Heart of the Outback (44 page)

As the party began to wind down Francey saw her parents to one of the suites in the mini conference centre.

“
Che bella
,” Lucia exclaimed as she walked around the suite, admiring the luxurious decor. She had never stayed in such opulence before and was in awe.

“You did all this,
cara
?” Carlo asked as his large hands waved effusively about the room.

Francey explained. “Not the actual work, but the planning, down to the last detail.” Her smile widened. “That’s what an architect does, you know.”

He nodded his head thoughtfully, as if finally understanding exactly what she did for a living. His dark-eyed gaze roamed about the room, taking it all in. “
Sì, capisco.
You are very good at what you do,” he pronounced.

“Of course she is,” Lucia fussed, then she asked. “Do you think anyone would mind if I used the spa? I’ve never had a spa bath before.”

“Mamma, use whatever you like. That’s what it’s here for.”

“Tomorrow Les promised to take us up in the helicopter for a tour of the property. Isn’t that kind of him?” Carlo informed.

“You’ll enjoy that. Murrundi is a big place.”

“He’s going to show us where you got lost in the bush.” Lucia’s eyes narrowed. “That woman, Natalie, I would like to have her alone in a room for two minutes. To give her a piece of my mind.”

“Mamma, don’t. That’s all over, long ago.” Francey thought for a moment and then she confided
in her parents. “That episode is the least of Natalie’s problems at the moment. I’m sure that tonight’s news, about my relationship to CJ, has shocked and surprised Natalie, as it has most people. I think CJ was remiss in not, somehow, including her in the whole event. She must be feeling a little left out of things.” It was odd in a way but despite Natalie’s nastiness and rudeness to her she did feel that CJ was treating her harshly.

“Ahh! There you go, being kind again,
cara
,” Carlo said. “It is a good trait, my child, but I would not spend too much time worrying about that Natalie. From what I saw of her she looks able to look after herself. A tough little number, in fact.”

“I agree,” said Lucia with a dismissive sniff.

Francey stifled a yawn. “It’s getting late. I’ll let you two get to bed. Breakfast will be late tomorrow. Come over when you feel like it.”

“Buona notte, cara
, sleep well.”

Should he try to talk to Francey? He wanted to. CJ paced the bedroom floor, hands behind his back, striding out. Seven paces to the right, turn, six paces to the left.

Commonsense told him he should allow things to settle, let Francey become accustomed to her new station in life in her own good time. But then, he grimaced to himself, time was a luxury he simply didn’t have. He had gained a little time by going to Geneva. The headaches and many of the other symptoms had receded to a bearable level. But for how long?

After watching her surreptitiously for most of the evening, he had kept his distance even though what
he wanted to do more than anything else was to hug her to him and be able to call her “daughter”,
his
daughter. He smiled widely and, despite his anxieties was pleased with himself. Francey was all and more than he had hoped for in a child. She showed such promise and in many ways they were so alike. But she also had a lot of her mother in her … the good traits. Gentleness. Understanding. The capacity for love. She would make a great successor when his race was run.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table 3 a.m. Maybe it was Francey!

“Come in.”

Natalie thrust the door open wide and stepped inside.

“You bastard. How could you?”

She came and stood in front of him. She was tall enough for their eyes to be level with each other. Her hands drew up to her hips and her legs were thrust wide apart in an aggressive stance. “How could you entertain the idea of your little bastard being welcomed with open arms into this house, this community? Where’s your sense of propriety, CJ? I always admired your thoughts on propriety.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Damned right I am,” she mumbled, her voice moving up half an octave. “I reckon I’ve a bloody right to be after tonight’s performance. So Francey’s your
love child
.” Her glance swept over him. “You dirty old man. No, sorry, you were a young man then. When you were engaged to my mother, penning her loving letters from your bloody cave in Coober,
you were screwing a half-caste bitch. Oh, yes, I found out she was part Aboriginal, Les obligingly told me.”

CJ’s hand rose to strike her but stopped centimetres from contact with her cheek. “Drunk or not I’ll not have you talk about Francey, or Mary, like that. Mary was a fine young woman whose life was tragically cut short.” His lip curled in derision as he made the observation. “You always did have a dirty tongue and a dirty mind.”

Natalie, who’d flinched as his large hand had come towards her, took a backwards step. Her grey eyes blazed with all the repressed anger she’d bottled inside her for months. “Since Richard’s death I’ve been the rightful heir, everyone says so. You’re going to give her what’s rightfully mine. Do you think mother would approve of that? I’m damn sure she wouldn’t. You wouldn’t be where you are today without the deWitt money.
She
doesn’t deserve any of it. Shit, you think I should be pleased about that possibility?”

CJ’s eyes narrowed on her disdainfully. “Don’t presume to think you know what I plan to do and …” he added forcefully, “whether you approve or not, Murrundi and my fortune belong to me, to do with as I please. You have no control over it, understand?”

“Is everything all right?” came a voice from the doorway. Francey, barefoot and in her bathrobe, stood in the open doorway.

On recognising the voice, Natalie spun about, wobbling unsteadily. “Right? No, you bastard, everything’s not right. You’re not right. You shouldn’t be here … you … shit-faced usurper. Why don’t you go back to Sydney where you belong.”

“Take no notice of her, she’s drunk,” CJ said, his tone dark with disapproval. “I suggest,” but it was more of an order, “Natalie, that you return to your room and sleep it off. We’ll talk about rights, your rights as you perceive them, in the morning.”

But Natalie was too drunk to recognise the steel in her stepfather’s tone. Her chin pointed upwards stubbornly as she jabbed his chest with a finger. “Damn you, CJ, I’m sick of you always calling the shots. I want to talk about it
now.
”

“Well, I don’t,” he said coldly. “The matter’s closed till the morning.”

“Natalie,” Francey tried to intervene. She could see the coldness in CJ’s eyes and knew that if Natalie pushed him too far she’d later regret it. She half turned to see Les and Shellie coming down the hall, disturbed by the commotion and moved forward to take Natalie by the arm. “Come out to the kitchen, Natalie, I’ll make us a cup of coffee.”

“Don’t touch me you bitch. Everything was fine until you came along!” Natalie yelled and lunged at Francey, catching her off-guard and tangling her left hand in her dark curls. The other hand dealt her a stinging blow to the side of her face. Francey’s head rocked sideways and her eyes watered.

Before she could land another blow CJ grabbed Natalie by her forearms and roughly pushed her past Francey and out the doorway towards Shellie. He saw the red welt on Francey’s face and it took all his self-control not to retaliate. Barely controlling his anger, he shouted, “Get her out of my sight before I do something I’ll regret!”

It took both Les and Shellie to lead a disturbed, still angry Natalie who was yelling incoherently at CJ, back to her room.

CJ, embarrassed, looked at Francey. “Are you all right?” He watched her nod mutely. “I’m sorry you had to experience that. Do you want to come in and talk?”

She shook her head as she gently massaged the mark on her cheek. “It’s late. I think we’d both better try and get some sleep. Your house guests will be up and about for breakfast by around 9 a.m.”

“All right. We’ll talk in the morning.” As he watched her turn away and return to her room his gaze remained thoughtful. She was having difficulty adjusting to all she’d learned tonight. That was to be expected. Having her parents here would help her through it, he hoped. Just now there’d been a look in her eyes that told him as eloquently as words could to give her some space. He would.

By 6 a.m. Francey gave up the idea of getting any useful rest. She had tried, but as soon as her head hit the pillow the memories of the evening’s events, the words, everything flooded through her mind.
She was CJ Ambrose’s love child.
Incredible. And he’d probably known it from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Sneaky so-and-so. He’d been watching, judging and testing her from day one. Unbelievable … but true. Her parents had said so, and after talking privately to Roy Preston the evidence was irrefutable.

That CJ Ambrose was her father was harder to accept than the fact that she was part Aboriginal. She
didn’t mind that at all. It explained some things that had puzzled her for several months. Her almost instant love of the land, the real feeling she had for it, for being a part of it. As well as how she loved to listen to Alison and Billy Wontow tell stories about their tribe and their customs. Some inner part of her had unconsciously responded to it all.

But deep inside her resided a sadness for never having known the woman who had given her life. Lucia had spoken of Mary Williams so fondly, and even CJ… Her gaze hardened. What a selfish, ruthless individual. Callously walking away all those years ago. She hoped he’d suffered feelings of remorse. A lot. He had a great deal to answer for. He’d destroyed Mary’s life, turned her own upside down and had even wrought havoc on her adoptive parents lives. Anger bubbled up inside her again. Why had he done this? So he could get what he wanted, whatever that was!

Giving up the idea of sleeping, she got up and dressed. Jeans, sweater, denim jacket; late autumn mornings were cool on Murrundi. She went out to the stables and saddled Astra. A brisk, morning ride would clear the cobwebs and, hopefully, settle her inner turmoil.

She rode north, keeping the distant line of trees that marked the creek in view. By now she was familiar with the landscape around Murrundi but as her horse picked its way along she unconsciously found herself heading towards the homestead’s cemetery.

Inside, an extreme restlessness had taken control, thoughts pulling her this way and that. She reined in near the aluminium fence and dismounted. Dew was
still on the grass but she didn’t care. She went and sat beside Richard Ambrose’s grave and, reading the words inscribed on the headstone she slowly let out a heartfelt sigh. Then her gaze moved to the one for young Miles. Her half-brothers. She had never had the opportunity to know them, or they her. Would they have liked each other, she wondered? Her gaze returned to Richard’s grave. If he were still alive, she thought with a wry twist to her mouth, she wouldn’t be sitting here. None of last night’s revelations would have occurred and she’d probably still be working for Aden. Richard’s death had been the catalyst that had spurred CJ into seeking out the past and all that followed.

Why had CJ revealed his parentage to her, to anyone? She stared hard at her half-brother’s headstone, mulling it over. Why? And then it came to her and the sudden knowledge knocked the breath from her lungs. Why hadn’t she seen it sooner? Of course. CJ was grooming her to take over his empire when he …
He had no other blood heir.
Shellie had no children, Les, his right hand-man wasn’t blood related and neither was Natalie.

Her hands began to tremble and a shudder ran through her body at the enormity of the thought, and worse, the reality. Oh, God. That’s why Natalie had made that scene — she’d seen her inheritance as sole heir slipping through her fingers. She covered her face with her hands, pressing her fingers against her forehead. Suddenly the responsibility of it, of what it meant to be CJ Ambrose’s only living child, hit her. She couldn’t do it. No way! Working as his architectual designer, learning the ropes was one
thing, but running the whole show? Her head began to swim as she thought of the ramifications, the extent of his empire, the power.

She wasn’t into power like CJ. And she certainly didn’t have his ruthless streak. But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t do just as good a job, an insidious voice inside her head said. She shook her head vigorously. No! Her whole life would change.

She needed to see Steve and talk it all through with him.

A noise intruded into her thoughts: a horse cantering towards the cemetery. Billy Wontow slid from the saddle in a fluid movement and opened the cemetery gate.

“Hi. You’re up early,” he said as he sat cross-legged opposite her.

She gave him a lopsided smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded gravely. “Not surprising. Big news last night. Everyone amazed, but most were pleased.” He held out both of his hands to her and said simply, “Welcome.”

She didn’t hesitate to grasp his and for a moment she looked at his dark, gnarled buckles covering her paler ones. She looked into his eyes. “You knew, didn’t you? About the Aboriginality.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Alison and I knew pretty soon. We can always tell our own.” He grinned at her confused expression. “Don’t ask me how. Guess it’s the spirit singing to us or something.”

“I’d like to know more … about my birth mother. Lucia said she was abandoned at a mission when she was very small. I don’t know how to go about it.”

“Doesn’t matter, Francey. You know who you are and we know you’re one of us. That’s all that matters.”

“I guess so.” She sighed. “I … I’m having a few problems getting used to the idea of being CJ’s daughter. All my life I thought I was Italian, now I’m the part Aboriginal daughter of a multimillionaire. It’s hard to make the mental adjustment. It’s like I’ve gone through some strange, not altogether pleasant rebirth.”

Billy looked away to the dry pasture, waiting for winter rain. “CJ’s a good bloke. Tough, but fair. You’ll make a good boss lady one day, don’t worry, it’ll all work out.” He got up, strode over to his saddlebag. He took out what appeared to be the Sunday paper. “Look, you’ve made the big time already.”