I had been here a week. It seemed like a month. I went out riding a great deal. Felicity always came with me. Often I thought she was on the verge of confiding in me; but she never did. I had made up my mind that I would tell her I must go and if she hated it so much she must come with me.
I was not sure of the wisdom of advising a wife to leave her husband.
Meanwhile I was rather fascinated by the country. It was one of contrasts. There was so much that was beautiful. I gasped with pleasure when I saw the flame trees with their bright coral-coloured flowers and a flight of the grey rose-crested cockatoos which they called galahs. That was sheer beauty. Then there were the miles and miles of scrub land and the swarms of insects unlike anything we had ever encountered at home, like the hairy nannies, little centipedes which came into the house—and the interminable flies. Millie Maken went about watchfully, silent-footed and resentful of us, I believed; but what I disliked most was the presence of William Granville.
It was a night when I had completed my week. The men were outside drinking and talking. I could hear the sudden bursts of laughter. It was almost midnight.
I always felt uneasy until I heard William Granville go to the room he shared with Felicity, and it was only some little time after the door shut on him that I felt safe to sleep. There was no key to my door and I was afraid that he might come into my room.
He lumbered up the stairs, muttering to himself, so I guessed that he had been drinking more than usual.
I heard the bedroom door shut behind him. I lay there telling myself again that surely now I could begin to plan my departure and I came to the decision that I would speak to Felicity in the morning.
As I lay there, thinking of what I would say, I heard a door open. I was alert immediately. I got out of bed, waiting.
The doors were ill-fitting and there was a crack at the side through which I could see into the passage. My heart missed a beat. Coming along the passage was William Granville clad in a nightshirt which reached to his knees. I shivered with apprehension. I was ready to defend myself and I thought: Now I shall go in the morning.
He had paused and was opening a door halfway down the passage. It was Mrs. Maken's.
He went in.
I leaned against the door breathing heavily with relief. It was confirming only what I had guessed already. At least he was not attempting to come to my room.
So ... Mrs. Maken was his mistress; hence her resentment at the intrusion of his wife. This was monstrous. Under the very roof and only a few doors from that room in which his wife lay!
"The man is a monster," I said to myself.
It was no use trying to sleep. I wrapped a dressing gown round me and sat by the window.
The bright starlight gave a weird look to the country. I could see grey eucalypts in the distance—like ghostly sentinels.
I must do something, I thought. I have to go, but I can't leave Felicity unprotected.
Then suddenly I had an idea.
I took out writing paper and pen. It was just light enough for me to be able to see.
I wrote:
"Dear Raymond,
"I am very anxious. There is something very wrong here. This marriage was a great mistake. It is not just a matter of fitting into a new way of life and a new country. Felicity is frightened. And I understand why.
"Life here is crude. Felicity would find it very difficult to adjust herself even if she had a good husband. But William Granville is a monster. I know that sounds exaggerated but I do believe it to be so. He is unfaithful to her. There is a housekeeper here who, I am sure, has been his mistress and still is. She resents Felicity and at the moment I am writing this, which must be one o'clock in the morning here, he is with the housekeeper. I want to leave, but Felicity begs me not to. I don't see how I can stay here but when I talk of leaving she is almost hysterical. She has changed a great deal.
"I think something must be done. Raymond, you have been so good. You have helped me in so many ways. What can be done? Unfortunately Miss Cartwright had to go home. You will know that by now and Felicity has no one to protect her from this man she has married. Please help her. She needs someone to look after her.
"I will stay as long as I can, but life is very awkward here for me in this house. I am ill at ease with her husband and I find him most offensive.
"Please Raymond, this is a cri de coeur. Advise me what to do. I want her to leave but she has a strong sense of duty. He is, after all, her husband.
"I am writing this in my room, in the dark more or less. There is just enough light from the stars—they are brilliant here—to write.
"I feel desperate. Perhaps I shall feel differently in the morning, but I think I shall post this letter however I feel for 1 know when night comes I shall wish I had. I want you to know what it is like here.
"Writing to you has made me feel much better. It is like talking to you.
"I have made a little progress in my search. I think I mentioned to you in my letter which I posted in Sydney, that we had met a man named Milton Harrington. Miss Cartwright will have told you about him, I expect. He helped her to get a passage to England from Cape Town. Well, he remembered Philip's staying in a hotel on the island where he has a sugar plantation. It's a place called Cariba. I thought I would go there when I get away from here, but I want first to see David Gutheridge if possible. He is the botanist with whom Philip came out. I called at the Botanical Association's headquarters when I was in Sydney and they knew approximately where he was and when he will be back ... say in a month. I would really like to talk to him before I go to Cariba. Philip stayed at the hotel there according to Mr. Harrington. There is a hotel on the island. Some of the people there must have known him. So I am making progress ... but slowly.
"My main worry is Felicity. I wish you were here. You would know what ought to be done.
"It would be wonderful to see you and talk to you. Then everything would seem sane and normal.
"I hope this doesn't sound hysterical. But I really am worried.
"Your loving Annalice."
I sealed the letter.
Tomorrow was Wednesday. One of the days the coach called, and the coach would take the mail to Sydney—and from there it would be shipped to England.
It would be a long time before that letter reached Raymond; but it must go tomorrow and I must be at the inn before ten o'clock. I must not miss the coach.
One of the stockmen took the letters into the township when he collected any that might have come. But I was not going to trust this one to him. William Granville might be curious to see what I was writing about. I could suspect him of opening letters and reading them. I was sure he would stop at nothing.
I went back to bed. There had been no sound in the passage all the time I had been writing and I had been alert, listening. It was clear that William Granville was spending the night with his housekeeper.
Finally I slept.
I awakened early for the events of last night must have been on my mind.
I went downstairs. Mrs. Maken was not there, as she usually was. The fire was out. There was a spirit stove, so I made some coffee and taking one of yesterday's dampers spread a little butter on it.
That would suffice.
Felicity joined me. She looked a little better, I thought. She had
been spared the attentions of her husband last night which must have been a great relief. I imagined she would be delighted if he spent his nights with an obliging housekeeper.
I said: "I have a fancy for an early morning ride. I've written a letter and I want to take it into the township. It's Wednesday, so I can catch the coach."