Miss Wilz was taking them orphans on an outing, such a tragedy when she was only doing her mother’s charity work.
Which would mean she’d made her way there, met the orphans and boarded a train to the destination when the accident happened. So, if Billie went to Sydney but didn’t get on the next train, she should be safe.
But that wouldn’t solve her problems. It wouldn’t get her home, nor would it help her understand what was happening. The only thing that made sense was her determination to find out what really happened to Wilhelmina. It seemed such a mystery, and since she was an investigative reporter, then she should be the one to use all her skills to uncover the truth. But Billie had been wrong before.
Something was definitely off. Why on earth would Wilz leave her handbag behind and not tell Primrose that she was going? That was the trigger. Leaving without saying anything was out of character. Another trigger. And why would it take so long for her body to be identified if everyone knew she was the one taking the children on the outing?
As far as Billie could remember, there was no Mrs. Smythe among the dead and she’d sent the invitation this morning. She was certain Mrs. Smythe’s name wasn’t on the list of the dead or injured, she would have remembered it. Surely if they knew where the children had come from, her name would have come up in conversation with the police and the orphanage? Something certainly wasn’t right. Surely she wasn’t the only one apart from Primrose who thought something didn’t add up?
The more Billie thought about it, the more she became convinced something suspicious had happened to Wilz. But why? Was it to stop her marrying her cousin? Even though the Married Women’s Property Act would have been in force by then, perhaps she would have been sufficiently in love to let him do as he wished with the estate.
What had really happened in the war? Papa came back from overseas wounded and his older brother had been killed. Would he talk about it to her if she asked? It was worth trying. It might give her a clearer picture of why he didn’t want her to marry Ernest if nothing else, and it would all be good backstory for her article – that’s if she ever made it home.
She pondered her options. Really must get hold of the family bible. They tended to be a minefield of information. Billie stood up and left her bedroom. As she walked down the hallway, a door opened and Primrose stepped out.
“Miss Wilhelmina. I just coming to do your room for you. Miss Gertrude’s all done now.”
“No problem, Primrose. I want to go to Papa’s sitting room and look something up in one of his books. Take your time.” She carried until she came to the door. When Billie opened the door, it was almost a let-down to see the room was clean and the fire brightly burning in the grate. She sucked down a quick shot of pain. She would have preferred to see the dust over everything and the drapes faded and ragged with age.
She wandered over, casting her gaze along the rows of books until she found what she was looking for. Billie opened the door and took down the thick bible. She cradled it in her hands and chose a chair the fireplace, sinking down facing the flames and opened the cover.
When she checked her watch a short time later, she found she’d been reading for over an hour. A tap at the door and Primrose poked her head in. “Lunch ready, Miss. Cook get cranky if you don’t eat.”
“Of course, Primrose. I’m sorry.” She stood, placed the bible on the table, determined to come back and have another look later once things had settled in her mind. She followed the maid out of the room, closed the door behind her and skipped down the stairs to the dining room.
Papa was seated at the table and frowned when she opened the door. Obviously he disliked her being tardy. “Did you sort out the tractor parts?” Her father glanced at her before taking another sip of soup.
She walked over to her seat and sat down, gave a smile to her sister. “Yes. Yes, I did.” She sniffed appreciatively over the bowl of soup. “This smells good.”
Papa glowered over the table at her, a cold steely look in his eyes. “I don’t want you taking up Hughes’ time when you can do your own work. You wanted this job, it’s up to you to do it without dragging my men into it when you feel like it. The man has enough to do.”
Billie stared at him, decided it was time to step up and act as Wilhelmina did, forceful and determined according to Primrose and Gertie. “Be that as it may, Papa, I had a nasty fall and don’t feel up to doing it by myself. Either he helps me or I leave it till I do feel better.” She dropped her gaze and picked up her spoon, dipping it into her soup while Gertie sat quietly opposite her. “Your call.”
He bristled and grunted and she ignored him, choosing to treat him like a cranky youngster.
“What have you been doing this morning, Gertie?”
She seemed taken back, glanced between her father and Billie and put down her spoon. “Well, I’ve taken a stroll around the rose gardens, spoken to Wilkes about Mama’s roses and counted the linen for Mrs. Hughes.”
“Sounds wonderful if not rather boring, darling.” Billie pushed away her bowl, suddenly not hungry. She felt at ease in the role of older sister, a sense of calm rolling over her shoulders like a warm blanket. “I might go and rest this afternoon. My head really does seem to
