The Convict and the Cattleman (14 page)

Or Millicent would realize it for him. “It seems as though he’s planning to raise Olivia here. Why else is he searching for a nursemaid?”

Millicent gave a quiet sniff and Bridgit knew a scathing remark about the baby was coming.

“When
I’m
Jonah's wife–I assure you it won’t be long, because we
are
moving to England–that bit of misfortune won’t blacken the Andrus name much longer. I’ll send her to an orphan school. Someone else can worry about her.”

How could anyone be so cruel? Bridgit rushed to Olivia’s defense. “He won’t stand for it. She’s his niece.”

“He doesn’t even like her. The whole scandal is an embarrassment. It’s a miracle Charlotte didn’t leave him half a dozen brats to care for. She couldn’t keep her legs closed long enough–”

Anger poured through Bridgit. “That’s enough. If he knew you were talking about his sister and his niece that way, I’m certain he’d tell you to leave. I can’t, but I don’t have to listen.”

“Oh, I forgot. You aren’t any better than her.” Narrowed eyes ran up and down the length of her. “Isn’t that why you’re here? You’re a filthy whore forced to the ends of the Earth to pay for your sins. I understand when a convict woman is caught prostituting, they cut off her hair and add a few more years to her sentence.”

They were just words, but they cut Bridgit like glass. She retrieved the fallen spoon and dashed tears out of her eyes. Millicent probably hoped she’d be angry enough to strike her. Wouldn’t that be quite the story to tell Jonah?

With deliberate movement, she placed each piece of flatware into its designated spot inside the box.

“In two weeks, when my face is turned toward Parramatta and away from Laurie Lark, you and your mum can dance a merry jig on the front porch for all I care. Go ahead and sell the station in your mind. Throw Olivia to the wolves. Jonah will never leave this place nor abandon his kin, but he might send you to England, just to be rid of you.”

She kept her voice level and the satisfaction grew with each fraction that Millicent’s eyes widened. The box lid snapped into place and she put it away. The sound of swishing skirts and angry footsteps told her she’d driven the woman off.

For now. If Millicent was anything like her mother, she’d run straight to Jonah the second he was home and say what an awful employee Bridgit was. The whole ordeal wore on her heart. No one had ever called her a whore out of meanness. It left a sad, heavy weight in the pit of her stomach. Disgusted by Millicent’s attitude, she stepped outside.

Farjana’s head popped up beside a bush. Her face turned toward the house and she beamed when she saw Bridgit.

“Too crowded inside?” she called.

“Far too much.”

Farjana wiped a sheen of sweat off her brow. “Gonna have a lot of canning this year. Probably start after next week. I got a couple bushels of peas done and four rows of tomatoes to harvest tomorrow. Martha will begin washing the jars when she gets back. Can’t trust Millicent to do any of it. Last time she
helped
, every jar went bad.”

“I’ve never canned anything before.” Bridgit squinted at the long rows of vegetables. “Martha doesn’t much want my help in the kitchen. It’s a blessing, really.”

“You can help me pick, if you want. Miss Charlotte loved the gardens. Canning was one of her favorite times of year. Best get a hat though. Your pretty skin ain’t made for this kind of sun. And bring the baby out. Fresh air is good for her.”

Picking up her skirt, she re-entered the house. Noise from the kitchen suggested Millicent was tossing the pots and pans around the room instead of putting them away.

“May the saints give me the patience not to strangle her,” Bridgit whispered. “With people like her around me, I’ll never get a pardon.”

She had no hat of her own. Using Charlotte’s sewing box was one thing, but wearing her hats was another. There were several, including riding hats, bonnets, and a wide-brimmed straw hat she’d surely used for gardening.

The armoire, stuffed with colorful gowns, needed heavy persuasion to shut again before she got the latch locked. Heaven help her if Millicent caught her sorting through Charlotte’s things.

Straw hat shadowing her face, she gathered a drowsy Olivia and located Farjana among the peas. She arranged Olivia’s basket beneath a shady acacia, then spread her skirt between the rows.

The hot work allowed her thoughts to wander. The scratchy material of her dress was made worse by the moisture gathered around her collar and waist. Pulling the collar didn’t help because the material stuck to her skin straightaway when she let go.

“Why do you wear those dresses?” Farjana asked.

Once she’d longed for satin and silk, but now she’d trade a week’s worth of food for simple cotton. “They’re all I have.”

“Mr. Jonah might take more notice if you wore something else. You should use some of Miss Charlotte’s and put some pretty stitching on them like you do for Miss Olivia.”

Bridgit pretended to be shocked. “Why would I want Jonah to notice me?”

Farjana gave her a sly smile. “’Cause you don’t want to go back to Parramatta. Not the gaol, but maybe to get married.”

Bridgit dumped a handful of peas in the basket. “I don’t know about that.”

“You gonna tell me you couldn’t be happy here? Watching Miss Olivia grow up? Having Mr. Jonah’s babies?”

Bridgit turned her face away, but she shrugged. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Then learn how to make him want you.”

Surprised, she stared at Farjana. “How would I do that?”

“You start by touching him. On the shoulder, or brushing back his hair. Sway your hips. Why else have you got hips? Talk to him soft and sweet. Lick your lips when he’s watching. He’ll notice.”

She couldn’t imagine flirting openly. “Farjana, it sounds silly.”

“Then when he notices you, talk to the other jackaroos. You do the same thing ’round them and he’ll go crazy, wanting you. He won’t like it if you show them attention.”

She gaped. “I should think not. He doesn’t want me around the other jackaroos.”

“He don’t want them to steal you away. Trust me. Men ain’t hard to learn.”

Bridgit bit her lower lip. A few light touches and some smiles wouldn’t go amiss. They were lovers, after all, but she wanted no part of flirting with the jackaroos. Not even Phillip, the handsome man who’d helped her. Handsome, yes, but attracting his attention would bring trouble sure as the sun rose and set. She’d had enough trouble to last a lifetime.

“You need something pretty to wear next week,” Farjana continued as if the conversation hadn’t turned to men.

Curiosity made her look up. “Why is that?”

“We’re having company. A big party. Dinners and horse racing and dancing. It’s lots of fun. Lots of work too, but worth the trouble.”

Uncertainty replaced the curiosity. “No one said anything about a party before.”

“Laurie Lark's best tradition. When Mr. Arthur and Mrs. Laura got married there was a big party and every year after. Even after she died, no one wanted to stop because she had such fun bringing the neighbors together. With Miss Charlotte gone, it’s up to us and Martha to handle feeding everyone.”

Bridgit snapped a bean pod off the vine. “I’m sure Martha will welcome any ideas we have with a warm embrace.”

Farjana waved away the concern. “You worry too much. Martha will be busy cooking. She won’t have time to oversee other details. You didn’t know Miss Charlotte, but she loved her flowers, and that’s why I tend the garden. We’re gonna make it look like she ain’t gone. And you’re gonna have the best time you’ve had since you got here.”

* * * *

Millicent lingered far longer than Martha did, talking with Jonah. Bridgit sat in the parlor, sewing and waiting for the second she could breathe again without fear of Millicent’s wrath. When the buggy rolled out of the yard, she expected Jonah to come reprimand her for speaking sharply to his cook’s daughter.

His heavy footfalls approached the parlor and his form filled the doorway.

She put the sewing aside.

“Mind if I join you?” A soft smile played on his lips.

“Of course not. It’s your parlor.”

He sat, crossing one ankle over his knee. Dark eyes roved over her. He’d dressed for dinner, replacing his dusty work clothes with a clean white shirt and tan moleskin breeches that hugged his legs. No one would guess he’d spent the day chasing cattle.

His smile remained fixed. She feared she’d blush under his scrutiny, so she busied herself undoing a crooked stitch.

“Did you and Millicent get along?”

Bridgit grimaced. “She believes I’m going to steal her birthright.”

“Which is?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.

“You.”

She considered telling him Millicent’s plans to sell Laurie Lark and toss Olivia out. But if the other woman hadn’t brought up the miserable conversation between them, there was no reason she should reveal it.

“I was afraid you’d say that.” He pushed his hand through his hair, a clear indication he was unhappy. The dark locks stood at odd angles. She imagined smoothing the soft strands.

He sighed. “I suppose I’ve got to tell them I don’t plan to marry her.”

Bridgit retrieved the scissors and hid a smile. “Martha will poison your supper.”

“She’s always been loyal. When my parents were married, she took the job as cook even though she was younger than my mother. They came here together. My mother, who was titled and bound to inherit an English estate, and her maid, little Martha.”

His gaze settled on the portrait above the hearth.

In her serge dress and scuffed boots with the worn soles, Bridgit didn’t compare to a well-bred lady from England. The slight smile his mother wore looked condescending instead of gracious.

She returned to her sewing. “They were a handsome couple.”

“You’d never know it was an arranged marriage. Not by looking at them. They truly loved each other. Father was devastated when she died. He removed the painting because he couldn’t bear the sight of it. Charlotte hung it again after he passed on.”

“That’s what this party is about, isn’t it? Celebrating the time of year your parents married.”

His gaze shifted from the painting. “I suppose. We’ve been hosting for years. I never think much about it.”

“You’re fortunate to have others who are. Farjana said she’ll take care of decorating. Of course, I’m available to care for the less pleasant details. I expect Martha will have me washing dishes until the end of the month.” She tied off the thread on the stitching.

“Clean-up is the least of my worries. I’ll be glad when it’s over.” His eyes were on Olivia’s basket.

She slept, unaware of her uncle’s distress.

Bridgit’s heart fluttered with pity. “You can’t hide her forever.”

“She’ll grow up with people talking about her. How will she ever find a decent husband? I’ve already heard ugly rumors about her mother. Even with the influence my name can give her, it’s going to be difficult.”

The concern on his face was heart-wrenching. “I don’t think she has anything to worry about. You won’t let her be hurt.”

Deep lines formed on his forehead. “Somehow I let her mother get hurt. I know about cattle, not babies who’ll grow into headstrong women.”

“If you think it’ll help matters, I’ll keep her out of sight as much as possible.”

His relief was visible. The tension went out of his shoulders and creases in his forehead disappeared. “Thank you. You have no idea how much it means that you see past the mistakes her parents made.”

Oh, Jonah. She’s not a mistake. Not anymore than my desire for you.
“She deserves the same chance at happiness everyone else does.”

“Are you happy?”

“Aye.” It wasn’t a lie, although she was sad for what he believed Olivia’s future held. Living at Laurie Lark was a wonderful opportunity. For a short time, she could forget she had nowhere to go. For a few hours, she could pretend this was her home, her family, and the broken dreams she’d pushed aside were whole again.

13