by Téa Cooper
‘So who has this specimen? I’m not following you.’
Bert let out a long-suffering sigh as though she was somehow lacking. ‘Bishop had it. He gave it to Skeffington in part payment for his land. That’s why the Capt’n’s in Australia. Wants to get it back so he can make good his promise to the Baron.’
She could imagine a promise being important to a man like Stefan, he was possibly the most honest and trustworthy person she’d ever come across. And his outrage at the treatment the Darkinjung had suffered and his determination to see Gus and Dobbin brought to justice only made her respect him more. To think when she’d first seen him standing in the doorway of her workroom she’d feared for her life and Jarro’s. How wrong could a person be?
‘’Ere he is. That didn’t take long.’
And from the look of it, things hadn’t gone the way Stefan hoped. With his head down, and his hands thrust deep into his pockets, he meandered back to the carriage scuffing his boots in the dirt. Bert shrugged his shoulders and scampered back onto the box.
‘Is everything all right?’ She moved over to make room for him on the seat.
‘No, not really. I wasn’t able to speak with Mr Skeffington. He is indisposed. His wife spared me a moment.’
‘What now, Capt’n?’
‘I’m sorry, Bert?’
‘Where d’you want to go?’
‘I’ll leave that to you. We’ll take a bit of a ride then back to town in time for lunch.’
The carriage pulled away and Stefan sat in silence staring out at the passing landscape, a frown creasing his brow. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, Della threw prudence, and good manners, over the cliff. ‘Is there no other way you can fulfil your promise to the Baron?’
His head came up with a snap and his blue eyes pinned her. ‘I beg your pardon.’
‘Bert told me.’
‘Ah Bert, of course. You’re going to have to learn to keep your mouth shut, young man.’
Bert turned with a rueful smile. ‘It’s Miss Della. Didn’t fink you’d mind.’
‘You’re right, and a problem shared …’ He took her hand in his. ‘I could do with a friendly ear. May I bore you with my problems?’
‘Of course you can.’ She could think of nothing she’d rather do and with her hand clasped in his warm palm she would happily sit and listen to his problems until the sun set in the east.
‘A man named Johann Menge was exploring on behalf of the South Australian Mining Company, a great friend of the Baron. Professor Menge found what he believed to be a valuable gemstone, an opal. He had no way of confirming his beliefs so he wrote to the Baron who arranged for him to send it to a man he’d met in Sydney to await collection. It is the main reason for my trip here.’
An opal? What was an opal? She’d heard of diamonds and rubies, but an opal? ‘I’m sorry but I’m afraid I have no idea what an opal is.’
‘They have been mined throughout Europe for centuries, prized by the Romans and are still valued today. Professor Menge discovered what he believed to be the first in Australia and wanted to have it assessed. The Hungarian mines are exhausted and supply is short. Both Queen Victoria and Prince Albert are very taken with the stones and they are much in demand.’
‘And this opal is lost?’
‘Not lost exactly.’
Goodness gracious, this was a world she could never imagine.
‘The Baron asked me to reclaim it for him.’
He had travelled thousands of miles at the bequest of this Baron in search of a gemstone. He sounded like a chivalrous knight in an ancient fairy story, setting out on a magic quest. ‘Why is this particular opal so important? What happened to Professor Menge? Did he find any more opals?’
‘The professor died in the Victorian goldfields, a place near Bendigo. He knew he was unwell and one of his last acts was to send the stone to Bishop for safe keeping until it could be retrieved and examined. The Baron counted the professor as his friend and wanted to fulfil Menge’s last request, to prove his friend correct. A fitting tribute to a great man. Without the opal he can’t do that.’
‘Does an opal look like a diamond?’
‘The opals I have seen come in many shapes, sizes and colours. Some like fire—when you hold them up to the light their colours flash like flames; others are milky white and pale. Queen Victoria has started a fashion for them and the demand has grown.’
The skin on her arms prickled. ‘I’m sure other people would have found them. What about the Darkinjung? Surely they’d know about them.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘They have lived here for thousands of years. They know things about this country we can’t comprehend. I believe Cordelia has something that reminds me of your description in the Curio Shop with the other artefacts.’
Silence descended like a wet rag until Stefan snapped to attention and grasped Bert’s shoulder. ‘Back to Hunter Street, fast as you can.’
Della grasped at the hood on her cloak, holding it tight as they bolted back along the wide road.
‘Where are you going man?’ Stefan yelled at Bert.
‘There’s a better route, we can go that way. Quicker. We’ll miss the quay and the fort and all the ruckus.’
As usual, Bert was right and before long they pulled up outside the shop. A crowd of women clustered around the window. Stefan handed her down onto the footpath and Della reached into the hidey-hole and took out the key. ‘Cordelia can’t be back yet.’
‘Is that a concern?’
‘No. Not really.’ She wasn’t sure why she was pleased Cordelia hadn’t returned, maybe because she found his company so enticing, with his tales of faraway places and mysterious treasures, she didn’t want it to end. She slipped the key into the lock and opened the door.
As if on cue Cordelia, swathed from head to foot in green silk, erupted from the back of the shop and slammed the door behind her.
‘Where have you been might I ask?’ Cordelia’s voice, icy and calm—a sure sign that she was seething inside—sent a spike of dread down Della’s spine. She met her cold-eyed stare.
‘I’ve been taking the air with Captain von Richter.’
‘Have you indeed.’
‘Mrs Atterton,’ Stefan exhaled slowly as if he was trying to calm himself. ‘I invited Della to accompany me. I felt it would be beneficial to her health and I’m sure you can see that she is greatly improved.’
Cordelia glared at her, then shrugged her shoulders. ‘Change the sign on the door, Della. We have customers waiting.’ It was as though her anger had evaporated with Stefan’s presence.
A swarm of women entered the shop cackling like Charity’s chickens and started wandering around touching and trying things on. No one seemed to require any help so Della drifted to the back of the shop and opened Pa’s glass cabinet. The stone lay tucked back in the corner where she had left it.
‘Get that guttersnipe out of my shop.’
Della swung around in time to see Cordelia twisting Bert’s wrist until his palm was facing upwards over the desk. ‘I thought as much.’ She gave his hand a violent shake and half a dozen bright green lozenges fell to the desk top with a clatter. ‘Not for the likes of you.’
‘What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?’ Stefan’s red face glared at the poor boy.
‘Sorry, Capt’n. I just wanted one. Never had one of them before. They were just sitting there-like. I thought they were to eat.’
‘Wait for me outside.’ Stefan gave him a hearty shove and, throwing Della a rueful grimace, Bert skedaddled through the crowd of gaping women.
‘I apologise. I don’t know what came over him. Not once in our entire trip has he done anything to indicate he was light-fingered.’ He took Della’s arm and edged her away from the women crowding around Cordelia. ‘I’d very much like to have a closer look at the stone.’
‘It might be better not to disturb Cordelia at the moment.’
‘If you have the oppor
tunity perhaps you could bring it to the hotel?’
‘Are you suggesting, Captain, you would like me to be light-fingered?’ She couldn’t resist throwing him a wink.
‘As owner of the Curio Shop I wouldn’t have thought that would be an issue.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘I must impress the importance of this. The Baron believes that Menge’s opal is the first sample to be found in Australia. If there are others it puts a completely different view on matters. Particularly if it came from the Hawkesbury along with the other artefacts. I would ask you not to discuss the matter with anyone.’
‘I’m sure if there were opals in the area the Darkinjung people would know. I’ve never seen anything like it. And I have never heard any of them mention gemstones. They’ve told me so many of their stories.’
‘In that case I am doubly inclined to study it more closely.’
‘What exactly did Mrs Skeffington say about the opal?’
‘She said she had no idea what I was talking about and no time nor inclination to discuss it.’
‘Della!’ Cordelia’s cold voice made her jump.
‘Perhaps I could bring it to the Berkley tomorrow. I must go. I’m in enough trouble for leaving the shop unattended.’
‘Then I owe you my apologies. I should not have detained you.’ He brought her hand so close to his lips his breath warmed her skin, then he clicked his heels in that very special manner he had, turning her thoughts back to gallant princes and fairytale castles.
Stefan closed the door on the clamouring women and stepped out into the street in two minds whether to leave Della or not. Cordelia seemed to exert some sort of strange control over her, something more than the respect due to her because she was her aunt, particularly as Della owned the shop—a fact Cordelia didn’t dispute.
He found Bert kicking up the dust looking as though he was heading for the gallows.
‘Come on Bert. Let’s get this carriage back to the stables and you can explain to me what possessed you to steal. I didn’t expect it of you.’
Bert hung his head. ‘Sorry, Capt’n.’ He picked up the reins and one of the lozenges fell from his pocket. Stefan scooped it up into his hand and turned it over. The silvered green paper glinted in the sun.
‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you. They taste worse than dog shit.’
‘Serves you right. I hope it teaches you a lesson?’
‘Nah! I spat it out.’ Bert shuddered. ‘Bloody awful. Real sickly sweet then when you suck on it, it’s like you’ve taken a bite out of the butt of a gun.’
‘Make a habit of sucking on guns, do you?’
Stefan handed the offending item back and Bert stuffed it into his pocket. ‘Drop me off here and take the carriage back. I’ll let you know when I need you again.’
‘You ain’t giving me the push, are you?’
‘Keep stealing and I will.’
Twenty-Six
Sydney, NSW, 1853
Della had done her best to keep out of Cordelia’s way, she’d been dancing around all morning like a scalded cat pulling open drawers, flicking through ledgers, casting them aside then taking others upstairs. She’d told her that if anyone asked specifically for her, she was to tell them to come back tomorrow as she had important business to attend to, and with that she’d left.
Since then Della had sold four evening bags, three muffs and two carriage blankets and entered the transactions neatly in the ledgers as always. One man had come in wanting to purchase a native toy for his son. The kind that came back when thrown away. She hadn’t been able to resist telling him a boomerang wasn’t a toy and it could fell a fully grown kangaroo, as heavy as a man. Hardly a suitable gift for a child. He’d hummed and hawed and then finally stomped out muttering. And now, thankfully, the shop was quiet.
Lifting the lid of Pa’s display cabinet, she stretched to the back and pulled out the stone. When she turned it over it flared in the shaft of sunlight from the window, myriad colours twinkling. She licked her finger and wiped across the smooth surface and
her breath caught. It was beautiful. If Cordelia hadn’t returned by nightfall she’d take it to Stefan.
Her heart almost stopped when the doorbell tinkled. She shoved the stone into her pocket and braced herself, expecting Cordelia. ‘Charity! What are you doing here?’
‘Sick to death ’anging around like last week’s laundry so I traded me last few days at the Settlers for a ride on the coach.’
And a new dress unless she was very much mistaken; she’d never seen Charity look so pretty. ‘You used Stefan’s money?’
‘And what’s wrong with that? Stefan, huh? That’d be the fine Captain, would it?’ Charity threw her the biggest wink which sent her cheeks the most despicable red. ‘He said the room was mine for as long as I wanted it. Didn’t say nought about giving him any money. Besides that blackfella was ’anging around, scared the living shit out of me he did, creeping around like a ghost.’
‘Blackfella? Do you mean Jarro?’
Charity picked up one of the feathered combs, wrinkled her nose and tossed it aside. ‘The one you used to hang about with down at the creek.’
‘Was he all right?’
‘Well, how would I know? Didn’t pass the time of day with him, did I? Took off at a fair old gallop once I’d told him you’d gone to Sydney. And how’s my girl?’
Della huffed out a sigh of relief. Jarro didn’t sound as though he was suffering any ill-effects from the musket ball. ‘I’m better, thank you, Charity.’
‘Better? Was you not right?’
‘I was just a little tired after the trip. Headaches and a bit queasy, and strange pins and needles in my hands. I’m much improved.’
‘Where’s Cordelia then?’ She narrowed her eyes and squinted into the back of the shop.
‘She went out early, said she had some business to do.’
A frown flittered across Charity’s forehead and she tossed back her long black braid. ‘What kind of business?’
‘I don’t know. She asked me to look after the shop.’
Charity smoothed down her ruffled skirt and made a slow lap around the room. ‘And she’s been making a few changes in our absence I see.’
‘I know. I was quite angry at first. All I could think of was all Pa’s hard work going to waste but the shop’s very prosperous. Mostly ladies, though there was a man who came in wanting to purchase a boomerang. I still haven’t got to the bottom of the raids ...’ She let her words fade.
Charity was so busy walking slowly around lifting bundles of fur mittens, delving into the evening headwear, poking her nose into cupboards and scanning shelves that she thankfully took no notice.
Della left her alone, not wanting to get into an argument with her, not when she’d just returned, and anyway she and Cordelia weren’t going to be of any help as far as the Darkinjung were concerned. Until they had spoken to the Governor she would have to hope Gus and Dobbin stayed away. She stuck her hand into her pocket and hefted the stone. It sat warm in her palm, felt almost as if it were breathing, as though it had a life of its own.
‘So is me bed still me bed or has she changed that too?’
Della pushed the stone deep into her pocket. ‘No. Cordelia’s using Ma and Pa’s room now so we won’t have to share.’ Perhaps she could get Charity to keep an eye on the shop while she popped around to the Berkeley to see Stefan.
‘What are these? They’re new.’ Charity dug her hand into the carved wooden bowl and let the lozenges trickle through her fingers. She turned one over and started to unwrap the paper. ‘Look like toffees to me.’
‘They are, I think. Cordelia likes to call them bonbons. She’s pandering to all the highfalutin’ ladies.’
‘Sounds French to me.’ Charity unwrapped one and brought it to her nose. ‘Doesn’t tickle my fancy.’ She twisted the paper and threw it back in the bowl. ‘Right, well I’m going to get meself sorted and then I might take a bit of a walk before it
gets dark. Reacquaint myself with the town. It’s been too long. I’ve missed the old place.’
Charity would be doing her reacquainting down at one of the pubs in the Rocks more than like. Catching up with old friends, showing off her new dress and making sure she had a supply of rum. She wore her ex-convict status like a badge of honour, unlike Cordelia, who went to great lengths to forget she was the reason Pa had upped sticks and moved halfway around the world. Just to keep his little sister safe.
After an evening at the gaming table and the most appalling night’s sleep he’d had since he set foot in Australia, Stefan spent the morning working on the Baron’s journals trying to prevent himself from racing back to the Curio Shop. Della would bring the stone to him as soon as she was able and he didn’t want to alert Cordelia to the possibility that she had something of value tucked in her display cabinet.
He’d ended up flicking through the pages of the journal searching for references to the New Hollanders. There were very few—a comparison between those who lived miserable lives in the towns addicted to alcohol and tobacco and those who lived more traditional lives, their skills as trackers and their apparent health and fitness. Nothing that suggested any trading relationship with businesses in Sydney.
With a sigh he pulled on his jacket, intent on clearing his head with a quick walk around the Botanical Gardens.
Bert spotted him as he rounded the drinking fountain and slid alongside him. ‘Might be a good time to go and have a chat with Miss Della about that there opal.’
‘And why would that be?’ Until now he’d managed to resist the inexplicable lure of Della and the stone and now Bert was sending all his good intentions awry.
‘Because the green witch ain’t there?’
He tried his very best to curtail his grin, and failed. ‘I take it you are referring to Mrs Atterton.’