Ghost Gum Valley (23 page)

Marmaduke waited.
Damn that mask. I can't read her expression.

He was surprised when she said the words softly, ‘Does she still cause you pain?' He replaced his jacket as if donning a suit of armour that made him invincible.

‘Good God, no! That young girl freed me to see the world as it really is. Since then I've been incapable of confining my life to one woman. Married or not, I intend to live as a bachelor taking my pleasures where I choose. I'm immune to tender feelings. Of course, I'm kind to horses and dogs but when it comes to the fair sex I promise you, I have
no heart
.'

Marmaduke resumed his seat and said in a friendly tone, ‘So you see, Isabel, this gives you the perfect excuse to renege on our arranged marriage.' He felt suddenly curious. ‘Forgive me if this sounds like male vanity but the miniature portrait of me my father sent to you – it did not deter you from the prospect of marriage?'

‘What portrait? I never saw any.'

‘Our London lawyers delivered it to a kinsman of yours. A certain Silas de Rolland.'

He expected her to be shocked by the proof of duplicity he did not doubt was caused by the ‘beloved cousin'. But whatever her true feelings, Isabel shrugged it off.

‘I'd have come here to marry an ape. I know my duty to my family. No doubt they considered banishment to the Colonies adequate punishment for my heinous sin.'

Marmaduke waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. ‘Come, now. It's hardly a heinous sin for an innocent young girl to fall into the arms of her lover. If that were the case, half the world's female population would be in prison.'

He glanced at his pocket watch. Time was running out. He must tackle the von Starbold business now. ‘There's something else you have the right to know about me. A deed far worse than you could imagine.'

He poured himself another glass of champagne in preparation for recounting the event for the first time since that day he stood in the witness box at his trial – a gauche sixteen-year-old boy desperate to appear a man of honour. He remembered how calm his voice had sounded in contrast to the way his knees trembled when Edwin, his defence counsellor, had asked him the question that was the key to his innocence or guilt, ‘Tell me in your own words, the cause of your quarrel with your deceased tutor, Klaus von Starbold.'

The past came back with the force of white heat.

The sun was fast setting as Marmaduke rode through the bush in search of his mother, who had not returned at the accustomed time from her daily walk with Queenie. His father had sent out a party of assigned men to their planned destination, Scavengers Creek, where they swam. But on impulse Marmaduke rode in the opposite direction. Mingaletta.

The setting sun outlined the chimney of the ruined homestead. The only room that remained intact was the empty wine cellar. Marmaduke felt sure he'd find her there listening to Queenie's stories of their childhood in India.

The door swung open at his touch. Two figures were dimly outlined in the shaft of light that fell through the grill of the window. When his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness he was riveted by shock. A naked man lay on top of a woman, pinning her arms above her head as he penetrated her in a wild frantic rhythm. His mother's voice cried out, ‘No!' but the man stopped her mouth with a savage kiss as if to devour her.

The man turned his head revealing the old duelling scar on his cheek.

Now as Marmaduke looked across at the masked girl watching him intently, he selected his words with care.

‘Klaus von Starbold was my tutor. He raped my mother,' he said without emotion.

‘I had two choices. I was my mother's witness. I could have him charged with rape and see him hanged. Or meet him on the duelling field to avenge mother's honour. Von Starbold vowed that if he survived he would leave the Colony never to return. He told me this choice was my test of manhood. Would I see my mother's good name dragged through the court and lampooned in the Colony? Or face him on the duelling field?'

Isabel was wide-eyed but silent.

‘Next morning at dawn I faced von Starbold on the cricket pitch out of sight of the house. My tutor was so damned correct he continued to give me instructions in the duelling code. At the count of twenty we turned. I fired first and shot von Starbold in the stomach. He looked at me in surprise. Aimed the pistol directly at my head to make me sweat. Then deliberately fired his pistol into the ground.'

Isabel gasped. ‘He never intended to kill you. What happened to him?'

‘A bullet wound in the gut is fatal. He asked me to stand by him so he wouldn't die alone. I told him I would stay to watch him die. He gave me an odd smile and said, “I taught you well. Next time we meet aim at my heart, it's quicker that way.” I saw his eyes glaze over. The last words he said were, “You were right to protect your mother against me. I'm proud of you, young man.”'

Marmaduke felt drained but aware that Isabel was watching him intently. He took the snuff case from his pocket and inhaled a pinch to cover the fact his hands were shaking.

‘He died in Queenie's cabin a few hours later. Edwin Bentleigh, my then barrister and now my friend, succeeded in getting the military jury to return a verdict of Not Guilty. The true reason for the duel was concealed to protect Mother's name. But it probably helped my case that my Emancipist father was the second wealthiest man in the Colony. Men in high places were in his pocket. Perhaps some sat on the jury, who knows?'

‘Your mother must have been proud of you.'

‘She never spoke of it again. She died some months later. The truth is, Isabel, I marched on to that duelling field with murder in my heart. I had every intention of killing him. Do you understand? I really was
guilty of murder
!'

Isabel was breathing so heavily he wondered if she was about to faint. Marmaduke was totally unprepared for what came next.

Her voice cracked with the strain of her words, ‘So am
I
!'

Marmaduke was so surprised he actually laughed. He crossed the room to pat her shoulder as if to reassure a wayward child that all was forgiven.

‘My dear Isabel, if you are so intent on breaking our engagement, you have only to say so. I am more than ready to compensate you for your journey and place you on the next ship bound for Home. You don't need to outrank me in villainy.'

Isabel stammered out the words. ‘I am far worse than you. I never stood trial. My family succeeded in concealing my crime – murder.'

Intrigued, Marmaduke drew a chair close to her side. ‘A man?' he prompted.

She shook her head. ‘I wish it had been. Then I would feel no guilt. No. I have a medical condition. Sleepwalking. In that state I can't remember what I've done or where I've been.' She was blushing. ‘When I was thirteen I had not yet become a woman. You understand?'

‘Menstruation is a simple fact of life, Isabel, no need to shy from the word.'

‘I can't believe you said that out loud! No one in polite society dares speak of it.'

‘You're not in polite society. You're with me – an Australian.'

‘I'm not likely to forget that,' she said angrily. ‘Look, this might be amusing to you, but it is very painful for me.'

Marmaduke quickly assured her, ‘I'm truly sorry. Please continue.'

‘My sleepwalking grew worse. I disappeared for seven days. They found me wandering in the woods – without any memory of the time lapse. On my return I was kept under lock and key. Too late.' The words came in a rush. ‘I had never
bled
so I did not realise until months later. I was with child.'

Marmaduke reached for the champagne.
Jesus Christ, what's coming next?

‘My guardian said I was not responsible for my sleepwalking illness, but I must be kept closely confined to conceal the truth. I discovered their plan. The babe was to be placed in an orphan asylum in Scotland, never to be seen again.'

Marmaduke knelt beside her chair. ‘My God, what you've been through.'

‘The birthing came early. I escaped from the servant who guarded me. Ran off into the woods where the gypsy travellers camped every spring. There was an old Romani healer famous for her herbal remedies. I begged her to help me. She delivered the babe. Next morning I left her camp to avoid bringing trouble down on her head from my family.'

Marmaduke chafed her hands to warm them. He said gently, ‘Please go on.'

‘Cousin Silas found me wandering in the grounds of our estate. I shall never forget the look on his face when I confessed I'd smothered
the babe. Buried its body in the woods.' Isabel added defiantly, ‘I told him it was better off dead!'

Her voice was bleak with despair. ‘The bible tells us “the truth will set you free”. It never does. My crime of infanticide will haunt me the rest of my life.'

Marmaduke reached out to touch her but she pulled away from his hand.

She added coolly, ‘So, now
you
are free. What are you waiting for? Go ahead. Break our engagement. I can't sue you for breach of promise. I can never return to England. I'll never marry. What man wants a wife who murdered her own child?'

Marmaduke realised there were no adequate words to cover her experience. He had no idea what to say until he heard his voice answering her in a quiet, deliberate measure.

‘Understand me, Isabel, There's only one thing I want – Mingaletta. I don't want to marry you. It's nothing personal. I don't want a wife, I want an
ally
. A woman who'll be my accomplice. Like a paid mercenary. Marry me. Give me your unquestioning loyalty
in public.
And in private I'll grant you complete freedom to speak your mind – as you do only too well!'

She gasped. ‘Are you insane? After what I just confessed?'

‘You and I are two of a kind. We can never shock each other by how low we have sunk. We've both committed murder. We're a perfect match. You hate men and I enjoy women too much to confine myself to any one female. You see? We're ideally suited to living in an arranged marriage. Strictly as brother and sister, of course!'

Isabel pulled off her mask and stared at him for a full minute as if his crazy idea was firing her imagination. ‘What exactly would you expect from me as your ally?'

He briefly ran through the history of his promise to his mother and his long struggle with Garnet. ‘I'm sorry to be blunt but this is the only reason I'd consider marrying you or anyone else. But it isn't a life sentence. In a year or so when Mingaletta is mine I'll set you free to live your own life.'

‘You
are
mad!'

‘No. To quote Hamlet, there is
method
in my madness. If you agree to my proposition, you are free to state your terms.'

‘Two things,' Isabel said promptly. ‘Money. Paid quarterly. Secondly, you must never again question me about my crime or my past life in England.'

Marmaduke was surprised by the speed and nature of her conditions but he did not quibble. ‘Fine. Agreed on both counts. I'll have Edwin draw up a private contract. When the terms are fulfilled you'll be free to leave as a financially independent young woman.'

He offered his hand in the manner of two men sealing a pact. ‘It's a pleasure to do business with you, Isabel de Rolland. We have a busy few days ahead of us so I'll leave you to your beauty sleep. I'm off to the theatre.' He paused in the doorway. ‘Tomorrow I'll take you to the finest dressmaker in Sydney Town to fit you for your wedding gown.'

The distant church clock chimed the ninth hour as Marmaduke hurried down the hotel steps towards his carriage, where Thomas nodded asleep on the box seat.

Marmaduke was annoyed that tonight he would be guilty of the one breach of good manners that mattered to him – his late arrival at the theatre. He hoped he would be in time to hear the aria that had made Josepha St John famous or at least to catch her final encore so he could genuinely rave about her performance at their late supper.

He felt unsettled by the extraordinary scene he had played out with Isabel. His description of his mother's rape and the murder he'd committed under the guise of a duel would have shattered his engagement to any girl in the British Isles. But not Isabel de Rolland. She had immediately topped his story with her own bizarre crime.

It wasn't the act of infanticide that shocked him, a not uncommon remedy for women of the lower orders to dispose of an unwanted babe at birth. The law often dealt leniently with what was considered a misdemeanour rather than a crime. But he was angered by the imbalance of the scales – justice without mercy. To pick a gentleman's pocket and relieve him of his handkerchief meant transportation. A prostitute who rolled a drunken customer and stole a few paltry coins earned seven years in New South Wales – in reality a life sentence. Few convicts ever returned home.