The Lace Balcony

by Johanna Nicholls

  ‘A sad tale – all too common. Is this Fanny in need of employment here?’

  Mungo almost choked on his tea. ‘Thank you but Fanny is using the time to increase her literacy skills. I offered her the loft as a temporary refuge – until we find Daisy. Then the sisters will be moving on.’

  ‘You have a good heart, Mungo Quayle. I regret to say I may have misjudged you in the past.’

  ‘The debt is all mine. If there’s ever anything I can do to help you, just name it.’

  Pleased to be offered a cue, she poured him a second cup of tea. ‘It happens there is something you could do for me. I need to have a large parcel delivered here – I must hide it.’ She looked flustered. ‘I do not wish to draw attention to its arrival. It is my secret, you understand? You know how Sydney Town runs on gossip.’

  ‘I surely do. I’d be happy to collect it for you. I could store it out of sight in the stables until you make other plans.’

  What the hell is she up to with this cloak and dagger stuff?

  Her relief was almost palpable. She handed him a piece of paper. ‘This is the address.’

  ‘Consider it done.’ Mungo bowed with true respect and took his leave of her.

  He mulled over their conversation, strangely touched by her unexpectedly vulnerable expression. The address was printed – no handwriting to give away the writer’s identity – male or female.

  Sounds like the gossip is true. I reckon Albruna L’Estrange has done something that would rock her place in society if it leaked out. She can’t bring herself to tell Felix, her perfect son. So she came to me, the black sheep.

  As Mungo made his way down the garden path to his mother’s cottage, he steeled himself against the sight of the soft light of a hurricane lamp burning in Vianna’s window.

  As soon as I’ve found Daisy I’m off the hook. If she chooses to shack up with Felix at Mookaboola, that’s their business. Just so long as I get her out of my life – and my head. Who am I kidding? I want her so badly she’s driving me nuts.

  Entering Jane’s cottage, he was startled by the sight of the body on the couch.

  Jesus, it’s that kid. Toby the messenger boy. This is all I need.

  The lad lay asleep, his skin two shades lighter than Mungo had seen it previously, clearly scrubbed clean after a bath and wearing one of Mungo’s shirts like a nightshirt with its sleeves rolled up. The sight of his mother standing hands akimbo warned him he had better talk fast.

  ‘Sorry, Mam, I should have warned you I was expecting a message from the kid’s employer – I wasn’t expecting a house guest.’

  Jane threw up her hands in exasperation but lowered her voice in respect for the sleeping child. ‘You mean to say you knew he was coming? You were just going to dump this little waif on my doorstep – like the orphan bandicoot, ’possums and flea-bitten pups you landed on me when you were a kid?’ Her voice dropped to a hissed whisper. ‘To say nothing of the mermaid you abducted.’

  ‘Hey, leave Fanny out of it, Mam. She’ll be gone in a few weeks. You can’t see her kind living happily ever after in a stable, can you?’ The note of bitterness in his words surprised him and quietened his mother.

  Jane gestured to the sleeping child. ‘What about this poor little scrap? His legs are so bandy with rickets you could drive a bullock train between them. And he’s so ravenous he’s already eaten tomorrow’s breakfast. Does his mother, that Essie woman, know he’s here? And what were you doing in a bawdy house anyway? You’re supposed to be courting that mermaid upstairs!’

  ‘Fair go, Mam. Give a man a chance to answer one question at a time.’

  ‘He brought a letter. You’d better read it.’

  Mungo was halfway through it when he sank down on a chair.

  ‘I told Mrs Navarro if she ever needed help to call on me. Well she does.’

  ‘How long is he going to stay here?’

  ‘How long is a piece of string?’

  ‘One night,’ Jane warned. ‘Tomorrow you take Toby back where he belongs before the traps turn up on my doorstep and charge us with kidnapping!

  ‘Have a heart, Mam. Just look at the little tyke. He probably won’t even reach his next birthday unless we feed him up.’

  Mungo turned on her the sad, hangdog expression that had always worked for him as a kid. ‘I thought I could count on you, Mam.’

  ‘Don’t try and soft-soap me. We Manx know what it’s like to be poor. We never turn a hungry man away empty-handed. Do you think I’d be guilty of turning a little chap out in the snow?’

  Snow had not fallen in Sydney for untold millennia, but Mungo appreciated the sentiment. ‘Right. So if you calm down, Mam, I’ll explain. It’s really quite simple. Maria, Mrs Navarro, is a widow in keeping in a house leased by our friend Felix.’

  ‘Well! I must say I didn’t know Felix had it in him.’ Jane gave a wicked smile. ‘Does Mrs Less know her perfect son is a dark horse with a mistress?’

  ‘No, and she’s not going to hear it from me. Nobody’s business except Felix’s. I’m only telling you because this involves young Toby.’ Mungo helped himself to a hunk of his mother’s cake. ‘You see, Maria Navarro’s in a tight corner. She’s accepted an offer of marriage from some straight-laced lay preacher, because she’s in the early stages of consumption. But if she marries him there’s no room for her sister Essie and young Toby to live with her. So Maria asked me would I take him rather than send him to the Benevolent Asylum.’

  ‘Shame on her, to even think of turfing him out!’

  Mungo was thinking fast. ‘Maybe the kid could run errands for us. I could teach him to read and write and when he’s older I could buy him an apprenticeship in a good trade. Y’know, Mam, sort of act as the kid’s godfather.’

  ‘I won’t argue with that. But why you? Why not ask Felix, her protector?’

  ‘Fair go, Mam. Can you imagine Felix playing godfather to a street urchin? Having the kid live with him at Rockingham Hall?’

  ‘I see your point. But why did this Navarro woman pick you?’

  ‘Because – well because, when I was sixteen she was the first woman who . . .’

  He let the words hang in the air. His mother was never slow to pick up on a hint. ‘Made a man of you. Right. But what about the boy’s mother, that housekeeper, doesn’t she have a say in all this?’

  ‘Well, that’s the tricky bit. The cook isn’t exactly Toby’s mother – that’s actually Maria. Toby was raised by the cook because Maria was busy – working.’

  ‘And made the poor mite sleep in the back shed, did Mrs Navarro tell you that?’

  ‘No. I only discovered it when I visited her last week. Not what you’re thinking – as a friend. I also discovered there’s a good chance that Felix might be . . .’

  Light dawned on Jane. ‘Toby’s father?’

  ‘Yeah. There’s no way of ever knowing for sure, but the timing could fit. Toby was conceived about the time Felix took over the lease of the Foveaux Street house. You know Felix, he could never bring himself to acknowledge a bastard kid.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Hey, the L’Estranges can’t even give me the nod in public!’

  Jane digested that information. ‘So Toby could be your half-brother’s son?’

  ‘Sure could. But it’s not quite as simple as that, Mam. I’ve seen Toby’s christening certificate. He was born six months after I was sent to Moreton Bay. So you see . . . there’s also an outside chance . . .’

  Mungo counted the seconds on the clock as his mother eyed him in silence.

  ‘Mungo, are you telling me that Toby might be your nephew – or your son?’

  He nodded, looking at her in wonderment. ‘I just knew you’d understand, Mam.’

  Jane Quayle sank back in her chair and closed her eyes to blot out the world. But she was nothing if not resilient, and soon sprang back up to take charge.

  ‘Pour yourself a drop of Glen Kella whisky. While you’re at it, pour one for me.’

  • • •
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br />   The hurricane lamp was still shining when Mungo stood in the garden looking up at Vianna’s balcony, torn between visiting her and ignoring her.

  He was about to head back to the schoolroom when he felt a jab in his ribs. He spun around, his fists clenched, ready to confront Felix.

  The voice in the dark was familiar but wasn’t Felix’s. ‘I wouldn’t count on your beating me, Mungo. I’m pretty adept at doing my disappearing act.’

  William Eden stood with his arms folded across his chest, looking up at him with a smug smile that Mungo wanted to wipe off his face.

  ‘How much prison time would I get for slugging a ghost?’ Mungo asked.

  ‘Calm down, I’m on your side. I’m here for one purpose only. I’m surprised you haven’t worked that out yet.’

  ‘All right, I give up. Why are you shadowing me?’

  Will looked up at the Juliet balcony. ‘My last sight in this world was the face of an angel, her voice telling me she’d never forget me. I want to see right done by the lass. Make sure that a decent man takes care of her. It doesn’t matter a tinker’s damn to me if that man is Felix or you.’

  Mungo was riled. He hated the idea of Felix being Vianna’s saviour – but neither did he want the role himself.

  ‘I should warn you we are being observed, Mungo. Felix is pretending to track the stars but he’s watching you like a hawk.’

  Mungo spun around. The eye of the telescope was trained in his direction, so he jerked his thumb in the gesture he knew would shock Felix. Felix returned the gesture.

  Mungo turned his back on him. ‘Can Felix see you, Will?’

  ‘Sadly you’re the only one who has that privilege, Mungo. But it comes with responsibilities. I’d like you to thank Kentigern L’Estrange for paying my mother a pension. Some might say it’s the least he could do. But many men would not have bothered.’

  ‘You being out of sight, out of mind, so to speak.’

  ‘Exactly. So I appreciate your ability to see me.’

  ‘Don’t take it as a compliment. Bloody Logan also drops in on me uninvited.’

  ‘I know.’ Will gave a resigned sigh. ‘I’m afraid you haven’t seen the last of him. Can you blame him? It’s lonely being invisible. But that’s out of my domain. My sole concern is what you and Felix intend to do about Fanny.’

  ‘You tell me!’

  ‘Can’t. You both have free will, Mungo. All you need is courage to act on it.’

  ‘No one can accuse me of twiddling my thumbs! I jumped through hoops to help that girl. Wanted to marry her. She betrayed me. Lied to me.’

  ‘And of course you’ve never been guilty of lying, have you?’ Will teased.

  Mungo had had enough. ‘It’s been a rough day. No offence, Will. But why don’t you piss off and leave me to get on with my life?’

  ‘No sooner said than done, mate. But I’ll be back.’

  There was a rustle of wind – and Will was gone.

  Vianna appeared on her balcony and called softly to him. ‘What’s wrong, Mungo? I heard you arguing with someone.’

  ‘Nothing. Just talking to myself.’

  ‘Have you been drinking?’

  ‘No, but I’d like to. Is that an offer?’

  ‘I have something to tell you. I really don’t want to wake the whole neighbourhood.’ She turned away and closed the door behind her.

  Mungo looked around the empty garden. ‘Thanks a lot, Will. Would you please stop manipulating my life?’

  No answer. But he was relieved that the decision had been made for him as he climbed the ladder to the loft.

  Mungo tried not to weaken at the sight of her, wrapped in a Japanese kimono bought second-hand at the market, Vianna looked sweet and young, far from the courtesan Severin had created. Her hair hung to her waist, plaited in two long braids like a Dutch doll. Dark shadows under her eyes and the pallor of her face confirmed her long hours of study. Despite himself Mungo felt moved by how vulnerable she looked – until she opened her mouth.

  ‘I could do with a whisky, Mungo, could you?’

  ‘Jesus, where’d you get that bottle?’

  ‘Your mother, of course. She said I should offer you a drink after you’d done a hard day’s work and spent hours studying with me.’

  ‘I guess I wouldn’t say no to a grog,’ he said graciously.

  They drank in silence. Mungo’s eyes were drawn to her feet, slender and pale as marble, peeping out from beneath the hem of the kimono. It was safer to look at her feet than into her eyes, which were so blue, innocent and trusting he almost believed he saw a trace of the old Fanny Byron.

  ‘I wanted to tell you myself, Mungo, before somebody else did.’

  ‘Yeah?’ He didn’t want to know what was coming.

  ‘Felix is going to buy a horse for his father’s birthday. He asked me to accompany him to the saleyards to help him choose it.’

  ‘Naturally. You being such an expert on horseflesh,’ Mungo said, annoyed that his intended light remark sounded sarcastic.

  ‘The only horse that has ever interested me is Boadicea,’ she said gently. ‘But I told Felix I would go with him if I could take Molly along as chaperone. The girl is growing up fast and needs confidence to mix in society. I’ve sort of taken her under my wing.’

  ‘So she told me.’

  ‘Molly is mature for her age, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.’

  Mungo put his empty glass down. ‘Sorry about my cheap shot. The fact is I’m jealous.’ He hastily corrected himself, ‘Because Felix can afford a handsome present for Father and mine will look like a pauper’s gift in comparison.’

  ‘Don’t you realise you’ve already given your father the best possible gift? You’ve turned your life around. He’s very proud of your work. Felix told me you picked up the fact that the bank was trying to fleece him.’

  Damned Felix keeps jumping back into the conversation.

  He watched Vianna cross the room barefoot and return to offer him a plate.

  ‘Your mother said this is your favourite cake. I made it myself under her supervision. You can be frank. I’ve never cooked anything in my life.’

  Mungo ate obediently and the honey sweetened his mood. ‘Good. Very good. Go straight to the top of the class.’

  Her smile bedazzled him. He spoke without thinking. ‘I’ve been invited to Father’s birthday dinner. But I reckon I won’t go. Mother can’t be in the same room as Mrs Less so of course she can’t be present even as a servant.’

  But no doubt Mam will be in Father’s bed that night.

  ‘Jane told me she wants you to attend. You have as much right as Felix.’

  ‘Want to tag along with me?’ He tried to sound casual, expecting rejection, then realising with a jolt that he had not asked anyone’s permission to invite her.

  ‘Thank you, but no. That would certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons. I don’t want to be the cause of any more bad blood between you and Felix.’

  ‘What’s one more fight? We’ve been at war since we were in swaddling clothes. Our mothers, God bless ’em, keep throwing fuel on the fire to keep it burning.’

  ‘Felix really admires you, Mungo. He would give his eye teeth to be more like you. And I suspect you envy him for his good qualities.’

  ‘Just say, you were offered a million quid to decide between Felix and me? Which one of us would you choose?’

  ‘I think the two of you combined would make the perfect man.’

  ‘Spoken like a true –’ Mungo quickly switched his intended word to ‘diplomat’.

  ‘Don’t you mean, like a true courtesan?’ she said softly. ‘I’m never going to escape that label, am I, Mungo? I know how Mary Magdalene must have felt. A girl can easily become a fallen woman – but once she does, her fall lasts for eternity.’

  His pulse racing, Mungo’s voice rose on a note of challenge. ‘That all depends on how much she rejects her old life. From what I’ve seen you’d leap at the chance to live in luxury again.’ He
eyed her intently. ‘You would, wouldn’t you? The truth!’

  ‘I’d prefer to have money than be poor, yes! Now let’s hear the truth from you, Mungo,’ she snapped. ‘You’d be happy to live in this loft with a wife who gave you a new babe every year. That’s what you want from a woman, isn’t it!’

  ‘A wife who wants kids, sure. But I won’t raise them in poverty, you can count on that. I’ll make my fortune by hook or by crook. Is it too much to ask a woman to stick by me – not flash her petticoats at any bloke who has more money than I do?’

  The silence was suddenly irrevocable. Mungo was appalled by his words, that seemed to hang suspended in the air between them.

  Vianna rose and inclined her head with a cool dignity that shamed him.

  ‘Thank you, Mungo. The truth is unpalatable but it’s no more than I deserve. Please leave now. I have several more hours of study before bed. When I leave in a few weeks I intend to repay you every penny I have cost you.’

  ‘I won’t hear of it. Look, Vianna, I didn’t mean – I lost my temper.’

  ‘No, you spoke the truth. It’s too late for me to change. I’ll always be a courtesan at heart – or a whore, call me what you will. But from now on I will live life on my terms. Unlike Severin, I pay my debts. How I earn my money is my business.’

  She gestured imperiously to the ladder. Mungo had no choice but to leave her.

  He paused at the top of the ladder. ‘When Felix takes you to the horse sales, get him to choose a black stallion, preferably the same Arabian bloodline as Boadicea. Father chose her for me. So I know he admires that breed.’

  At her silent nod of assent, he added, ‘I want you to know that I’m not going to give up until I find Daisy. I placed an advertisement in a newspaper. It was out on sale today. I’ll read it to you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said coolly, ‘that won’t be necessary. I have a copy right here.’

  Vianna picked up the newspaper on which she had circled a paragraph on the front page amongst the columns of small advertisements. She read slowly but clearly, with a note of pride. ‘Missing Person. Gentleman seeks to trace six-year-old Daisy Byron, who Came Free to the Colony per City of Edinburgh, 1827. All information treated in strictest confidence. One hundred guineas reward –’