Eumeralla - Secrets, Tragedy and Love

by Joanna Stephen-Ward

  “You’re a fine one to talk about cheating, Margot,” said Virginia. “You cheated my brothers out of their inheritance. Kingower was saved by the money that should have been theirs. Clarkson money saved this property – Fiona’s got more right here than any Lancaster!”

  ‘Yes, I have got more right here than the Lancasters,’ thought Fiona as she opened the black iron gates to Kingower. As she drove up the winding drive that was lined with azaleas and rhododendrons, her anger increased. Through the gap in the bushes on her left she saw Margot’s house. The conversion of the two cottages into one had been designed by Alex. ‘Done with the money she got from stealing Acacia,’ she thought.

  The homestead came into view. In Victorian times when the first Lancaster had built the house, the plain one-storey design, surrounded by a wide verandah, had been scorned as being boring. His descendants had not made the mistake of changing anything. The rooms were large and all had doors opening onto the verandah. Now its plainness was called elegance.

  Fiona pulled up in front of the homestead. ‘They’ve got all this, plus gardeners, grooms and cleaners, and Keith’s got nothing.’

  Catriona came onto the verandah and rested her hands on the cast-iron lace-work. Her diamond engagement ring flashed in the sunlight.

  “Fiona, you’re here. Lunch is nearly ready.”

  “Hello, Tree. Congratulations.”

  Catriona didn’t smile. “Thank you.”

  Fiona doused the faint hope of reconciliation. ‘Well, you asked for it,’ she thought. ‘If you just smiled at me I wouldn’t have done it. We could have had a normal lunch, but now – ’

  “Good morning, Fiona.”

  She jumped and turned round. “Aunty Margot. Hello.”

  “You’re very jumpy,” said Margot.

  Fiona smiled and walked towards the verandah. ‘Not as jumpy as you’re going to be soon,’ she thought.

  “Stefan, this is Fiona – our cousin,” said Catriona when they went into the lounge. With a stab of envy she saw his expression of disbelief. She regretted that she and Kim had reviled Fiona, who was dressed in black velvet trousers and a polo-necked jumper in black angora with a red silk scarf. Her only jewellery was a pair of pearl earrings.

  “Sherry, Fiona?” asked David.

  “No thanks, Uncle David, I’m driving. I’ll have lemonade at lunch.”

  He looked relieved. “You’re not staying the night?”

  Fiona smiled. “No.”

  Her enigmatic expression infuriated Catriona.

  “Tree and I are having cheese, broccoli and tomato pie. Do you want that or roast lamb?” asked Kim.

  “I’ll have the pie, please.”

  Catriona looked at her uneasily as they all went into the dining room. ‘Red and black – the colours for danger,’ she thought.

  Kim nudged her. “She’s up to something.”

  “Fiona, you’re sitting next to Mum. Let me take your handbag,” said Catriona.

  “Oh, no. I’ll need it during lunch.”

  “What for?” asked Kim.

  Fiona gave a secret smile and took her place at the table. She was silent while they ate their pumpkin soup, but her presence was uncomfortable. Knowing Fiona was an excellent cook, they had gone to a great deal of trouble choosing the menu for lunch. The chocolate and hazelnut filling for the pancakes was ready and the batter was in the refrigerator.

  Catriona was annoyed by Fiona’s failure to praise the pie. ‘Why should I care?’ she thought. ‘The only thing she can do is cook.’

  At the end of the main course Fiona looked at Stefan who was seated diagonally opposite her. “Do you have any idea what sort of a family you’re marrying into?”

  He grinned. “A very clever one.”

  “Do you believe in family traits?”

  “I suppose so – as a general rule.”

  “So, if a man was a coward his daughter would be too?”

  Stefan looked taken aback. “I don’t know about that.”

  “But do you think that cowardice is as much a family trait as intelligence or the ability to ride?”

  “He’s a teacher not a psychologist,” said Kim.

  Fiona kept her eyes on Stefan. “Did Tree tell you I’m adopted?” She went on without waiting for him to reply. “My mother is really my aunt. The family relationships are convoluted. Aunty Margot was my grandfather’s second wife so she’s her stepmother as well as her sister-in-law. If Margot hears Mum referring to her as her stepmother she’ll announce that she’s Alex’s sister. Mum’s just as bad – they do it to rile each other.”

  He laughed. “Crikey – that’s complicated.”

  “It gets worse. Three Lancasters married three Clarksons. My uncle Laurence married Margot’s sister.”

  Catriona tried to think how to make Fiona stop talking, but Stefan looked fascinated.

  “My real father’s name was Jonathan – Margot was his stepmother too. I’m not illegitimate – my real parents were married.” She picked up her handbag from the floor and opened it.

  Catriona and Kim exchanged alarmed glances.

  “What happened to your parents?” Stefan asked innocently.

  Fiona took something out of her bag. When she unfolded it, Catriona saw it was a newspaper cutting. “My father died in a fire.”

  “How ghastly. I’m sorry,” he said.

  Catriona opened her mouth intending to ask her mother if they should start cooking the pancakes but, before she could speak, Fiona waved the newspaper cutting. “This is the account of the fire. Would you read it aloud, please, Stefan?”

  He took the cutting as though hypnotized. Knowing it would look rude to try and stop him from reading it, Catriona listened in confusion. When he finished no one spoke. She heard the crackle of paper as he folded it up.

  Fiona glared at Margot and then looked at Stefan. “Is rushing into a burning house to save someone’s life a cowardly thing to do?”

  He looked bewildered. “No, of course not. It was terribly brave.”

  “Aunty Margot told Kim and Catriona he was a coward.”

  Margot stared at her plate.

  Kim broke the silence. “Are you all right, Aunty Margot?”

  Fiona’s laughter sounded harsh. “Of course she’s not. She’s been caught out. For years she blackened her stepson’s name. If he was alive he could sue her for slander.”

  “That’s enough,” said David.

  Fiona threw down her serviette. “Is that all you can say, Uncle David? No apology? Not even from you, Aunty Margot? And what about you, Aunty David?”

  “Go back to Melbourne, Fiona,” said David.

  Fiona shoved back her chair. “Before I leave, I want to catch Margot out in another lie. Jonathan didn’t fight in the war because he wasn’t allowed to — he was needed on the land. You’re not only a cheat, Aunty Margot, you’re a liar too.” She turned and walked out of the dining room and down the hall.

  They heard the front door bang.

  Catriona couldn’t bear the mixture of embarrassment and admiration on Stefan’s face. “Fiona’s real mother was an alcoholic,” she blurted out. “She was incapable of caring for a baby, so when Jonathan died Aunty Virginia and Uncle Alex adopted her.”

  “Who told you that?” asked Margot.

  “Fiona did.”

  Margot looked at her thoughtfully “When?”

  “Ages ago ... when we were children,” said Kim.

  Margot laughed.

  Except for Catriona, who looked dispirited, everyone else attempted to behave as if they had just had a normal family lunch. They made no reference to Fiona as they cleared the table and did the washing up. Stefan suspected that, when he left, she would be their only topic of conversation. Her antagonistic relationship with the Kingower Lancasters puzzled him. He wondered why Catriona and Kim, who were gentle with new or fraught riders and had many good friends, were vitriolic about Fiona.

  Stefan liked and respected Margot, but Fiona’s allegation
s mystified him as did the fact that no one had challenged them. He knew it had not only been his presence that had prevented them. ‘They behaved as if they were used to the accusation. Yes. That’s it, it’s been said before. Why? Because it’s true? Why did she lie about Fiona’s real father?’

  If Margot had cheated her stepsons out of their inheritance, then he had misjudged her and so had many others. He had once told her that she was the youngest old person he had ever met. Although she had taught juniors and he taught senior classes, their mutual occupation gave them a common interest. Her house was full of books, she was a good pianist, and their discussions were stimulating. Although she had given up teaching forty years ago, her old pupils often visited, bringing spouses and children and occasionally even grandchildren.

  Margot was the matriarch of the Lancasters. In spite of her age she played an active role in the day-to-day workings of Kingower. She supervised the grooms, making sure they kept the stables and horse troughs clean, maintained the saddlery, and ensured the droppings in the paddock were removed every day. She handled all Kingower’s finances and did the tax returns. He knew she was a widow. He had seen her wedding photos and had been struck by how like the young Margot, Catriona was. What he had not known was that Virginia, whom he had heard about, but never met, was Margot’s stepdaughter as well as her sister-in-law.

  The family stuck together for the rest of the afternoon. Catriona seemed reluctant to be alone with Stefan, but he managed to guide her away from Kim on the walk back to her cottage in the evening. As they strolled along the muddy track he breathed deeply, sucking the pure air into his lungs.

  As if deciding she could face any questions he might ask, she said, “I’m sorry about the scene at lunch. I’ll try and explain.”

  He put his arm around her waist. “You don’t have to tell me now, if you don’t want to.”

  She looked at the ground. “It started before we were born. When Dad got back to Kingower in 1945 it was in a mess. Before the war he had a manager and lots of staff to care for the horses, gardens and homestead. But most of them joined the forces. It wasn’t a farm so no men were kept back to look after it. Mum did her best, but it was impossible. Kingower was severely short of money when the war ended so Dad was contemplating selling the cottages and some of the land. But then Aunty Margot’s husband died and left her everything. He cut his three children out of the will.”

  “That would cause a lot of bitterness,” he said as they reached her cottage.

  She wiped the mud off her shoes on the mat. “They thought she’d cheated them out of their inheritance.” She opened the door. “They didn’t want him to marry her – ”

  “Why not?”

  “I guess they were worried that if she had a baby they’d lose the property.”

  “Didn’t they contest the will?”

  “Their solicitor advised them against it. Anyway she sold the property in Queensland and moved back to Kingower. Starting a riding school was her idea. It was successful so she suggested they branched out into pony trekking weekends and holidays. Dad realized he didn’t have to employ a manager – he had Aunty Margot. And Kingower’s wealthy and her stepsons lost the property.”

  “Why did Fiona call your mother Aunty David?”

  Catriona grimaced. “One Christmas, years ago, Aunty Virginia was ranting about how she hated her letters being addressed to Mrs A Lancaster because her name wasn’t Alex. Mum said that she liked being called Mrs David and Virginia began to call her that just to be sarcastic, but the name stuck.”

  “It sounds as if you and Virginia have a lot in common. Do you like her?”

  “I could, but she’s very dominating. Whenever she comes here she makes her animosity towards Aunty Margot conspicuous.”

  Stefan wanted to ask why Margot had lied about Jonathan being a coward, but it was getting late and he wanted to make love before he left for Melbourne. “I never seriously thought she was a cheat,” he said, leading her towards the bedroom.

  She stopped in the doorway and looked at him intently. “Do you still want to marry me, Stefan?”

  He knew the reason for her trepidation. Fiona could not be categorized as a dumb blonde. Anticipating a heavily made-up doll dressed in a mini-skirt, he had been astonished by her appearance. Her nails had been short, unpainted but well manicured. Long straight hair, tied loosely with a black ribbon, shone like platinum. Her eyes were an amazingly luminous shade of turquoise. If she had worn make-up it had been too subtle to be evident.

  He feigned surprise at her question. “Of course I do.”

  She looked apprehensive. “I thought Fiona might have captivated you.”

  He laughed. “I’ve seldom met anyone less charming.”

  “Really?” For the first time since lunch, she smiled.

  “Really,” he said. ‘Tortured, beautiful and fascinating, but not charming,’ he thought.

  Melbourne

  March 1972

  I’ve routed the Kingower lot. They can no longer brush me aside as being of no consequence. Today I made a fool of all of them in front of Stefan. If he hadn’t been present they would have thrown me out. Tree looked radiant – till I created a scene. Her engagement ring is a solitaire emerald-cut diamond. It must be at least two carats. How I envy her. I long to find a fabulous man and get married and have children. Stefan’s taller than she is, so I bet she’s pleased about that. He’s solid, with wavy hair. With his olive skin and brown eyes he looks a bit Italian or Greek, or would if his hair was a darker brown, but it’s got a bit of red in it.

  The doorbell rang. Fiona shut her diary and went to answer it. “Hello, Aunty Ruth. I’ll put the kettle on. Tea or coffee?”

  “Tea please.” Ruth smiled wryly. “I’ve had Margot on the phone for the last hour. You caused a commotion at Kingower.”

  “Good. Why did she lie about Uncle Johnny?”

  Ruth followed her into the kitchen. “I didn’t know she had. If I’d known you thought he was a coward I would have told you otherwise.” She sighed. “Laurence, Johnny and Virginia hated Margot for marrying their father. He’d been a widower for three years, but they behaved as if she had broken up the family.”

  “She must have done something to make them hostile,” said Fiona, putting three teaspoons of Darjeeling tea into the pot. “They wouldn’t have been so unreasonable – ”

  Ruth laughed. “Laurence, Johnny and Virginia were the most headstrong, intense, passionate and unpredictable people I’ve ever met.” She opened her handbag and took out her cigarettes. “Where do you think you get your temper from? When have you ever been reasonable?”

  “When I’m driving.”

  “Yes,” Ruth admitted.

  “Uncle Laurence was rational. I never saw him in a temper,” said Fiona as she put an ashtray on the table.

  Ruth flicked on her lighter and lit her cigarette. “Cheska mellowed him and her death doused a lot of his fire. I never met his second wife. He was gentle with women and animals. Every woman except Margot.”

  “Then it must have been her,” said Fiona, taking mugs out of the cupboard. “She was probably jealous because he wouldn’t let her replace his mother.”

  Ruth shook her head and sat down. “Margot isn’t jealous – and I’m not saying that because she’s my sister. They were the only people I’ve ever known her to be at war with. But she tried. When Laurence got married again she sent him a cheque for fifty pounds. He sent it back with a note saying, ‘Keep it. You’ve got everything else.’”

  “Good for him.”

  “No. He was being petty. He didn’t have much – fifty pounds was a lot of money in 1949.”

  “And it was his money anyway.”

  When the kettle boiled Fiona made the tea.

  Ruth frowned. “Who told you that your real mother was an alcoholic?”

  “Mum did.”

  “She shouldn’t have.”

  “Why not? It’s best that I know the truth. How did Aunty Margot justify h
er lie?”

  “She didn’t ... but she’s sorry you suffered.”

  “It’s not the sort of thing you can boast about.”

  “But you told Tree and Kim about your real mother being an alcoholic.”

  Fiona chewed her lip. “That was when we were young, before they started hating me. Oh, Aunty Ruth, I’ve got something to tell you. I’m moving to Queensland in August. Ansett are transferring me to – ”

  “You can’t,” Ruth said, almost choking on the smoke from her cigarette. When she recovered she saw Fiona’s perplexed expression.

  “Mum said exactly what you said. She said ‘You can’t,’ just like you did.”

  Ruth forced herself to smile. “I’m being selfish. I’ll miss you.”

  “When I get settled you’ll have to come up for a holiday.”

  “What about all the friends you’ve made here? You’ve got a good social life.”

  Fiona poured milk into the mugs. “My friends are just friends. I like being with them, but there’s no one I’m close to. No one I can share secrets with.” Her expression became pensive. “I miss Tree and Kim ... I never needed anyone but them. Did they ever like me at all?”

  “Of course they did.”

  “But they wouldn’t let me defend myself. If they’d felt about me the way I felt about them they’d have listened, wouldn’t they?”

  “It was hard for them – seeing their boyfriends falling for you.”

  “Yes, but they’re happy without me. I’m not happy without them ... that’s the difference.”

  As Ruth walked back to her house, she tried to think of a way to stop Fiona moving to Queensland. ‘What would make her stay here?’ she thought, opening the gate. ‘A man?’ She tried to think of any young doctor at the hospital who might interest Fiona. When she arrived home she went to the phone and dialled Alex’s number. Not wanting to be made even more agitated by Virginia’s dire predictions, she hoped he would answer. When there was no reply, she paced around the room. She caught sight of herself in the mirror over the mantelpiece and glowered at her reflection.