One of Us Buried by Johanna Craven (year 2 reading books TXT) 📕

of stolen bread. The first time I had admitted I had been sent here for life.

Lottie’s lips parted. The she looked up and down at my neatly stitched skirts. At the leather boots buckled at my ankles.

“Seven years,” she said bitterly. “You told me you got seven years for thieving. And now I learn you’re a lifer.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I knew there was no excuse for my lies. I’d just been too embarrassed to tell the truth.

Lottie snorted. “And yet you seem to be doing just fine for yourself now.”

She pulled free of my grip and followed Owen down the alley, leaving me standing alone in the corner of the kitchen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

On our second tramp around the settlement, Flynn asked, “What was your crime?”

The question was put simply, as though he were asking about the weather. But there was enough forced casualness in it for me to know he had been trying to bring himself to spit out the words.

I couldn’t blame him, of course. He was to sleep beside me in the night. For all he knew, I’d been shipped out here for murder.

As I told my sorry tale, I heard myself return to a victim, coerced into counterfeiting by my scheming husband. I felt oddly outside myself. When I’d first told this story to the magistrate in London, I’d clung to my victimhood, to my belief I’d been so grossly wronged by the world around me. Now the memory of my naivety just made me angry.

But I also knew what a precious thing it was to find a good man to marry here, and I felt instinctively that that naivety would tug at the sensibilities of fine upstanding Arthur Flynn. If I had to be a victim in order to please my betrothed, then that was what I would do.

I looked up at Flynn with wide eyes. “I was a fool,” I told him. “And I was too afraid to turn my back on my husband.”

He gave me a small smile. “We all make mistakes. Besides, what hope did you have with a man like that in your life?”

And I nodded along, yes, indeed, a hardened criminal, the worst of men, feeling more than a small pull of guilt for my murdered husband lying in his grave.

Flynn covered my hand with his. “I’d very much like you to see my property,” he said, and I felt my shoulders sink with relief at the change of subject. “I could show you around the place. You could see your rooms. With Ann in attendance of course.”

I smiled. “I’d like that very much.”

Flynn beamed, patting my hand again. “Excellent. Tomorrow then. I’ll have one of my workers come to collect you with the trap.”

And he steered me back in the direction of the Whaler’s Arms, Ann wheeling around to follow.

When I stepped through the door of the tavern, I froze. Lieutenant Blackwell was sitting at the table closest to the door. I felt a jolt in my chest. His hair was slightly overgrown beneath his cocked hat, the arctic blue of his eyes stark against his tanned skin.

At the sight of me, he stood, his face giving nothing away.

Flynn glanced at Blackwell, then back at me. “Is there trouble?” he asked the lieutenant.

“There’s no trouble,” I garbled. “Lieutenant Blackwell is… He was kind enough to offer me lodgings in Parramatta.” I felt my cheeks blaze. “Lieutenant, this is my betrothed, Arthur Flynn.”

“You’re to be married?” A flicker of surprise passed over Blackwell’s eyes, but he blinked it away quickly.

“I am,” I managed. “Yes.” My mouth felt impossibly dry.

Blackwell’s jaw tightened the men shook hands. I could tell from Flynn’s welcoming smile he had no thought of what a man usually demanded of his lodger in Parramatta.

Blackwell turned away from Flynn and looked me square in the eyes. “It’s good to see you, Eleanor.”

I tried to swallow. I wasn’t sure the emotions roiling inside me could be described as good. “Lieutenant Harper told you how to find me?”

He nodded.

A stilted silence hung between us, punctuated by Charlie thumping a liquor barrel onto the shelf.

“Well then,” Flynn said brassily. “A drink then perhaps? What do you say, Lieutenant?”

Before either of us could reply, Flynn was herding us towards a larger table in the centre of the tavern. Ann followed his lead, plopping neatly into a chair between Blackwell and I.

Flynn hovered over me. “Tea for you, my dear?”

“This is a tavern,” I reminded him. “Tea isn’t on offer.” If I was going to stumble my way through this debacle I was going to need something far more mind-numbing than tea.

He waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. I’m sure Charlie will be quite happy to boil up a kettle for you. Won’t you, Charlie?”

He grinned. “I’ve heard your wife-to-be has a liking for things a little stronger.”

I shot him a glare.

Flynn smiled thinly at Charlie. “Tea will be just fine.”

With my betrothed at the bar, I turned to Blackwell. “Why are you in Sydney?” My voice was low and far more conspiratorial than I had intended. Ann’s eyes darted between us.

“I’ve completed my term of duty,” he told me. “I’m entitled to a discharge.”

In spite of myself, my stomach plunged. “You’re going back to England.”

He had brought me a sense of security, I realised then. Even with the Parramatta River between us, it had been reassuring to know Blackwell was in the colony with me. Reassuring to know I had the eye of such a powerful man.

I knew I was being foolish. I was to become another man’s wife. Blackwell was another woman’s husband. Neither of us had a place in the other’s thoughts.

I forced a smile. “Your wife will be very pleased to see you, I’m sure.”

No response.