24 May 1882, Queenscliff, Victoria
Major Ellsworth’s wife fussed over her, twitching a sleeve here, smoothing a flounce there. The dress Laura was now wearing belonged to Major Ellsworth’s daughter, and although Laura was a little taller they were mostly the same size. It was a beautiful dress, far more beautiful than anything she had ever worn before. There was a lace panel on the bodice, and she brushed her fingertips carefully over it, worried her roughened skin would catch on the fine decoration. A lighthouse-keeper’s daughter was not used to garments made only for display. Her clothing was practical and long-wearing, and she was not quite sure how to stand or move in this borrowed finery when she was used to striding along rough tracks and rowing boats.
Laura and Edmund had not waited long for help. Some fishermen from a nearby cottage had found them, and after kindly offering to take care of the whaleboat, had pointed them in the direction of the authorities.
They were wet and cold and dirty, but there was no time to waste. As they walked, Edmund had smoothed his fingers over the marks on her wrists from the ropes, as if he wanted to make them go away. Laura thought there was something rather wonderful about that.
Retired Major Ellsworth, who had made his home in Queenscliff, was at first sceptical as they told their story, and then he was amazed. Laura noticed that the elderly military gentleman took more note of what Edmund said. Despite Edmund’s insistence, he seemed to find it particularly difficult to believe that a young woman could have sailed a boat so well and so accurately. Eventually, they were told to wait and a police inspector came to question them in the presence of another military officer, who was not retired.
They listened intently to the story of Albert Munro and Elsie Wright, frowning and directing a lowly constable to take notes. But Laura could see they were more interested in the parcel of papers sent by Mr Jones.
‘Do you see that building there?’ the military man asked, nodding to the window. Laura was so tired she had forgotten his name, but dutifully she turned towards the high walls of a military fort. The man went on. ‘This fort was built during the Crimean War, to stop the Russians from invading our country. It has been allowed to fall into disrepair, but now we are rebuilding and enlarging it. Making it a veritable fortress,’ he added with satisfaction.
Laura and Edmund exchanged a puzzled look. All she really wanted to do was lie down and sleep, but it seemed as if nobody cared about that.
‘The papers Mr Jones sent …?’ Edmund politely filled the silence.
‘Mr Jones has sent us some valuable information. Statements, do you see. Confirmation of what we feared.’
‘So, the Russians do intend to invade?’ Edmund said, eyebrows raised. ‘We are a long way from Russia, sir.’
‘Nevertheless, that is what the rumours suggest. We must be prepared.’
His self-important manner reminded Laura uncomfortably of Mr Jones.
‘We urgently need to find Albert Munro,’ she reminded him. ‘He murdered his wife and would have put to death another man if he had had the chance. You need to send a boat to Benevolence Island where that badly injured man is, and other survivors who are waiting to be rescued.’
‘Yes, yes. All of that is in hand,’ he dismissed. ‘Do not concern yourselves.’
After that it was a blur. Mrs Ellsworth took them under her wing, sending Edmund off with her husband’s valet and deciding Laura needed a hot bath before she tucked her up in bed.
‘Sleep well,’ Laura heard her say as she drifted into sleep. ‘Then I have some good news for you both!’
It wasn’t until the next day that Laura learned the ‘good news’. There was to be a reception held in her honour at one of the grander hotels in Queenscliff.
‘A reception,’ Laura repeated dubiously. ‘For me? No, really, I don’t think …’
‘Indeed, you cannot refuse! Mr Bailey, tell Miss Webster we will not take no for an answer. And, sir, I believe you are related to the Marquess of Albury?’
Edmund, who had arrived for breakfast, smiled politely and stared at the ground. ‘A distant relative,’ he said.
‘Well, even so, it is a privilege.’
Laura wasn’t sure where to look. The Edmund from their voyage across Bass Strait, the scruffy man who had held her hand and spoken of his past, was changing before her eyes. She told herself she had always known this would be the way of it, and that she would have to let him go, but it hurt. It hurt a great deal.
Mrs Ellsworth’s voice interrupted Laura’s memories of the past few hours. It felt as if she was caught once more in the tidal streams of the Rip. She had been bullied in a very polite way by the Ellsworths, and now she was wearing their daughter’s dress.
‘Your deportment needs a little work,’ Mrs Ellsworth muttered to herself, a keen eye on Laura. ‘But no one could dispute you are a lovely girl, Miss Webster. I am sure the gentlemen here tonight will be taken with you. I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t get some calling on us tomorrow, just so they can see you again.’
Laura did not know what to say to that. She wanted to fiddle and twitch, but she had been told to stand still as the maid finished dressing her hair. A circlet of flowers had been woven through the fair tresses on her crown, while the length was now up above her nape in a heavy sort of bun, held in place by a multitude of pins.
She stared at herself in the mirror and decided she looked like someone else. A stranger. Certainly not the Laura Webster she was used to. She did not know what to think. She tried to tell herself that she was experiencing the life that Edmund had told her she needed to experience. This was what she had been missing. Then why wasn’t she more excited at the prospect of attending her first ball?
‘You are a heroine, Miss Webster. Everyone here tonight will know it.’ Mrs Ellsworth stood back now and clasped her hands to her bosom in a rather dramatic manner, although Laura noticed her eyes were calculating. As if she was already planning Laura’s wedding.
And was she a heroine? Like Grace Darling, or some of those other lighthouse women, saving shipwrecked folk from the waves, or trying to. Her mother had been a heroine, but Laura did not think she was in the same league. She had simply done what was asked of her, and what she was good at. And besides, Albert and Elsie had got away. Surely, if she was a true heroine, she would have managed to prevent their escape?
When Mrs Ellsworth led Laura into the ballroom, she grew more uneasy. There were a great many people crammed into it. How could they breathe? Laura was certainly finding it difficult. She had been forced into a corset and it was laced up so tightly she wondered if she would ever breathe again. Evidently, that was not a concern, though. It was one’s outward appearance that mattered.
There were many introductions, and she did her best to respond. Glances were sent her way, excited and knowing, and everyone seemed to want to speak with her. And touch her. A squeeze of the hand, a brush of fingers, a firm hold on her arm. It was as if she had become a talisman, and to touch her was good luck.
Laura began to feel slightly sick.
At first she searched for Edmund. Over the past days, she had become used to his shy smiles and admiring looks. But soon she saw that he was similarly engaged with the major’s guests. Especially women, and there seemed to be rather a lot of them surrounding him. Pretty girls with gay laughs, waving their fans in front of their faces, eyes wide and flirtatious.
He might be a black sheep, but he was related to a marquess, and not even the fact that he had been sent off by his family to the colonies could disguise his London polish and sophistication. He fit this setting far more eloquently than Laura, and she felt her foolish heart sink.
Well, now you know, she told herself, accepting the proffered glass of champagne. It was nasty stuff, but she sipped it, just so she could tell Miriam she had. Her stepmother would be agog when she heard about all of this, would want to know all the details, so Laura did her best to take them in, although her head felt full to bursting with the noise and the swirling colours and the strangeness of it all. She longed to be standing on the cliffs of Benevolence, gazing out at the far horizon. At nothing. Just her and the elements and her own thoughts.
‘You look exquisite.’
And there was Edmund, standing at her side. She noticed again his dark evening wear, the crisp white shirt beneath his jacket and the high collar. His hair had been trimmed, and his face shaven, and he was very handsome. He had always been handsome, of course, but she could not help thinking he had looked better with her in the lifeboat, the woollen hat pulled down over his hair, his eyes squinting at the horizon, and his hand on hers on the tiller.
She did not know this man before her now. He frightened her a little. He was a stranger.
‘Borrowed clothes,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I am myself in them.’
He leaned down closer, conspiratorially. ‘I know. I am used to it and even I find it odd. I have only been on Benevolence for a short while and solitude seems to have entered my bloodstream.’
She did not believe him. He was being kind, trying to make her feel better. It was the way Edmund was.
Another man bowed to her, interrupting them. ‘Miss Webster, may I have this dance?’
‘Yes, yes, thank you.’ She smiled awkwardly, glanced at Edmund as he stepped back, and was whirled away. At least Miriam had taught her to dance. Now she was grateful for those lessons in the large room at the cottage, ignoring her father’s laughter and applause, watching her steps. She still had to concentrate on those steps, but was confident she would not disgrace herself.
There was a break in the dancing while supper was served, the dishes so numerous and strange, Laura found it difficult to decide which to eat. Not that they were not delicious. A creamy concoction with raspberry jam and sponge was so delectable that if she was not being watched by all these people, she would have gone back for more.
The speech that came afterwards made her feel sick again. The major stood up and lauded her bravery, recounting her voyage from Benevolence to the mainland in great detail, using words like astounding and remarkable, and our very own Grace Darling. He spoke darkly about the ambitions of foreign powers and how lucky they were to have been warned in time. It was as if Albert and Elsie did not exist, and that Laura had made her dash from the island simply to deliver Mr Jones’s papers. The major ended by saying she deserved a medal and he intended to start a petition to get her one.
There was thunderous applause.
Laura was asked to respond, but all she could do was stumble through a thankyou, and then smile until her face ached as everyone applauded again. It was awful and she hated it. She wanted to walk out. She wanted desperately to go home.
There was more dancing after all of that. She saw Edmund dancing too, but he did not ask her. She saw him making men and woman laugh, being his charming self, completely in his element. Perhaps, she thought, his mother would hear of this and send him the money for his passage home? That would be a good thing. He could resume his role in the society he was born to inhabit. Like the hero in one of the novels Laura liked to read, all would be forgiven and a happy ending would wrap up the story nicely.
Eventually, it became too much. A singer began to warble her way through a popular song, and Laura chose that moment to slip away. Retired Major Ellsworth and his wife lived behind one of the grand hotels that graced Queenscliff’s harbour frontage. It was not far from where the ball had been held, and although she had come by carriage, Laura decided she would much rather walk.
She suspected if anyone saw her they would think her actions scandalous, but there was no one about, and besides, she simply no longer cared. Too bad if her borrowed slippers were so thin that she felt every stone on the footpath, and the breeze was chilly against her bare shoulders. She wanted solitude and quiet, and as the gentle sound of the sea filled up the emptiness inside her, she began to feel more herself.
‘Laura! Miss Webster!’
The sound of her name being called brought her to a stop. At once, she wished she had ignored it and continued walking. Now there would be questions she did not want to answer. But the gentleman was moving swiftly closer, and as she suspected, it was Edmund.
‘Aren’t you enjoying yourself?’ he asked her with a frown. The night about them was soft velvet, the stars distant silver buttons, and the smell of the sea was so welcome, tears pricked her eyes. Or perhaps it was Edmund being here that did that because soon he would be gone.
‘I … I don’t know. It was interesting. Perhaps I would learn to enjoy it?’ She had not meant to make it a question.
He laughed. ‘Would you learn to enjoy it?’
She could not lie, so she sighed and said, ‘No.’
‘Where are you going?’ he said curiously.
His gaze slid over her finery and the humour in his eyes was very familiar. ‘So, you thought you’d walk?’
‘I didn’t want a fuss.’
He took her hand, placed it carefully on his and then began to walk with her. ‘Tell me what you are really thinking, Miss Webster. You have never bothered to prevaricate with me before. Your honesty is one of the things that I like most about you.’
Was it? Laura walked a little in silence, gathering her thoughts. If he wanted honesty, then she would give it to him.
‘From the moment we met, I could tell you were surprised by the life I lead on Benevolence. The solitary life. You told me about your sisters, and your mother, and how you could not imagine them in my place. You said I needed to experience the world outside of my island. That I may find I liked it.’
He was staring at the ground, his head bowed. His shoulders seemed rather stiff, as if he was struggling with some thoughts of his own. ‘I did say that, didn’t I? Should I apologise?’
‘No. I don’t want you to apologise. You meant well, and what you said made sense. I know my father will be leaving the island in three years, and Miriam will want to stay in Hobart. I told you that. I have decisions to make and you were right when you said I had never really lived a life other than that of a lighthouse-keeper’s daughter.’
‘I don’t think the brief glimpse you have had tonight should put you off, Laura. This has been rather excessive.’
She smiled. ‘It has, hasn’t it? But you seemed to enjoy it. Why couldn’t I? Honestly, Mr Bailey, I don’t think I am made for social engagements and chitchat and … and dancing. Well, not this sort of dancing, anyway. I didn’t mind dancing with Miriam, laughing at our missteps, feeling comfortable. I didn’t feel comfortable tonight.’
‘No, I could see that.’
‘You didn’t dance with me.’
She had not meant to blurt it out, and he turned to her, surprised. ‘I wasn’t sure you would want me to. Besides, I thought you should learn what it’s like to be in demand, sought after. I thought you might like it.’
‘Not really. I would have liked to dance with you.’
‘I wish I had, then. I wanted to.’
‘You are related to a marquess.’ She hadn’t meant to say that, either.
‘I don’t care about that.’
‘But others do.’
He shook his head and they carried on walking, more slowly now, as if making the most of these last moments.
‘Major Ellsworth has arranged for a boat to sail to Benevolence tomorrow,’ she said. ‘They will bring poor Tom back with them, as well as Mr Jones and Isaac. I’ll make sure Seal is aboard, too.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’m sure Mr Jones will be over the moon.’
‘He’ll expect a medal as well, you wait and see.’
She huffed. ‘I think it is all a storm in a teacup, the Russians, but I may be wrong.’
‘It seems unlikely they would be interested in us,’ he agreed. ‘Will you be on the boat?’
‘Yes. I have to get back. My father needs me, and I miss everyone. It’s my home.’
‘Then this is goodbye.’ He was watching her, his face in shadow.
Laura nodded, refusing to let the mood become solemn. ‘I suppose it is. I wish you well, Mr Bailey. I’m sure that one day you will find out what makes you happy.’
He paused and then he lifted her hand to his lips. ‘I’ll never forget you, Laura.’
‘No, and I won’t forget you.’ Her throat ached and her eyes were full. Who would have thought that when she first met Edmund Bailey that saying goodbye to him would be so difficult?
‘Will you be all right?’ she asked him tentatively. ‘I mean, you said you were destitute.’
He grinned wryly. ‘Turns out I do have a friend of the family here, and he is happy to put me up until I find my feet. I’m sure he will write to my father, and perhaps he will feel guilty enough to send for me. I am not holding my breath, however.’ He didn’t look excited at the prospect, rather he looked resigned.
They did not say any more, and then she was at her destination, and he bowed a farewell as she went inside. And that was it. Over. Was it a romance? She thought it might be, or could have been. Her first romance, then. Something to ponder in the years ahead.
It was odd, though, and uncomfortable. She had not thought her heart would ache so, or she would feel like weeping at the thought of never seeing him again. The conversations they had had, the smiles they had shared … She would miss him. She rather thought she would miss him every day for the rest of her life.
* * *
It was morning in Queenscliff, and she stood on the deck of the boat that was to take her back to Benevolence. She was not sorry to be leaving Major Ellsworth and his wife, kind as they were. They had not been very happy with her for leaving the ball on her own and so early, but she had made up her mind. She was stubborn when it came to making her own choices, not the malleable girl Mrs Ellsworth had hoped her to be. Perhaps she wouldn’t get that medal, after all.
Someone leaned on the railing at her side. Laura wished they would leave her alone. The captain and several of his officers had come to speak to her since she had boarded the ship, and although she had been polite, she really wished they wouldn’t. She stared towards the grand hotels of Queenscliff and waited for this one to say his piece.
Miss Webster, will you tell me about … Miss Webster, is it true … Miss Webster, I wish you would …
Instead, the voice beside her was one she was very familiar with. ‘I thought I might come and stay for a while.’
She seemed to have lost her ability to speak, and the use of her eyes. They blurred, forcing her to blink hard, her hands tight on the railing.
‘I’ve decided I rather like solitude. I thought we might be able to enjoy it together. If that is acceptable to you?’
He was staring down into the water, wearing the woollen hat and her father’s jacket, as if he had rejected the man from last night in his handsome evening clothes, with his polite chitchat.
‘There was a moment, on the island,’ he went on, when she said nothing. ‘I don’t know if you remember.’
I am a man alone, without a clear future, but with plenty of experience of the world, and you are a woman alone, without a clear future, and with little experience of the world beyond this island. It seems as if we can help each other, Laura.
‘I do remember.’
‘I thought … I believe we could deal well together. Different as we are, we fit very well. We could try, at least.’
‘Are you sure that is what you want?’ she said. ‘I think you could have so much more if you stayed. You could have your old life back, Edmund. Not many men would want to give that up.’
‘I could. Maybe. But I wouldn’t be happy.’ There was sincerity and hope in his expression. ‘I think I am just beginning to understand what real happiness means. It would feel like defeat if I walked away now.’
Laura gave that some thought. If he was willing to take this chance, then she should let him. ‘Will you be staying long?’ she asked tentatively.
He smiled, and she could see she had pleased him. ‘As long as you. If your father allows it.’
Whatever he saw in her face made him bolder. He slipped an arm about her shoulders and tugged her in against his chest. ‘Laura,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘My extraordinary girl.’