loaded pistol. A moment later, Emily, James and Louisa charged down from the orchard to see what the commotion was.
Mr Barton stared at Mamma, then at Charlotte, and a look of fury washed across his face. Then he took in the three mounted constables with their own pistols drawn.
âGood morning, Mrs Barton, my dear,â said Mr Barton, replacing his own weapon in his belt. âHow are you this morning? Good morning, officers.â
âWhat are you doing?â demanded Mamma, sitting ramrod straight in the saddle, pointing with her riding crop. âWhy is all the furniture packed on a dray?â
Mr Barton flashed a glance at the constables. âDonât you remember, my dear?â asked Mr Barton. âWe discussed this. I am having the furniture removed to Sydney . . . for storage .â
âWe did not discuss this and I do not wish our furniture removed to Sydney for storage,â Mamma contradicted. Mr Barton scowled.
âYou are not planning on selling this load of furniture, I hope, Mr Barton?â asked Mr Chalkley. âThe furniture is part of the estate of the late James Atkinson, and therefore was bequeathed to his four children. If you were to sell the furniture, that would be a felony.â
Mr Barton glared at Mamma and Charlotte again, still mounted on their horses. Mr Chalkley indicated to his two constables to dismount.
âNo,â Mr Barton replied. âI beg your pardon. It must have slipped my mind to mention it to my wife. But as the estate is soon to be let, we will not be requiring this quantity of furniture. We will move into one of my new cottages in Berrima, where our needs will be much simpler.â
Mamma frowned. Charlotteâs heart sank. The thought of living in a little cottage in the village with Mr Barton was intolerable.
âI wish we could help you, maâam,â said Mr Chalkley. âBut if the furniture is just being moved, we canât stop him.â
Mamma paused before dismounting. She was tiny compared to the tall, brawny bullock driver and the other men. âThank you, Mr Chalkley,â replied Mamma. âI appreciate your kindness, but my husband is correct. If we are to move from our home, we will not require such a quantity of grand furniture.â
Mr Barton smirked with satisfaction. Charlotteâs eyes filled with bitter tears. How can Mamma give in like this? How can she let Mr Barton triumph?
Mamma turned to one of the labourers. âSamuel, IÂ will need you to ride for Sydney at once with a message for my lawyers,â she ordered sternly. âI will write them a letter directing them to organise storage for the furniture in a suitable warehouse until further notice from myself. Once you have delivered the letter and received your instructions, you are to ride back to Brickfield Hill and await the dray so you can direct them to the warehouse.â
Mr Barton started forward, his face red with fury. âNow just a moment . . .â
Mamma ignored him, turning to the bullock driver and the other labourer. âJohn, you are to take this load as swiftly as possible to meet Samuel at Brickfield Hill and ensure it is stored safely in the designated warehouse. Paddy will accompany you as a guard.â
The three men glanced at Mr Barton for confirmation.
âThatâs unnecessary, my dear,â interrupted Mr Barton, his face sweating. âIâll go to Sydney and organise the furniture.â
âThank you, that is very kind, Mr Barton,â Mamma said sweetly. âHowever, my lawyers would be more than happy to ensure that my childrenâs inheritance is secure. IÂ would not wish to put you to any trouble.â
Mr Chalkley grinned to himself at the exchange.
âPerhaps we could be of assistance, maâam?â suggested Mr Chalkley to Mamma. âMy two constables would be happy to escort the dray as far as Nattai to see it safely on its
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