The Currency Lass

by Téa Cooper

  ‘I wish you were right. Bartholomew has set the date. Is having the banns called.’

  Perhaps there was a solution. The words flew out of his mouth before they’d even formed in his mind. ‘Come with us to the goldfields. Take Valentina’s place until she returns.’

  ‘Yes.’ The single word sprang from her lips with such force she couldn’t have contained it even if she’d tried. It hung there in the warm afternoon air, the answer to all her problems.

  A wicked grin slashed Sergey’s bronzed face and he swept her up into his arms, spinning her around as though she weighed no more than goose down. She felt as light as goose down. The crushing pressure of the last few weeks floated away in the breeze and she laughed aloud. ‘Yes.’

  Such a strange sensation, as if pins were pricking the inside of her skin. She could escape Bartholomew and his preposterous marriage proposal, step away from the situation Pa had set in motion in his laudanum-induced panic, and return femme sole to take up the role Pa had always intended.

  The enormity of her decision left her speechless. She could save Cottington and all the tenants. Not only that, she’d save herself from a loveless marriage. De Silva would think she’d lost her mind, some female condition brought on by mourning, but Archie wouldn’t. Archie would understand. He’d come to the colony in the early days with Pa, convicts the pair of them, forced to serve a sentence for horse theft because they rescued an animal too injured to race. Marriage to Bartholomew would be a sentence, not a mere seven years, a life sentence.

  She’d tell Archie, no one else. De Silva would have to be made to believe she was returning to Sydney to prepare her trousseau. He’d be thrilled she’d agreed to marry Bartholomew. He’d continue to manage the property with Archie’s help while she was away, the same as always.

  Just a few months. Then when she turned twenty-one she’d return and inherit Cottington Hill as femme sole. They couldn’t force her to do anything once she was twenty-one. Even if Bartholomew had a sudden change of heart and came searching for her there’d be nothing he could do. She’d simply have gone. Archie would keep her secret. ‘Will Rudi agree?’

  ‘Of course.’

  And if he didn’t Sergey would change his mind. After all, the circus was as much his as Rudi’s, without him Rudi would have no circus.

  ‘He’ll be happy that he can put on the best show. But what about this man, Bartholomew, won’t he come for you?’

  ‘His man, Gatenby, might but I won’t be here.’ Happiness swelled in her chest. ‘No one will believe I’ve run away with the circus. Catherine Cottingham simply wouldn’t do something like that.’ Of course it was just the kind of thing that Catherine would like to do, just nothing De Silva or Bartholomew would expect from her.

  Don’t do anything rash. De Silva’s words skittered in the air like a dragonfly and vanished into the deep blue sky.

  ‘We’ll go and speak to Rudi. Are you certain you want to do this?’ Sergey threaded her arm through his.

  ‘Absolutely certain.’

  He whistled and both Tsar and Bessie pricked up their ears and ambled over. ‘In that case, let’s go and find Rudi and tell him he has another act.’

  When they reached Rudi’s tent he lifted his head from his hands and scowled. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I think we should leave for the goldfields as soon as possible.’

  ‘You want to do what?’ Rudi narrowed his eyes and peered at Sergey, his fingers drumming on the kangaroo-skin map. ‘What about Valentina?’

  ‘We’ve covered this already. We leave messages in Maitland. It will be impossible to miss her when she arrives, and they’ll tell her where we’ve gone. She’s in no danger with Dan and Hawke, and with no wagons to slow them down they’ll catch up with us.’

  ‘And if they don’t turn up?’ Rudi thumped the table. ‘I’ve got a half-arsed show with one equestrian, a melodramatic juggler and a handful of acrobats.’

  ‘Two equestrians.’

  ‘That horse of yours counts better than you do.’

  ‘Catherine is more than capable of filling in for Valentina.’

  ‘Catherine! She can’t replace Valentina.’

  No, she couldn’t replace Valentina, no one could replace New South Wales’s first equestrienne but she could give a better performance than Minnie or May. Of that she was certain.

  ‘Catherine can stand in for Valentina until she returns. Do you want to get to the goldfields or do you want to waste another week, maybe more, hanging around here losing money?’

  ‘I want to go.’ Rudi huffed out a sound more like a petulant child than a grown man. ‘Is she good enough?’ His gaze rolled over her from the top of her head to the bottom of her scuffed boots, sending a flurry of heat up and over the neck of her shirt.

  ‘Catherine’s more than good enough. Far better than Minnie and May will ever be.’

  ‘Do you want to do this?’ Rudi searched her face.

  The blush spread to her cheeks and she nodded, biting her lip.

  ‘What will they say?’ Rudi flicked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the house. ‘Think we’ve kidnapped their blue-blooded princess. I don’t want any trouble.’

  Sergey shot her a look.

  ‘There’ll be no trouble. I shall tell them I’m going.’ A white lie, she’d tell Archie, no one else. ‘I’m no blue blood. My Pa came here at his majesty’s pleasure, a convict, many years ago. It makes me a currency lass, nothing more, nothing less, the first generation born in this land to convict parents. I’m proud of Pa. He was an emancipist who worked and fought for his place in this land.’

  ‘Now he’s gone, how will they manage without you?’

  ‘Until I turn twenty-one the trustee and Archie are running Cottington Hill. That’s one of the reasons I want to go with you. To make the time pass quicker. There’s nothing for me to do here until then, I’d just be in the way.’ There was more than a grain of truth in that statement. Stick to the truth as far as possible. She had a bundle of lies to tell so she’d only tamper with the truth when she absolutely had to. ‘I’d very much like this opportunity, and Sergey thinks Bessie and I would make a good addition to the show. We’ve been practising.’

  ‘Is that what they call it these days.’ Rudi rocked back in his chair and eased his leg straight.

  Sergey shot Rudi a look that could have frozen the Hunter River in mid-summer. ‘Come outside and we’ll show you what we’ve come up with.’

  ‘Boy.’ Rudi huffed again. ‘You’ll never learn, will you? Rudi’s circus. Rudi knows what’s going on. And for the record she’s a bloody good rider, that currency lass of yours.’ He grinned then, his eyes sparkling, bathing her in praise.

  Archie would be thrilled too. He hadn’t stopped talking about Sergey and his horsemanship since he’d sneaked off to check out the circus.

  ‘I’m not taking you unless everyone’s happy. If they are I’ll pay you the same percentage the others, weekly. Not much, better than nothing. The same rules and regulations apply to you as everyone else. No special treatment. Now you go home and see what they say.’

  The question of money had never entered her mind. A huge smile spread across her face. ‘I’ll do that.’ She rammed her hat back on her head. ‘I’ll send Archie down to tell you my answer.’

  ‘When Valentina returns it’s her decision whether you stay or go.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ She felt a wicked curl of excitement uncoil in the pit of her stomach. ‘I need to be back here for my birthday on September the seventh.’ Not a day earlier. When Valentina did turn up she’d have to make sure she was happy because it would ruin everything if she didn’t stay away until her birthday.

  ‘Then I guess we’ll hit the road tomorrow. Day after?’ Sergey couldn’t stop smiling and neither could she.

  ‘Day after. We’ll spend tomorrow packing up and leave at first light. See the lass home.’

  Sergey left her at the gate and she unsaddled Bessie, filled up the water t
rough and released the horse to graze in the small paddock next to the stables. Archie didn’t seem to be anywhere.

  When she reached the house the delicious smell of baking scones greeted her, making her mouth water. This was the first time she’d been hungry in weeks. She found Mrs Duffen in the kitchen up to her elbows in flour.

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Out riding, clearing my head, thinking.’ She picked up a hot scone and broke it in half.

  ‘I’ll make a cuppa to go with that. You’ve lost weight. No one wants a scrawny bride.’

  No one was going to get one. Mrs Duffen had given her the perfect opening to put her plan into action. ‘I’ve decided I should accept Bartholomew’s invitation and return to Sydney.’ Lie told. With a gesture that owed more to her childhood than anything else she crossed her fingers behind her back.

  Mrs Duffen dusted her hands and shot her a shrewd look. ‘Sit down. Kettle’s boiled.’

  Catherine dragged her hair back from her face and sank into the chair. She’d known all along she wouldn’t get away with the charade too easily.

  ‘What made you change your mind?’

  Drawing in a deep breath she dropped her head into her hands, perhaps if Mrs Duffen couldn’t see her face she might carry it off. ‘It’s what Pa wanted.’

  ‘True, but that’s not what made you change your mind.’

  ‘No. I’ve decided it’s time to grow up.’ Well, that was true enough. She looked up and pinned Mrs Duffen with a stare. ‘When I’m in Sydney I’ll ask Bartholomew to postpone the wedding while I’m in mourning.’

  ‘Mourning? Doesn’t look much like it to me. Galloping around the countryside, hanging around down by the river with the circus folk.’

  ‘That’s one of the reasons I need to go to Sydney. If I stay here I’ll constantly be drawn away. I need time to reflect.’

  Mrs Duffen gave the teapot its mandatory three turns. ‘Why can’t you do that here?’

  ‘I need to see Mr Bartholomew, apologise for leaving Sydney without even acknowledging his efforts on my behalf. I’ll tell him I can’t entertain the thought of any arrangements until a suitable mourning period is over.’

  ‘It does sound as though you’ve come to your senses. Shame you couldn’t have told Mr Gatenby that when he was here. Save a lot of to-ing and fro-ing.’

  ‘I made a mistake. I must make amends.’

  ‘That’s my girl. Now drink up your tea. Where are you going to stay? Not in that hotel on your own.’

  Her mind went into a flat spin. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Pa’s physician, Doctor Manning. When we were in town we called at his house. His wife said if ever I was in Sydney I was more than welcome.’ Mrs Manning had been talking about afternoon tea but Mrs Duffen didn’t need to know the details.

  ‘In that case I better sort out some clothes. Can’t have you letting the side down. Mind you, nothing frivolous, you’re still in mourning.’

  ‘There’s no need. I left most of my clothes in Sydney when I brought Pa home. Bartholomew arranged mourning clothes from one of the shops in King Street.’ Catherine downed the cup of tea. Problem solved. Now she had some breathing space. She’d write to De Silva before she left, get Archie to deliver the letter. Bartholomew would have to be kept in the dark.

  ‘I need to check on Bessie and have a word with Archie. After that I’ll put some flowers on Pa’s grave and then I need to rest.’ She forced a yawn and placed her hands on the table, eased herself to her feet then headed for the stables, unable to restrain the jaunty skip creeping into her step.

  ‘Archie, I need your help.’

  ‘What are you up to? I’ve seen that look on your face before and it spells trouble.’ The brush swept down Bessie’s coat making it gleam in the sun. ‘Come on, better out than in. Let’s have it.’

  If Archie objected then her whole plan would be shot to ribbons. ‘I’m not going to marry Bartholomew.’

  ‘Don’t think I can help much there. He won’t be asking my opinion or permission. You’ll have to tell him yourself.’

  ‘That’s exactly it. I’m not going to tell him, not yet, nor Mr De Silva or Mrs Duffen.’

  He turned and put the brush down with exaggerated care. ‘Think we better go and sit down somewhere. Somewhere quiet.’

  ‘Tack room?’

  He grunted and led the way.

  The tack room was where she’d learnt more lessons than any other spot on the property. Where Archie had listened to her dreams, her plans and her hopes. Listened to her complaints and miseries too. Soothed her when Ma died and again when everything the physicians recommended failed to cure Pa. He’d dispensed his own brand of wisdom with all the patience and caring in the world.

  Sitting in her favourite spot, up on the bench with her legs swinging, Catherine let out a long slow breath. She had to get this right. ‘If I marry Bartholomew all my possessions become his.’

  ‘That’s what usually happens in a marriage.’

  ‘Bartholomew wants to live in Sydney, he has no interest in Cottington Hill. He’ll sell the property.’

  Archie looked up and pinned her with a narrow-eyed stare. ‘Sell it? He can’t do that. We’ve all worked long and hard, years and years. It’s not what Mr Cottingham had in mind. Not at all. He flogged his guts out for this place.’

  Perhaps this was going to be easier than she thought. ‘Until I am twenty-one Mr De Silva is the trustee. He will take care of the accounts.’

  ‘Nothing new about that, he’s been doing it ever since Mr Cottingham slowed down.’ Archie scratched his head. ‘Do you want to marry this Bartholomew bloke? Seemed like a snooty kind of a fellow when he was here. And the horses jacked up. He wanted to use your Pa’s buggy, too.’

  ‘Oh God, Archie. No. I don’t want to marry him. It was some scheme Pa dreamed up because he wanted to see me, and Cottington, safe. I just don’t understand why he didn’t trust me to make my own decision.’

  ‘Then don’t marry him. You can run the place, bit of help from me and De Silva, same as it’s been since your Pa got sick.’

  ‘That’s what I want to happen.’

  ‘That’s easy then.’ Archie stood up and dusted his hands. ‘Tell the man no.’

  ‘That’s where the problem arises. There’s this letter Pa wrote to De Silva asking him to make sure the marriage went ahead. Now Bartholomew has set the date. I think Pa panicked because of the money he borrowed.’

  ‘What money? Don’t know about that.’

  ‘Pa borrowed money a few years back, when he bought up the additional land.’

  ‘Ah, I remember, during the forties, in the depression, and I suppose he wanted the loan paid off and thought this Bartholomew chap would do it when you married.’

  ‘That’s about the sum of it.’

  ‘Your Pa probably thought it would be the best for the property, ’cept he didn’t reckon on Bartholomew selling the place. What a bloody mess.’

  Catherine nodded. ‘I might have a solution.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Mr De Silva says that once I turn twenty-one, providing I’m not married, I can inherit Cottington as femme sole.’

  ‘Fam what?’

  ‘It means as a single woman, in my own right.’

  ‘Then you don’t have to take no notice of this bit of paper your Pa signed saying he wanted you to marry Bartholomew.’

  ‘De Silva says it’s just a letter with Pa’s wishes. Trouble is, Bartholomew’s set the date and he’s pushing for us to get married in a few weeks.’

  ‘Don’t see what your problem is, just stay out of his way.’

  ‘That is exactly what I intend to do, but I need your help. If I’m here Bartholomew will force me to marry him. De Silva’s all in favour, and Mrs Duffen. I’m going to go with the circus. They’ve asked me to ride in the show, with Bessie.’

  Archie’s back straightened and a look of pride flashed across his weathered face. ‘They did, did they? I must’ve done something
right then. You’re the best rider they’ll find and Bessie’s as good as those horses of theirs, no matter where she was bred.’

  ‘I need you to take a message down to the camp and tell them everyone has agreed the change would be good for me.’

  ‘Is your heart set on it?’

  Oh yes, her heart and her mind, her very life. She wouldn’t give away all that Pa had fought for. ‘On Wednesday morning we’ll go, at first light. I’ll ride Bessie and you follow with the buggy as though I’m going to Morpeth for the early steamer. I’ll leave you and go to the camp. I want you to ride straight to Maitland and deliver a letter to Mr De Silva telling him I’ve studied the accounts and I’m returning to Sydney to discuss the matter with Bartholomew. It’ll be early so slip it under his door, then go onto Morpeth so the buggy will be seen on the road.’

  ‘I’ll tell ’em Bessie’s gone early for mating. When will you be back?’

  ‘On my birthday, the seventh of September.’

  ‘You better be, otherwise I’ll come looking.’

  Twelve

  Two days later Catherine let herself out of the house into the crisp winter morning and ran across to the stables. Archie had the buggy hitched and Bessie saddled, and Catherine’s bags and bedroll neatly strapped.

  ‘Now you take right good care of yourself and don’t worry about a thing here. What you’re doing is for the best. Don’t you worry about De Silva and Mrs Duffen, neither. I’ll sort them out. Here, take this.’ He pushed a rough pouch into her hands.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Money. Can’t go anywhere without money.’

  ‘I’m going to the goldfields. I won’t need money and I’ll be with the circus. I’ll be earning my share of the profits.’ All the talk about money made her uncomfortable. Since Pa had died everything revolved around the wretched stuff. Pa always said talking about it was vulgar. Not as vulgar as finding out you’d been sold to the highest bidder, like a prized cow.

  ‘You’ll take the money and you’ll do what you’re told, otherwise I’ll not be agreeing to this.’