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  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  Australian Odyssey

  Copyright © 2016 by Pauline Saull

  Digital Release: January 2016

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Australian Odyssey by Pauline Saull

  Ella Bickerstaff is widowed on the way to Australia in the late 1800s. Finding a stash of money on her husband, she decides to stay in the new country and invest her findings in a fruit orchard. Determined that she’ll never again be tied in a loveless marriage, on meeting her charismatic neighbor, the owner of Glen Ayre Farm, Lucas Helm, her willpower is severely tested. Lucas, sent to Australia on a false charge of attempted rape, has his eyes on Ella’s orchard for its never-ending water supply, which would be a boon to his ranch, and he sets out to woo Widow Bickerstaff. Ella, happy with her new life, nevertheless finds herself drawn to Lucas.

  Dedication

  For John.

  Chapter One

  The Indian Ocean, 1888

  Under a clear warm sky, Ella watched the heavy board holding her husband’s body being lifted onto the rail of the ship, Venture. The four sailors tilted it slowly, and Thomas Bickerstaff’s shrouded, heavily weighted form slid off. Seconds later the splash could be heard as it dropped into the deep blue Indian Ocean. A soft sigh escaped Ella.

  She bowed her head in respect. Thomas had been a good man in many ways.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” Reverend Harris stood by her side. He shook his head. “A terrible shock for you, I’m sure. The poor man must have been ill for some time without knowing it. Thankfully his humble soul is at rest now.”

  “Indeed. Though I am relieved his suffering was over quickly. He would have hated to be a burden,” Ella murmured.

  Captain Moreland approached, cap in hand. “My condolences, Mrs. Bickerstaff, on what is a very sad day.” He cleared his throat. “I take it you will be returning to England with us? After docking we shall be in Port Adelaide for only ten days, before beginning the journey home.”

  “I haven’t had time to consider my plans yet, Captain. You see, it was my husband’s fervent wish that we make a new life in Australia. I see it as my duty to his memory to carry out that wish. So, who knows, I may decide to stay.”

  The chaplain and captain exchanged glances.

  “Hrumph.” Captain Moreland politely covered his mouth before saying, “Please don’t take this remark as impertinent, but the chaplain and I know Australia quite well, Mrs. Bickerstaff.” He sighed, adding, “While I regret the long distance you’ve traveled, I’m sorry to say we feel it is not the place for a young widow alone, especially not one so… What I mean is…”

  Ella turned her steady gaze on him, noting the color rushing to his face.

  “What I am trying to convey to you, Mrs. Bickerstaff, is that, even if you are only in the country for a short stay, you must take care.” He twisted his cap around. “There are men here with scant regard for women. I’d beg you to rethink.”

  Ella nodded. “I will consider your wise words carefully, Captain. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it has been a most tiring day.”

  Both men inclined their heads.

  Ella walked along the deck of the Venture to her cabin with a straight back, which was difficult owing to the heavy money bag swinging against her legs beneath the wide gatherings of her skirt.

  Once inside the cabin, drawing the curtain across the porthole, Ella threw off her black cloak and pulled up her skirt to untie the ribbons of the bag from around her waist. She dropped it onto the bed she had shared with her husband on the long voyage.

  How strange it felt. After seven years, she was alone. Had the captain and curate been shocked, she wondered, by her lack of hysteria over Thomas’ passing? Did they see her as a hard-hearted woman with no feeling at all for her husband’s sad demise?

  Ella thought they probably did, for it was true, she had not shed the tears of a beloved wife for a lost husband. Rather, she had wept for the loss of a man she had become used to, which was the kindest, truest way of expressing her feelings for Thomas.

  She sat on the bed and laid out the notes and sovereigns, recounting them idly for she well knew how much there was. But it was a pleasing exercise nevertheless, one which allowed her mind to wander back once more over the extraordinary events which had brought her to the place she was today.

  »»•««

  Seven years previously, along with her anxious mother, Ella had waited for the dreaded knock on the door of their tied cottage in Hampshire.

  “What will we do, Ella?” Wringing her hands, her poor mother’s lined face looked as though it had aged ten years in the few short weeks since the death of Ella’s father. “We have nowhere to go.”

  Ella bit her lip. Privately, she thought they’d be flung out like a bag of old rags. Wasn’t that the way with a couple of useless women who couldn’t perform heavy menial tasks on the farm? But she couldn’t let her mother know this.

  “Try not to worry too much, Mother dear. The owner may allow us time to make arrangements.”

  “I doubt that! These cottages mean nothing without a worker in them, so don’t fool yourself into thinking he’ll take pity on us. That type of man only sees money, which we certainly can’t provide. Oh, where will we go? I fear for you, my dear child. Sometimes I wish you weren’t quite so pretty—if we have to go to the city, God knows what could happen to you.”

  Ella harbored no such fears. Aware of the effect her looks had on men from a young age, she’d been well able to deal with the many unwelcome advances which came her way. The ugly head stockman on the farm, forever leering after her, had more than once tried to push her down in the barn. The last time, after a particularly hard kick to his groin which left him hopping and swearing, she didn’t think he’d try again.

  The obnoxious squire from Haldon Hall was another. Coming across Ella in the village one day, he had stopped, all good manners and charm, offering her work as a parlor maid at the hall. Ella accepted, sure in her mind that a member of the gentry would never make advances to a lowly maid.

  How wrong she was.

  Not an hour after she’d started work on organizing the distribution of clean bed sheets, he’d followed her into the empty laundry, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “Sir?” she’d said as his greedy gaze had swept over her.

  He licked his lips. “You,” he said. “Come here.” Without further word he pushed her against the table, attempting to lift her skirts. Ella struggled, tried to scream, but he put a hand over her mouth, his other sliding down her thick skirt. She kicked out wild with anger.

  “That’s it, go on,” he said hoarsely. “I like ’em rough with a bit of spirit.”

  Whereupon Ella had dug her sharp young teeth so hard into his
hand she tasted blood. Yelping and cursing, he let go and she ran, flinging open the front door, fleeing down the long driveway, laughing out loud, exhilarated with the spirit of youth and her escape. Men were such stupid fools. Apart from her dear departed father, in her opinion, there wasn’t a decent one out there.

  »»•««

  On the day of the farm owner’s proposed visit, Ella’s mother, dressed in black and still in mourning, sat by Ella, also respectful in her best dark dress.

  “My dear girl,” her mother murmured, “a dark dress is supposed to be discreet. On you it just makes your skin look even more luminous!”

  Ella smiled. “Then let’s hope it makes a good impression.” On hearing the sound of horses’ hooves, she rose to glance out of the window. An impressive carriage pulled by two black horses rolled down the rutted track to the cottage. “He’s here, Mother,” she said, moving to the shabby sofa where she sat, arranged her skirts, and placed her hands in her lap.

  The door knocker sounded and Ella’s mother rose to answer it. Thomas Bickerstaff, tall hat in his hand, stood there.

  “Please come in, sir.” She held the door back and he entered.

  “Now I shall get straight to the point, we have the matter of this cottage to discuss… Ah!” His eyes alighted on Ella. “And who is this delightful creature?”

  “My only daughter, Ella, sir.”

  Ella sat demurely, eyes downcast, watching him pace to and fro from beneath her lashes. He stopped before her to run a hand over her hair. Ella noted the expensive leather boots, the fine woolen trousers.

  “My dear girl,” Thomas murmured thoughtfully. “You are a true beauty! Such black hair, creamy skin, and…lift your head.” Ella did so. “Amazing eyes…they are the color of amber.”

  Ella couldn’t, in all truth, find anything to like about him. His awful breath and flabby pock-marked face were not the type of features she’d wished for in the man of her dreams, the one she hoped to meet and marry one day. But a quick thinking girl, she saw in this besotted older man the chance of a likely way out of their present predicament. Her mother’s welfare was paramount to her, so her own misgivings were put to one side.

  Thomas turned to her mother. “How old?”

  Ella answered. “I am eighteen, sir.”

  “Ha! And spirited too. I like that. Well, now. I am a bachelor and somewhat older. Fifty-one to be exact, though many say I look so much younger.” With no response from either woman he continued. “And I am rich. As well as owning this farm, I have a large chemist shop in London.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “A question for you, Ella. How would you like to be my wife, live with me in London where you could have everything your heart desires?”

  Ella heard her mother gasp as she flopped beside her on the sofa, and reached out to pat her arm. She smiled. “On condition, sir, that you draw up a contract which would ensure my mother was able to remain in this cottage for the remainder of her days, I think I will agree.”

  “Of course, my pretty Ella, and that is a feasible enough request.” Thomas’ shrewd eyes narrowed. “Though you understand, I must insist on one clause in the contract.”

  “Which is?”

  “That it only remains valid for as long as we are married.”

  Ella nodded.

  “Then I shall bid you farewell and return later today with a legal contract. Goodbye, Ella.” The door closed behind him and Ella rose, went to the window, and watched the carriage roll down the track.

  “Oh, Ella, my love,” her mother wailed. “I fear for you.”

  “Well, please don’t, Mother. There was no other way.”

  As promised, Thomas returned later that day and they both signed the document. Ella’s mother stood watching, wringing her hands.

  Thomas arranged for the marriage to take place with haste, and in the carriage, driving to his London home after the ceremony, Ella had to resist the urge to remove the hand squeezing her knee, though she would endure worse over the next seven years.

  On one of her many visits back to the farm cottage her mother asked, “Ella…you’re losing weight. Are you so unhappy?”

  Ella shrugged. “I have never pretended to love Thomas, and he certainly does not love me! I’ve learned to tolerate what I allowed myself to become, nothing more than an object to be drooled over. Frequently brought out to be shown off to his friends, I watch their watery eyes rolling with envy, a sure guarantee of exciting Thomas’ lust.” Ella turned away from the horror on her mother’s face. “Fear not. I bear it stoically.”

  Her mother’s hand fluttered to her throat. “This is not what I wanted for you, my dear daughter.”

  “Do not worry yourself about me. I am strong.” Ella patted her hand.

  If at times, when things became so bad she longed to fling herself into her mother’s arms and cry for her sacrificed youth—how she wished with all her heart that she could be free of the marriage!—then she would remember the clause Thomas had insisted upon and hold her tears…and her tongue.

  “There are, in this marital arrangement, two consolations for me,” Ella told her mother. “Beside you now having a secure home, Thomas, anxious to keep an eye on what he calls ‘his luscious prize,’ has me work alongside him in his chemist shop. I watch, learn, and take copious notes. I’m handling herbs and tinctures never before heard of, and my hoard of information is growing daily.”

  What she omitted to add, was that in dusty drawers she had stumbled on age-old mixes her husband had no idea about, but which she put to good personal use.

  Over dinner one evening, Thomas questioned yet again why she was not yet with child.

  Ella raised her amber eyes, willed a tear or two to glisten there. “I am not sure, husband.”

  “Mm.” Thomas’ own eyes had grown colder of late when the question had been raised, and Ella felt sure she knew the reason why. At a social gathering, overhearing gossip related to herself had intrigued her.

  “I hear,” one woman whispered to her companion, “that Bickerstaff’s latest mistress is jealous. She has been putting ideas into his head regarding the lack of an heir, lately insisting he leave such a useless barren wife. But she is such a beauty! One has to wonder…”

  The companion’s fan could be heard rattling. “Well, who can blame her if she avoids the marriage bed? I should have to put a pillowcase over the man’s head!”

  Ella looked at Thomas at the other end of the table, and recalling the conversation, covered her mouth to hide a smile. “You are not sure?” Thomas said slyly. “Well, wife I am beginning to have second thoughts about having you working alongside me, handling such strong potions. Maybe that is the reason for your inability to bear children. ”

  Ella saw him watching for her reaction and felt a moment’s panic at the thought of being barred from the shop, having to spend empty days in the mausoleum of a house, and smiled sweetly. “When the time is right, husband, it will happen. Please, may I have another glass of wine?”

  Ella held out her glass, avoiding his probing eyes, knowing what was coming next. He filled her glass then, after carefully placing the decanter on the table.

  “Come, wife. Sit on my knee a while.” He pushed his chair from the table, began unbuttoning his trousers. “It may be conducive to our goal.”

  Ella acquiesced silently. Gritting her teeth stopped her from screaming, allowed her to think how, in a small way, she was not entirely being used. She had her secret. Thomas would never know of the vinegar-soaked sponges or the pennyroyal and mugwort concoctions she used, for she had decided from the start of the marriage there would be no children born to her and Thomas Bickerstaff. Children, in Ella’s mind, had to be born into a home filled with love, as her own had been.

  Sadly, love was missing in this house.

  A few evenings later, Thomas waited until after the maid had cleared the table to break his news. He poured two substantial glasses of claret and passed one to Ella.

  “Wife,” he said. “Today I have had
the most excellent news. An ambitious young chemist has been looking for suitable premises in the heart of the city to open a shop. He asked a friend of his to approach me with an offer to buy my business rather than start his own. And I agreed. So, raise your glass, Ella. I have sold it.”

  “But husband, what will you do for income? The house here is comfortable, but costly to maintain without an income. You said the rental from the farm isn’t enough for your needs.”

  “Aha, this is true, and I shan’t be selling that, but with the monies from the joint sales of the shop and house, it will put me in a position of considerable financial ease. We are therefore going to take this substantial wealth to the new colony, Australia.”

  Ella almost choked on her claret. “Australia!”

  »»•««

  And here she was, ten months after that conversation, a twenty-five-year-old widow on the ship Venture, heading with speed to the promise of the New World. Ella rose to gaze through the porthole. Blue sea stretched on forever. She squared her shoulders and pushed down the rising feeling of panic.

  I can cope alone. I will.

  The ship was now bound for Port Adelaide! How different it would be from grimy, fog-ridden London. Ella stroked the white fivers, trusty Bank of England signed notes, almost four-and-a-half-thousand pounds worth of them. But she was not foolish. What appeared to be a fortune could be frittered away with ease if she didn’t take care. It must be wisely invested in Australia, though in what, she had no idea as of yet. Folding the notes, she returned them to the bag with the coins, wondering yet again why Thomas had never mentioned the secret stash. She knew of the monies from the shop and house sale, but they would never have amounted to this small fortune now in her possession.

  Had he perhaps harbored ideas of ridding himself of her once they reached the new country? Had he more than one mistress somewhere? It was possible Thomas had even brought one of them on the ship, an unknown female waiting to take her place. Ella would never know. What she did know was that the discovery of the bag after his untimely death would make her life in Australia, should she choose to stay, very comfortable indeed.