A Wicked Deception (22 page)

She felt a sudden urge to break the silence
. “When do you think the store will deliver everything?”

“I don’t know
, sometime in the afternoon could mean anything. This place frightens me. How are we going to survive when the snow comes? We’ll be isolated. If only Peter would hurry back.”

Melanie had a horrible suspicion he wouldn’t be back. He’d dumped them here and
believed his duty was done.
We have to be organized, stockpile wood and food and make sure the cottage is storm proof. It’s all we can do.
Inwardly she steeled herself, knowing she would have to be the strong one, or they were doomed. She had to survive, would fight to survive for the baby’s sake.

Back at the cottage they set to work.
After about an hour of scrubbing, Melanie climbed to her feet. Pain shot down her legs from kneeling on the hard floor. The place would never amount to anything much, no matter what they did, but thank goodness it appeared solid enough to weather even the most vicious of storms. Having withstood nature’s fury for a couple of hundred years, there was no reason to suspect it wouldn’t still be standing in another hundred years.

Ann finished
washing the filthy windows and immediately the cottage became almost cheerful. If any of the calico remained after making the covers for their straw mattresses, they could sew curtains. Ann was a skilled needlewoman, and if she trimmed the curtains with lace or perhaps some brightly colored embroidery, it would improve both the dinginess and their spirits a hundredfold.

“Keep busy and think positively, that’s what we have to do.” Melanie rubbed her aching lower back.

She had lit the fire and the water in the kettle simmered, ready for when their supplies arrived. Returning from chopping more wood, she discovered that the man from the store had been. She planned to gather and chop a small amount of wood each day, because her axe skills were not great, and she quickly tired. Fortunately, the fire place was large, so many of the fallen logs didn’t need to be cut up. Twigs and small branches suitable for kindling carpeted the forest floor.

Dropping an armful of wood on to the hearth, she gratefully accepted the cup of tea Ann had made. “This is good, even without milk.” The sweetened black tea slid like melted honey down her throat.

“Eddie, the boy who delivered the order, lives a couple of miles away,” Ann told her. “He said he might be able to get us a milking cow and a few chickens.”

“We can’t afford to pay much.” Melanie gratefully accepted a second mug of tea.

“I told him that. His father has grazed his stock here for some years, and the boy thinks he would agree to loan us a cow and give us a few chickens in return for letting the cattle stay here.”

“Sounds good, but this place is covered
with trees.”

“Apparently there are some cleared paddocks be
yond the forest – they’ve been using them for years.”

“Did you agree?”

“Yes.” Ann made a face. “I don’t like drinking black tea.”

Melanie laughed. “Black tea? It’s the eggs I’m thinking about. We might be able to get meat from the
farmer every now and again too. Wouldn’t a leg of roast lamb be nice?” Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

“
There are rabbits here too, I saw a couple of them as I gathered the wood. We could fish in the stream, maybe plant a few vegetables. There are probably wild mushrooms in season, and there’s sure to be blackberries, too.” She tried to sound strong and confident. “Ann, we have to be self sufficient.”

They set to work with renewed energy. Melanie helped Ann sew the calico on three sides so they could stuff it with straw. The finished mattresses
though lumpy would be a vast improvement on bare boards.

T
hey sat down for a rest and Melanie said. “To save our lamp oil we can make what we call in Australia slush lamps.”

“Slush lamps?”

“Yes. You half fill a tin with clay then top it up with mutton fat. A piece of worsted material wrapped around a stick forms a wick. Smelly and smoky, but they do throw out a reasonable light. I can make soap, too.” Melanie knew all about soap and candle making. She had learned the hard way under the eagle eye of Mrs. Prince at Guilford Lodge, in what seemed another life time. In fact, she still had the scars to prove it. Even after all this time a pink puckered scar remained near her elbow.

She hadn’t let Priscilla or fate beat her then. Had left
Guilford Lodge unbowed and unbroken. Living here she could do the same. She had to.

Chapter
Eleven

Winter
arrived with a sudden vicious chill. Last night a bitter wind howled and screeched all night, driving rain against the window panes so hard Melanie feared they might shatter. That must have been the thudding sounds that had been so frightening. Heavy and awkward with her pregnancy now, she had difficulty doing anything, but doggedly chopped the wood for the fire and milked the cow, because Ann was still trying to conquer her fear of animals.

Melanie
surveyed her callused hands; her feet were covered with painful, itchy chilblains. Some days her back ached so badly she felt like someone was cutting her in half with a rusty saw.

She could no longer sit up and get out of bed in her usual manner, her belly was too swollen.
Maneuvering herself to the edge of the bed, she swung her legs out on to the floor and used her hands to push herself upright. At night she sat on the bed and got Ann to lift up her legs and swing her around.

How much longer can we survive like this?
If she didn’t recover from the birth quickly they would be in dire straits.

A crashing thud interrupted her
morbid thoughts. Shivering, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and waddled into Ann’s room. Glancing out the window, she saw an enormous tree branch lying in the yard. Thank goodness it hadn’t landed on any of their buildings. It was snowing heavily. She had never experienced snow like this. Enormous flakes formed a blizzard so thick she couldn’t even see the barn.

Ann coughed
continuously, a nagging, barking sound that had increased in severity over the last few days. She had lost weight, her once plump cheeks pale and gaunt.

“It’s snowing.”

“Is it?” Ann sounded as if she didn’t care. If her condition deteriorated she would have to see a doctor otherwise she might end up with consumption.

Melanie patted her friend’s wasted hand,
“You stay in bed, I’ll make the tea and we’ll have porridge today.”

“I’m sorry
.” Ann gave a weak smile. “I should be waiting on you, not the other way around.”

“You can’t help being ill.
”

“If only Peter would come back.”

“Be realistic. He isn’t coming back. Once I’ve had the baby and regained my strength, we’ll go to France to your aunt’s place.”

“I can’t believe my own brother would do anything so
contemptible as to leave us in such pernicious circumstances.”

“Well.” Melanie
tried for a laugh, wondering how she could. “Why don’t you take up Farmer Wolstencroft’s offer – to be his wedded wife?

Ann grimaced. “No thank you. Imagine the gall of the man to front up here with the cow and half a dozen miserable chickens as arranged with his son, question me about my marital status then offer marriage.”

“He obviously didn’t want me because I was with child. Thank goodness. The man is an utter slob. He hadn’t shaved in days and he stunk.” Melanie shuddered. “Did you notice his blackened teeth?”

“Stop it
! You’re making me feel bilious.” Ann eased herself out of the bed and slipped on a warm dressing gown, a garment Melanie did not possess.

After breakfast she borrowed Ann’s coat and boots, wrapped a
woolen scarf around her neck, and pulled on her gloves and a knitted hat, before venturing outside.

She plodded through the snow to the stable where their cow resided for the winter.
Not much of a cow, she gorged herself on their hay, but only managed half a bucket of milk twice a day.

They had found an old butter churn, but with careful use, they made some quite palatable butter. Keeping things fresh with all this snow wouldn’t be a problem she mused as she cornered the cow and dragged up the milking stool. Removing her gloves, she rested her hands on the
beast’s warm sides before starting milking. Even the teats felt warm.

“Now, you give us a good lot of milk or else
….” she threatened. “We want to make butter.”

The cow swished her tail in Melanie’s face, gave a snorting moo, and continued chewing her cud.

“You mean thing. Not even half a bucket of milk. I ought to cut your hay rations.”

She traipsed back to the cottage, making sure not to spill a drop of the precious liquid. Snowflakes driven by the wind slapped her face.
This nasty white stuff blanketed the ground and trees, icicles hung from the cottage eaves. Her nose stung, her eyes watered, and a numbing chill froze her feet and legs. She had never endured such cold. After breakfast she would empty the bucket they now used as a toilet, rather than face the freezing journey to the outhouse.

Ann had already made the tea and porridge, and Melanie
wolfed it down. It warmed her up and eased her hunger. Until now they ate reasonably well. An excellent markswoman, Ann did not seem to have any trouble bringing down a wild deer or a rabbit. They had salted some of the meat and hopefully it would last until spring. If it didn’t they would have to go without. Unbelievable that no one except Farmer Wolstencroft on the one occasion, and his son Eddie, on a few occasions when he delivered their supplies, paid them a visit.

Had the village people somehow discovered her true marital state? Even the church hadn’t bothered about them. She had always felt that there was something strange, almost sinister about the village and its people. She didn’t want sympathy, but a visit now and again for two young women who lived alone
would be welcome. Was that too much to expect? Obviously Christian charity was in scant supply around here.

They stockpiled flour, sugar, tea and salt and had an emergency supply of lamp oil. Eddie told them the heavy snow usually lasted for a couple of months. Her baby was due in December
, and while a white Christmas baby would be nice, under the circumstances the sooner she gave birth and regained her strength the better. How much longer would Ann’s jewelry last? They had sold all the antique books. After the baby’s birth she would have to try to obtain some kind of employment, but what?

“What’s wrong?” Ann paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “You’ve gone so white.”

“I’m wondering how long your mother’s jewelry will last.”

“I’ve still got a few pieces left. I’m prepared to
sell everything but not my ruby engagement ring or my wedding ring.” Her lips trembled. “They’re all I’ve got left of Geoffrey.”

“I know,
and I wouldn’t expect you to. I’ve been thinking that some of those gowns Michael bought me could be worth money.”

“Not in this village they wouldn’t. We
would have to travel to one of the larger market towns. Maybe Leeds. London would be best, but we can’t afford to go there. We have to keep enough money to get to France.”

“We
’d have to travel down to London to get the boat, wouldn’t we?”

“Yes
, that’s right.”

“I’ll try and sell the gowns then, if we can hold out for that long.”

***

O
ne morning a few days before Christmas, Melanie awoke with the most shocking pains. She felt as if her insides were being ripped apart. She clenched her teeth trying to stop the screams rising up in her throat. Rain had fallen continually for the last two days, the snow and ice had turned into oozing slush that dragged her down with every step she took. Had she strained herself yesterday? Expended so much energy it brought on labor?

She was going to die.

No human could survive this kind of torture.

“Ann! Ann! Help me.” She hadn’t meant to scream out, but couldn’t stop herself.

Ann dashed into the kitchen where they had moved Melanie’s bed a week ago. “What’s wrong? Is the baby coming?”

“Yes. Yes. I think so
. The pain is terrible.” She flopped back on the pillow. “Will I die?”

“No, of course not
, women have been giving birth since Adam and Eve.”

Melanie
gritted her teeth, trying not to cry and scream too much. Ann looked as frightened as she felt. Weeks ago they had washed some sacking to cover the mattress for this occasion so Ann raced off to get it.

She returned, and Melanie screamed in agony as her friend
maneuvered the bags under her.

“Raise your legs and lift your bottom up so I can put this clean sheet under you.”

Melanie screamed with the effort of following Ann’s instructions.

“It won’t be so rough against your skin.
” Ann assured. “I’ve got the kettle on, and I’ve stoked up the fire, so you won’t get cold.”

Everything
they would need for the birth and afterwards was close at hand. Ann had been meticulous in organizing this, so she wouldn’t have to leave Melanie alone for any space of time.

Fear and pain drove
Melanie to the brink of sanity. How much longer could she endure this? She pulled her legs up, grasping her knees to try and ease the pain.

Ann stood at the end of the bed.
“I think it’s coming.”

With a sudden gush,
that didn’t give her time to do anything, Melanie wet the bed.

“Your waters have broken.” Ann soaked up the
dampness. “It shouldn’t be long now.”

Hours
passed, Melanie didn’t know how long, she just wanted her suffering to end. Death would be a blessed release from this. “Oh God, please help me.”

The urge to push became so great she could do nothing but open her legs, grab hold of her knees again and push.

“It’s coming,” Ann exclaimed. “The head is crowning.”

Thank goodness Ann had gone to an old gypsy woman, who for a couple of pennies had instructed her on delivering a baby.

“Push again. As hard as you can.”

Melanie pushed with all her might, gasping and groaning with effort. Perspiration poured down her face, soaked into her nightgown. Her chest was so constricted she couldn’t breathe properly. The pain was excruciating, like a red hot knife paring her apart.

A sudden whoosh and the pain was gone. The loud wailing cry of a baby filled the room.

“It’s a girl.” Ann cut the umbilical cord, tied it up
, wrapped the baby in a towel and handed her to Melanie.

“She’s beautiful.” Melanie gazed into the pink wrinkled face and fell in love. “Thank you
. I’ll never forget what you did for me and little Ann Roberta.”

Ann’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m
honored that you named her after me. But Roberta?”

“For Robbie.”
Melanie choked back the sobs. If Robbie hadn’t been involved in the Eureka Stockade rebellion, she would be home in Ballarat. This baby would have been his. Tears burned her eyes but she blinked them back. This little girl would ease the pain of losing him. Give her someone to love again. “No matter what I have to do, my darling, you’ll never want for anything,” Melanie whispered. “I’d make a pact with the foulest creature on earth if I had to. No sacrifice would be too great.”

“You lost a lot of blood, but the bleeding seems to be easing up,” Ann s
oothed.

“If something happens to me
, you swore on Geoffrey’s grave to look after little Ann for me.”

“Nothing will happen. Everything went exactly as the old gypsy predicted.
But she’d always be safe with me, Melanie. I’d love her as my own. In fact,” Ann gave a sad little smile. “I feel as if, she is sort of mine.”

“Little Ann,” Melanie crooned
. “You’re a lucky girl, with two mothers to love you.”

“Put her on your breast,” Ann instructed
, her voice wavering with emotion. “Let her suckle, that’s what the gypsy said to do. Helps your milk come in.”

Melanie eased the little rosebud mouth on to her nipple.
The pain and fear of moments ago was worth it once she felt the baby’s first sucking motion.

For the next few days Melanie rested and fed the baby. Ann did everything. Morning and night she trudged out to the barn and milked the cow. She got even less milk out of the cantankerous creature than Melanie had. Returning to the cottage, rain drops glistened on her hair, her face and lips had turned blue with cold. Her hacking cough became so bad sometimes she would be doubled over, gasping for breath, yet she never once complained. Unstintingly
she gave of herself even though she was so ill.

I have to get out of bed and help her
,
Melanie fretted.
It’s too soon, but I can’t let her struggle on like this.

Continually going out into the ferocious cold
worsened Ann’s condition. An idea had been germinating in her mind over the last few days. Ann’s bedroom had direct access to the verandah, which they had piled up with firewood, so they only needed to plod through the snow and slush to milk the cow.

The weather worsened, as did Ann’s cough. Until she was well enough to get to the barn, they had only one option. Ann
would move in with her and the baby, and let the cow have her room.