The Currency Lass

by Téa Cooper

  ‘Yes. There’s a lot you need to know.’

  ‘Valentina!’ Sergey’s voice boomed out. ‘Stop!’

  Rudi’s sudden intake of breath sounded in her ears and she turned to him. His face was as red as Mrs Duffen’s tomato sauce. He pushed back his chair, knocking it to the ground, muttering something that sounded like the string of curses Archie used when things went wrong. ‘I want her out of here. The sooner the better, with that bloody disease-ridden woman and her brats too.’

  ‘Out of here?’ Catherine’s voice squeaked. What was he talking about? Tilly was in no fit state to leave. And she didn’t want to leave, not yet, not until her birthday or near about. Maybe Valentina didn’t want her to ride, that was fine, but not leave. Not yet.

  ‘Go!’ Rudi pointed a finger at the canvas tent flap.

  She stood, her knees weak with the effort. She had to talk to Sergey, alone. Only a few days ago he’d held her in his arms and told her he loved her. Now Rudi wanted her gone and Sergey hadn’t uttered a word in her defence.

  As she moved to leave the tent she had to sidestep Rudi’s bulk. He held out his arm, blocking her way. Her stomach twisted in panic. ‘Go!’ He lifted the canvas flap.

  ‘Sergey, please. I don’t understand.’

  ‘You heard what Rudi said.’

  ‘You want me to leave?’ She gently touched his shoulder.

  He reared away from her. ‘Don’t touch me.’

  Stung, Catherine stumbled out, hugging her riding habit tight against the biting wind. Sergey’s cold words were ringing in her ears. She shivered as she slipped into her tent.

  Tilly lifted her head and smiled. ‘He’s going to be a big lad. Always hungry like his father.’ She ran her hand over the down on the baby’s head. ‘Tomorrow I’ll be well enough to get up. I’m going to see if I can help with the cooking. Give the girls a break. They’ve helped me so much with Pete. Everyone’s so kind, especially Rudi, letting me stay.’

  Catherine chewed on her lip, loath to spoil Tilly’s pleasure. She took off her jacket and sat down on the edge of the pallet. ‘I’ve got your money here.’ She turned the jacket inside out and began unpicking Archie’s stitching.

  ‘That’s a good place to keep it. Why don’t you leave it there until I talk to Rudi and ask what I can do to help pay my way and how much I owe him. Then I’ll buy the kids some new boots. It’s getting so cold, I can smell snow in the air. They can’t keep running around with bare feet.’

  Catherine sighed, she had to tell her and tell her now. ‘Tilly, I’ve just been talking to Rudi and Sergey.’ She couldn’t repeat Rudi’s words, disease-ridden woman. Tilly was no more disease ridden than she was. ‘Princess Valentina’s back and Rudi doesn’t need me to ride for the circus anymore.’ Not the truth but what difference did that make? She’d told so many lies in the past months and she’d no idea why Rudi wanted her gone. ‘I’m going home. Would you like to come with me, and bring Becky and Jacky?’ Tilly might be better but not well enough to fend for herself and the children in the goldfields. If Rudi truly wanted them to leave they had no alternative but to return to Cottington.

  ‘And Baby Pete?’

  ‘Of course.’ Mrs Duffen would welcome Tilly with open arms and nurse her back to health, relishing the sound of children in the barren house.

  The question was how? Alone she could ride Bessie, maybe the road to Sydney would be faster than the meandering route the circus had taken, but Tilly and the children couldn’t manage a trip on horseback.

  ‘It will be a long journey, we can hire a wagon.’ Would that trip be long enough to spin out her return for another six weeks until her birthday? If she arrived home any earlier she’d still have Bartholomew and De Silva to contend with, and she’d have to eat humble pie and explain to Archie that her marvellous plan, her bid for freedom, lay in tatters at her feet.

  Whatever had possessed her to leave in the first place? Why hadn’t she stayed and fought for Cottington? All the lies and running away hadn’t helped. She was back where she started.

  ‘Catherine!’

  ‘Who’s that?’ Tilly covered Pete’s head with her shawl.

  ‘It sounds like Rudi. I’ll go and see what he wants.’ Maybe he’d changed his mind, perhaps Sergey had spoken to him and he’d come to say he’d reconsidered.

  Rudi stood with his back to the fire, leaning heavily on his cane, a sheepish looking Timmy stood alongside, shuffling from one foot to the other. ‘There’s a mail coach leaving for Bathurst in half an hour. I want you on it, and that woman and her brats.’ He held out a small leather pouch. ‘There’s enough money here for the fare, your share of the takings, then when you get to Bathurst pick up the Sydney mail coach. It’s the quickest way. After that you’re on your own.’

  ‘I don’t want your money.’ She pushed his hand aside and the pouch fell to the ground.

  ‘You earnt it, you take it. I’ll not be indebted to anyone.’

  ‘I don’t want it. I want to talk to Sergey.’ She had to talk to him.

  ‘He’s busy. The afternoon performance has just begun.’

  ‘But I can’t leave without …’

  ‘Timmy, make sure they’re all on that coach or you’ll be on the next one.’ Leaving the pouch on the ground Rudi stamped off.

  Eighteen

  The last thing Sergey wanted to do was front an audience and perform. Thoughts of Catherine blurred his concentration. He’d been duped, and not by an experienced fraudster like Waverley but by a girl. A chit of a girl who hadn’t even gained her majority. She had to know more than she was letting on.

  He pulled his shirt up over his head and threw it onto the floor of the tent, then stuffed his breeches into his boots and stumbled outside. The line for tickets stretched to the outer reaches of the camp. It was the biggest audience they’d seen, thanks to Valentina’s outrageous arrival yesterday and Dan and Hawke’s ballyhoo, no doubt.

  He patted his back pocket where he’d stuffed the dubloon and the ring to keep them safe until he found Waverley. It’d go a long way to proving the man’s involvement in the robbery. Was it enough to prove he’d committed the murder? What Sergey wouldn’t give to get his hands on the conniving scoundrel.

  ‘Timmy! Zac!’ Where the bloody hell were the grooms and where was Tsar? Could no one do anything they were meant to? He strode around behind the back of the tents. Tsar and Tsarina stood in the horse yard ready to go and Zac hovered around, fussing with Bessie. There was no sign of Timmy. A flash of blue caught his eye and Valentina drifted around the corner deep in conversation with Minnie. ‘Ready, Valentina?’

  She lifted her head and frowned at him. ‘Where’s Catherine?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Is she riding this afternoon?’

  ‘You’re the star attraction, isn’t that what you do?’ He threw his leg over Tsar’s back and yanked down hard on the reins as the arrogant animal danced against the fence. Even his bloody horse was causing problems. Since he’d told Valentina Catherine’s story she’d treated him with more than a dose of disdain, even quoted his remark to her about Batya. Damn her! Damn all women.

  Valentina mounted and Minnie arranged her skirt and cloak across Tsarina’s back, carrying on as though she deserved the ludicrous title Rudi had bestowed on her. Princess Valentina. What a load of bulldust. ‘Hurry up.’

  ‘Settle down, Sergey. I’ll only be a moment longer. You forget that until last night Tsarina and I haven’t performed for several weeks.’ She fidgeted, primped and preened. Why all the palaver? Catherine would be up in the saddle and ready to go.

  He wouldn’t, couldn’t think about her now. He wanted to get the show over and done with, then he’d take another look at the rest of the bits and pieces Valentina’s light fingers had snaffled. Make sure he’d got his facts straight. After that he’d confront Catherine calmly with the promissory notes, give her the opportunity to deny any involvement with Waverley. ‘Let’s go.’

  Minnie swung open the gate
and Valentina pranced out ahead of him, nose in the air. The remaining crowd parted with a sigh of adoration as they rode into the big tent.

  Not an empty seat, the audience was jam-packed, right to the very back where children perched atop shoulders. The band began its tuneless crescendo and he searched the group of waiting performers for Catherine. Dan and Hawke stood with their arms folded, like sentinels guarding the entry to the ring. All the girls tumbled around, Jymie threw plates through the air like a demented cook. But Catherine was nowhere to be seen. Hardly surprising really after the mouthful Rudi’d given her.

  Rudi strolled up and ran his hand down Tsarina’s neck and Valentina flashed him a wide smile. ‘Biggest audience we’ve had. Bigger than Sydney. Reckon we’ve cleared at least a hundred pounds tonight. After the show yesterday word must’ve got around that my princess is home where she belongs.’

  ‘I’ve missed you too, Rudi.’ She brought her fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss before prancing into the ring. The crowd erupted and Valentina did what she did best. Sat there soaking up the applause. As the band ceased its whining she began a slow walk around the ring. He’d seen it all hundreds of times before.

  Scanning the crowd he looked up to the cheapest seats. No sign of Becky or Jacky. No sign of Catherine. The two children followed her around like familiars, so if she wasn’t here then they wouldn’t be either.

  ‘Holy hell! Get in there.’ Rudi’s shout brought him to his senses and when his whip came down on Tsar’s rump he had no option but to enter the ring.

  By the time the show ended Sergey was jumping out of his skin. His muscles twitched, sweat had dried on his back, his head ached, he didn’t even feel as though he belonged in his own body.

  He slid from Tsar’s back and threw the reins to Timmy then strode across the camp to Rudi’s tent. The afternoon light illuminated the scene inside like some shadow play. Rudi sat with his legs outstretched, twirling a glass of rum in his fingers.

  Sergey slumped down on a stool and poured himself a large slug.

  ‘Help yourself. Be my guest.’

  ‘I need it.’

  ‘You don’t usually resort to liquor. Thought that was my domain. Now what’s your problem?”

  ‘Catherine.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Putting two and two together, Waverley’s done it again. Hoisted us, must have got wind of us in Sydney. I reckon she met up with him in Bathurst. That’s why she stayed overnight.’ Rudi took another sip and rocked back in the chair.

  ‘I need to talk to Catherine before she leaves.’ He couldn’t believe she’d duped him. Christ, he’d fallen in love with the wretched girl. Played right into Waverley’s hands. Catherine with her golden halo had shone like some bauble and he hadn’t been able to resist. No better than his light-fingered big sister.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing. I told you. I’m not taking any chances.’

  ‘She might lead us to Waverley.’

  ‘Or lead Waverley to us. There’s no point in you talking to her. You’re blinded by the lass. And I’ve got Valentina to consider.’

  Sergey downed a huge mouthful of rum. It caught in his throat, making him splutter. Blinded completely and utterly besotted, he’d been played for a fool. ‘I won’t involve Valentina. I’m going to have it out with Catherine. Get the whole story from her. Leave it to me.’

  ‘What makes you think she’d tell you? She’s too clever by half, that woman. Knew it the moment I saw her on a horse. Far too confident. They’d been planning it, planning it for a while. Waverley must have realised we were using the circus as a cover and tracked us to Sydney. The only mistake he made was Valentina. Couldn’t keep his grubby hands to himself.’ Rudi clenched his fist. ‘When I get my hands on him he’s not going to like it.’

  ‘That’s not going to solve anything. We need him in one piece and back in Van Diemen’s Land. I want Nikolas’s name cleared.’

  ‘Not going to do Nikolas much good.’

  ‘It’s a matter of honour, my family’s honour.’ Sergey knocked back the chair and stood. He couldn’t wait, didn’t care what Rudi wanted to do or for Valentina’s mindless babble. He had to see Catherine. Find out what had happened. She’d said right from the start that she didn’t want to marry Bartholomew. That she detested the man. Had she lied to him? He bent over and scooped up the promissory notes.

  ‘Leave them right where they are.’

  Sergey ignored him and pocketed the bloody forgeries before pushing out of the tent.

  The fire burnt brightly in the pit and he checked the faces sitting around it, searching for Catherine. No sign. She’d be with Tilly.

  He crossed to the other side of the camp, his fists clenched. If she and Waverley were in it together where was he? A man was supposed to look after the woman he loved, his wife-to-be, not send her to do his dirty work on her own. It was just what he’d expect from Waverley. He kicked at some loose stones and rounded the corner to Catherine’s tent.

  Darkness greeted him. She’d be resting after the ride to Bathurst and back, it was too much for a woman. Tilly and the two kids would be in there with her. How was he going to get her on her own?

  Crouching down he lifted the canvas flap.

  Silence.

  He edged towards the straw pallets.

  Empty.

  They’d gone and so had their bags.

  No one. Nothing.

  No Tilly, no kids and most importantly, no Catherine. Where would they go? To Waverley? Had they met in Bathurst? Why had she bothered to come back?

  He ran back to the fire. ‘Minnie, May, where’s Catherine?’

  ‘No idea,’ said May. ‘I haven’t seen her. I thought she must be sleeping, tired after the long ride.’

  So had he. Now he had other ideas. ‘Where’s Timmy?’

  ‘Where he always is, with Zac and the horses.’

  He bolted through the circle of tents to the horse yard and sure enough there were Timmy and Zac. And Bessie. His breath stopped for a second. Catherine wouldn’t leave without Bessie. She’d need Bessie to go anywhere in a hurry.

  ‘Where’s Catherine?’

  Timmy continued to brush Bessie’s coat, not lifting his head.

  ‘Timmy?’

  ‘Can’t have gone far if Bessie’s here,’ Timmy said, the strokes getting faster. ‘She loves this horse. Had it since she was a nipper, she told me.’

  The pounding in his ears settled. Timmy was right. Catherine wouldn’t leave Bessie, and Archie would flay her alive if anything happened to the animal.

  ‘Any idea where Tilly and the kids are?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You all right, Timmy?’

  ‘Fine. Just a bit tired after all the riding. Backwards and forwards to Bathurst. Rides like a man she does. Real hard and fast. She’ll be sleeping it off somewhere.’

  ‘Her tent’s empty,’ Sergey said. ‘No sign of her or Tilly and the kids. When did you last see them?’

  Timmy shrugged and busied himself with the feed buckets. When he turned around his face was beet red.

  Sergey took two strides across the yard and bent down until they were nose to nose. ‘Timmy?’

  ‘Don’t know nothing about it. Got a lot of work to do. I’m way behind.’

  ‘Right, so there’s something to know. Come on. Let’s have it.’

  ‘I don’t know nothing.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ Sergey grabbed the buckets from Timmy’s hands. He was hiding something; his eyes were darting around like fireflies. ‘Where are they?’ He shook Timmy’s shoulders, gave a flick of his wrists and sent him sprawling into the pile of steaming hay. ‘I need to know where they are.’

  ‘Not here.’ Timmy slapped his hand across his mouth and closed his eyes.

  ‘Tell me.’

  Timmy let out a long-suffering sigh. ‘Rudi told me to put them on the mail coach to Bathurst.’

  ‘Rudi told you?’

  ‘Yep. Said if I didn’t I’d be on the next one.’
<
br />   ‘You lily-livered little snot. Why didn’t you …’ He took three steps towards the fool, then dropped his clenched fists.

  Pathetic. Frightening the boy witless for something Rudi’d done.

  Timmy sank back into the hay and dropped his hands into his head. ‘I couldn’t help it. Rudi said I had to.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘This afternoon, while the show was on.’

  So they’d be in Bathurst already, maybe on their way to Sydney unless Waverley had other plans. ‘Are Tilly and the kids with her?’

  ‘And Pete. Said she was going home.’

  Where the hell was Waverley? Leaving her to fend for herself as usual, the man was an arse. ‘I suppose Catherine asked you to look after Bessie.’

  Timmy sniffed and dragged his nose along his sleeve. ‘Something like that. Said I could ride her if I did and then I was to try and get her back to Maitland once the circus left the goldfields.’ He foraged around in his pocket and brought out a scrappy piece of paper. ‘Said I was to contact him, Mr De Silva.’

  Sergey snatched at the paper. De Silva. The solicitor. The one who pushed her to marry Waverley. Probably up to his neck in it as well. There were too many bloody coincidences. Where the hell was Hal, Bartholomew, Waverley? How many names did the bloody man have? They were no closer to tracking him down than the day he disappeared from Hobart, the day Nikolas hung. ‘I’ll sort you out later.’ He threw the words over his shoulder and stormed across to Rudi’s tent.

  All he wanted to do was to go after her. Catherine would lead him to Waverley, bloody Bartholomew, he’d put money on it. How could he convince Rudi that the circus could do without him?

  Why the hell couldn’t it? Valentina was back, and Dan and Hawke. He’d take Tsar and if he’d missed Catherine in Bathurst he could be in Sydney in less time than it took the mail coach. He’d pass it on the road.

  ‘What the bloody hell do you think you were doing?’ He pushed into the tent to find Valentina crouched at Rudi’s feet pulling off his boot.