“I will never forgive you for this,” said Matilda Langley as she looked up at her husband with seething hatred in her eyes. “You could have stopped all this. You only had to give her your love and support. Instead, you belittled her, and made her feel ashamed for just being in love. I curse you, your son, and this family for eternity.”
She stood up abruptly. “You had better pray to God that they find her, otherwise, I will make your life a living hell.”
Matilda walked out of the study leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts. He went over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink of whiskey and swallowed it down with one go. He poured another, and then sat down in his chair by the fire and stared into the writhing flames, his mind in turmoil. What could he do? Find Lillian. She would never come back now, even if she was still alive, but he had to at least try for Matilda’s sake.
Robert Langley made for the wood pile at the rear of the barn. He had to take his anger out on something. His first impulse was to retrieve the double-barrel shotgun from its place on the wall in the kitchen, load it, and blow his father to hell and back. But he knew if he did that he would probably hang and then all the money in the world be no good to him. He had to bide his time, and swallow his anger and pride for the moment, his time would come.
He picked up the axe and proceeded to split the blocks of wood that had been cut and stacked in a neat row near the barn. He drove the axe in with all his strength, sending pieces of wood flying off at all angles as he moved around the block and cursing as he went. He kept going for a solid hour, driving himself beyond his endurance, until his strength was gone. He sat down on the pile of wood, sweat dripping from his face, his anger sated.
Frank O’Connor had seen Constable Harrison ride out with the stagecoach driver, he had also watched Robert Langley make his way to the barn and strike out at the wood pile with the axe. He strode out from the inside of the barn to where Robert sat breathing heavily and with a stare like a wild brumby on his face.
“Is it all over?” asked Frank as Robert looked up at him. He really didn’t need an answer, for he saw the fighting spirit in those eyes.
“No, it’s not over; we just have to make some alterations. I have to fire you,” said Robert as he began to chuckle.
“I don’t think that is anything to laugh about,” growled Frank.
“You will go to Hobart to oversee our operations there. I would suggest that you shave your beard off and keep a low profile for a while as Constable Harrison has a good description of you.”
“Did they find her body?”
“No, she apparently survived the fall and made it to the river, they lost her tracks there.”
“Drowned do you think?”
“Possibly, but it might pay you to have a look around on your way down to Hobart.”
“What if I find her?”
“This property and all its rewards are going to be mine. Nothing will stand in the way of that. You understand me.”