The Lace Balcony (39 page)

At the side entrance to the stables Felix came to a sharp halt, shocked by feelings totally alien to his nature.
What's happening to me? God forgive me. Am I now driven by nothing but lust for this girl? I want to hide her away from the world and roger her night and day. The truth is I don't want to raise her up to
my
level. I want to bring myself down to
hers!

Appalled by his gloriously decadent images of Vianna . . . the naked mermaid swishing her tail . . . Bonnard's notorious painting of Venus . . . he forced himself to close off his mind to them.

Adjusting his stock, he brushed the shoulders of his frockcoat and ascended the ladder to the loft with as much dignity as he could muster. His good intentions evaporated at the sight of Vianna seated on the balcony, sketching in her ‘diary'.

Demurely dressed in a plain, high-necked gown, her hair neatly coiled at the nape of her neck, she looked up at him with such a sweet, wistful smile of welcome she might well have been mistaken for a Methodist Sunday school teacher.

Yet in Felix's eyes she was instantly transformed into that wanton, half-naked mermaid . . . the Lorelei . . . beckoning him to come to her . . . to drown in her arms . . .

He made a courteous bow. ‘I trust I find you well rested, Vianna?'

‘I am well cared for by Jane Quayle, but I'm somewhat short of sleep. It is difficult to adjust to this place after Severin House. I'm unused to the sound of kookaburras, and roosters crowing at dawn.'

‘Hardly surprising. A groom's loft is hardly fitting accommodation for a lady used to luxury and the finer things of life.'

‘How idealistic you are Felix, you see everyone in the best possible light.'

Felix averted his eyes.
You wouldn't think so if you could read my thoughts.

‘I have no wish to pressure you, Vianna, but I have in readiness for your approval a house built on the lines of a fine English country house. You'll find
Mookaboola
far more to your taste. The name . . . ? It's an Aboriginal word that roughly translates as ‘meeting of the waters', an apt description given its situation near the junction of the Parramatta and Lane Cove Rivers. It is only accessible by waterman's barge. I would welcome the chance to escort you there, to see if it pleases you?'

‘You are most kind, Felix. And patient.'

Patient? Far from it, I'm desperate to bed you.

Vianna caught his surprise at the copy of Mansfield Park on a side table. ‘Wanda, my lady's maid, managed to rescue that along with a box of my clothes. I only hope I will find her again. She is more a sister to me than a servant.' Vianna sighed. ‘At least I now possess one remaining ballgown – though it's unlikely I'll ever have the opportunity to wear it in public.'

Felix seized upon the heaven-sent cue. ‘I'm sure there'll be many balls and assemblies in your future, Vianna. I shall see to it. I must attend a ball Saturday next at Government House, no doubt a boring formal affair but needs must.' He hesitated, selecting his words with care. ‘I regret I am unable to ask you to accompany me on this occasion – it is strictly by invitation only.'

‘Of course. In the eyes of colonial ladies, courtesans are undesirable aliens.' She added lightly, ‘Thank heavens not all gentlemen see me in the same light.'

Felix was chastened by the innuendo in her voice. ‘It will not always be thus, Vianna. There are gentlemen in England, even some who sit in the House of Lords, who married their mistresses. The times are changing slowly, but it is in our favour.'

That's as close as I can get to the suggestion of marriage without making a formal proposal.

He was suddenly fired by an idea so lucid it stunned him. ‘I have also been invited to visit the Government Observatory. Would you care to accompany me to explore the Milky Way through a very powerful telescope? We could dine
al fresco
by the river. Get to know each other away from – everyone.'

She must know I mean Mungo. But damn it all, I have to be alone with her to consolidate our arrangement.

Vianna hesitated. ‘A lovely idea, Felix, but I am unused to being seen in public without my lady's maid. And there's enough gossip about me already. I know just how much you value your family name.'

It seemed her eyes were pleading for something she was too proud to name.

‘If I organise a servant to accompany us, will you grant me your company?'

‘I'd love to but I only have one good day dress. Would that be grand enough?'

‘Perfect.' He tried to sound casual to avoid the taint of bribery. ‘Whenever you wish, I shall arrange for you to visit the best dressmakers to replace your wardrobe.'

The sound of Jane's voice rose from the bottom of the stairs, the reminder it was time for Vianna to depart, so Felix leapt to his feet and kissed her extended hand.

He whispered his parting advice. ‘Say nothing to Jane Quayle – or anyone else until – I've confirmed the arrangements.'

Felix descended the ladder, smiling so broadly at Mungo's mother in passing that the servant's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

The lightness in his step echoed his mood as he returned to the house.

The timing is perfect with Mungo away. All I need is a servant that Mother won't notice is missing. Of course! Cook's daughter. Young Molly isn't even officially one of our servants. I'll have Vianna all to myself at the Observatory, gazing at the stars, enthralling her with romantic legends.

Felix ceased his struggles and allowed his mind to wander in glorious daydreams. On reaching the house he turned to see Vianna and Jane Quayle outlined at the head of the alleyway. He glimpsed
the head of a frisky pony waiting to draw the pony cart to their destination.

If Vianna turns back to look at me, I'll take it as a sign she's mine.

Felix held his breath. Vianna seemed to hesitate then looked back over her shoulder with a wicked little smile and a slight wave of her gloved hand.

Even when dressed like a Sunday school teacher, Vianna Francis was the living embodiment of a man's carnal fantasies.

Mungo drew up the L'Estranges' pony cart in front of the iron gate that opened up onto Little Rockingham street, just long enough for him to glimpse Felix's receding figure en route to the main house.

Framed by the archway, Vianna and Jane Quayle stood waiting, shielded by parasols so flimsy they were but a token gesture to protect their English complexions from the midday sun. In Mungo's eyes the two women he loved looked as light and ephemeral as two bright butterflies.

He leapt down from the driver's seat to assist them to take their places on the little benches each side of the cart. ‘Where to, ladies? Your wish is my command.'

His mother took charge. ‘First stop at the cobbler's store. Then Macquarie Street. Dr Gordon's new surgery – I'm sure you know where to find him,' she said sagely, having been party to the details of the abduction saga after the event.

‘I also have an appointment,' Vianna added lightly. ‘Don't worry, it's nothing contagious.'

Jane cut in to make her point. ‘Which means, Mungo, you can deliver your
urgent
parcel and return for us in an hour or so.'

She glanced meaningfully at the material protruding from Mungo's hastily wrapped parcel. ‘I trust no
real
policeman will be demoted due to your shenanigans.'

‘You can count on me to set things right, Mam.'

‘That would be a red letter day,' she said, but there was a smile in her voice.

Light of heart, Mungo began whistling one of the Robbie Burns songs he had learned from Sandy at Moreton Bay, but chose not to sing the lyrics, which he enjoyed but considered a bit risqué for a woman's ears.

In front of the cobbler's store, Mungo apologised. ‘I'd go in myself, Mam, but this Welsh pony's a bit shy of traffic. She might take it into her head to bolt.'

Jane Quayle gave him a knowing look and climbed down from the wagon.

‘Drive around the block. My business won't take more than a few minutes.'

The moment she disappeared inside the store, Mungo flicked the reins and drove off. He made a rapid decision. ‘Tomorrow I'm honouring my promise to you, Vianna.'

‘Which promise is that? To make your fortune? Please don't bother on my account,' she said with ambiguous sweetness.

Mungo was not to be deterred.
Felix is pretending to be busy being father's dutiful son. But those papers I found on his desk prove what he's up to. All that expensive furniture he's ordered from Lyons's auction house is to set Vianna up in style on father's Mookaboola estate. I've got to give her something Felix can't.

‘I'm going to teach you to read. Tomorrow we start your lessons. We'll work together for an hour each day. You can practice the alphabet on a slate. In no time you'll be writing to Governor Darling telling him how to run the Colony.'

Her smile was wistful. ‘You mean well, but you're wasting your time, Mungo. I don't have the kind of mind that can handle book learning. I was advised to stick to what I do best.' She added quickly, ‘I mean, my singing.'

‘Only an eedjit would tell you that. You have a bright, perceptive mind, Vianna, you can learn anything you set your mind to. And I'm a great teacher – I never give up on anything or anyone. So it's a pact, right?'

She looked distressed. ‘It's hopeless, Mungo. I was born dumb. I can't even sort out individual letters of the alphabet – they all seem to race around in my head like a pack of wild horses. Yet children learn and Wanda reads and writes perfectly.'

‘That's 'cos someone loved her enough to teach her. Now you've got
me.'

His glance strayed to her lips and he was damned sure his hunger to kiss her was written all over his face.

‘Come on, girl. Give it a go. I promise after each lesson I'll read you a chapter of
Mansfield Park.
It's a very romantic story. The heroine Fanny is a poor ten-year-old girl who becomes the ward of
a wealthy uncle. She faces all kinds of problems before she gets her man. How's that for an offer? You'd be nuts to refuse it.'

I've only read the first few pages but that should be enough to hook her. I can't imagine Jane Austen leaving any heroine high and dry on the shelf.

The sound of Vianna's childlike laughter warmed him. ‘Mungo Quayle, you know just how to seduce a woman. But with words only. No further, understand!'

Mungo took his eyes off the road to shake her hand in a gentlemen's agreement, but retained it so long she cried, ‘Look out!' There was barely time enough to steer the pony out of the path of the bullock train bearing down on them.

After collecting his mother he deposited them both in front of the Macquarie Street address that was hung with a half-dozen surgeons' brass plates, then drove off to the Watch House. He returned the young constable's uniforms, his apology for the delay sweetened by a bottle of whisky from his father's cellar.

Next port of call was Müller's Printing Store.
If you want a perfect replica you can trust an old lag transported for fraud. But Harry's dead respectable now. I'll have to talk fast to convince him I came by this legitimately.

‘Good day to you, Harry. I've got a special, urgent job for you. I need a copy of this invitation to the Governor's Ball – but with a blank space so I can write in my granny's name. She's confined to a wheelchair. It would make her so happy to skite to her old cronies she's on the Governor's guest list.'

Harry Müller looked warily at the gilt-edged card embossed with the Governor's coat of arms. ‘It says here it's Felix L'Estrange who's been invited.'

‘Yeah. He's the bloke I work with. Heart of gold. It was his idea – to please my granny. What do you reckon? Can you do it? Or is it beyond your expertise?'

Harry bridled at the suggestion. ‘Nothing I can't do. Ready by tomorrow.'

‘You're a genius, mate. How much do I owe you?'

‘For an old lady in a wheelchair – nothing. You're a grandson to be proud of.'

Mungo tried to hide his embarrassment, and determined to pay him something.

My granny, whoever she was, is probably rolling in her grave at my lie. But all's fair in love and war – especially as I'm up against a rival half-brother for whom money's no object.

He parked the pony trap by the verge of the Government Domain. The magnificent open space was like an Antipodean Eden, designated by Governor Macquarie for public use for perpetuity. Just now it was bathed in heady sunshine and cooled by a westerly breeze coming straight off the harbour.

Stretched out on the grass and watching the clouds scud overhead, Mungo was mindful of keeping one eye on the building on the other side of Macquarie Street where his women were consulting Dr Alexander Gordon.

Despite Vianna's airy reassurance, Mungo wasn't convinced that her need for medical attention was trivial. It was also odd behaviour by his mother, given her conviction about the superior power of herbs, but Mungo knew better than to pry into delicate female territory.

Some women would have to be in a shroud before they let a doctor see them as God made them. I won't worry. Vianna and Mam look as frisky as a couple of fillies.

The time alone gave Mungo the chance to examine his new double life – the balancing act between working for his father and his private detective work searching for Daisy. He re-read the letter of response Albruna L'Estrange had passed on to him from the Matron of
Goulouga,
which confirmed that Severin's neglect of Daisy's school fees had led to her placement in foster care to a publican. They had no name or address for him.