her fantasy world: she could experience the real thing.
She returned to the trunk, gathered up all the ledgers and brought them outside. The diaries would need to be sorted through for they were obviously not in sequential order.
Spreading them out on the front steps, she checked the dates – where she could find them for many entries were undated – then she placed the ledgers in sequence and looked at her watch. It was a good hour or so before lunch would be served at The Big House. She couldn’t resist.
13 avril 1888
Once again Kate read slowly, translating each word with care.
I write this in the empty ledgers that Jim is happy to supply. He thinks that my scribbling will keep me happy, distract me from the loneliness of my surrounds, and I can only pray that he proves right. My scribbles will of course remain in French. There is no one in the household acquainted with the language and I intend to be honest. I must. Otherwise this exercise will be fruitless. Only truth can provide the escape I need . . .
C HAPTER THREE
My father sold me to James Durham. Papa denies this of course, but I know it to be true. I openly accused him . . .
‘Don’t be ridiculous, child.’ André Desmarais scoffed at his daughter’s accusation. In fact he did more than scoff, he threw back his huge bearded head and laughed out loud. ‘What a fanciful creature you are,
ma petite
. James Durham loves you. He’s loved you from the moment he first met you, he told me so. He’s simply been waiting for you to come of age. And he’s a wealthy man – he will make a great match, you couldn’t do better for yourself.’
‘I am to interpret that as a denial, I presume?’
‘Of course you are.’ In the light of her coldness, André realised he could not afford to be glib. ‘Now you listen to me, Elianne, I am agreeing to this marriage for your own good. James Durham can offer you a life of privilege in Australia, a life no prospective suitor from around these parts could provide. It is your future I am thinking of. Why otherwise would I deprive myself of my only child? With your mother now gone who will look after me in my declining years?’
‘A noble sacrifice indeed, Papa,’ her tone remained icy. ‘So no money is changing hands?’
‘Not one sou, I swear it.’
Elianne knew better than to push the matter any further; her father would continue to deny a transaction was taking place, and perhaps he wasn’t even lying. Perhaps no money was changing hands, at least not in the physical sense. But she wondered just how much of the considerable financial debt he owed James Durham might be dropped upon his agreement to her marriage.
‘Very well,’ she said with a disdainful shrug, ‘if you are happy for your daughter to wed such a man, who am I to disobey your wishes? I don’t care either way personally, but I warn you, you are the one who will bear the shame.’
For all her disdain, Elianne did care, but she was not about to share the fact with her father. The truth was she found James Durham attractive, despite her aversion to his rumoured background. Furthermore, his offer of marriage held definite appeal, for since the death of her beloved mother, Beatrice, life on the coconut plantation had become intolerable. These days, her father kept open house for his raucous drunken gambling companions, rough men employed by the Compagnie Calédonienne des Nouvelle Hébrides to oversee the company’s extensive interests in the islands. The men would invariably stay overnight, and no longer were they accommodated in the nearby guesthouse as they had been in Beatrice’s time, if indeed they’d been invited at all. Rather, they would stay in the main house. A comfortable sprawling bungalow, the main house had a number of guest rooms, and Elianne was forced to endure the men’s company at close quarters. She detested the way they ogled her. But she detested far more the way her father allowed it. Her father actually appeared
She returned to the trunk, gathered up all the ledgers and brought them outside. The diaries would need to be sorted through for they were obviously not in sequential order.
Spreading them out on the front steps, she checked the dates – where she could find them for many entries were undated – then she placed the ledgers in sequence and looked at her watch. It was a good hour or so before lunch would be served at The Big House. She couldn’t resist.
13 avril 1888
Once again Kate read slowly, translating each word with care.
I write this in the empty ledgers that Jim is happy to supply. He thinks that my scribbling will keep me happy, distract me from the loneliness of my surrounds, and I can only pray that he proves right. My scribbles will of course remain in French. There is no one in the household acquainted with the language and I intend to be honest. I must. Otherwise this exercise will be fruitless. Only truth can provide the escape I need . . .
C HAPTER THREE
My father sold me to James Durham. Papa denies this of course, but I know it to be true. I openly accused him . . .
‘Don’t be ridiculous, child.’ André Desmarais scoffed at his daughter’s accusation. In fact he did more than scoff, he threw back his huge bearded head and laughed out loud. ‘What a fanciful creature you are,
ma petite
. James Durham loves you. He’s loved you from the moment he first met you, he told me so. He’s simply been waiting for you to come of age. And he’s a wealthy man – he will make a great match, you couldn’t do better for yourself.’
‘I am to interpret that as a denial, I presume?’
‘Of course you are.’ In the light of her coldness, André realised he could not afford to be glib. ‘Now you listen to me, Elianne, I am agreeing to this marriage for your own good. James Durham can offer you a life of privilege in Australia, a life no prospective suitor from around these parts could provide. It is your future I am thinking of. Why otherwise would I deprive myself of my only child? With your mother now gone who will look after me in my declining years?’
‘A noble sacrifice indeed, Papa,’ her tone remained icy. ‘So no money is changing hands?’
‘Not one sou, I swear it.’
Elianne knew better than to push the matter any further; her father would continue to deny a transaction was taking place, and perhaps he wasn’t even lying. Perhaps no money was changing hands, at least not in the physical sense. But she wondered just how much of the considerable financial debt he owed James Durham might be dropped upon his agreement to her marriage.
‘Very well,’ she said with a disdainful shrug, ‘if you are happy for your daughter to wed such a man, who am I to disobey your wishes? I don’t care either way personally, but I warn you, you are the one who will bear the shame.’
For all her disdain, Elianne did care, but she was not about to share the fact with her father. The truth was she found James Durham attractive, despite her aversion to his rumoured background. Furthermore, his offer of marriage held definite appeal, for since the death of her beloved mother, Beatrice, life on the coconut plantation had become intolerable. These days, her father kept open house for his raucous drunken gambling companions, rough men employed by the Compagnie Calédonienne des Nouvelle Hébrides to oversee the company’s extensive interests in the islands. The men would invariably stay overnight, and no longer were they accommodated in the nearby guesthouse as they had been in Beatrice’s time, if indeed they’d been invited at all. Rather, they would stay in the main house. A comfortable sprawling bungalow, the main house had a number of guest rooms, and Elianne was forced to endure the men’s company at close quarters. She detested the way they ogled her. But she detested far more the way her father allowed it. Her father actually appeared
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