Ironbark (52 page)

‘My servant is Franco's
wife
?' She looked up at him like a tragic kitten. ‘I beg you, don't do this to me. I dine at the governor's table! Don't expose me to ridicule in society!'

Jake's revenge finally tasted sweet. ‘I don't need to. The whole bloody colony will enjoy the joke soon enough! The genuine conte is

bound for Port Jackson to be the governor's guest of honour!'

Jake tossed the report onto the bed. ‘If I were you I'd hire Frankie Hotchkiss a damned good lawyer. He's sure gunna need one!'

Right at that moment Jake heard a male voice bellowing in a foreign language.

Jenny's face turned ashen. ‘
Dio mio!
It's Franco!'

The sound of a heavy thump from the next room caused Jenny to run from the room in panic, crying, ‘Jakey, don't desert me!'

Jake felt trapped by one of his own rules; never to turn his back on a woman's cry for help.

He followed her to the next room. An overturned chair lay on the floor. A red cord hung from the chandelier. Swinging on the end was the twitching body of Frankie Hotchkiss. His striped silk dressing gown fell open to expose a body as pathetic as a plucked turkey. A gold crucifix hung around his neck. The whites of his bulbous eyes were rolled to heaven.

The Yankee's warning was accurate. Jake was driven to blind rage.
The mongrel's not gunna die and cheat me of my revenge.

He smashed a nearby glass weapons cabinet with his bare hands. Blood ran down his arms and Jenny screamed as he grabbed a lethal Saracen blade and charged at the body.

‘You yellow-livered, rotten mongrel!' With maniacal strength he slashed the sword through the air, cutting the cord in two.

The body fell to the floor then whimpered. Frankie Hotchkiss grabbed at his throat where the cord had dug into his flesh.

Jake realised at that moment what he must look like, stark naked and wielding a sword over Frankie Hotchkiss's prone body. Suddenly he didn't feel like an avenger.
I feel bloody ridiculous.

Frankie was looking at Jenny like a miserable puppy. ‘If I lose you,
Contessa mia
, is best I die!'

Jake rolled his eyes.
Jesus! He can't even lose his false accent when he's dying.

Jenny remembered her role as a goddess. She looked up at Jake with contempt.

‘Get out of here, you peasant. You'll never be half the man Franco is!'

It was then Jake spotted the painting on the floor and realised the reason for the small holes in the wall. Franco had used the eyes of the mask of Venus to spy on Jake's performance with Jenny. His own wife. Jake felt a wave of humiliation.
Jesus wept. This is the night I waited years for to prove to Jenny I could at last make her happy in bed! And it was nothing but a peepshow for a Cockney valet!

Jake found himself choking. It began painfully but soon a strange sound came rolling out of his mouth. It was clean, free unstoppable laughter.

He handed his rival the sword. ‘You ain't man enough to live without a fake title. Try killing yourself with this. It works better than hanging!'

Frankie Hotchkiss clung to his role. ‘Never you take her! She is my goddess!'

Jake said dryly, ‘You're welcome to her, mate.'

He rode away with the only thing of value – the letter to the convent. He forced himself to examine his tawdry night of revenge. Why had Jenny sunk so low, using her body to solicit money for her lover? The crazy truth hit him.
She really loves the grubby little bastard!

He confided in Horatio. ‘They're nothing but scum but I'm no bloody better. For years I've been driven by my hunger for revenge. The only innocent person in this whole dirty mess is my little princess.'

Jake lost his taste for murder. Frankie Hotchkiss wasn't worth it. Jenny had been free to choose her life but little Pearl didn't have a say in anything. Jake vowed come hell or high water he'd spring Pearl out of that convent and take her where they'd never find her. Swan River in the west or the new colony of South Australia.

But that meant he'd never see Keziah again. He cursed himself for

a fool. Now that Daniel had abdicated his role of husband, Caleb Morgan would claim Keziah and Gabriel.

‘Jesus wept, Horatio. What a mess I've made of my life! There's only one thing left to do.'

Keziah gripped the shawl around her head in a vain attempt to keep her intricately coiled hair in place. She clung to the passenger seat beside Polly Doyle as George Hobson drove his cart at high speed through Ironbark village. They were late for a very special event. The whole locality had been invited by Dr Ross to an open-house celebration to commemorate the anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar. Jake had once told her that the Doc, a surgeon in the Royal Navy since his youth, ranked Horatio Nelson's naval victory second only to the wild celebration of New Year's Eve that Highlanders called Hogmanay.

Despite her reluctance to visit the Haunted Farm Keziah decided to risk being confronted by the
mulo
of the convict Padraic. She could not pass up the chance that Jake Andersen would miraculously return in time for this party. No matter what had happened at Jake's reunion with Jenny in Melbourne Town, Keziah was desperate to know the outcome.

The world and his dog will be there tonight. Mi-duvel, please put me out of my misery. In my dreams I saw Jake in bed with Jenny. Does that mean he's taken her back as his wife?

Tonight Keziah had chosen to wear her best summer-weight gown but she still found it difficult to adjust to October being mid-spring in the colony. Close to sundown the air was hot, windy and filled with dust from the drought that was now in its fourth year. As they rattled past the Collins family's few-acres farm, she saw rows of wheat sagging in the parched earth. A neighbouring farm was so derelict it signalled to Keziah that yet another defeated settler had turned to rum for consolation. As they crossed the riverbed of Ironbark creek she saw it had shrivelled into shallow pools like the beads of a broken necklace.

The destruction of the drought was as painful to Keziah as if her own body was wounded. Rain was God's blood. She prayed
The Del
would give his blood to nourish the earth.

On their arrival at the Haunted Farm the party was already in full swing. Leslie Ross was standing on the veranda to welcome them. He cut an imposing figure in his full Highland regalia of red and black Ross tartan kilt with ornate sporran, silver-buttoned velvet jacket with clan sash anchored on one shoulder by a cairngorm and silver brooch, silver-buckled shoes on his feet. Keziah noted his ruddy face was flushed.
I'll bet he's knocked back a fair few drams of whisky.

At his elbow stood Janet Macgregor, looking self-conscious without the protective armour of her housekeeper's apron. For once her chestnut hair was loosely coiled at the nape of her neck.

The Doc's welcome was hearty. Janet bobbed an awkward curtsy but Keziah responded with a warm hug.

‘Janet dear, how handsome you look in evening dress.'

Janet looked pleased but dismissed the compliment and ushered Keziah and Polly across the lawn to join the other guests. Many had already responded to the wine and the music and were dancing on the wooden platform reserved for the dancers. The garden was hung with Chinese paper lanterns that Keziah recognised were Sunny Ah Wei's merchandise.

She looked around in vain for any sign of Jake.

A man's hand on her elbow and his whispered words, ‘You look ravishing, m'dear,' made her whirl around in surprise.

‘What are
you
doing here?' she demanded. ‘I thought you were in Sydney Town buying yourself a house.'

Caleb Morgan looked dashing. He was the kind of man who even if he wore convict slops would have started a new fashion.

He snapped his fingers. ‘Signed, sealed and delivered. A fine town-house on the crest of Woolloomooloo Hill. The top floor has a nursery for Gabriel and a room for a nurse girl so you won't have to attend him
during the night. The house overlooks the harbour on three sides. You'll love it.' He leaned down and whispered in her ear, ‘It's yours. Can't wait to take you there.'

‘Don't count your chickens before they're hatched, Caleb. I'm still legally married, remember?' Keziah said sharply.

Caleb gave a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘A mere detail. In the circles I move in that's easily rectified. No issue from your marriage. So an annulment will do the trick. Don't worry, I'll compensate your husband. A struggling artist in a garret no doubt.'

Keziah was so irritated by his confident smile that she gripped her fan so hard she snapped one of its ribs. ‘Damn!' she said.

‘How refreshing you are,' he laughed in response. ‘Will you do me the honour to dance with me?'

Aware people were watching them Keziah tried to remain circumspect. ‘No, thank you. If a man coughs twice in a woman's presence in Ironbark it's enough to start a rumour they're bedmates.'

‘A rumour I'd be more than happy to hear given
my
name is linked to yours,' he said.

Keziah forced herself to let that pass. ‘I
would
welcome a glass of champagne.'

‘Indeed, just what you need to relax after a day in the schoolroom. Allow me.'

He made a little bow and walked off in the direction of the refreshments table. Keziah seized the moment to break free and circulate in the crowd, hoping to find Jake alone. There was no sign of him.

The sound of a waltz drifted across the lawn as she passed the open door of the cookhouse. She knew she should not eavesdrop but her instinct was too strong to tear her eyes from the scene. Leslie Ross was standing beside Janet Macgregor, who was flushed in the face and trying to keep her composure as she tied on her apron.

‘Ye are a stubborn woman, Janet. Dinna I make it clear? I've paid good money to hire servants to free ye from the kitchen. Tonight
I'm your host, not your master.'

With great deliberation he untied her apron and let it fall to the floor. Janet looked as alarmed as if he had undressed her in public.

‘What do you think you're doing, man?'

‘Inviting you to waltz, lassie.'

Janet pulled away but remained within reach. ‘You know full well Wesleyans don't hold with the dancing.'

Leslie asked softly, ‘What kind of God forbids a man to enjoy music in the arms of his ain true love?'

Janet gasped. Her resolve crumbled. ‘I dinna know how to dance.'

‘I'm just the man to teach you, lassie.'

Janet bit back a smile. ‘Get thee behind me, Satan.'

Leslie slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her.

Keziah smiled wistfully as she moved away unnoticed, leaving them to explore the moment.

At least Dr Ross has the courage to ignore
gaujo
law and claim his happiness when
baxt
offers him the chance
.

She averted her eyes from the old well where she'd once seen the
mulo
. Hurrying back to rejoin the guests her head ached as she tried to avoid Caleb and search for Jake. Finally she gave up.

When George Hobson announced he needed to rise early, Keziah seized the chance to depart with him. Polly Doyle sat beside her on the journey home, dejected because Mac Mackie hadn't asked her to dance.

At the sound of horses behind them, Keziah turned in time to see an old wagon veering off down the track to the Haunted Farm that they had just left behind them.

Jake! What rotten timing. If only I'd waited another few minutes!

‘Damn me for a fool!' she muttered angrily under her breath.

Polly gave her a broad grin and whispered, ‘Nice to see proper ladies like you are human just like the rest of us.'

• • • 

Jake arrived weary and travel-stained to find the Doc's party had reached the stage when men fired with grog were ready to start a fight or try their luck with a woman. He unharnessed Horatio from the wagon and led him to the water trough.

‘By rights this should be your celebration, mate. Horatio Nelson being your namesake.'

Leslie Ross gave Jake an expansive hug of welcome. ‘My thanks for coming back in time to celebrate Nelson's victory, laddie. The Battle of Trafalgar seems as fresh tonight as if it happened yesterday.'

‘Wouldn't forgive myself if I'd missed it, Doc.' Jake wanted to ask if Keziah was here but shied off drawing attention to his quest. He had a heap of plans in his head he was itching to set in motion.
But first I've got to make sure Keziah is still free – and available.

The Doc supplied Jake with two double whiskies. They drank a toast to Lord Nelson then the Doc was dragged off to perform the Highland fling to the drunken cheers of his guests.

Mac Mackie made a beeline for Jake and confided his frustration over Polly Doyle.

‘Jesus, Mac. You mean the girl still hasn't a clue how you feel about her? If you don't put your bid in quick smart, Hobson's going to snaffle her up to be his kids' stepmother.'

‘Do you reckon she'd take me on? I ain't no oil painting.'

‘Trust me, Polly Doyle would have you churched before you can say Jack Robinson.'

When Jake downed his second whisky he caught sight of the figure at the centre of a circle of men who were firing questions at him.
Jesus wept! Caleb bloody Morgan.

Jake could hardly bear to look at him. The Englishman reeked Quality. He was wealthy, a gentleman, unmarried – and Gabriel's father!

What in hell do I have to offer Kez? Not a bloody thing! Not even my best mates would be guilty of calling me a gentleman.

What was far worse, Caleb Morgan had enough money and influence to pull strings to gain a divorce for Keziah. Jake would never be free to marry her. He didn't have a roof to put over her head. His income was haphazard, topped up with prize fights she hated. He had a prison record.
And now I'm on the brink of abducting Pearl from a convent – more bloody trouble with the law!