Captive Wife, The (26 page)

At sea, October 1834
    

From Kapiti we made sail for the Bay of Islands where Busby the British Resident waited on the report of Captain Lambert. Busby was rather sour and as full of God as ever. I have heard of this expedition he said in his prissy English way. It was taken without consulting me.

Good God man said Lambert. Did you expect us to ask your permission while a white woman and her children were at the mercy of savages? You are here to protect such unfortunate people.

I am here also said Busby to prevent outrages against the Maori people. I wd like an account of what has taken place Captain Lambert.

I have made a proclamation said Lambert. He handed over a copy.

Busby stood and looked at it. So you have made an example of Ngati Ruanui he said.

Yes said Lambert. You could say that.

You do realise sir said Busby that this is the first time armed warships have engaged against the New Zealanders. We have been at war with the Maoris.

Yes said Lambert and if the natives interfere with the King of England's subjects I wd do it again.

The
Harriet
crew and me and my wife and children were put ashore while the ship stocked up for the run to Sydney. My family and I stayed near the pa of a chief I had had dealings with in the past. We took a place near the beach in a hut with a plank roof. This was a come down after life on board the ship. Yet I was more than fed up with that. I had had enough of the soldiers and their airs and jokes that did not make me laugh. I liked well hearing rain on the roof above us in the night and the sound of land birds again. Our children slept in rough cribs beside us. John was the same as ever to me but my wife seemed troubled about taking him back as if he no longer belonged to her. I think he is a boy who likes the company of men.

I said to Betty I have put myself out on your account and I will have some good cheer from you. But she turned her head away, and did not favour me with a word.

Well then. 2 can play at that game.

I asked her. What did you get up to with that man.

Cambridge Street, the Rocks, March 1835
    

I do not know where my wife is. Jezebel. Nothing will please the woman. You are cold Jacky she says and there is tears everywhere. What am I to do.

She is full of grief said her mother Harriott Deaves with deep reproach. She has lost her daughter. She was your girl as well Jacky Guard.

I know that I said. I have tried to give her comfort.

Then her mother looked at Charlotte. I do not know what has passed between these 2.

Mostly I have not wanted to lay my poker in my wife since
we came back from New Zealand but neither does she fancy me. Months have passed and it has all got worse. The night we laid Louisa to rest I took her to me. She did not like it well. I said we best mend things but she acted like a hellcat. She has too much of her grandmother in her. I have heard a story or 2 about Granny Pugh that would curl a man's hair. Well it seems I have landed myself the same. But I cannot say I did not want her when I took her.

Now she is gone and I do not know where. It is said she took a ferry up the Parramatta some 4 days back and I will have to go cap in hand to get the baggage back.

Perhaps she will not come Charlotte said hopeful like. So now I have 2 problems on my hands, 1 likes me too well and the other not enough.

Betty has not spoken with me unless spoken to since we left the Bay of Islands. True I was hard on her. But I reckon it was what she deserved. All the same I think back often to that night and wish some things different.

15 March 1835
    

Dear Captain Guard

Your wife, Mrs Betty Guard, has been residing at my property this past week or so, keeping company with my sister Miss Adeline Malcolm. My sister is a kind-hearted woman who has befriended your wife in what I understand to be a time of great distress. They have spent many hours talking and comparing their fortunes, and it is pleasing to see a younger woman offering such respect to someone in middle years.

I have no complaint about such a
flowering
of friendship. Yet I must implore you to come and take your wife home where she belongs, for my establishment is sorely stretched by her presence. Our sons' nanny has had to rearrange her quarters in order to accommodate the visitors.

You would do me a great favour if you could come immediately, for others do not view the matter with the same sympathetic eyes. Indeed, my wife, a woman of normally strong
constitution, has been laid low by the situation, and it requires an early resolution. A Lieutenant Roddick has also intervened, for want of a better word, on behalf of my sister, who has been part of his establishment in Sydney for the past two years. The Lieutenant finds the presence of Mrs Guard very disturbing and fears that she may not be a good influence on the reputation of Miss Malcolm.

I would not wish you to think I have anything but the best opinion of Mrs Guard who, by all accounts, is a woman of great valour and virtue, but you know how things begin, and idle words lead to grief.

Sir, it is in the interests of everyone if your good lady were to leave as expeditiously as possible.

I am having this letter delivered by my man, in the carriage, who will be happy to bring you here to my residence, to collect your wife.

Yours faithfully

Perceval Malcolm

The dew is still settled on the dahlias when Gerald Roddick arrives at Malcolm Downs. The blue gums shift and settle their leaves and at last there is a breeze. Pink light shimmers near the eucalypts; some attribute this to reflections of light from the leaf tips while others say it's the essence of the gum tree itself. The carriageway, at this otherwise quiet hour, is almost crowded with the number of people making their way towards the farm.

Roddick is on horseback, accompanied by his brother-in-law Sebastian Stenson, who arrived from England on a visit, the week before. Stenson has made the journey to see whether he might persuade the lieutenant to leave Australia and take the Roddick children to England, now that he is nearing retirement.

‘I am sure it is what Emmeline would have wanted,' Stenson has said, with increasing firmness. He has not travelled well and it has taken him some days to recover. ‘She would have wanted them to grow up near her family, to know her aunts and uncles
and all her cousins.' Stenson has eight children, all thin and pale, as Roddick remembers them from his last visit to England. He sees no reason why anyone would want to know such a crawling nest of white mice. Sometimes he harbours the bleak thought that his son Austen is more of Stenson stock than his own, something he would prefer his uncle not to see.

But Stenson has reminded Roddick of a bitter truth. His wife did indeed express the wish, as she lay dying, that the children return to England, whereas he, Gerald, cannot imagine life beyond these shores.

All this has given a sense of urgency to his mission to retrieve Adie Malcolm. He needs to demonstrate to his brother-in-law that the children are well suited to their circumstances. And it has occurred to him that if he should turn up with this emissary from England, she will understand how serious the situation is, how imminent the departure of his children should she not return.

Sebastian is not pleased to be roused at five in the morning but Roddick says they must travel before the heat.

‘I'm puzzled as to why you're at such odds over a governess and a convict's wife. Are they worth it?' He has asked this more than once, for Roddick has been evasive over the details of his pursuit.

‘It's a matter of honour,' Roddick says for what seems like the tenth time.

They are overtaking a carriage carrying a single person, the servant who delivered a letter to Captain Guard the evening before. Guard declined his offer to accompany him.

When I fetch my wife, that is, if I do, I will not be driven there by a lackey. I will find my own way. The servant spent much of the night in the Currency Lass, before wending his way back to Parramatta.

And, as the two men put their horses to the gallop, they come across another carriage, in which three people are travelling. These are Jacky Guard himself, Ivy Kentish and her husband, Robert. Anyone observing this trio would notice that
the two men look strained and anxious, though the woman seems indifferent to all but the passing delights of the landscape.

Roddick reins in his horse for just the few moments it takes to register the identities of these travellers. Then he sets out at a hard gallop, with Stenson following more sedately, on his unfamiliar mount. They are the first to arrive at Malcolm Downs. Percy approaches them, looking awkward and apprehensive as he crosses the lawn.

‘I have told you, I'm not a fighting man,' he says. His wife stands close behind his shoulder and gives a small snort of disgust, as if she had hoped for better but was not expecting more. His sister walks through the trees from the path that leads to the cottage, accompanied by Betty Guard.

‘What is it to be?' asks Stenson, willing to take part now that the action is at hand. He is a fair man with what passed for a withering stare in his days in the army. ‘Is it a duel?'

Roddick twitches uncomfortably. ‘I think you've misunderstood. That would be beyond the pale.'

‘Which of these ladies is the subject of the quarrel?' Stenson asks, his gaze settling on Betty. ‘Well, I need not ask.'

‘It's not as simple as that,' the governess begins, as Percy tries to effect some introductions. But they are interrupted by the arrival of the following carriage. Roddick's gaze has fallen on Betty Guard.

‘Well,' says Stenson, ‘I understand there is honour at stake.' He turns to Roddick for an explanation but his brother-in-law looks as if he is having difficulty remembering why he is here.

‘You're mistaken, sir,' Betty says, addressing Stenson. ‘It's not my honour that's at stake, I am only the cause of another's disgrace.'

‘I am quite confused,' says Stenson.

The carriage draws up, and Jacky Guard steps down, leaving Kentish to help his wife. Ivy is wearing a sprigged pink muslin dress with small appliqué roses on the skirt and a green hat with a rolled-back brim.

‘Now
there
is a lady,' says Stenson, his eyes wide with admi ration, and after the second round of introductions he says; ‘Well then, Mr Kentish, perhaps you will be kind enough to act as a second for Mr Malcolm, for it seems the gentlemen are preparing to fight.'

‘No, they are not,' says Adie, flinging her arms around her brother.

Jacky walks over to his wife and takes her by the arm. ‘I've come to take you home,' he says. Ivy stands behind him, her hands clasped in the air, while her husband looks red-cheeked and alarmed.

‘I have no home,' Betty says, flinging Jacky's hand away.

‘Sir,' Roddick says, remembering himself and addressing Percy, ‘you must order the woman to leave.'

‘I have asked her to go. That is why I have invited the lady's husband to come and collect her. What more can I do?'

Although the morning is still cool, there are beads of sweat on Roddick's moustache. He raises his fists and advances on Percy, who backs towards the roses. ‘You don't know what's at stake, man.'

‘Come on Percy,' Maude says, ‘why don't you just get it over and done with.'

‘What kind of man are you?' Roddick says, still bearing down on his victim.

Adie's scream fills the morning. Percy has fainted clean away and lies collapsed at his wife's feet.

I walk back down the path and into the cottage. Inside, is a wash bench that serves us for our toilette, holding cakes of soap, two clean towels and the pitcher and bowl. I put the jug to one side so I can vomit in the bowl. Behind me, I hear Adie arrive, and turn to see her looking as scared as a cornered opossum.

‘It is all right, Betty,' she says, ‘they've gone. Everything is all right.'

I place a towel across the bowl. ‘It's nothing,' I say, wanting
to push past her and get rid of the contents.

‘You mustn't be frightened like that.'

‘Frightened?' I want to laugh in her owlish earnest face. ‘It is you who has had the fright.'

‘Yes,' she says, sitting down suddenly and heavily. She shades her face with a trembling hand, and I am very sorry for her. ‘But you're ill.'

‘For the moment, but it will pass,' I say, fatigue washing over me. ‘What happened out there was play-acting. I doubt that anyone would have got hurt, even if there had been a fight. You learn to tell the real thing when you see it. As you'll have gathered.'

At least I suppose that she has understood. One evening earlier in the week she said to me, you must write all of this down, what has happened to you. I'd laughed when she said that, for it is easier for me to talk than to read and write. What I took her to mean was that she hadn't heard everything I'd told her. I'd seen her short upper lip twitching between her gentle snores. And yet she really wants to know, as if I hold the key to life's mysteries. As I watch her, I feel sad, knowing she is in love, or thinks she is, and that it will not come easily to her, being with a man. How much more simple it would have been if Percy could have remained her companion and friend, if he had not married Maude.

When it comes down to it, I don't know how much I have told her, and how much I merely think I have. In the nights spent here among the trees, with the moon slanting between the shades, I have talked to myself at length, trying to make sense of what had gone before.

‘We must seem silly to you,' she says at last. ‘Inconsequential.'

I want to agree, and say that yes, it was like a tableau at the Royale where only my husband seemed like a real person, and even he had an air of menace like the man who lurks at the edge of the stage, about to disappear behind a curtain. But I hold my tongue
on the subject of her family, for she has been hospitable to me, and I have made life intolerable for her.

‘It's nothing,' I say again, ‘you haven't made me sick, I am simply with child again.'

When I have made my escape with the bowl, and cleaned my face and straightened my clothes, I ask Adie what has happened. My hair is combed and arranged, held up in a knot with some of her hairpins.

‘Lieutenant Roddick and his odious brother-in-law have left,' says Adie.

‘I'm so sorry,' I tell her.

‘It was never possible,' says Adie. ‘Besides he's too stubborn a man for my taste.' She smiles wanly. ‘Not that I've ever had a taste for a man before.'

‘Too many Greek gods in temples,' I say, and for a moment she almost laughs, pleased with her protégée. ‘But what of my husband?'

‘Captain Guard and the Kentishes have gone down to take refreshments at the Ramparts,' says Adie. ‘They said they'd be back, but they looked very grave.'

‘I can't believe my husband would bring those people with him.'

‘He thought Mrs Kentish might talk you round, but it seems she is more delighted with the novelty of the situation than in making a serious effort to converse with you.'

‘She was always a silly woman,' I say.

Adie looks even more worried than usual. ‘I thought the matter was solely to do with my brother's embarrassment, or rather Maude's fury at having us here. But there is more to it than that. From what I overheard pass between Lieutenant Roddick and your husband, there's talk of a court of inquiry into the rescue of the
Harriet
's passengers and crew.'

‘I see,' I say, and straight away I do see that someone might raise questions. ‘It will be Mr Barrett Marshall.'

‘I should think so. I'm sure I told you that I met that young
man at Government House some months ago. He was on his way to England, set to write a book about what he described as “the incident”.'

‘In that case, I suppose I will have to go and find Jacky,' I say.

‘This baby?'

I look at her, trying to work out what was going through her head.

‘Is this the one that the gossip is about?'

‘Adie,' I say, with some astonishment, ‘Do I look like someone who is five months gone?'

‘Forgive me,' she says, going her old familiar shade of crimson, ‘I'm no expert in these matters. But I can't help wondering, if that is the case, whether it isn't time to put the past behind you. Surely your husband tried to do his best for you, even if he's rough in his ways.'

‘He's been with another woman,' I say. ‘He thinks I don't know. Why do you think he brought the Kentishes?'

‘Because the Kentishes are familiar with the ways of the Governor, and how the colony is administered.'

‘That is not the reason. It is because my own family is not willing to look at me straight. I see the way Charlotte's hungry eyes follow him around the kitchen.'

‘Charlotte?'

‘Well, of course.'

‘But you'd been distant with your husband before you returned to Sydney. You told me so yourself.'