Dear Plutocrat Read online

  Swiftly she turned to Paul and began talking, with a sort of urgent haste, and in high-pitched tones that even to herself had an unfamiliar ring.

  'We were merely joking about the food, as you'll have deduced. We get very little meat, you see, and that's why we were joking.'

  Lin had leant forward, puzzled and inquiring. She seemed to be seeking for a reason which would explain her friend's strange behaviour. Paul too seemed surprised by Kate's swiftness of delivery and altered tone of voice, and Kate picked up a piece of meat from her plate, affording it a prolonged and concentrated moment of interest before putting it to her mouth. She became vitally conscious of a pair of blue eyes fixed upon her, staring across Cherry and Lin. Paul had risen; he asked if anyone wanted replenishments and Cherry rose and went with him towards the fire where the gins and their husbands were busy with the food. James appeared and stood smiling down at Lin, who seemed no longer interested in food despite her earlier assertion that she intended eating until she could eat no more.

  'I'm going back to the dancing,' James said, 'and I wondered if you were ready?'

  'Quite ready,' and she rose, excusing herself, and went off with the big rugged Australian, back to the shed and the lights and the music.

  Silence descended—no, it was more than silence; it was a profound tense moment, long and deep, with Mark sitting at one end of the bench and Kate almost at the other. Firelight glowed, scattering flame and shadow; the lilting strains of a waltz issued from the shed behind where Kate and Mark were seated. From somewhere across the lonely purple bush the echo of a dingo's bark drifted on the breeze.

  Suddenly the hush was shattered in the most unexpected way.

  'Miss Beresford,' came the slow and lazy drawl, 'I have an idea that you might be willing to discuss the sale of High Creek—so long as I make the first move?'

  She glanced up and sideways, amazed that he would compromise like this, yet angry that he should conclude that she was ready to admit defeat. A retort sprang to her lips but was repressed by the fact that she was his brother's guest. She merely said quietly:

  'It really was a joke about the food, Mr. Copeland.'

  'I think not,' with a brevity and conviction that instantly served to raise her hackles again. 'The trouble with you English is that you've an inherent obstinacy and pride which all too often leads to your ruin. You know, and so does everyone else around here, that you can't survive for long, so if you're sensible you'll sell out to me now… while I'm in a generous mood.' No banter, no amusement. Mark Copeland was now the business man—hard and ruthless, driving a bargain which, if not accepted at once, would never be offered again in its present form. This time Mark would offer a good price—more than the property was worth, Kate felt sure—but if there was to be a next time he would not be in the same liberal frame of mind.

  'These others you mention,' she said, avoiding the main issue for the present, 'I expect you told them of the mistake I made?' Her cheeks were flushed; the breeze frolicked through her hair and it came on to her face. She brushed it back with her fingers but kept her eyes in front of her, unwilling to meet that penetrating gaze because she knew the blue eyes would be cold and narrowed and in all probability frowning with impatience.

  'I did not find it necessary to inform anyone except my brother of the mistake,' he answered after a pause, and in crisp and faintly acid tones. 'It is not my practice to repeat incidences which can be of no interest to a listener.'

  'I'm sorry…' She had not meant to apologize; the words were out before she had time to bite them back. His statement admonished, as did the ensuing silence. Harriet came up, all smiles for Mark, her beautiful features attaining an added hint of arrogance in the crimson glow from the fire.

  'Am I interrupting, Mark?' Purring tones and silky; the glance she afforded Kate was a mixture of condescension and resentment. 'Everyone is dancing; we wondered where you were.'

  Turning his head, he smiled at her, but Kate sensed a hint of arrogance in the way he looked at the girl Mark Copeland was not the man to be told what to do—however subtle the manner of telling.

  'I have some business to discuss with Miss Beresford,' was the smooth rejoinder as Mark shifted in his seat so that he assumed a rather indolent pose. 'I shall be with you in a little while.'

  'Of course, Mark. I'm sorry to have intruded.' The smile again, the swift and antagonistic look in Kate's direction, and then Harriet was gone. Possessive, concluded Kate, faintly contemptuous of a girl who could be openly hostile to someone she had met for the first time only a couple of hours ago. But Harriet was hostile, that could not be denied. Even on being introduced to Kate she had adopted an unfriendly manner, just as though she resented Kate's being at the dance at all.

  'We have no business to discuss, Mr. Copeland,' Kate said in cool tones, rising to her feet as she did so. Mark got up, and they began walking towards the brightly-lit verandah running all along the front of the barn.

  'You're being very unwise,' he warned, and somehow redirected his steps so that he would bypass the barn. Kate tried to stop, but he continued to walk on and she found herself continuing to keep beside him. She could not very well turn around and leave him, she thought, her mind not running as smoothly as it should. Strange tingles affected her nerves; she was conscious of the magnetism of the man and of his air of superiority; she felt the remoteness of him even while she was acutely alive to the nearness of him physically. A faint elusive smell assailed her nostrils like the wild tang of mountain herbs; after-shave lotion, she assumed, vaguely aware that she liked it. 'You would never have come here had you known what the property was like,' he was saying, his long and easy strides taking them further away from the lights and the music. 'So why this obstinate decision to remain?'

  'We might be obstinate,' she agreed, giving a little skip now and then to keep pace with him. Where was he going? she wondered, twisting her head to see how far they had come. 'But we like a challenge, Mr. Copeland. The old pioneers must have been the same—your ancestors, and at least one of mine,' she added as the thought occurred to her. 'High Creek's a challenge and we intend to do something with it. Once the house is comfortable we shall work full time on the land. We're selling the car and buying things like fertilizers, and once these become effective and the pasture's healthy we shall buy some calves.'

  He seemed amused all at once, letting fall his previous cool and warning manner.

  'My brother tells me you won't buy the calves he has to offer because they're too cheap.'

  'He isn't charging us the market price.'

  'Pride again, eh? He wants to help. I did say you'd made a hit with him, remember?'

  She made no immediate reply, knowing full well what those subtle hints meant. Paul's face rose up before her; she recalled that quite recently she had decided the time was near when she must examine her feelings for him. That he liked her she could not doubt, although as yet this appeared not to have been noticed by either of her friends.

  'We shall buy his calves at market price when we've done the preparatory work, and sold the car.'

  'How long do you estimate it will be before your calves are ready for selling?' To her surprise he slackened his pace to suit hers. She twisted round again; the barn and also the house were a long way off. She felt alone in a wilderness with this man, for nothing stirred but the breeze, moving the branches of the river gums through which moonlight shafted, cold and brilliant and somehow unnerving. Far away in the dim distance rounded hills and more angular residuals melted into a timeless landscape, ancient as the moon, bathed now in the purple and silver glow of night, and cradled in supernal peace. Across the dark sky streaked the Southern Gross, and the soft girdle of the Milky Way—that bright path along which the ancients believed their souls would eventually travel to heaven.

  'I realize it will take time,' Kate answered, her voice taking on that high-pitched tone which always accompanied any sort of tension through which Kate might be passing. 'We don't mind. We're definit
ely set on giving the place a trial.'

  'Women are not fitted to be farmers.' His step became slower still and Kate had an urge to turn and run, which was ridiculous, she told herself, because she was quite safe with Mark Copeland whose only interest in her was the property she owned.

  'There are plenty of women farmers,' she retorted, half turning towards him. 'They make just as good a job of farming as men.'

  He glanced down at her from his great height, and she saw that his lips were curved, but not with amusement this time.

  'Nature didn't provide women with the strength and stamina for the work involved. The women farmers you speak of employ men; if they didn't they wouldn't be farming.'

  She gritted her teeth, restraining herself with the utmost difficulty. It would have been far easier—and certainly more satisfying—to tell him what he was: a pompous self-opinionated male who considered women to be the weaker sex in every sense of the word. Instead she stopped in her tracks, looked round to the lights in the distance, and said coldly:

  'Hadn't we better be getting back? People will be wondering where we are.'

  He smiled with humour then and said:

  'We often go off like this for strolls in the fresh air. Others will be doing the same.' He was close to her, his slender powerful frame erect so that he appeared to be a giant beside her. 'They go out to do a spot of kissing in the dark.'

  Warning sparks flickered and again Kate knew an urge to flee from this man whose attractions seemed to become more forcibly potent with every moment that passed.

  'Getting back to this business of my farm,' she began with that nervous haste which she now knew had been the cause of his making the offer at this time, 'I really mean what I say, Mr. Copeland. I and my friends feel we should give the place a trial.'

  His mouth tightened, but he did not move. The breeze blew fresh and cool, bringing the scent of pines from a faraway hillside and spreading it over the silent bushlands. In a paddock between the barn and the Copeland homestead horses could vaguely be discerned, motionless by the fences. Dingoes in the grasses a long way off broke the silence, but then it fell again, cloaking the eerie haunting wilderness, and enveloping Kate in a net of tense unreality from which she knew she should endeavour to escape—but did not. Mark's voice pressed through the silence at last; she saw the flash of even white teeth as he said casually, in his slow and easy drawl:

  'I've tried to be helpful right from the first, Miss Beresford, hoping, by stressing all the drawbacks, to dissuade you and your friends from coming here. You disregarded my advice, and now you're turning down my offer. I shall make no further attempt to help. When an approach is necessary—and it will be necessary—it is you who will approach me. I shall then make you an offer which will be the market value of the property, and nothing more.'

  Something fastened itself in Kate's throat; she knew it was fear; supposing they did have to sell out quite soon, and Mark Copeland refused to give her sufficient for their fares home? They would be in real trouble then. And if he were generous enough to give her their fares—what then? They would arrive in England penniless and without anywhere to live. Much better to accept whatever he would offer now, as Kate felt sure he was in a mood where her confessions as to their situation would be received with understanding. Yet how could she accept his offer without consulting the others? Also, Kate and her friends already loved this new strange territory, loved its harshness and its solitude, its vastness and its peace. They were having fun renovating the house and planting flowers in the garden, clearing weeds as they went along. Comradeship among them was strengthened and if any one of them feared the future, it was never mentioned to the others. Thinking of these things now as she stood with Mark Copeland, Kate automatically shook her head.

  'I shall have to take that risk,' she murmured at last, and heard the impatient intake of his breath.

  'We'll leave the matter there,' was all he said, and he began walking towards the distant flicker of lights coming from the verandah of the shed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kate skipped to keep up with him. She said, impelled by a demanding urge to learn the worst:

  'Are you going to stop Paul from helping us?'

  'I believe I've already said that Paul is his own master.'

  'But the men—they are really your employees.'

  'Men?'

  'Paul's getting a couple to come over and fix up our electricity. Everything's there, in the outhouse,' she added, 'but you must know that, because David Gleaves had the electricity working.' No comment, and Kate continued, 'Is it all right for Paul to employ your men on our work—?' She stopped as Mark suddenly halted in his tracks and swung round to face her. His glance was dark and glinting and, bewildered, Kate could only stare, waiting for him to speak.

  'Miss Beresford,' he said in tones deep-edged with anger, 'how many times do you want telling that my brother is his own master? What he does is entirely his own affair and you will oblige me by dropping the idea that my permission is required before he can act!' He strode on again, anger in every step, and censure in the silence which endured until it was broken by the lively tune of a square dance drifting out from the shed as they drew closer to it. How odd that Mark's temper should be aroused by the hint that his permission was required before men could be sent from Cunya River Downs to do a job of repair work at High Creek. This was the second time Mark had shown this resentment, although on the first occasion he had merely been short with her. This time he had been downright angry.

  The matter puzzled Kate and she was thinking about it two days later when Cherry, delighted that they now had electricity for lighting and for two small cooking rings, sat making a lampshade from a lace blouse she had cut up. Lin had just come in, having been milking the cow. The other one had been left to feed its young, much to the amusement of Paul, who explained that the sole idea of letting a cow have a calf was so that the milk could be taken.

  'You must separate them,' he had said. 'Then you feed the calf on a substitute. I'll send a man over with some.'

  'Separate them?' Kate had interrupted, shaking her head. 'I don't want to separate them. And I wouldn't dream of giving the calf a substitute; it wouldn't thrive as it should.'

  Paul had merely shrugged, clearly of the opinion that all female pommies were a little soft in the head.

  'I've just had an invitation to visit James's place, Walden Downs—' Lin glanced into the mirror and frowned at her appearance. 'Did he see me like this? Oh, well, never mind.' She looked from Cherry to Kate. 'James was in his ute, going to see Mark Copeland, and he stopped to ask me if I'd like to see his cattle station. He's coming for me tomorrow morning.' She grinned and added, 'Okay if I take the day off, Boss?'

  Kate grinned in response and said yes, it was all right to take the day off.

  'Seeing that you don't get a penny wages I don't see how I can say no,' she added, happy that they could all joke about what had at first seemed so great a misfortune. 'I had an idea James would ask you over to his place,' she went on, her gaze fixing that of Lin. 'He had eyes for no one else at the dance the other night, and he mentioned to me that he would like you to meet his daughter.'

  'Emma, yes. She's just four years old.' Lin went off to her bedroom and Kate and Cherry exchanged glances.

  'I liked James enormously,' said Cherry, holding out her handiwork and trying to imagine what it would look like on the brass table lamp they had found in the shed and which was now converted into an electric lamp after having been polished by each girl in turn until it shone. 'Do you think he's interested in Lin?'

  'He seemed to be,' slowly and with a small frown. 'Except that he doesn't strike me as the type that would act so quickly as this.'

  Cherry nodded.

  'I agree. He's the stolid type—jolly enough and dependable, but I should imagine him being restrained and—well, sort of on his guard where women are concerned.'

  'The type who takes a long time to make up his mind, you mean?'

>   Cherry nodded again, thoughtful as she began to stitch the ruched edging to the shade.

  'Yes, that's right. However, we're getting a little ahead of ourselves,' she added with a faint smile. 'He's only invited Lin to meet his daughter.'

  Lin's face was a study when she returned from the visit to Walden Downs.

  'I've been offered a job,' she said in a thoughtful tone. 'James wants me to look after Emma.'

  Her friends stared. Lin was frowning slightly and Kate wondered if the expression in her eyes was one of disappointment. Had Lin hoped that James's interest was in her alone?

  'You mean—live at Walden Downs?' asked Kate, thinking of the distance, which was over fifty miles.

  'He wants me to live there, yes. Emma's not had a nanny yet; the lubras have looked after her. But James has been feeling for some time that he should get someone to devote her whole time to her. He asked me because he also thinks it's time she started learning a little. I mentioned that I was a schoolteacher, you see.' Lin sat down, her angular body seeming to droop as she did so.

  'You haven't decided, obviously?' from Cherry in an anxious voice.

  'I told him I'd consider it—' she shook her head. 'I don't think I shall accept the post. I'd rather stay here with you two.'

  'What's the child like?' inquired Kate after a rather awkward pause.

  'Very sweet.' A sudden change in Lin and a smile entered her eyes. 'Fair hair with blue eyes and as dainty as a doll. Bright as a button too. It would be easy to teach her. James dotes on her and no wonder.' Lin leant back, crossing her long legs. She seemed to be avoiding her friends' looks and they glanced at each other.