Not much else to do now except wait for everything to cook. The delicious aroma wafting around the kitchen reminded her of how early and scanty breakfast had been. A nice cup of tea would go down well.
She jumped and nearly dropped the kettle on hearing an urgent knocking on the door. When she went to answer it Michael stood on the verandah, one booted foot resting on the step. He wore cord breeches, his usual shiny, long black boots and a white silk shirt.
“What are you doing here?” she asked belligerently.
His eyes flicked over her. “You’re looking much better now, not so drawn and pale. Are you going to invite me inside?”
“I suppose so,” she muttered grudgingly, stepping back to allow him entry. Their bodies accidentally brushing together sent hot color racing to her cheeks. “Would you like some tea? I’m about to make some?”
“Thank you.” His voice sounded over-polite, stilted. He watched in silence as she prepared their tea. Only when it was ready, and she was seated, did he sit down.
“I wanted to come over and see if you had recovered. I loathe myself when I think of what you went through in my house. Can you forgive me, Melanie?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You weren’t to blame. You were away most of the time. Anyway, I could have complained when you returned, but I didn’t want to give Priscilla the satisfaction of seeing me cowered.”
“Priscilla can be vindictive. She’s used to getting her own way. You have to understand how it is for someone of her upbringing.”
“Oh, I understand. She’s gentry. I was merely a servant and never allowed to forget my place.”
An angry hiss escaped him. “You don’t make it easy, do you?”
“She wanted me to cringe and grovel, beg for mercy. I tell you this, she could have flogged me half to death and I still wouldn’t have apologized. Why should I? All the things I said about Ogilvy were true.”
“You know I wouldn’t invite a man like him into my house. He came with one of the other guests. No one was more surprised than me when he arrived, but I could hardly ask him to leave.”
“I would have.”
He laughed. “I know you would. Still friends?” His hand covered hers on the table, and he ran the flat of his thumb slowly across her knuckles. She snatched her hand away.
“Have one of my biscuits.” She shoved the plate at him.
“No thank you. I saw Alex at the claim, he told me you were here. I don’t want you staying on the gold fields. Come back to Guilford Lodge with me.”
“What as?”
His lips tightened. “My guest, of course.”
“Would Lady Priscilla welcome me?”
“I’m master of Guilford Lodge. You will be my guest, Priscilla will welcome you, have no fear.” I’ll make sure she does, he inwardly fumed. If he didn’t need Priscilla’s money so badly he would never have agreed to marry her in the first place. His voracious spending habits and gambling had emptied the Guilford coffers. He was left with only two choices, cut back on his spending, something he had no intention of doing, or take a wealthy bride.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m staying with Uncle Alex.”
“I want you off the goldfields.”
“You can’t order me around.” She glared at him and a pulse convulsed in his jaw.
“Please, Melanie, leave the diggings. If you can’t bring yourself to stay with me, I’ll send one of the maids over here to stay until James returns. He had no right leaving you alone.”
“Why not? We have to get money somehow. Not everyone is born rich like you. Besides, he thought I would be safely installed at Guilford Lodge, remember?”
Guilt reddened his face. “Please, I’m begging you. Leave the diggings now.” He hesitated. “There’s been talk of open rebellion. A few hot-heads are whipping up trouble and the situation is at boiling point. The commissioner won’t hesitate to call in the soldiers if he has to.”
“The miners have formed a Reform League, they’re sick of being persecuted all the time.”
“You’ve been listening to young Pritchard. I don’t condone those license hunts or the brutality, but some kind of discipline has to be maintained, otherwise the authorities would lose control. It could lead to civil war.”
“You don’t understand. You’re rich. When did you have to struggle to find enough to eat? Those gold commissioners are the same. What would they know of being cold or hungry?”
“You may have a point.”
“I do have a point. Those miners have right on their side. If it comes to a battle, I’ll help them,” she cried recklessly. “You hear me, Michael Guilford. If I have to stand and fight beside them to get justice from rich, despotic tyrants like you, I will.”
He swung to his feet and without a backward glance stormed out of the homestead. She ran after him. “Michael! Come back.” What had made her say such dreadful things? He had always been a generous friend, never flaunting his wealth in front of them. By the time she reached the verandah step he had mounted his horse and was galloping away.
The bread and pies were cooked by late afternoon. She brought the washing in, then hung two calico bags containing their food on either side of the saddle, made sure the fire was extinguished, locked the homestead and rode away.
***
Melanie’s days settled into a routine. She did all the cooking and cleaning while the two men worked their claim.
When Uncle Alex picked up several small nuggets, all within an hour Robbie become enthusiastic enough to spend even more time digging. The dirt flew from his shovel as he wielded it with vigor. She felt pleased for Uncle Alex’s sake because the find would stake him for a time.
She moved around getting to know some of the other women, but undertones of anxiety permeated the diggings, as if everyone knew a showdown was inevitable.
Chapter Five
On the 29th November 1854, Melanie attended a meeting at Bakery Hill along with thousands of miners. Feelings ran high because three of their number had been arrested on trumped up charges a few days earlier. The angry diggers lit fires and burned their licenses in an act of defiance.
It was frightening, but strangely, exciting. Standing well back, she nevertheless, made sure she could hear and see everything. She yelled and cheered when the miners passed a resolution refusing to buy any more licenses. They also vowed to protect any member of the Reform League who got into trouble with the police.
Robbie was a member, but Uncle Alex stubbornly refused to have anything to do with it. Later on in the day, a full-scale bitter argument erupted between father and son.
“Why don’t you join us?” Robbie exploded. “You can’t expect any help from the others if you aren’t a member of the Reform League.”
“I’m not joining anything. I’m an old man who only wants to be left in peace.”
“You stubborn old fool,” he railed. “We have to stand united if we’re going to get anywhere with the authorities.”
“He’s right, Uncle Alex, the miners have to be united.” Melanie tried to cajole him. “It’s a just cause.”
“I’m not interested. I’m warning you, boy. Don’t get Melanie involved.”
“Come on.” She dragged an enraged Robbie out of the tent.
Outside Robbie paced up and down. “He’s a stupid old bastard,” he ranted.
“Don’t talk about your father like that.”
“He isn’t really my father.”
“What!” she grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “How can you say such a foul thing?” Dropping her hands she stepped back a pace.
“It’s true. My real father got killed before I was born, and Alex married my mother.”
“I can’t believe it. No wonder you don’t look anything alike. Does James know?”
He shrugged. “Probably.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she accused, hurt beyond belief that he couldn’t trust her with something so important.
“I wanted to, but I didn’t
have the right. Now I’ve lost my temper and blurted it out anyway. My mother told me before she died, but begged me never to bring it up unless he did.” He stroked Melanie’s cheek. “Please, swear you won’t say anything.”
“You have my solemn promise.” She crossed her heart. “I suppose he’ll tell you one day when he feels the time is right.”
He kicked viciously at a stone. “I shouldn’t have attacked him like I did but he makes me so angry. I’d do anything for him, but can’t he see? We have to all stick together if we’re going to win this struggle.”
“I agree the Reform League is a good idea. I’ll help you anyway I can. You have to make allowances – your father’s old and set in his ways. Come on, let’s go back inside.”
The diggers now had their own flag called the Southern Cross. It measured twelve feet by eight feet, and consisted of a silver cross and stars set into a blue background. As it fluttered proudly from an eighty foot flagstaff at Bakery Hill, pride filled her heart.
The miners seemingly went about their normal business, but an air of tension hung over the goldfields. Nothing was said out loud, yet she felt it everywhere, whispered words and furtive looks. She glanced over her shoulder to check she wasn’t being followed. Fear and suspicion ran rampant.
***
Thursday morning, 30th November, 1854, was hot and sticky. Melanie’s stomach churned at the sheer brutality of the troopers as they carried out their latest license hunt.
Peter Lalor rushed up carrying a rifle. “Come on men, I’m asking for volunteers to take up arms and drive the troopers from the goldfields.”
Diggers swarmed in from everywhere, some armed with pistols, others with iron spikes, picks and shovels. In fact anything they could use as weapons.
Excitement surged through her as she watched several women marching two abreast like the men. Someone lowered the Southern Cross from the flagpole. Captain Ross held it aloft and became the diggers’ standard bearer.
With her arm linked through Robbie’s, she joined more than five hundred miners and swore an oath of allegiance.
James would be furious she had become mixed up with a public declaration of war, but she was not prepared to sit back and let others fight for a just cause. Robbie’s grip on her arm tightened and dread warred with bravado.
***
The diggers started building a fence around their tents at the Eureka Lead on Friday 1st December, 1854. It was heavy work for Melanie who wasn’t used to manual labor. Dragging saplings the men had cut down was back breaking, but lugging buckets of dirt from the trenches they dug, exhausted her.
“My hands will never look presentable again,” she complained to Robbie as she picked up another bucket he had filled with dirt.
“You don’t have to do this, Mel.”
“I want to help.”
He leaned across and kissed her and she returned his caress. He was dusty and smelt sweaty. She shuddered, knowing that she probably smelt the same way.
By the next day, more than a thousand men had moved into the stockade. They attended a packed meeting held in Diamond’s store. People stood shoulder to shoulder with barely room to move. Finally, after much discussion, they decided to send a deputation to the police, demanding the immediate release of all diggers who had been dragged off to jail for not having their licenses. The commissioner would also be asked to pledge that there would be no more license hunts.
Melanie accompanied Robbie and some of the others to present the petition. On reaching the bridge she let out a shocked breath. Their way was barred by heavily armed police. What was wrong with the authorities? Deliberately escalating the crisis. After heated discussions, a Catholic priest eventually entered the headquarters to present the miners’ claims.
The stifling heat caused perspiration to run down her spine and between her breasts. “I’ll have to go back. I’m starting to feel light headed.”
“Want me to come with you?” Robbie asked.
“No thanks, you stay here. I’ll have a wash and lie down for while.” She wasn’t used to feeling so filthy. James would be furious if he saw her now, but he would have to drag her off home by the scruff of the neck, because it was the only way he could make her leave the diggings.
Later, after Robbie returned to the tent and they had eaten, she walked to the stockade with him.
“Vinegar Hill,” he whispered the password before they gained entry.
Nervous excitement slithered all the way through her as she waited while he went off to find Peter Lalor. Inside, the stockade buzzed with activity. Men prepared for battle. A few had pistols or rifles, but their weapons would be pitifully inadequate against heavily armed police. Icy tentacles of fear spread out over her body until she shivered with dread.
Robbie returned after about ten minutes, breathless and agitated. “They say Sir Charles Hotham has sent up the army’s 12th and 40th regiments from Melbourne. I’ll escort you to our tent. I’m taking my rifle and spending the night inside the stockade.”
They trekked back to the tent with silence hanging over them like a funeral shroud. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his. His mouth captured hers in a passionate, fiery kiss that bordered on desperation.
“Be careful, my love,” she whispered fearfully when he stepped away to pick up his rifle.
“Don’t worry about me. I adore you, Melanie, always have and always will.” He disappeared into the night. With Robbie by her side being brave was easy, but now he had gone, fear and anxiety almost robbed her of breath. Dread spread its ugly tentacles over her chest, and squeezed the breath from her lungs. Something terrible was about to unfold and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.
***
On the night of the 2nd December it was eerie. Melanie watched numerous fires burning in the darkness, but those coming from inside the stockade only flickered every now and again through the cracks in the wooden barricades. No men stood around swapping yarns. No women gossiped with their neighbors. Everyone stayed close to their own tents, as if silently waiting for something to happen.
After a few hours of tossing and turning, she gave up trying to sleep. If she didn’t find out what was happening, she would go stark raving mad. Slipping into her clothes, she crept past Uncle Alex and made it outside without mishap. In the pre-dawn darkness she picked her way carefully towards the black looming shape of the stockade.
The fires had all burned down to beds of glowing embers. Suddenly she spied a party of police troopers and soldiers riding silently along the right of Warraneep Gully. Another party advanced to the left of the Eureka Line. Taken by surprise against these heavily armed soldiers, the diggers would be annihilated. There must have been a hundred mounted redcoats, probably twice as many foot soldiers and police. She trembled with fear and gritted her teeth trying to build up her courage.
Someone had to warn the diggers. There was no one but her. She sprinted the last few yards to the stockade, not caring now whether anyone saw her or not.
A bugle call shattered the stillness. She flattened herself against the outside walls. Yelling and shooting wildly, the redcoats charged forward. Shots rang out from within the stockade as the diggers fought back. Soldiers swarmed in from everywhere. Her ears rang from the noise of the guns. Worse still were the screams and cries of wounded men.
A man bent double and clutching his stomach staggered out of a broken down portion of the stockade. A redcoat set upon him, clubbing him with his rifle butt. Melanie grabbed a piece of wood, crept up behind the soldier and hit him on the head. As he dropped to the ground she heard the miner gasp, “God bless you, Miss,” before he crawled off into the darkness.
She had to get inside the stockade and find Robbie, but how? If the redcoats didn’t shoot her, the miners probably would. Everything had become chaotic. Think woman. Foolish heroics wouldn’t do her or Robbie any good now. “Oh, God. Help me.”
The battle raged fiercely for about twenty minutes. Sometimes volleys of shot
s rang out, but gradually the shooting eased off to spasmodic firing. A wall of flame shot upwards as troopers set fire to the tents.
Men converged from everywhere. Horrendous cries and screams rent the air. A digger raced outside the stockade, only to be run down and bayoneted to the ground by a soldier on horseback. Carnage. Utter carnage.
She dashed forward. It was a sickening scene, even in the pale dawn light. “Stop it,” she screamed. Too late, the man on the ground now lay still, all life snuffed out of him.
The soldier reached down to grab her. “You beast, let me go!” She kicked and screamed, frantically twisting and turning.
A bullet whistling through the air just missed him. The horse reared in fright, sending the soldier crashing to the ground.
“Melanie? Quick, help me.” Robbie swayed like a drunk. One of his arms hung uselessly at his side, the other held a pistol. “Help me. I’m a dead man if I’m caught.” He almost collapsed as he tried to mount the redcoat’s horse.
“Robbie!” She grabbed the pistol from his trembling hand and held it while he tried to mount. It took three attempts before he succeeded. The redcoat groggily climbed to his feet.
“You’re under military arrest,” he growled. “Both of you.”
“Stay where you are. I’ll shoot.” She pointed the pistol at him, grasping it with both hands so it wouldn’t waver.
“Can you ride, Robbie?” Stupid question, he slumped in the saddle like a loosely tied sack of spuds. “Get your foot out of the stirrups! Now!” Although dazed, he did as she ordered when she screamed at him a second time.
The redcoat lurched forward.
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot. I mean it. I know how to use this thing.” She threatened, loading her voice with menace.” What a lie. She had never discharged a gun in her whole life.
“You’ll regret this, Miss. It’s a serious crime aiding and abetting a criminal and assaulting an officer of Her Majesty’s forces.”
A Wicked Deception Page 8