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Beyond The Blue Mountains
By
Jean Plaidy
From The Cover:
Jean Plaidy’s robust historical novels, which range from the tempestuous, strife-torn eleventh century to the heady passions of the Georgian era, have enthralled readers the world over, bringing history vividly to life.
Beyond The Blue Mountains Set in the England and Australia of the late eighteenth to early nineteenth centuries, this is a compelling and convincing story told with vivid authenticity.
The adventures of the bold and reckless Carolan in the East End, in Newgate Jail, and aboard the prison ship transporting her to Australia forcefully recreate the perversion, vice and cruelty of that age.
Once in Sydney Carolan, now a convict maid-servant seeks freedom and status. But the way she chooses to ensure her future is such that it will haunt her for the rest of her life…
Jean Plaidy also writes as Victoria Holt and Philippa Carr
BEYOND THE BLUE MOUNTAINS
Due to illness, Jean Plaidy was unable to go to school regularly and so taught herself to read. Very early on, she developed a passion for the ‘past’. After doing a shorthand and typing course, she spent a couple of years doing various jobs, including sorting gems in Hatton Garden and translating for foreigners in a City cafe. She began writing in earnest following marriage and now has a large number of historical novels to her name. Inspiration for her books is drawn from odd sources a picture gallery, a line from a book, Shakespear’s inconsistencies. She lives in London and loves music, secondhand book shops and ancient buildings. Jean Plaidy also writes under the pseudonyms of Victoria Holt and Philippa Carr.
Also by Jean Plaidy in Pan Books
THE FERDINAND AND ISABELLA TRILOGY
Castile for Isabella Spain for Sovereigns Daughters of Spain
THE LUCREZIA BORGIA SERIES
Madonna of the Seven Hills Light on Lucrezia
THE MEDICI TRILOGY
Madame Serpent The Italian Woman Queen Jezabel
THE TUDOR SERIES
Murder Most Royal St. Thomas’s Eve The Sixth Wife The Spanish Bridegroom The Thistle and the Rose Gay Lord Robert
THE MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS SERIES
Royal Road to Fotheringay The Captive Queen of Scots
THE STUART SAGA
Murder in the Tower The Three Crowns The Haunted Sisters The Queen’s Favourites
THE CHARLES II TRILOGY
The Wandering Prince A Health Unto His Majesty Here Lies Our Sovereign Lord
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION SERIES
Louis the Well-Beloved The Road to Compiegne Flaunting, Extravagant Queen
THE GEORGIAN SAGA
The Princess of Celle Queen in Waiting Caroline, the Queen The Prince and the Quakeress The Third George Perdita’s Prince Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill Indiscretions of the Queen Goddess of the Green Room The Regent’s Daughter
THE NORMAN TRILOGY
The Bastard King The Lion of Justice The Passionate Enemies
THE PLANTAGENET SAGA
The Plantagenet Prelude The Revolt of the Eaglets The Heart of the Lion The Prince of Darkness The Battle of the Queens The Queen from Provence
THE VICTORIAN SAGA
Victoria in the Wings The Captive of Kensington Palace The Queen and Lord M also Daughter of Satan The Goldsmith’s Wife Evergreen Gallant Jean Plaidy
BEYOND THE BLUE MOUNTAINS
Pan Books First published 1948 by Robert Hale & Company This edition first published 1973 by Pan Books an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Ltd 2? Eccleston Place, London SW1W 9NF and Basingstoke Associated companies throughout the world ISBN 0 330 37020 0 Copyright Jean Plaidy 1948, 1964 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
13579 108642 A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham plc, Chatham, Kent This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser.TO G.P.H.
Kitty Kennedy
It was hot in the coach. The June sunshine was merciless, and the dust raised by the horses’ hoofs powdered the hedges, penetrated the coach, tickled the throats of the travellers, and set their eyes smarting. They had dined adequately at Brentford off salt pork and malt liquor, but now they were crossing Staines Bridge and their thirst and peevishness more and more inclined them towards slumber. They were aware of the hardness of their seats, of the jolting of the coach, of the increasing tedium of a journey that with luck would go on for four days, and without luck longer; they were aware of the proximity of each other, not always pleasant; they thought, not without uneasiness, of Bagshot Heath. They should get over it in daylight, but they sat fingers crossed, guarding against ill luck, lest some mishap should befall the coach on its way across the Heath.
The merchant in the corner began to snore, his wife to nod. The middle-aged matron kept an unnecessarily watchful eye on her two daughters who were both fast approaching thirty, mousy-haired, one pimpled, the other pock-marked, and who seemed to be holding themselves in readiness for an attack on their virtue. It amused the girl of seventeen in the big straw hat, and the young man of eighteen with the leather brief-case across his knees.
They had been watchful of each other, these two, since he had boarded the coach at Kensington. He had sat opposite her; his eyes had tried to catch hers, but whenever he looked her way her charming oval face would be hidden by the brim of her hat. Her clothes were elegant; she had a mingled air of simplicity and sophistication which he found enchanting. Who was she? Why was she travelling alone by stage? How could her family allow it! He was intrigued and excited.
Her hair was golden like the corn in August, and when the sun caught it, it turned to the gold one saw in the goldsmiths’ shops. He had not seen her eyes; the ridiculous hat hid them every time he would look straight at them. There was a dimple in her chin; her mouth was lovely, frightened yet bold, full, a little sensuous just a little and childish too. She was a very attractive young person, and alone? He himself had thought it quite an adventure to leave the home he shared with his Uncle Gregory in the little town just beyond Exeter, and to visit his Uncle Simon in Lincoln’s Inn. An adventure for a young and adventurous man; but for a beautiful young woman! He studied her from head to foot. Her long green cloak almost enveloped her, but it was possible to see the striped poplin dress beneath it which at her tiny waist fell away from the gaily coloured quilted petticoat. Who was she? He was determined to find out.
The merchant was awakened suddenly by one of his own snores which was more violent than those which had gone before. He glared at his wife as though accusing her of having made the sound which had disturbed his slumber. She was meek, almost apologetic; she gave the impression of having taken as her due over a number of years any blame he cared to lay upon her.
The merchant began to address his fellow passengers. He was a garrulous man, and abject meekness in his wife had led him to expect it in all.
“Wars! Wars!” he declaimed. There will be wars as long as there are men to make them!”
He glanced expectantly at Darrell Grey, the young man with the brief-case, and Barrel answered that indeed it looked as if there must always be these quarrels between nations; but his attention did not really stray from the young woman sitting opposite him.
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