Destiny's Path Read Online Free PDF

Australia.’
    ‘That’ll upset your sister. And what will happen to Maia if I die?’ Mrs Largan asked. ‘She’ll be on her own then.’
    Xanthe hesitated, unable to think of an easy answer to this.
    ‘You must both realise that her love for my son can lead nowhere.’
    That was obvious to both her and her sister. Maia wasn’t stupid, after all. But Xanthe hadn’t realised Mrs Largan was aware of Maia’s feeling. Even this kindest of mistresses wouldn’t tolerate a marriage between her son and a young woman from the labouring classes. ‘I don’t think she expects anything to come of her feelings, to be truthful, ma’am. She knows gentlemen like your son don’t marry mill girls.’
    ‘Expecting is one thing, dreaming is another. If I didn’t need her so badly, I’d help her find another position, for her own sake.’ Mrs Largan looked down sadly at her twisted hands. She wished they’d told their maids the truth about Conn being married from the start. It might have stopped Maia falling in love with Conn – or perhaps not. Who could deny love? ‘Well, your other sister lives nearby. Maia could go to Cassandra if anything went wrong here. And in the meantime, if you do leave, I’ll look after her as best I can. Will that set your mind at rest a little?’
    ‘Yes. It will.’ Was her mistress hiding something? Xanthe wondered. Why was she talking of dying? Had her health deteriorated? She watched as Mrs Largan got slowly and painfully to her feet and left the room. Clearly the conversation was over.
    But it had done little to solve Xanthe’s worries. She’d always been the strong one, protected her gentler sister, and she felt guilty about leaving. But she couldn’t give up her whole life for Maia, much as she loved her.
    Two weeks after he left his mother’s house, Ronan got off the train in Outham and looked round with interest, smiling wryly to see that it was looking like rain here, too, with heavy grey clouds hanging low. His travels hadn’t included a Lancashire mill town before and he was hoping to get a tour of one of the huge monoliths with their towering chimneys. He’d not like to live here, though, fenced in by rows of streets on either side and with even the sky barred by ribbons of black smoke from the mills.
    He realised a lad had asked him something and forced his attention back, having difficulty understanding the accent. ‘What? Oh yes, I would like a handcart for my luggage. I’m going to Blake’s Emporium.’
    ‘It’s just down the main street in that direction, sir,’ the lad said, not cheekily but as one equal to another, which was very different from the way poorer people in Ireland talked to the gentry.
    The rest of Ronan’s things were in Southampton, waiting to be loaded on the ship. Bram was in London waiting for him. He’d given Bram enough money to look round the famous capital city of England, which he would probably never have a chance to visit again, and his boyhood friend had been as excited about that as a child.
    Ronan had written a brief note to his mother to tell her he was sailing to Australia, but hadn’t received a reply. It didn’t usually take her more than a few days to get over a disagreement and he couldn’t think why she was staying so angry.
    The lad stopped and gestured to the emporium, which had a handsome frontage with a big plate-glass window to the right of the entrance and a smaller one to the left. The name of the shop was written in big gold letters against a maroon background above the sparkling clean windows. A few tins and packages were arranged neatly in the narrow shop window and the whole of the inside seemed full of shelves containing groceries of all descriptions, some dry goods already weighed and set out in neat rows of packages of various colours. It had the air of a thriving business.
    ‘House door or shop, mister?’
    ‘I think it’ll be the house door,’ Ronan said, so the boy used the knocker and they waited