The River Charm (8 page)

‘But I don't understand,' said Charlotte. ‘Why can't you just tell the executors what to do? Oldbury is
ours
. Mr Barton and the executors have no right to it!'

Mamma pulled Charlotte to her feet and gazed steadily into her eyes. ‘Charlotte, they have every right,' she said bitterly. ‘I have written to my lawyers. I have tried everything. But as a woman I
have
no rights. My husband owns all my property – not me. Mr Barton is my husband. He can do what he likes and I can do nothing.'

A shiver of revulsion ran up Charlotte's spine.
I hate him.
I wish he would go away and leave us alone. I wish John Lynch would shoot him.

Mamma straightened her back and hugged Charlotte. ‘I am sorry, my dearest. I should not have troubled you with all this. I do not want you to worry. There must be something I can do.'

Mamma slipped her hand into her pocket and ran her fingers over the pebble hidden there.

 

8

Stealing the Furniture

 

Oldbury, Summer 1839

On Tuesday Mamma rode into Berrima early to see Mr Chalkley about retrieving the items that the convicts had been trying to sell and to warn the businesses in town that they were not to buy any property that Mr Barton should try to sell them.

As she came downstairs, Charlotte was surprised to see Mr Barton dressed and emerging from the breakfast room, a cup of coffee in one hand. He usually slept most of the morning.

‘Good morning, Charlotte,' said Mr Barton jovially. ‘Has your mother left already?'

‘Yes, sir. She left a few minutes ago to ride to Berrima,' replied Charlotte.

Mr Barton smiled at Charlotte. ‘Good girl, and when do you think she'll be back?' he asked.

Charlotte frowned. ‘She said not to expect her until teatime this afternoon.'

‘Excellent,' replied Mr Barton, taking a large swig of coffee. ‘Now, I have a lot to do this morning, so I don't want any of you children in my way. Understood? I'm sure you are responsible enough to take care of your siblings while your mother is away?'

Charlotte swallowed. ‘Yes, Mr Barton. I'll make sure they don't bother you.'

‘Good. I have some sweets here that you can have if you keep them well away.' Mr Barton handed her a paper bag of red-and-green boiled lollies.

Charlotte took them reluctantly. She didn't feel like accepting sweets from her stepfather, so she hid them in the kitchen where Louisa or James couldn't see them. She didn't think they'd be so scrupulous about accepting bribes from him.

Charlotte rounded up her siblings, their bonnets and shawls, Samson the dog, Maugie the koala and took them all for a walk. First they visited the cool, dim dairy to beg more milk from John the dairyman. He obliged, giving them an iron bucket filled with foaming, creamy milk.

Charlotte dipped her fingers in the milk for Maugie to lick. They headed through the courtyard, past the stables, carriage house, store and vegetable gardens. Charley waved to them from the stable, where he was pushing a wheel­barrow piled high with manure and straw.

The wallabies hopped along behind the children, just in case the bucket held hay or grain. Charlotte felt troubled.
What is Mr Barton up to? There's something he's trying to hide.

Well behind the house was a large orchard of about eight acres, planted with many different types of fruit trees. Wide paths were mown between the trees, with the rounded domes of beehives placed along the fence. Five orphan lambs came running, their long tails twitching at the sight of the bucket.

Mr Ash had given them the lambs to raise by hand when their mothers had died. Louisa and James took turns to let the lambs drink from the bucket, while Emily tried to stop Louisa from being knocked over by the exuberant orphans.

James ran up and down the grassy avenue with Samson chasing him and barking loudly. Charlotte picked some long grass and plaited it. Emily sat down in the grass under an apple tree and began picking tiny daisies and weaving them into a crown for Louisa.

‘A crown fit for a fairy princess,' said Emily, taking off Louisa's bonnet and setting the crown on her head.

Louisa grinned with her gap-toothed smile and stroked her ringlets back behind her ears. ‘I'm a fairy princess,' she told Charlotte.

Charlotte nodded absent-mindedly.

‘Can you make me wings?' Louisa asked Emily.

Emily frowned and looked around. ‘Perhaps back at the house I could make some, poppet,' she replied, weaving a necklace out of daisies.

Louisa jumped up. ‘Well, come on, then. Let's go back and make some wings.'

Emily glanced at Charlotte, who pulled Louisa into her lap and said, ‘We cannot go back to the house now, poppet. Mr Barton would be cross.'

‘But I want fairy wings,
now
,' Louisa insisted, her lip pouting.

‘I know,' said Emily. ‘Why don't we make you some wings from the bonnets?'

Emily took Louisa's discarded white bonnet and tied the ribbons around one shoulder, leaving the headpiece as a frilled white wing. Charlotte pulled off her own bonnet, which Emily tied to the other, then draped over the other shoulder to make the right wing.

‘Pretty wings for a princess,' soothed Emily. ‘Now how about a bracelet?'

Charlotte glanced back towards the house, which was out of sight behind the outbuildings and trees. ‘Are you hungry?' she asked James as he raced past.

James, who was always starving, stopped and grinned with anticipation. ‘I'm famished.'

‘Yes,' added Louisa. ‘When is Mamma back?'

‘Later,' said Emily. ‘When she has finished all her business in town.'

Charlotte pulled Louisa's chin gently so she was looking at her. ‘I'm going to creep back to the house on a secret mission to fetch us some food,' she explained. ‘But it's really important that you stay here with Emily. Don't follow me, or Mr Barton will be annoyed.'

Louisa's eyes widened. She knew what Mr Barton was like when he was angry.

‘We can play fairies and witches,' suggested Emily. ‘You can be the fairy princess Titania, and I'll be the evil witch Malevolence, who has captured and imprisoned you in the tower.'

Charlotte smiled at Emily in thanks.

‘I'll come with you, Charlotte,' offered James.

‘Thank you, James, but it might be best if you stay here,' Charlotte suggested.

‘We need you to be the brave knight Sir Lancelot to vanquish Malevolence,' Emily reminded him.

James picked up two apple tree branches that had fallen to the ground. ‘Quick, Louisa – you climb into your tower,' he ordered, handing Emily one of the branches. Louisa obediently scrambled up the trunk of the apple tree, her daisy crown slightly askew and her wings lopsided.

‘
En garde
, foul witch,' James declared, raising his weapon in salute. ‘I am here to rescue fair Princess Titania.'

Emily grinned, threw off her bonnet and adopted a fencing pose, brandishing her branch.

‘Prepare to die an ignoble death, you insolent mortal,' retorted Emily. ‘No man can defeat the supernatural power of Malevolence.'

The witch and the knight began fighting, James with his left arm tucked behind his back, Emily with her skirts hitched up in one hand. It looked like Malevolence had the upper hand as Sir Lancelot was beaten back under the strength of her attack.

‘Save me, Sir Lancelot,' squealed Louisa, her legs dangling from the branch above. ‘You can't let the witch win.'

Charlotte grinned then raced downhill towards the back of the house.

Outside the stable, Charlotte was surprised to see a team of bullocks harnessed to a dray with John the bullock driver standing at their heads. The dray usually took the wool and wheat to the markets in Sydney and returned with sacks of supplies to last for months. Sometimes it transported sacks of grain and vegetables to market in Berrima or the surrounding towns. This time, the dray was being loaded with furniture – Oldbury furniture. The long, red cedar table was up-ended on the dray bed and wrapped in blankets. The dining room chairs were lashed on top. The elegant sideboard was set in the middle of the courtyard, beside Mamma's favourite armchair.

A loud shouting came from the back verandah. Charlotte started, then ducked out of sight inside the stable. She peered through a crack in the stable wall. Through it she could see Mr Barton coercing two farm labourers who were struggling to remove Mamma's large oak desk from the office.

‘He bad man,' came a whisper from the stall beside her. Charlotte peered around to find Charley lying in the straw.

‘Charley, he's stealing all our furniture!' whispered Charlotte.

‘Yes, missus gone to town.'

‘Can you help me, please, Charley?' asked Charlotte. ‘I have to ride to town to find my mother. If Mr Barton sees me he'll be furious.'

Charley thought carefully. He also knew what a terrible temper Mr Barton had when he was crossed. ‘Yes, Miss Charlotte. What can we do?'

Charlotte paused. ‘Could you help me catch Ophelia and saddle her up?'

Charley sprang to his feet. ‘We need grain,' he suggested, taking down a halter and lead.

Charlotte filled a bucket with some grain and the two slipped out the back. It took precious minutes to coax Ophelia into being caught and still more time to saddle her up. Charley pulled the girth firmly.

Charlotte peered through the spy-hole in the stable wall. The cedar sideboard, desk and armchair had been lashed to the dray and draped with blankets. The two men were now struggling through the back door under the weight of the sofa from the drawing room.

‘Thank you so much, Charley,' said Charlotte. ‘I am very grateful. If anyone asks, tell them I went for a ride up to Gingenbullen. Could you please tell my sisters and brother not to go near the house for anything, and perhaps take them some food. Tell Bridget I asked you to fetch some.'

Charley nodded and flashed a wide smile, bright white in his dark face.

‘Don't worry, Miss Charlotte,' said Charley. ‘I look after them.'

Charlotte led Ophelia to the fence and used a rail to help her mount into the side-saddle. Charlotte paused beside the stable, watching the proceedings anxiously.

It's important that he doesn't know that I know
, thought Charlotte.
I'll creep away silently, then ride like the wind to Berrima to find Mamma.

The men went back inside to fetch more furniture. The bullocks twitched and fretted, swishing away flies with their tails. The sun beat down on the laden dray. Charlotte urged Ophelia forward into a walk. The horse pranced and cavorted nervously, sensing Charlotte's anxiety. Charlotte skirted around the house, avoiding the formal gardens in front that could be seen from the drawing and dining room windows.

She splashed across the rivulet, the water rising to her horse's knees, and forced her way through a hedge and onto the carriageway. Once there, she risked a slow trot, heading north-west, hoping the hoof beats could not be heard back at the house.

Around the bend the dirt track stretched before her, bordered by thick hedgerows. Charlotte kicked her heel into Ophelia's sides and the mare broke into a canter. Charlotte leant forward, urging her to gallop faster. The driveway to Oldbury curved then straightened, flanked by a formal avenue of elms and poplars. Ophelia stretched her neck, enjoying the gallop, her hooves kicking up clods of red earth.

At the end, Charlotte turned right onto the main South Road. She had never ridden this way by herself before. This part of the road, just a couple of miles from Berrima village, was a common haunt of highwaymen and bushrangers. To the left was Mereworth Estate, owned by her father's brother, Uncle John Atkinson. Mereworth was now home to the Three Legs of Man Inn, which was frequented by the local labourers, Berrima soldiers and infamous bushrangers – and, of course, Mr Barton. It had more than once been implicated in a local murder or robbery, just like Oldbury itself.

A labourer on Mereworth called out to her, but Charlotte ignored him and galloped on. When Ophelia tired, Charlotte let her slow into a trot, then after a few minutes kicked her back into a steady canter. Within half an hour Charlotte was cantering across the sandstone bridge and down the rutted main road of dusty Berrima.

She slowed Ophelia into a trot as they entered the rectangle of the village green, which was surrounded by inns and houses built of sandstone and red brick. Outside the Victoria Inn, Charlotte recognised a brickmaker named James Welling. He usually worked at Oldbury but Mr Barton had set him to work building a couple of cottages on land that he had recently purchased in Berrima.

‘Mr Welling, have you seen my mother?' asked Charlotte. ‘I need to find her as a matter of urgency.'

The brickmaker shook his head. ‘No, but you might try the store near the Surveyor General Inn. She often has business there,' he suggested, gesturing further north with his hand.

Charlotte called out her thanks as she cantered up the street. Near the store, Charlotte recognised her mother's bay mare, with its distinctive white blaze, tied to the hitching post. Charlotte tethered Ophelia beside her and ran inside the store. It was crowded with ladies poring over ribbon and feathers, men testing harnesses and small children jostling over the sweets display.

‘Excuse me, Mrs Mason, have you seen my mother by any chance?' asked Charlotte of a woman whom she recognised.

Mrs Mason peered down her nose at Charlotte. ‘Your mother?' said Mrs Mason, looking as though she had accidently sucked on a slice of lemon. ‘I believe I saw Mrs Barton walking to the courthouse.'

Mrs Mason looked Charlotte up and down with a dis­approving glare before continuing. ‘You should know better than to ride into town with no hat or bonnet on your head, with your hair hanging down your back like a complete hoyden.' She sniffed. ‘There is never a reason why a lady should be in an unseemly haste. You are not all alone? I am surprised your mother let you leave the house like that. But then, perhaps she does not realise how young ladies are expected to conduct themselves. My daughters would never –'