Ghost Gum Valley (51 page)

God, I hope that sounded gallant enough. I
do
want us to remain friends.

Josepha began to play with the ribbon of the lover's knot that would release the remaining shoulder of her negligee.

‘Marmaduke, you are such a romantic at heart. I have been expecting this, my darling. You were gone so long without a word. But I notice you have returned with a hand naked of a wedding ring.'

Marmaduke faltered.
Damnation. Women never miss a trick.

‘A long story. I'll not bore you with the details, Josepha.'

‘No matter. You and I are above bourgeois sentimentality. But to please me, walk to the window, sweetheart. Look down in the street and tell me what you see.'

The request was so strange Marmaduke sensed there must be some ‘method in her madness'. He did as he was bid.

‘The street is quiet. Apart from my own carriage placed some distance away for the sake of discretion, there's only one other stationary carriage. A fine pair of greys. A driver garbed in burgundy livery. I can see the occupant is a man wearing a top hat, an opera cloak and, how odd, his opera glasses are trained in this direction.'

‘Ah, that's
him
,' Josepha said.

Marmaduke asked politely, ‘I presume he is an admirer intimately known to you?'

‘Not yet,' she said lazily. ‘A most patient nobleman with a delicious French accent. He wants badly to become my protector. I have accepted the use of this townhouse from him. That is all – as yet.'

‘I understand,' Marmaduke said. ‘You would prefer me to take my leave of you.'

‘On the contrary, darling. He has the traditional Frenchman's jealousy but his manners are perfect. He will not come to me unless I invite him. He will remain there all night, if I wish it. The answer is in your hands.'

Marmaduke felt his pulse quicken.

She's playing a scene but does she care one way or the other how it ends?

‘This mysterious Frenchman. He asks nothing of you?'

‘Nothing more than to dance for him – in private.' She added softly, ‘Salome's Dance of the Seven Veils. Remember how well I performed it for you?'

Marmaduke said lightly, ‘How could I forget? You would fill Levey's theatre to overflowing if you gave a public performance.' He fought to banish the memory of that night he had been her sole audience, lying naked in her bed.

‘My Gentleman Frog is handsome,' she teased. ‘I am attracted to his generosity but not yet to him. He follows my every movement. I find his carriage parked outside the theatre, my milliner, my hair-dresser and this villa he has placed at my disposal.'

‘The price you must pay for his adoration,' Marmaduke said. ‘My sweet lady, I know I will hate myself in the morning for my decision, but I recognise I have been outflanked. The hour has come for me to bid you goodnight.'

Marmaduke bowed deeply with a cavalier's flourish of the hand.

‘Only for tonight.' Josepha said softly. ‘Our time together is not yet played out. You know it. I know it. A great many exciting changes will reshape our world before my ship sails for New York.' She rolled over to give him a last glimpse of the woman he had been fool enough to put aside.

She added as an afterthought. ‘You are welcome to bring your little wife to America with us. As long as she knows her place and understands the demanding needs of a diva.'

Josepha's voice changed key to take on a pleading note that would melt a diamond. ‘I ask you to do something for me – as my friend.'

Marmaduke waited, unwilling to commit himself.

‘Would you sleep the night here, outside my room? I will feel safer, knowing he is watching my window all night waiting for a sign from me. A sign that I am unwilling to give him – as yet.'

Marmaduke nodded his consent and gently closed the door of her boudoir behind him. He pulled back a velvet drape and looked down into the street. Both carriages were stationary. A faint trace of cigar smoke trailed from the window of the Frenchman's carriage.

Marmaduke removed his boots and stretched out on the bearskin rug – no sofa was long enough to contain his height. Covering himself with his opera cloak he felt a sense of pride that he had been strong enough to pass his own test, to grow into his new role – a man Isabel might one day learn to trust.

I hope I allowed Josepha
to believe she played the game beautifully
tonight and saved face. She knows me intimately. But she has no idea she's met her match in Isabel.

He smiled at the absurd idea of Isabel meekly ‘knowing her place' and playing second fiddle to the legendary Nightingale as the trio trooped around both American continents in a
ménage a trois.

On the point of sleep he was suddenly sobered by the thought.

But what if I can't even tempt Isabel into a
ménage a deux
with me
?

It was half light when Marmaduke stirred and, feeling his duty accomplished, checked his pocket watch. Half five.

Throwing his cloak over his arm, he was in the act of reaching out to claim his top hat when he was suddenly on guard. He and his mistress were not alone. On the console table beside his hat and gloves was an even more fashionable version of his own – and a cane with a gilt head in the shape of a mythical beast. A wyvern.

He grew tense, ready to charge into Josepha's room to protect her, but he was stopped by the tinkling sound of her laughter. And Josepha's American-accented French when she said teasingly, ‘Monsieur, you flatter me.'

Her admirer's reply was so soft that Marmaduke was not able to translate the words beyond the odd Gallic endearment but he recognised full well the seductive tone. It drew from Josepha a trill of laughter that Marmaduke had often aroused when sharing her bed. Was her teasing laughter designed to encourage the Frenchman? Or was she giving a performance aimed at her intended audience – Marmaduke?

He retrieved his hat with a wry smile. A woman's revenge was bittersweet in any language. He knew when it was time to take his leave.

Check mate, Josepha. I hope I leave you in good hands, sweet lady.

Chapter 35

Marmaduke submerged himself in a hot bath in Garnet Gamble's chambers at the Princess Alexandrina Hotel. He had accomplished most of the things for which he had come to Sydney but his gut instinct told him today would be a day like no other.

In Josepha St John's chambers he had agreed to offer her his protection – a chaste night on her couch. Instead, he had been forced to play gooseberry while she entertained her Gallic lover in her boudoir. For the first time in his adult life Marmaduke had declined a lusty night in a mistress's bed. He was reminded he was approaching the age of twenty-five.

‘I must be getting old,' he said under his breath but knew the truth.
Isabel.

He was warmed by the memory of her half-innocent expression when she requested that he demonstrate on his return the art of being Kissed in Four Places. Had she any idea how erotic this was? Images from his past encounters with voluptuous female bodies flooded his mind then vanished, to be replaced by Isabel's slender, almost boyish naked form – the face, the eyes, the sweet taste of her lips were hers alone.

‘Enough!' he warned himself. ‘You've chosen to play the role of hero. Get going. You've only got a short time to prove it before Silas de Rolland drops anchor.'

Dressed in one of his ‘English gentleman's' suits of clothes, he swore in resignation over his failure, yet again, to perfect his cravat then attacked his French breakfast. Today he would be forced to play the Quality at its own game. It went against the grain but he was determined to do it for Isabel's sake.

His first call was an exhibition of paintings and memorabilia donated by the Colony's artists and the Exclusives to raise funds for the Orphans' Benevolent Asylum. The Quality would no doubt want be seen trying to outbid each other at an auction of paintings, an event to be opened by Governor Bourke's daughter, Mrs Deas
Thompson. He hoped an encounter with her would facilitate Isabel's acceptance into Sydney society.

Marmaduke was aware that Anne Maria Bourke had married her father's most trusted public servant, Edward Deas Thompson, an industrious Scottish-American whom Bourke had inherited from Governor Darling and appointed to the arduous dual role of clerk to the Executive and Legislative Councils. The young man's record was so exemplary none could claim nepotism should Bourke appoint his son-in-law Colonial-Secretary in the event Alexander McLeay agreed to vacate the post.

On Marmaduke's arrival at the Georgian sandstone offices of the Surveyor-General he made a cursory inspection of the items listed for auction, including work by Augustus Earle, the artist who had painted his mother's portrait. But he was more attracted to the adjacent room that held a magnificent Government-owned Australian collection assembled by William Holmes. The young curator had been sent to the Colony at the directive of Westminster but allocated by Lord Bathurst to the limit of a paltry two hundred pounds a year towards the formation of a public museum.

Standing in front of a showcase housing Aboriginal artifacts of great antiquity, Marmaduke felt a distinct sense of Currency pride. He was addressed by a young man with a diffident English accent.

‘I trust you find these worthy of your attention, sir?'

‘
Worthy?
They're magnificent, mate. Europe would go
nuts
over this exhibition.'

Too late Marmaduke realised his gaff.
Nuts! Shit, I just dropped my English façade.

He hastily introduced himself. ‘So
you're
William Holmes, the genius behind all this. Thank God you're making the Colony wake up that Australia's cultural heritage is unique!'

William Holmes gave a self-deprecating shrug. ‘No genius, Mr Gamble, simply a humble but passionate curator.'

‘You underestimate yourself. If you hadn't fought to preserve what the
Sydney Gazette
likes to call “Australian curiosities” they'd be lost to posterity. This stuff doesn't just belong to
us
, it belongs to the whole damn world. To the future!'

The curator's face flushed with pleasure. ‘I wish politicians and benefactors could see it through your eyes. I've had to pack up this
entire collection and move it from pillar to post, literally from the Old Post Office to wherever the Government grants me house room. I trust that our leaders will someday grant the necessary funds to build a permanent home for it.'

Marmaduke spread his arms wide to encompass that vision. ‘The first Australian Museum! That's no mere dream, Will. It's gunna be reality, with you as its director!'

Catching Marmaduke's enthusiasm, the curator shepherded him around the room, animatedly confiding the stories behind his discoveries and their tribal significance.

Turning a corner they encountered a lady immaculately dressed in dove-grey silk with a touch of black indicating she was still in mourning. Marmaduke recognised he was face to face with His Excellency's daughter.

William Holmes bowed to her and gestured to Marmaduke. ‘Mrs Deas Thomson, may I introduce
my good friend
, Mr Marmaduke Gamble?'

Marmaduke was grateful for the exaggerated introduction.

She blinked at the name Gamble. Garnet's nothing if not notorious. But if Bourke's daughter is a chip off the old block, she won't snub me for being an Emancipist's son.

Marmaduke made her an elegant bow and during their exchange of polite English chit-chat he managed to balance the correct degree of formality with a hint of self-interest. He indicated that his bride was a member of the English de Rolland family.

‘Ah yes. Godfrey de Rolland is well known to my father's family. Perhaps it would interest Mrs Gamble to join the ladies' committee of the Orphans' Asylum?'

‘I can guarantee it, ma'am. Isabel is dead keen about the welfare of orphan kiddies,' Marmaduke said firmly. He was rewarded with a smile.

On the point of departure the Governor's daughter inclined her head to him. ‘I shall have my secretary send you and Mrs Gamble an invitation. I look forward to welcoming her to the Colony.'

When the auctioneer's gravel sounded in the next room Marmaduke warmly shook William Holmes by the hand.

I must get Garnet to make a handsome donation towards this bloke's museum.

Determined to make his presence felt, Marmaduke raised his hand to bid for a number of paintings that he did not really want. He was not disappointed when he was outbid.

I've got to put a roof over Isabel's head and stock Mingaletta
with a mob of sheep and cattle before I go nuts buying paintings.