Ghost Gum Valley (55 page)

Isabel resolutely pushed from her mind a stab of envy at the thought of the lush beauty of Josepha St John. Determined to put her plan into action at day break she blew out the last candle.

The water for her bath was tepid but she lathered her body with Marmaduke's sandalwood soap and washed her hair. She glanced outside to check the weather, which seemed to be so quixotic in this part of the world it could span all four seasons in as many days. Deciding that the day promised to be hot, she dressed carefully in her prettiest sprigged muslin morning dress and hesitated before adding the miniature house pendant to complete her toilette. She thoughtfully fingered the gold wedding band that hung in tandem with the gold house on the delicate chain – Marmaduke's ring left with her for safekeeping.

Well, it's an odd order for an ally but I gave my word so I'll wear it until his return.

A quick glance in the three-faceted Gothic mirror drew a grimace of distaste. There were mauve crescent shadows under her eyes, evidence of a sleepless night. She pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to give them instant colour. She had no desire to copy Elise's unnatural arsenic-induced pallor.

Hurrying down the picture gallery she gave a quick salute to Miranda's portrait in passing, uneasy at the reminder of the inexplicable draft that had blown out her candle at this point last night. However, this morning Miranda looked serene.

‘I'm glad one of us slept last night!'

Isabel took her accustomed seat in the breakfast room, surprised to find Elise busy loading her plate with an English breakfast of sausages, scrambled and poached eggs, baked tomatoes, black pudding and French toast from the sideboard. Breakfast was the one meal of the day that Garnet insisted they serve themselves, free from the inevitable servants' gossip.

How strange life is. No doubt Garnet observed this tradition when he was a servant at de Rolland Park.

Isabel had expected to find Elise looking haggard and sleepless after her duties in the priest's hole. Not so. She gave Isabel a short but cheerful morning greeting and tucked into her food as if famished.

‘What plans have you for today, Isabel? Would you show me how to do that embroidery stitch that's said to be in favour with gentlewomen at Home? I'm bored with Empress Josephine's garden and cross-stitches. I'd like to make a cushion cover for Garnet's birthday. His initials framed by a Greek Olympic coronet. Will you show me how to do it?'

Isabel was bewildered by the normal tone of the request. Had last night been a dream? ‘Of course I will, but first I must play a game of chess with Garnet.'

Isabel moved her Knight with the necessary degree of hesitation needed to convince Garnet she was learning but was still well out of his league as a chess player.

‘Good girl, good move,' he said encouragingly.

It astonished her that today he had not cancelled their game. Despite the heat of the day he wore a winter-weight jacket and the line of the back appeared to be padded. The only clue to any pain or discomfort was his tendency to shift in his seat and his increased reliance on the inevitable jugs of lime juice. He had long since dropped the pretence that it was free of a heavy quota of gin.

His jubilant ‘Check mate!' on the side of Napoleon, was caused by the move that Isabel had designed to end their game earlier than usual.

‘Garnet, may I speak with you in private about a matter that concerns me?'

‘Of course. Let us go to our trysting place,' he said with a chuckle, in reference to the summerhouse that was also free from servants' eavesdropping. Amaru seemed to be sulking from lack of attention and hardly spoke as he marched up and down on Garnet's shoulder.

As they passed the aviary Garnet took her arm. His breathing seemed slightly more laboured than usual, which was hardly surprising given last night's punishment.

‘My dear, it touches me to see your interest in Miranda's beloved budgerigars. Pretty little creatures but few around here show 'em much interest, perhaps because they're native to this land. Arrant snobbery if you ask me.'

Isabel nodded in agreement while concentrating on sorting out phrases in her head as they took their seats in the summerhouse.

‘What's troubling you, m'dear? Nothing I can't fix, I'm sure.'

Isabel inhaled deeply to begin. ‘How I wish that were true, Garnet. No, please allow me to continue. It isn't easy for me to say this but it must be said. You have shown me all the concern and affection a true father shows his daughter. And this has now become a burden. I feel guilty. I have been less than honest with you. I have a confession to make.'

Garnet interrupted firmly. ‘Nonsense. You owe me nothing but to continue as you have begun. To grace this family with your beauty and kindness – and to put up with my son's temperamental moods and love him anyway. There's good stuff inside that lad, somewhere. It only needed a good woman to bring it out. Let's have no more talk of confessions. You have brought honour to my house and the Gamble name.'

Isabel reached out and took hold of his hand. ‘The truth is, Garnet, I am not exactly sure what my family led you to believe.'

‘You are a true de Rolland by birth?' he asked quickly. ‘Then that's all that matters.'

‘I am a legitimate de Rolland but my guardian did not disclose to your lawyers details of my life – my childhood. If he had done so no one would have blamed you for seeking a bride from some other aristocratic family in need of your assistance.'

‘Then I would have been a fool to have lost
you.
I've been called many unflattering names in my day but no one has ever called Garnet Gamble a fool.' He held up his hand in a gesture of command. ‘Enough. I know what I see. No revelations of any past little indiscretions are necessary.'

Past little indiscretions are one thing. If only he knew the web of lies I have woven. My false confession of infanticide to protect Rose Alba from discovery. How much dare I tell him?

‘Garnet, I must speak plainly if I am to remain under your roof
– as I so dearly wish to do. I believe you and I have more in common than you realise. I know what it is like to carry a burden of guilt so heavy that you feel you can never be free of it – no matter how hard you try to set things right.'

Garnet leant forwards intently and gripped her hand. ‘Go on.'

‘I want you to know you are not alone. If there is any way I can help lighten – any painful memories you carry—' She took a deep breath, knowing the fine line she was treading. ‘Please remember that Marmaduke's wife is your friend. My first duty is to my husband, but I see no division in my loyalty to the Gambles, father and son.'

Garnet turned away as if searching for something that was out of sight. When she saw him blink she realised she had struck a deep chord. He was fighting for control.

The sound of the dinner gong gave her an excuse to jump to her feet. ‘Are you as hungry as I am? I do hope so. Cook showed me how to make a special pudding that I understand is a favourite with you. Spotted Dick. Please tell me what you think of it.'

Isabel took his arm and shepherded him towards the house, chattering about the roses, the aviary of budgerigars, Amaru's vocabulary, the wallaby that crossed their path. Anything and everything she could seize on to lighten Garnet's mood.

I don't know whether I've just betrayed Marmaduke or brought him three steps closer to Mingaletta.
Only time will tell.

Chapter 38

Random images of Isabel flashed before Marmaduke's eyes as he lingered over breakfast in the Gamble suite at the Princess Alexandrina Hotel. Bittersweet memories of Isabel in a wild variety of moods since his first encounter with ‘the boy' with the black eye in the Watch House. Her fighting spirit at the Sign of the Lame Dog, her wistful wedding vow, her sleepwalking revelation, her fists beating him when she discovered Elise's role in his life, her eyes staring at him underwater, knowing she was drowning, the way she kissed him when he saved her, as if she was offering him her soul...

Marmaduke felt hot at the thought of her. He was more than ready to return home to her; his work in Sydney Town was near completion. The architect's blueprint for his new Indian bungalow was being drawn up and Marmaduke decided he would begin to oversee the building of it whether or not Garnet signed over the deeds to Mingaletta. Possession was indeed nine-tenths of the law. He was reminded of the parallel with the way Garnet had squatted on Crown land and succeeded in building up his rural holdings piece by piece.

In the weeks following the attack on Mendoza's store, Josiah's injuries had healed and his business continued to flourish once his mind was at rest that the tiara had been established as legally belonging to Isabel. The law declined to state the source of the false claim but Marmaduke had little doubt. He felt an involuntary stab of rage at the thought of Silas de Rolland. When that man arrived in the Colony it would be for one reason only.
Isabel.

Marmaduke had manged to resolve the matter of Josepha and the diamond peacock brooch. Expecting a temperamental outburst from her he had tactfully escorted her to Mendoza's store to have the brooch evaluated, after briefing Josiah he would pay for it to prevent the embarrassment of her having received stolen goods. In the process Marmaduke established what he had suspected – the brooch had been a gift from an admirer who wished to remain anonymous. Was her Frenchman still ‘stalking' her? He was.

This morning as Marmaduke tried Emile's latest gourmet breakfast dish, he kept glancing with a sense of pride at the ornate certificate that proclaimed he was now a Master Mason. Last night at Barnett Levey's Royal Hotel at the meeting of Freemasons he had passed the Third Degree of his initiation into his lodge. Barnett Levey had been an eloquent sponsor but Marmaduke had also been greatly assisted in his Masonic studies by Dr William Bland, who had been transported for killing a man in a duel in England and had dismissed Marmaduke's confession of his youthful duel.

‘You are in good company, young man. Quite a collection of scandalous duellists in this Colony, including Rupert Grantham and old John Macarthur. Even our recent British Prime Minister, the Duke of Wellington, fought a duel with an earl who opposed a bill he wanted to pass! But there are better ways to settle scores. We Masons learn to keep passions and prejudices within due bounds,' Dr Bland had said.

Passions and prejudices within due bounds. An interesting choice of words. It doesn't say a man must not have those qualities – only that he learns to control them.

Although his desire to become Isabel's hero had been Marmaduke's prime motivation, on being initiated into the Masonic brotherhood he had been drawn to the craft's marked egalitarianism.

These past months had changed his view of the world. All the Masonic regalia, the painted aprons and symbols used in Freemasonry, which Marmaduke had previously dismissed as meaningless when Garnet had pressured him to join his own Lodge, now represented a new dimension in his life.

As soon as the house plans were completed, he would return home to present it as a gift to Isabel.

For some unaccountable reason his head ached as he drank his second cup of coffee. He was pleased but surprised by Edwin's unexpected arrival, looking sombre, dressed in black. He handed across a copy of the
Sydney Herald.

‘I come bearing bad news, my friend.'

The front page was crammed with the usual columns of advertisements and the arrivals and departures of sailing ships. Marmaduke was jolted by the sight of the black-bordered notice in the centre of the page. The funeral of Rupert Grantham.

Marmaduke shook his head in disbelief. ‘Jesus, it can't be true. Rupert dead? I saw him only a few weeks ago. We dined together. He was full of vitality, ranting at the Exclusives, challenging Governor Bourke to take action to change our laws! What happened to him?'