The Shadow of the Lynx (11 page)

We rode in silence for a while and then he said: “I think you have made a good impression on him.”

I was pleased but shrugged my shoulders to feign indifference.

7 think he expected me to bow three times and walk out backwards. “

“He doesn’t like subservience all the time ” Only some of the time?

”

“Only from those he considers should show it.”

“He’s a bit of a tyrant, a bit of a brigand—but I can understand your feelings for him a little more, now that I’ve seen him.”

“I knew you would. I knew you’d feel the same. I want you to, Nora.”

“It will depend on the way he treats me.”

That made him laugh. As we cantered over the ground and I felt the wind on my face I experienced again that feeling of happiness. He felt k too, I think, for he said: “Nora, I’m going to make you love this country. Ill take you into the bush;

we’ll camp out. It’s the only way if you want to see the country beyond where a coach can take you. I’ll show you how to boil a billy can for tea and how to make dampers and Johnny cakes on a camp fire.

”

“It sounds good. I should like it, I’m sure.”

tie was gi owing wnn pleasure.

“What did your father say about Jemmy?”

“He said if he’s prepared to work he can stay. If not. he’ll be sent packing.”

“Did you tell him I persuaded you?”

No. I let him think it was my idea. “

“Why? Because you thought it was rather weak of you to be persuaded by me?”

“I didn’t know how he was going to feel about your making such a decision.”

“I suppose, had he known it was my idea, he might have said he wouldn’t take in the boy.”

“He wouldn’t have turned him away.”

“Well then, you wanted him to like me and you didn’t want him to start off thinking I was domineering.”

“Perhaps. But I shall tell him later. It was just at first.”

“Stirling, you’re nice to me.”

“Of course I am. My father’s your guardian and I’m his deputy.”

We rode in silence for a mite or so. The eucalypts were thick about us; a startled kangaroo, baby in pouch, leaped across our path and then sat on her haunches, looking at us with curiosity. For the first time I saw the beautiful lyre bird, his fantastic tail spread out in all its glory. We pulled up, for he was perched on a tree fern not far off. As we halted he began to imitate the cries of other birds as though giving a performance for our benefit. While we remained stationary I noticed how blackened were the trunks of some of the eucalypts, and I pointed this out to Stirling, who told me they had been so rendered by fire. Then’he began to tell me about the terrible forest conflagrations which ravaged the country. I could have no conception of these until I saw one and he hoped I never would, though it seemed hardly likely that I would not if I stayed in Australia.

“Every living thing for miles around is in acute danger,” he told me.

“It is the most fearful tragic thing imaginable. There are dangers in this land, Nora, that you wouldn’t dream of.”

“I have thought of the dangers. Remember, my father died here.”

“Robbery with violence can happen anywhere.”

“Where there is greed,” I added.

“And here there is gold, and gold means greed.”

He called my attention to an emu which was running at

great speed along the path. I had never seen such a large bird;

it was about five feet high.

“You’re getting to know the land and its inhabitants,” said Stirling.

“First the family, then the wild life. Look at those trees. I reckon they’re all of three hundred feet high.”

They’re magnificent. More beautiful than all the gold in the world.

”

“They’re not all that benevolent. I’ve known a falling branch impale a man. Imagine one falling three or two hundred feet. It happens now and then. We call those branches widow-makers out here.”

I looked up at the tall trees and shuddered.

‘ “In the midst of life we are in death,” quoted Stirling half serious, half mocking.

I didn’t want this morning spoilt by talk of death so I whipped up Tansy and galloped off. Stirling came up behind and passed me. Then it happened. I had been aware all the morning that I was managing Tansy only because she was permitting me to do so. I heard a strange mocking laugh not far off;

perhaps Tansy heard it too, I don’t quite know what happened but suddenly I was sailing over her head. I had the sense to release the reins when I saw I was falling and luck was with me on that day. I was tossed into a heap of bush, growing up three or four feet from the ground; it was thick and strong enough to hold me. I was scratched and shocked but I was alive. For some moments I was bewildered, staring up at the sky, trying to grasp the bracken which scratched my hands and was breaking under my weight. Then I heard again that mocking laughter and in my somewhat bemused state I half believed that Lynx was somewhere at hand where he could witness and enjoy my plight.

I heard Stirling calling me; and there he was, extricating me from the bush, an expression of great concern on his face.

He said: “Can you stand?”

“Yes … but my ankle hurts.”

“Sit down,” he commanded, and I sat on the grass while he knelt beside me.

He gently pulled off my boot. My ankle was swollen.

“Sprained no doubt,” he said.

“What happened?”

Where’s Tansy? “

“I saw her making off. She’ll go home. She knows the way. But what, for heaven’s sake …?”

“Someone laughed and then 1 was in the bush.”

“Laughed! Who?”

“I don’t know. It was so close. I think it frightened Tansy and so she threw me.”

“We’d better get back,” he said.

“We’ll have to see what damage is done. I’ll take you on Weston.” He whistled and Weston came obediently. As he helped me to mount I heard the laughter again—one burst followed by another.

There! “

“Those are birds. The old kookaburras. You’ll have to get used to their laughter for you’ll hear it often enough.”

So I was carried ignobly home to find that Tansy had already returned.

I had been extremely fortunate to have emerged with nothing more than a few bruises and a sprained ankle, but I was sick with shame wondering what Lynx would say when he heard of my adventure.

Adelaide greeted us with relief.

T heard that Tansy had come home and that you rode her this morning.

”

Her voice was faintly reproachful. Hadn’t her father said I should ride Blundell?

“She was all right until she was startled,” I explained.

“I managed her all right until then.”

Adelaide was concerned, but I discovered that accidents here were not treated with the same anxiety as they would be at home, because here in the bush they were so frequent. Adelaide applied hot and cold compresses, telling me that she had studied first aid as it was often necessary since there could be a delay of two or three days before a doctor arrived. She made me drink a cup of hot sweet tea and said I must keep my weight off my ankle for the next day or so.

I felt stupid and ashamed of myself but I was relieved that the horse had come home. I lay on a couch in Adelaide’s sitting-room. I should be quiet for a while, she said; and when I felt a little recovered from my shock I could read or perhaps do some sewing. There was always a great deal to be done at Whiteladies.

I lay by the open window and thought of how foolish I had been to have ridden a horse which was far too good for me.

“Pride goeth before a fall,” Miss Emily had said often enough; and for once I had to admit that she was right.

Then I heard his voice below my window.

“So she rode Tansy after all and came a cropper. Serve her

right. At least she shows more spirit than sense. “

I fancied there was a faint note of approval in his voice and I exulted in it.

I lay there idly. What an end to my first day at Whiteladies—Little Whiteladies, as I had christened it, for there could only be one true Whiteladies.

Somewhere in the garden I heard the laughter of the kookaburras, mocking me, it seemed.

Adelaide would not allow me to put my foot to the ground for the next three days, so I spent the time in her sitting-room. Stirling carried me to my bedroom every night. Both Adelaide and Stirling were determined to look after me, and show me that they welcomed me as their young sister. I did some sewing for Adelaide. This consisted of making garments for the numerous people who worked in the house. There were several small cottages in the grounds where these people lived and I had already discovered that there were several children.

“My father likes them all to be treated as though they are part of the family,” she said; and she looked at me quickly to see what effect that remark had had on me. I didn’t understand then but it gradually dawned on me that many of the children had been fathered by Lynx.

Later it became a habit of mine to look for his features. I found them often. It was understandable. Lynx was virile in every sense. He was not the sort of man to lead the existence of a monk. He took these young women according to his whim and no one thought the worse of him for it. I never found those startling blue eyes anywhere else. Even Stirling—the legitimate heir-had not inherited those.

During those days Stirling called in often to see me. I told him I was ashamed of what had happened and hoped Tansy had suffered no harm.

“It’s nothing,” he reassured me.

“It’s better to be bold than scared out here.” And I was grateful to them for making light of my adventure. I was growing fond of Adelaide, whom I had already begun to regard as my kindly elder sister. She brought me trays with tea and scones served just as they were at home; and there was peach jam and passion fruit jelly which she had made herself.

Those days appeared strange after all that had gone before

—so quiet and peaceful. I felt that I had come to a little oasis, but I knew that my stay there would be only temporary. Lynx did not come to see me. I realized that that would be expecting too much.

Stirling’s visits were mainly in the evenings. He was away most of the day at the mine, making up for lost time, he told me. I heard a lot of talk about the mine and longed to see it, and yet in a way I didn’t want to. I felt it would bring back memories of my father too vividly.

Mary, the maid, helped me dress in the mornings; she would bring me a breakfast tray and after that my hot water. She was shy and seemed afraid of something. I tried to discover of what but was not successful. Then Stirling would insist on carrying me to Adelaide’s sitting-room, which was unnecessary for I could easily hobble there.

All the same, I must admit I liked this attention; I liked the feel of his strong arms supporting me. He carried me so effortlessly, but I told him that this accentuating of my disability only called attention to my folly.

It was on the third day after my accident and I was lying on the sofa in Adelaide’s room stitching at a calico shirt, working diligently, feeling that this was one way of showing my penitence for being so foolish, when the door opened slightly and Jessica glided in. I felt a sudden shiver run down my back which could have been due to the wild look in her eyes and the noiseless manner in which she had entered the room.

“How are you?” she asked and drawing up a chair sat down near my couch. Imperceptibly I felt myself shrink away from her.

“I’m getting on very well, thanks,” I said.

“In fact I’m a bit of a fraud. I should really be walking about but Adelaide won’t hear of it.”

“There are other frauds about.” She smiled.

“And not far away from here either.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded conspiratorially.

“Has he been in to see you?”

I knew to whom she referred but I feigned not to do so.

“Who?” I asked.

“Him. The master.”

“No. I didn’t expect him.”

“He cares neither for God nor man,” she told me.

“You could have been killed on that horse and he wouldn’t have cared.”

SOL.

-D 73

“He did warn me not to ride Tansy, so it was entirely my own fault.”

“All he’d care about would be the horse.”

“Well, it’s a very fine horse.”

She turned those strangely wild eyes on me. They were brown and I could see the round staring pupils looking full at me.

“Valuable,” she whispered.

“He thinks of goods, property, gold. That’s what he cares about.”

“So do many people.”

She came closer to me and I felt trapped on my couch.

“But he cares more than anyone else. He’s quite ruthless, as we all find out when we get to know him. I found out. Maybella found out. My uncle found out. He came as nothing … nothing … a prisoner, a slave. Seven years’ transportation and in a year he was ruling us all.”

“He’s a very unusual man.”

“Unusual!” She laughed and her laughter reminded me of that of the kookaburras which I insisted had startled my horse.

“There has never been a man like him. I hope there never is another. Beware of the Lynx. He hypnotizes people. My uncle, Maybella … and look what happened to Maybella. He killed her.”

“Maybella. She was …?”

“He married her, didn’t he? Why? Did he want Maybella? Did he care that much for her?” She snapped her fingers.

“And what happened to Maybella, eh? Do you know?”

“I don’t,” I said, ‘but I should like to. “

The door opened and Adelaide came in. She frowned at Jessica. Then she said lightly: “Oh, there you are, Jessie. Just in time for a cup of coffee. I was making some for myself and Nora.”

She was carrying a tray with a crochet-bordered cloth. The coffee smelt delicious, but I wanted to hear what Jessica had to tell me and I knew she would not go on while Adelaide was there.

Adelaide set down the tray and briskly poured out the coffee.

“Plenty of milk, Nora,” she said.

“That’ll do you good. Here, Jessie. Just as you like it.”