‘I am his errand boy.’ He laughed. He knew he was much more than that but it pleased him to pretend, needing to compensate because of feeling himself excluded from the relationship between his wife and the boy. There were times when intimacy between husband and wife was restored almost to how it had been before but Roger became concerned that he would always be a stranger to his son.
* * *
As soon as she felt herself able to do so Catherine went back to rid ing. The doctor was vocal in his disapproval.
‘I really must insist –’
She had developed a look that she used to quell those foolish enough to challenge her authority. She used it now. ‘You misunderstand the situation, Dr Hobbs. I employ you, not the other way round. You are not in a position to insist about anything.’
She was careful, all the same, and galloped only occasionally, when the restored strength of her body informed her that she might.
One day she observed a kangaroo bounding away through the bush and asked herself what happened when a kangaroo did not want to be a kangaroo any longer. What happened to a mother who no longer wished to be a mother? The answer was obvious. Nothing happened. Neither could do anything about it. All her life she had wanted freedom; now she began to wonder whether such a thing existed.
She employed a nursemaid and went back to work. Some felt she was wrong to do so but she did not care.
‘I do not intend to spend my life bringing up babies,’ she said.
Although she made a point of seeing Edmund whenever she could spare the time.
She arranged to have fertilised trout spawn shipped out from England, together with a consignment of salmon fingerlings.
‘Will they survive the journey?’ Mr Fitch wondered.
‘We shall find out, shall we not? In the meantime I want you to find a suitable site where we can establish our salmon ponds.’
‘And when the trout hatch?’
‘We shall release them into the wild.’
‘Mr Mortimer is agreeable?’
‘He is agreeable, Mr Fitch.’
Or would be when she told him about it.
The law said she owned nothing, that everything belonged to Roger, but he was not a man who would stand in her way, or seek to impose his will regardless of her wishes.
‘I am truly thankful for that,’ she said and wondered how Alicia was managing now her fortune was in Arthur’s hands. She wondered too how long it would take him to run through it and how her son Jasper would make out when it was gone, as she was sure it soon would be. Not that she had much time to care about either of them.
She kept a personal eye on the building of the fishing trawlers and supervised the construction of the packing shed and workshop on land that Roger had leased from the crown.
No wonder Edmund came a poor second to the other things in her life. She knew it too, and decided she must make it right. After all, she was doing all this at least in part for him, was she not? The day would come when he would inherit everything. It was her duty to make sure he was ready for that day. She knew it would be hard because he showed no interest in anything but broke his toys regularly, as though that was their purpose. They were his to destroy so he did so. Yet Catherine reflected that he was still very small, only three. No doubt he would come right as he grew older but their eyes were cold when they looked at each other and there was no real connection between them. So she gave up trying to grow close to the boy and resorted to doing things instead, requiring him to be involved even when he did not want to be.
It was in that spirit that she took him with her when she went to examine what was now her husband’s tin mine. The tram way had been operating for two years now and the miners’ houses had been completed eighteen months before. Catherine could barely recognise the site now with all the work that had been done. The mountain had been disfigured and the valley also, while the creek ran heavy with silt.
Trefor Griffiths took her around those areas he thought might interest a lady. She saw them patiently and politely, then asked to see all the areas he had not shown her.
‘It is not that I think you are trying to hide things from me,’ she said. ‘But now I am here I would like to see it all. One of the miners’ cottages too, if that can be arranged.’
She took Edmund everywhere with her but he was soon tired and kicked the loose stones with his boots and wished he was somewhere else and when the miners tried to make much of him he did not respond so that they soon gave up.
‘That is the last time I shall take you anywhere with me,’ Catherine told him when they got home.
She saw that he did not care.
SIXTY-ONE
It was the summer of 1868 and Catherine was planning to visit the salmon ponds that had been created under her supervision upriver from the small settlement of New Norfolk. The trout eggs had survived the journey four years before and the first fish had been successfully introduced the previous year into some of the lakes of the Central Plateau. The superintendent assured her that everything was going well so there was no real need for Catherine to visit the ponds as often as she did but she liked to keep an eye on things. It also provided an excuse for her to get out of the house from time to time and enough of the old Cat remained for her to welcome that.
The day before she left she received a note. It was delivered by a small child called Lou, the daughter of one of the servants at the Dunstables’ house, who had been promised a penny if she delivered it straight into the lady’s hand.
Catherine opened it and read it.
I am sorry to trouble you but am in considerable difficulties and should be grateful if you could spare the time to come and see me. Arthur will be from home on Wednesday morning so it would be a convenient time to call, if that is possible.
‘Thank you,’ Catherine said. ‘Please tell Mrs Dunstable I shall call on her at the time she suggests.’
She watched as the child ran away down the drive and thought how desperate Alicia Dunstable must be to send her such an appeal.
On Wednesday morning, on her way to the salmon ponds, she stopped at Austin’s Ferry. The tiny settlement was growing; there were two or three other houses that she did not remember from her previous visit. It was a strange feeling, remembering that time: it had been a different world. She remembered how dashing Mungo had looked after the raid as they rode triumphantly up the hill side by side and how he had climbed through her window later that night, but she told herself sternly that the events of those days no longer had any hold on her.
Alicia had lost weight; her eyes were anxious, her fingers like bones clenched tightly together. Catherine looked at her, keeping her feelings out of her face. She had not taken to Alicia Delamere who she thought deserved much of the misfortune that had befallen her but it was impossible to see her as she was now and not feel sorry for her.
‘How can I help you?’
Alicia explained, with many intervals for hand wringing. She said that Mr Switzer was very ill and losing strength by the day.
‘I am sorry to hear that,’ Catherine said politely. She had nothing against Mr Switzer, whom she barely knew, although he had been one of those who had attempted unsuccessfully to buy into the Mount Haggard mine.
If Mr Switzer were to die, which seemed increasingly likely, his wife had said she would return to England as quickly as she could.
‘She will be able to do that, you see, because Mr Switzer’s will names her as sole beneficiary.’
Catherine did not ask how Alicia had come by that information; she thought it might be better not to know.
The problem was, Alicia explained, that Arthur had run through her fortune – ‘every last penny, Mrs Mortimer’ – and they had since been living on the Switzers’ charity, a resource that Mrs Switzer had made plain would not be available to them after she left the colony.
‘My son and I will be destitute,’ Alicia exclaimed, with tears. ‘My poor boy will have nowhere to lay his head.’
‘I
am not sure how I can help you,’ Catherine said.
‘I have a male cousin in Melbourne,’ Alicia said. ‘He owns a block of land on the coast south of Hobart. He would be interested in selling it if a fair price could be obtained.’
‘How would that help you?’
‘He would hold the proceeds on my behalf. The land was mine, you see, but because of the marriage laws it was put in his name.’
‘Does your husband know about this land?’
‘No. And he must not.’ Alicia stretched out an appealing hand. ‘Please, Mrs Mortimer…’
‘You need not worry,’ Catherine said impatiently. ‘He is the last person I would inform about anything. But if you will tell me where the land is I shall arrange to have it inspected and advise you if I wish to make an offer for it.’
‘I hope you took proper care of yourself,’ Roger said when she got home. ‘Salmon behaving, I hope?’
‘Of course they are.’ She kissed him, glad to be home. She took her husband by both hands, smiling up at him, and her smile conveyed signals that he could not fail to see. ‘Have you missed me?’
‘Always.’
‘Well, I am back now. And Edmund? How is he?’
‘The same.’
Edmund was five, a sullen boy who guarded his thoughts. His parents did not understand him. He did not behave as other boys did. He had no friends. He didn’t climb trees. He did not collect birds’ eggs although there had been two occasions when Catherine had come across abandoned nests with all the eggs smashed. There had been a kitten but he had tormented it, so it had to be taken away from him. It was Mrs Tyson’s cat now and safe, because the cook would not allow Master Edmund into her kitchens after an unfortunate incident when dirty washing-up water had been poured over a salmon intended for His Excellency’s supper. There had also been an occasion when he had been caught trying to tear pages out of a prayer book.
‘I had better go and see him,’ Catherine said.
Edmund, when she found him in his room, greeted her with a sulky face.
‘Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?’ asked his mother.
He did because it was required but there was no warmth in it. ‘I don’t see the point.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of kissing.’
‘It shows how glad you are to see me home again.’
‘You’re here anyway,’ the boy said.
It was hopeless. Yet he was studious, reading a lot for a boy of his age, and Catherine still had hopes she would not willingly relinquish.
‘I believe you will end up a professor,’ she said.
Which was not a bad prospect, as such things went, but whether he would be the right person to take over the family businesses was another matter. He was of course still far too young for her to know.
Edmund took his meals in the nursery with his governess so Catherine and Roger were able to eat by themselves, which they preferred except on special occasions like Christmas. Tonight Catherine ate up her husband with ardent eyes. Earlier days were imprinted on her soul and she would never forget them but it was seven years since she had moved on and Mungo Jackson was no longer the overwhelming presence he had been once. He was back in Tasmania; she saw him from time to time at official functions but in all those years they had hardly spoken. She was aware that he remained unmarried, also that the spate of raids by the never-identified gang of bushrangers had ceased several years earlier, but these things apart she knew nothing of his affairs.
That night her body fulfilled the promise of her eyes. They still made love regularly and while these occasions lacked the fire she had once known they were sufficient and she was content.
That night, after it was over, they lay side by side and talked. Of affairs of state and of the various businesses, nominally his, that she ran. They were indeed more than businesses; they, and the people involved in them, had become her extended family, to whom she owed her allegiance.
A trawler had been lost in a storm; she supported the widows and children of the drowned men. The son of a miner at the Mount Haggard mine showed unusual promise; she set aside funds for his education. Tonight she was thinking of something else that in recent years had become dear to her heart.
‘Shall we married women ever get justice?’ she wondered.
It was a perennial complaint that married women could own neither income nor property, all of which were vested in their husbands, who were free to do as they wished with them.
‘There is talk of a change of law in England,’ Roger told her. ‘Until that happens there is no chance of anything happening here.’
‘It can’t happen soon enough for me,’ she said.
‘Are you afraid I shall sell off your businesses?’
Her hand found his. ‘Of course not. But don’t you see how demeaning it is?’
‘That we should be regarded as one person for legal purposes?’
‘You know I can’t argue legalities with you,’ she said crossly. ‘It’s wrong and that’s an end to it.’
‘Wilful resistance to the authority of your husband? I am shocked, Mrs Mortimer.’
‘Fiddlesticks,’ said Mrs Mortimer and was silent for a spell. ‘There is a patch of land I want us to buy,’ she said.
‘Another business?’ he said. ‘I was hoping you had enough. I declare at this rate you’ll end up owning the whole island.’
‘I own nothing,’ she said. ‘That is what I am complaining about. But in any case I don’t want the land for a business.’
‘What then?’
‘I want to build a house.’
‘We have a house.’
‘No we don’t. I love staying here, you know that was always my ambition from the beginning, but it is not ours.’
‘I don’t think Sir Harry has any plans to dismiss me.’
‘Of course not. But he might be transferred somewhere else. And there is no knowing whether his replacement would want to keep you on, is there? Don’t they usually bring their own staff? If we had our own place we would have somewhere to move to if you were ever replaced.’
Roger thought about it. ‘I suppose there is sense in that. Where did you have in mind?’
‘There is a patch of land on the other side of the Derwent. Five acres with views over the ocean. We could build a grand house there, if we wanted.’
‘On the other side of the Derwent?’ he echoed. ‘How would I get to work?’
‘We wouldn’t move there as long as you’ve got your present job. I was thinking of afterwards.’
‘When I will do what, exactly?’
‘I thought, seeing as how you own all these businesses, you might want to run them. I would be willing to give you a hand, if you asked me,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘To assist you, like.’
‘How do you know about this patch of land?’ he asked.
‘Somebody must have told me, I suppose. I forget,’ she said. ‘I declare, Roger, I am feeling very weary. I think I shall go to sleep now.’
Because she had no intention of telling him how she had come to hear.
Two days later Catherine and Roger went to inspect the land owned by Alicia Dunstable’s cousin. They both liked it. The following day, having found out his address, Roger Mortimer wrote to the cousin making an offer which was accepted. A month after that, after lengthy discussions with architects, engineers and builders, construction began of the house that on completion four months later was christened Cat’s Kingdom.
* * *
The ceremony to mark the completion of the great house took place in August 1868, a cold, shining winter day with the summit of Mount Wellington blanketed in snow.
The Governor and Lady Black attended in honour – as Sir Harry said in his speech – of his extremely competent aide Mr Roger Mortimer and Mr Mortimer’s wife, Catherine, unquestionably the most prominent and respected woman in the colony.
‘With the exception of my own dear wife, of course,’ he concluded waggishly. As was only right – but eve
ryone present was left in no doubt that Sir Harry Black had a soft spot for Catherine Mortimer too.
After the ceremony, at which shivering guests stood while a military band played ‘God Save the Queen’ and the Union flag on its mast blew bravely in a keen southerly wind, the visitors were escorted around the house. Everyone remarked on the building’s solid construction although not everyone was impressed by its position so close to a vertical cliff and its exposure to the gales that would be likely to savage the property at every season of the year.
‘Solidly built?’ said a lady, an acquaintance of the Talbots, who had either declined the invitation or not been invited. ‘It will need to be. I do not understand how any civilised person could tolerate such a location.’
‘Ah, but that is rather the point, isn’t it?’ whispered a friend. ‘She is very rich, of course, but as far as I know no one has ever accused Mrs Mortimer of being civilised.’
Secure in their superiority, both ladies tittered. However, their disdain did not prevent them helping themselves liberally from the generous quantities of food and drink provided by the owners of the new house.
For the moment Roger had no intention of moving in on a permanent basis as he still had his duties to perform at the Governor’s House but both he and Catherine knew that their new house had been built in the nick of time because Sir Harry was moving on at the end of the year and his successor, Colonel Sir Reginald Apsley-Smythe, had already indicated that he would be appointing his own personal staff.
‘From what I hear I wouldn’t want to work for him anyway,’ Roger said. ‘He has a name for being arrogant, intolerant and stupid. And those are the nicest things people say about him.’
‘Then we should think about moving before Sir Harry leaves,’ Catherine said.
‘Impossible, I’m afraid. I shall have to hold the fort after he goes. I shall be the administrator until the new boy arrives.’
‘Does that mean you will be the acting governor?’
The Governor's House Page 37