel kitchen, but I cooked the rest myself.’
Becky frowned. ‘What are you doing?’
He poured her a large glass of wine. ‘Drink this and I’ll tell you a story.’
Becky held out her glass to be refilled. ‘It was Edward who betrayed you? I can’t believe it.’
‘Do you think Belle knows?’ Luke could barely look at his sister as he asked. The pain if Belle did . . .
‘Absolutely not. We’ve often talked about that night. Belle thinks that Edward did everything he could to protect you.’
‘By paying Molly thirty pounds to turn me in?’
Becky went pale. ‘Believe me, Belle has no idea.’
‘Perhaps it’s time she did.’
‘It would devastate her, Luke, and to what end? To make her marriage more torturous than it already is?’
‘So her marriage is torturous?’
‘I spoke out of turn.’ Becky gulped her wine. ‘Can we eat now? I’m starving.’
After dinner, they sat before the fire, drinking hot cocoa, lost in thought. It could have been the old days. Lamplight and shadow-flames dancing on the wall. Becky’s face in the glow of the firelight, turning back the clock. Her profile like that of a young girl.
They used teaspoons to scoop up the last of the sweet, chocolatey froth.
At last Becky spoke. ‘You’ve made up your mind then – to stay?’
‘Yes.’
‘Despite the danger?’
‘Yes.’
‘You can’t have Belle.’
‘Can’t I?’
‘You’re dead, remember? And even if you weren’t . . .’ Becky came over, knelt down in front of Luke’s chair and laid her head on his knee. ‘Before Elizabeth Campbell died, she asked Belle to promise her something. “Whatever happens, stay with Edward and make the marriage work. Be the strong one, for the sake of Robbie and the girls.” Belle made that solemn promise to her mother. She won’t resile from it. Edward would have to hit rock bottom before she would abandon him.’ She yawned. ‘Let’s not talk about it any more.’
Luke stroked Becky’s hair for the longest time, digesting what she’d told him. A deathbed vow. It was almost funny, Elizabeth still managing to keep them apart.
Half an hour later, when he looked down, Becky was asleep.
‘So Edward would have to hit rock bottom,’ he murmured. ‘That could be arranged.’