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England even, but I’d be among strangers and I don’t like that. I’ve always lived near here. I like living in the country. Why should I leave and go to live in a town, where I’d not be able to ride?’
    Fenella wondered what to say to this. Kathleen wasn’t an easy person to live with, so she didn’t blame Kieran. James Largan should never have made his son marry her, because any children of the union might be like their mother, but everyone had supposed she’d brought a large dowry with her.
    Kathleen hadn’t had any children, which was perhaps a good thing, but Fenella felt sorry for the younger woman, she did indeed. She’d once promised James Largan that if he died she’d keep an eye on his daughter-in-law. Strange how kind he’d always been to Kathleen. The younger woman didn’t have the knack of making friends, or even of getting on with people. Perhaps that was because of how her parents had treated her, keeping her always at home with a very strict governess. Children needed kindness and love, but Fenella doubted she’d ever had any.
    Kathleen scowled down at her clasped hands. ‘There’s another thing I’ve been thinking about. Mr Largan’s wife won’t know he’s dead so I thought I might go and tell her.’
    ‘Go to Australia?’
    ‘Why not? It was his dying wish that his wife come back where she belongs and Kieran refuses to go and tell his mother or even to write to say she must come back, and cousin Michael won’t go, either. So . . . I thought maybe I could go. I’d do anything for Papa Largan. He was always so kind to me, kinder than anyone else ever has been. What do you think, Mrs Maguire?’ She began to fiddle with the material of her skirt, pleating it then smoothing it out.
    ‘You could just write to her.’
    ‘I don’t like writing letters.’
    ‘I could write for you.’
    ‘No. My mind’s made up. I want to go and see her myself, persuade her to help me.’
    ‘You know she’s living with Conn. You said you never wanted to see your husband again.’
    Kathleen’s fingers stilled for a moment. ‘I don’t want to see him, but I must if I’m to see her. Since Mr Largan died, people have started treating me differently, as if . . . I’m a divorced woman or something terrible like that. It’s all because of Conn being a convict. I hate being married to a traitor.’
    ‘You are in a difficult position,’ Fenella admitted. Only James Largan’s influence had made sure that Kathleen was still accepted in the houses of the local gentry after her husband was transported.
    ‘So I’ve decided to go to Australia, see Mrs Largan, tell her what her husband wanted and try to persuade her to come back and live with me. That’d be more respectable, don’t you think? People would talk to me again if I was living with her.’
    ‘What about your husband?’
    ‘Conn can rot in hell for all I care!’
    Fenella didn’t know what to say to that. If Kathleen moved out of the district, she didn’t think anything would make up for the fact that her husband was a convict who’d been transported to Australia. Socially, her young friend was ruined and would remain in a sort of limbo unless Conn died and she remarried. Even then, some people would refuse to socialise with her.
    Fenella too would have looked askance on a convict’s wife if she hadn’t known the family and Kathleen all her life. She’d never been able to believe that Conn was a traitor. ‘Australia. That’s a long way to travel on your own.’
    ‘That’s why I came to see you. You told me your son wrote to tell you he’s going to Australia and you’re all on your own here now. You said last time I saw you that you were bored, so I thought perhaps you’d like to come with me, to make it all respectable.’
    Fenella stared at her in shock, unable to speak or move for a few moments, then slowly the idea began to seem . . . possible . . . interesting even. She’d never travelled, never really wanted to