Eventually Aiden smiled, as if satisfied. Edwina thought of her brother’s detective work on behalf of their father. The days of their sibling secrets were over.
‘Well, Will’s gone now so we don’t need to worry about him. But the man who came to the house today while I was out? Did you see him? Mrs Ryan said she sent him down to Han Lee’s camp to find you.’
In the past Edwina would have shared that she’d met Mason at the circus, that she liked him and thought it surprising he was friends with Ridgeway. ‘Yes, he’s staying with Charles Ridgeway.’
‘Really?’
‘Came to see Father apparently,’ answered Edwina. ‘But I have no idea why. You didn’t meet him on Monday?’
‘No.’
‘He spoke as if he’d met you.’
‘Ridgeway was travelling with friends. They were outside in the garden, talking and drinking liquor and it couldn’t have been much after midmorning. Imagine taking alcohol in the morning.’
‘Yes,’ Edwina smiled. ‘Imagine drinking it at all.’
Aiden topped up his tea. ‘Well, Ridgeway has until tomorrow to repay the monies owed and then he’ll be served. Perhaps he hoped to delay the payment using his friend as a go-between.’
Edwina tucked her feet up on the horsehair chair, the porcelain cup warming her hands. ‘Perhaps.’ They sat in the growing semi-darkness, the fire in the hearth and the single kerosene lamp providing two patches of dismal light.
‘I didn’t really fall over Jed that afternoon.’ He had a right to know what had happened. ‘Father and I had a serious disagreement.’
Although it was a warm night, Aiden rose to put a small length of timber on the fire to keep the flies at bay. ‘Are you telling me that he struck you?’
‘Yes.’
He stopped to study the yellow-green swelling of her skin before returning to his seat. ‘Why?’
‘Because I’m not happy, Aiden. I’m tired of my suggestions regarding the property being continually ignored and yet Father seems to feel it’s quite alright to treat me like a labourer. Well, it’s not. And now we know that Father has more money than he lets us believe. Which means we don’t have to live like this.’ As soon as the words spluttered forth, Edwina knew that Aiden didn’t share her sentiments.
He leant forward, resting the cup on a bony knee. ‘Father says that it’s time you were married with your own home and children.’
Aiden addressed her so succinctly that for a moment Edwina imagined that it was their father speaking and not her earnest younger brother.
‘He says that women get maudlin, that you need something else to occupy you.’
‘Something to …’ There was a ribbon-edged pillow cradling her back and Edwina tossed it at Aiden, striking him in the arm and upsetting the tea he held.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ he complained, wiping at the spilt liquid.
‘I’m already occupied, working. That’s all I ever do here. Really, Aiden, I never imagined you would sit there like a parrot on a perch and repeat what Father’s fed you. It’s not 1900 anymore, you know.’
‘Everyone has to contribute, Edwina.’
‘And I have and do,’ she argued. ‘It would be different if there was something to look forward to occasionally, a trip to town, the circus. It’s not much to ask for. It’s called life, Aiden. I want a life.’
‘Well you must have made him very mad.’ Aiden’s lips pressed together, emphasising the cleft of his chin. ‘It was awful cutting down Mother’s tree. I was sorry that happened. That you made him so mad that he did it,’ he accused. ‘It meant something to me too, you know.’
Edwina sat the tea to one side. ‘I know. I saw them do it. You blame me, but Father gave the order. Don’t you think that killing Mother’s tree was rather mean of him? Disrespectful of her memory?’
‘I think you’re the one that needs to show some respect,’ countered Aiden.
‘I angered him and he has the right to destroy something important in retaliation? I’m loyal to a point, Aiden, but doing something like that is petty.’
‘Edwina, I’m disappointed that it’s because of you that the tree Mother loved had to go, but I do understand why Father did it. For pity’s sake. Every morning you place an object at its base as if you’re leaving an offering at a holy shrine. Every morning,’ he reiterated. ‘Do you know how you look with your sheer shift and shawl, barefoot at dawn? It’s time for you to grow up, sister. I miss Mother too, but she’s gone, Edwina. Gone.’
Shuffling in the seat, Edwina stared into the fire.
‘You haven’t been yourself the last few months. Always complaining, going to the circus unattended, riling Father until he’s fit to strike you. I’m telling you this for your own good. Father sees similarities in your behaviour to Mother and I shouldn’t have to remind you that she ended up in an asylum.’
Edwina visualised hitting her brother across the face, her palm stinging with the effort. ‘I can’t believe you just said that.’
Aiden’s brow smoothed. ‘You’ll just have to put up with things the way they are. I mean, until you marry and have a place of your own.’
‘So I can do the exact same thing on another property?’ answered Edwina.
Aiden stared at her. ‘But that’s what women and men do, Edwina, they marry. The women have babies and the men run the businesses and –’
Edwina rose to stare at the fire. The flames curled around the few pieces of wood, creating a thin line of smoke. ‘Maybe I want to run the business. Contribute ideas. I do have a brain, Aiden. I wanted to do something different, that’s all. I thought of getting a job, perhaps training to be a secretary.’ She faced him. ‘Don’t you want to be your own person? Earn your own money? Be free to spend it as you wish and do as you wish?’
Aiden finished his tea. ‘I know you think that Father’s been hard on us, Edwina. But he’s done his best. Anyway, the property will be mine one day. It mightn’t be my choice, but it’s all I know and I’m grateful for it. For the living.’
‘Maybe if I was in your position I’d feel differently.’ She rested a hand on the mantelpiece where a pair of emu eggs decorated the polished timber. The carvings were amateurish. Tiny stylised trees etched into the hard shell and painted by their mother. ‘And maybe if you bothered to put yourself in my position you wouldn’t be so harsh.’ His silence gave Edwina courage to go on. ‘The property, this life, Father’s controlling ways … none of it is enough for me, little brother. You might be content to keep living the way we do but I’m not. Not now. Things will never be the same between Father and me, Aiden. He said some things to me. Awful things.’
‘Then you will have to regain his favour. Be the pleasant daughter that’s expected because he’ll never let you leave here unless it’s to be married. Better that you let Father find you a suitable husband. You’ll be happy once you’ve settled down with a good man.’
Edwina stoked the burning wood with a brass poker. ‘He will never find me a good match in this district, Aiden. It’s an impossibility.’
‘Rubbish, Edwina. That’s pretty much all he’s talked about the last couple of years. Seeing you well married. Then me. Father’s hopeful. Very hopeful. A good marriage for you will be the making of this family, that’s what he says.’ Aiden placed his cup and saucer on the tray.
‘The making of him, you mean.’ Hanging the poker back in its cradle, Edwina clasped her hands tightly together. Forgiving Aiden wasn’t difficult. Her brother was young, a giddy colt still trying on the boots of manhood. In the interim he followed the role model offered, the man of the house, the person who’d taken on the task of being mother and father to a heartbroken eight-year-old boy. Hamilton Baker was better with his son than with his daughter. There was an affinity there, a shared knowing that manifested in a wall of unfathomable men’s thinking and patriarchal inheritance that Edwina could never hope to breach. However, her tolerance didn’t extend to maintaining Aiden’s ignorance. It was time he grew up.<
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‘You know some of the reasons why it will be difficult to find a good match for me, Aiden.’ Edwina spoke firmly, an elbow resting on the ledge above the fireplace. ‘Our father is a money-lender, first and foremost. He is not a pastoralist or a grazier, nor a true farmer. We are a breed apart to the people of this district. If we were not we would be invited to functions. We would have friends.’
‘Friends?’ repeated Aiden.
‘Yes. You and I have never had one, either of us. Think about that.’
‘Well, I guess –’
‘And while you try and convince yourself of some good reason why we find ourselves in this sorry, friendless state, there is something else you should be aware of. Something Mrs Ryan told me.’
‘What?’ Aiden edged forward on the chair.
‘Father has been seeing a wealthy divorcee in Wywanna for a number of years now. They meet in Father’s rooms, which she apparently decorated at great expense. All of it paid for by Father. There are rumours about the woman’s background – undesirable gossip that is clearly well known if our cook is aware of it.’ The fire grew warm. Edwina returned to her seat.
Aiden’s arm slipped from where it lay on the armrest to dangle limply.
‘You didn’t know then?’ she asked, half expecting for the confidence to have been shared between father and son. Edwina picked at the hem of her yellow waistcoat, the stitching unravelling. ‘So you see what Father says and wants for us and what he does are very different things,’ she cautioned. ‘Frankly, he’s a hypocrite.’
‘A divorcee? Do you know her, this woman?’ Aiden’s solemn intrigue was replaced by rounded eyes.
‘No.’ Edwina was sorry to be the one to fracture her brother’s opinion of their father. ‘Father took her to the circus last Saturday. Mrs Ryan saw her. Her name is Gloria Zane. The relationship has been ongoing for a good many years.’
Aiden said the woman’s name, stretching out the foreign sounding letters so the consonant buzzed as if spoken by a child learning his words. ‘That accounts for not wanting us to go.’
Edwina gave the strand on the waistcoat a final tug. The thread came loose and she wound the stray cotton tight around a finger, the tip growing red. It was a relief to share their father’s secret relationship. ‘I understand how you’re feeling, Aiden. I was very shocked and disappointed when Mrs Ryan told me.’
‘Old Mrs Ryan should have kept her thoughts to herself.’
‘Why?’ countered Edwina. ‘Why should we be kept in the dark when this sordid affair affects the entire family? If it was all above board Father wouldn’t have kept the relationship a secret, would he?’
‘So he’s there with this Mrs Zane now?’
Edwina knew that tone, what it meant. Aiden was still weighing up the information, measuring it against what he knew, what he believed.
‘Maybe that’s why he wanted you to be married, so he could bring her here as his wife. Father knows how much you still miss Mother, Edwina. The tree was proof of that. Maybe he thought you’d make things difficult if he remarried. Maybe that’s why he kept her a secret.’
‘What?’
‘You heard what I said.’ Aiden rose. ‘You’ve always been jealous because Father favoured me over you. He probably thought you’d be jealous of her as well. Well, I’m sorry you’re not happy with your life, Edwina, but maybe you should be grateful for what you do have instead of causing problems.’
A howling dog drew Edwina to the window. The grassy crest at the front of the homestead was invisible. Sensing movement she closed the shutters, latching them securely. ‘Someone’s outside.’
Aiden lifted the lantern, the weak light illuminating the knotted tongue-and-groove walls as it swayed in his hand. ‘You’re sure?’ Not waiting for an answer, he took the rifle down from above the mantelpiece and, handing the light to Edwina, he loaded the firearm.
Outside the barking ceased.
‘Who do you …?’
Edwina was shushed with a finger to her lips. ‘Quiet.’
The knock was sharp. Two brash heavy thumps.
Aiden stepped past his sister, hurrying to the front door. ‘Keep close with the light,’ he directed. Edwina did as she was told. At the landing Aiden flung the door open, lifted the rifle. ‘Who’s there?’ he called.
Leaves showered from the roof above. Air swished through the trees, warm and dusty, as the light from the lantern made a dim circle in the tarry dark.
The silhouette of horse and man grew visible.
‘Who’s there?’ demanded Aiden, stepping forwards.
Edwina’s mouth dried as Aiden cocked the rifle. An indecipherable figure grew out of the night. It was as if the stranger was bereft of features; only his clothes, the garb of a stockman, were discernible. A horse whinnied softly. Leather creaked. There was a noise of sorts, a soft groan. In reply the dogs began howling again.
The man moved onto the verandah, boots sure and steady. Aiden lifted the firearm and aimed at the approaching figure. ‘I’ll shoot,’ he warned.
The figure emerged in the light of the lantern. Davidson faced them, unreadable. His dark eyes glittered as he pushed past them, carrying their father in his arms.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The stockman strode ahead, boots striking the uneven boards, Hamilton’s arms and legs dangling like a child’s. Behind him Aiden guided Davidson’s path as best he could, the lantern throwing silhouettes on the wall. The aboriginal’s shadow stretched to the ceiling while their father appeared as a lump with four appendages. How had her father become so very small?
‘Mrs Ryan?’ Edwina shouted. ‘Mrs Ryan!’
Edwina pushed ahead of the men, yanking the quilt from the bed. ‘What happened, Davidson?’ she asked, lighting the wick of the lantern on the dresser and replacing the glass flue. Davidson lay their father on the bed.
‘More light!’ Aiden demanded.
Edwina took another two lanterns from the cupboard in the hallway then returned to their father’s room. Lining up the pale green glass lights she lit these as well.
‘Mrs Ryan?’ Edwina yelled again as the room grew brighter.
‘Edwina, stop screaming.’ Aiden took her firmly by the shoulders. ‘Clear head. Alright? Keep a clear head.’
‘I wasn’t screaming. Mrs Ryan knows some medicine.’
Edwina looked to Davidson. The aboriginal was sliding off their father’s boots and covering his legs with the discarded quilt. Then together he and Aiden removed their father’s coat and waistcoat. He was covered with dirt and dust. A bloody cut to his forehead was pitted with dirt.
‘He must have fallen from his horse.’ Aiden addressed the stockman. ‘Is that what happened, Davidson?’ he asked slowly. ‘You went looking for Father and you found him on the ground?’
They waited.
The stockman gave a single incline of his head.
‘Right. Thank you for bringing him home.’ Removing his shirt they checked for bruising. There were no other injuries that they could tell.
The aboriginal dragged a hardwood chair from a corner and sat next to the bed.
‘Look at his face, Edwina,’ said Aiden. ‘There’s something wrong with his face.’
Pouring water into the bowl, Edwina wrung out a rag, wiping the grime from their father. Apart from the nasty wound and the cranial lump, Aiden was right. One side of their father’s face appeared to have slipped. The cheek drooped on the right, the lip appearing as if it were being pulled down by a piece of twine. ‘It must be the way he’s lying,’ suggested Edwina, looking to Davidson for answers.
Mrs Ryan appeared at the foot of the bed, chest swelling with air, a gnarled hand clasping a brass bedknob. ‘What by all that’s good and right has happened here?’ Peering at the prone figure she muttered something unintelligible. ‘’Tis the palsy to be sure,’ she told them. ‘To be sure your father has been struck.’
A spatter of leaves hit the corrugated iron roof.
‘Davidson found him. H
e’d come off his horse. What do you think, Mrs Ryan?’ asked Edwina hopefully. ‘What should we do?’
The patient moaned.
‘I don’t have the learning to help him. Broken bones and cuts, that’s the extent of my knowledge, not doctoring to do with this. If it’s the palsy he won’t be able to move. I’ve seen it before. Years ago. No,’ she shook her head, ‘there’s nothing to do for a body, especially when it’s so afflicted.’
Aiden looked at the figure on the bed. ‘It’s too dark to ride to Wywanna and fetch the doctor. I’ll wait and leave at first light.’
‘If he lasts the night,’ the Scotswoman warned.
‘That’s enough,’ Edwina complained. ‘You might as well go to bed, Mrs Ryan, if you can’t help; there’s nothing that can be done till sunrise.’
‘I’m telling you straight.’ Mrs Ryan’s mouth grew thick and bunched like a knob of cauliflower. ‘If he lives the night,’ she said doubtfully, ‘get him up and about. Let him get his senses back. That’s the only hope you have.’ She pointed at Davidson. ‘And him? He’s to stay with your father under the self-same roof?’
The stockman, elbows on knees, stared at his boss.
‘’Tis a bad sign, it is,’ Mrs Ryan began to back out of the room, ‘having him here.’ She crossed thick arms. ‘It’s not right, not right I say. You don’t have a black keep guard. Not with their unfathomable ways and him not being able to speak. I’ll not be keeping with this, young Aiden, no, I –’
Davidson hissed at the cook. The woman bolted, her steps retreating down the hall.
‘I’ll sit with Father,’ offered Edwina, covering his chest with the quilt.
‘No,’ Aiden corrected, ‘Davidson and I will stay with him. You go to bed.’
‘But –’
‘I doubt when he wakes that he’d be pleased to see you, Edwina, not after everything that’s happened. And after the way you spoke tonight, I couldn’t allow it.’
Surely he joked? Aiden held the door to the bedroom, his knuckles whitening on the doorjamb. Edwina looked at their father, to a disinterested Davidson. Words of argument formed as Aiden moved towards her, effectively pushing her out of the room.
An Uncommon Woman Page 24