Anne Brear Read online

  “Were you born here?” Frances asked as Pierre, curiously dressed in white trousers and shirt, placed a tray on the table. He gave them a stiff bow and without speaking left them.

  “No. I’ve only been in this country a short time.” Nicola accepted the coffee that Frances poured for her. The tray held a plate of delicate pastries and she took one, suddenly feeling very hungry. The tart, filled with apple and cream, sticky and sweet, melted in her mouth. “This is good.”

  Frances winked. “I told you. But don’t let it become common knowledge or Pierre will have a seizure. He likes to keep it all on the quiet lest his past catches up with him.”

  Nodding, Nicola smiled and took another bite. “What about you? Have you always lived here?”

  “Lord, no. I escaped England and my parents last year and followed my brother here, much to his surprise.”

  “Escaped?” Fascinated, Nicola stared at her.

  “Yes, escaped. Sounds tragic, doesn’t it? I escaped my parents’ noose-like hold on me and I escaped their wealth, which trapped me much more securely than poverty ever could.” Frances sipped her black coffee. “My parents insisted I marry some son of a political friend that would further my father’s interests in the government. I refused and my life became hell. You see, my parents didn’t like their children much and saw us as pawns to be used in games of wealth and power. I’d watched the way they used my oldest brother for advancement by making him marry a rich heiress. They wanted my second brother, Nat, to do the same, but he denied them the chance by purposely ruining his reputation. In the end they shunned him and he became bitter.”

  “How sad.”

  “Yes.” A wistful expression flittered across her face. “I love my brother but my parents have done lasting damage to him. They treated him like something foul they’d trodden in. He changed from the laughing carefree brother I knew to a cynical sour man. When he left home, vowing to never return, I knew that my life would alter and that my parents would use me as their next project to gain more wealth and recognition. I couldn’t let that happen. My brother wrote to me, thank God. And as soon as I could, I joined him here.”

  “And now you’re free.”

  “And now I’m poor!” Frances laughed and played with her teaspoon. “Nat has done well and keeps me alive but I hate asking him for anything. My family has a history of taking and not giving. I refuse to act the same. However, he gives me an allowance and I use it to help the poor. I wanted to work but he wouldn’t let me. So I do charity work instead.”

  “And the rights campaign?”

  “That’s something I do in my spare time, when I can. I’m passionate about it, but feeding the starving is more important at this present time. Anyway, enough about me.” She shook her head. “I’ve not talked so much about myself in my life. You must have a way with you.”

  Nicola paused from taking a sip of coffee and thought about it. “Actually, you could be right. People have always talked to me; my parents, my father’s pupils, the neighbours. I’m happy to listen.”

  “So tell me about yourself.”

  “Not much to say. I’m a governess looking for work.”

  Frances scowled. “Another governess. There is barely enough work for the ones already here, do you know that?”

  “Yes. I do now.” Sighing, Nicola glanced down at her small plate and its scattering of crumbs. “Most positions advertised have a hundred or more women applying for them.”

  “I see a lot of women in dire trouble at the soup kitchen. Too many come out here thinking they have permanent employment, only to find they have nothing and no one.” Frances drained her coffee and from her pocket pulled out a small watch on a chain. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Yes, of course. I too have been out longer than expected.” Nicola rose and fished in her purse for coins.

  “No, leave that. Pierre and I have an agreement.” She laughed. “No, not that kind of agreement.” She turned and waved to Pierre and nodded to the other customers.

  Outside in the street, Frances hesitated and a quizzical expression flitted across her face. “I think you’re a decent sort. Perhaps we can meet again?”

  Nicola smiled at her honesty. “I’d like that.”

  “You mentioned you did poor work back home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Want to work at a soup kitchen tomorrow?” She raised her eyebrows as though daring her.

  “Of course.” She didn’t hesitate.

  “I’ll meet you on Lower George Street at ten o’clock. There’s an alley running from it down to the harbour. I’ll wait for you there.”

  Chapter Five

  Nicola lifted her navy skirts high off the ground. A man leaning against a wall across the street whistled at the showing of ankle, but she ignored him and stepped over a puddle. Rain during the night had done little to wash away the grime from this area of the town. A stench from an unknown source made her want to cover her nose, but she hadn’t a free hand. Clutching her skirts she tried her best to keep them clean, although a glance at the dirty hem showed this was a forlorn hope.

  “There you are.” Frances exited the entrance to an alley and greeted her with a grin. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

  Nicola frowned. “Why ever not? I said I would.”

  “Yes, well many people say things they later regret.” Frances shrugged and slipped her hands into her drab skirt pockets. “Anyhow, come along, we’ve got hungry people to feed.”

  The dull grey day cast the alley into gloom. Noise and clamour from the harbour, docks and warehouses vibrated along the walls. Seagulls cried as they wheeled over the buildings. Further down the alley, people gathered in a straggly line; old men, women with babies on their hips and children peeking from behind their skirts. All wore the same doleful expression. The sunken eyes watched without interest as Frances escorted Nicola through the large double doors and inside an old disused warehouse. It took her a moment for Nicola’s eyes to adjust to the dimness of the building. The only light came from the open vents high up in the walls. She guessed that over thirty people sat at the rows of planks that served as tables. Low chatter filled the room mixing with the shuffling of feet and the scraping of spoons.

  “Right. You can serve beside me today.” Frances, her sleeves already rolled back, guided Nicola behind the long serving tables where two large pots of stew sat beside trays of bread chunks and stacks of bowls.

  Nicola tied on the grey apron Frances provided while an older woman joined them. “This is Mrs Lawson. She helps me to run this soup kitchen. Her son owns a bakery and from him we buy the two-day-old bread.”

  Nicola didn’t have time to do anything but smile and say good morning to Mrs Lawson as Frances gave her a ladle and pointed to the pot full of a watery vegetable stew. “Fill each bowl as I send them along.”

  Nodding, she took a deep breath and looked up at the first person to step before her.

  Over an hour later, when the human line had finally stopped coming through the doors, Nicola helped Frances and Mrs Lawson to clear away. “How many times do you do this?”

  “Three times a week.” Frances heaved a long bench to one side to sweep under it. “I’d like to provide it once a day, but funds are limited.”

  “How many patrons do you have?”

  “None. I pay for it myself, courtesy of my brother. Mrs Lawson supplies her time, which is wonderful because I couldn’t do it alone, but I have no wealthy gents passing me copious amounts of money to buy what I need. Though it isn’t for the want of trying.”

  “What about your brother. Can he not persuade his friends and acquaintances?”

  Frances shook her head. “No, he won’t consider it and he ignores my begging. Besides, he already helps me with another project of mine and that’s funding a small private orphanage in Parramatta. He says he is in this country to amass a fortune not spend one on other people’s brats.” She sighed. “He can be rather cold at times, but thankfully I know the real man beneath, o
therwise I’d have nothing to do with him. He has no idea that the money he gives me to live on actually goes to others. He’d be horrified if he did.”

  Nicola stopped her scrubbing of a table and stared, amazed by this woman’s selflessness and commitment. “Heavens, Frances. You are exceptional.”

  “Nonsense. I do what I can, because I can, and I like helping others less fortunate.”

  Mrs Lawson waved to them as she walked towards the doors. “I’m off home now, ladies. Nice to have met you, Miss Douglas.”

  “And I you, Mrs Lawson.” Nicola smiled.

  Frances waved and called out her goodbyes before turning back to Nicola. “I want to thank you for coming here today, Nicola.”

  “I enjoyed being of use.” She rinsed out her cloth in the bucket of cold soapy water. “Sitting around at the lodgings with nothing to do is tiresome. When I returned home yesterday after leaving you, I found a letter for me in reply to one of the advertisements I’d answered. The position had been filled before my letter even arrived on their doorstep.”

  Frances swept her way towards the doors. “I know it must be difficult for you. I am sorry. Although…” Frances turned to grin at her. “While you aren’t engaged in a position, perhaps I can claim your services here?”

  Nicola couldn’t help but laugh, realising she would enjoy being useful. “I don’t see why not.”

  Suddenly a man stood in the doorway. He was dressed splendidly in a long black woollen coat with knee length black boots that gleamed even in the muted light of the large room.

  Laughter left Nicola as though she’d been dunked in a tub of ice water. Her stomach clenched as Nathaniel West gazed at her. His violet eyes narrowed on recognition, but his expression gave nothing away however, as Frances greeted him.

  “Why, Nat, what you doing here?” She kissed his cheek and Nicola caught a glimpse of her softer side. “Come and meet my new friend, Miss Douglas. Nicola this is my brother, Nathaniel West.”

  Nicola groaned inwardly. Why did it have to be him of all people?

  Nathaniel hesitated. “I’m afraid I have little time, Frances.” His frosty stare penetrated Nicola’s soul before he bowed in her direction. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Douglas.”

  The distance between them was no more than ten paces, yet she felt as though it was a divide the size of the harbour. She inclined her head but remained silent and was rewarded by a sardonic lift of his arched eyebrow. She was grateful at least that he didn’t mention their previous meeting.

  Frances, attuned to their reaction to each other, looked at Nathaniel. “You needed to see me about something?”

  “Yes. I’ve invited a few friends over for dinner tomorrow evening and would be glad if you could join us.”

  “Play your hostess you mean?” She folded her arms. “You know I am unhappy about such things. I didn’t come out here to don finery and be—”

  He held his hand up, silencing her. “I’m merely asking if you could, but if you are unavailable, I will understand.”

  “You understanding? That’ll be a first.”

  His expression became stiff. “Frances.”

  “Oh, all right, but I’ll only do it if Nicola is invited too. I need some female company.”

  Nicola jerked. “No!”

  Both brother and sister blinked in surprise at her vehement rejection. Nathaniel folded his arms and his lips curved into a wry smile. “I’d be delighted to include Miss Douglas in the party.”

  “Oh yes, do come, Nicola.” Frances smiled. “I do need support in a room full of smug men.”

  Shaking her head, Nicola carried the bucket to the end of the room and untied her apron. “I’m sorry, I’m unable to attend.” She refused to meet their eyes as she headed for the door. When she drew level with Frances she forced a smiled. “I must go.”

  “Please come, Nicola.”

  “I cannot. Sorry.”

  “Perhaps Miss Douglas is unused to polite society?” Nathaniel carelessly inspected his black gloves.

  “Nat!” Shocked, Frances scowled at him.

  He raised his gaze to Nicola and she swallowed back a sharp retort when a spark of something she couldn’t define lit his eyes. He was challenging her. For a moment she wanted to laugh at him, mock him, but something stopped her. She wouldn’t stoop to his level. “Good day, Mr West.” She took Frances’s hand and pressed it. “I’ll speak to you soon.” With head high, she turned and left them.

  Watching her go, so proud and feminine, Nathaniel sucked in a breath. His groin tightened and his heart thumped against his chest like blacksmith’s hammer. God, she is beautiful.

  “Now what the hell was all that about!” Frances slapped his arm. “She is my new friend, and you know I don’t have many, so why did you act as though she was something you’d just wiped off your boots? You have more of Father in you than you think.”

  “Don’t ever say that.” He gave her a loathsome glare. “I am nothing like him.”

  “Then don’t act it. You’re better than that.”

  He shrugged, slipping behind his comfortable mask of unconcern and gazed around, buying some time to gather his thoughts. “Are you finished in here for today? Perhaps we could go have something to eat.”

  “Don’t avoid the question. Why did you behave like that to Nicola? She isn’t some ignorant servant.”

  “I’m hungry, Frances. I’d rather take you out than have you harangue me like a whore on a street corner. So, can we go?”

  Frances marched away to lean the broom against the back wall and then, in jerking movements, she untied her apron. “I don’t understand why you have to act the arrogant swine all the time. I know you’re not really like that.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  She stopped and looked at him. “We aren’t at home now. Mother and Father no longer rule us. You are your own man. There’s no need to put on these acts of—”

  “Enough, Frances.” Nathaniel walked out of the building not caring if she followed or not. He hated thinking of his parents, hated being reminded of how ill they used him. The past was gone.

  “Don’t you walk away from me!” Frances strode up alongside of him. “Lord, Nat, you are one frustrating—”

  He swung to face her. “Why must you drag up the past all the time? I don’t want to think about it or talk about it. Ever.”

  She planted her feet apart and stuck her hands on her hips. “Then why do you act the way you do? If you’re happy to leave the past behind then why do you put up all these defences? You are no happier here than you were back in England or else you’d smile a lot more.”

  He frowned. “I do smile.”

  “Your smile is usually a sarcastic lift of your lips. I should know as I’m usually on the receiving end of one.” She locked the warehouse doors.

  Nat sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair. “If I’d known that inviting you out for a meal would give me so much anguish I’d not have bothered.”

  “Fine!” Frances spat, storming off. “I don’t need your bloody charity anyway.”

  “Yes, you do!” Chuckling at her outrage and language, he ran and caught her arm. “I love you, you mad wench.”

  She stopped and gaped at him with her wide grey eyes.

  He kissed her cheek and his smile, for the first time in a long while, was real.

  “I love you too.” She softened her stance and linked her arm through his.

  “You know, you’ll never find a husband using that kind of language. It’s bad enough you’ll be wearing his clothes but to speak like him too, might be pushing the limits, dearest.”

  She spluttered. “A husband! Never!” Then looking up at him she sighed. “I’ve got you, that’s all I need.”

  * * *

  Nicola emerged out of the tin bath’s cooling water and wrapped a towel around herself. Her arms ached from carrying bucket after bucket of hot water upstairs but at least she was clean. Working at the soup kitchen was rewarding, but she couldn’t take the risk
of bringing disease back to the lodging and so, three times a week for the last two weeks, she’d bathed on returning from Lower George Street. Meg often laughed and made fun of her for constantly washing, saying she’d turn into a water nymph.

  She dried her body and then donned clean undergarments. Sitting on the bed, she used the towel to dry her hair. On the small dresser, her parents watched from their portraits and she smiled back at them. After the long voyage out here and living in lodgings for months, she felt that her life back in England had all been a dream. Everything was so different now. Her foreign surroundings and harsh environment were the complete opposite to the softness of her old home and lushness of England’s countryside. Still, she was here to start again and so far, she’d made some lovely friends. Mr Belfroy, God bless the man, had sold another couple of her sketches, but her stock was dwindling. She’d have to find the time to do more and even paint if possible.

  “Nicola.” Meg’s voice rang through the bedroom door.

  She slipped on her night wrap. “Come in.”

  Meg pranced into the room and flopped onto the end of the bed, eyeing the bath. “You all finished?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Are you going to that awful woman’s meeting this evening?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well since you don’t like my ideas for an evening’s entertainment, I thought I’d go along with you, if you don’t mind.”

  Nicola hid a grin, knowing that Meg only wanted some diversion from the occupants of the house and was not intrigued by Frances’s issues at all. “I don’t mind.”

  Meg sprang up and stepped around the bath to look out of the small window. “I’m bored.”

  “I know.”

  Fiddling with the curtain, Meg sighed. “I hardly see you anymore. That Frances takes up all of your time. If it’s not the soup kitchen, it’s all that rights nonsense. If it’s not that, then it’s going out on other charity work.”