“Please, dear Primrose, don’t fret. I’m hardly likely to repeat this discussion. I’m in your debt for being so candid. Please, continue. Leave nothing out. I want your observations of us all, including anything you care to say about Cousin Ernest.”
She hoped she wouldn’t regret that last remark. The more she knew about Wilz life, the deeper she fell into the role of the other woman.
Chapter 15
Singleton 1940
Disappointment hit her hard when she opened her eyes the following morning. She’d expected to find herself in the motel in Singleton.
She’d read about people who had split personalities, MPD Multiple Personality Disorder. Perhaps this was her lot and she was escaping to a happier time. Would it be easier to give in and accept it or should she fight to retain the memory of the person she was? The thought tugged at her while she lay snuggled up under the quilt. She still remembered that she had a son, Alex, and her husband had died suddenly, but nothing else came readily to mind to give her more of an inkling of who she was. That little snippet of memory seemed to have faded with the darkness of the previous night sky.
But was that really her life or had she dreamed that one as well? It was becoming increasingly hard to figure out which was the real her. Neither felt any more real than the other although she knew where she felt the most comfortable.
Ernest reminded her over breakfast that she’d promised him time to talk. “Shall we say, in an hour in the forest at our place?”
Her skin prickled. “Our place?”
He glanced at her, a frown on his face. Before he could reply, the butler brought in a letter on a silver platter and handed it to her. “Mail, Miss.”
She reached out and took the envelope. “It’s been opened already.”
Ernest laughed as the butler left the room. “Your dear papa. He cannot trust anyone. If only his actions were pure.”
Slipping the letter out of the open envelope, she quickly read the contents. An invitation to tea in Sydney in two weeks’ time to discuss an idea regarding the orphanage and its inhabitants. Signed by Mrs. Carmen Smythe. She folded the page, slid it back in the envelope and placed it beside her plate. The cup of tea in front of her was a distraction she needed. She picked up the fine china cup, trying to make plans for the day that didn’t include Ernest.
“Well, my beloved. You did promise me and I think I deserve an hour of your time. Surely Uncle Jacob can spare you this morning? I don’t know why you let him boss you around like he does. Stand up for yourself, Wilz, tell him who’s in charge like you used to. You’ve gone soft in your old age, my dear girl.”
She put down the cup and lifted the napkin to dab at her mouth forming the words in her mind. “Let’s leave Papa out of this, shall we? Keep to what you suggested earlier, meeting you for a chat at our special place. Let me reply to this invitation and I can meet you shortly. But I must not be long, there is much to do today.” And most of that will be without him hanging around.
“Delightful. I’ll be waiting for you.” He winked and threw his napkin on the table before pushing back his chair and striding out of the dining room. A shiver ran over her skin. Was it one of disgust or something else? Funnily enough she couldn’t quite tell.
“Oh, Wilz, there you are. I’m so glad I caught you. I didn’t mean to sleep in, but yesterday was rather exhausting. How is your head this morning?”
“Much better. My memory is still rather muddled, but that’s to be expected, I think.”
“We can work with that, my dear sister. What are your plans for the day?” Gertie pulled out her chair and sat down opposite and reached for the teapot.
“I believe Papa said something last night about me organising to send someone to Singleton to pick up parts for the tractor. I have an invitation to reply to and Ernest has requested my company for a chat.”
“Ah, yes. Dear Cousin Ernest. I bet he’s going to pressure you into giving him his answer. Don’t let Papa catch you using Mama’s summerhouse for such a liaison when you know his feelings about it.” She reached for the silver teapot and poured herself a cup.
“What answer?”
“You know, Wilz. His, ‘will you marry me’ answer,” Gertie whispered dramatically as she glanced around the room. “The same question he’s been asking you for the last couple of years now. You know Papa will snap if you say yes.”
“Will he now? I’d like to know why.” She took a slice of toast from the rack and dropped it on her plate before reaching for the butter dish.
“Silly you. Of course you know why. Papa thinks he’s only marrying you for your inheritance and nothing more. I don’t think that’s true at all, Ernest loves you. Anyone can see that by the way he looks at you. Those big puppy dog eyes of his. But, you have to admit that his family do seem to go through their money rather fast.” Gertie reached for the remaining slice of toast, broke it into pieces on her plate before reaching for the butter dish. She dropped a curl of butter on the side of her plate. “Why, his mother has far more new clothes than you ever do and they don’t have an income as such. I bet it won’t be long before they come knocking on the door asking for another loan to pay the bills, a loan that will never be paid back like the last one. Frivolous, Papa says. He’s worried
