by JH Fletcher
Precisely where she was now, which didn’t seem a bad prospect to Alex.
But there was no persuading Mrs Target, who considered herself responsible for them, so next week back to school they went, and to an atmosphere like splintered glass.
Which continued until near the end of the term, when Brenda came back.
CHAPTER 34
It had been a day of intermittent heavy showers, the skies rumbling with thunder. Now, in the west, the setting sun painted the clouds a livid and menacing yellow. An ominous day, well suited to discussions intended to settle the future of a dynasty.
At Eagle on the Hill, in the drawing room, elegant but cold, that overlooked the river, the members of the Grenville family were gathered: George and his wife Jane, Rufus and his wife Mary. With them was the man who, although not involved in any decisions, nevertheless was vitally concerned in the matter: the tutor whom the family knew as Monsieur William. Not present was Martin Grenville, George’s eleven-year-old grandson. It was his future they were here to discuss, but George Grenville had little patience even with the views of Martin’s father and certainly had no interest in the opinions of a child.
George sat upright in an easy chair — his spine, like the rest of him, incapable of relaxation — and tapped his fingers impatiently on the chair’s arm as his wife fixed Monsieur William with her falcon glare.
‘You are surely not suggesting my grandson should work as a piano player?’
‘He has a remarkable talent, my lady.’ Monsieur William was a smarmy article and called Jane Grenville my lady because he knew she liked it. Yet he was a tutor, too, with definite concerns for Martin, whom he knew to be an exceptional boy, and was prepared to stand up even to this most autocratic of dragons on his pupil’s behalf. ‘It would be a great loss to himself and the world if his talent were not fully developed,’ he told her.
‘The idea is absurd.’ The notion of a Glastonbury playing a piano in public was distasteful beyond measure. ‘My grandson as a public performer? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.’
‘But if he truly has a great talent …’ her daughter-in-law began. ‘Surely if Monsieur William is right we should encourage him.’ She was wary of her mother-in-law, but where her son’s future was concerned she was willing to stand up to her. ‘All his life Martin has been devoted to the piano. As you know, his ability is astonishing —’
‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said Jane. ‘A piano player? It is unthinkable.’
‘You also play the piano, Mother,’ said Rufus. ‘Perhaps he gets it from you.’ Not that he thought much of the idea, either. The arts were uncharted territory, and Martin’s prime role, surely, would be to run the family empire when the time came.
‘Talent is one thing,’ decreed Jane, who was willing to claim any talent that was going. ‘But to perform in public would be unthinkable.’
It was absurd that this teacher fellow should even have been consulted. But she had listened and had now formed her opinion. She sat as stiff as sticks, Queen Victoria without a sceptre — although she had always held reservations about the German upstarts who now occupied the throne. ‘Let us hear no more of it,’ she said.
‘I had hoped Martin would grow up to help me in the business,’ Rufus said.
Or at least do a lion’s share of the work.
‘It won’t do, you see.’ George had been sitting so still that they had almost overlooked him. Yet no-one could overlook George Grenville for long; he held the moneybags and was not about to let anyone forget it. ‘You’d see it a mile away, if you’d open your eyes. The boy has even less talent for business than you do.’
One in the eye for Rufus.
‘But to be a public performer!’ Jane protested.
‘Plenty of time to worry about that. He may not be good enough. None of us knows. But I agree with Mary; give the boy the chance to show us what he’s made of.’
George had no interest in music, but it was a fresh world to conquer and that interested him very much. The pre-eminence of the Grenville clan was his passion and the family’s destiny. How they achieved it was unimportant.
‘But who will take over the business after me,’ asked Rufus, ‘if you think he has no talent for it?’
‘I’m not dead yet.’ George smiled maliciously. ‘You want my advice, you and Mary should do something about it while you’re still young enough.’
‘Of course my opinion counts for nothing,’ Jane said.
George gave her a glint of steel. ‘You know how important your opinion is to me.’ But it’s my decision, as in all things, and don’t you forget it.
‘How would we arrange it, then?’ wondered Rufus. Like the rest of them, he knew nothing about piano players or careers in music.
George looked at the tutor. ‘Advise us, Monsieur William.’
‘There is only one course of action. Regency College in Adelaide provides an excellent general education but enables pupils with particular skills to specialise in them. If Martin is as talented as I believe, they will advise you about further studies later. There is a music college in Sydney. Admission is by competition and very difficult, but I believe he has the talent. Afterwards, it may be best for him to go overseas. To London or Germany, perhaps. The college will advise, once they know how good he is.’
‘We are not interested in failure.’ This was George’s creed.
‘I am sure there is little danger of that, but there is always doubt,’ Monsieur William said apologetically. ‘It is the nature of art. But in my opinion, for what it’s worth, Martin does have the talent.’
‘Overseas, you say? Are you serious?’ More and more Jane Grenville was sure the world was mad. London was one thing, but Germany …
‘It may be best, my lady. The college will advise.’
George looked at his daughter-in-law. ‘He’s your son. What do you think?’
Anyone unfamiliar with the family might have thought her opinion mattered, but Mary knew how things worked in the Grenville clan. Her family was one of the oldest in the colony, with substantial land holdings across New South Wales. Her marriage to Rufus had been a dynastic arrangement, as in her class of society such things usually were. She had no delusions about her husband, but she was a survivor.
George was the decision maker and it was as well to keep in with him.
‘We shall all be happy to follow your advice, father-in-law.’
‘Rufus?’
‘I agree with Mary.’
‘Jane?’
‘I have told you what I think. Of course you will do as you wish.’ A camel could not have looked more haughty, but she was right and they all knew it. Born to command she might be, but in this, as in so much of her life, she was doomed to disappointment.
‘That’s decided, then.’ George nodded to the tutor. ‘You’d best arrange it. The sooner the better.’
Only when Monsieur William had left the room did George unburden himself further.
‘It’s not what I’d have chosen for him, but as long as he makes a go of it, I daresay it doesn’t much matter. As for the business …’ He turned to Mary and Rufus, beaming genially, but — as always — with a blade behind the smile. ‘Better get on with it, eh?’
‘Do we have to obey your father even in this?’ Mary whispered furiously.
‘It makes sense. In any case, I love you very much.’
As afterthoughts went it could have been worse, but not by much. While Rufus busied himself, Mary stared up at the ceiling and tried to think pleasing thoughts.
Things had gone better than she’d dared hope. Despite the predictable opposition of his grandmother, Martin was to have the career he desired above all else. Of course it would be a solitary life, but that couldn’t be helped. It was a pity he had so few friends; that worried her sometimes. There seemed no suitable boys for him to meet. There was the child who’d rescued him from the river. A girl, unfortunately, but he’d talked about her for weeks afterwards. He still did, from time to time. I
t was a pity she hadn’t met the child. What was her name, again?
Rufus was panting, his movements becoming convulsive. There was one thing about her husband: his twice-a-month demands on her — a husband’s right, as he was prone to remind her — never took long.
Mary’s thoughts were far away as Rufus spasmed.
Mrs Trask would know the girl’s name, and how to get hold of her.
‘Was that good for you?’ Rufus asked. Always he sought reassurance.
‘Wonderful. As ever.’
She put as much effort into her smile as Rufus had into the eager ploughing of her flesh. ‘A’ for effort, she’d give him that.
Martin had set his heart on going away to school. By rights he should have been delighted by the news that Monsieur William brought him, yet he was not as excited as he — or Monsieur William — had expected.
‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ his tutor said.
So he was, but with reservations. He was scared of the world, big and menacing, and of having to compete against others, as though music were a game of cricket with winners and losers, instead of the world of glory and wonder that he knew it to be.
And there was another reason for doubt. He would never forget what had happened a year ago when, looking for adventure, he had stolen the rowing boat and ended up by falling so shamefully into the river. Or how he had looked up and seen an unknown girl leaning over the side of the paddle steamer he was clinging to. She had called out to him, telling him what to do. He hadn’t been able to follow her instructions, but she’d rescued him anyway.
He had known — still knew — nothing about girls. Monsieur William was his only window to the outside world. The girl came from that world. He had thought — still thought — she was wonderful. She had saved his life, after all. But there had been more to it than that. He had laid before her his tribute of music, his most precious possession. Before he met her, his thoughts and dreams had been focused exclusively upon it, but she had changed that. He dreamed of music still but also of the girl and her life of freedom. Alexandra Armstrong … His memory of her was his constant companion. He’d like to have her for a friend but didn’t see how it would be possible. In any case, if they sent him away to this Regency College, it would be a long time before he saw her again.
‘Of course I’m pleased, monsieur. Why shouldn’t I be?’
CHAPTER 35
Luke and Alex were petrified of what their father would have to say to them. They watched him from the corners of their eyes.
That evening Mrs Target came aboard. Charlie and Sarah took her into the saloon and shut the door. The children spied through the window and saw her talking with their stern-faced parents but could make out nothing of what was being said.
‘He’ll whip us,’ Luke whispered. ‘Till we bleed!’
Alex feared Luke might be right. Charlie had never done it yet, but there was always a first time and the enormity of their sins overwhelmed her.
‘I’ll hide behind the paddlebox.’ But that was no answer; she couldn’t stay behind the paddlebox for the rest of her life.
So they waited, while the trees kept watch on them from across the river and the voices of urchins busy with their fishing lines came from the wharf, and eventually Mrs Target emerged from the saloon and went ashore.
Then they were more scared than ever.
The saloon door opened and Charlie came out. He looked at them in turn and Alex quailed to the tips of her toes.
‘You two come with me,’ he said, and headed towards the wharf.
‘Where we goin’?’ Luke asked.
‘For a walk.’
Charlie stepped ashore without waiting, leaving them to catch up. He paced deliberately along the wharf while they trotted behind. Charlie did not speak and Alex’s stomach was jumping like a kangaroo. When he reached the end of the wharf Charlie stopped and looked down at the water.
‘You’ve bin havin’ trouble at school, I hear.’
‘Miss Tossall banned us.’
‘I’m not surprised. Alex cheekin’ her and Luke punchin’ …’ He turned to stare at each of them in turn. By his look, he might have been measuring them for the gallows. ‘Who d’you think you are? Coupla Ned Kellys? How could you behave so badly? Shamin’ us …’
Alex waited for Luke to say something, but he didn’t, so she chimed in herself. ‘That’s not fair!’
Charlie’s eyes were sterner than ever. ‘You sayin’ Luke didn’ hit her?’
Now Luke found his voice. ‘She was pullin’ Alex’s ear.’
‘Yankin’ it near off!’ Alex added her two-pennyworth.
‘And why was Miss Tossall doing it?’
‘She wanted me to tell the class ’bout livin’ on a riverboat.’
‘And what’s so bad about that?’
‘It was the way she said it! All sneery, as though we were bad people.’
‘She called us savages,’ Luke said.
‘Is that any reason to prove she’s right? I’ll speak to your teacher myself. But I want you to apologise to her too.’
‘We didn’ do anything!’ Alex was indignant. ‘Miss Tossall said we were dirty and I said we weren’t. Then she pulled my ear and Luke stopped her. That’s what you told us to do.’
Charlie eyes went round with surprise. ‘I told you?’
Alex’s sense of injustice spilt over. ‘Always stand up for your family and each other, that’s what you said. And that’s what we did! If Luke hadn’t stopped her she’d have pulled my ear right off! He was my knight in shining armour and now you say it’s our fault! It was what you told us to do!’
She saw Charlie’s expression and would have swallowed her tongue, but it was too late. Now he would be sure to whip her.
But he did not. He looked at them both, but differently this time. Again he sighed, while, to Alex’s surprise, a smile tugged one side of his mouth. ‘I’m not sure I’m the right person to tell you to be obedient to authority.’
‘To be what?’
‘Never mind. We’ll have tea now. Then I’ll walk over to the schoolhouse and have a word with this Miss Tossall of yours. Tomorrow I expect you to say you’re sorry. After that, we’ll see. But apologies first. All right?’
‘Why should we?’ Luke pouted. ‘It was her fault.’
‘Because she’s a grown-up and you’re children. And because whatever has to be said to Miss Tossall I shall say. Is that clear?’
The stern look was back. No mucking about: they both read the signs. ‘Yes, Dad.’
So next morning they told Miss Tossall they were sorry. She nodded but was subdued and seemed unable to meet their eyes.
The last two weeks of the term passed with no more trouble. When it was time for the long holidays they went home, first to Brenda and then to the empty reaches of the river. Which was their true home neither could have said but, whichever it was, they were back.
When the children boarded Brenda Alex found some exciting news waiting for her. She had received an invitation to go and play with Martin Grenville in the new year.
She made a big performance of not wanting to go — ‘Why should I want to do that?’ — because she was afraid people might realise how much she did want it.
She’d seen the big house so often from Brenda’s deck. She’d always wondered what it would be like to live in such a palace, to live such a life. She’d even dreamt about it once, and the dream had come true when she’d fished Martin Grenville out of the Murray.
What she knew of boys had taught her that they resented being helped out of a jam by a girl, so she wouldn’t have been surprised if Martin had hated her for it, but apparently he didn’t.
Her mother said the note had arrived two days earlier. Alex looked at it; her fingertips explored it; she even sniffed it when no-one was looking. There was an echo of something scented about the paper, which was heavy and a delicate mauve in colour, with the name of the estate in blue printed across the top. Such a grand name. Eagle on the Hill
. She’d seen it times without number; she’d been inside once, as a visitor; now, for the first time, she would be there as a guest. A guest was much more important than a visitor. Anyone could visit but only the elite were guests.
She looked around Brenda’s saloon, at the scratched furniture where Tibby Slippers had got at it over the years, the patch on the ceiling where the waterproofing had failed in a storm, the general shabbiness that was inevitable when people had to live in a small space where the emphasis was more on work than luxury.
Eagle on the Hill, she thought. She wished her own family could live like that.
1892
CHAPTER 36
‘I have plans for Charlie Armstrong,’ Rufus Grenville told his wife.
At first, when she had informed him she’d sent a letter inviting Armstrong’s daughter to visit, he had been furious. Granted, the child was supposed to have saved Martin from the river, but Rufus had always suspected the tale had improved greatly in the telling. He was sure that Martin would have managed perfectly well by himself, if necessary. And he had not forgotten the way Armstrong had rejected the money he had offered him for what little his brat had done. Such arrogance from a riverboat captain to a landowner was inexcusable. So this notion Mary had of permitting the daughter free run of Eagle on the Hill had at first seemed to him utterly ill-advised.
Yet now he’d had second thoughts. Perhaps it might be possible to turn Mary’s foolishness to his advantage.
He had always seen Charlie Armstrong as a threat. He was the only man he knew who had stood up to his father and got away with it. He’d forced his way into the house with that rowdy brother of his, had even — if his father’s version of events were to be believed — threatened to burn the building about their ears. Hardly the sort of man you’d want to encourage.
Yet he was also a man whose energy and initiative might be exploited, if he could be brought over to the Grenville side. Guineas wouldn’t buy him, that was obvious, but perhaps the child might prove to be his Achilles heel.