A Changing Land by Nicole Alexander Read Free Book Online Page A

perhaps he feels ill-equipped to entertain without the advices of his good wife.’
    Hamish rubbed at his moustache. Having already made an offer to purchase Crawford Corner not twelve months prior, he was beginning to see the virtue in Claire’s relationship with the Englishman’s wife. ‘Mrs Crawford must despair of his ever returning to Sydney.’
    â€˜Indeed, one must wonder at his desire to remain on his holding with his younger daughter now married, his dear wife in Sydney and his sons with little interest in the property.’
    Hamish stretched his neck and shoulders. Perhaps the time was at hand to approach the man again. ‘I must agree with you on that account, Claire.’
    Claire tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. Perhaps later in the day she would wash her hair and perfume the final rinse with a few drops of lavender water. Then when the sun drew close to its midpoint she would fluff the long strands dry in the growing heat before retiring to the drawing room and her quilting. She should discuss dinner with Mrs Stackland. It was possible there was some tasty treat the woman could conjure. While she was not a fan of jugged wallaby, Hamish’s favourite dish, she was partial to roasted stubble quail, and a refreshing jelly would be a nice cooling dessert. In the midst of her thoughts Lee shuffled onto the verandah, a large tray clasped between his bony fingers. His knees, bowed by age, stuck out like those of a stick insectfrom beneath his tunic and he moved like a man who, although having seen too much, considered it an honour to have done so.
    With the tray finally deposited on the wicker table nearest Hamish, he took one sandalled step backwards and grinned. A silver teapot and a fine blue and white patterned cup and saucer sat next to a bowl of sugar, a pad of rich yellow butter and two thick chunks of fruit loaf.
    Claire gave Lee a grateful smile. ‘It would seem Lee had similar thoughts regarding your sustenance.’
    â€˜You like?’ Lee asked, all grin and horizontal wrinkles. His long bony fingers twisted in and out from beneath each other like garden worms as he snarled at the cat, which, in turn, hissed back. Claire showed her annoyance at this unnecessary exchange by placing her hand proprietarily on the tabby’s head.
    Hamish prodded the bread, cut a slice in half and smelled it appreciatively before spreading a generous amount of butter over the loaf. He devoured it quickly, licking his fingers as Lee poured the tea. ‘Excellent. You are an extraordinary cook, Lee. Mrs Stackland should be forever grateful for your presence.’
    Claire clutched at the cane under her hands. Sometimes she believed her husband cared more for the Chinaman than his own wife. Lee was not an employee, although Hamish provided for his every need. When it pleased him to oversee the kitchen he did just that; if he decided to spend days tending his formidable vegetable garden, that too was acceptable. If Lee was adamant about churning the butter, ensuring it was turned and well-aired in the pantry with the right amount of salt to taste, it was to the household’s good fortune and if he chose, as he did, to remain in a one-room bark hut beyond his vegetable patch instead of accepting a more comfortable iron roofed dwelling, well that was his decision too.
    Lee snarled at the tabby twice for good measure, bringing his hand down in a chopping movement. The cat jumped fromClaire’s lap and Lee’s eyelids flattened as his features elongated into a treacherous grin.
    â€˜No, Lee,’ Claire reprimanded. Lee bowed his head and took his leave. She was sure that were it not for her presence, cat stew would be on the menu. ‘Will Luke return in time for Christmas?’
    â€˜Of course,’ Hamish placated, aware his eldest would be holed up at the Wangallon Town Hotel for a time, no doubt dipping his wick before returning for Christmas.
    â€˜And may we