The Lace Balcony (78 page)

Lulled by the soft sound of his voice, Fanny was asleep in Vianna's arms.

Mungo was looking at them with that sad, soulful expression that infuriated Vianna because she had to fight to resist it. She tried to sound cool. ‘A lovely fairytale, Mungo. I could
almost
believe it will happen.'

Mungo gently replaced the babe in her basket.

‘I'd best go,' he said reluctantly.

The sound of tropical rain pelting down on the tin roof made Vianna relent. ‘You'd best stay here. So I can make sure you get me to the ship in time. You can sleep on that quilt. But remember, tomorrow I'm sailing Home, no matter what.'

‘No argument from me, girl. I know when I'm licked.'

His capitulation made her suspicious. She rolled over and rested her head on her arm. ‘There's something you haven't told me, isn't there? About Severin's wife.'

‘Promise you won't lose your temper and frighten Fanny?'

‘Spit it out immediately – or you can sleep out in the rain.'

‘That stuff I said about the Governor and Severin's wife was – a tall story.'

‘You mean just for once Severin was telling the truth? He
is
widowed, not married?'

‘Free as a bird. It's perfectly legal for you to marry him tomorrow – if that's what you want. Or you can have that French artist bloke, Bonnard. Don't look like that – it was just a little white lie to get you off the boat for Molly's wedding.'

‘A
little white lie?
That's outrageous – even for you!'

Mungo began playing with a strand of her hair, weaving it around his finger. ‘To be honest, Vianna, that lie – probably won't be my last.'

His hand slipped beneath the striped shirt of his she was wearing. ‘Truth is it wasn't just for Molly's wedding. I wanted to kiss you one last time – in private. End it as it began – with a single kiss. Like this.'

He took her lips and drew her against him. And she felt the
answering heat between their bodies. She slid her leg between his and gave herself up to his mouth, his hands, his soft words. Time was beyond measure.

But one thing needed to be said. ‘You must understand, Mungo. I'm not the right woman for you. I wasn't cut out to be a wife and mother. If we make love for the very last time, you must promise to take me to the
Bussorah Merchant
tomorrow.'

His eyes were sad but he raised his right hand to take the oath. ‘You have the word of a Currency Lad.'

Just before she surrendered her body and demanded his in return, she whispered with a soft note of finality, ‘If I could have belonged to any one man, it would have been you.'

Mungo knew he had lost her. But just for tonight he had won. He would make that final kiss last until dawn.

•  •  •

Sun and wind played on Vianna's skin, whipping her hair around her face as she rode pillion behind Mungo. Her petticoats were teased and tugged by the wind that bared her long legs to the thigh. What did it matter if Sydney Town was shocked? Within hours she would be nothing but the fading legend of the Sydney Town Venus.

Mungo's eyes were fixed on the road ahead. He sounded light of heart.

‘Don't worry, I'll get you on board in time. Gave you my word didn't I?'

Vianna knew her irritation was irrational.
He seems relieved to see the back of me. Yet last night he made love like I was the last woman on the planet and he'd never let me go.

There were long shadows on the tombstones of the Devonshire Street Burial Ground as they rode past.
I know you aren't there, Daisy. I know you've gone home. But I'll always carry you in my heart, little one.

She was wary when Mungo took a different route and drew rein in front of the gates of Government House. Without explanation he dismounted and presented a letter to the red-coated soldier on guard.

Curiosity broke her silence. ‘Why did you stop here?'

‘To keep my promise to Sandy. A petition to the British government to grant Logan's widow a pension.'

When they arrived at King's Wharf, a jolly-boat was fast filling with passengers ready to board the
Bussorah Merchant.

Mungo's face was expressionless but Boadicea picked up his tension. Vianna was the first to break the silence. ‘I didn't say goodbye to Toby. I left him a note. He and little Fanny will be all right at
Mookaboola?
'

‘As right as rain. They've got
me.
The housekeeper loves kids. Never had any of her own. Felix's prize cow will give them milk – after Sadie's weaned the babe. We'll manage just fine.'

His smile is so cocksure. He doesn't give a damn about me.

He gestured to the rowing boat. ‘What are you waiting for? Severin and that French artist are waiting for you. You'll enjoy playing them off against each other – like you always do with men, right?'

Vianna forced herself to apologise. ‘I'm sorry I caused problems between you and Felix.'

‘We're both better off without you.'

He said the words with a shrug but Vianna noticed he kept looking back over his shoulder.

‘Hey, wait for us!'

Vianna spun around at the sound of Toby's piping voice, stunned by the sight of two carriages galloping up to halt at the wharf, the L'Estrange carriage and chaise. Felix was mounted on Kaiser.

‘What on earth's going on, Mungo?'

Toby was racing towards them, his arms waving madly. Felix sprang down from the saddle to help Molly alight. Sandy Gordon escorted Jane Quayle who held the babe in arms. In the background Kentigern L'Estrange and his wife emerged from the second carriage. All were moving steadily towards her like a phalanx.

‘So your mother
has
taken charge of little Fanny.'

Mungo had an odd look on his face. ‘That isn't Fanny. It's Little Gordon.'

‘
Gordon?
So who is Mrs L'Estrange carrying?'

‘Little Fanny, of course.'

‘You're taking on
three
children? All at once!'

Mungo shrugged. ‘What choice did I have? The Asylum was going to split them up. Albruna and Jane agreed it's wrong to separate twins.'

‘Twins! You lying hound, Mungo. You and Felix had this whole adoption thing planned all along – with help from your mothers!'

Mungo was philosophical. ‘Just goes to show miracles can happen.'

Felix whispered a quick aside. ‘Our mothers' first truce in twenty-five years.'

Molly looked adoringly at her husband. ‘Felix was just wonderful. He and his parents and Magistrate Kennedy organised the paperwork quick as a wink.'

Albruna smiled as she placed little Fanny in Vianna's arms. ‘The least I could do for Mungo, my dear.'

Sandy was quick to reassure Vianna. ‘I've checked the wee bairns from tip to toe. They are all in top health.'

His arm was firmly around Jane's shoulder to bolster her confidence. Jane gave her a piercing stare. ‘I hope I'm wrong about mermaids.'

Vianna looked at each face in confusion. ‘You were all in league to help Mungo – but don't you understand? This doesn't involve me!'

Mungo's anger was about to rip, so Felix broke in.

‘We're
family,
Vianna. The L'Estranges and Quayles might fight like cat and dog but when the chips are down we close ranks.' He added apologetically, ‘mixed metaphors, but you know what I mean.'

Mungo rested his hand on Toby's head. The little boy's heart was in his eyes as he asked Vianna, ‘Don't you
like
us?'

Oh my God, I've hurt him
. ‘No, no Toby. You're all perfect – but I can't . . .'

Mungo cut across her. ‘The kids will have a good life with me. What do you care? You claimed you wanted kids. That was just a ploy for sympathy, wasn't it!'

Vianna's voice cracked. ‘That's cruel – and you know it!'

She looked from face to face, humiliated by the truth she read in their eyes.

Somehow they all know. I'm only half a woman.

The tears she had never shed until now, suddenly poured down her face. Shocked, Felix broke in, ‘Hey Mungo, steady on!'

‘Keep your nose out of this, Felix. I can handle this!'

Mungo spun around to face her. Standing there with his arms stretched wide to encompass his family, the wind whipped his long
hair and clothing around his body. Mungo looked like a handsome, desperate scarecrow.

‘Face the truth, girl. This is the best offer you ever had. I'm the man who loves you. I come saddled with three great little kids. I offered you a home and family of your own – and you rejected us. Well, piss off back to England. Maybe you'll have London at your feet. Good luck to you. We'll do just fine without you. I'll find myself a woman who has the guts to stick with us – a woman who'll share my dream. I'll make it reality. Just watch me!'

His words lacerated her. Vianna was saved from defending herself when she heard her name being called across the water from the
Bussorah Merchant.

Severin stood at the bow above the ship's figurehead of a bare-breasted woman. At the stern Jean-Baptiste was waving his hat and calling her name.

Vianna's voice carried on the wind. ‘Here I am!'

Jean-Baptiste cupped his hands to call back, ‘Hurry! We sail on the tide!'

Severin gestured to a shabbily dressed girl at his side. Her curtsey in Vianna's direction indicated she was the lady's maid Severin had promised her.

Toby tugged at her sleeve, wide-eyed with anxiety. ‘You'll come back home to us, won't you, Vianna?'

Kentigern L'Estrange said with authority, ‘Boomerangs always return, Toby.'

Vianna clung to her one chance to escape to a new life on the far side of the world – away from Mungo.
Nothing will change my mind!

She read the desperation in Mungo's eyes. She knew that for whichever woman was fool enough to love him, it would always be thus. The love. Lust. Lies. Laughter.
And Mungo's magic stories. Never to know what tomorrow holds – feast or famine. That's not going to happen to me!

She looked at the figures standing stiff and unsmiling as if posed for a family portrait. All eyes were fixed on her – waiting.

Suddenly, she recognised who they were.

Vianna pushed baby Fanny back into Mungo's arms. ‘Here, hold her!

She picked up her skirts and ran to the water's edge, cupped her hands and called across the water to the
Bussorah Merchant
.

‘Sorry! I can't join you. My family needs me!'

Jean-Baptiste gave a Gallic shrug but called back, ‘Bon chance!'

Severin was stony-faced. With a swift gesture his finger slit his throat.

Mungo bundled the babe back into Molly's arms. He took Vianna's face between his hands and kissed her hard and long as if no one else in the world existed.

Breathless, Vianna clung to his arm to steady herself. ‘I'm still not going to marry you, Mungo. I'm a mistress, not a wife.'

‘So you said. I can live with that,' he said. She knew it was a lie.

•  •  •

Vianna looked with misgivings around the barge as Silent Jack steered it through choppy seas towards the northern shore. Mungo held fast to Toby's shoulder while the boy stroked Boadicea to reassure her. At her feet in the two wicker baskets little Gordon and little Fanny chortled away to each other in their own language.

Vianna flinched as they passed the
Bussorah Merchant
being tugged out towards the Heads. Severin was nowhere in sight.

‘You realise, Mungo, I only have the clothes I stand up in.'

‘Don't worry. You won't need any clothes
tonight,
' he promised.

What am I doing here? I must be crazy. My portraits could have made me the toast of London . . . an actress at Drury Lane. I could have made my own fortune – without Severin . . .

She had a sudden urge to laugh out loud.
And what do I have? Three children, a cow, one dress to my name – and Mungo.

Standing there in the headwind, he turned his head as if he read her thoughts. Their eyes met. She felt a sudden wave of heat and so much love it choked her throat.

‘Tell me, Mungo. That story about your plans for glorious Melbourne, the gold rush – and Vianna's Boutique. That was all just a tall tale about the future, wasn't it?'

The sun was shining directly in Vianna's eyes. Just for a moment she thought she saw a young man standing behind Mungo. His face was shining as he touched his forehead in a gentle salute of farewell to her.

Of course she was simply blinded by the sun. There was no one else there.

‘Well, Mungo – was it true or not?'

Mungo reached across and brushed a stray lock of Vianna's hair from her eyes.

‘If it is a lie I tell, sweetheart – it was a lie told to
me
.'

The Lace Balcony
is a work of fiction, a marriage between imagination and history played out against the 1827–32 world of the Penal Colony of New South Wales, which then encompassed the penal settlement at Moreton Bay (now renowned for its beauty in the state of Queensland) and as far south as Port Phillip Bay (site of the predicted ‘glorious' Melbourne' in the state of Victoria).

This book could not have been written without the help, expertise and encouragement of a number of medical experts, historians, librarians and archivists, whose input I value greatly.

Faced with contradictory accounts by respected historians or in newspapers of the era, and given the three-months-plus delay between sailing ships bearing accounts of the Northern Hemisphere's wars, revolutions, political changes and latest fashions, I chose the opinions my characters would have held in
their
era. I don't necessarily agree with them – but then they didn't have my benefit of historical hindsight.