The Shadow of the Lynx (14 page)

Rosella he had married Maybella. Then Adelaide was born and soon after that he was the master and everyone knew it. “

She turned to me, her eyes blazing with an emotion I could not quite understand.

“If I had been Uncle Harley’s daughter I should have been the one.”

“Perhaps he loved Maybella.”

She laughed.

“Loved Maybella! He despised Maybella. He showed that clearly. Poor Maybella, she went on adoring him until he killed her.”

“Killed her?”

“As sure as if he’d taken a gun and fired it at her. He was disappointed in Adelaide. He wanted a son. He wanted a son who would look exactly like himself. Poor Maybella nearly died having Adelaide.

I thought at the time that it was all the worry beforehand, but it was the same with the others. She wasn’t meant to bear children, and she was terrified. She had suffered so much with Adelaide. He called her Adelaide after Adelaide the town.

“A tribute to his new country,” he said. Perhaps he thought he had done rather well in it. Uncle Harley doted on Adelaide. He would have spoilt her but Maybella didn’t take much notice of the child; all her thoughts were for him. He had bewitched her all right. He knew it and he seemed to despise her for it. “

“You said he killed her.”

“So he did. Year after year there was a miscarriage. Oh, she was frightened. She was almost an invalid. But he wanted a son. He had taken over the management of the place—he, a convict. Seven years he had to serve and he served them as the master. Uncle Harley was like Maybella; they were afraid ;

of him; they never did anything without consulting him;

and he despised them both. He killed Maybella with her constant pregnancies. We all knew that she was not strong enough to endure them. Uncle Harley died six years after he had gone off to Sydney to bring back the servants. I remember his death-bed. We were there, Maybella, little Adelaide, myself and him. Uncle Harley believed in him until the end.

“Rosella’s yours, Maybella,” he said, “yours and Lynx’s. He’ll look after you and it. I leave you in good hands, daughter. And there’ll always be a home for you here, Jessie.” Then he died, believing that he had set everything in order. He didn’t know that within a year Maybella would be buried beside him. “

“But you said he killed her,” I insisted.

“She died when Stirung was ourn. 1 hated turn. I said to him: ” You’ll kill her! ” And he looked at me with those contemptuous eyes of his as though he considered me a fool. I loved Maybella. We were like sisters. When she died part of me died. I’ve heard people say that before. It’s a cliche, isn’t it? But it can be true, you know. And it was true for me. He killed Maybella because every year he forced her to try to bear the son he wanted, though she was more or less an invalid after Adelaide’s birth. But he was cruel and hard. He got his son, though. He got Stirling. And that was what finally killed Maybella. She would have been here today but for his determination to get a son.”

I was silent and she added: “He always gets what he wants. You’ll see.”

I thought of his dream of a golden fortune which he had never found and I said: “No one gets all they want.”

“He’ll ride over everyone to get what he wants. He’ll have it, in the end.”

“You hate him and yet …”

“I hate him for what he did to Maybella.”

“And yet …”

She turned on me fiercely.

“Why do you say that?”

“I feel that you don’t hate him all the time.”

She drew away from me as though she were afraid of me. Then she rose abruptly and left me.

November had come and it was sheep-shearing time. This was the climax of the year’s work. There was a great deal of activity and Stirling and his father were at the property every day. I went over with Adelaide to help with the meals. In the big stone-floored kitchen we worked hard, cooking for the men employed there and the extra hands who had been called in to help at this time. Often in the evenings sun downers would appear at the property and ask to stay the night in return for the help they would give next day. We were never sure how many we should have to cater for.

I found it all of great interest and different from the life we lived at Little Whiteladies.

One day when I was mixing dough and was alone in the kitchen Jacob Jagger came in. He leaned against the table watching me.

“You make a pretty picture. Miss Nora,” he said, his warm little eyes seeming to take in every part of me.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“I hope my oicau win ue as appreciated as the picture you mention.”

“I like a ready tongue,” he said.

’
like the kitchen to myself when I’m working. “Pert,” he said, ‘very pert. I like that, too. “p>

“Well, Mr. Jagger,” I returned, ‘all I can say is that you are easily pleased. “

“As a rule I’m not all that easy to please where females are concerned.”

“That’s unfortunate for you, considering the dearth of them in this part of the world. Now if you would kindly stand aside, I should be grateful. I have to get to the oven.”

He stood aside but would not go. I felt myself flushing as I opened the oven and took out the bread.

“My!” he said.

“That looks good. Almost as good as its maker. I’d like to see you in this kitchen more often. Miss Nora. If you’d like to see round the property at any time when there are not so many people around, you just ask me.”

I should probably ask Mr. Stirling,” I said, gazing intently’ at the brown loaves just from the oven.

“Well, good day, Mr. Jagger,” I went on pointedly.

“I am sure Mr. Herrick will be expecting you at the shearing.”

I had implied that I might even mention the fact to Mr. Herrick that he was chatting in the kitchen when I did not wish him to be there; and one mention of Lynx was enough to make him consider his action.

He bowed ironically and left.

When the shearing was over everyone seemed to remember” that Christmas would soon be upon us.

“We celebrate it here,” explained Adelaide, ‘in very much the same manner as it is celebrated at home. My father likes it to be so. “

She would make Christmas puddings and mincemeat al, though she would not be able to get all the ingredients which I were available in England. They would kill some of the best I of the fowls and although it would be high summer everything must be as much like England as possible. I was amused :

that Adelaide who had never seen England should refer to it as ‘home’, and that she should know so much about our customs. Even so, she was constantly asking me how this 1 and that was done; and I knew this was to please her father. I She and I took the Cobb’s coach into Melbourne and |

90 I

shopped there. That was quite an adventure because we stopped at The Lynx Hotel for two nights and one of the evenings we were taken to the Theatre Royal by Jack Bell, presumably on the instructions of Lynx. We took great pleasure in the shops and I spent some of the money which had been banked for me when my shares in the mine had been sold. I felt quite rich and bought presents—and for myself some strong boots and material to make dresses.

It was about a week after our return when I noticed that Mary, the maid who looked after me, was in distress. When she brought my hot water one morning, she tripped over the rug and went sprawling on the floor, spilling the water.

When it was cleared up, I said to her, “Something’s wrong, isn’t it, Mary?”

“Why, Miss Nora,” she said flushing painfuly, ‘whatever do you mean?

”

“You seem distraught. You’re constantly dropping things. Come and sit down and tell me what the trouble is.”

At this she did as I bid, and sitting down burst into floods of tears.

Then the story came out. She was going to have a baby and didn’t know what to do about it.

“Well,” I said, ‘that’s bad, but it’s not the end of the world.

Perhaps you can get married. “

That brought more tears. It wasn’t possible, it seemed. She murmured something about going away to bear her shame.

“It’s this man’s shame as well,” I said firmly.

“He can bear some of it, too.”

There was nothing to be done, she told me. She only hoped she would not be turned away.

“That shan’t happen,” I said fiercely, as though I were the mistress of the house and all decisions rested with me. I added that the first thing we must do was tell Adelaide.

Adelaide sighed when I told her.

“It happens far too often,” she said.

“But here we are, away from a town and these people are young and hot-blooded. They don’t think of consequences. Who is the man?”

“She won’t say.”

I was not surprised when Mary at length revealed that the man was Jacob Jagger.

“Will he marry her?” I asked Adelaide.

“I shouldn’t think so for a moment.”

“If your father insists, he will.”

9. “I don’t think he would insist.”

“I should have thought he might very well.”

“You don’t know him yet, Nora.”

It seemed I didn’t, for he did not take a very serious view >f the matter. Mary could have her child in the house and it would be brought up there. As for Jagger, naturally he didn’t want to marry a girl like Mary. He managed the property well and it wasn’t easy to get men; he had to amuse himself now and then. That was Lynx’s view.

I overheard some of the servants discussing it afterwards.

“Master was very mild over the affair,” said one.

“Couldn’t be ought else, considering …” was the answer.

I knew that meant his own conduct was not exemplary and I wondered why my father had sent me to live in such a household.

Mary was immensely relieved and almost happy. I asked her whether she would have liked to marry the father of her child.

“God forbid. Miss Nora,” she said.

“But you must have liked him … once.”

“I never did. He frightened the life out of me.”

“But…”

“You’re wondering why I did. Miss. Well, he sort of cornered me, and I didn’t have much say, come to think of it.”

I said.

“He couldn’t have forced you!”

“Well, I reckon that’s about it,” she replied.

T felt very uneasy.

Four

It seemed strange to wake up to a hot and sunny Christmas morning. A few days before, Stirling and I had ridden out into the bush and come back with a kind of mistletoe which was a parasite on the gum trees.

It wasn’t quite like our mistletoe at home, but it served. We hung some over the door and some in the middle of the room. When we had finished Stirling kissed me beneath it.

“May it be the first of many Christmases in Australia,” he said.

“What if your father struck gold?” I demanded.

“Then we should all be transported, lock, stick and barrel, to England.” He didn’t answer that and I knew he didn’t want to think of leaving.

We had dinner in the middle of the day and I spent most of the morning in the kitchen with Adelaide. We cooked the chickens while the plum pudding steamed away in a saucepan; the heat was great. I went outside to get a breath of fresh air, but it was as hot outside as in the kitchen. I stood for a moment looking at the flowering gums and reminding myself that this time last year I was at Danesworth House growing more and more anxious because I had not heard from my father.

A great deal had happened in a short time.

Adelaide came out and said, “The passion fruit is ready for picking.

Should I pick now? ” She answered herse^f.

“No. It would spoil the illusion and wouldn’t be a bit like Christmas at home.”

It was a big party for Christmas. Lynx sat at the head of the table and I retained my seat on his left hand, Stirling opposite as we had sat since the first night. Several men from the property and the mine were there. Jack Bell was busy at the hotel so he did not join us. I had avoided looking at Jacob Jagger since the Mary incident. If he had been in love with her and she with him I should have felt differently.

I kept thinking of Mary’s description of being ‘cornered’. I knew that he constantly looked my way, that he was always endeavouring to make me speak or smile at him. This I refused to do. The man disgusted me.

One day I would speak to Stirling about him. Across the table my eyes met those of Stirling, and he smiled at me with such pleasure that I glowed with happiness.

It was a pleasant meal. Lynx was in a benevolent mood;

it was clear that he enjoyed presiding over his table, which might have been in an English country house. Mary brought in the Christmas pudding and brandy was poured over it before it was set alight. It tasted good.

We were drowsing over our port when there was a commotion in the kitchen followed by the sound of raised voices and someone crying:

“Let me see him. Or let me see Miss Adelaide.”

Adelaide had turned white; she rose and went out. In a short time she returned. Lynx said: “What is it?”

“It’s the Lambs,” replied Adelaide.

“They’ve come back.”

.

“They want to come back into the house.”

“They want to come back! I thought they went after gold.

“They did … but they’re back.”

“Without the fortune they were going to make?”

“They’re in a pitiable state,” said Adelaide.

“I won’t have them back,” retorted Lynx coldly.

I tried to catch his eye but he was not looking at me.

“Perhaps …” began Adelaide.

“Tell them to go. I don’t take people back into this house once they have run away.”

Adelaide turned. I rose in my chair.

“They might be hungry,” I said.

Lynx’s steely gaze was on me.

“They went to make a fortune. It’s no business of mine if they failed. When they left this house they left it for ever.”

Adelaide went out and I sat down dumbly. The joy of Christmas had gone for me.

When Stirling and I rode out next day I was still thinking of the Lambs.

“It was so cruel,” I said.

“And on Christmas Day.”