Where Rainbows End

  ‘We have a hard job ahead of us, Mr Noble. We have no idea what type of land you have bought,’ said Robson.

  ‘Why, the best land I’m sure,’ Gerald snapped. ‘I took a great deal of effort in acquiring high-quality land with water, and that is what I got.’

  Pippa patted his hand, aware it was fear of another failure that caused his outburst. ‘I’m sure it is, Father. I’m sure Robson simply meant that since we haven’t viewed our land, we should wait before hiring men and supplies until we know what we need.’

  ‘As a requirement of the purchase, I have instructions that I must improve my land with buildings and stock it well. The maps I viewed with the Governor were recently drawn. He has seen the type of land around here,’ Gerald argued, ‘and assured me I wouldn’t be disappointed with the area. He often spends part of the summer in this district.’

  ‘Yes, of course, it will be splendid,’ Pippa agreed, rising. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must retire and write letters to Mother and Hilary telling them we have arrived safely. It has been a long day for us all. I bid you good night.’

  Both men stood, and Robson pulled back her chair for her. ‘Good night, Miss Noble.’

  Gerald kissed her cheek. ‘If you need anything, my room is across from yours. Sleep well.’

  ‘I intend to, Father, for tomorrow I mean to explore!’ She laughed and went upstairs.

  In her room, she pushed aside the thin curtains and stared out. Along the roadside, teamsters camped for the night. The odd bellow of a bullock echoed around the surrounding hills. The small windows of the houses threw golden patches of light from their candles within. A humming noise from the numerous inns lining the street became noticeable as more men joined the throngs to quench their thirst. A sudden feeling of contentment settled over her.

  Here she was in a strange land, surrounded by a community built on the sweating backs of convicts, the ruthlessness of adventurers, the imaginations of dreamers, and the strength of spirited pioneers. And, at this moment, as she stood poised on the precipice of her new life, she had never felt more in tune with her destiny. She belonged here.

  And tomorrow …

  Tomorrow she would walk her land.

  Chapter Four

  Raucous birdsong greeted Pippa as she stepped from the inn and strolled up the road, intent on exploring the town before breakfast. Rumbling drays and laden horsemen riding in from outlying settlements brought the township alive. Coaches, filled to capacity with passengers and luggage, vied for road space with produce-stocked wagons leaving north for Camden, Liverpool, and Sydney.

  Even at this early hour, people crowded the streets to buy and sell. Children and dogs ran wild, ignoring the noise, the dust, and the dangers of being trampled by passing vehicles.

  Pippa gathered her skirts and sidestepped a horse deposit reeking in the morning sun. Her gaze couldn’t hold all the town’s images and she must absorb the details to tell Hilary. Later she would find the time to paint scenes that depicted Berrima. She stopped to watch two birds bicker with each other on a fence post. The soft grey and pink birds were a type she had not seen before. Pippa wished she had thought to carry her sketchbook to capture their likeness.

  Ambling along, content to linger and smell roses growing along cottage picket fences, she nodded to a woman who banged carpets against a wall. She waited until a farmer ushered his milk cow out of her way and onto the village green before crossing the road and heading for the bakehouse, where the aroma of fresh bread tantalised her empty stomach.

  Beside a small wooden cottage, a red rooster strutted in front of a gathering of hens. The hens were having none of him and Pippa smiled at his antics. A typical male.

  Suddenly, she heard whimpering broken by a sniffle. Pippa paused and looked for the source. The muffled cry came again. Intrigued, she stepped towards a large water barrel close to a cottage wall and peeked behind it. A small boy, about five or six years of age and with a shock of curly blond hair, lay curled up on the ground. ‘What is the matter, little one?’

  The dirty face stared up at her. Carefully he stretched his leg and showed her a cut on his knee. A narrow rivulet of blood ran to his ankle.

  ‘Dear me, that must be sore. Where’s your mother?’

  His bottom lip quivered. ‘Inside.’

  ‘Shall we find her?’

  The boy shook his head and gave her a wounded look, his chin wobbled. ‘I wasn’t to climb.’

  She went to speak when a woman’s voice called for Davy. Pippa gazed down at the boy and smiled. ‘Are you Davy?’

  A petite, dark-haired woman appeared around the corner of the cottage. ‘Davy?’ Rushing to them, she plucked the boy from his hiding spot.

  ‘I heard him crying.’ Pippa smiled at her. ‘He has a small cut on his knee.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The woman hitched the boy higher on her hip despite his age and looked at his leg. She took his chin to raise his face to meet her stare. ‘Were you climbing?’

  Davy nodded as fresh tears formed.

  The woman glanced at Pippa and gave her a shy smile. ‘I’m Mrs Millie Stroker.’

  ‘Miss Philippa Noble.’ Pippa held out her hand, pleased when the woman shook it. ‘And this brave soldier must be Davy.’ She tickled the boy’s ribs, making him chuckle through his tears.

  Mrs Stroker’s grey eyes took in Pippa’s ice blue and white lace dress. ‘My home is humble, Miss Noble, but you’re welcome to come in for a cup of tea.’

  ‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’ She followed mother and son to the front of the cottage.

  A substantial gum tree threw shadow over the house, keeping the interior cool. Pippa took off her gloves and noted the basic furniture. No personal items adorned the room; it seemed devoid of all comfort.

  ‘Please sit down, Miss Noble.’ Mrs Stroker indicated a wooden chair by a crudely made table.

  ‘Is your husband at work, Mrs Stroker?’ Pippa sat and winked at Davy, who sat in the opposite chair.

  ‘Yes, yes he is. He’s a fencer.’

  Pippa’s eyes widened.

  ‘I … I mean he makes fences, wooden ones. He’s not a fence as in stolen goods terms …’ she flustered, wringing her hands in her white apron.

  Pippa laughed. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Stroker. I understood straight away what you meant.’

  ‘Oh, good, and please call me Millie.’

  ‘Only if you call me Philippa, or preferably, Pippa.’

  Davy looked up from his inspection of the cut. ‘May I call you Pippa?’

  Millie rounded on him. ‘Certainly not! Now go wash your hands and that cut. There’s more dirt in there than in my potato bucket.’

  Pippa smiled as Davy peeped at her from under his lashes and slunk past.

  ‘I had best make some tea.’ Millie paused at the door, her cheeks suffusing with colour. ‘I … I have nothing to eat with it. I’m sorry. We had porridge for breakfast, but I’ve yet to bake some bread.’

  Standing, Pippa gathered up her gloves. ‘You make some tea and I’ll go along to the bakehouse. Shall we have cake or pie?’

  Millie blinked rapidly.

  Pippa grinned. ‘Oh, let us have both.’

  The noise from the taproom next door hummed into the dining room. Logs shifted in the fireplace, sending sparks up the chimney. Pippa fidgeted in her chair and drummed her nails on the cream-coloured tablecloth. As a maid hurried past the door, Pippa rose out of her seat. ‘Excuse me?’

  The maid returned, adjusting her white lace cap. ‘Yes, Miss Noble?’

  ‘Is my father, Mr Noble, about?’

  ‘Yes, miss, I do believe he just this minute came in.’ The maid looked to the door. ‘I hear him now, miss.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Pippa sat down as her father entered.

  ‘There you are, dearest.’ Gerald kissed her cheek. ‘Have a nice morning?’

  ‘Yes.’ She frowned and tried not to appear suspicious. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I have talked to a fe
w businessmen and made enquiries about the nature of the area. I have left a note for the surveyor to contact me as soon as he arrives in town.’

  She relaxed after learning that business concerns and not ill-favoured schemes or gambling had occupied his time. ‘And Robson?’

  ‘Well, at this minute he is scouting for builders to come out to the property. He and I also bought sheep today. Two hundred head. Their wool will add to our income and their meat to our diet. We secured a shepherd, as well.’

  ‘Will they not eat all the grass for the horses?’

  ‘The sheep will eat the rough, coarse grass. The horses will be hand-fed until we can sow our own grass. They must have the best, of course.’

  ‘I heard dairy cattle fared well in this area. I think it would be wise to add a small herd to our stock.’

  ‘Totally agree, my dear.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I’m ravenous, this country air has me as hungry as a bear.’

  As the barmaid brought their tea tray, Pippa shook out her napkin. ‘I am so impatient to see our land, our new home.’

  ‘It will be worth it, I promise you.’ Gerald leaned back in his chair. ‘Now, there is a mail coach leaving in the hour, do you wish to send the letters to your mother and sister?’

  ‘Yes, I have one to finish.’ She poured a cup of tea for them both. ‘I’ll go presently and do so. I’ve managed to quickly sketch the main street for them, too.’

  Gerald added sugar. ‘Tell me, how did you spend your morning? Did you paint?’

  ‘No, a few sketches done and that is all.’ She took a sip of tea and glanced at him. ‘I went for a walk and made a new acquaintance, Mrs Stroker. She has a little boy. We spent a pleasant hour together.’

  ‘That’s nice, dear.’

  ‘I enjoyed her company. Her boy is delightful.’

  ‘Where does she live?’ Interest showed in her father’s eyes. ‘What does her husband do?’

  ‘She lives in a cottage at the top end of the village.’ Pippa waited for his reaction.

  ‘A cottage?’

  ‘Yes, and her husband is a fencer.’

  Gerald jerked, spilling his tea. ‘A fence!’

  Pippa hid a grin as she mopped up his mess. ‘Fencer. The kind that keeps animals in.’

  Gerald shook his head. ‘Lord, you had me there. You know your mother will expect you to keep a high standard of acquaintances even though we’re in the country.’

  ‘Millie is very nice.’ She poured him more tea. ‘She is a reverend’s daughter from Kent.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘When her father died, Millie came out here to be a governess, but soon married.’

  ‘To a fencer.’ Selecting a sandwich, Gerald looked at her under his eyebrows. ‘It is a shame she is not of our class, my dear. Your mother will not accept anything less.’

  ‘Millie is genteel and educated, Father. She cannot help that she married poor. She had no family.’

  ‘Your mother will not accept her husband.’

  Pippa shrugged, playing with the teaspoon. ‘Nevertheless, I like her and her son.’

  ‘Your mother needs no more encouragement in thinking this family has slipped even further down the social ladder. Try and keep her standards.’

  She rolled her eyes and sipped her tea. ‘You know that back home I had many friends and not all were of our class.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s beside the point. Here, we must do better.’

  ‘I will continue to call on Millie, Father. This area isn’t so populated that one can pick and choose their female company. Millie Stroker is a gentlewoman. Her only fault is that she’s reduced in circumstances, and we know how that feels, don’t we?’

  ‘What a day it will be when you have a son of your own, hey, Pippa?’ He grinned.

  Her father’s quick change of subject brought a wry smile to her face. It was a ploy of his whenever he wasn’t winning an argument. ‘I’ll not be having children, Father. You know that.’

  Gerald frowned. ‘Now, Pippa, you will meet another man. One who will make you forget Grant Lindfield.’

  She shifted uneasily in her chair. How she hated it when anyone spoke his name. It made her think of the one man she had resolved to put out of her mind forever. The pain of loving someone who did not love her in return had dimmed, but refused to die – just like the scandal back home.

  Pippa raised her chin. She couldn’t let her feelings for Grant Lindfield get in the way of what she wanted to achieve in this country, here where no one knew of her shame.

  Rain descended on the region, holing up the surveyor in the nearby settlement of Sutton Forest. A full week passed before their land was surveyed. Pippa spent that time visiting Millie and Davy. She enjoyed their company and learnt practical ways of colonial housekeeping – lessons vital for living in the bush – for women of all classes.

  At last, late on a Friday evening, just as they were to leave the sitting room, the surveyor walked into the inn. He left his men at the bar to quench their thirst before closing time.

  ‘My good fellow.’ Gerald stood and shook the man’s hand and then introduced him to Pippa. ‘You’ll have a drink, of course?’

  The surveyor nodded and then bowed to Pippa.

  ‘Is our position good, sir?’ She held her breath for the answer.

  ‘A finer area of land will be hard to find, Miss Noble. However, it’s a fair ride out of town, nearly five miles, in fact, and no clear track of road at all.’ The surveyor paused. ‘The terrain is rocky and your acres are bound on each side by steep hills and gorges. Yet, down in the middle of all this is a great stretch of flat land. What you have, in fact, is a valley.’

  ‘A valley …’ Pippa hardly dared to breathe, such was her anticipation.

  Gerald leant forward, his face glowing with enthusiasm. ‘What about water?’

  ‘A good creek, not very wide in parts, runs through the property. Indeed, sir, you are most fortunate. You are surrounded by Crown land, which you can inquire about for grazing purposes.’ The surveyor handed over a small leather pouch. ‘I have put my initials in many trees to mark the boundaries, but it is all written in there.’ He nodded to the pouch. ‘It contains copies of the maps which I will lodge at the government offices.’

  ‘I thank you, sir.’ Gerald shook the man’s hand. ‘You’ve given us the best news we could hope for.’

  After the surveyor left, Pippa slipped her hand through her father’s arm. Happiness made her light-headed. ‘I cannot believe it, Father, after waiting so long and dreaming of it and now we finally have confirmation. Land, indeed, a valley!’

  He kissed her forehead. ‘A home of our own, Pippa. Imagine it.’

  ‘One no one can take from us.’ Tears pricked her eyes and she struggled to talk. ‘We leave tomorrow to inspect it?’

  ‘Definitely, my dear. The sooner the better.’

  A sun-drenched morning greeted the party when they headed north-west out of Berrima. Once on the outskirts of the town, the bush grew thick with scrub, rendering the wagon and gig nearly useless. After nearly five miles of battling steep hills and rock-strewn descents, they left the transports and went the rest of the way on foot. However, this setback didn’t deter them, and Pippa, excited as a child at Christmas, hoisted her skirts above her ankles and strode ahead.

  Stepping over grass tussocks and around jutting boulders, she jumped as startled kangaroos and rock wallabies bounded away, their thumping feet sounding like distant thunder. Flocks of white cockatoos screeched their disapproval from high in the trees.

  The sharp scent of eucalyptus permeated the air and Pippa sniffed deeply, wondrously. At intervals, trees thick with blooms of yellow, which she knew to be called wattles, punctuated the grey-green landscape and gum trees let their little blooms of red dance in the breeze.

  She jerked suddenly as a low branch jagged at her skirt. Her father helped to extricate the material and when her petticoat’s lace hem tore, she cared little. Nothing and no one could spoil
this day.

  Gerald grimaced at the ruined fabric. ‘You should not have come, my dear.’

  ‘Nonsense, Father.’ Pippa grinned. ‘A little hardship strengthens character.’

  ‘Mr Noble.’ Robson gestured to a large eucalyptus trunk. The surveyor’s initials were cut deep into the bark.

  Gerald consulted his maps. ‘This ridge ends another ten yards further on.’

  Pippa hurried the remaining distance, nearly tripping in her haste. She stepped beyond a large tree and stopped.

  Below, bathed in golden glory, lay their valley.

  Tingles of excitement mixed with reverent joy sucked her breath away. She scanned the horizon of rugged hills and then gazed down at the inviting valley. It was everything she’d dreamed of and more, because it was real. Tears gathered behind her eyes, blocking her throat. ‘It’s perfect.’

  ‘How in God’s name are we to get down there with the wagon?’ Robson mumbled, breaking her spell of wonder. He walked closer to the edge and peered down at the jagged outcrops of rocks and boulders that broke up the density of the trees and bush.

  Gerald took off his hat and wiped his sweating forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Maybe further along there is an easier route down.’

  They walked on for another hundred yards before finding another tree with the surveyor’s initials marked in it and also an arrow scratched next to them.

  Robson pointed to a gentler slope and a roughly cut track snaking through the trees and scrub. ‘If the surveyor went down there, then that must be the easiest way.’ He frowned. ‘I wonder if he took transports …’

  ‘Likely packhorses.’ Gerald studied his maps again.

  Pippa walked to the edge of the slope. She paused to gauge the steepness and then reached for a nearby sapling to keep her steady as she edged her way down.

  ‘Pippa!’

  Her father’s shout made her stop and glance back. ‘It’s all right, Father. Hold onto the trees.’

  Robson and Gerald hurried towards her and gingerly made their way to her side.

  Gerald gripped her arm. ‘You are too headstrong. It was a foolish thing to do.’