“I want to live. That’s all I ask, Mama. That I be allowed to live my life the way I want and not be shut off here at the estate to stagnate while the world goes on around me.” The angel overlooking the lake kept her silence and Gertrude rested her chin on her knees and let the tears flow freely down her cheeks. There was more to her mood than missing her mother. She feared she would die in this place without ever experiencing real life in the outside world. “I desperately want to do something, to be someone.”
In her heart of hearts all she could envisage in her future was years of boredom before being laid to rest on this small grassy knoll without experiencing any of the dreams that rolled through her mind.
Finally spent, Gertrude collected another bouquet of roses for the summerhouse. Dear Mama had gifted it to the girls when Wilz had reached her sixteenth birthday. “You’re both young ladies now. You need somewhere of your own to do what you will away from prying eyes. Why, I used to sneak off down here when I was your age, much to the despair of my governess. Grandpa banned her from the place. Said it was mine to do as I wanted and now I wish to give it to you, my darling daughters.”
Gertrude trimmed the flowers and made her way around the lake and through the forest, hoping to catch up with Wilz. Not that she’d said she would be there, but surely it was her laughter ringing out over the water before? It could be no other.
The door sat slightly ajar, as if someone had left in a hurry and forgotten to check it and pillows were askew on the day bed. A slight smell of woodsy aftershave lingered in the air along with another smell that she was sure she could identify. Chanel Number 5. Wilz had been here and not alone by the look of things.
Gertie put the flowers down and disposed of the wilted blooms in the vase by the day bed. The beautiful sampler quilt Mama had made lay wrinkled and mussed up and the cushions were all pushed to one side. What on earth had her big sister been up to and with whom?
* * *
Later that evening after she’d dressed for dinner, Gertrude knocked on Wilz’s bedroom door. “Come in.”
Wilhelmina sat in front of her mirror. Primrose, their Aboriginal maid fixed her ebony hair into yet another fashionable style she’d brought back from Sydney. When the final gem-embossed clip had been slid into place, she held the hand mirror up and inspected it. “Lovely. Thank you, Primrose. You may go now.”
“Yes, Miss.” Primrose curtsied and hurried away, closing the door behind her.
“What’s wrong? You have a positively dour expression on your face tonight.” She smoothed her fingers over the French roll, touched the jewelled clip holding it in place and watched her little sister in the mirror. She picked up her perfume bottle, spritzing her throat.
“I put flowers on Mama’s grave today.” Gertrude picked at the beading on her evening dress, rolling the small spheres around in her fingertips. “I heard you laughing. Where were you? I thought you’d be out on the estate with Papa. You usually come and see me if you’re handy.”
“Are you sure it was me?” Wilhelmina rested her hands on the back of the chair, a small smile touching her painted red lips.
“It sounded like you. I waited at the crypt, hoping you might come and sit with me.” She couldn’t keep the quiver from her voice and hated feeling so needy.
“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry.” Wilz glided over to sit beside her on the bed. Looping her arms around her younger sister, she held her close careful not to destroy Primrose’s hard work. “I didn’t think, too much on my mind with the estate and my impending trip to Sydney. So much to do before I leave.” The smell of Chanel Number 5 wafted over Gertrude’s face and she sank into her sister’s embrace, taking whatever comfort she had to share.
“I still miss her so much.” She sniffed. “Don’t tell Papa, please.”
“Don’t worry about that, my darling. He’s a crotchety old thing, and he’s getting worse.” She continued to hold her until the faint gong of the dinner bell sounded from downstairs. “Do you think you’ll be alright to go down? I can make excuses for you if you like?” Wilz wiped a finger under Gertrude’s eye, stopping the moisture that threatened to roll down her cheeks. “Tell Papa you have a headache coming on.”
“Best not. He’ll know I’m upset over Mama if I don’t show my face and there’ll be another argument. I can’t bear the thought of that tonight.” She sniffed again and tried to smile, failed when her lips wobbled and heaved a sigh of despair instead. “I just wish he would let me leave and go and do what I want. It would make everything so much easier if I could get away from here, try something new for a change. The memories might not haunt me quite so much.”
“Let me work on him. I need to go to Sydney the day after tomorrow for a meeting with one of Mama’s charities. I might suggest it’s time you came with me and learn that side of things and not limit yourself to the house duties. Surely he can’t complain about that.”
She raised her face, hope bursting in her
