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  ‘The marriage service tells women to obey their husbands.’

  ‘And the clergyman at our local church sided with my father, so I’m not binding myself to the rules of people who can be so cruel.’

  ‘You know, I think I’d feel the same in your place.’

  He sounded surprised. She studied his face, wondering if he meant it. How could you tell what a person was like inside? Well, you couldn’t. But Fergus had always been kind to his family, and that was a good sign.

  Wasn’t it?

  Suddenly she decided to take the risk and it felt as if a heavy burden had lifted immediately from her shoulders. She straightened up and looked him in the eye. ‘Very well, Fergus. I’ll marry you.’

  He nodded, as if accepting that, but he was still frowning thoughtfully. ‘May I ask what decided you?’

  ‘You comforted me just now when I was weeping. And you cared enough for the Gradys to make sure they could go with you to Australia. You’re making provision for Niamh, even though you don’t love her. So I think you’ll be fair to me, at least. And kind. That will make things easier between us.’

  He inclined his head and his frown cleared a little, though his expression was still as solemn as ever.

  ‘Good. We’d better go and tell them, then.’

  ‘Give me a moment.’ Cara wiped the tears from her cheeks, checked in the mirror over the mantelpiece that her hair was tidy, and turned to him. There was one other thing she had to say. ‘I think it should be a marriage in name only to begin with, though, until we both agree that the time has come. I would like other children, but not … forced upon me. I don’t feel I know you well enough yet to be a proper wife.’

  ‘I can understand that. I’d never force a woman, I promise you, so we’ll decide the right time together. Is that everything?’

  ‘Yes. Unless you have any more questions?’

  ‘No. I’ve said my piece.’ Had done better than he’d expected to, for a man more skilled with machinery than words.

  She turned towards the door. ‘Let’s go and tell the others, then.’

  ‘It was Pa who suggested it to me, but he’d have discussed it with Ma, so they’ll have guessed what I’m asking you.’

  ‘She’s a wonderful woman, Ma.’

  ‘Yes, she is. I don’t know what we’d have done without her this past year. Eileen was unwell for months.’ He opened the door and stood back to let Cara through.

  As she passed him, she stopped, feeling a need to offer him something in return for what he was offering her. ‘I’ll work hard for you and yours, Fergus Deagan. It won’t be my fault if we don’t make this marriage … this family … turn out well.’

  ‘I’ll work hard for you, too.’ He held out his hand and they shook solemnly.

  What a strange way to seal an agreement to marry! But it felt right.

  She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. She didn’t think she was.

  He was probably feeling the same.

  When Cara and Fergus went back into the kitchen, they found Mrs Julia holding Niamh and chatting to Ma, while Mr Kieran chatted to Pa. Everyone turned to look at them.

  Fergus stopped and put his arm round Cara’s shoulders because it didn’t seem right to make this announcement standing separately. He felt her twitch in shock, then stand still. ‘Cara and I have agreed to get married. We think it will – um, benefit everyone.’

  Pa beamed at him. ‘Well done, lad.’

  Sean and Mal stared at their father solemnly, a question in their eyes, as if they weren’t sure what this would mean for them. He would have to talk to them later, he decided. He looked across at Mr Kieran and Mrs Julia, hoping they would approve.

  ‘It’s obviously a marriage of convenience. For us both,’ he said.

  ‘That can make a very acceptable basis for a life together,’ Mrs Julia said quietly. ‘Mutual need and mutual support.’ She looked at Cara. ‘Are you happy with this?’

  ‘Yes. It’s the right thing to do.’ Her voice was quiet but firm. ‘Apart from other considerations, I’ve grown to love Niamh.’

  Fergus was pleased that she’d spoken steadily. He didn’t want another over-emotional female weeping all over him for the slightest thing.

  ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea.’ Ma came across to give Cara a quick peck on the cheek. ‘My Eileen would be pleased to see her little daughter with such a loving stepmother, and I’ve grown very fond of you myself, Cara.’

  Fergus continued to stand there, not sure what to do next. His arm was still round Cara’s shoulders so he left it there.

  When she looked sideways at him, she gave an uncertain smile and he wanted to reassure her that it’d be all right, but couldn’t find the words. She didn’t move away, so he didn’t, either. Maybe their actions were speaking louder than words. He hoped so.

  ‘We must make plans for a wedding, then!’ Mrs Julia said. ‘I do love a wedding.’

  ‘We’ll need to get a special licence,’ Mr Kieran said. ‘Do you need help?’

  ‘No, I think I can manage. A fellow at work did it.’

  Mr Kieran nodded, then looked round. ‘You’ll have to sell nearly all your possessions. It’s too expensive to take them on a ship.’

  ‘Nonetheless, I’d like to take my tools with me,’ Fergus said. ‘They’re good ones and I’ll need them to make my living in Australia.’

  ‘What do you do exactly?’

  ‘I’m an engineer’s assistant at the railway yards. I’m good with machinery, and I’m good at making things with wood, too.’

  ‘You sound a useful man to have around. I’m sure you’ll find work easily in Australia,’ Mr Kieran said. ‘I gather they’re very short of skilled craftsmen there.’ His voice became brisk. ‘All right, then. If you will start making arrangements to sell the contents of the house and pack what you’re taking, I’ll book passages for you all on the ship. I’ll be in touch regularly about the details. Before you sail, we’ll spend a few days outfitting everyone for the voyage.’

  He took out a card and scribbled something on it, then handed it to Fergus. ‘You’ll hear from me within a day or two. This is our friends’ address. We’ll be visiting them for a week or two, so you can write to us there if you need anything.’

  The Largans stayed for a few more minutes, then left.

  For a few moments, no one spoke. Cara felt rather shy. She didn’t know how to behave in the family now, or how free she was to speak her piece.

  ‘Well, we’ll have to make a lot of plans, won’t we?’ Mrs Grady turned to Cara. ‘Can you write us down a list, dear?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Cara looked across at Sean. ‘Will you find me some paper and a pen, please?’

  Fergus opened his mouth and made as if to push his chair back, but she laid one hand on his arm and mouthed, ‘Let him.’ She wanted the boys to feel involved in this in every way possible.

  When Sean brought the things back, shadowed as usual by Mal, she thanked him and looked at Fergus to take the lead. But he was lost in thought, so she took it upon herself to say, ‘Would you boys like to sit down and listen to us planning? After all, you’ll be helping us get ready, won’t you? And you might think of something we’ve missed.’

  ‘Why are you going to marry Dad?’ Sean asked abruptly.

  That got Fergus’s full attention and he looked a bit annoyed, so she said hastily, ‘Because we can help one another.’

  He jerked his head towards the baby lying peacefully asleep in a drawer. ‘It’s because of her, isn’t it?’

  ‘Partly. But it’s for other reasons too.’

  Fergus joined in. ‘Life is easier if a man has a wife, and if children have a mother. Cara will be able to help with you two as well as the baby.’

  Sean scowled. ‘But she isn’t our mother. And we’re not babies, so we don’t need any help.’

  ‘I’ll be your stepmother, which is different, I agree,’ Cara said hastily. ‘But your mother made your father promise to marry again, so w
hen we marry, we’ll be doing what she wanted.’

  ‘Did she really tell you to do that, Dad?’ He didn’t look fully convinced.

  ‘Yes, she did,’ Fergus said firmly. ‘I gave her my word and we Deagans don’t break our promises.’

  ‘Oh.’ But Sean still didn’t look happy.

  Ma changed the subject. ‘Well, now that’s settled, let’s get on with our planning. Mr Kieran was right: we’ll need to sell everything except your tools and a few bits and pieces, Fergus. And we’ll need to buy trunks to put our things in.’

  Cara saw the boys staring round the only home they had ever known. Mal’s bottom lip was wobbling and Sean looked unhappy. Her heart went out to them. But life was hard sometimes and they had no choice but to cope with the coming changes.

  She had to cope with them, too. She would have a husband, a man she hardly knew. She shivered. She wouldn’t be able to keep Fergus out of her bed for ever, but at least he’d agreed to take things slowly. Well, he wanted her for what she could do for the family, not because he loved her or lusted after her body.

  She remembered books she’d read in what she thought of now as her ‘other’ life. They weren’t true, those stories. Love didn’t conquer all. Good didn’t always triumph over evil. Some people got away with being wicked.

  She clicked her tongue in exasperation at herself. How many times did she have to tell herself not to dwell on that?

  She should be grateful for what she’d been offered today. Very grateful. It was far more than she could have expected in her new life.

  And best of all, she wouldn’t be alone any longer. That was such a relief. Even though she’d tried to hide it, she had been absolutely terrified of being left to fend for herself in England after the family left for Australia.

  Niamh made a murmuring noise in her sleep. Cara looked down at the sleeping baby and smiled. She loved little Niamh already and oh, the joy of not losing her!

  She looked up and saw Fergus staring at her. Surely it wasn’t her imagination that his eyes softened just a little as he watched her with his tiny daughter?

  5

  London

  Early one evening, Rémi Newland strolled along beside the River Thames, wondering whether he ought to throw himself in and be done with it. He grimaced at that idea. No, of course he didn’t want to die and wasn’t seriously considering suicide, but he didn’t want to continue living like this, either.

  He’d walked out of the family business a few hours ago, after yet another dressing down by his Uncle Arnold for untidy work – this time in front of lowly clerks, too. He hadn’t deigned to answer back, just walked out.

  He couldn’t go back to work there, just … couldn’t. And yet, he couldn’t think what else to do with his life. The only thing he knew for certain was that he didn’t intend to spend any more years, or weeks even, peering at accounts and scratching figures into long columns, on and on till he felt he’d go mad from the tedium of such work.

  Every time he looked at his permanently ink-stained fingers, he wanted to hurl his pen across the room instead of dipping it into the inkwell over and over again.

  He knew that eventually he’d have to go home and face his uncle. He always seemed to be upsetting the old man these days. A previous confrontation had resulted in him being moved to this tedious job and threatened once again with imprisonment.

  ‘You are still legally and morally bound to repay me for your parents’ debts,’ his uncle had said, with that sneering look he saved for those completely in his power.

  Rémi doubted that his uncle would understand a plea of temporary insanity caused by utter boredom as mitigation for today’s offence. He also doubted that his uncle would have him imprisoned for debt, because it’d shame the family. But unfortunately, Rémi did consider himself honour-bound to repay his uncle.

  He’d been twenty-five when it happened, travelling round France with his mother’s cousin Pierre, helping him buy classical antiquities for rich clients. A lazy, enjoyable sort of life. He’d gone to university and trained as a lawyer, but his parents had enough money to make him a generous allowance – or so he’d thought – and he hadn’t needed to work for a living.

  And then his parents had been killed in an avalanche while climbing in the French Alps. Rémi had gone rushing to bury them.

  The debts had come as a shock. He knew his mother had brought money to the marriage. His father’s brother told him in clipped tones that the money had been invested unwisely and spent lavishly.

  ‘I will pay off those debts for the sake of the family name,’ his uncle had said, ‘but I will expect you to pay back that money.’

  What could Rémi do but agree?

  It hadn’t been too bad working for Newland Importers at first, and he’d learned a lot about buying and selling. His cousins were younger than him, but as they grew old enough to take over the more important jobs in the family trading business, Rémi had been moved to other positions, each less interesting than the one before.

  And his parents’ debts had been so huge, he’d still not paid them back completely, even after twelve years working for his uncle.

  Many times he’d contemplated running away and abandoning the debt. Once, at the end of the third year, he’d got as far as telling his uncle that he’d paid enough and was leaving. The old man was rich enough not to need the money, after all.

  Which was when Uncle Arnold had produced a paper Rémi had signed at that sad time, without realising its implications. So much for his legal training!

  ‘If you leave, I’ll have you arrested and imprisoned for debt. Make no mistake about that, Rémi.’

  He had stayed, withdrawing into himself, taking refuge in books, finding a few friends with similar tastes. He’d tried his hand at writing novels with dreams of earning extra money, but found he hadn’t a good enough gift for storytelling. He’d managed the small amount of money left from his wages carefully, living with his aunt and uncle, and attending his aunt’s dinner parties when she needed a man to balance out the numbers.

  He avoided young women of his own class because he couldn’t afford to marry, but he’d indulged in a few romantic affairs. Not all married ladies were faithful and he had a normal man’s desires and needs. He wasn’t good looking, but for some reason he seemed to be attractive to women.

  The trouble was, if he did leave the family business now, he would not only have to leave the country to avoid being arrested for debt, but he’d still need to find a way to earn a living. He didn’t have enough money to live on permanently.

  He shouldn’t have spent as much on books, but he would have gone mad over the years if he hadn’t had books to turn to. They’d provided food for his brain, as well as a way of escaping reality. They’d also led to friendships with bookshop owners and other avid readers. He was, he knew, very well read. For all the good that did him.

  Every now and then he’d break out, just a little: get drunk, or go off to the country for a few days without getting his uncle’s permission. Once he’d lain in bed for weeks, unable to face getting up. Suffering from a ‘melancholy’ the doctor had said, and recommended rest.

  After a while, resting grew so boring that Rémi had pulled himself together and gone back to work.

  The differences between him and his cousins had increased over the years. They had married well, choosing respectable young ladies who’d have bored Rémi to tears in a week.

  Once her sons were safely wed, his aunt had turned her matchmaking skills on Rémi, introducing him to various young ladies who would bring him money. He’d not wanted to marry any of them. The debt would be paid off in another two years. He wasn’t going to tie himself to a boring, unattractive woman for the rest of his life.

  He’d only been fond of one of his father’s English relatives: an elderly aunt of his father’s, who had taken a fancy to him.

  Jane had been a jolly old stick and he’d enjoyed visiting her, because they shared a sense of humour that made the other relat
ives frown. She had considered him a fellow rebel against ‘The Bores’, which was what she called the rest of her family.

  Unfortunately, by the time Auntie Jane died, she’d had only a modest amount of money to leave him, as well as her books and furniture, because her main income had been an annuity, which had died with her. He could have used her legacy to pay off the debt, but that would have left him penniless, so he told his uncle it was only twenty pounds.

  As a light rain began to fall, Rémi sighed wearily and turned towards home, shivering. He might as well go and face the music.

  When he entered the house, the senior housemaid was passing through the hall. She usually had a smile for him, but today she shook her head at him, as if irritated.

  ‘The master would like to see you in the library, Mr Rémi.’

  ‘I’d better change my clothes first. I’m a bit damp.’

  Her expression remained wooden. ‘The master left word that he would like to see you immediately on your return.’

  Squaring his shoulders, Rémi made his way to the library, stopping in the doorway when he saw that all three of his cousins were there as well, sitting with their father in the big armchairs. They turned to stare at him, but didn’t greet him by more than the slightest of nods.

  His uncle gave him a basilisk stare, which seemed worse than his usual loud anger. ‘Come and sit down, Rémi.’

  He did as he was told and waited to be enlightened as to his fate.

  ‘My sons and I have discussed your future at great length this afternoon.’

  Rémi continued to wait in silence for him to get to the point.

  ‘Clearly you can’t continue to work for the family. Today’s shocking incident, coming on top of your recent liaison with another immoral woman, was the final straw! Something must be done about you, that’s for sure.’

  Uncle Arnold paused and his three sons nodded agreement, as usual.

  Rémi dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. Don’t lose your temper! he told himself.

  ‘We feel you need a complete change of scenery.’ The words hung in the air and his uncle studied him as if he was a beetle impaled on a pin. ‘So we’re sending you to Australia.’