The Opal Dragonfly

by Julian Leatherdale

  ‘Have we met before?’ asked Joseph on being introduced to Charles Probius.

  ‘Well, if we have, I must apologise for not recognising you,’ said Charles.

  Isobel noticed a strange look of disquiet creep into her brother’s features. She was mortified at Joseph’s coolness. Her fiancé was courteous and empathetic, however, before he was drawn away into another conversation.

  ‘I think I have met your fiancé before. In Melbourne. A few years ago,’ said Joseph. ‘But I cannot remember where. How much do you know about him?’

  ‘Enough,’ Isobel replied, dismissing Joseph’s insinuation. But her cheeks burned as she turned away. ‘Excuse me, Joseph. There are many people I must speak with today. I am sure you understand. We’ll talk later.’

  There were many familiar faces in the throng of mourners that eddied from room to room in the great house. Aunt Louisa and Isobel had woven simple but pretty wreaths out of wildflowers (wattle, boronia, pink spider grevilleas, fuchsias and bush-peas) and hung them about the frame of an oil painting of Major Macleod that stood next to a portrait of Winnie in the drawing room. Isobel and her aunt had thought that these native wreaths made a fitting tribute to the Major’s heartfelt attachment to the bush.

  Another unexpected figure from the past emerged from the crowd of guests and approached Isobel: Major Ralph Tranter. He appeared pale and anxious. ‘It is the greatest pity that we should meet again under such dreadful circumstances,’ said the soldier, his eyes glistening. ‘I offer my humble condolences, Miss Macleod, knowing they are but a drop in the ocean of your grief. I was a great admirer of your father’s, as you know. I also remember how much he meant to you when you were younger, if I may be so bold.’ This speech seemed to tax poor Ralph Tranter’s emotions greatly for he stammered and blushed a great deal as he uttered it and appeared to struggle against tears. Isobel was quite taken aback at the depth of his feelings. ‘Please, do not distress yourself on my account, Major Tranter. Your words are most kind, a real balm to my soul. I thank you.’

  Major Tranter looked at her, his eyes glazed with tears and suffused with such tender longing and regret that her heart fluttered with alarm. The poor, wretched man! What had come to pass to make him look on her so? He attempted a smile to acknowledge her gracious reply but it failed utterly. His lips trembled and, unable to speak, he bowed his head and retreated as quickly as he could, back into the crowd.

  Later in the proceedings, Isobel spied Anna, her face carved white as alabaster, a beacon of maddened grief, in conversation with Joseph. She wondered what bile Anna poured into his ear and Joseph into hers as they stood, an angry, conspiratorial knot in the corner of the drawing room. One of the saddest faces of all was Aunt Louisa’s. Even the consolation of her Methodist faith and its assurance she would meet her brother again in the Radiant Kingdom did little to ease her wounded heart. She sat with the fancywork circle, disconsolately sipping tea and ignoring the scones and other pastries that well-meaning guests pressed upon her.

  When the black sea of sympathisers had finally trickled away back to their coaches and carriages, the extended family—Grace, Augustus, Isobel, Charles, Joseph, Anna and Aunt Louisa—were the only mourners left in the echoing house. Rosemount felt emptier than ever today for, despite its expensive new guise as the abode of Mr and Mrs Augustus Cooper, it was still, to most minds, the home of Major Macleod. For Isobel, the Major’s absence haunted every room as palpably as if he was a spirit in limbo. It would take time for all her intimate memories of him to desert this place.

  The family gathered in Father’s study where the solicitor, Mr James Whitton, and the accountant, Mr Simeon Lawson, awaited them. It was time for the reading of the will. Chairs had been arranged in a semi-circle around the Major’s large mahogany desk and everyone took their seats, as if filing into the family pews at church. Because he was not a beneficiary of the will and legally not yet a member of the Macleod family until he wed Isobel, Charles was asked to wait in the drawing room, which he was happy to do.

  ‘This is the last will and testament of Major Sir Angus Hutton Macleod, filed in the probate court of New South Wales a week ago,’ intoned the solicitor in a solemn singsong voice. ‘I must inform you that, while he drew up the original will himself, the testator changed the terms by a codicil signed and witnessed in my office on his return from abroad. In this codicil he named, in the absence of his deceased son William, his son-in-law Augustus Cooper as his executor. It is at Mr Cooper’s request that this meeting has been called to inform Sir Angus’s heirs and beneficiaries of the terms of the will, the manner in which the estate is to be divided and what encumbrances on the estate must be resolved before that can happen.’

  With his benign shining moonface, Grace’s husband occupied the chair between the accountant and the solicitor. ‘As Sir Angus’s executor it is my solemn duty to take an inventory of all the Major’s assets and call upon any creditors to make their claims against the estate. Once these matters have been settled, the Major’s assets can then be distributed according to his express instructions.’ Isobel looked around nervously. What nasty revelations were hidden in this document that would divide this unhappy family even more bitterly than it was divided now? She shuddered to think.

  ‘At the time of Sir Angus Macleod’s death, this house, its grounds and all its outbuildings had already been the subject of a bill of sale to his daughter Grace and her husband, myself, for the sum of twelve thousand pounds. They therefore do not form part of this estate.’ Augustus coughed nervously and Isobel shot a glance at her brother Joseph, who chewed his upper lip in anguish but said not a word.

  Augustus continued. ‘The Major requested that it be known that from the sale of Rosemount, five thousand pounds was set aside to settle the debts, in part, of the 14th Baron Crawley, husband of the Major’s eldest daughter, the Lady Alice Twyckenham, and a further two thousand pounds was set aside in an account to pay an annuity to support her and her son, Xavier John Angus Twyckenham, and to form part of this boy’s inheritance when he achieves majority.’

  Isobel was astonished to hear these large sums being sacrificed for the sake of Alice’s marriage. ‘There remains in the estate two farming properties in Camden with their livestock and improvements as well as three terrace houses purchased more recently in Woolloomooloo. Apart from these properties there are sundry artworks, artefacts, journals and books, coaches and carriages, and a stable of fine riding horses, estimated at a value of about two and a half thousand pounds.’

  Augustus cleared his throat a few times and the shine of his moonish face dulled a little. ‘Unfortunately, I have to inform you of some sizeable debts that have been incurred that are still incumbent upon the estate. These include substantial bills owing to printers in London for the Major’s journals, mortgages and monies for work still outstanding on the new houses in Woolloomooloo and monies for work already completed on the country estates.’

  Isobel could feel the surge of her pulse and a wave of panic that threatened to overwhelm her. In his calm, measured voice, this lawyer, with the soul of an ascetic and the face of an epicurean, was announcing the dismantling of her family’s fortune.

  ‘While his wife, Winifred, was entitled to a widow’s pension, this entitlement was extinguished by her death and no other official provision has been made for the family.’ Isobel could not credit the penny-pinching meanness of the government and the Colonial Office after all her father’s years of service.

  ‘The most serious encumbrance on the estate is the large sum raised and spent on the Major’s screw-propeller scheme, which appears now to promise no financial returns. Nobody has come forward to take up this project and so substantial monies are now due to many investors and suppliers, engineers and others involved in sea trials here and in England.’

  There were gasps from the family as this news fell on them as an unexpected blow. Augustus continued. ‘To settle these outstanding debts, it is proposed to sell two of the terrace houses in Wo
olloomooloo and relinquish most of the residue of the Rosemount sale.’ An awful silence reigned in the Major’s study. All the Surveyor-General’s grand visions were now dust; his fortune, so painstakingly built up over decades, was dissipated.

  ‘This will, of course, affect what assets remain to be distributed to the Major’s beneficiaries according to his wishes. They are as follows. That his beloved sister, Louisa Blunt, receive the sum of one thousand pounds and sundry personal items of sentimental value including letters and diaries. That his eldest daughter, Alice, receive an annuity from the account he has established for her and his grandson, Xavier. That his second daughter, Grace, receive the title to one of the Camden properties. That his third and fourth daughters, Anna and Isobel, share the title to the other Camden property to revert in whole to Isobel on the death of her older sister Anna. That the income from rent or sale of the remaining terrace house be divided between these two sisters. His sons William and Richard’s entitlements reverted to the estate on their deaths as they were not survived by spouses or children. To Grace he has left one thousand pounds, his sword and his portrait; to Anna one thousand pounds, the Broadwood piano and all his sheet music; to Isobel one thousand pounds and his sketchbooks and all his field journals.’

  ‘And for me?’ A voice came harsh and loud from the back of the room. ‘For his disowned and despised second son? Nothing? Nothing! Not a penny?’

  Augustus’s face turned bright red. ‘I am sorry if there has been some misunderstanding, sir, but I had assumed that your father communicated to you his intention to disinherit you.’

  ‘don’t you sir me, you hyena!’ shouted Joseph, now standing and flailing his good arm at the three men at the table. ‘I see how you and my sister have swooped down like vultures and picked apart the carcass of my family’s inheritance. I am the Major’s flesh and blood, sir! I am his son! My two brothers were sacrificed to my father’s heartlessness but I will not be! You will receive letters from my solicitor, sir! This will and testament is nothing but a vicious instrument of my father’s sickly, hate-filled mind! I will see you in court, sir, you and this family, and damn you all!’

  And with that the crippled man fled from the room, leaving the company in a state of profound shock, the women broken down in tears and everyone’s happy prospects in ruins.

  With the dramatic exit of her brother Joseph, Isobel would have been justified in thinking that this sorry day of her father’s funeral had reached its nadir of pathos. But she would have been wrong. Fate had in store even worse scenes of anguish. All semblance of family peace and unity would be smashed before nightfall.

  Charles did his best to comfort Isobel following the shock of Joseph’s outburst, advising her to stay calm and not anticipate the worst. He had an appointment within the hour with one of the city’s most distinguished businesswomen who had sounded him out a few days ago about a portrait commission as well as a possible appointment as an art master for her daughters. Charles could see how much Joseph’s behaviour had grieved Grace and outraged Augustus, and now Anna appeared to becoming agitated. He thought it wisest that Isobel absent herself from Rosemount as soon as possible.

  ‘Promise me you will go back to Faulconstone as soon as it is practicable,’ he told her. ‘I believe nothing more can be resolved here today.’ He kissed her on the cheek and took his leave. While Augustus was occupied with the solicitor and the accountant, the four women withdrew to the drawing room to counsel each other after the distressing scene next door. Aunt Louisa excused herself as she wished to inspect the items in her brother’s room that he had nominated as part of her bequest.

  Anna began to pace back and forth. She had been agitated all day, skulking about the crowd of mourners, her face twisted into a sour expression of disgust and distress, withdrawing into a corner with her brother Joseph to vent her anger. Some of this may have been excusable, or at least understandable, in light of her grief at her father’s funeral. But the truth was she had been growing more restless over the last week. When Charles and Isobel announced their intentions to become engaged, Grace and Augustus had been gracious and warm in their congratulations. Not so Anna. Her face had hardened to stone and her manner chilled. She could barely spit out the words ‘I am very happy for you’. Ever since, she had kept her distance except to glare at them both with looks of uncensored scorn.

  Isobel could tell another typhoon was coming, another explosion of anger. But what Isobel could not foretell was that this vicious outburst was to be the death blow she had feared all along, the cataclysmic convulsion that would bring her whole world crashing down like the Rosemount of her dreams, broken by a giant wave.

  ‘So you must be happy now!’ hissed Anna, at liberty to give full rein to her rage now that Charles was not there to protect Isobel. ‘Your handiwork is all but complete: the utter ruination of this family. Joseph near-drowned and crippled thanks to your disgrace, which drove our two brothers to run away and unhinged poor Father’s mind. And now this! Joseph, so troubled that he threatens us with legal writs!’

  Isobel closed her eyes, refusing to listen to Anna’s ranting. Grace began to soothe Anna as usual. ‘Now, now, dear sister, we are all upset by what has happened.’

  ‘Are you blind?’ screamed Anna. ‘Are you all blind? Cannot you not see how Isobel deceives us? She is a spider spinning a web of deceit. A thief, a liar and a whore! I see everything. Everything! How she played on Mother’s affections and twisted Father to her will. How she took advantage of William’s good nature. And Joseph’s gullibility. How she and that artist have been steeped in sin for months with their kissing and moaning behind Aunt’s back. How she stole what you, Grace, wanted most of all, the gift of Mother’s love!’

  Before Isobel could defend herself, her mad sister ran at her and tore at her black blouse with her long fingers. Grace blanched in terror and reached out to restrain Anna, but too late to save Isobel. Anna clutched at Isobel’s throat, wrenched free the chain from about her neck and, with a triumphant shout, held aloft Isobel’s secret trophy: the opal dragonfly.

  Anna began to laugh. ‘You see! You see! She has made fools of us all!’

  Isobel looked at Grace, her face transfixed with horrified disbelief. ‘I can explain, Grace. It was mother’s wish…her strict instructions…’

  But Isobel’s words failed her. She knew she had lost. There was nothing she could say that would save her now. Grace’s worst suspicions were confirmed, as was her unflagging belief that Isobel was the preferred daughter who stole away Winnie’s love; the cheating, slippery sister who had used her role as go-between to entrap Captain Tranter; the same monstrously selfish and perverse creature with her claws so deeply hooked into Father’s heart that she had thought it was her job to save his life!

  ‘You witch! All this time.’ Grace looked as crazed as Anna. ‘I knew you lied!’

  Isobel’s face reddened and she felt the burn of tears. But these were not tears of self-pity; they were tears of rage. She would not be made to feel guilty for what she had done. She would not apologise for the years of humiliation and cruelty her two sisters had made her suffer. She advanced on them both, her face transformed by a fury no one had ever witnessed. ‘Enough!’ she screamed. ‘Enough!’

  Anna shrieked and cowered near the fireplace. Looking as if she feared actual physical violence, Grace ran from the room to seek help from the men in the study.

  ‘You are the one who is blind,’ said Isobel as she closed on Anna, her back pressed against the mantel. ‘do you think Grace will save you? do you think she wants you around to spoil her perfect life? do you think she hasn’t already signed the papers to have you put away in the madhouse? Nothing can save you now, you, stupid, stupid woman!’

  Isobel slapped Anna’s face so hard she heard her teeth grind and a red stain glowed across her cheeks like a birthmark. In shock, Anna dropped the dragonfly, lifting her hand to soothe her face. She whimpered then with a look as pathetic and frightened as that of a small child. It
did not take much to convince Anna of the terror that already lurked in her heart. A sob broke from her mouth as Isobel lunged forward to retrieve her mother’s brooch. Anna shielded her face and cried out. Wailing piteously, she ran from the room, across the main hall and out the front door into the darkness of nightfall beyond.

  ‘Anna! Come back! Come back, Anna!’

  It was Grace’s voice, urgent and fearful. ‘Quick, after her!’ she said, turning to the servants. Grace and Augustus stood in the doorway of the drawing room. Trembling with rage, they both stared at Isobel. They had heard every word of her speech.

  ‘Filthy liar!’ said Grace, her voice low and menacing. ‘How dare you try to poison my poor sister’s love for me! Anna is right. You are a liar and a thief. Your contempt and hatred for this family is the root of all the evil that has befallen us.’

  Isobel did not reply. She had heard all these accusations before, knew every note of this symphony of recrimination. The same old tune, the tired old story, again and again.

  And then Augustus stepped forward. The moon of his face shone red and his expression was more thunderous than Isobel would have thought possible. He did not roar or bellow. Instead he hissed like a steaming kettle.

  ‘Get out of my house,’ he said. ‘And do not come back.’

  Chapter 32

  EXILE

  FEBRUARY 1853

  Now Isobel was truly in exile. Under a clear, starry sky, she trudged along Rosemount’s driveway to the main road. Her right hand ached from the force with which she had slapped Anna’s face. She should be ashamed but she was not. Her fury impelled her along the winding drive like a woman possessed. Let Grace explain the whole catastrophe to Aunt Louisa, thought Isobel. If her aunt fretted over her disappearance, so be it. damn them all!