Wild Lands by Nicole Alexander Page B

his bedchamber. It was an airy space and the portraits lining the walls were of two men and a woman, all suitably smug in the way that only the high-born can appear. On the maid’s return, she led Kate to the rear verandah, past a trellis covered in vine, which Kate guessed provided a pretty aspect during the warmer months for those occupants fortunate enoughto be sitting at the breakfast table. A French door fed into another passageway and then to a small room. Plainly decorated, Kate wondered if this was to be her personal domain for the bedchamber had a narrow wardrobe, washstand and mirror but no desk or chair. From the curtained window above the bed there was, however, a fine view of the mountains. They sat like a smudge of pale blue ink against a washed out sky while in the foreground the green wheat fields, which she’d seen on their arrival, swayed gently in the breeze.
    As Kate surveyed the cold room, the maid hovering behind her, heavy footsteps announced the arrival of her trunk. Two convict men dumped the chest in her room and left without a word.
    â€˜Mrs Kable mentioned tea was to be served at six. Might I have water to wash, please?’
    The maid looked at the water pitcher on the washstand. ‘I’ll have some brought directly, but Mrs Kable said you’re to have tea in your room on account of your journey.’ The maid lowered her voice. ‘They’ve got guests and the Missus keeps a first class table, she does. They’re good people and fair, if you know your place.’ The maid pressed her lips together, aware she’d been outspoken.
    â€˜Your name isn’t really Jelly-belly, is it?’
    â€˜You don’t know much about how big houses run, do you, miss?’ The question hung. ‘I’m the head maid, every one of us has been called that,’ she announced. ‘They can’t be expected to remember our names. If you don’t mind me saying so, I think you’re terribly brave, miss.’
    Kate smiled. ‘Brave? I’m probably the least brave of anyone I know. Besides, I can’t see how being employed in the capacity of companion to Mrs Kable could be anything other than pleasurable. I’m yet to be acquainted with her in full, although she seems like a charming lady.’
    The maid’s brow knitted together. ‘I’ll get you that water, miss. But I’ll not be waiting on you while you’re here.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t expect you to.’
    With the rules of their relationship established, Jelly-belly gave a satisfied nod and left.
    Kate opened her trunk. From it she retrieved her mother’s bone-handled hairbrush and cream woollen shawl. Pressing the bristles against her palm, she placed it on the beige coverlet of the sagging bed, then, shawl in hand, Kate walked along the hall and onto a rear porch, open to the elements. Wrapping the stole about her shoulders, she stepped from the verandah out into the garden. The area at the rear of the house held an extensive vegetable garden behind which sat grapevines. A convict woman was bucketing water onto rose bushes, rubbing at the small of her back and straightening as she moved to the next plant, while another rushed in the direction of the kitchen carrying a basket filled with herbs.
    The sun hung low above the mountains, turning the pallid sky bright as it crested the tops of the hills in a white halo. Kate had always been in the kitchen with Madge at this hour. It had been many years since there’d been a quiet moment to watch the day merge into night, and with myriad chores to attend to, the arrival of night had become an almost insignificant event. But now the moment held Kate transfixed. You’re becoming sentimental, she mused, as the landscape softened under lengthening shadows. Prettiness was never a word she’d used to describe her surrounds, the bush was changeable, mysterious. But here in this place Kate witnessed what could be created