Going Home (32 page)

‘I must go and lie down.’ Her mother’s eyes were bloodshot and she compressed her lips into a narrow line as she fought to check her emotion. ‘I have a headache and I must be alone to think what is to be done.’

‘There is nothing to be done, Mama,’ Phoebe said steadily. ‘I have decided. And if you will not give your consent so that we can be married in England, then when we return home I will live with Jack as his wife until I am of age to marry him.’

Her mother staggered as she stood up and put her hand to her head. ‘I cannot believe I am hearing such things from your lips, Phoebe.’ She gazed at Phoebe pleadingly. ‘Tell me that nothing has happened between you and Mr Mungo? That there is no shame to impart?’

Phoebe shook her head. ‘There is no shame.
Jack Mungo is and always has been a man of honour. He has always respected me. But if I cannot legally marry him, then I will go with him as I have said.’ She put her hand out to her mother, who turned away from her. ‘I’m sorry, Mama, to upset you.’

After her mother had left to go to her room, Phoebe crossed the hall, intending to walk in the garden. As she descended the outside steps she saw Mrs Linton sitting on a seat near the rose walk. She did not feel much like conversation but Mrs Linton had lifted her head and seen her, so she was obliged to walk towards her.

‘Are you well, Mrs Linton?’ Phoebe thought her hostess looked rather peaky.

‘Well enough, my dear,’ she said, ‘but in rather a meditative mood. Life is full of surprises and it would seem that ours is about to change.’

‘You must have seen many changes, Mrs Linton,’ Phoebe said. ‘More than most.’

‘Yes, certainly in my early life. Circumstances over which I had no control. People, one person in particular, who did not care what happened to me, changed my life beyond all recognition.’ Then her face lit up with a smile. ‘But I had the strength of love to sustain me. Without that I could not have survived.’

‘So’, Phoebe said slowly, ‘love is important above all else, would you say, ma’am?’

‘Oh, undoubtedly. If you have never loved then you have never lived.’

Phoebe reached out to touch her hand. ‘Thank you, Mrs Linton. Thank you so much.’

Emily Linton looked puzzled. ‘For what, my dear?’

‘For confirming what I already believed. Mrs Linton, would you be kind enough, a little later, to seek out Mama? I have given her news which has upset her and she needs a friend to talk to.’

‘Of course. I too need to talk. My husband and I have had a long discussion with Roger. When you and your mother, Ralph and Mr Mungo – Jack,’ she smiled, ‘return home – ’ She gave a great sigh. ‘Our son Roger wishes to go with you. I will miss him so much,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But we must let him go, so that he will come back.’

‘So you will lose your son and that saddens you and I have just told Mama that she is to gain one, and that saddens her.’ Phoebe felt a sudden rush of emotion towards her mother and Emily Linton. What great strength was needed to be a parent and how selfish children were.

Emily Linton gazed quizzically at her. ‘Do you wish to tell me about it? Are you to be married?’

Phoebe nodded.

‘To Ralph?’

‘To Jack Mungo.’

‘Ah!’ Mrs Linton exclaimed softly. ‘Your mother will be concerned for you! For the difficulties and prejudices that you will surely
encounter.’ Then she turned to Phoebe and put her arm around her. ‘How very brave you are. You must love him very much.’

Phoebe burst into tears as she received the comfort she was seeking. ‘I know how difficult it will be,’ she sobbed. ‘I shall have to leave Sydney and all my friends. My father won’t speak to me, but I shan’t care about that; he has never shown either my brother or me any affection; but my mother will have to meet me in secret for my father will forbid our meeting. And, the worst thing of all – ’ She hesitated: she had not confessed this fear to anyone else. ‘Is that – in spite of the fact that I know Jack loves me, he might take another “wife” – an Aborigine woman to give him children so that their race will not die out.’

Mrs Linton gave her a handkerchief to wipe her eyes and said gently, ‘And in spite of all that, you still wish to marry him.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do.’

‘You want to marry Phoebe?’ Ralph confronted Jack. ‘But you know how I have felt towards her! How can you possibly do this to me?’

He saw contrition written on Jack’s face and decided that he wouldn’t let him off easily, even though he felt a release inside himself. Phoebe wasn’t for him, he now knew. She and Jack were right for each other, in spite of their obvious cultural and racial differences.

‘I’m sorry, Ralph,’ Jack began. ‘I have tried to
tell you so many times that she was not the woman for you.’

‘And so you sneaked up behind my back and charmed her with your sweet talking, just the way you do with other ladies!’

‘No!’ Jack protested. ‘It has never been like that. You know that I only ever jested with others. No-one ever took me seriously!’

‘What about Miss Linton?’ Ralph barked at him. ‘Did she not take you seriously?’

‘Miss Linton! Ah,’ he breathed. ‘She is an admirable lady. I have a great fondness for her. But she is not the one for me. She requires a special kind of man for a husband.’

Ralph put his hands to his head in mock despair and Jack frowned. ‘I didn’t think that you would take it so badly! I didn’t realize that your feelings ran so deeply. Phoebe isn’t aware of them.’

‘You have spoken to her then?’ Ralph glared at him.

‘We have spoken of our feelings for one another many times.’

‘Traitor!’ Ralph bellowed. ‘And you were supposed to be my friend.’

Jack looked distressed and bewildered, and Ralph thought that perhaps he had gone far enough. ‘There’s only one thing for it,’ he insisted. ‘I challenge you! We must fight for her.’

Jack’s mouth dropped open. ‘Fight!’ he said. ‘But – ’

‘Isn’t that what your people do when two men want the same woman?’

There was a lightning flash of anger on Jack’s normally peaceful face. ‘Yes, and I have also seen white men fight over a woman.’ He unbuttoned his jacket and threw it over the saddle of the horse. His white shirt gleamed in the darkness and the whites of his eyes glistened in his dark face. ‘If that’s what you want, then I will wrestle you. But take heed. It is at your own peril. I will win as I always do.’

‘We’ll see!’ Ralph too unbuttoned his jacket and threw it down. He rolled up his shirtsleeves. ‘We’ll see.’ A man and a woman walking through the square stopped for a moment and then crossed over and hurried away, but a tramp sitting in a doorway got up and came nearer, settling on the ground near them for a better view.

Ralph stretched his arms and hands in a downwards position as he was the challenger, and Jack put up his arms in a passive position and they walked towards each other. Someone in a room over a shop opened a window and leaned out to watch, calling encouragement to Ralph. ‘Don’t let the foreigner win, mate,’ he shouted.

‘We’re both foreigners,’ Ralph shouted back, and launched himself at Jack.

It was an uneven match. Jack was angry and his weight weighed heavily into his torso, legs and feet, and Ralph couldn’t shift him, no
matter how he heaved. Then Jack suddenly lightened himself and allowed Ralph to toss him and he landed lightly on his feet.

A small crowd gathered. Late-night revellers, drifting home from club or theatre, stopped to watch the unusual fight where no violence was used, no fist or feet, no knife or glass.

Two more rounds and Jack was the challenger and Ralph prepared himself to be thrown. He landed awkwardly on his feet and fell, rolling over onto his side where he lay still.

‘Get up!’ Jack nudged him with his foot. ‘We’re not finished yet.’

Ralph didn’t answer but his shoulders started to heave. Jack leaned over him. ‘Get up,’ he shouted at him. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

He pushed him again with his foot and Ralph rolled over onto his back, shaking with laughter. ‘Hah,’ he roared. ‘If you could have seen your face!’

‘What!’ Jack glared at him as Ralph continued to roar with laughter. ‘Are you – ?’ Realization hit him as Ralph sat up, still laughing. ‘You! You White Devil! You’re fooling!’

‘’Course I’m fooling.’ Ralph put his hand up for Jack to pull him up. ‘Would I let even a lovely woman come between us?’

‘Yes,’ Jack answered softly. ‘You would if you really cared for her.’ He put out his hand, then grabbed Ralph around the waist and threw him and Ralph, totally unprepared, landed with a crash on the ground. A cheer went up from
the crowd. They drifted away and Ralph lay groaning.

‘That wasn’t fair,’ he grumbled. ‘I wasn’t ready.’

Jack pulled him up. ‘Always be prepared,’ he grinned. ‘Even your best friend can turn on you.’

Ralph slapped him on the back. ‘Good luck, old fellow,’ he said with feeling. ‘You have my good wishes, both of you.’

THEY WERE ALL
gathered together in the drawing room of Elmswell Manor. Supper was over and empty coffee cups and brandy glasses were being cleared away. Although the evening was still warm, a cheerful fire burned in the grate, enhancing the perfume of lilies which were placed in vases around the room. In front of the hearth on a Chinese rug, a young dog lay snoring gently and a black and white kitten slept between its paws.

Harriet had not returned to Holderness with them but Elizabeth was still there. Her countenance had lost its pinched, tense look and she seemed more at ease than they had ever known her. ‘My one desire’, she was saying to Mrs Boyle, ‘is that Harriet should marry Thomas. He has been so faithful all these years. For myself I want nothing more than to continue teaching. I am content now that I know my mother is at peace.’

Ralph heard her quiet words and reluctantly
turned his eyes away from the piano where Amelia was playing softly whilst Roger turned over the pages of music. Ralph had not heard her play before. They had been so busy chatting and discussing, to-ing and fro-ing between Holderness and York since they arrived on their visit, that they had not all gathered together in one group since their first evening, and he had not heard Amelia play or sing as she was doing now or even known that she could.

Elizabeth shall have her wish, he thought. I have money enough. I will give Harriet a dowry so that she might marry her Mr Thacker, and Elizabeth shall be comfortable in her little house. He turned his eyes back to Amelia and gazed at her profile. She had a faint smile on her face as she played a gentle melody, yet there seemed to be a sadness there. She glanced towards the windows which were open, letting in the soft smell of rain which had come earlier. He followed her gaze and saw the huge orange harvest moon filling the aperture of two panes of glass. Tomorrow the gathering of the harvest was to begin and after that the visitors would start their preparation for the journey home.

He closed his eyes as a pulsating agitation seized him. I don’t want to go! Not yet. He swallowed hard as the knowledge threatened to engulf him. Why don’t I? I want to see Ma and Da and Peggy. I have missed them, more than I thought I would. He had written to them and told them of all that had happened and that he
had discovered that his natural mother, Rose Elizabeth Fielding, had been a good person and Edward Scott, of whom he could never think as his father, was a bad one.

He opened his eyes as he heard the words, ‘I don’t want to go back,’ and thought that he had spoken out loud. Amelia was looking towards him but as he caught her gaze, she turned away.

It was Mrs Boyle who had uttered the words. ‘I can’t,’ she said with despair in her voice, and although she was speaking to Mrs Linton they had all caught the words and had fallen silent, all but Amelia who continued to play softly in the background.

Mrs Boyle, after much heart-searching, had agreed that an accommodating priest could be sought who would marry Phoebe and Jack with the consent of one parent. There was, she had decided, no other alternative.

‘I cannot return and face the anger and hostility of Captain Boyle,’ she continued. In her anxious and agitated state, she no longer cared who knew or heard her opinion of her husband. ‘I shall live with my mother and brother and his wife, and although I shall always be the poor relation, it will be preferable to returning to a man who has no compassion and is blind and deaf to my concerns or emotions.’

There was an awkward silence, then Phoebe said in a low voice, ‘But you will not see me or Edwin again, Mama. Does that not upset you?’

‘Of course it upsets me!’ Her mother took out a handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes. ‘But as I said before, your father would not allow me to visit you. And as for Edwin, I see so little of him anyway. He prefers to spend time with his friends than to be at home.’

Phoebe gave a sudden blink of her blue eyes and clenched her lips, but said no more, only exchanging a glance with Jack who was sitting close by her and reached out his hand to enclose hers.

‘I understand your feelings, my dear.’ Emily Linton spoke quietly and compassionately to Mrs Boyle. ‘To look ahead and only see emptiness in front of you. I have been through that and am aware of the turmoil that is besetting you.’ She looked towards Ralph and raised her eyebrows questioningly and he nodded. ‘I think also of someone else in my time of trouble who was going through that same turmoil, and who took a way out which was consequential, and is why we are sitting here today.’

She turned to Elizabeth Fielding. ‘I have spoken to Ralph of your mother, and we decided that you are now well enough to know the truth of your mother’s death.’

She hesitated; the past was still very painful to her. ‘It was dark below decks on the convict ship and we were all sick. I remember your mother handing her baby to Meg as she couldn’t pacify him or stop him crying. Meg had no experience of babies and yet a bond was made immediately.
I believe that your mother saw that and was comforted by it.’

As Emily Linton looked back into the past, the image flashed before her of the woman poised on the ship’s bulwarks before she took the final step, and she shook her head to dispel it and return to the present. ‘I believe that your mother, who had given all her love and strength to her two young daughters and yet had lost them, thought that she would lose this child too when she reached Australia.’