‘Serena, come with me.’ Papa led her to his bedroom and dropped the hessian bag on his bed.
Usually when Papa returned from a trade journey he brought home a bag bulging with goods and gifts for his girls. Today the sack was limp and empty.
‘What is all this about, Papa? And who is that gentleman in the parlour?’
The weary man sighed and sat heavily upon the bed. ‘The storm blew us off course. We made it inside the heads and I thought we had escaped trouble, but we ran aground on a reef. I feared the schooner would break up and I called to abandon ship. We lowered the small boat and all eleven of us escaped. But the waves were so rough that some of us were thrown overboard.’
Serena clutched the fabric at her throat.
‘How did you get to shore?’
‘We weren’t far from land to begin with. The waves carried me and dumped me on a beach. I knew not where I was precisely, and I was so very tired from trying to stay afloat. I still don’t know if the other men made it safely. Neither do I know how badly damaged Fate Lucinda is.’ Papa ran a hand through his sand-matted hair.
‘You’re safe now, that’s all that matters.’ Serena reached out and squeezed his rough and calloused hand. ‘And never mind about the ship. We’ll manage.’
Serena mentally counted the provisions remaining in the larder, knowing supplies were low, but she refused to allow him to see her doubt.
‘Are you sure?’ Papa pressed his lips into a grim line.
She nodded at her father, hoping she looked convincing.
Serena studied her father’s face. The deep etches of angst still lined his forehead. ‘There’s more, isn’t there, Papa? The man in the parlour is not one of your crew, is he?’
He kept his eyes downcast, and patted the bed beside him. ‘You’d better sit, lass.’
Swallowing back a sudden urge to panic, Serena did as he suggested. What more could there be?
Papa cleared his throat and opened his mouth several times before he spoke. ‘I’ve been very foolish, my dear. You may never forgive me.’
‘Surely not too foolish Papa?’ she offered a weak smile. But the shadow on his countenance demanded seriousness. ‘Papa? What have you done?’
‘I don’t know where to start.’ Whatever had happened, it obviously grieved Papa.
‘At the beginning, Papa. That is always best.’
With a heavy sigh, her father launched into his tale.
‘As I said, I was washed ashore somewhere inside South Head. I rested briefly before heading inland through thick brush. The rain was so heavy.
‘At last I pushed into a clearing. More than a clearing, actually. It was the grounds of a large property, in the midst of which stood a huge house. Naturally, I saw it as shelter. As I approached, I saw that the front door stood wide open. I called at the doorway but there was no answer. The noise of the storm no doubt drowned out any sound I made.
‘After waiting a few minutes, I decided that the residents could not take offence if I took shelter from the storm inside their entryway. I was soaked through, so I found the nearest fire and tried to warm myself. The storm continued to pound against the roof and after a while I became curious and ventured further into the house. I discovered a dining room with a fresh meal laid out. Still, not a soul appeared, even when I called.
‘At least fifteen minutes passed while I stood there, my stomach reminding me I had not eaten since early in the morning. I succumbed to my hunger. Do you blame me?’
Papa stopped there and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face.
Serena gaped at him. Although shocked that he had helped himself to a stranger’s table, she supposed it was understandable. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, Papa. The owners must be very ungracious if they are so heartless as to turn away a half-starved victim of a shipwreck.’
‘But that’s not all,’ he mumbled through his hands.
There was more? Serena swallowed, becoming uneasy.
Papa lifted his head, his face filled with shame. ‘After eating, I continued to explore the house since the storm still raged outside with thunder and lightning. I found a display of beautiful miniature paintings. Not portraits of people, mind you, they were roses.’
He paused and his Adam’s apple convulsed as he swallowed hard. Papa rushed on, blurting out his confession. ‘I remembered that you asked me to bring you a rose. You never ask for much and I wanted to give you something special. There were so many of them and I foolishly thought they wouldn’t miss one. Surely not one tiny rose among so many. I was tucking it into my coat pocket when there he was.’
Papa’s face paled and his eyes widened as he looked at her.
‘Who, Papa?’
‘The owner of the house. Edward King.’
Serena sucked in a deep breath, aghast. ‘Edward King, the architect? You stole from him?’
‘I didn’t realise it was him. Or his house. And he was unrecognisable when I saw him. He’d obviously been caught out in the storm, too. Water dripped from every part of him, leaving puddles in his wake. He was enraged, Serena. I can’t tell you ...’
‘What happened, Papa?’ She slipped off the chair to kneel before him and placed her hands on his knees, the coarse weave of his trousers rough beneath her fingers.
He shook his head, his face contorted with grief. ‘He threatened to haul me before the magistrate and have me imprisoned at the penal settlement.’
‘No, Papa.’ The blood drained from Serena’s face and a wave of dizziness engulfed her. ‘They can’t take you away from us. We need you.’
‘I begged and pleaded with him, but he refused to hear me.’
Serena’s hands fell from Papa’s knees as he stood. Her mind filled with questions that stampeded one over another in
