‘That would be right. A person doesn’t have a moment to herself. No sooner has his Lordship been favoured with tea and biscuits than the daughter appears demanding the same. Not for her the lowly task of boiling water or steeping leaves. No, we’ll leave that to the cook. For Susan Ryan has nothing better to do than run after the likes of the Baker family. A woman might as well still be married.’ Lips pressed firmly together, she narrowed her gaze at the potato she held. ‘Might as well not have run away from the back of a husband’s hand.’ She stabbed the blade into the tuber, prising free a black eye. ‘Might as well –’
Edwina dropped the tray on the kitchen table, the fine porcelain cup and saucer falling and smashing on the ground. ‘Can you please just make some tea?’
Mrs Ryan loooked up from her task. ‘The Almighty save us,’ the cook muttered, dropping the vegetable. Wiping her hands carefully on a rag, she led Edwina to a chair. ‘Was it that Will fellow that done it, Edwina?’ she asked, pushing her firmly on the shoulders so that Edwina sat heavily. The woman lifted Edwina’s chin, tilted her cheek towards the light. ‘I’ve seen him mooning after you. As if he were good enough for Mr Baker’s daughter. Never liked the boy. Moment I saw him I said to myself, now there’s one who’s been dragged by the scruff of his neck through the sewer.’ Dampening the corner of her apron in a bowl of dirty dish water, she wiped at Edwina’s face. ‘Oh he’s a pretty one but ever since he came here things haven’t been right. There’s meat missing from the keeper every day and when I goes out and about, well he’s always skulking about the stables. Sly, that’s what he is. And currying favour: “Can I help you with that washing, Mrs Ryan?” he says to me. “Do you need more wood, Mrs Ryan?”’ The woman tutted, pressing her fingers along the bridge of Edwina’s nose and cheekbone, repeating the process when Edwina flinched with the pain. ‘Irish Nationalist I’d say. He’s done his best to water down that accent of his, but I can pick them, I can. Troublemakers that lot are, through and through. Always have been.’ Wiping her hands, she rested them on her hips. ‘Nothing’s broke. So there’s some good to be seen. But there’s blood.’ She examined the discoloured material and then her handiwork. ‘But the worst of it has stopped. There’ll be a fine bruise on that cheek of yours, a very fine bruise. Now you sit there and I’ll go tell your father. He’ll have that damn rascal with the coppers in Wywanna quicker than you can say lickety-split.’
Edwina reached out, grasping the cook’s arm. ‘It wasn’t Will, Mrs Ryan. It … it was father.’
The older woman frowned as if unable to comprehend what she’d been told. ‘Your father?’ She sat, the chair beneath giving a single ominous squeak.
Edwina nodded. ‘We had an argument.’
Mrs Ryan studied Edwina thoughtfully. ‘I’d have never thought it of the man. Well, I’m sorry, lass. I’ve felt the back of a man’s hand and it’s not a pretty thing to be used as a punching bag.’ The cook retreated to the stove where she poured tea from the large pot into a chipped cup. ‘Drink that. It’s boiled with sugar. Feed your blood it will. Make you get your strength back.’ She rested the back of her hand against Edwina’s brow. ‘You’re burning hot. Well, it would be the fright of it. Just goes to show you can have more than some folk but that don’t mean you’re any better. Any better at all.’ She clucked her tongue.
Edwina wiped at welling tears. ‘It was my fault.’
‘Now, I’ll not have that. Don’t go making excuses for it. It’s the excuses that make things worse. He did wrong. Leave it at that. A man should know not to hit a woman, unless she’s done something horrid. But a father … he’s taking advantage. Of course a girl like you, well you should be married by now. Out of the house and away from here. Oh I know it’s a daughter’s duty and there’s plenty that do it, staying on as the domestic, working the farm, but there’s plenty not suited to the task as well, and with a father like Mr Baker, well,’ she gave a snort of condemnation, ‘he ain’t got any excuse not to ensure you’re well married.’
From outside came the noise of garbled speech. The cook thrust her head out the door and recoiled in fright. ‘It’s a Chinese deluge,’ she said in fright.
‘They’re ringbarkers, Mrs Ryan,’ explained Edwina, feeling a growing tightness across her cheek. ‘That’s why Father wants the tea.’
‘I see,’ the cook answered coolly, ‘so now we’re to entertain the likes of them. Two days ago I thought we’d have to have the Wywanna coppers to dinner.’ She blinked. ‘Wasn’t meant to say nothing about their coming. Your father swore me to keep mum. He said they were here about Will. That I was to keep an eye on him. I weren’t surprised one bit.’
‘Don’t worry, Mrs Ryan, I know about them,’ replied Edwina tiredly. For a moment the circus debacle had been forgotten.
‘Well, that saves me from worry. Of course your father’s never been too fussed about who he keeps company with. White, yellow, black, brindle, rich, poor and that woman.’
‘What woman?’ Edwina looked up from where her palms cupped the hot tea.
Mrs Ryan chewed at a thin lower lip. ‘Chinese, eh? At least I’ll be able to buy some spices. Nearly out of cloves we are and you can’t run a kitchen without cloves, or cinnamon for that matter.’
‘Mrs Ryan,’ persevered Edwina, ‘what woman?’
‘The woman your father’s been seeing. I thought you knew?’ she said hesitantly. The cook busied herself filling a large boiler with water. ‘I’m not feeding them. I’ve nothing against yellow men but I’ve enough to do as it is.’
‘What woman, Mrs Ryan?’
The Scotswoman wiped her hands agitatedly on a rag. ‘There’s a woman,’ she began slowly. ‘She comes to Wywanna every year on account of your father.’ She lowered her voice. ‘A divorcee. They say the husband worked in Monte Carlo and that she’s the daughter of a lord or somesuch. Terribly rich she is with a house in town.’ The cook nodded. ‘Mixes with the wrong sort of people, she does. Artists and such like. Your father took her to the circus last weekend. Dressed she was in silk and satins, with a strand of pearls as long and as large as a rope of pearls could be. ’Course your father tried to keep her hidden, but I saw her. She’s very beautiful.’
Edwina took the cool compress Mrs Ryan offered, pressing it against her cheek. The faintness was yet to lessen, making it difficult to grasp what the older woman was saying. Would her father really be walking out with a divorced woman of dubious background? The cook must have misunderstood.
‘Of course a man can’t be expected to stay alone forever. It’s not in them. They’re not capable. They’re needy, helpless creatures despite their blather. Still, that don’t mean you can’t have principles.’
‘You’re saying my father is seeing another woman?’
Mrs Ryan’s muscled forearms folded across her stomach. ‘Yes.’
‘How long? How long has he been seeing her for, Mrs Ryan?’
‘Now don’t go having the vapours, girl.’ The cook fiddled with the pot of peeled potatoes, jabbing at the water-covered vegetables with a wooden spoon. ‘Ever since I came here,’ she admitted, meeting Edwina’s gaze. ‘It wasn’t my place to tell you, although I thought you’d probably guessed what with your father visiting the town so much, at certain times of the year,’ she concluded.
‘Like now?’ asked Edwina.
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Ryan. ‘I heard about their … friendship,’ she said delicately, ‘in town I did. Not that I’m a gossiper. No, miss, a telltale I’m not, but a person hears certain things and then sees particular things.’
Edwina pushed the cup of tea aside; if she consumed any more of the sickly drink she would be ill. ‘And what else have you heard?’
‘I really shouldn’t say.’
‘He is my father.’
Mrs Ryan sat the vegetable pot on the stovetop, the water splashing across the surface and sizzling loudly. ‘They say,’ she said with an air of confidentiality, looking out the window to ensure no-one approached, ‘that she decorated his rooms in the town.’
‘And?’
‘Like one of those places that gentlemen frequent, for company,’ the cook said knowledgeably.
Edwina was beginning to feel very hot. Hot and sick.
‘All reds and pinks and a bed with silk sheets,’ continued Mrs Ryan, her speech gathering momentum. ‘And there’s crates of champagne and special titbits to eat, all delivered regularly on your father’s say-so. Your father paid Mrs White the landlady a handsome sum to rent those rooms from her and it was the divorcee, Mrs Zane, who selected all the furnishings and had them freighted to Wywanna at great expense. Chests of drawers and fancy mirrors and rugs wove from silk.’ Mrs Ryan looked about the messy kitchen. ‘Apparently your father has fancy tastes, not that we see it here.’
‘Mrs Zane?’ Edwina repeated slowly. ‘That’s her name?’
‘Yes. Please don’t say anything on my account, Miss Edwina.’
Edwina leant unsteadily on the table as she stood, her neck and head aching from the force of the slap. ‘I appreciate you telling me, Mrs Ryan.’
Edwina carried the congealing fat outside to the cooler eastern side of the building. The timber-and-wire-mesh food safe was sheltered under the awning and she lifted the damp hessian bag to open the door, placing the lard in the cool interior. The galvanised tray atop the safe was nearly empty of water and she topped it up with trembling hands using the pitcher stored nearby, ensuring the hessian stayed wet and cool.
There was a gap in the wall of the kitchen hut. Edwina concentrated on the deep fissure, half wishing she could fall through it and never come out. Maybe that’s what her mother once wished. That she too could escape into another world away from the harshness of the man she married. If so, then Caroline made sure that desire came true.
Chapter Twenty
‘So it’s agreed?’ asked Hamilton of Han Lee, as they sat at the verandah table. The Chinaman was a savvy operator, living up to his reputation. Hamilton had first heard of the man two years ago, when the oriental and his men began to undercut established ringbarking teams in western New South Wales. The newcomers were not greeted favourably by those who’d enjoyed a monopoly on the business for a number of years. And when it became immediately obvious that the landowners’ loyalties lay with those who could do the job the quickest and the cheapest, there were fights and the burning of Chinese property in retaliation.
‘Mr Baker. Yes. We will do your ringbarking at this price.’ Han Lee lifted the china teacup, an extended pinkie emphasising a long tapering fingernail.
Four hundred yards away, Han Lee’s team sat cross-legged in rows on the ground, the wagon and horses at a standstill. Hamilton wasn’t used to an audience when conducting business and he rather felt as if he were performing on a stage. If Gloria were here she would undoubtedly remark on their sphinx-like expressions, a most disconcerting image when combined with their number and the sombre-coloured pants and long tunics they wore. Waiting slightly apart from the visitors were Aiden, Davidson and Will. Now the Chinese were here, the boy could be on his way. There was no need of him anymore.
‘We wish for land to grow our vegetables.’ Han Lee sipped the hot drink. ‘My extended family owns the Emporium in Wywanna and with an established garden we could supply this business more advantageously.’ He spoke melodiously, his almond eyes unblinking.
The ringbarking rate was very reasonable. Far more economical than expected. Hamilton guessed the clan was keen to get a foothold in the district and with the prices they offered that was assured. ‘You already stock a large range of goods,’ said Hamilton, recalling the silk scarfs and other small items purchased for Gloria.
Han Lee finished the tea, wiping his face fastidiously with a napkin. ‘Yes, imported from Canton and Hong Kong. But vegetables and fruits –’
‘Are always in high demand,’ Hamilton completed the Chinaman’s sentence. ‘And there is good money in market gardening.’ The statement was left unanswered. ‘There is available land around the town, but you would have conducted your own enquiries.’ He poured more tea.
‘This is true, but unfortunately,’ Han Lee dipped the long nail in the cup, stirring the black tea thoughtfully, ‘we have found some difficulties in acquiring it.’ He sucked at the wet nail.
‘Your English is very good. You were born here?’ asked Hamilton.
‘Yes. My grandfather and father were sojourners from our village and their descendants followed. We are businessmen, Mr Baker. We come here to make money. We stay, three years or thirty years, but we eventually go home. I have heard you are a man who helps others. That is why I have come to you.’
Hamilton leant back in his chair and tapped the table thoughtfully. ‘There are two plots of land on the outskirts of the town. One is next to the tannery, the other a small orchard. Do you need financial assistance?’
‘No, Mr Baker. Quong Howe attends to such things.’
Quong Howe owned the Emporium and was a headman of sorts, for on those Sunday mornings when Hamilton rode out of Wywanna after sampling the delights of Gloria’s many charms it appeared as if every Chinese in the district converged at the shop. ‘So you simply need me to broker the sale.’
‘We would pay for such assistance.’
‘Seven percent of the purchase price. I believe that is the going rate,’ offered Hamilton.
‘Mr Baker, you are a very tricky man,’ replied Han Lee. ‘I hoped for latitude in consideration of the generous rates we have just agreed. One percent,’ he countered firmly.
Hamilton took a sip of the now cold tea. ‘My dear man, I couldn’t possibly –’
Han Lee remained unblinking. ‘Two.’
‘So then we cannot do business,’ admitted Hamilton with only the slightest of misgivings. It was a paltry transaction and at the moment there were larger matters to occupy his thoughts.
‘Three percent. My final offer,’ said Han Lee.
Hamilton now understood why the Chinese were considered unknowable.
‘The land is important, Mr Baker, but with its purchase must come honour. If I were to agree with your terms I would be considered, how do you say it, fleeced.’
The Chinaman amused him. And God only knew after the sergeant’s accusations and Edwina’s outburst he could do with some diversion. ‘My daughter needs material for a new dress.’ He couldn’t go shopping for an appropriate catch if the goods were not presentable.
‘Ah, yes.’ Han Lee allowed the slightest of smiles to pass his lips. ‘And perhaps a case of rum for your kindness.’
‘I believe we can do business, sir,’ announced Hamilton, shaking Han Lee’s hand. ‘You can begin at the end of the week. Aiden will show you where to make camp. There’s a creek nearby. A good shady spot. I’ll have to finish up the current team first and then I’ll show you the paddock. One out, another in, so to speak.’
‘They won’t take kindly to our arrival,’ Han Lee stated the obvious.
‘The bush needs more competition and more investment in terms of money and labour. At the right price. The sooner everyone realises that the better for all concerned.’ Hamilton walked the Chinaman from the homestead. ‘If you wish to keep your men employed, we have plenty of prickly pear to be cut.’
‘You don’t believe in the success of these insects?’
‘Results first,’ replied Hamilton, ‘belief second.’
Han Lee’s followers stood immediately as their headman rejoined them. ‘Aiden, please show Mr Han Lee to the creek. They’ll make camp there until they start work.’
Aiden nodded. ‘Of course, Father.’
‘That toffy-nosed Chinaman hasn’t worked a day in his life,’ muttered Will as Aiden mounted his horse and rode off.
Hamilton pivoted on his heel, grateful that the head of the new ringbarking team was out of earshot. If Edwina had disgraced herself at the circus, Hamilton knew in his gut that this young man was involved.
‘I’m just saying –’
‘Say nothing.’ Hamilton couldn’t believe the little
ingrate was actually continuing to speak; the boy was talking about earning a pittance trapping rabbits while the Chinks banked twice as much from their market gardens. ‘I didn’t ask for your opinion, Will.’ Give a monkey a fur coat, he thought furiously, remembering the jacket the boy was lent on Monday.
‘And is that what happened to Edwina?’ Will practically spat out the words. ‘Did you not ask for her opinion either?’
Hamilton caught Davidson’s eye and seconds later the aboriginal’s fist struck Will in his midsection, the boy doubling over in pain.
‘It takes a man to hit a man,’ Will gasped, clutching his stomach.
Hamilton knew the lad would be trouble. Sensed it the moment he’d taken off, leaving a good job to join the circus.
The aboriginal took hold of Will by the forearm. Struggling, he stomped on Davidson’s boot, trying to pull his arm free; however, the stockman didn’t move or retaliate. Standing ram-rod straight he kept a steely gaze levelled on his captive and a hard grip.
‘Keep him here until there’s a bit of distance between Aiden and the Chinese, Davidson,’ Hamilton said sourly. ‘Then get him off my land.’ Guilty or not, it would be one less lead for the sergeant to follow. One less irritant. The boy barely paid for his board and keep as it was.
Chapter Twenty-one
Edwina turned over in bed, feeling the lumpy mattress beneath a hip. It was difficult to sleep with her face swollen and a sadness enveloping her thoughts. But sleep must have come for the waning moon was high, its glow sending a beam through the leaves of the orchard beyond. The stream of light formed a circular patch on the timber boards, illuminating the room ever so slightly. Edwina lay still, grateful for the haven of the bush and the peace it offered.
Yet something wasn’t quite right and it took a minute or so for the haze of sleep to fade and for her thoughts to clear. Edwina stared at the doorway, trying to think what bothered her. Then she understood. The door was closed after Mrs Ryan brought the tray to her room. She’d done it herself. Determined to shut out the world and to fall into a dreamless sleep.
An Uncommon Woman Page 19