Dorothy Eden (9 page)

‘Now, Gilbert Massingham, it is quite unnecessary to call me something that I realize perfectly already.’

Gilbert roared with laughter, but Eugenia, looking into the long melancholy face, the sad quizzical eyes, found herself suddenly liking Marion Noakes. Or at least being in sympathy with her. There was no opportunity to talk more, for Gilbert wanted to carry her off, if he could induce the guests to part with her. They were all in raptures about her. So elegant, so pretty. But now it was time for her to return to Bess Kelly’s to change, and to have her wedding gown packed into a separate box of which her maid Jane could take charge.

Eugenia was just tying her bonnet strings and hoping that her travelling dress would not be too hot on the long dusty drive, when the alarming news came.

A dangerous convict had escaped from Cockatoo Island, after seriously wounding one of the guards. He had made for Lane Cove, and the hills beyond. He would be hiding out in the bush. More alarming, he had a gun and ammunition which he had stolen from the injured guard. It was unlikely that he would venture near the road, unless he planned a hold-up for the purpose of stealing money or food. Eugenia must not be nervous, but it was better to be prepared than unprepared. Had Gilbert got his rifle ?

Gilbert did not seem at all perturbed by the news. He said that he never travelled without a rifle, and when Eugenia enquired why, he answered that no one travelled far into the country unarmed. They might be marooned by accident, and require to shoot game for food. Or they might encounter a party of hostile blacks, although that rarely happened in these comparatively civilized days.

‘Not on a well-known road like this one,’ he added, noticing his wife’s face. ‘I meant further into the interior where there are no roadside inns. But don’t be alarmed. This fellow will keep clear of habitation for his own good.’

Gilbert was in the highest spirits. He almost seemed to enjoy the prospect of an encounter with a dangerous criminal.

‘Where will he go?’ Eugenia persisted.

‘Into the Blue Mountains, or beyond, I expect. There are plenty of escaped convicts who go into hiding and are never found again. They live with the blacks, if they aren’t assassinated by them.’

It appeared that the convict had been sentenced to transportation for forgery. He had been an educated man, with a sensitive mind which the brutalities of his confinement had tipped into insanity. If encountered, it would be wise to treat him with respect.

Jane King had begun to sob. Mrs Jarvis brusquely told her to calm herself. A frightened man running for his life had only one object and that was to remain out of sight. Who better to know than Mrs Jarvis? Eugenia reassured herself. She must have had enough experience of desperate men. There was the driver of the bullock waggon, too, Will Murphy, a convict who had obtained his freedom, and now worked for Gilbert as a groom and stable boy. He was a rugged-looking fellow who looked as if he could be trusted.

But Eugenia’s sudden heavy feeling of apprehension was not of the escaped convict only, it was also of those long heat-hazed distances that were going to take her farther and farther away from civilization. Of the strange harsh bird cries, the endless whirring of the cicadas, the unholy brightness of the sun that made the parched landscape so strangely melancholy. All the week she had tried not to think of this moment of departure. All that morning she had preserved her determined gaiety and had even been happy. As, of course, she was still, beneath this sudden cowardliness.

Mrs Ashburton, wearing an enormous lavender-coloured bonnet, her face beneath it purple with heat, fussed to the last.

‘Eugenia, have you your smelling salts handy? Where is your parasol? What would your mother say to me if I allowed you to get sunstroke? Will you take my fan? It will help you to keep cool.’ The elaborate lace fan was pressed generously into Eugenia’s hands. ‘Now remember, when you are settled I intend to pay you a visit. A few desperate convicts won’t worry me. I will simply brandish my parasol in their faces and tell them to behave themselves. Come, my dear girl. Kiss me goodbye.’

Eugenia had thought she would be so glad to escape that perpetual voice, as persistent as the cicadas. But now she clung to her, and then to Bess, whose small hot stuffy house seemed a haven. ‘I should really have married Tom,’ she said, in a last forlorn attempt at a joke.

Gilbert, not disguising his impatience, asked her to be so good as to climb into the buggy. It was time they were off. Farewells must not last forever.

The little group in the street waved and shouted good wishes. The children danced and screamed. The men flourished their top-hats. A shower of rice hit the buggy. Then Gilbert whipped up the horse and they were off. When Eugenia looked back there was nothing but a cloud of pale red dust.

And her married life had begun…

A
BRISK TROT, GILBERT
said, would bring them to Parramatta by dark. There he had arranged for them to spend the night in a comfortable hotel and wait for the bullock waggon to catch up with them the next day. After that, an easy drive of ten miles would take them to Yarrabee.

Mike Hansen, the hotel proprietor, was expecting them, and was keeping his best room. There was a shortage of water after the dry summer, but he had faithfully promised Eugenia a bath.

Gilbert told her this when he noticed that even her veil did not keep the powdery dust off her face. As for her gown, chosen so carefully and made with such care, so long ago in London, it was ruined. It didn’t matter, she had plenty more. What was a mere dress, so long as this rough jolting journey was soon safely over. Although she smiled cheerfully, Eugenia’s secret apprehension failed to leave her. She particularly disliked the patches of bush, where although the shade was welcome, there was too much concealment for a fugitive. She preferred the open country in spite of the heat. The parched soil grew little but thorn bushes and the everlasting eucalyptus trees. Crows circled over the landscape, black shadows with black croaking voices. Or a small gathering of kookaburras gave their maniacal laughter. But once Eugenia had to cry aloud in delight as a cloud of grey cockatoos with rosy pink breasts rose and swept across their vision, like a sudden sunset.

‘What are they, Gilbert? They’re so pretty.’

‘Galahs. You’ll see plenty of them at Yarrabee. They haunt the gum trees. Make a devil of a noise.’

It was just after this pleasing incident that the disaster occurred. The horse stumbled in a pothole and went lame.

Gilbert leapt out of the buggy, cursing as he examined the horse’s left fetlock. Then he remembered the presence of his bride, and apologized.

‘But this is the devil of a fix. We’ll have to wait for the bullock waggon. I’m desperately sorry. I’ve done this journey a dozen times with this mare. She’s never failed me before.’

Eugenia climbed out of the buggy to look at the trembling mare.

‘Is it a serious injury?’

‘It will be if we try to continue our journey. She’ll have to rest. And so, I am afraid, will we.’

The spot was open. There was a little shade under a clump of young gum trees with their pleasant aromatic scent, and, blessedly, very little cover anywhere for an assassin. Eugenia summoned up her good spirits.

‘Then we might as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible. Let us spread the rug under these trees. We can pretend we are having a picnic. It’s such a relief to take this hot veil off.’

‘Yes, I like that better. Now I can see your face. What a pity we didn’t bring a bottle of wine with us.’

‘I would much prefer some cold water,’ Eugenia said honestly. ‘Is the sun always so hot?’

‘Don’t complain about it. It’s ripening my grapes. Well, we do look a pair of fools, I must say. I’m afraid there’s no chance of us reaching Parramatta this evening. We’ll have to put up at the nearest inn. Will you mind?’

‘Is there one?’

‘Yes, about six miles on. It’s not much of a place, but it will be a roof over our heads. The devil take it, what a wedding night!’

Eugenia began to giggle at the absurdity of it all. What a story this would make to write to Sarah. Seeing her mirth Gilbert laughed, too, and pulled her towards him to kiss her.

‘Bless you, my love, for taking it so well.’

‘I had always expected some hardships in this country,’ she said. But her laughter had gone as she became aware again not only of the oppressive loneliness, but of the possible nearness of a desperate fugitive who might think to turn their plight to his advantage.

‘What will happen to him, when he is caught?’ she couldn’t help asking.

‘Your mind is on that convict again? He’ll be sent to a penal settlement. If he isn’t hanged, he’ll be kept in irons.’

‘He must have had a bad master.’

‘Quite probably. There are plenty of those. But this isn’t a subject for our wedding day. Enjoy the quiet and the rest. We shouldn’t have too long to wait.’

The sun, however, was sinking in a great flame and the gum trees had turned black in a lonely haunted landscape when at last the waggon creaked up to them and came to a halt.

Jane tumbled out, crying, ‘Oh, ma’am, are you all right? Oh, isn’t it all awful!’

Mrs Jarvis said quietly, ‘Be quiet, you silly girl. The mistress isn’t hurt, as you can see.’

‘No, I am not hurt. I am only tired and thirsty and covered in dust. Our horse went lame. It was the worst possible luck.’ She began to laugh in sheer relief. ‘I am so glad to see you. We are to go to an inn which is quite close, my husband says.’

They were no longer mistress and maids, but three women isolated in the enormous wilderness. They kept close together as Gilbert and Murphy transferred the luggage from the buggy to the waggon, and tied the lame horse behind.

‘Now get in, all of you,’ Gilbert said. ‘If you don’t want to be lost in the dark.’

There was light from a window, a swinging sign that said ‘Muldooney’s’, and a dog barking. A woman with straggling hair and wearing a dirty apron came to the door, looked at the waggon and the weary travellers, said, ‘You want accommodation? You’d better come in,’ and they had found their night’s refuge.

A narrow passage led to a stairway. On one side an open door showed a bar at which several bearded men were making a great babel.

‘Rum drinkers,’ said Gilbert to Eugenia, in a tone of disgust.

‘Come along in and shut the door,’ said the woman, who was now holding a lighted lamp. ‘There’s a prisoner at large. We don’t want to wake up with our throats cut. Which is your wife, sir?’

Gilbert took Eugenia’s arm.

The woman’s eyes rested briefly on Eugenia’s fashionable gown. ‘You’ll want to get that off. The heat must be killing you. I can give you the front bedroom, but the other ladies will have to make do with the small one at the back.’

Eugenia asked, ‘Have you heard about the prisoner already?’

‘We have. The troopers have been out. They’ve told us to put the bars up tonight. It’s months since we had a hold-up and I don’t want another. You new here, missis?’

‘She arrived only last week,’ Gilbert said stiffly, resenting the familiar tone.

The woman gave a short laugh. ‘She’ll get used to it. Or go mad. Won’t you, dear? I’ll show you your room. Do you want to cat?’

Gilbert was about to acquiesce, but Eugenia’s hand was on his arm. ‘I’m not hungry, Gilbert. I will go upstairs at once.’

The room, she supposed, could have been worse. There were rag mats on the floor, a double bed with a clean cotton spread, two upright wooden chairs and a table, on which stood a jug and basin. No wardrobe, no mirror, no
chambre de toilette,
which meant braving the terrors of the backyard. Her wedding night. It was going to be memorable, to say the least.

Somehow she managed to smile at their slatternly hostess.

‘Thank you. This will do very well.’

The woman gave her caustic hoot of laughter.

‘You don’t need to give me your grand lady manners. I can see this isn’t what you’re used to. But it’s better than the bush.’ Some not quite forgotten dignity came to her, and she added, ‘Sleep well, my lady,’ and withdrew.

‘My lady!’ said Eugenia, stretching her arms behind her head and yawning. ‘I confess I never felt less like a “my lady”.’

‘My poor darling, how can I tell you how sorry I am.’ Gilbert wanted to take her in his arms. She moved away. She was sticky with heat.

‘It isn’t your fault. I blame no one but providence. Do you think we will be eaten alive by mosquitoes if we have the window open?’

‘I fear so.’

‘Then we will have to die of suffocation instead. Anyway, that window looks as if it would fall out if it were tampered with.’ Eugenia sank down on the bed. She really was so fatigued, she could scarcely stand. ‘Do please stop looking at me in that anxious way. All I require is a jug of water and the small wicker bag that contains my night things. When I have those you are free to do as you please. You may even join the gentlemen at the bar and persuade them to drink your wine.’

Gilbert gave a half-laugh, looking at her with tenderness and admiration.

‘Shall I send Jane to you? Or Mrs Jarvis, who looked the better for wear, I must say.’

‘Neither. Just make sure they are comfortable for the night. Or as comfortable as can be.’

‘Very well, my love.’ Then he did come to take her in his arms, putting his cheek against hers. ‘You have my greatest admiration. You have behaved wonderfully. But pray don’t regard this as our wedding night. You are much too tired, and these are hardly the surroundings in which to show you how much I love you. Get into bed and sleep. I’m going to see to the horse and the baggage. I promise not to wake you when I join you.’

The water, when it came, was red from the rusty soil. But it was cold, and somehow she had to conquer her distaste and wash gingerly in it. Mrs Jarvis had brought it, as well as Eugenia’s wicker bag.

She had asked if there was anything else the mistress wanted. Jane, she explained, was in a state of collapse. The lonely country had frightened her.

‘Then she must either get used to it, or go back to Sydney,’ Eugenia said briskly. ‘No, thank you, Mrs Jarvis. I don’t require anything more. I mean only to unpack my night things and go to bed.’ She thought that there was a glint of admiration in Mrs Jarvis’s eyes, too. But it had taken all her ingenuity to keep up this bold front. The truth was that she was a feeble creature, utterly dismayed by the night’s events. When the necessity for a journey down the dark back garden became evident she was filled with nervous terror.