Chapters (41)
- COVER PAGE
- PRAISE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- NOTE
- CHAPTER ONE: THE NOBLE LEGACY
- CHAPTER TWO: FROG HOLLOW
- CHAPTER THREE: THE RUM HOSPITAL
- CHAPTER FOUR: A HIGH IN THE BIGHT
- CHAPTER FIVE: ALWAYS DIFFERENT, ALWAYS THE SAME
- CHAPTER SIX: A DEAD CLERK
- CHAPTER SEVEN: THE CLEVER LIE
- CHAPTER EIGHT: A PLACE I CAN NEITHER SPELL NOR PRONOUNCE
- CHAPTER NINE: TRAVERSING THE DOMAIN
- CHAPTER TEN: THIS IS NOT IMPERIAL RUSSIA
- CHAPTER ELEVEN: ANGEL OF MERCY
- CHAPTER TWELVE: HARD LABOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN: CORANGAMITE
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THRIVE
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE RESPECTABLE ESTABLISHMENT
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN: CINNAMON BISCUITS
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE WIFE OF THE MINISTER
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: DO NOT TAKE OUR WORD FOR IT
- CHAPTER NINETEEN: OFFENCES AGAINST THE PERSON
- CHAPTER TWENTY: THE LETHARGY OF INDIFFERENCE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: DECEIT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: ANY TRAIN TO EMU PLAINS
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: DECEIT II
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: FLASH FLOOD
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: INDISPOSED
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: NO BABIES HERE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: LARGE EVENTS AND SMALL DETAILS
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: THE BABY FARM
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: STAGE FRIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY: UNTETHERED
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: WATERLOO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: THE TRANSIENCE OF ALL THINGS
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: ASYLUM
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: BITTER
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: FEDERATION
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
He found he did not know how to address her.
‘Eleanor. My dear. You are unharmed? I am afraid I could not locate you in all this mayhem. Were you alarmed?’
‘Alasdair. I believe I was very much alarmed. I looked for you inside.’
Eleanor did not look alarmed. Her expression was difficult to read; some immense emotion swirled just below the surface, he fancied, though he could not label it fear and had no other name for it. She watched him as though from a very great distance.
‘Are you alright, sir?’ said Greensmith, hovering a little in the manner of a subordinate who, in the face of danger, had found himself absent from his master’s side and was now anxious to make amends. Not that anxious, perhaps, for Greensmith, a young man of pleasing if somewhat bland features, of average stature and clothed conservatively in the best coat and hat that a man on a secretary’s salary might afford, remained steadfastly at Mrs Dunlevy’s side as though he had been posted there.
‘Quite alright, Greensmith, as you see. Come, Eleanor, let us go. There is nothing to be gained by remaining here. A lot of silly talk, in fact, that I think it might be best to avoid.’
Eleanor did not enquire what the silly talk was of and he was thankful, for he did not wish to tell her. She had her coat on already and a fur pulled closely about her neck against the chill night air outside. She had been leaving then—without him? Or had she stood here to await him? He did not know.
‘It will be a devil of a job finding a cab,’ he said instead, finding safety in platitudes, and he left her and went down the front steps just as if he intended to stand in the wind and the rain hailing a cab himself. Greensmith had an umbrella ready in his hands but, instead of following, his secretary opened the umbrella over his wife’s head, though she was quite sheltered from the weather on the covered verandah. Irritated, Alasdair summoned a footman and ordered him to find a cab. He rejoined his wife and secretary, and they stood silently staring ahead of them, the rain beating on the roof above.