Ghost Gum Valley (73 page)

‘Of course, it's as rough as hell at the moment, but you won't know the place in a couple of weeks. Once it's painted and papered. There'll be plenty of room for your aunt,' he added casually, ‘and both the kiddies.'

‘It's a wonderful house, Marmaduke. I'm so proud of you. Didn't I tell you that you could do anything you set your mind to? At last you really will be the master of Mingaletta – doesn't that have a grand ring to it?'

‘Yeah. Not half bad.'

‘You know why I want to give birth to our babe in this house? To replace all the sad, bad memories of things that happened here. I want to bring joy into your home.'

Marmaduke drew her into the crook of his arm and Isabel had no doubt that their truce was signed in his hungry kiss. She also knew her other mission had failed. There was no chance of his making peace with Garnet Gamble.

Chapter 51

Marmaduke climbed back onto the roof of the house and watched Isabel ride away. She turned in the saddle and waved to him like a child. Marmaduke felt a longing to call her back to his side and never let her out of his sight again.

Working all afternoon, unmindful of the sun, he hardly felt the hot wind burning his face. His mind replayed the words of Isabel's arguments. His pride rejected some of them his love retained others to warm him. ‘
Our bed is far too big without you, darling
.'

Despite his ironclad refusal to return to Bloodwood Hall and see Garnet, Marmaduke began to feel a reluctant touch of pity for any man whose beloved wife made him the cuckold in a triangle.

As he began to see himself in a new light, a child caught at the heart of three passionate adults Hell-bent on messing up their lives, he was reminded of one of the key tenets in the wisdom of Freemasonry.

A Mason must keep his passions and prejudices within due bounds. I reckon for me that's gunna be a lifelong occupation!

He gave a wry smile at the thought that since Isabel had crept into his heart and taken up residence there, the unthinkable had happened. He now had no trouble focusing all his sexual drive on one woman. He was afraid to touch her now she was with child, but tried to content himself with fantasies of making love to her.

Isabel had not mentioned Silas de Rolland but Marmaduke's anxiety was aggravated by Davey's sighting of his carriage and the ever present knowledge that Penkivil Park was only a few miles away. The man's lack of contact didn't align with what Marmaduke knew of the nature of the beast.

His mind kept revolving around his desire for revenge, to meet Silas de Rolland face to face and challenge him. Legally he had no recourse by which to bring Silas to justice for his abuse of Isabel as a child. Marmaduke knew that the acts which in his eyes were clearly sexual abuse of a minor were not covered by British law. The age of consent was twelve and it was not uncommon for rape cases in the
Colony involving adult men and girls of eight or nine to be dropped because females, even children, were considered guilty of enticing men to have intercourse.

Was a second murder disguised as a duel the only way to stop Silas stalking Isabel? Fate had tricked him into killing Klaus von Starbold, an act he must live with for the rest of his life. He was ready to kill Silas but what would happen to Isabel and his babe if
he
should be the one to die? Silas would claim them!

‘Never!' he cried out aloud.

I refuse to die. Silas doesn't deserve to live, but does that give me the right to play God?
Shit, I'm beginning to feel like Hamlet! Life was a Hell of a lot easier when I was young and stupid and didn't stop to weigh the consequences.

At sundown Marmaduke watched Garnet's assigned men troop back to their cabins at Bloodwood Hall. As usual he cooked a meal over the campfire but his eye was repeatedly drawn to the section of the ruined house beneath the foundations of the new building. For the first time Marmaduke saw the scene vividly in his mind as if from the other side of the mirror. His mother lying naked in the arms of her lover – his true father.

Marmaduke crossed to the door where the padlock hung open on the sprocket. The cellar was in darkness. In the doorway he struck a match and lit the stub of a candle, causing a fragile web of shadows to bounce off the walls.

The open door allowed a cool draft of air inside as Marmaduke re-entered the past, seeking to free himself as a man from a boy's memories.

He now knew this was not the scene of his mother's rape but her final desperate act of love with her lover – their farewell.

Marmaduke lost all sense of time but finally he knew he had found it – a sense of peace with the past.

They were young, consumed by passion. No matter how badly it all went wrong, I should be grateful to them. They gave me my life.

With a sense of shock he realised the dual significance of Klaus von Starbold's dying words,
‘You do not take my life – I give you yours
.'

Marmaduke wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and was about to leave when he heard the sound of an approaching horse.
Heavy footsteps were followed by something that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stiffen – the unmistakeable pungent smell of kerosene.

He charged towards the door ready to hurl himself at the man and foil his plan. He glimpsed a thick-set torso. A battered face. The flash of moonlight on a metal triangle shielding the nose. Silas de Rolland's henchman!

The man lit a match that threw his face into sharp relief, scowling to find he was not alone. Seconds before Marmaduke reached the door a beefy arm slammed the door shut. Marmaduke let out a bellow of rage at the metallic sound of the padlock being locked in place.

Marmaduke threw his full body weight against the door in a series of violent blows that rattled the door and would eventually break it down, but there wasn't time enough. He heard the man's laboured grunts and the crackling of flames.

Now there were two men's voices. The rough Cockney voice called out, ‘We got company, sir, in there!'

From a distance came the languid, mildly amused accent of an English gentleman. ‘How very convenient. You take care of things, Cooper. Must return to my guests...'

The voice faded as a horse rode away.

Just like that mongrel to leave his henchman to do his dirty work for him.

Only minutes remained to act. Flames would leap hungrily from room to room and burn the house to the ground. A thin trail of smoke filtered through the slit beneath the door. His lungs would soon fill with acrid smoke and choke the life out of him.

The plan was so bizarre he almost laughed.
Death by suffocation. Jesus, I came to this cellar to lay the family ghosts. Instead it's gunna be my
tomb!

Wracked by a fit of coughing, Marmaduke tried to control his panic. In a desperate attempt to drag air into his lungs, he sank to his knees, every instinct of survival fighting against the knowledge he was done for. It was then he saw it – or did he?

The thing outlined by the flickering light of the candle was a dark shadow on the wall, the outline of a man's outstretched hand pointing to the floor in the corner – a small patch of grey. He crawled towards
the light and felt a draught of air through a hole at ground level, perhaps just big enough to force his body through...

Mustering a final burst of energy Marmaduke dragged himself towards it. As he hunched his shoulders and began to thrust his body through the opening, he was almost sure he heard it. A familiar, oddly comforting sound he remembered – the sharp click of heeled boots, von Starbold's mark of approval when he bowed to his young student in tribute to his success.

The face of the moon was clouded by smoke. Flames leapt and crackled like spears pointed at the night sky, showering the air with burning fragments like pollen blowing on the wind. Fire devoured the timber, raging in control, no longer in need of the arsonist's fuel.

Marmaduke knew it was all over. Mingaletta was lost. By dawn it would be a smouldering black ruin. Two dreams were dead: his mother's and his own. He had wanted to create a safe refuge for Isabel. Failure tasted as bitter as gall.

Torn and bruised, struggling from the cellar, Marmaduke shielded his eyes from the flames as he ran to the
gunyah
to arm himself. His weapon was gone.

The click of a cocked pistol caused him to spin around, face to face with the man with the tin nose. Cooper pointed his gun at him. The irony wasn't wasted on Marmaduke – he realised he was the target of his own pistol. His was conscious how cold his hands were. The same icy chill he had felt minutes before the duel.

He looked Cooper in the eye. Unarmed and faced with death Marmaduke had little choice. He took a gamble on wounding the older man's ego.

‘I'd rather fight the puppeteer who pulls your strings, Cooper, but seeing as you're the bloke who struck the match for the bonfire – you'll do!'

Cooper hesitated before jerking his head towards the burning house.

‘That's me master's business. I ain't got no personal grudge against you. No call to kill you unless you force me hand.'

‘I'm not armed.' Marmaduke raised his hands to confirm it. ‘If you're a
real
man and not just the organ grinder's monkey, you'll give
me satisfaction. Chance it! Fight me man to man. Or have you turned coward in your
old age
?'

Cooper grunted. ‘Want to be a dead hero, do you?'

‘Let's find out!'

Marmaduke seized the moment. He lunged at lightning speed, dislodged the pistol from Cooper's fist and sent it flying sky-high to land somewhere in the bush.

‘Now we're even, mate. Come and get me!' Marmaduke beckoned him with both hands, shifting his weight from foot to foot, shaping up to fight him.

Cooper was furious but confident. ‘You want to put money on that?'

The Cockney grunted and began to feint and spring on the balls of his feet. Surprise registered in his eyes when Marmaduke's first blow caught him off guard, dislodging the metal nose guard from his face and sending it flying with a metallic ring onto the ground.

Marmaduke gave an involuntary flinch at the gaping hole where the nose had been eaten away by disease. The wound was repugnant but sympathy was misplaced. This brute had savaged Josiah Mendoza, an elderly man so gentle he even said a Hebrew prayer before he killed a Redback spider.

Marmaduke sized up his opponent's fighting style while careful to dance out of range of the first jabs that came his way.

Shit! He's no spring chicken but he's built as tough as a British man-o'-war.

Marmaduke taunted him. ‘You sure picked a rum boss cocky. Didn't Silas de Rolland warn you? In this Colony arson's a crime on a par with murder. Burn a bloke's house down, you end up dancing on the scaffold.'

Marmaduke's next telling punch was to Cooper's belly and drew a barrage of blows that signalled to Marmaduke exactly what he was up against – a trained pugilist.

Knowing he was outclassed, Marmaduke fought on, driven by rage and frustration. He imagined the faceless de Rolland kinsman who had stolen Isabel's childhood and now, piece by piece, was demolishing every facet of Marmaduke's world.

Cheated of fighting the true villain, Marmaduke slugged it out with his henchman.

Chance gave Marmaduke a freak punch that landed in the hole in the ex-prize fighter's face and drew a howl of outrage. But Marmaduke paid a heavy price for it. Cooper rained a storm of blows to every part of his head and torso. When Marmaduke in exhaustion allowed his defences to slip, Cooper's dirty streetfighter tactics came into action.

He delivered his
coup de grâce
– a series of savage blows below the belt.

Marmaduke fell to his knees doubled up in agony. His opponent seized the moment to put the boot in. Marmaduke lost count of them, overcome by excruciating pain.

He realised he must have passed out for a few minutes when he discovered his hands were bound behind his back, his feet shackled like a convict in an iron-gang.

Shit, I'm trussed up like a Christmas turkey. From the looks of it Cooper's gunna tie me to that tree.

Moonlight glinted on the metal nose guard that was back in place. As Cooper tied a rope around Marmaduke's chest he kept up a cheerful running commentary.

‘Tomorrow one of your felons will come here and cut you down – dead or alive. You're no coward so I'll give you an even break. I'll rope you to a tree that's out of range of the wind – so you won't catch fire.'

‘You're all heart, Cooper, giving me a front row seat to watch my house burn down!'

Cooper shrugged. ‘Nothing personal, cobber.'

Marmaduke recognised Cooper was a walking example of Newgate prison's code of ethics.

Marmaduke felt the taste of blood in his mouth but was determined to have the final word. As Cooper rode off he called after him.

‘Tell your master Marmaduke Gamble sent him a warning. “It's not over until he's six feet under an Australian tombstone.”'

A grunt sounded in the darkness then the horse galloped off in the direction of Penkivil Park.

Marmaduke felt crushed by a wave of melancholia as he watched the fire raging. The metal roof of Mingaletta collapsed into the ruins of the house with an almighty crash.

My whole life has been wasted. I never told Isabel she did the impossible – taught me how to love. I never got to see my babe born at Mingaletta. Never fulfilled my mother's dream. Never reunited Rose Alba with Isabel. Never told Klaus von Starbold he was my hero. And I never got the chance to say to Garnet...what?

It was then Marmaduke realised the wind had changed direction and was directing the flames of the fire towards him. This was it. He was a sitting duck.

Chapter 52