The Lace Balcony (27 page)

For once that can't be a barb at Mam. Her herbal remedies have been practised since the year dot.

Mungo was relieved to have his wineglass filled by Cockney George. He noticed how well drilled the servants were under the watchful eye of their mistress. The only one to falter was timid little Molly, serving at table for the first time.

Wide-eyed and cautious, she silently filled Mungo's water glass.

He gave her a discreet wink and said for her ears alone, ‘You're a quick learner, Molly. Go straight to the top of the class.'

She rewarded him with a smile that reminded Mungo she was only months short of marriageable age.
Thirteen's too young for sport, but I reckon Cockney George would have his way with her, given half a chance. I must keep an eye on him.

Albruna quietly addressed Old Crawford, ‘Please see if my husband needs assistance.'

As if in response the doors were flung open and Kentigern L'Estrange stood in the doorway, his tall once powerful frame as erect as his walking stick would allow. His eyes gleamed and his slightly crooked smile was triumphant.

‘Apologies! Kept you waiting.' The words were surprisingly clear and Mungo almost cheered. He and Felix sprang to their feet in unison but when Felix solicitously moved to assist his father to his chair, he was waved aside. No help needed.

Mungo felt a surge of pride. ‘What a wonderful surprise. You look great, Sir.'

The murmurs of agreement were accepted by the Master of the house as his due and he further illustrated his confidence by allowing his wineglass to be filled. He rose to his feet and with his strong right hand raised his glass.

‘To the Land we Live in, Lads – Australia!'

Mungo was deeply moved that his father must have rehearsed to make the familiar words as articulate as possible. They all echoed the toast, then at a wave of the Master's hand the servants offered a procession of platters of food more sumptuous than Mungo had ever imagined existed.

Now that all four at the table were relaxed, Mungo studied them, sensing that the balance of power in the family, shaken since the paralysis that had rocked their world and challenged his father's leadership, had made a significant shift back to his father's control.

The patriarch's eyes watched them on high alert, amused to be party to their conversation but clearly aware of his limitations. He avoided eating clumsily in their presence but helped himself occasionally to the grapes in the chilled bowl placed within easy reach of his right hand.

When Felix rose to his feet, Mungo realised he had been primed to speak on their father's behalf. ‘Father loves to be mysterious. So
I am unable to identify the guest of honour who shall join us later, but who is unavoidably detained by the nature of his work.'

Kentigern's raised eyebrow prompted Felix to continue. ‘This evening's dinner is due to Father's wish that we join together to welcome Mungo's safe return – from New Zealand.'

That's for the servants' benefit, but I bet they aren't fooled for a minute.

‘Mungo, I regret you were not able to attend my twenty-first birthday dinner.'

‘I was unavoidably detained by the nature of my
own
work,' Mungo said quickly and was rewarded when his father's laughter broke the tension.

Felix managed a smile. ‘It is good to see that time has not diminished your sense of humour, Mungo. But to continue, Father regrets we were unable to celebrate your own majority.' He hesitated. ‘I understand this is a small reminder that you were never far from our thoughts.'

Kentigern beckoned Old Crawford to approach and to Mungo's surprise he was offered a silver tray which held a small box wrapped with silver ribbon.

‘Open!' his father commanded. Startled by the unexpected gift, Mungo tore it open to reveal a gold watch and chain, identical to the one Felix had received.

Mungo felt his throat constrict as he silently read the inscription inside the watch: To my beloved son Mungo, in whom I am well pleased.' Engraved at the heart of it was ‘The Three Legs of Mann', the ancient emblem of Jane Quayle's native land.

Mungo was unable to express the feelings that welled up inside him – the years of being the ‘other son' who was never acknowledged, the rivalry between Felix and himself, fuelled by the bitter enmity between his father's wife and his convict lover.

The message was plain.
Father's telling me what he is unable to tell the world. Felix and I are equal in his eyes.

‘I'm overwhelmed, Sir! Thank you both,' he added, confronted by the expression of pain in the eyes of Mrs Less.

But at least Felix's mother is by Father's side tonight – my own mother is only good enough to be summoned to his bed.

Felix cleared his throat before resuming his instructions. ‘Father has made an important decision. As you know, we recently acquired the public livery stables in Little Rockingham Street. From now on our carriages and horses will be stabled there. This means our present stables and the groom's quarters are no longer required.'

Felix withdrew from his breast pocket an envelope and handed it to Mungo.

‘These are the deeds to our former stables. Father has signed over this small building to you, Mungo, for the use of Boadicea or whatever purpose you choose. Father regrets there was no time to advise you of his decision, Mother.'

Mungo sensed Felix was embarrassed by his father's action. Mrs L'Estrange was clearly caught off-guard by the patent lie, but quickly recovered her composure.

‘We will ensure that the stables and loft are made habitable for your living quarters,' she said.

‘Goddamit! No!' There was no mistaking Kentigern's anger as his hammered fist sent his wineglass flying.

Felix flushed but responded quickly, ‘That was not Father's intention, Mungo. You are welcome to reside here as long as you wish. Father wants you to accept these deeds – as a small gesture of our thanks for your service to the L'Estrange family.'

A neat way of saying Sean O'Connor saved the family name from disgrace.

Unable to find adequate words to express his gratitude, Mungo crossed to his father's side. They locked each other in a silent embrace that needed no words.

At last he turned and bowed to his hostess. ‘I thank you also, Mrs L'Estrange. You know what this means to me – and my mother.'

My God, if looks could kill, I'd be six feet under.

His duty done, Felix abandoned etiquette and Mungo followed suit. They drank their wine with as much haste as if they had crossed a desert without water.

Mungo forced himself to pay Felix his due. ‘Nice speech. The Perfect Son welcoming home the Prodigal Son – the roles we were both born to play.'

Felix's aside surprised him. ‘Ever wanted to trade places with me?'

‘Yeah. At Moreton Bay!'

Mungo was pleased to see his father holding up his end of the conversation, but his own mind ricocheted between pleasure and anxiety. He touched the gold watch to remind himself that nothing was impossible.

I'm now a man of property, eligible to sit on a jury and vote.

This unexpected rise in status was challenged by unwanted thoughts about Vianna's future and exactly what the culmination of the
Transit of Venus
entailed.

Felix has the family name and fortune, the stamp of a true gentleman and a place at the highest level of society – equipped to sail through the doors of Severin House and bid for her. I'm no gentleman. All I've got to my name is a gold watch and a stable for my horse. That leaves a choice between cheating at cards – or fratricide.

His half-brother, blissfully unaware he was the object of Mungo's dark thoughts, was engaged in discussing Darling's libel suits against newspaper editors.

Mungo tried to convince himself that he had a head start.
I'll bet Felix has never been to bed with a woman. He's awkward even chatting to girls. Me, I can talk my way into bed. And my stories move Fanny to tears – proof that despite Severin, she still has a soft heart. As for gambling, Felix wouldn't know an Ace from a Joker. I can cheat and live to tell the tale. But how the hell can I set foot inside Severin House?

Mungo's mind was only half listening to the subtle undercurrents between Albruna and his father. Felix's quiet air of confidence made him suddenly uneasy.

In an attempt to needle him, Mungo ostentatiously withdrew his new watch and checked the time. ‘Isn't this the hour you usually visit the stars, Felix?'

Felix gave a start and checked his own replica timepiece. ‘Good God, so it is!'

Mungo followed Felix's anxious glance out the window to where the family carriage stood waiting.

I can read him like a book. Felix has got some secret agenda – but what?

At that precise moment the clock struck half of nine. The double doors were flung open. Kentigern L'Estrange's guest of honour stood framed in the doorway.

Felix rose in surprise at the sight of the slightly built, yet quietly impressive man that his mother dismissed as ‘that charlatan'.

Assuming the role of host, Felix went to greet the guest, irritated to be intercepted by Mungo, who welcomed the man with outstretched arms.

‘Sandy! How great to see you. I had no idea
you
were the guest of honour.'

‘I dinna deserve that title, but Mr L'Estrange wanted my arrival to surprise ye, lad. I understand belated twenty-first birthday greetings are in order.'

Dr Gordon's bow to his hostess was delivered with an apology for his late arrival that she accepted graciously.

Seated with wineglass in hand, he turned to his host. ‘I have no wish to sail under false colours. It is only fair to explain the cause of my delay. My meeting with the Governor's secretary was an attempt to confirm whether or nae the Governor had recommended to the Colonial Office the pension for Captain Logan's widow. I am well aware of Logan's brutality as Commandant, but his widow and bairns should nae be penalised. Forgive me. Injustice makes my blood boil.'

Felix and Mungo were both surprised by Albruna's immediate response.

‘We have
that
in common, Dr Gordon. I shall speak to Mrs Darling at the first opportunity. We shall all write letters to the authorities, shall we not, Mr L'Estrange?'

‘Agreed!' exclaimed Kentigern and thumped the table for emphasis.

Mungo drew Sandy out about his new position in Sydney Town in Dr Adam Golding's medical practice.

‘A Hebrew and Quaker may sound an odd partnership but it's working well. It's good to hang up my shingle for my first practice after being a naval surgeon.'

Felix felt empowered by the champagne his father had kept for this special night of celebration. He forced himself to keep smiling at
the stories Sandy and Mungo told to entertain them, but his thoughts ran contrary.

I have everything needed to meet Severin's requirements for the contract. Father has agreed to free the necessary funds. He's on my side, no doubt sympathetic because Jane Quayle's been his mistress for years. I can count on his discretion – all hell would break loose if Mutti discovered I've had a woman in keeping for years.

Mungo was now holding forth about the Diamond Python he had cooked for a bush banquet. He placed the scene ‘in New Zealand' for the benefit of the servants.

‘Perhaps. Mrs L'Estrange, you'd like me to instruct your cook, Mrs Baker, on how to bake snake Aboriginal style, buried in the ground?'

She inclined her head with a smile. ‘Thank you, no. I prefer to enjoy the
story
of your culinary exploits – I'm content to accept your word snake tastes like chicken.'

Against his will Felix was impressed by Mungo's easy manner, the artless way he could wear a fashionable suit yet disregard etiquette by slouching in his seat, making theatrical gestures to illustrate his stories.
His silver tongue holds his audience under his spell. Yet that same gift brought him within an inch of the gallows. I was born with every advantage – but one. Mungo is the cavalier I can never hope to be.

Talk shifted to colonial gossip involving men in high places. Then there was an awkward silence when Sandy showed interest in ‘the handsome woman I encountered in the hall, carrying a basket of herbs'.

Felix envied Mungo's knack of using humour to steer the conversation from pitfalls.

‘That'd be my mother, Jane Quayle,' Mungo said quickly, ‘she inherited her good looks from me.'

Laughter at his brash retort broke the tension for all but Albruna. She chose the next moment to excuse herself, albeit graciously.

Flourishing his cane, Kentigern shepherded the three men to his games room to enjoy ‘man talk', cigars, and the best his fine cellar had to offer. Felix tagged along, but now they were free from the threat of servants' gossip, his father openly focused on Moreton Bay and the
doctor as the hero whose intervention virtually saved Mungo's life. Although Felix had been instrumental in his father's correspondence with the doctor at Moreton Bay, he now felt invisible.

I should be pleased that my role as Father's interpreter is almost obsolete. Instead I feel a curious sense of loss. Father no longer needs me. He enjoys the bravado of Mungo's tales. No mention of the dark side of Moreton Bay or Logan's murder. Mungo tells people what they want to hear – to hell with the truth.

Offering a polite excuse to enable him to withdraw, Felix checked his appearance in the hall mirror. His face betrayed the emotion that had shadowed him since childhood – envy.
Well for once I'm going to play Mungo at his own game.

He hurried out into the night to the waiting carriage.

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