India sat up and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Through her frosty bedroom window the cold grey light hovered on the horizon. Out beyond the paddocks the tussock grasses would be pearled with ice and the water birds would be stirring. That she’d slept for so long beggared belief.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and examined her pale feet. At some stage last night she must have removed her boots and her riding habit because she wore only her chemise. No wonder she was cold. She walked to the window and rubbed the heel of her hand across the chilly glass and peered down into the courtyard. Today she’d have to face Papa and give a detailed account of her foolishness, then tell Jim to leave.
What a mess she’d made. To be so gullible. If only—there could be no if-onlys. She would never be able to believe anything Jim might tell her, never be able to look at him without remembering the way she’d thrown herself at him. A poor, lonely girl falling at the feet of the first man who’d paid her more than a passing glance. No. That wasn’t true. Cecil, plenty of men in Sydney had paid attention to her. None had made her blood sing or her heart pound like Jim.
Somewhere downstairs a door banged and the first sounds of morning broke the night’s silence. She pulled on yesterday’s clothes and dragged on her riding boots then tiptoed into the passageway, down the stairs and out to the kitchen. Searching for tea and the home truths Peggy would deliver.
‘It was a right proper shindig, Peggy.’ Fred’s outraged tone filtered down the walkway. ‘They took him in a cart. Wouldn’t let him take that horse of his. Not either of them. Made him climb up in the back of the cart. All trussed up like a chicken, he was. Cuffed and chained.’
She pushed the door open. ‘Peggy?’
‘Come and sit down, love. There’s something you need to know.’
Fred shuffled his feet then thought better of it and sped off out across the courtyard without a backward glance.
‘I don’t want to sit down.’ She held her hands out to the stove searching for warmth, unable to meet Peggy’s prying eyes.
‘Then I’ll make a pot of tea.’
‘I’m not sure I want tea, either.’ She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, and the prospect of even tea made her stomach turn. How long since she’d been in Sydney? When she still believed the only battle she fought was acceptance for the man she’d absurdly thought she loved.
‘Yes, you do.’ Peggy pulled one of the chairs closer to the range. ‘Sit here and put your feet up. It’ll warm the cockles of your heart.’
‘Peggy, just tell me. What was Fred talking about? It’s Jim, isn’t it?’
‘It’s Jim. Your father called in the constabulary. They took him away last night, to the Maitland lock-up.’
‘Whatever for?’ Her voice cracked. ‘What has he done—you don’t go to gaol for using an assumed name. Half of Australia would be behind bars if that was the case.’
‘It’s a bit more than that, love. Here.’
The cup rattled in the saucer as she took it. She put it down on the top of the range and picked up the cup alone, holding it close and letting the fragrant steam warm her cold face.
Peggy cleared her throat.
‘Come on, Peggy. Spit it out.’
‘Your father’s had him taken into custody for horse thieving.’
‘Horse theft!’ How could he do that? The only thing Jim had stolen was her heart, not any of the horses. ‘When? When did this happen?’
‘Last night. Your father locked himself in that library of his and the next thing anyone knew he’d got that jumped-up pompous old fool Tom Bludge from the village with him. They talked for a while then he sent him off. We didn’t know nothing until Constable Coxcomb turned up with his band of merry men.’
‘Why didn’t someone tell me?’ All the while she’d languished in her bedroom like a grieving maiden and slept the night away. ‘Where was Violet?’
‘It was Violet what found out.’
India slammed down the teacup. Papa must have planned this from the outset. She cast her mind back to their trip from Sydney. When had he had the opportunity? She pushed open the door.
‘And where do you think you’re going?’
‘I’m going to talk to Papa and find out what he thinks he’s doing. He can’t have someone arrested because he doesn’t like his name. Jim hasn’t committed theft. I’d stake my life on it.’
‘Just you wait a minute and do a bit of thinking. First and foremost it’s too early. Your father’s still abed and the last thing you want to do is go waking him, and besides, I’m not sure there’s much you can do about it.’
‘Jim’s innocent.’ No matter how wrong she’d been about Jim, he didn’t deserve this. He might not have told the truth about who he was or why he’d come to Helligen, but theft? She was more guilty of gullibility than he was of thieving. Why had she encouraged him? Why had she let him into their lives? ‘It’s my fault.’
‘Not really. He didn’t have to answer the advertisement, didn’t have to take the job. Didn’t have to bring Goodfellow back here, for that matter. He walked straight into a trap if you ask me. Didn’t think about the consequences.’ Peggy shot her a look, enough to say Jim wasn’t the only one who hadn’t thought of the consequences. ‘His father stole Goodfellow, no ifs or buts about that, and now he owns the animal.’
‘He’s no horse thief. His father perhaps, but not Jim.’
‘And it’s a hanging offence.’
‘Peggy, this is impossible. I have to talk to Papa. Explain that it was entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have been so foolish as to place that advertisement in the newspaper.’ Or to fall in love with the man. She wasn’t about to admit that to Peggy, or anyone else.