Summer at Mount Hope (27 page)

‘You'll see wonderful landscape up on the Murray,' said Marius.

‘We hope Phoeba will see it,' interrupted Lilith. ‘We're all busting for Hadley to propose again.'

‘Not all of us!' yelled Robert and throwing his napkin at her so it stuck to her curls and hid her face. She threw it back at him.

‘It's wrong for a woman to move away from her family even in this day and age of rapid transport,' said Maude, coming to life. ‘Women and children perish out there alone. You can't tell me it isn't the same as murder, taking a girl into the bush and making her fend with dozens of children while her husband falls off his horse in some distant valley and dies, or she gets abducted by timber-getters or blacks while he's off shearing.' She glared at Robert. ‘No responsible man in his right mind would take a woman to live in the bush!'

They were silent. The only sound was Robert chewing. Lilith ate her salad, Marius sawed at his tomato and Hadley lifted the pepper mill and looked at the bottom of it.

‘It does sound very pretty up around the Murray,' said Phoeba, to break the silence, but the comment set Maude off again.

‘That it may be, but all that means is the dangers are harder to see!'

They were silent again.

Maude suddenly excused herself and crept back to her dark, quiet room.

Robert shifted his salad about with his knife, as if he was searching for rat dirt. ‘For the life of me I cannot fathom women. I am extremely vexed by the lot of them.' He looked at Lilith. ‘This salad has pips in it.'

‘Almonds,' she said, ‘they're new.'

‘New?' said Phoeba.

‘Your wife, sir, is losing a daughter,' said Hadley philosophically.

‘That's not it,' said Lilith buttering another slice of bread. ‘She's going through the change.'

Marius nodded, but looked puzzled. Hadley wasn't sure exactly what it meant either but he'd heard men at the sheds talk about women going to asylums for a time.

‘So,' said Phoeba, ‘tell us Marius, is your crop ruined? Are you broke?

‘Not that I know of,' he laughed.

‘What will you do if you are?'

‘Phoeba,' said Robert sternly. ‘You are being very intrusive.'

‘It would be very crowded if you came here,' said Phoeba.

‘I don't think,' said Hadley gently, ‘that this is the time or the place.'

‘And,' continued Phoeba, ‘you wouldn't like taking direction from me, a woman.'

‘He won't,' said Lilith, and the corner of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

February 7, 8, 9, 1894

L
ilith and Maude happily checked the contents of Lilith's trousseau against the ‘Approaching Marriage' article in the
Southern Sphere
. They packed fine white cotton drawstring bloomers, collarettes, nuns' veiling nighties, suspender straps, corsets and silk flowers, garters, ribbons, a selection of lace handkerchiefs and far too many petticoats. Together they altered Lilith's best frock, then trimmed her hat and covered her shoes with the discarded material. Lilith was threading her shoes with ribbon when Phoeba asked her again if Overton was in financial strife.

‘You can't ruin this for me, Phoeba. It's impossible. I'm too happy.'

‘The rain must have ruined the crop, Lilith, and they were in dire straights before Rudolph bailed them out.'

‘Marius has said nothing to me.'

‘Well, he wouldn't,' said Phoeba. ‘Why would you tell the woman you were about to marry, after only three or four short months of widowhood, that you were broke and wanted to live at her house and work for her father?'

Lilith paused, letting the ribbons slip onto the floor and curl beside the ottoman. She gazed out through the heavy drapes as if there was a miracle outside. She smiled. ‘But if they do lose their property to the bank then we will go to Melbourne. And I will live in Toorak!'

Maude carried in a plum cake encased in smooth white icing and set it on a huge silver tray in the middle of the dining table. ‘There were no almonds left,' she said, standing back to admire it. ‘Mrs Titterton may have a machine for washing clothes, but I think I will have grandchildren before her.'

‘I think you will too,' said Phoeba, remembering Lilith had risen in the night and leaned from the bedroom window to retch, and her usual afternoon nap had stretched from half an hour to almost two.

Robert polished the sulky and harness and then found Lilith.

‘Give us a trim, Lil?'

He sat on the back porch with a tablecloth around his shoulders while Lilith trimmed his receding hair, his eyebrows and the spikes jutting from his round, dark nostrils. As she snipped the last fine fronds curling on his sagging ear lobes Robert said, ‘If you find the mansion too draughty and don't feel useful, Lil, you can always come back home to your kerosene lamps,' he said, reaching around to pat her hand.

‘I can be very useful if it suits me,' she said, removing the tablecloth and shaking the hair from it. ‘And I will continue to cut your hair for years, until there is none left.'

‘I should have clouted you more often,' he said, ‘but I think this will be the making of you.'

‘And I think that you'll miss my presence very much,' said Lilith. ‘You underestimated me, Dad,' she said and threw the tablecloth at him covering his head.

He laughed and pulled the cloth away just as Henrietta came riding down from the outcrop with a basket of roses from Mr Titterton's garden. ‘For corsages,' she called, ‘and the bouquet if you like.'

‘Henri, you are priceless,' said Lilith. ‘I look forward to having you as my neighbour at Overton.'

Henrietta found Phoeba in the vineyard. ‘Rudolph's back,' she said quietly.

‘Do you think—'

‘I can't tell, Phoeba. Perhaps after the wedding …' Henrietta looked pained.

By Friday evening, Maude was in bed, wrung-out and aching. Phoeba gave her a cold marjoram compress for her throbbing forehead and a warmed sack of lavender and oats to ease her cramps.

‘There are ants in my veins,' she said.

But for the first time in days, Phoeba felt wonderful. Tomorrow was Saturday, Lilith's wedding day. And Rudolph would be there.

Saturday, February 10, 1894

I
t was a glorious day. Maggie blinked and stopped chewing her cud when she saw Phoeba coming at dawn. She walked hesitantly on sleepy legs to her milking stand and sprang up, and together they watched the sunrise push a sheet of cloud back to reveal a brilliant sky. A breeze wafted in carrying the smell of dew on stubble, sheep manure and dusty eucalyptus leaves. Today must go smoothly; there must be no scenes, no hitches. Lilith must get to Overton on time, composed and radiant.

Phoeba shook her awake at seven with a cup of tea and said, ‘The water in the copper is hot and the bath is waiting.'

Then she went to Spot. By eight o'clock, he was currycombed to a glossy black hue, his mane and fringe trimmed and his hoofs polished. Only then did Phoeba lock herself in the washhouse – and stayed there half an hour. She stepped into the kitchen dressed and ready in her blue frock with her best hat, her hair looped in a loose nape coil that draped around her bow-tie collar. ‘By Jove, Phoeba,' said Robert, who wore his small suit and pudding-bowl hat, ‘we'll lose you today as well.'

Maude looked like a frilly barrel under a massive hat. It was almost a yard wide and so laden with satin and feathers that the brim drooped and touched her high Juliette sleeves.

‘When you make an effort, Phoeba, you can actually look quite pretty. Is that strawberry water on your lips?'

‘And I have scent behind my ears.' Her face had dulled to a more agreeable shade of rash and she felt quite beautiful.

Lilith emerged from Maude's bedroom, pale and trembling. Her skirt was hemmed to the new length to reveal her white shoes and stockings. Her hat was also very modern – white, low over her head, its oval brim reaching out to her shoulders while pink roses crowded the hatband. She was all pastel and creamy with brilliant blue eyes, and she clutched a bouquet of gum flowers and bottlebrush, roses and fern leaves.

She looked truly lovely, so Phoeba told her so.

‘You know, Phoeba,' said Lilith, ‘you have never once, not ever, said anything nice to me. You have disliked me for as long as I can remember. It's in the tone of your voice.' Phoeba was about to say that that wasn't at all true, but realised it probably was. ‘I have always had to sleep with the lamp turned up.'

‘You had no trouble sleeping; you snored,' said Phoeba. ‘And why shouldn't I read?'

‘You don't think of others as much as you suppose, Phoeba. You like everything your way but you think that you don't: at least I'm honest about myself. You never let me ride your big fat horse and you never let me drive the sulky. You never played with me or let me be friends with Hadley or Henrietta—'

‘We didn't like playing at mothers and fathers—'

‘How do you know they didn't? You never let them. Mother has been my only friend.'

‘Now, now,' said Maude, fussing with Lilith's bouquet. ‘We won't cause a scene today. You're just different to each other, that's all. Margaret and I are unalike, and tragedy forced us to be good sisters.'

‘Which brings me to the subject of sulkies,' said Robert, taking a penny from his pocket. ‘It would be an inconvenient day for both of us to die in the manner of your parents, Maude, and it would look bad for Marius if he lost another bride. So let's flip a coin to see who gets to go with Spot.'

‘Heads,' said Lilith, winning herself the seat next to Robert in the sulky with Spot. Hadley drove the Hampden into the yard right on time, helped Phoeba heave Maude into the front seat and they followed, travelling via Bay View to collect Margaret from the siding.

Spot gave a superior sideways glance to the ducks as he stepped proudly through the gate, the shiniest horse with the most sparkling sulky in the area, and the Crupp convoy travelled – slowly so as not to cause dust – without incident all the way to the intersection, where they turned towards Overton. Then Spot stopped dead and wrenched his head, stepping sideways and trying to turn around.

‘No!' shrieked Phoeba from the Hampden.

Robert leaned back on the reins. ‘Not the dam, Spot, not today.'

Lilith sat grim-faced and frozen next to him: the dam was low, the banks slimy and the sulky would bog up to its axle and sink, the bridal white turning putrid with mud. Spot dug his shoes into the ground and groaned, the metal wheel rims twisting in the dirt as he dragged them, inch by inch, and Robert battled all the way with the brake handle calling, ‘No Spot, bad horse.' But Spot wasn't heading for the dam; he was trying to get closer to the signpost.

Phoeba leapt from the Hampden and grabbed Spot's bridle, and there in the middle of the intersection, slumped on her carpetbag and hidden by the thistle bushes that surrounded the Mount Hopeless sign, was Aunt Margaret, weeping. Her smart new purple jacket and slim, striped skirt were flecked with thistle spikes and her bowler hat was cast aside. Her nose was mahogany and her mouth was dry and stuck together. She couldn't seem to get her words out.

Maude said looked down from the Hampden, rolled her eyes and said, ‘Tsk.'

Lilith cried, ‘I haven't got time for this.'

‘Margaret, old thing,' said Robert, ‘this is supposed to be a happy day.'

Phoeba knelt down in the sharp thistles next to her bony old aunt, put her arms around her quaking shoulders and said, ‘Ashley?' and Aunt Margaret brayed like a mule.

‘Chin up, Aunt Margaret,' said Hadley, helping her into the Hampden – she was the only aunty Hadley had ever encountered. He stopped beside the water tank at Overton so Phoeba could press a cold, wet handkerchief to her aunt's dry, burning cheeks.

It was a wedding without much ceremony – no grand entrances, no gasps of wonder. Henrietta and the Tittertons arrived at the same time as the vicar; Mr and Mrs Overton appeared with Marius. And they all stood on the lovely carpet – surrounded by crystal decanters and mahogany mantel mirrors, the upholstered drawing room suite (ten piece), the vases and exotic flowers, and the sumptuous pot plants that curled from pot stands and hung from the walls. Lilith became Mrs Marius Overton of Overton. Maude used her best accent throughout – and didn't seem to notice that Mrs Overton spoke to none of them, didn't even look at Phoeba's face to see how it was mending. Phoeba drank three glasses of sparkling wine and wondered if Lilith would inherit the big, black pearls threaded through Mrs Overton's bun, or the matching pearls that dangled from a belt slung loosely around her waist. Perhaps the diamond on her wedding finger and its matching drop earrings. Mrs Overton's décolleté, powdered and painted with faint blue lines to give it a delicate hue, was too low for someone of her age, thought Phoeba, and her wrists were heavy with girlish gold bangles and bracelets. Perhaps Lilith's daughter would inherit them?

It could have been the wine, but Phoeba allowed herself to believe that all was well. This was the way it would be. As the remaining single girl, as the spinster, she was bound to help her mother, help her father – she was released from the need for marriage. She took another sip: her future was resolved. She would be able to stay at Mount Hope, free. It would do very nicely.

Still, she couldn't help imagining Rudolph Steel coming down the staircase at the big house, or working behind the heavy closed doors, and she glanced at the gilt mirrors now and then just in case they reflected him. When he finally did step out of the shadows, looking very European in a mid-length vicuna suit with silk trim, Phoeba's happy freedom dissolved: she was like a jittery country girl in a hand-made dress. He shook Marius's hand and placed a kiss on Lilith's cheek. ‘Congratulations.'