Neal held baby Ivy in one arm and offered the other to assist Mrs. Longrieve down from the cab. He paid the fare and dismissed the driver. He could walk the distance to the inn where they had stayed last night to gather his bag before heading to the train station.
On the quay, he spotted a stout older woman in a dark blue dress who seemed to be scanning the crowd. He waited until she looked their direction, then waved. She nodded and bustled toward them.
“Dr. Stradbroke?” The wind gusted, and she raised a large hand to hold her bonnet securely to her head.
“Thank you for meeting us here.” He motioned for Mrs. Longrieve to come forward. “Mrs. Longrieve, this is Mrs. Allison, the nurse I have hired to travel with you.”
Mrs. Longrieve’s finely boned jaw dropped open. “No, Doctor, I cannot—it is too much to ask of anyone else to suffer my fate.”
“Pshaw.” Mrs. Allison waved her hands in protest. “I do not know what fate you think you face, but let me assure you that you will find Australia a beautiful land with hospitable people ready to welcome you and your little mite.”
“Are you . . .” Mrs. Longrieve looked between Neal and the nurse. “Are you from there?”
“Right you are, my dear.” Mrs. Allison took the baby from Neal. “I came to England to bring my last dear charge to be finished off and presented, and had I not seen the doctor’s posting in the paper, I might have gone mad with grief on the voyage home.” She cooed and cuddled the baby. “But now I shall have days full of the joy of a bairn in my arms again.”
“But I cannot afford—”
Neal stopped her with a hand to her arm. “Mrs. Longrieve, you do not need to worry about it. Mrs. Allison has been paid in full to see to you until you arrive safely at my family’s estate in Bathurst.”
Winifred’s pale brows shot up. “Estate?” Her voice came out a weak rasp.
He chuckled. “It is a rather grand word for a place where cattle and sheep are raised, is it not? But do trust that you will be well looked after, as will Ivy, and that your husband and son will be welcomed as soon as their time of service has passed.”
“I will be allowed to work to earn my keep, yes?”
“Naturally. I knew you would have it no other way. But you will be cared for and looked after until your family can be reunited.” He handed her single large valise to the sailor loading luggage onto the small ferry that would see them out to their ship. “Please write when you arrive and are settled. So long as nothing happens to the ship on which I sent the letter to my family, they should be expecting your arrival. And they should already be at work to discover exactly where Thomas and Johnny have been sent to serve their time.”
He handed her an envelope. “Here is a letter of introduction, just in case my previous letter has not arrived by the time you do.”
She tucked the letter into her reticule. “I do not know how we will ever be able to repay your kindness, Dr. Stradbroke. Truly you have been too, too kind to us.”
“Your family was among the first to welcome me to Jericho. Consider this repayment for your hospitality and friendship.”
“True friendship never needs to be repaid.” She gave him a watery smile, then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Doctor. For everything.”
He waited until the ferry reached the large steamer out in the harbor before leaving the port and walking up Portsmouth’s High Street to the inn. The walk from there to the train station was short, and he arrived in plenty of time to catch the train to London.
No matter how much he wanted to return to Oxford and set everything right with Caddy, he’d given his word that he would return to London to assist Macquarie and Birchip for the remainder of the week. He’d let his regular patients know, and had arranged for the apothecary’s assistant to check on them while he was away. But he had not had a chance to inform Caddy of his planned absence.
What would she think of him disappearing for almost a week after their last encounter?
A few hours later, he climbed out of another cab and entered the gate of Hyde Park after showing his committee credentials to the soldiers guarding it. Before him, the Crystal Palace sprawled like a giant glass-and-iron mountain range, so long that the opposite end disappeared into the misting rain and fog. He entered through the eastern end of the building and made his way down the enormous structure, cringing at the noises of hammering, sawing, yelling, and banging that naturally came with the activity of building display spaces and breaking open shipping crates and setting up for the Exhibition.
Just past the south entrance, in the center of the third mile-long expanse, Neal caught sight of several familiar faces. Macquarie waved him over to join the group as they stood looking toward the south.
“We’re behind the Canadian exhibit?” Neal stopped behind Macquarie and three other committee members who stood with arms crossed.
“Aye. And a display from the West Indies is between Canada and us.” Macquarie shrugged. “No sense in complaining. At least New South Wales has its own designated display space. None of the other colonies do. They are displaying in an area they’re calling the British Possessions of Australasia.”
“I received the wire that the shipment from my father’s estate arrived two days ago.” Neal followed Macquarie beyond Canada and the West Indies to the smaller-by-half space allotted for New South Wales.
“I went to the docks myself to receive it.” Macquarie waved toward a towering stack of crates. “Your father’s goods arrived with a shipment of goods from several other estates.”
Neal divested himself of coat and waistcoat and untied his cravat. “Shall we start unpacking, then?”
Macquarie gave him a crooked smile. “In a hurry to be back on your way to Oxford? No sense in denying it. Do not forget, I had the honor of meeting the charming seamstress who caught your eye.”
Neal grimaced and turned to lift down a small crate from atop the pile.
“What? Am I wrong in believing I saw signs of affection there?”
With no one else he could talk to, words tumbled out of Neal’s mouth before he could stop them. “No, you did not imagine it. However, I have made a total blunder of it all, and I do not know how to rectify the situation before I lose her completely.” He explained Caddy’s disparagement of Australia and everyone from there, along with her displeasure at his inability to trust her. He did not, however, share Caddy’s secret. He would take that to his grave.
“Just tell her, mate. If she loves you, where you were born won’t matter.”
Neal pried the top off of a second crate and handed the hammer and pry bar to another man before unpacking the fur pelts—skins from animals he should be able to identify, but which he had not seen in twenty years. He’d been but a boy last time he’d seen a kangaroo or a wombat, and trying to tell the pelts apart was impossible, for him at least. Would Caddy understand why that made him sad? Why he wanted to go back for a long visit? Or would she balk at the idea of visiting his father and stepmother, aunt and uncle, based on her fear of a land of which she’d only heard bad things?
He wanted to believe Macquarie. And perhaps, once his role in the Royal Society for the Industry of New South Wales was complete, he would tell her.
Neal threw himself into the physical labor of unpacking and then breaking down the crates. Day after day, he worked himself to exhaustion unloading, creating and checking inventory lists, and moving items around the display space as directed by the more senior members of the committee.
He ensured everything his father had consigned for display had arrived and was properly labeled—wool, grain, caskets of the fattest salted beef, copper ore and tools, and lithographs depicting the rich farm and grazing land around Bathurst, as well as the town and its citizens.
He nearly devoured the lithographs—recognizing his aunt’s precise hand in the fine ink lines. He had a stack of pictures at home that she’d drawn for him and sent him over the years; images that kept him connected to his true homeland, the place of his birth.
If he showed those to Caddy, maybe she would begin to understand why Australia—or New South Wales, at any rate—was not as bad as she believed.
Somehow he had to get past her prejudice to show her the good of the place so that, even if she never came to love it, she could at least appreciate it. Because now more than ever, after seeing all these reminders of the place, he wanted to take her there. And to introduce her to his family as his wife.
Edith’s chest burned at the sight of her cousin Kate entering the sitting room on the arm of Stephen Brightwell, Viscount Thynne. But she reminded herself of the announcement that would be made at dinner, and she found a true smile.
“Cousin Katharine. Lord Thynne. Do come meet the baron and baroness.” Edith beamed at them. Kate seemed taken aback by Edith’s friendly demeanor and lagged behind Lord Thynne until he appeared to be pulling her by the arm. She recovered herself and regained his side.
Edith introduced them to Baron and Baroness Carmichael, and after the pleasantries, Oliver gave his greetings to them. Once all of the guests arrived, Edith graciously positioned Kate and Stephen at the door to lead everyone in to dinner.
Between his escorting Kate into the dining room and his assisting her with her chair, Lord Thynne’s connection to Kate was obvious and every head in the group of guests nodded in understanding. Tonight Sir Anthony would announce the engagement of his niece to the viscount.
And then Edith would make her announcement. She glanced down the table and smiled sweetly at Oliver as her father assisted her with her chair.
Lord Thynne came around and took his place at Edith’s left hand. She smiled across the table at Kate as if there had never been any enmity between them.
Edith relished the soup course, knowing what would come at the end of it, sending an empty bowl back with the footman to the kitchen. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin, then beamed at Papa when he stood and raised his glass.
“Friends, thank you for coming. Three days ago, we celebrated my daughter Dorcas’s presentation at court, and many of you joined us here for the reception afterward. Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Dorcas Buchanan.”
Wishes for health and happiness followed the raising of glasses. Dorcas blushed prettily. Edith stopped herself from a sardonic lift of her eyes heavenward and raised her glass in honor of her sister.
Several people put their glasses down, but picked them up when Sir Anthony raised his again. “Tonight, we have more good news to celebrate. Please join me in congratulating Lord Thynne, whose proposal of marriage to my niece, Miss Katharine Dearing, has been accepted.”
The guests tittered and wished Kate happiness and congratulated Lord Thynne. Edith kept a smile plastered on her face as Kate blushed and feigned embarrassment. Edith knew better. The scheming fortune hunter had been after this since she arrived in England. But that was all about to end.
Papa had just regained his seat when Edith stood, heart racing with anticipation. “Father, may I say something?” She beamed such a smile across the table at her cousin that Kate’s face drained of color. Ah, so she was worried. As well she should be.
“Yes, Edith, of course. I am certain your cousin and Lord Thynne would be happy to hear your best wishes.” From his tone and expression, he obviously had no idea what his niece had been up to mere hours ago right in his own back garden.
Edith raised her glass. “To my cousin Katharine. You came as a poor relation to snare a rich husband, and you performed beyond everyone’s expectations.”
Gasps and whispers followed this statement. Papa stood. “Edith, that is quite—”
“And to Lord Thynne. May you find happiness in your choice of a wife. And may you be ever ignorant of her true nature—or at least possess the ability to turn a blind eye when you find her sneaking out of the house to carry on an affair with the landscape architect you have hired to redesign your gardens.”
Lord Thynne’s chair crashed to the floor. A phalanx of voices swelled around Edith, but she had no attention except for the woman seated across the table from her. Within minutes, the dining room was cleared of everyone save Edith, Kate, Lord Thynne, and Papa.
Lord Thynne paced the length of the room behind Edith, but she could not pull her gaze away from Kate long enough to gauge his reaction. Finally, he stopped to stare into the fireplace behind the chair in which Sir Anthony sat slumped, hand over his eyes.
“I must speak with Katharine alone.”
Kate flinched at the viscount’s soft voice. Papa lowered his hand from his eyes and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He wrapped his hand around Edith’s, squeezed painfully, and dragged her from the room.
“What was the meaning of that?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Edith’s sense of triumph vanished. Never before had her father laid a hand to her in anger. In fact, she had never seen him so angry in her life.
“I am telling the truth, Papa. Kate kissed the garden designer this very morning. And it is not the first time. They sneaked off for an assignation in the garden folly several weeks ago too.”
“How do you know of this?” Sir Anthony shook her again, then snatched his hands back as if only now realizing what he was doing.
If she told her father she’d had one of the maids follow Kate to see if she would do anything that Edith could use to break up the engagement with the viscount, Papa would not be happy with her. “My maid told me. She was . . . out for a walk and saw them go into the folly together, then close the door. She was curious, so she peeked through the window and they were kissing.”
Papa rubbed his hands over his eyes and then through his silver hair. “Why did you not bring this to my attention—privately?”
“I thought nothing of it, then. At the time, Kate and Lord Thynne were not engaged.” And that was true. She’d wanted better ammunition to use against her cousin than one stolen kiss on a rainy afternoon.
The dining room door opened, and Lord Thynne came out into the hallway. Edith’s heart leapt. Surely he would thank her for saving him from marrying a faithless woman and show his gratitude by asking for Edith’s hand in return.
“Sir Anthony, would you please come in for a moment? There is something I need to discuss with Miss Dearing, and I believe you should be present.”
Papa nodded, then turned back to Edith. “Go up to your bedroom. We are not finished with this conversation.”
Edith almost laughed at her father’s severity. Once he witnessed the dissolution of Kate’s engagement, he would be thrilled to come to betrothal terms for Edith to marry the viscount.
In her room, Edith sat at her dressing table and examined herself in the mirror. She imagined herself at a state dinner at Buckingham Palace, answering to the name Lady Thynne. She had never seen the Thynne viscountess’s coronet, but she was certain it would look magnificent in her raven hair. And the gowns she would have . . .
She sighed. No more lowering herself to visiting a dressmaker’s shop. No, the finest modistes patronized by the other ladies of the high aristocracy would clamor for her business. She would finally be able to tell Lady Carmichael exactly what she thought of her. And she would laugh behind her fan at, if not give the cut direct to, whatever woman Oliver ultimately convinced to marry him.
Once she had given Lord Thynne an heir, she might even take Oliver as a lover. If she could find no one better with whom to tryst.
Her bedroom door banged open and Papa marched in, her lady’s maid following demurely behind. The young woman did not look up at Edith even after executing her curtsy.
“Pack up all of your mistress’s belongings,” Sir Anthony directed the maid in a chillingly calm voice.
Edith bounced from her stool, tripping over her petticoats, but quickly regaining her balance. “Papa, what—?”
“You are returning to Wakesdown on the first train to Oxford tomorrow morning.” He turned to leave the room.
She ran across the rug and caught his sleeve. “What? Why?”
He once again took her by the shoulders, though this time he did not shake her. “I have grown tired of your antics, Edith. I overindulged you after your mother’s death, so it is my fault your character is lacking. I spoke with your maid. She informed me—I believe honestly for fear of being turned out with no reference—that she followed your cousin Katharine at your behest and reported back to you on her activities.”
“But if Kate had acted with propriety, there would have been nothing for her to report, would there?”
“That is not the point. Ever since your cousin arrived, you have been nothing but a contentious woman, inhospitable at best, downright vicious at worst. I know you are disappointed that Lord Thynne did not offer for you. I was as well. I invited him here with that very hope. But with the way you have been behaving the last few months, had he asked for your hand, I would have pointed out all the reasons he would not want it.”
Papa leaned his head back, eyes closed as if in great pain. “You will leave for Wakesdown in the morning, where you will have time and solitude to think about what you have done and to pray for forgiveness.”
Tears sprang to Edith’s eyes—tears of rage rather than repentance. “But . . . the season. How will I find a husband if I am not here?”
“God save any man who would wish to court you when you behave thusly toward a member of your own family. You will return to London only at my invitation, once I determine you have had enough time away to change your ways.”
He pulled away from her and left the room, softly closing the door behind him.
Edith threw herself across her bed and pounded her fist into her pillow. How dare her father speak to her so!
She would show him; she would show all of them. Edith Buchanan was not to be crossed.