* * *
Robert Langley stood on the verandah of the house and surveyed the scene before him. The rain had been welcome though it was too late to spur any major growth in the grass. He looked up at the surrounding hills and all that he could see was Langley Park. One day it would all be his.
The incident with his sister had been regrettable. He was supposed to bring her back home, but when she went over the cliff he saw it as a benefit he could not deny himself. Lillian knew all about his illegal rum sales, and his stealing of stock from the property. He sold the stock so that he could indulge in his worldly pleasures in Hobart. The money his father allowed him wasn’t enough to pay for the good times he desired. It would have been only a matter of time before Lillian revealed to Father his greedy ambitions.
Throughout Robert’s life Lillian had always managed to up-stage him. She had been far better at school. She could even ride a horse and shoot straighter than he could. Lillian had a knack for conversation on any level. She was comfortable with the aborigines and she was equally at ease with the high society people. She was the apple of her mother’s eye. Robert never received any praise from his mother, or for that matter, from his father either. It was always Lillian they doted on. But that had changed when she became pregnant to the sea captain, and now that she had fallen to her death over the cliff, his prospects were looking far brighter.
He noticed three riders coming down the hill and as they came closer he could see the blue uniform. Robert called out to one of the maids in the kitchen, “Go to the barn and tell Frank to disappear for a while.”
As they rode down the hill Jim could see the elegant white, two-storey building amid a grove of stately white gum trees on the flat. It looked typically English, with its circular driveway and wide stone steps leading to the verandah. Off to the right he saw a large barn with a stockyard. Several horses were in the yard. Billowing black smoke came from a chimney in a small building on the side of the barn. That would be the blacksmith’s shop. Further over behind the barn was another large building, this would have to be the shearing shed thought Jim, noticing the flocks of sheep in the nearby paddocks. Constable Harrison slowed his pace as they approached the entrance to the property. They rode under a large wooden sign with the words Langley Park chiseled deeply into the wood. Jim could see a man standing on the verandah watching their approach.
Constable Harrison saw the man too. “That’s Robert Langley, Arthur Langley’s son.”
“I’ve heard of him,” replied Jim.
“And a lot of it no good I would imagine,” replied Constable Harrison.
Jim Hawkins watched the young man dressed in dark trousers, black vest and a clean white shirt step down from the verandah and onto the grey, stone steps to meet them. He stood about five-eight, was rather skinny, and had dark stiff-looking hair brushed to one side. His eyes were as black as coal, and his thick bushy moustache matched his eyes and hair. He had a small mouth and nose, the same as the young woman on the stage. But that was where the likeness disappeared. While the woman’s face had been kind and gentle, the thin face of Robert Langley looked unkind and cruel. Jim decided there and then that he didn’t like this young man.
“Constable Harrison, this is an unexpected pleasure,” said Robert as he stood with his thumbs hooked into the side of his vest.
“Is your father in?”
“Yes, he is in the study.”
“Could you announce to him that I and Mr Hawkins are here to see him?”
“Certainly, sir, you can tether your horses at the barn,” said Robert as he glanced at Jim Hawkins, and then shifted his eyes away quickly as he felt the harsh stare of the man.
Jim wondered if he could have been the younger of the two men who had stopped the coach, he looked the right size. He cast his eyes around the farm as he climbed off his horse. It seemed awfully quiet. He handed the reins of the horse to Billy, as did Constable Harrison. They walked up the stairs and waited on the verandah until Robert returned.
“Father will see you in the study, but I would ask that you take your boots off.”
“Of course,” replied Constable Harrison as he proceeded to remove his muddy boots, Jim did the same. They both saw the tiny smirk on Robert Langley’s face. He was enjoying this small moment of superiority over them. The actions and the slow, deliberate speech of the man confirmed Jim’s suspicions. He was one of the men who had held up the stage.
The polished floor boards felt slippery beneath Jim’s thick-woolen socks as he followed Constable Harrison and Robert Langley along the wide passage. Jim noticed the varnished wooden rails on the stairwell with red-carpeted steps leading up to the rooms on the next floor, and the paintings on the walls. He stopped suddenly, and stared at one of the paintings. It was of a young woman, and it was the same young woman who had been on the stage.
“Jim,” said the Constable Harrison as he stood in the doorway looking back at him.
“It’s her, sir,” said Jim as he turned away from the painting.
Constable Harrison took off his blue cap and entered the room, followed by Jim, who also removed his hat. Jim suddenly had a distinct feeling of discomfort as he noticed the man and woman in the study dressed in fine clothes, while he stood there in his grubby attire.
A short-portly man dressed in a light-brown suit stood with his back to the open fire. He had a bald head, and sported a thick-black beard interspersed with flecks of grey reflecting his age. He was probably in his mid fifties. A woman around ten years younger sat in one of the green velvet covered chairs facing the fire. She was a thin woman, with fine facial features and soft brown hair which was piled neatly on her head. She was dressed in a pale yellow dress.
Arthur Langley stepped forward and shook Constable Harrison’s hand rather vigorously. “Constable Harrison, it is good to see you again.”
“It’s been a while Mr Langley. This is Mr Hawkins, the stage coach driver.”
He shook Jim’s hand with a little less vigor. He gave him a curt nod and then returned his attention to Constable Harrison. His manner mirrored that of his son. It reminded Jim of home, where the English gentlemen strutted about with stiffness in their gait and looked down on people like him.
“You have met my son Robert, and this is my wife Matilda.”
Matilda offered what looked like a strained smile and then turned her attention back to the knitting that was sitting in her lap. Constable Harrison noticed a faint glint of anger in Arthur Langley’s eyes as he looked at his wife, obviously, all was not well between husband and wife.
“Well, Mr Harrison what can we do for you?” asked Arthur Langley, turning to face him with a somewhat forced smile on his face.
“Is your daughter Lillian here?”
“No, she left for Hobart on the stage on Wednesday.”
Constable Harrison hesitated for a moment. He hated this part of his work. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. The stage was waylaid on Wednesday evening by two men. They took the young woman from the coach, she was the only passenger. We believe that the young woman in question was your daughter.”
Jim saw that Matilda Langley had stopped knitting, and the smile on Arthur’s face had disappeared. Robert stood emotionless, and quite still in the background.
“The painting of a young woman in the passage, is that your daughter?” Jim asked.
There was an eerie silence as the five of them stood together in the room, no one spoke and none of the Langley’s would look Constable Harrison in the eye. Mrs Langley was the first to speak, with a tremor in her voice.
“Yes, that is my daughter.”
“Mr Hawkins here has already confirmed that the woman in the painting was the woman who was on the stage.”
Arthur took a step closer towards Constable Harrison, a look of concern on his face. “Where is my daughter, Constable Harrison?”
“Mr Hawkins here reported the incident as soon as he arrived in Gladstone. He seemed to think it was a family matter,”
said Constable Harrison as he cast a quick glance towards the younger Langley, who had said nothing until now.
“What made him think that?” asked Robert.
“The girl knew them,” said Hawkins, trying to control his anger towards Robert Langley.
“Please, Mr Hawkins,” said Constable Harrison. “Leave the talking to me.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Jim as he fingered the rim of his hat that he still held in his hands.
“The next morning I, along with Mr Hawkins here and Billy returned to the scene. Billy confirmed that there were indeed two men and a woman’s tracks beside the road. It seems the woman fled from the men and ran into the bush. She accidentally fell over the cliff.”
“Oh my God!” said Arthur, sitting down into one of the chairs and looking across at his wife, who was just staring into space with a blank expression on her face.
“She survived the fall but was badly injured. Billy followed her trail to the river and then we lost her.” Constable Harrison paused for a moment as Arthur Langley buried his pudgy face in his hands. “There is a chance she could still be alive.”
Arthur removed his hands and peered up at the Constable. “Are you still searching?”
“Billy has spoken to the aborigines in the area if anyone can find her, they will.”
“What of the men who held up the stage?”
“I was hoping that you could help me there, Mr Langley.”
“If I can, Constable Harrison, I surely will.”
“One of the men was young, around your son’s age. The other man was about forty. He was a big man with a red beard and an Irish accent.”
Constable Harrison noticed the shift in Arthur Langley’s eyes as he momentarily looked across at his son. He stood up and looked at Constable Harrison.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know anybody matching those descriptions.”
The Constable looked down at Mrs Langley, her eyes were closed, and she was rocking backwards and forwards in the chair.
“If you happen to come across anyone matching those descriptions, I would be pleased if you could let me know, Mr Langley?”
“I most certainly will.”
“I will keep you informed of any news of your daughter.”
“Thank you, Constable Harrison.”
“We had better be off. Mr Hawkins here has a stage to take back to Gladstone.”
“I will see you out,” said Arthur Langley.
“Goodbye, Mrs Langley,” said Constable Harrison. She opened her tear stained eyes and just stared at him and then looked away at nothing in particular.
As the Constable and the men rode off Arthur returned to the study, strode up to his son with fury in his eyes and gave him a back-handed swipe that sent him reeling to the floor.
Robert picked himself up from the floor and wiped his bleeding lips.
“I was just trying to bring her back home, when she ran off and went over the cliff!”
“Why didn’t you look for her?” asked Arthur as he felt the urge to strike his son again for his stupidity.
“It was getting dark and we didn’t think that she could have survived the fall.”
“Tell O’Connor that he’s fired. I don’t want to see his miserable face around here again. Now get out of my sight, you are a despicable piece of trash.”
Arthur Langley watched his son storm from the room. Then he turned to his wife.
Hawkins' Grove Page 5