Distant Mountains, page 8
“Life can be full of difficult choices,” someone said, and Rem jumped as he peered into the shadows.
“Oh, it’s you, Mole. What you doing here still? I thought you’d gone with your flock.” Rem walked toward the shepherd, who leaned against one of the trees, light from his pipe gleaming in the dusk.
“I’m off in the morning. I offered the lass marriage, but she turned me down. Can’t say I blame her. Why would such a pretty wench want to saddle herself with an old man, eh?”
“You did what?”
“Asked her to marry me, I did. But she swore she could never marry anyone but the father of her child. That’s the way a woman’s mind works.” He spat and grunted. “There’s no logic in a woman’s thinking. It’s all a matter of the heart with them.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rem said. “I suppose you know who the father is. 'Tis likely everyone for miles knows and is castigating me for my selfishness, eh?”
“Aye, 'tis common knowledge, at least on this spread.” Mole sighed and took a long drag on his pipe. “Can’t say most of the men blame you for turning the wench down. Most would do the same. No man likes to be saddled with what’s forced on him by circumstances beyond their control.”
“I wish I could at least like her enough to say that we could try to make a reasonable match.”
“Ah well, 'tis no use crying over spilled milk. Wish the wench had considered my offer though.”
Rem wished she had too, but wasn’t about to tell Mole that.
They chatted for a while about the sheep, then Rem returned to the house. The others were gathered in the sitting room. Gracie sat over her sewing, scowling at him, and Bella seemed engrossed in her morose thoughts. At least Tiger seemed to be on his side in the matter, but Rem knew he would always take Bella’s view in this. He was in no position to dictate to Rem, and knew it. After a half hour of the strained atmosphere, Rem decided to retire for the night.
If only he could find a love such as his sister and her husband shared. Sara admitted she cared for him, but knew her father would have an apoplectic fit if she considered marrying a convict, even presuming the law would allow it.
As he bade them goodnight, Bella rose, saying, “I’ll check on Aggie, she can’t shut herself up like this without supper.”
“She wouldn’t answer when I knocked earlier,” Gracie said, putting her sewing aside.
Out in the passage that ran the width of the house from front to back, Bella put a hand on Rem’s arm. “Oh Rem, I hate to see you in this situation,” she said on a sigh. “Heaven knows I would no more wish to push you into marriage than I would wish to send Aggie away, but the poor girl’s so unhappy...”
“She’d be a bloody sight unhappier if we were to wed, and you know it,” he said as they reached his door.
He went into his room, and Bella continued to the back of the house where Agnes had a small room beyond the girls’ bedroom.
Barely had he undone his shirt buttons than he heard his sister’s distressed cry, “She’s not in her room. Agnes is not in her bed.”
Chapter Eight
Agnes sobbed quietly as she walked. Her stride wasn’t hasty nor did she dawdle. Strange how it all seemed so inevitable now. After overhearing the conversation at the table her way became clear as glass. So, the mistress would let her stay on, living in this house with Rem’s child. Living here and seeing him each day, likely married to his dark-haired goddess one day while the mother of his child sat by and watched. Watched him with another woman and died a little every minute, every hour. No, better to end it all now—better this way than living a life in purgatory. So near the man she worshipped, but would never be able to touch again.
The river loomed before her, a dark abyss on this August night. Aggie remembered happier days when the family picnicked here on the banks, her ever watchful the little ones didn’t venture near the water. A sob racked her; how she would miss her babies. Stupid cow! She would know nothing. But perhaps they would miss her and cry for her in the mid of night. Even that thought didn’t deter her. With a purpose born of desperation, she plunged into the murky blackness.
So cold. The water was so cold, and it amazed her for a moment she could feel it as her feet slipped on the mud. She tumbled forward. Like a great dark cloak it closed over her, and her clothes dragged her down. Too late, she began to fight, thrashing at the water with hands grown numb. The strong current swiftly drew her down river. Away from all she had known and loved in this life. Too late for fighting; best let the water take her, away from pain, away from a sadness that had swallowed her soul just as the river was swallowing her.
“Remy.” His name was on her lips as she went below the murky, swirling surface of the water, her arms above her head in a last futile effort to gain the surface. A silent scream ripped from her throat as her chest seemed to explode with its fight for air. Then blackness.
* * *
Rem wiped a fist across his gritty eyes as he drew his horse to a halt and stared ahead. Rain began to batter him, but he felt numb with weariness and guilt. Where the hell could the chit be? Some sixth sense warned him for the last forty-eight hours, while all hands had been set to search for her, that she hadn’t run off and was hiding out while she nursed her sadness and feeling of rejection. They had combed the surrounding countryside for two days. Looked in every conceivable hiding place, questioned every home within miles. Not that there were that many neighboring houses to make inquiries at. The Greenwood’s outbuildings had all been searched. He didn’t have the heart to face Sara; his guilt weighed heavily on him.
Rem wiped a sleeve across his eyes as he turned his horse for home. There was no way she could have made it this far downriver on foot. The men would have to rest before continuing the search further afield.
A shout brought his head up, and he squinted through the downpour. Two men had dismounted where huge river gums draped their branches over the water. That patch was searched yesterday so Rem hadn’t bothered going over the same stretch again.
He headed for them as one of the men began to wave his kerchief and yell at the top of his lungs. Rem knew even before he spotted the lifeless, water-bedraggled body that it was Aggie, and he rubbed a hand over his forehead, cursing vilely.
She floated half in and half out of the water, caught up in the twisted branches that dipped into the water. Her poor body was bloated, her face almost unrecognizable with streaks of mud discoloring it. The strips of weed and flotsam tangled in her hair, made her look like some repulsive gargoyle.
Sweet heaven! What had he done?
Never, if he lived to be a hundred, would he forget the sight of her pathetic body as the men hauled her clear of the tree and laid her gently on the bank. Her feet were bare, her skirt torn to ribbons.
The three of them stood over her, for a moment speechless, and then one of them said, “Gawd, what a state!” Rem jerked his eyes away. Indeed she was.
“Help me lift her onto my horse.” His voice sounded as if it came from far away, not from him.
The forlorn party began the trek back to the house, Rem leading his horse and the two men trailing behind, talking in whispers. But Rem knew what they said; it was common knowledge he had gotten the chit with child and refused to marry her.
Bella must have seen the small procession from afar because long before they reached the edge of the garden she was waiting there, wringing her hands.
“Aggie!” she wailed. Her eyes held condemnation and anger as they turned on Rem.
He didn’t blame her one bit; aside from his guilt he felt utter wretchedness. He brought this on and didn’t know how he would ever live with himself.
* * *
Sara tightened the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin. Anger and another insidious emotion swirled inside her. By the saints, what had Rem done? Servants and laborers talked and gossip traveled in this part of the world much the same as in Sydney and London. When Josie had taken a perverse delight in passing on the latest news, disbelief filled Sara. Aggie, that mousy nursemaid who worked for Mrs. Carstairs had become pregnant. Like a cat savoring the last lick of cream, Josie stood, waiting for Sara to ask the inevitable.
Of course, Sara asked, “And who is the father of this baby?” Shock and disbelief made her nauseous when Josie imparted the terrible news of how Rem supposedly raped the nursemaid and then refused point blank to marry the chit, so bringing about the poor girl’s demise by her own hand.
A shiver ran through Sara at the thought of taking one’s own life. She doubted she could bring herself to do such a deed, no matter the circumstances. Then she put herself in Aggie’s shoes and tried to envisage the humiliation of coupling with a man, conceiving his child, only to then have him reject you like a cheap doxie.
Unable to bring herself to believe it of him, Sara inveigled her mother into taking a ride over to the Carstairs’ property. She still couldn’t believe her mother agreed. Perhaps she was as interested in the goings on as most of the other settlers in these parts. Death was well-known in the colony, but it seldom occurred by one’s own hand. The drama seemed to intrigue the whole population.
One of the laborers drove the wagon while Sara, her mother and Josie, looking smugly satisfied, sat in the back for the bumpy trip. The rain, sorely needed after a lengthy drought, had eased, so they didn’t have that to add to the discomfort of the journey.
“What a pleasure,” Bella Carstairs said as the driver helped them down on their arrival. Her usual smile was absent. In fact, she looked haggard.
When her mother seemed reticent to offer a reason for their visit Sara said, “We heard about the unfortunate death of your nursemaid and came to offer our condolences.”
“Thank you. That’s kind of you. Please come into the sitting room.”
They followed her into the house, along the hallway, and into the comfortable sitting room overlooking the garden. When they were seated, their kitchen woman Gracie served each with tea, and then left quietly.
“It must have been a terrible shock for you all,” Sara said.
“It surely was, and I don’t know how I’ll manage without her. Agnes…” Bella halted and took a deep breath. “Agnes became indispensable to me. We brought her over when we crossed the mountains, you know, and she’s taken care of all my infants from the minute they were born. All except Tim, who was a toddler when she came into our lives.”
They chatted on for a while, the subject ranging from where Bella would find a replacement nursemaid to more mundane things. Sara longed to ask where Rem was and whether he was about the house or nearby so she could speak to him. But how could she simply blurt out the query. It was only as they all prepared to leave that Sara got her chance to speak to Bella alone while the driver helped her mother and Josie into the wagon. “Do you think you could give this to your brother?” Sara passed the note she had written earlier across to Bella. There was no mistaking the look of surprise on Bella’s face as she took the folded sheet of notepaper.
“I suppose you’ve heard the gossip?” Bella turned the note over in her fingers and then put it into a side pocket of her skirt.
“No sense in denying it. Talk travels fast wherever one lives, and faster I daresay in these parts where women are cursed with boredom. Is it true? Was Rem the father of the child Agnes carried?” No point in mincing matters.
For a moment Sara thought Bella wouldn’t answer; her shock at the bluntness of the statement obvious.
After a lengthy pause while she seemed to toss up what to answer, she said, “Best let Rem tell his side of the story. I take it your message,” she tapped the pocket holding the note, “is for a rendezvous with him?”
Sara nodded. “Does that shock you?”
“Of course not. I have eyes, I saw where his feelings veered, and I know the two of you have become good friends.”
More than friends, Sara wanted to say but silently stared at the older woman.
“I’ll make sure he gets your note, don’t worry,” Bella said in a whisper as they went to the wagon where her mother waited impatiently.
* * *
“How could you do such a thing?”
Rem knew the question was bound to come, and try as he might hadn’t been able to come up with a feasible answer.
Sara’s note begged him to wait for her at their usual meeting place. So here he was, alone with her beneath a stand of wattle trees, a fair distance from the boy Dick, who, as always, accompanied her on her rides.
“I have to explain how things were, Sara.”
“So explain. You pledged your love to me; told me you would love no other all your life—and at the first opportunity you lay with a serving wench, a nursemaid!”
“Don’t talk about Aggie that way. All right, so she was just a nursemaid, but she was also a gentle, kind soul, and I’d give anything to have had this all turn out differently. The first thing you must understand is the night I took her I was full of spirits. You’re an innocent maiden and don’t know about the ways of men and their lust. The silly chit thought I’d fall in love with her because she gave herself freely to me like that.”
“And what of the baby?” Sara demanded. “Is it true she carried your child when she drowned herself?”
His large hands covered his face, and she watched as a shudder ran through him. “Yes,” he mumbled. Then louder, “Yes. And the awful thing is even knowing that, I couldn’t bring myself to wed her. I love you, Sara, and I would have made her life hell.”
“Oh, Remy, what are we to do?” Sara wailed, stepping closer and wrapping her arms about him. “Everyone in these parts knows the truth. My father’s been gloating since he heard.”
“No doubt. If I had little chance of winning his favor before, I have no chance now.” He dragged in a breath then let it out on a huge sigh. “But, I’m not about to give you up. No woman will ever match you or take your place in my heart.”
“Nor you mine, Remy. I think I love you.” Sara lowered her gaze as her cheeks went hot. When she glanced up, longing and surprise filled his dark eyes.
“Only think?” he asked huskily, enfolding her in his arms and kissing the tip of her nose.
“Well, I have no knowledge of how I should feel. I miss you when you aren’t near.” Sara gazed up at him and admitted, “I dream of you most nights. Not the sort of dreams a lady should have.” She gave a small self-conscious laugh.
“Sounds like love.” He smiled softly. “I dream about you all the time.” His expression turned serious. A chill crept up Sara’s spine when he kissed her tenderly, and then moved away, turning his back.
“I’m going away, Sara,” he said in a low voice.
“No! Where will you go, and why?” she cried, going around him until she could look fully into his face.
He spread his hands. “I can’t stay here, don’t you see? Bella is absolutely stunned by Aggie’s death. She would never openly blame me, but who else is there to blame, I ask you? The atmosphere in the house is so thick you can feel it. Tiger didn’t say I had to marry the girl, and I know they were both against the idea of forcing us to wed. But this will always be there between us, souring our lives.”
“But what about me?” Sara scrubbed at her cheek where a stray tear dribbled. “What of your declaration of undying love for me?” She felt like screaming at the unfairness of the situation.
“Sara, you must see that I have to go away. There can be no future for us while I’m serving my term. Your father wouldn’t allow it as long as he lives and breathes. I love you more than life itself, but look at me. I’m a bloody con, beholden to Tiger and Bella for the clothes I wear, the food I eat, everything. I love my sister only slightly less than I love you, and I see how she looks at me now. I can’t bear to be the source of her unhappiness.”
“But you’re a convict. You’ll have to go to a new master.” Sara couldn’t seem to focus her thoughts. All she could think was that Rem was going away. And it was likely she would never see him again. Anger replaced her misery. “How can you do this?”
“With a heavy heart, believe me.” He caught her by the shoulders, his eyes grave as he vowed, “I promise you this, I’ll come back when my term is served. When I’m a free man I’ll come back and ask you to marry me. Will you wait for me?”
“That will be years from now. How will I stand it here without you?” Sara flounced away from him. Then a sudden idea hit her. “Let me come with you,” she pleaded.
“Don’t talk daft. I’m a convict, and you’re a well-bred girl of quality. Your father might be the worst kind of bigot, but at least he’s raised you in the style befitting a woman of society.”
“But it could be years till I see you again, Remy.” Tears clogged her throat, and she threw herself into his arms. An idea hit her: he hadn’t married Agnes, even though she carried his child, because he didn’t love her. But he loved her, Sara, and had sworn she would be the only one he would ever love. “Make love to me before you go.” She pressed herself against him.
With a jerk that startled her, he pushed her away from him. “Are you mad?” He looked really angry.
“What’s mad about that?” Now she was confused. “You said you would always love me. Well, I love you, and want to be with you forever. If you must go away, then at least let me have something to remember you by.”
“What, such as a baby inside you? Christ, Sara, don’t you think I’ve ruined enough lives with my stupidity? That would be just about the daftest thing I could possibly do.”
“Daft? How can you say that making love with me could be stupid?” she yelled, pushing at his hands when he tried to pull her into his embrace again.
“I didn’t say that would be stupid. I said it would be the daftest thing I could do. Supposing you got yourself with child, eh? Supposing you ended up in the same mess as Aggie. How do you think that would make me feel?”
