by Téa Cooper
Goosebumps stippled Lettie’s skin and she stumbled from the room without a backward glance.
Olivia closed the door gently behind her and led the way down the hallway, opening door after door, just long enough for Lettie to glimpse the neatly made beds and drawn curtains in a series of bedrooms. ‘I moved out of the main house when Evie left. Peg sees to it now. Keeps the rooms clean.’ She threw open the final door releasing a waft of lily of the valley and revealed a large four-poster bed framed by gauzy white curtains. ‘Alice’s room.’ She snapped the door shut. ‘We’ll go downstairs now.’
Despite her bravado Olivia paused for a moment before grasping the banister taking each step one at a time. The front door still stood open, Oxley providing a shaggy doormat, and as they descended into the pool of morning sunshine Lettie’s sense of trespass lifted.
‘Are these Evie’s paintings?’ She gestured to the gold-framed pictures of the birds, wanting to confirm her belief.
Olivia nodded. ‘She loved her paints and pencils.’
‘They’re exquisite.’
‘William pandered to her. She never went without.’
Nothing made sense. These weren’t a child’s paintings, they were perfectly executed, better than anything she could manage, better than the sketches for which The Bulletin handsomely paid Raw Edge. Not the drawings of someone who’d died in childhood. ‘Are you going to tell me more?’
‘I am. I wanted to do it here, where she belonged, where she was happiest. The story begins here.’ She swung open the door to her left and a cloud of stagnant air wafted out.
Fourteen
Yellow Rock, 1881
Evie threw herself into the task of planning her trip. The more she thought about it the more convinced she became Andrew Hume had spent those two missing days with his parents and had left the canister of papers in their safekeeping.
She had to speak with Andrew’s father and she had little time to waste if she was going to catch up with Bailey in Maitland. She could hardly approach Mr Hume unintroduced and ask for information about his dead son.
Bailey had said he’d be there for a couple of days. She would have to leave first thing in the morning, no later or she’d miss him. She’d tell Olivia she was going out for a day’s sketching and would call in to Glendon and spend a night, maybe two there. She knew the track to Maitland well, had visited several of the people who lived along the way with Pa, a good ride but nothing she and Elsey couldn’t manage. Although she knew she’d be welcome at any of the properties she didn’t dare ask for hospitality.
She neatly tore the reward notice from The Bulletin and inserted it into her notebook. If her theory proved correct and Hume had left the papers with his parents she would have to telegraph The Bulletin and claim the reward from Maitland.
She pulled down Pa’s surveyor’s box. She couldn’t take it with her even though he’d left it in her care—she’d need a packhorse like the one Andrew Hume had in the photograph! While she could manage perfectly well without the chain and the sextant it seemed sensible to take the compass. She lifted it from the box and wrapped it in her painting cloth and tucked it into her saddlebag then replaced the box on the bookshelves.
Among the leaves of Pa’s first journal she’d found a list Leichhardt had sent him detailing the equipment to take on their travels. She ran her finger down the words: a woollen blanket, an excellent idea, she’d be away overnight, but four shirts, four pairs of socks, and a hunting coat were totally unnecessary. A pair of strong boots she had, but trousers she didn’t.
She stopped and stared at the shadows playing on Yellow Rock. Wearing trousers, a thick shirt and her hat pulled low there would be little chance of anyone thinking her other than a boy out delivering a message. She cast a quick look over the rest of the list: a tin pot to make tea in, and a smaller one to drink from, some tea and sugar. Not necessary. She wasn’t going into the wilderness. There were inns along the way. A rope to tether my horse: an excellent idea, she’d get one from the stables; she didn’t want Elsey wandering off during the night. A botanising tin: she picked up the green vasculum Pa had given her for her sixteenth birthday and hung it on her shoulder. Would it be useful? Probably not. She dropped it onto the desk and returned to Leichhardt’s list. Some paper or a journal: thanks to Pa she had that in her saddlebag. She must record everything just as Pa and Leichhardt had done.
Shuffling the papers on the desk, she collected up every article she’d read about Hume, except for the report from the Geographical Society of Hume’s demise. Surely Mr Hume would appreciate knowing as much as possible about his son’s final days. She slipped it into her bag. What to do with the others? If she left them lying on the desk there was a chance Olivia might come across them and her secret would be out, and that would place the reward in jeopardy.
Rolling the papers into a tight cylindrical shape she fastened them with the piece of leather Pa had used to wrap her saddlebag. As much as she hated the thought of lying to Olivia she couldn’t divulge her plans. Apart from the fact Olivia would insist on accompanying her—worse still, refuse to let her go—she couldn’t risk the reward. If she found the canister of papers they had to be kept secret until she telegraphed The Bulletin.
Almost as an afterthought she slipped the articles about Hume into her vasculum, and jammed it onto the bookshelf between two piles of books, then she locked the glass door.
And her map, what should she do with her map? She couldn’t take it with her and risk it getting damaged. Dropping onto her hands and knees she crawled under the desk.
As a child she’d often sat with Oxley while Pa told her stories and she’d discovered a central cavity, a hidden drawer, with no handle or lock, which released if hit with a quick sharp push. She placed her map inside and inserted an old paintbrush into the runner, effectively jamming it shut, safe from prying eyes.
With one last glance around the room she threw her saddlebag over her shoulder. She simply hadn’t time to waste. She had to be ready to leave at dawn. Only a pair of trousers had to be solved. Pa’s would surely drown her and she didn’t own any.
Evie eventually remedied the situation by taking a walk down to the farmhouse. She had to wait until Joe left for his daily trip to Broke before she could approach his wife.
‘Nell?’
Joe’s wife lifted her head from the pile of mending on her lap. ‘What can I do for you, lovey?’
Evie batted down the flush creeping up her neck. Lying never came easy. Miriam said it was because she had no sensibilities for others’ feelings and sometimes an untruth was kinder. She disagreed. She’d rather know the truth from the outset. ‘I’ve been helping Olivia out in the paddocks and these dresses—’ she held out the skirt of her white muslin dress ‘—get spoilt traipsing around. Pa’s given me a mapping task and I’m going to be out riding. I wondered if you had an old pair of Dicken’s trousers I could have.’
‘I’m not sure you’d want to be seen in any of Dicken’s cast-offs.’ Nell dangled a perfect pair of neatly patched moleskins in front of her. ‘He’s grown out of these, I was going to give them to my sister-in-law for her boys. Seven kids is more than anyone could feed, never mind clothe.’
She couldn’t take the clothes from the children’s backs. She had a cupboard full of dresses she’d outgrown, perhaps she could arrange a barter. ‘There are two girls, aren’t there?’
‘Yes, that’s right. But it’s easier to patch a dress or cut one to size.’
‘I’ve got a pile of these white muslin dresses in my cupboard that are too small for me. Do you think we could do a swap?’
‘I don’t think your Pa would be happy with that, those scruffy urchins getting around in your fine dresses.’
Well, Pa wasn’t there to know, was he? And it didn’t look as though he’d be back for quite a while. ‘No one needs to know where they came from and I’m responsible for my own clothes now.’
Nell shot her a sideways glance. ‘Not up to anything I don’
t want to know about, are you?’
Evie swallowed and forced a laugh. ‘No, nothing but mapping.’
‘The twins’ birthday’s coming up and they’d love a pretty dress. Tell you what. You go and fetch me a couple of your old dresses and I’ll see what I can sort out for you.’
Before Nell had time to change her mind Evie fled. Olivia was busy in the paddocks and from the smell wafting out of the kitchen Peg was making the most of the huge crop of plums the orchard had provided. She slipped in through the front door, raced upstairs and was back at the farmhouse with a delighted Oxley bounding alongside in a matter of minutes, two white muslin dresses wrapped in a pillowslip.
Nell was nowhere to be seen. Evie dumped the dresses on the table and waited, watching Olivia putting one of the mares earmarked for sale through her paces. Unless she could claim this reward there’d soon be no horses left. The colt skittered behind the mare all legs and big eyes. He’d be weaned before long and sold too.
A wave of guilt washed over her and she sank down in the chair. Once again Mama had fled from her thoughts. When she returned from Maitland she’d make amends, restore Mama’s garden and tend the roses.
‘You didn’t take long.’ Nell interrupted her musings, dumped two pairs of trousers and two faded blue shirts down on the table and shook them out. ‘Reckon these’ll fit right, you’re just a slip of a girl. And there’s a belt and a pair of socks. You won’t be wanting to wear those black stockings under the trousers, mark my words. Got good strong boots, have you?’
‘Yes, I have, thank you.’ She unwrapped the pillowslip and held up the dresses. ‘Do you think these will suit?’
Nell ran her hand over the soft material and let out a sigh. ‘They’ll do a treat. I’ve got some ribbons for their hair. They’ll be the bonniest girls in Broke.’
‘Thank you, Nell. I really appreciate this.’ She hugged the parcel to her chest itching to get back to the house.
‘Off you go then. And if I were you I’d wear the trousers under a skirt then you won’t cause too much of a fuss if you’re seen out and about. Mind you, you’re the only person I know who goes up that big rock.’ She gave a shudder. ‘Doesn’t it give you the collywobbles knowing all those stories?’
‘Just stories, Nell. Just stories. I’d never come to any harm up there and the view is worth the climb. It’s not only mapping; I’m going to paint Pa a picture of the eagles, there’s a pair. I think their eyrie is up there.’ She would one day, she would. She had to make recompense, she’d told enough lies to last a lifetime.
‘You be careful mind. And I’ll make sure the twins say thank you.’
‘Oh Nell, I’d rather you didn’t tell them where the dresses came from. Make them a present from you.’ The last thing she wanted was Olivia to know that she’d planned all of this in advance. ‘That way I won’t need to admit to wearing trousers—under my skirt,’ she added, fingers crossed behind her back.
By the time Olivia came in from the paddocks Evie had stashed her packed saddlebag in the stable. Unfortunately Oxley insisted on standing guard as though his life depended on it.
If she left at first light, took a break by the river to allow Elsey a rest and a drink she would be in Maitland before dusk. Bailey wouldn’t be too difficult to find, everyone in the district knew him, and if Mr Hume owned a shop then he’d be well known. She only needed a moment of Bailey’s time and an introduction to Mr Hume. Surely he’d remember when his son last visited and if he’d left anything in his safekeeping. She’d be home the following afternoon.
The only problem was Olivia and her insistence that she should be accompanied. Taking a fortifying breath, she headed for the training paddock. ‘Can you manage without me for a day or so?’
Olivia’s head came up with a snap, her eyebrows forming a deep vee.
‘Pa asked me if I could complete Leichhardt’s map of Glendon. I thought I’d go up to Yellow Rock to get a bird’s-eye view and then make my way to Glendon and spend a day or two there. The new owners offered their hospitality and I also want to ask if the Scotts left any papers about Leichhardt. They’ve always said we are welcome but we’ve never visited. We shouldn’t neglect our neighbours and they were very kind after Mama and Joshua …’ Her voice petered out. She was such an awful liar. She hated it, and even with the fingers on both hands crossed behind her back the sheen of disgrace dampened her palms.
‘Give it a few days and I’ll come with you. I can’t go with Joe and Bailey away.’
‘I need to go tomorrow. There’s absolutely nothing more I can do for Pa until I sort this out. I promised …’ That childish whine slipped back into her voice. ‘Please … I know the road like the back of my hand. I’ll take Oxley. He won’t let anything happen to me.’
‘We’ll see. Let me sleep on it. I’m going to take a bath, get an early night. I’ve been out in the sun all day.’
Evie tossed and turned all night and when the first streaks of light broke the darkness she shot out of bed and slipped on her usual dress. If she went part way up Yellow Rock, changed her clothes at the cave and tucked her dress behind the rock ferns, on her return she’d swap back into her dress and no one would be any the wiser. She couldn’t wait for Olivia to give her approval. She had to leave otherwise she might miss Bailey and without him she’d have no way of getting an introduction to Mr Hume.
She slipped through the rising mist to the stables, Oxley at her heels, and saddled Elsey, secured her saddlebag and with barely a backward glance took the path to Yellow Rock.
Fifteen
Yellow Rock, 1911
The moment Olivia swung open the study door Oxley shot to his feet. ‘You wait in the hall, you mutt. You know very well you’re not allowed inside.’
A pang of sympathy streaked through Lettie as the dog hung his head and sloped back to the spot by the front door. ‘It’s such a shame …’
‘He knows his place, same as all his forefathers. William’s father brought the first here. Kept him company while he healed.’
She had no memory of William having a dog. She surely would remember. ‘Grandfather?’
‘This is William’s study.’ The silk of Olivia’s sleeve rustled as she extended her arm inviting her into the darkened room.
Lettie first sensed an overwhelming dusty smell, then the rich scent of leather and a base note of sandalwood and ink. Unlike the rest of the house a thick layer of the past blanketed the entire room, not just the grime but the very atmosphere, and both seemed to take their toll on Olivia. She sank into a chair, frail and broken as a bird, a lace handkerchief held to her nose as she smothered a sneeze. Decades must have passed since the room had been disturbed.
Heavy floor-length curtains cast a sepia tinge making everything appear faded and indistinct. A man’s study, not a place a young woman would spend her time. How could Evie’s story lie here?
Lettie drew back one of the heavy curtains. Motes danced in the air, drifting lazily in the broad strips of dazzling sunlight she’d invited into the room.
Framed pictures crammed the walls, grimy and indistinct under their thick layer of dust. Antiquarian maps dating back centuries, fanciful beasts and monsters, dragons lurking in the unknown waters below the equator, minute illustrations peppering the borders.
The Eastern Portion of Australia, dated 1844, divided into numbered counties all outlined in colour, the border illustrated with emus, kangaroos and men with canoes and spears. Another showed the head and shoulders of a bearded man, the title: An overland expedition to Port Essington.
‘Did these all belong to Grandfather?’
‘It was his passion, and his father’s. John Ludgrove fancied himself a collector of maps, spent a fortune tracking down anything to do with the early days and William was set to follow in his footsteps until he became obsessed with Leichhardt. I want you to have a better understanding of Evie, and this is the place to start. William taught Evie all he knew about maps.’
A strange occupation for
a young girl, even one as talented as Evie. ‘How old was she when she died?’
‘I don’t know.’
Lettie’s knees folded and she dropped down beside Olivia. She racked her brain trying to remember something, anything Miriam might have said. Nothing. Nothing but Miriam’s stock phrase she died of a childhood ailment. Childhood implied a young, very young girl, but this room, the sketchbook, the paintings in the hallway belied Miriam’s terse description of her sister’s passing.
‘She loved to draw and paint.’ The wistful tone in Olivia’s voice hovered in the scented air and her face paled to a chalky white. ‘She left early, said she was going to Yellow Rock to paint, then on to Glendon. She never returned.’
Lettie’s skin tightened as she remembered Nathaniel’s story. She shook the sensation away. ‘She had an accident?’
‘We found her frock stuffed behind a rock. Up there.’ She gestured to the rock. ‘She vanished.’
Ridiculous hocus pocus. People didn’t just vanish. ‘Mother said—’
‘Miriam says a lot of things.’ Olivia tucked her handkerchief into her sleeve and sat up a little straighter. ‘Few of them bear much resemblance to the truth. She has her own way of viewing the world, her own perceptions.’
The asperity of Olivia’s remark struck a chord … Miriam’s version of the truth was always slanted to put herself in the best light, either the victim or the victor, never taking responsibility for any misadventure. Lettie shook her head. She had no idea whose version to believe.
‘I blame myself. If I hadn’t waited those three days, if she hadn’t gone alone …’
‘How old was Evie when she left?’ Lettie rephrased her question searching for clarity.