Ghost Gum Valley

by Johanna Nicholls

  Edwin reminded him. ‘All men are innocent until proven guilty under British law. I trust no impediment will be placed in your way of serving on the jury. Despite your bias in being Rupert’s friend, or indeed because of it, you of all jurymen can be counted on to ensure that the prisoners accused of his murder are indeed innocent until proven guilty.’

  ‘I hear you loud and clear, Edwin. I’m the last bloke who’d want to see innocent men hanged – and know that the true villains got off scot-free.’

  Marmaduke immediately arranged for Mrs Jones and child to be moved into the commodious Gamble family chambers as soon as Dr Bland gave his approval. Meanwhile they were in rooms adjacent to his and, after changing his clothes in an attempt to make a decent impression on Isabel’s aunt, he received permission to visit her.

  A young housemaid advised him. ‘They are both very fragile, sir. The doctor said one of us assigned girls must sit by their bedside night and day, we must.’

  Marmaduke thanked her. One look at the two figures lying together in the large four-poster bed and Marmaduke was confronted by two projections of Isabel past and future. The woman Isabel might grow to resemble in her later years; the child an image of how Isabel must have looked as a little girl. The family resemblance was unmistakeable in facial structure and colouring. Each pale, drained face bore the stamp of what he now realised was the legacy of generations of aristocratic de Rollands. The woman in her late forties had a natural beauty that poverty and illness had diminished but failed to destroy. When Marmaduke’s eyes rested on the small pinched face of the sleeping Rose Alba, he felt an odd sensation that reminded him of the florid language in romantic novels – ‘his heart turned over at the sight of her’.

  Rose Alba. No doubting she’s Isabel’s child. She’s exquisite. But as fragile as china. God willing she hasn’t travelled this far only to be lost to us! No, I won’t allow that to happen. She’s the only child Isabel and I will ever have.

  Remembering his manners, Marmaduke bowed to the lady and tentatively addressed her by her widow’s surname. Instantly charmed by the gentle smile in her green eyes and her outstretched hand, when she corrected him and established herself as Aunt Elisabeth, he kissed her hand and sat by her bedside.

  ‘Aunt Elisabeth, you are so dear to Isabel’s heart. I’m terribly sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you to New South Wales. I’ve just learnt of your broken voyage and the fever you both suffered. The child is she...will she...?’ He could not bring himself to ask her fate.

  ‘Rose Alba is exhausted and weakened by fever but she is a healthy little soul. The kindly surgeon, your friend Dr Bland, is confident she will make a full recovery given time. However,’ she added with a faint smile of resignation, ‘my old bones will take a little longer, Cousin Marmaduke – if I may call you that?’

  Despite her ordeal Elisabeth’s English county accent and calm manner reminded him of the duchess he had witnessed opening a charity fete in Sussex on the same day that her husband the duke had been carted off to debtors’ prison.

  You’ve got to admire the Brits – it takes a lot to knock ’em off their perch.

  ‘Call me Marmaduke, please. Let’s dispense with the word cousin. In my book it has unfortunate connotations.’

  Elisabeth watched him intently. ‘Ah, I see Isabel has told you about our de Rolland black sheep. Even the most illustrious family tree harbours a villain in one of its branches. Ours is...Silas...I can hardly bear to say his name.’

  Marmaduke held her hand. ‘Put all that behind you. You’re safe with us now. I’ll take care of you both.’

  ‘How kind. But I’m afraid that’s not possible.’ Her breathing became laboured and Marmaduke could see her effort was emotional as well as physical. ‘Something extraordinary happened before I left England. My older brother Godfrey, who had chosen to ignore my existence for the past twenty-seven years, paid me a visit. It was quite moving to see such a proud man bearing an olive branch. He had discovered that one of the orphaned children I’ve had in my care was Rose Alba – Isabel’s half sister.’

  Marmaduke nodded. ‘Don’t worry. Isabel told me everything.’

  He noticed Elisabeth Ogden had a guarded look on her face. Shit, don’t tell me there’s another skeleton in the de Rolland closet.

  ‘My niece must really trust you. There’s more you need to know. Godfrey paid our passages to New South Wales to visit Isabel. He warned me that Silas’s wife Martha had died under suspicious circumstances and he feared that Silas’s obsession with Isabel was so strong it would even drive him to sail down here to claim her.’

  Marmaduke couldn’t prevent a mental flinch. Even down here! Seems like even the nicest Pommies think of New South Wales as the cesspool of the South Pacific.

  Despite this thought, his words were firm and reassuring. ‘You and the kid are perfectly safe in my care, Aunty. But I have to tell you we are fully prepared for Silas’s arrive. He’s been in correspondence with Governor Bourke, but don’t worry, he wouldn’t have the nerve to contact Isabel. If he did it’d be over my dead body!’

  This lady probably reckons my threat is just a heap of Colonial bravado. No need to tell her I’ve already killed one man in a duel.

  Elisabeth made an effort to squeeze his hand. ‘Now that I have met you, I am no longer afraid for Isabel. God surely chose her the right husband.’

  Marmaduke felt uncomfortable about her graceful compliment.

  God? With a bit of help from Garnet Gamble’s manipulations.

  ‘I’ve got to play fair and square with you, Aunty. That’s our Currency way of doing things. From where you de Rollands stand, Isabel married beneath her. In the Colony you’ll hear some folks claim she married a villain. I’d have to second that. It’s true Isabel couldn’t stand a bar of me when we married. We fought like cat and dog. But I finally won her heart. I promise you one thing. I’d die before I’d give Isabel cause to regret being my wife.’

  Elisabeth Ogden smiled. ‘I knew that the moment you swaggered into the room. There’s something about you Currency Lads. Cut like rough diamonds you’re as genuine as the Crown Jewels.’

  Pleased by her heartfelt compliment Marmaduke assured her that as soon as Dr Bland gave them both a clean bill of health he would reunite them with Isabel.

  Elisabeth nodded. ‘I prayed I’d live to see the day Isabel would be free to share her life with Rose Alba. When we’re strong enough to travel I hope to see the child settled in her new family before I return home to England.’

  Marmaduke made a swift mental adjustment to the blueprint of Mingaletta.

  ‘You’re most welcome to live with us. I’m building a house big enough for all of us.’

  Her smile was philosophical. ‘If I were twenty years younger I would leap at the chance of beginning a new life in this strange new land. You and Isabel are young, but my time is running out. My roots are in England now that my brother Godfrey has taken me back into the fold and put my disgrace behind us.’

  High time he did, for God’s sake. All she did was run off and marry an honest sailor.

  ‘Listen, Aunty, if I told you the full story of my own history of shame we’d be here until next Christmas.’

  ‘Is it your family shame? Or the eternal shame of the de Rolland family?’ she asked enigmatically.

  ‘I’m not sure I follow you, Aunty,’ he said carefully.

  ‘Before we set sail my brother Godfrey told me about the connection between our two families. That our young family servant George was the same Garnet Gamble who saved him from debtors’ prison – and is the father of Isabel’s husband.’

  She reached out and grasped Marmaduke’s hand. ‘I was banished after my elopement so I never knew that my gift to your father of a little garnet ring had caused him to be tried as a thief. I assure you if I had known I would have given evidence on his behalf – to counteract Silas’s evidence against him. And he would never have been transported. How on earth can I ever face your father?’

  Ma
rmaduke couldn’t stop laughing until he saw Aunt Elisabeth’s shocked expression. ‘If Garnet hadn’t been transported he’d probably still be Godfrey’s badly paid house servant. What that garnet ring did was turn him into the second wealthiest man in New South Wales!’

  As exhausted as she was, Elisabeth Ogden found the energy to laugh until her eyes filled with tears.

  Mindful of the sleeping child, Marmaduke had tried to keep his voice muted but after this revelation, little Rose Alba opened her eyes and looked directly at him.

  Green eyes. Isabel’s eyes. God, I wish she was mine.

  The little girl studied him without the slightest trace of fear until, as if she had made the decision to trust him, she smiled.

  At that precise moment Marmaduke knew what it felt like to be a father – he was ready to lay down his life to protect his little girl.

  Chapter 44

  Amaru’s grey-speckled claws kneaded the cloth of Garnet’s jacket like the hands of a tailor testing the quality of the fabric. His sulphur crest fanned out in excitement as he chanted his favourite phrase from Punch and Judy: ‘That’s the way to do it! That’s the way to do it!’

  Garnet felt an unaccustomed mood of contentment as he returned to the house with Isabel’s hand resting in the crook of his arm.

  Isabel had been especially sunny and attentive during the days since the double departure from Bloodwood Hall – Marmaduke to Sydney for the Grantham murder trial, Elise to the Garnet and Rose Inn in the village. His informants had told him Elise locked herself in her room refusing all visitors. Garnet interpreted her avoidance of any medical examination to mean she was attempting to hide the fact she was not with child. He felt strangely relieved that Elise had chosen to flee the coop. It saved him making a decision about her fate that at best would be a double-edged sword.

  Garnet hid a wry smile at the sound of Isabel’s rendition of Strawberry Fair in a voice more noticeable for its chirpiness than talent. Suddenly breaking off in mid-verse she switched to singing the praises of her Scottish friend, her shipmate on the Susan’s voyage to New South Wales.

  Isabel had clearly armed herself with the facts. Drawing from her pocket Murray Robertson’s recent letter she quoted his plans to leave his rural employment and seek further ‘Colonial experience’.

  I’m nay afraid of hard work. It’s happy I am to Labour from dawn to dusk. But in all the months I’ve been here I have not seen my Master crack a smile. You’d think every day was the Sabbath. No Music, no joshing, not even the whiff of a dram of Whisky. I came ‘Down Under’ hoping for a wee bit of Adventure. But I might as well be six feet under. I would welcome any suggestions as to how I could better my station, Lass.

  Isabel was quick to reassure Garnet. ‘Murray is as honest as the day is long, quick to learn and has an adventurous spirit. He’s a Highlander but loyal to the Crown, though I don’t doubt he would prefer a Stuart on the throne. Would you be interested in meeting him on the chance you might have an opening for him on one of your rural estates?’

  Garnet shied away from the question of ‘one of his estates’. He had been forced to sell more property than he had intended in order to honour his contract with Godfrey de Rolland.

  He remembered the warning given him by Rhys Powell before the secretary had gone on a bender in the village, fighting all comers until the constable had been forced to lock him up in the Watch House. When sober, Rhys had laid before Garnet the unpalatable facts that he now trailed so far behind Sam Terry in wealth he had not only forfeited his title as the second wealthiest man in the Colony, he was sailing fairly close to the wind financially.

  Garnet was determined to keep face in front of Isabel.

  ‘If your mate Robertson is as good a man as you say, Isabel, I’ll give the matter some thought, but right now I have my full quota of Government men and hired ticket-of-leavers. Whether or not I approve of Fordham’s methods, it takes a tough overseer to keep a rabble of convicts working productively.’

  With Amaru’s eerie instinct for picking up a cue from his master’s tone of voice, the cockatoo ruffled his crest to gain Isabel’s attention and spliced an interjection into the conversation with, ‘What a heap of rot!’

  Isabel was so weak with laughter she clung limply to Garnet’s arm for support.

  ‘Amaru! What a cheeky cocky!’

  Garnet’s tone to the bird was mock serious. ‘You might find your seed rations cut if you don’t mind your manners, old fella!’

  Amaru’s smooth rounded beak pecked at Garnet’s ear and snapped a few words.

  Isabel gasped. ‘I could have sworn he said, “You old reprobate!”’

  ‘He did.’ Garnet chortled despite himself. ‘This old bird even captures the teasing inflection in Miranda’s voice. She spent hours teaching him phrases designed to take a rise out of me. She had a wicked sense of humour.’

  Isabel struggled to keep a straight face as she patted his arm. ‘Amaru must be a great comfort to you. How long do these cockatoos live?’

  ‘God only knows. I caught him in the bush for Miranda when he was a little squirt. Some claim that tamed sulphur-crested cockies might live from fifty to a hundred plus years, so this one will probably outlive me.’ He suddenly grew serious. ‘If he does, could I count on you to give him house room? Despite his foul mouth, Amaru is faithful – a quality rare in the human race.’

  Before Isabel had a chance to respond, Amaru squawked, ‘I’m a Currency Lad, mate!’ Returning to his favourite Punch and Judy routine he began his lively little dance on Garnet’s shoulder chanting, ‘That’s the way to do it!’

  Inside the vestibule Garnet felt the blessed relief of the cool marble interior but was disconcerted when the wide-eyed Aboriginal maid, Black Mary, bobbed in front of him and confided in a nervous whisper.

  ‘Him is waiting for you in your office, Mister Garnet.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Him! Man that bolted.’

  Isabel kissed his cheek. ‘I’ll leave you to your mystery visitor, Garnet. I’d welcome an afternoon nap – the heat is really getting to me,’ she said and hurried up the stairs.

  It was Garnet’s policy never to reveal his hand so he registered no emotion when he entered the library. Looking haggard and shop-soiled young Rhys Powell sprang to his feet hat in hand and began to stammer out an excuse.

  Garnet cut him short. ‘So the constable finally released you from the Watch House did he? I imagine the Wesleyans drummed you out of their ranks for being the town drunk?’

  ‘Indeed they did not. But you have every right to reject me, Mr Gamble. I ask your indulgence to hear me out first.’

  Garnet eyed him coolly as he took his accustomed seat behind the desk.

  ‘You’ve got a lot of gall showing your Welsh face around here, I’ll say that for you.’

  ‘Your opinion of my conduct cannot be any lower than my own. You were a decent employer and I betrayed your trust in me, Mr Gamble. Nothing can change that. I am here to set one thing to rights. A theft.’

  Garnet was quick to pounce. ‘So you did steal my money? Did you also fiddle my account books? Out with it!’

  ‘I have not touched one penny of your money, sir. I am guilty of attempting to steal the affections of your woman but never your wealth.’

  ‘Then what are you belly-aching about? You got her, didn’t you? I’m told she’s at the Garnet and Rose living free off me, while you went off cap in hand to the new tenant of Penkivil Park in search of work. Not so easy without a character from me, eh? Especially when your new woman’s carrying your child.’

  Rhys Powell’s eyes were bleak and his words sounded painful. ‘There is no babe. It was only a ploy to get you to the church. I am not without sin, sir, but even if the babe had existed it could never have been mine. I did not know Elise in the biblical sense.’

  Garnet gave him a penetrating look and decided to believe him. ‘So what do you want from me?’

  Rhys lifted his chin in a desperate atte
mpt to salvage his pride.

  ‘I did not come to ask for your help. I’ll find work of some kind somewhere. I’ll work as a jackeroo, shepherd, anything. It’s a big country. I’m told the West Coast and the Moreton Bay district up north are wide open to men who aren’t afraid to work.’

  ‘The best of British luck to you,’ Garnet said sarcastically. ‘But I can’t quite see my former mistress traipsing after you.’ He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in the traditional gesture indicating money. ‘Elise loves the stuff.’

  ‘I’ll be going it alone, I will.’

  Garnet roared in triumph. ‘So she’s ditched you already has she? Thinks she’s going to wear me down, does she? You can tell her I don’t pay blackmail. Never have, never will!’

  ‘I broke off all connection with her when I discovered this. The woman claims it was a gift. No doubt another of her untruths.’

  Rhys opened a chamois bag and the contents spilled out on the desk.

  Garnet kept his face blank at the sight of the navratan, Miranda’s glorious nine-gem Indian necklace she had worn for Augustus Earle’s portrait of her. It shimmered in the light, lying there as carelessly as if Miranda had just discarded it. For a moment he imagined her standing in the doorway, watching him with that teasing smile of hers.

  Garnet found his voice. ‘It took courage to return this. It rightfully belongs to Marmaduke’s wife. I posted a reward for it with the constable. Claim it. It’s yours.’

  ‘I must refuse it,’ Rhys Powell said quickly. ‘To have remained silent would have made me an accessory to the theft. Despite the wrong I have done you I wanted you to know that this Welsh Taffy is no thief.’ He rose and bowed. ‘I bid you good day, sir.’

  Garnet allowed him to reach the door before he called him back. ‘Not so fast. How far do you think you can get with no money and no reference from me?’

  ‘It’s not lazy, I am. And I’m no coward. I’ll take my chances.’

  ‘Do you think I can’t recognise a man who is hungry and on his uppers?’