The Lace Balcony

by Johanna Nicholls

  This unexpected rise in status was challenged by unwanted thoughts about Vianna’s future and exactly what the culmination of the Transit of Venus entailed.

  Felix has the family name and fortune, the stamp of a true gentleman and a place at the highest level of society – equipped to sail through the doors of Severin House and bid for her. I’m no gentleman. All I’ve got to my name is a gold watch and a stable for my horse. That leaves a choice between cheating at cards – or fratricide.

  His half-brother, blissfully unaware he was the object of Mungo’s dark thoughts, was engaged in discussing Darling’s libel suits against newspaper editors.

  Mungo tried to convince himself that he had a head start. I’ll bet Felix has never been to bed with a woman. He’s awkward even chatting to girls. Me, I can talk my way into bed. And my stories move Fanny to tears – proof that despite Severin, she still has a soft heart. As for gambling, Felix wouldn’t know an Ace from a Joker. I can cheat and live to tell the tale. But how the hell can I set foot inside Severin House?

  Mungo’s mind was only half listening to the subtle undercurrents between Albruna and his father. Felix’s quiet air of confidence made him suddenly uneasy.

  In an attempt to needle him, Mungo ostentatiously withdrew his new watch and checked the time. ‘Isn’t this the hour you usually visit the stars, Felix?’

  Felix gave a start and checked his own replica timepiece. ‘Good God, so it is!’

  Mungo followed Felix’s anxious glance out the window to where the family carriage stood waiting.

  I can read him like a book. Felix has got some secret agenda – but what?

  At that precise moment the clock struck half of nine. The double doors were flung open. Kentigern L’Estrange’s guest of honour stood framed in the doorway.

  Chapter 20

  Felix rose in surprise at the sight of the slightly built, yet quietly impressive man that his mother dismissed as ‘that charlatan’.

  Assuming the role of host, Felix went to greet the guest, irritated to be intercepted by Mungo, who welcomed the man with outstretched arms.

  ‘Sandy! How great to see you. I had no idea you were the guest of honour.’

  ‘I dinna deserve that title, but Mr L’Estrange wanted my arrival to surprise ye, lad. I understand belated twenty-first birthday greetings are in order.’

  Dr Gordon’s bow to his hostess was delivered with an apology for his late arrival that she accepted graciously.

  Seated with wineglass in hand, he turned to his host. ‘I have no wish to sail under false colours. It is only fair to explain the cause of my delay. My meeting with the Governor’s secretary was an attempt to confirm whether or nae the Governor had recommended to the Colonial Office the pension for Captain Logan’s widow. I am well aware of Logan’s brutality as Commandant, but his widow and bairns should nae be penalised. Forgive me. Injustice makes my blood boil.’

  Felix and Mungo were both surprised by Albruna’s immediate response.

  ‘We have that in common, Dr Gordon. I shall speak to Mrs Darling at the first opportunity. We shall all write letters to the authorities, shall we not, Mr L’Estrange?’

  ‘Agreed!’ exclaimed Kentigern and thumped the table for emphasis.

  Mungo drew Sandy out about his new position in Sydney Town in Dr Adam Golding’s medical practice.

  ‘A Hebrew and Quaker may sound an odd partnership but it’s working well. It’s good to hang up my shingle for my first practice after being a naval surgeon.’

  Felix felt empowered by the champagne his father had kept for this special night of celebration. He forced himself to keep smiling at the stories Sandy and Mungo told to entertain them, but his thoughts ran contrary.

  I have everything needed to meet Severin’s requirements for the contract. Father has agreed to free the necessary funds. He’s on my side, no doubt sympathetic because Jane Quayle’s been his mistress for years. I can count on his discretion – all hell would break loose if Mutti discovered I’ve had a woman in keeping for years.

  Mungo was now holding forth about the Diamond Python he had cooked for a bush banquet. He placed the scene ‘in New Zealand’ for the benefit of the servants.

  ‘Perhaps. Mrs L’Estrange, you’d like me to instruct your cook, Mrs Baker, on how to bake snake Aboriginal style, buried in the ground?’

  She inclined her head with a smile. ‘Thank you, no. I prefer to enjoy the story of your culinary exploits – I’m content to accept your word snake tastes like chicken.’

  Against his will Felix was impressed by Mungo’s easy manner, the artless way he could wear a fashionable suit yet disregard etiquette by slouching in his seat, making theatrical gestures to illustrate his stories. His silver tongue holds his audience under his spell. Yet that same gift brought him within an inch of the gallows. I was born with every advantage – but one. Mungo is the cavalier I can never hope to be.

  Talk shifted to colonial gossip involving men in high places. Then there was an awkward silence when Sandy showed interest in ‘the handsome woman I encountered in the hall, carrying a basket of herbs’.

  Felix envied Mungo’s knack of using humour to steer the conversation from pitfalls.

  ‘That’d be my mother, Jane Quayle,’ Mungo said quickly, ‘she inherited her good looks from me.’

  Laughter at his brash retort broke the tension for all but Albruna. She chose the next moment to excuse herself, albeit graciously.

  Flourishing his cane, Kentigern shepherded the three men to his games room to enjoy ‘man talk’, cigars, and the best his fine cellar had to offer. Felix tagged along, but now they were free from the threat of servants’ gossip, his father openly focused on Moreton Bay and the doctor as the hero whose intervention virtually saved Mungo’s life. Although Felix had been instrumental in his father’s correspondence with the doctor at Moreton Bay, he now felt invisible.

  I should be pleased that my role as Father’s interpreter is almost obsolete. Instead I feel a curious sense of loss. Father no longer needs me. He enjoys the bravado of Mungo’s tales. No mention of the dark side of Moreton Bay or Logan’s murder. Mungo tells people what they want to hear – to hell with the truth.

  Offering a polite excuse to enable him to withdraw, Felix checked his appearance in the hall mirror. His face betrayed the emotion that had shadowed him since childhood – envy. Well for once I’m going to play Mungo at his own game.

  He hurried out into the night to the waiting carriage.

  • • •

  There was a dim light in the hallway when Felix turned his key in the lock. As usual he felt slightly discomforted passing the picture of the female saint whose eyes were piously raised to heaven. From the doorway that led to the outside privy and skillion, the middle-aged housekeeper bobbed a curtsey. The under-sized boy with rickety legs peered from behind her skirt, cap in hand, ever ready to run messages day or night.

  ‘Good evening, Mr L’Estrange,’ she said behind a hand that disguised her missing front teeth. ‘I made the fine shepherd’s pie you like, if it pleases you.’

  ‘Thank you, Essie. Not tonight.’

  Felix made his way to the upstairs front room and gave a peremptory knock.

  Maria Navarro was dressed as usual in a discreet widow’s gown of black faille, her dark hair coiled in an elaborate knot that was never allowed to reveal a thread of grey. She touched the small gold brooch at her throat, a nervous habit that for some reason irritated Felix, as if it were a token of some happier past. On the side table by the fire was the customary Corsu red wine, French cheese and salt biscuits.

  Felix tried to suppress the automatic images of the hours spent in her company. Despite her smile of welcome, he noted the weary lines traced around eyes that were large and dark, the sign of her Corsican blood. By candlelight she looked no more than thirty but Felix suspected she was considerably older.

  He politely declined the wine. ‘I regret I am not free to stay, Mrs Navarro. I have an appointment this evening tha
t cannot be postponed.’

  His mistress waited in polite silence and Felix found himself floundering.

  ‘The truth is I only came to thank you for our past friendship. Circumstances have changed. This is my final visit. To be honest, I’ve met a young woman.’

  She nodded, betraying no surprise. ‘It is only natural. You are a young man.’

  Oh God, how insensitive of me to draw attention to her age.

  He placed the envelope on the table. ‘You have my word that I will continue to take care of the lease on this house until such time as you wish to make other arrangements. I assure you there is no haste for you to do so. Meanwhile you will experience no hardship – and can continue to retain Essie and her son.’

  ‘I understand perfectly. I thank you for the respect you have shown me – as did young Mr Quayle. You two gentleman have much in common.’

  Startled, Felix exclaimed, ‘What? Mungo Quayle has been here? Why did you never tell me that?’

  ‘I am nothing if not discreet, Sir. An amusing lad, generous too. It was long before his troubles sent him to – New Zealand.’

  She knows that’s a lie. Does she also know we are brothers?

  Her question was tentative. ‘How well do you know Mungo, Sir?’

  ‘Well enough. We have little in common. I must bid you good night, Mrs Navarro. If you are ever in need I shall do what I can to assist you.’

  Felix resumed his seat in the carriage feeling unreasonably cross.

  Damn it all, he must have known her years before I did. She speaks of him with real affection. No doubt my performance was tame compared to Mungo. Second best yet again.

  Felix tried to regain his calm as the carriage rocked along the winding track. I do hope I haven’t taken too much wine. I’ve never been one for games of chance. But tonight I must risk everything.

  As he alighted he glanced up at the planet Venus, the brightest star in the heavens, that had enchanted him like no other – until the moment he had discovered the living Venus.

  • • •

  The face of his gold watch showed half of midnight. Felix chose the darkest corner of the ballroom, hoping that his presence would pass unrecognised by any gentleman who could carry the news to his mother.

  During the past hour the large sum of money he had lost at the tables was of no real consequence. What was to come was the biggest gamble of his life.

  There was an air of high expectation amongst the select group of gentlemen lounging and drinking before the drawn curtains that concealed the stage, awaiting the first performance of The Transit of Venus.

  Felix covertly studied each face, wondering who would be his most likely rival for Vianna’s company. He accepted another glass of champagne and drew back into the shadows, feeling tension in every muscle when Severin appeared at the side of the stage.

  The man projected the assurance of a theatrical conjurer. His introduction whetted their appetite for ‘a magical transformation you are privileged to behold for the first time in the world.’

  The scarlet curtains parted. The audience gave an audible gasp. Felix was transfixed, ashamed that he was no better than any other man in the room. He was consumed by a wild surge of lust, never before experienced.

  Centre stage, framed within a life-sized gilt frame, was a living replica of Bonnard’s painting, ‘Venus Observed’. She lay immobile on a Roman sofa, clothed in a robe so diaphanous it failed to conceal the pink buds of her nipples. Her tumbling mass of golden hair was arranged in the classical style of ancient murals, but magically transformed to gold by cleverly concealed lighting.

  Venus did not blink or betray any sign of breathing. Her unwavering gaze did not focus on any man in the room. Her expression of remote dreaminess conveyed that she was above all need of human admiration.

  Venus incarnate – the most beautiful creature God ever placed on earth.

  Aware of his incongruous combination of monotheism with paganism, Felix trusted God would forgive his blasphemous thought.

  Each man rose in turn, invited onto the stage. Each strutted in the posture of an art critic, comparing Bonnard’s painting with the living Venus. Felix alone remained hidden in the shadows.

  The curtains closed. Wild applause. Some minutes later Severin reappeared, reassuring them that there were six chances to enjoy the private company of the goddess of love – but tonight Venus had made her first choice! His gesture caused all heads to swivel in the direction he indicated – their faces flushed, inebriated, hostile, curious.

  Felix’s heart beat with sickening speed. He now realised the identity of the first man Venus had chosen.

  Chapter 21

  ‘Thank God that’s over!’ the goddess exclaimed the moment the stage curtains were drawn together, creating a welcome barrier between herself and her audience. Vianna instantly broke her pose as Venus, free to blink and breathe normally.

  Wanda was waiting in the wings with a glass of champagne and a shawl, but Vianna’s first instinct was to peer through the peephole in the proscenium arch.

  ‘Are there any new faces out the front, Wanda? It’s so dark it’s hard to tell.’

  ‘There’s a young man in the shadows. Tall, blond and rather handsome.’

  Could that be Mungo Quayle?

  ‘Oh yes, I see him. It’s that young Romantic, what’s his name? L’Estrange. Who rescued me at Jean-Baptiste’s exhibition.’

  Severin laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘You did well, Vianna, electrified your audience. I shall now announce the first man you’ve chosen, Sir John Humphries.’

  ‘No you won’t! He has more arms than an octopus. I shall dine with Felix L’Estrange.’

  ‘Don’t be a child, Vianna. You can’t reject Humphries twice in one week. He’s one of the wealthiest men in the running.’

  ‘The L’Estrange heir – or I shall eat and sleep alone tonight! Just watch me!’ she threatened. ‘Come Wanda, I must bathe and change.’

  Turning her back on Severin, she headed for the stairs, enjoying a small sense of victory on hearing Severin make the announcement.

  • • •

  Her sitting room was designed to suggest it was the portal to forbidden adventures. The archway gave a tantalising glimpse of her bedchamber, where soft candlelight played on the silken drapes festooned around her bed, its underwater colours those of a mermaid’s cavern, hung with shimmering fringes like seaweed. In any man’s language this scene was an open invitation to the imagination.

  Bathed and changed into a filmy aqua silk robe, her hair flowing freely in a mass of waves, Vianna stretched out across the sofa, arranging the folds of her robe to give a daring glimpse of her ankles, one foot naked, the other dandling a gold sandal.

  ‘Ah, we meet again, Mr L’Estrange. I am delighted to be able to thank you in person for your gallant act in rescuing me at Henrietta Villa.’ She added with a pout, ‘But why has it taken you weeks to visit me. Had you forgotten me?’

  Felix bowed low. ‘If only I could hope to make your rescue a more permanent one, Madame Francis.’ Once the words were out, his face flushed with embarrassment and she was touched by his youth, gentility and inexperience.

  ‘Please, let us dispense with formality. Whatever the future holds, I trust that we will remain friends – but perhaps, so very much more? May I tempt you?’ At Felix’s blink of surprise, she added, ‘To a glass of champagne.’

  Drawing him to a chair beside her she handed him the goblet, gazing at him over the rim of her own glass, one of the arts of innocent seduction in her repertoire, one that enabled her to study him. The L’Estrange heir is really very attractive, by far the best of tonight’s crop. Mungo Quayle failed to appear – further proof that his status as a wealthy gentleman is dubious.

  ‘You know so much about me, Felix, please tell me about you. How does a gentleman of leisure find pleasure in Sydney Town? You’re not an experienced gambler?’

  ‘No, indeed, Vianna. I only came here to see you again.’


  ‘Then no doubt you know tonight is unlike my usual performances as a chanteuse. But my career must soon be confined to entertaining one chosen gentleman – such as yourself. What things please you, Felix?’

  His eyes shone like an animal cornered by the light of a hunter’s lantern.

  ‘Astronomy is my passion,’ he stammered. ‘Each night I travel amongst the stars via my telescope. You would not believe how amazing the galaxy appears in the Southern Hemisphere. Imagine how awed Captain James Cook must have been when he charted the Transit of Venus, during his first voyage of discovery on the Endeavour in 1769 . . .’

  Vianna only half listened to his boyish, enthusiastic account, charmed by his naïveté. His restraint intrigued her. Felix made no attempt to take any liberties. Despite his obvious awareness of her physical attractions he kept his gaze resolutely fixed above her neck. Vianna decided it was high time to tempt him. When she gently lifted the lock of hair that fell across his forehead, Felix drew back as if burned by her touch.

  He continued his nervous monologue at great speed, branching off into an Aboriginal Dreamtime legend about the creation of the Milky Way.

  Felix is a rare gentleman but he’s no virgin. I can always pick a male who is all bluff and no experience, but he does have an endearing quality of purity. As if he’s intent on showing me the same respect he would to a girl who wasn’t naked beneath her robe.

  Vianna refilled his glass, confident that even if drunk, Felix L’Estrange was not a man to leap on her and tear off her clothes.

  He was now earnestly embarked on explaining the relationship between Venus and the Earth, Sun and Moon. The strange names of constellations made her heard whirl. Good heavens, he’s making love to me under the guise of astronomy. How sweet and naïve he is. I wonder what he’d be like as a lover – in bed.

  ‘I do declare, Felix, you could be a professor. No doubt Governor Darling would value your services. I understand he has an observatory at his summer residence at Parramatta?’

  ‘Indeed, the Government Astronomer, James Duncan, has invited me to visit it. Perhaps you would care to accompany me?’ Felix coloured with embarrassment. ‘But I do not claim to be an expert, Vianna. I am simply a passionate dilettante. I spend hours exploring the Milky Way through my telescope. It is often dawn before I realise I have forgotten to go to bed.’