Wild Lands (7 page)

‘It is a pity you have made this choice, Kate. The world is a harsh place for a single woman.'

‘I thank you for the efforts you have gone to on my behalf, Reverend.'

‘You are fortunate. Mr Jonas Kable is one of the leading men of the colony.'

It was not surprising that the Reverend had gone to the trouble of escorting her personally to the Kable farm. He'd told Kate that Mr Kable had grown rich on the back of supplying wheat to the colony, and sheep and cattle added to an already handsome income. Reverend Horsley was one for making the best of his connections and a cousin of the Kables had been instrumental in obtaining a
place for Kate in their household. She gathered the Reverend now hoped for continued association, an endowment perhaps, for his place of worship was in much need of repairs. Kate imagined a yearly stipend to add to his earnings would do much to ensure his continuing comfort.

‘You are learned enough to fulfil the role of companion to Mrs Kable, although I fear your musical accomplishments are somewhat lacking.'

‘Less than a mile now.' The driver pointed to a tree. The bark was marked by deep scarring, which extended some eight feet in length, its width reaching across the breadth of the trunk.

‘A native canoe, I would imagine,' the Reverend explained.

Kate's eyes widened. ‘Natives here?'

‘Well, of course. What did you think, that we'd wiped them out? Yes, well your mother was prone to such moments of female ignorance. May her soul rest in peace. Amen.'

Kate looked to the hills. The building of a road across the range had been completed over twenty years ago. During that time settlers had moved further westward, and the local Aboriginals fought and had apparently been brought to heel. ‘I thought most had moved further out beyond the mountains.'

‘A people should know when they're conquered,' was the Reverend's oblique reply. ‘Count yourself lucky, Kate. The mountains are a buffer from the vast wilds on the other side.'

The thought of all that immeasurable space stretching towards a setting sun intrigued Kate. ‘What's out there?'

‘Natives, escaped convicts, bushrangers. I pity a man who must travel to the beyonds.'

Kate could only be grateful that the Kable farm lay within the boundaries of civilised society.

They crossed a narrow gully at a snail's pace. A trickle of water ran across a pile of smooth rocks, which jolted the dray sideways, nearly throwing Kate to the floor. The Reverend tutted as Kate
straightened her skirts. The queasy sensation in her stomach grew. She was beginning to feel short of breath. Ten years had passed since her father's death and now her life was to be changed yet again, and always it was death that so utterly altered the threads of her life.

The dray bounced dangerously from left to right before resuming a steady gait. A number of timber buildings were visible through the trees, houses for convicts, a farrier's workshop and, beyond this clutch of outbuildings, the dome of a smokehouse. The white-washed walls of a sturdy home appeared amidst scattered trees. Smoke curled from the stone chimney and cattle and sheep were scattered about the park-like surrounds. There were shepherds tending to the livestock and further afield wheat swayed beneath a winter breeze. The Kables, as free settlers, had been assigned numerous convicts and as the carriage mounted the slight hill these men became more distinctive in their waistcoats of yellow and grey cloth, coarse woollen jackets and pants.

‘Mr Jonas Kable keeps a fine table. I believe Governor Macquarie was a guest in the early days. Of course since then any person of import seeks to break bread with the family although Mrs Kable is more inclined to entertainments in their Sydney residence.'

As they grew closer a separate kitchen with an adjoining covered walkway could be seen on the western side of the house and two young children were running through a grove of lemon and orange trees, a servant in attendance. Kate kept a smile from forming on her lips. This was simply the grandest place she'd ever been to.

The Reverend brushed the dust of their travels from his clothing and rubbed a forefinger briskly across his teeth.

Considering everything that had passed between them, the Reverend had done right by her in the end. Perhaps it was in deference to the regard in which he held her mother. Or had Kate underestimated the man's propensity for goodness? Whatever the
reason, Kate thanked the man opposite her with genuine gratitude. The dray jolted to a stop.

‘Perhaps you may grow to have your mother's qualities,' Reverend Horsley replied, stepping down from the cart and placing a hand briefly to his lower back. ‘Obedience and humility are the virtues expected of the fairer sex, Kate.' He extended a hand to her. ‘Either way I am sure your new role will be an enlightening experience.'

Kate took his arm and set foot on the grounds of her new home. The Reverend kept her hand in his, the pressure of his grip increasing. ‘I notice you are wearing one of your mother's gowns. One of a number I gave her. It becomes you.'

‘You're hurting me.'

‘Am I?' He released her immediately. ‘How careless.'

Kate rubbed at the red mark on her wrist. She would be pleased to see the last of him.

Before them stood a fine colonial bungalow of red brick washed with lime. There were French doors in place of windows, deep timber verandahs with fine lattice-work and a trailing vine at the western end. The building had the symmetrical qualities of the Governor's residence and a low-pitched roof of the type said to be favoured in India. There was no doubt in Kate's mind that she was entering the world of the rich and the progressive.

The driver dragged Kate's trunk from the rear of the dray. Everything she owned, including the few possessions of her mother's, landed with a thud on the ground. The front door swung open. A pointy-nosed convict stood on the threshold. The woman, aged in her thirties, was scarred by the pox, but it was the servant's tapping foot that caught Kate's attention. ‘You be the Reverend Horsley and the new girl.' Her expression never altered as she turned her attention to the Irish driver, giving the man a withering look. ‘You should have come round the back.' The woman stuck her hands on her hips.

‘I brought the Father with me, I did,' he argued. ‘What's a person to do? Drop one at the front and the other out back? One stop at either end was the instruction, girl, and that's what I done.'

Ignoring the driver's remarks, the maid beckoned to them. ‘Well, come on then. The Missus is expecting you.' She looked Kate up and down. ‘And you're a half-hour late.'

Kate trailed the Reverend into the entrance hall. There was just enough time given for hats and travelling cloaks to be removed and no time to study the oil portraits of the three members of the English gentry who lined the passageway, although Kate was aware of their querying gaze. No dirt or hewn timber met her heeled leather shoes. Instead the timber boards were covered with thick canvas, painted in black and cream squares to resemble a marble floor. There were two doors on either side of the hall and a line of servant bells, each differing in size and tone according to room, were suspended from one side of the hall. One began to tinkle.

The maid knocked once on a door and announced them.

Kate found herself standing in the grandest room possible. The walls were pale yellow, the windows hung with striking floral material with bright contrasts of blue, orange, green and red and the furniture was simply exquisite. Twin rosewood sofas were positioned near a brightly woven rug opposite a large fireplace. There were a number of fine pieces of furniture, sideboards, a sewing table and chairs, while a large vase of native flowers and grasses was arranged on the breakfast table, which was placed close to the French window and the natural light.

‘So then, Jelly-belly, they have arrived, very good. You can serve tea.' Mrs Kable closed the sheet music and, having dismissed the maid, turned from where she sat before a small piano. She studied them both, one at a time, slowly. It was a practised gesture. Kate
imagined their hostess counting to ten, but although Kate was savvy to the older woman's intent towards causing discomfort, it had the desired effect.

‘Reverend Horsley, welcome.' The piano was quite unadorned except for a large panel of scarlet material above the keys, which was gathered prettily to meet in the middle at a rosette. In contrast, on rising, Mrs Kable quite outshone her surrounds. Aged in her early forties her pale skin, brown hair and short stature were emphasised by a mustard gown with sloping shoulders and a narrow waist that tapered to a small point at the front before layers of skirts and petticoats floated over full hips. Every feminine curve was accentuated by the cut and cream lace trim.

‘And you must be Miss Carter,' Mrs Kable said politely. ‘Do sit, my dear, I am only too aware how tiring that journey can be. You experienced no problems, I hope. We never know when the natives may appear but thankfully this area is becoming more settled and their numbers have been dwindling. And you, Reverend Horsley, having to return in the morning, you will be quite exhausted.'

The Reverend's smile, one much used for widows at funerals, was replaced by a pulpit glare. Sitting stiffly on one of the sofas, he crossed his legs. By the size of his travelling bag it was clear that he'd expected to be invited to stay for at least a few days. In the awkward silence the carriage clock on the mantelpiece chimed. They were interrupted by the maid, who sat a tea-tray before them on a table. The porcelain china rattled noisily and the girl apologised profusely and curtsied before leaving the room.

‘Convicts,' sighed Mrs Kable as she poured tea and offered both sugar and milk. ‘They can be wearing at times. Jelly-belly does her best, but, well … We've two new girls from the Female Factory at Parramatta, one of them has markedly fine needlepoint.' She took a sip of her tea. ‘You must sit with her, Miss Carter, and observe. She is a woman of sour disposition but her talent is quite remarkable.'

Kate looked at the creamy coloured tea, sipping it carefully. The flavour was wonderful and she savoured each mouthful. This was a home of import. Even the Reverend didn't serve milk as milking cows were a rarity. ‘I wanted to thank you, Mrs Kable.'

The woman shook her head, causing the movement of numerous ringlets. ‘It is my husband's doing. Initially I was not in agreement, it's the responsibility, I'm sure you understand. You will be a long way from the Reverend, and a young woman such as yourself, well, to be blunt, I consider it strange that you would wish to venture so far afield.'

Admittedly it had been somewhat of a journey to the Kable farm, however Kate was more than pleased to be here. ‘Sometimes one must travel in order to reach the appropriate end,' she answered, copying Mrs Kable's formality.

Mrs Kable peered over the rim of her cup. ‘She is quite schooled, isn't she?'

The Reverend merely nodded.

‘You should be seeking a suitable husband, raising a family. That is a woman's duty, after all, is it not?'

Kate bristled, her personal situation was not something that she considered to be for public discussion. ‘Some would say so.'

‘Some?' Their hostess gave a mock cough, held a handkerchief to her lips. ‘All would say so, my dear. Whomever has suggested otherwise is quite at odds with the way of the world. Such things can be unlearnt, can't they, Reverend Horsley?'

‘Indeed, Mrs Kable. All things are possible.' He turned in Kate's direction. ‘With time.'

‘Well, to the matter at hand. You are here in search of employ and although I am at odds with your acceptance of the role, I must think of my own family's needs at this time.'

Kate was at a loss at this comment. Did Mrs Kable believe her above the position of companion? If so, this was an auspicious start. She straightened her shoulders a little more. The Reverend dropped his gaze to the woven matting at his feet.

‘I more than most understand the benefit of companionship. And you, Miss Carter, are obviously a gentlewoman in spite of certain, shall we say, limitations.'

‘Limitations?' Kate repeated.

The woman ignored her. ‘The Reverend says you are a willing participant in this venture in spite of his offer to retain you in his employ.' Mrs Kable paused, as if seeking confirmation.

‘Most willing, yes,' Kate agreed, taking a sip of the hot drink and then gently placing the cup soundlessly on the saucer. Her mother would be proud.

Mrs Kable observed her carefully and made a clucking sound with her tongue. ‘Very well. As long as you are aware that if the situation does not suit you, Miss Carter, that it may be a good year, indeed longer, before you have the opportunity to leave. There is the question of travel and of course the difficulty of trying to obtain someone to replace you.'

The Reverend remarked on the weather and a brief discussion ensued as to the lack of rain.

‘Now, if we've finished …' The older woman moved to a corner of the room and tugged at the bell pull.