The Lace Balcony (68 page)

‘I saw Moreton Bay through the other end of the telescope to you, Logan. I still reckon you ruled by your own law – bloody short on mercy. But I'm beginning to understand the system that turns some men in power into tyrants. I reckon Sandy was right. That you were a brave soldier in battle. And probably never unjust in your own eyes – if you believed a man was innocent, you fought for his release. Your courageous explorations brought honour to your family – and your name deserves to be remembered for that – if nothing else. Sandy reckons you were scrupulous with money and never self-seeking – unlike plenty of others in the Colony who make a career out of lining their own pockets.'

He turned to Will. ‘That's enough, isn't it? I'm really scraping the bottom of the barrel.'

Will gently prompted him. ‘Why not pay your
own
debt to the man.'

Mungo took a deep breath and said the words in a rush. ‘I give you my word that no matter how long it takes, I'll pressure those bastards in authority. I won't rest until the country you served with honour
in battle
grants your family the pension they deserve.'

Mungo gritted his teeth. ‘Satisfied now, Will?'

Will gave a silent nod of approval.

Mungo gave it his final shot. ‘Look, Logan, if you choose to continue to haunt me, I can't bloody well stop you. But from now on I won't take it as a sign of revenge. For your sake, Patrick Logan – and mine – I hope you'll now rest in peace.'

Mungo felt Will's hand resting lightly on his shoulder as they retraced their steps to where Boadicea stood waiting for them.

•  •  •

Recharged with fresh vitality, Mungo returned Boadicea to the stables, unsaddled her and saw to her needs. He called to Vianna and without waiting for a response hurtled up the ladder disappointed that she wasn't there. Disconcerted to note the packed valise by the door and the envelope addressed to Jane Quayle, he hurried downstairs.

Toby was seated at Jane's table, tucking into one of two steaming bowls of porridge, the other one placed in front of an empty chair.

‘That bowl for me is it, mate?' Mungo asked, attempting a light-hearted tone as he tried to judge from Toby's expression how much the kid had been told of Mungo's departure without a word of farewell.

I feel like a mongrel. I couldn't blame the kid if he was pissed off with me. I let him down badly.

Toby looked at him with sad, dark eyes. ‘The other bowl is for my friend.'

‘Seems like your friend is always hungry.'

Toby shrugged. ‘You can have half of mine, if you like. I'll fetch you another spoon. You don't want to take to the road hungry.'

That's what Mam always says.
Mungo was embarrassed by his generosity.

‘Don't worry, mate. I've had my breakfast already. And I'm not going anywhere without
you
.'

Jane entered. One look at her and Mungo knew he was in deep trouble.

‘Nice of you to pay us a call,' she said sharply. ‘To what do we owe this unexpected honour?'

‘I'm sorry for the confusion, Mam. But don't worry, I've got good news. It's all ended well. I'm free of the past. Sandy helped me sort out my life – and get to the bottom of those recurring nightmares. I'll
give you the full details later – for your ears only. But first I've got to talk to Vianna. She's not leaving is she? I've got to put things right with her.'

‘You most certainly have!' Jane's face was tight with disapproval but she kept her voice low, mindful of Toby's presence. She gently shooed the boy out the door to fetch a bunch of carrots from the gardener's kitchen garden. Then let fly at Mungo.

‘I warned that mermaid not to break your heart. But the truth is I should have warned
her
against
you!
Anyway you'll have to wait to apologise. She left with young Molly not a half-hour since. I don't know where they've gone, but Molly was in a proper state I can tell you – something involving Felix.'

Mungo felt the age-old flash of anger. ‘What's Felix done to her? If he's pressuring her as a way to get to Vianna, he'll have me to answer to.'

‘Hold your horses till you know the score.' She handed him a letter. ‘This was given to me by Cockney George this morning. From Mrs L'Estrange no less,' she added, failing to camouflage her curiosity, ‘It looks pretty formal.'

Mungo broke the L'Estrange red wax seal on the envelope and read the note in silence. He cast an anxious glance at the clock above the fireplace. ‘Sorry, Mam. This is important. I have to go – but make sure you hold Vianna captive until I return. That's if you're counting on having future grandchildren.'

At her startled expression he dropped a hasty kiss on the crown of her head and charged through the garden, cutting straight through the house and out the front entrance into Great Rockingham Street.

A summons from Mrs Less is next thing to a Royal Command. I wish I knew what the hell is going on. And what Felix is up to with my girls.

The family carriage was waiting, the restless bay mares pawing the ground. Albruna looked anxious. ‘Hurry up and get in. I thought you were not coming. I trust you are revealing to no one the contents of my letter?'

Mungo assured he had not and took the seat opposite her.

She was clearly distracted. ‘I am glad of your company, Mungo. Today you are the one person I can trust. You must tell no one what you witness today.'

‘You can count on it.' He decided to push his luck. ‘Where
are
we going?'

‘To the Supreme Courthouse.' Albruna L'Estrange looked out the window to avoid further discussion.

Wearing the old tricorn hat and livery that he had worn when first assigned to Kentigern L'Estrange in his youth, Old Crawford galloped the horses to a screeching halt in front of the Supreme Court House in King Street – an arrival so rocky that Mrs L'Estrange was almost catapulted into Mungo's lap.

‘Oh dear,' she said mildly, ‘it will be a blessing when Old Crawford remembers he's supposed to be our butler.'

Mungo smiled.
Funny, I never realised how human she can be
.

The sight of the Georgian convict-built brick courthouse aroused sharp memories of his last visit here – his own trial four years earlier.

Albruna L'Estrange took his arm as they made their way inside. Always elegantly dressed, she wore a gown of sober grey as befitted the occasion, and the ostrich feather in her bonnet, kid gloves and brooch of the family coat-of-arms proclaimed her as a woman of Quality in contrast with the crowd already thronging the footpath. Today's proceedings had not attracted the wide cross-section of classes that murder trials always did, but it had drawn a volatile crowd of rabble-rousers. The air crackled with expectation.

‘Good of you to alert me to this trial, Mrs L'Estrange,' Mungo added under his breath, ‘whatever it is.'
God willing it will somehow throw light on Daisy's fate.'

Albruna acknowledged Mungo's thanks with a nod. She appeared unusually tense so Mungo tried to put her at ease.

‘I'll find you a seat as far from the raucous elements as possible. In theory it's democratic to open the doors to all-comers, but in reality it's an open invitation for ruffians and drunkards to walk in off the streets and heckle the judge if they don't agree with the verdict.'

‘I am not unmindful of this, Mungo. I often attend trials involving destitute women and children. You have shown admirable restraint in not asking why we are here. There are two reasons. One a possible link to your friend's lost child. But I do not wish to raise her false
hopes. This is proving like the needle in the haystack. But we will not give up, no?'

So what's the other reason? Why the mystery?

He shepherded her to a seat close to a window that offered relief from both the heat and the rank odour of unwashed bodies jostling to gain a better view. He noted that the ratio of females to men was higher than the usual one to five. In contrast to the ruffian male element, the women, although shabbily dressed, were quiet and attentive, suggesting the case had particular significance to them.

The proceedings began with all the formality of a British court but in this colonial venue the blaze of scarlet was not confined to the judicial robes of the judge. In place of the traditional ‘twelve good men and true' was the military jury, disliked by much of the Colony. The sight of the seven scarlet-coated officers was an unpleasant reminder of the military jury that Mungo was sure had decided he and Will were guilty of Major Fraud before they even took their seats.

He switched his attention to the judge, who had recently arrived in the Colony.

Albruna whispered that he was a
puisne
judge, which Mungo understood to mean he was not of equal rank to Chief Justice Forbes. The judge's bearing was slow and stiff. Although his countenance was not yet stamped with middle age, it betrayed marked ill health. His complexion was scarcely a shade warmer than the traditional grey-white full-bottomed wig of
faux
curls that hung down over each shoulder. The fall of his scarlet judicial robes indicated a sunken chest.

Two young assigned men were brought before the judge charged with robbing their master's shop. The evidence against them was thin. Both were swiftly pronounced guilty. The younger, a second offender, was sentenced to transportation to Moreton Bay for seven years. There was an immediate uproar when the judge placed the black cap on top of his wig – the sign that the prisoner's older partner in crime was about to receive the death penalty.

Raucous shouts of denial broke out from all corners of the courtroom, which only abated when the judge intimated that this death sentence would probably be remitted to Life.

Albruna stiffened at the announcement of the next proceedings. ‘This is why I asked you here today.'

Mungo did not recognise the well-dressed man until the string of aliases was read out: ‘Jack Barnes, alias John Border, alias Jos Baker.'

I should have finished the mongrel off when I had the chance.

•  •  •

The courtroom was almost filled to overflowing when Vianna shepherded Molly inside, manoeuvring her into a corner. Vianna quickly assessed the males around her and chose one on whom to focus her most winning smile. He instantly gave up his seat to Vianna. With a quick smile of thanks she placed Molly in the vacant seat, to enable her to watch the proceedings but not be seen by the accused.

Molly twisted her handkerchief and whispered, ‘Oh no! There's Mungo with Mrs L'Estrange. Why are they here? Now Felix will know everything!'

The charge sheet was read out. Baker was charged with an assault with intent to commit rape.

Vianna put her arm around Molly's shoulders and found she was ice cold.

‘Molly, are you sure you want to stay through this trial?'

Molly nodded but seemed to shrink in her seat.

The woman who had brought the charge against Baker, Mrs Foley, was a mousey, nondescript woman with a mottled complexion like stained wallpaper. To Vianna she had that look of generations of ingrained poverty shared by many old lags.

Vianna hardly recognised Jos Baker. In contrast to the violent drunk she had first seen in the garden of Rockingham Hall, a very different style of man now stood in the dock. Baker's head was held high, his dark hair centre-parted and flattened with pomade, his suit was of decent cut although clearly made for a bigger man, his linen and neckcloth were immaculate. He had the look of a man who had risen up the class ladder by his own efforts.

She tried to give Molly confidence.
But you can't fool me, Baker, once a wife-beater, always a bully. I'd give ten years of my life to be up there sitting on your jury.

Vianna and Molly watched intently as Kate Foley rose to identify herself to the judge as the woman who had laid the charges. But the figure who crossed the courtroom, the victim of the alleged crime, was not a woman.

Annie Cole was a puny child, ten years old.

One year under the legal age of consent. I should be thankful it isn't Daisy.

Molly focused on the child without expression, but Vianna saw her knuckles blanch as she gripped the seat in front of her.

Annie Cole took the stand, awed by the red-coated soldiers. Breathing through her mouth as though she suffered a perennial cold, she plucked nervously at the hem of her pinafore. Stringy brown hair escaped her mobcap. When she stepped up into the witness box, she held the hem of her dress to prevent tripping. Her legs were blotchy with bruises.

The judge addressed her in a formal yet kindly manner. ‘Before we are able to proceed with this case, Annie Cole, I must ask you a few questions, as a point of law. Do you understand me, child?'

The little girl looked towards Mrs Foley before answering, ‘Yes, Sir.'

She responded to the judge's questions with simple childlike clarity.

‘How old are you, Annie?'

‘I don't know. No one ever told me.'

‘Do you attend church, Annie?'

‘No, Sir.'

‘Do you know what a church is, Annie?'

‘That's where they hanged that man Jesus on a cross.'

An outburst of laughter was instantly met by the judge's reprimand.

‘Do you say your prayers, Annie?'

‘I never knew no prayers.'

‘Or catechism?'

‘What's that, Sir?'

‘Do you understand your relationship to God? Do you respect Him?'

Growing anxious that Kate Foley was now avoiding her eyes, Annie blurted out the words, ‘I never met no man called God, Sir.'

The court erupted in laughter. Vianna wanted to scream.
Stop hounding the child.

The judge continued. ‘Does your mother ever read the Bible?'