Ghost Gum Valley (22 page)

‘Mate, I've been so uncouth you'd have been proud of me.'

‘So the plan worked? She dislikes you?'

‘Despises me! But the game isn't over yet. I can't betray a lady's confidence, of course. Let's just say I need to up the ante tonight to get me off the hook.'

‘What is she like? Pretty, innocent, malleable, a fool?'

Marmaduke rolled his eyes. ‘None of those. She's no beauty. As flat-chested as a boy. Prickly as a hedgehog. And so arrogant I suspect she believes the English rather than the Jews were God's chosen people.'

‘Good Lord, doesn't she have a single redeeming feature?'

Marmaduke considered the question. ‘Well, she does have
one
pretty green eye.'

Edwin choked on his wine. ‘
One
? What happened to the other?'

‘It's hidden under a black eye she copped in a brawl with Yankee whalers in The Rocks.'

Edwin was speechless until Marmaduke told him the whole Isabel saga except for one point. He worked his way around the hole in his narrative to avoid Isabel's confession of her lost virginity.

‘And last night when I took her to the Surry Hills to the Sign of the Lame Dog—'

‘You did
what
?'

‘All part of the plan, mate. I threw her in at the deep end of the seamy side of Sydney life to convince her I'm such an irredeemable libertine she has no option but to jilt me.'

‘Surely that must have worked.'

‘Not
quite.
There's the rub, mate. Isabel's got the worst English traits – arrogant superiority and a sarcastic tongue as sharp as a cut-throat razor. But the odd thing is she's also got the
best
English qualities. She's quite intrepid, even brave. Any other female would have turned on the waterworks after what she's copped since she landed here. But Isabel hasn't so much as shed a tear. And she has a surprising sense of adventure. There's something about her that intrigues me, mate. I can't put my finger on it. But it's possible she's the only female I've ever met who's dead honest – and
real.'

Edwin digested that carefully. ‘I see. So how do you plan to proceed with the jilting?'

‘I'll dine with her this evening in Garnet's private suite. I'll give her such a graphic account of my murderous duel it will shake her to the core.'

He paused to refill their glasses and kept his tone light. ‘Then after dinner I'll leave Isabel to cool her heels. I'm off to the Theatre Royal. This evening's star attraction is Josepha St John.' He added carelessly, ‘I'm taking her to supper after the performance.'

Edwin was ever cautious. ‘Does your actress friend know you have a fiancée?'

‘Of course. But the marriage farce will be broken off before sunset.'

Edwin looked dubious. ‘Good luck, my friend. Should I say, on both counts?'

‘Luck has nothing to do with it, mate. Strategic planning is everything. What's that British boast? “The English lose every battle – except the last.”'

‘In that case you'd better be on your guard, Marmaduke.
You
are a Currency Lad.
Isabel
is the one who is English!'

Chapter 15

Marmaduke felt buoyed by the prospect of the long, lusty night ahead of him – in bed with his mistress. It would be his reward after his final confrontation with his fiancée.

But just because I'll force the girl to jilt me tonight, there's no call to starve the poor thing – she's already as scrawny as a kitten.

Back at the Princess Alexandrina Hotel he headed straight for the kitchen to discuss with Emile the details for the dinner
á deux
he ordered to be sent up to Miss de Rolland's suite on the stroke of six.

‘That sounds perfect, Emile. And include a platter of your delicious
choux
pastries.'

In his chambers Marmaduke bathed and dressed in evening clothes cut in the latest London mode then went through his usual tussle to get his neck linen to sit right.

He had his schedule planned to the last minute. His decisive conversation with Isabel over dinner would still allow him ample time to depart for the Theatre Royal and his night with Josepha. But now for some odd reason his mind kept harking back to the pathetic image of Isabel wrapped in a bed sheet and trying to look dignified with one black eye. He was annoyed to feel an unaccustomed sense of responsibility.

At the door of Isabel's chambers he gave a perfunctory knock, turned the key and entered. And there she was, waiting for him, masked as if for a carnival.

Marmaduke was quite taken aback by the transformation. Isabel sat in a chair facing the door. The bodice of the sprigged muslin gown he had chosen fitted to perfection and although it pressed her boyish chest even flatter than Nature had endowed, he noted the demure curve of her breasts above the décolletage. Satin slippers peeped out beneath the belled skirt that revealed inches of lace petticoat, and her ankles. He realised this was not the action of a coquette. The length of her gown simply proved that she was several inches taller than the average English girl. How had all this escaped his notice last night?

Her hair was carefully coiled on the crown of her head but a careless lock escaped down one cheek. Her single undamaged eye glinted behind the domino-checked Italian mask but the camouflage only succeeded in drawing his eye to her funny little tip-tilted nose. And he was struck by the pretty curve of her mouth.

Her lips are naturally full. But just look at the poor chick! She's as nervous as hell. Keeps licking her lips with the tip of her tongue. God, how
young
she is
.

Despite his intention to continue his boorish Colonial performance, Marmaduke found himself saying, ‘How charming you look. I trust you're quite recovered from our race last night? I reckon you're the best jockey who's ever ridden me.'

Shit! She thinks that was deliberate innuendo.

Feeling himself beginning to sweat, he draped his jacket casually over the chair back.

‘I've ordered a number of dishes. English food or, if you're feeling adventurous, the French cuisine our chef hopes will tempt you.'

‘
Tempt
me? I'm hungry enough to eat—' Isabel clearly stopped short of the word horse and added, ‘whatever you've chosen. Your father's hotel is very elegant and modern.'

‘One of many he's collected in the years since he was transported.' He seized on this Heaven-sent cue to blacken the Gamble name. ‘Father made his reputation in the Colony as a swindling publican. Whenever cockies – that's our name for settlers from the backblocks – came to Sydney Town to blow their hard-earned pay, Father enticed them to bed down at his shanties and tote up their drinks on tab. After a few weeks of grog fever the cockies had run up bills they couldn't pay. The only way to avoid prison was to sign over the deeds to their bush properties. That's how Father began to amass his Gamble empire.'

Marmaduke waited for her horrified reaction. The mask did not betray her.

‘These days Garnet Gamble lives on the largest of his rural estates, Bloodwood Hall, leaving his business affairs in the hands of a team of administrators. He's always hiring and firing them, accusing them of fraud – which is pretty ironic coming from him!'

‘Do you help your father in his business?' Isabel asked.

Marmaduke raised one eyebrow. ‘I thought you ladies of Quality looked down your noses at us inferior
nouveau riche
who engage in trade.'

‘My de Rolland ancestors made their fortune from the slave trade, which the current generation lost in gambling and high living.
Your
father traded on human weakness.
My
ancestors traded in human flesh. Who are the greater villains?'

Despite himself, Marmaduke's respect for her shifted a notch higher. ‘You have a sharp tongue, Miss de Rolland, but I see you're also a realist. To answer your question, I refused to be financially dependent on my father. So my own financial activities are of a diverse, covert nature. I have a share in a cargo ship that trades with New Zealand and I'm the silent partner of an old Hebrew Emancipist – Josiah Mendoza.

‘He's an excellent watchmaker. Jos buys up quality second-hand jewellery and we don't ask awkward questions about the provenance. He taught me a lot about gemstones so I sometimes redesign pieces of dubious origin. It's taken for granted in Sydney that antiques and jewellery stolen in England find their way here. More easily disposed of because it's difficult to trace their origins.' He asked hopefully, ‘Does that shock you?'

Isabel gestured to his ruby ring. ‘No. But it does explain your interest in displaying your merchandise.'

‘Touché,' Marmaduke admitted.

Damn, just when I think I've got her stumped she hits me for six. She's not the silly little goose she seemed at first glance.

A door knock was followed by the entrance of two assigned housemaids, who set up a trolley of food on a white cloth on the table before they departed giggling and bobbing.

As Marmaduke lit the candles he registered the way Isabel licked her lips, betraying her hunger at the bounty of gourmet food. He felt an odd jolt of pity.

Poor little duck, I've never in my life known what it is to be hungry.

‘Allow me to serve you small portions of everything so that you can decide which dishes you prefer,' he said. He filled the wine glasses then raised his own in a toast. ‘To the land we live in.'

After he had placed several dishes before her, he attacked his own plate with gusto but paused, aware he was under observation.

‘Is something wrong, Isabel? You haven't touched a thing.'

‘I was wondering. Don't you say grace in a penal colony?'

Marmaduke dropped his knife and fork, annoyed to be reprimanded like a schoolboy.

‘I'm known to be an agnostic and a Philistine. But feel free to give the bearded Old Gentleman Upstairs a vote of thanks, if it pleases you.'

Isabel lowered her head and said softly, ‘Thank you, Lord, for the blessing of your bounty and for bringing me safely across all the oceans to this land of plenty.'

Marmaduke growled a hurried, ‘Amen.'
I'll keep the wine flowing not for the usual seduction but to discover her Achilles heel.

By the time Isabel had devoured three
choux
pastries they had also sunk the first bottle of champagne. Marmaduke saw that her pale cheeks were now flushed and her posture relaxed. The wine had freed her tongue. This was the perfect time to seize his chance.

‘Tell me frankly, Isabel, what's your first impression of the Colony?'

‘I thought there would be some semblance of English manners. I expected the worst and I've not been disappointed. But perhaps it's not fair to judge everyone by you, the first Colonial man I've met.'

Marmaduke felt a confused mixture of pleasure at her intense dislike of him and a jolt of irritation. ‘In what way have we failed to live up to your English standards of etiquette?'

She airily waved a hand as if there were far too many to count. ‘No English gentleman would remove his jacket or keep his hat on in a lady's presence. Or use vulgar terms that presumably belong to the convict class. And your table manners, well, the best I can say is you eat with more gusto than finesse. You could never hope to pass yourself off as an English gentleman.'

Despite the success of his performance Marmaduke felt unaccountably disconcerted, but he responded in an off-hand manner.

‘I asked for your opinion of my
country
but it seems I must personally stand trial. During my years based in London I had no wish to pass myself off as a counterfeit Englishman. It was more amusing to be what I am – a Colonial observer of the English class system.
I found English rural folk down-to-earth and hospitable – Nature's gentlemen. And the very best English aristocrats have such perfect, unaffected manners that they make everyone at all levels of Society feel at ease in their company.'

He refilled her glass and added casually, ‘I was impressed that no true English lady would embarrass a person of inferior rank by drawing attention to his social
faux pas
.'

Isabel turned bright pink. It was a long time since he had seen a woman blush.

She lowered her eyes. ‘You are clearly better qualified than I am to judge good manners, sir. I regret I have given you offence.'

‘As I do myself if I have hurt you,' he added quickly. ‘Now let's get to know the best and worst of each other, shall we? You've a right to know the dark side of my character. No doubt our London lawyers successfully hid the truth from your family's legal advisors.'

Marmaduke shepherded her to the sofa and placed the champagne within easy reach.

‘This morning you asked me in anger was there no girl in the Colony brave enough to walk down the aisle with me? A not unreasonable question that struck close to home.'

He crossed to the window as if to enjoy the breeze off the harbour but, in fact, to use the shadowy alcove to prevent her from reading his expression while he studied her.

‘When I was nineteen and had just completed my studies I became engaged to a young girl. To my inexperienced eyes she was a great beauty who had been transported for a crime sadly all too common. I knew she was a fallen woman but I treated her with full respect. To me she was an innocent victim of Society. My father thought otherwise. He forbade our marriage. When I threatened to elope with her, he signed permission for me to marry but refused to attend the ceremony. I waited at the altar for three hours. My bride never arrived. I was a mere schoolboy in love with the idea of love. But that absurd misalliance forever cured me of the
illusion
of love.'