The Lace Balcony (31 page)

In Felix's absence Mungo had borrowed one of his half-brother's dark blue evening jackets and breeches and dressed with care. The gods were with him tonight. His father had just given him his next month's pay in advance to purchase riding boots and other work essentials. Naturally Mungo decided the sum would be better spent on faro – even if he lost, it would gain him access to Severin House and be the man Vianna chose to dine alone with her.

Mungo tried not to appear impressed with the glittering elegance of the place when Severin welcomed him, albeit with narrowed eyes. ‘Mungo Quayle? Ah yes, your letter. The name is unfamiliar. Yet I feel we've met. Never forget a man's face.' He added pointedly, ‘Given he's a gentleman.'

‘We have met before. Introduced by a venomous snake,' Mungo said lightly. ‘But no doubt you are also well acquainted with my old friend, Sir Miles.'

Severin nodded, clearly only half convinced, but he ushered Mungo inside to be escorted to one of the gaming tables.

During the first hour Mungo played carefully, slowly increasing his winnings. Then Lady Luck favoured him and he became more adventurous, moving from table to table to play other games of chance, aware he was drawing attention to his dramatic winning streak.

Suddenly he felt a heavy hand pinning down his shoulder.

Blewitt's whisper rasped a warning. ‘You'd best come with me, Quayle.'

Hopeful that this invitation involved Vianna, Mungo rose to his feet, ready to collect his winning chips.

‘Leave them right there,' Blewitt ordered. ‘We don't welcome your kind here.'

‘I beg your pardon, what do you mean by
my kind
?'

‘Card sharps. And liars – your guarantor Sir Miles is in debtor's prison!'

Blewitt twisted his arm behind his back at an angle that made argument impossible. He forced Mungo along the corridor to the rear of the house, flung open the door of the tradesmen's entrance and booted him in the gut with such force it sent Mungo sprawling across the flagstones.

‘Set foot in this place again – and I'll cut off your manhood!'

The door slammed and Mungo was left to count his losses. No money, no dignity and, worst of all, no private meeting with Vianna. He was outraged at the injustice.
Dammit all, for once I wasn't even cheating!

Boadicea bore the brunt of Mungo's tirade against himself and the world, swearing in flash underworld language that released some of his anger.

At home in the stables he now owned, Mungo unsaddled the horse, rubbed her down and apologised.

‘Sorry you copped the flack, Boadicea. A man can only take so much. But the battle isn't over till the last shot is fired. I'm dead broke now, but I've still got an ace up my sleeve. The Honourable Pander Severin hasn't seen the last of me.'

His challenging words had a fine ring to them. The only trouble was he had no idea yet how to activate his intentions.

Closing the door of the stables he passed his mother's cottage. Taking care not to wake her, he made his way towards the schoolroom. The garden gave to the night air a heady meld of perfumes, both native and alien, that excited the senses. Halfway down the path his eye was caught by the sole light burning in Felix's bedchamber. The telescope seemed to follow his movements.

No doubt Felix is hiding amongst the stars where he feels safe. I know my half-brother backwards. He plays by the rules. I make my own.

It was then that Mungo caught a slight movement. Felix moved from the shadows of his room and stood on his balcony in a dressing robe, looking down at him with a maddening expression of superiority.

Mungo felt a sudden sense of unease. Felix was not alone. Standing in the shadows was another man. Mungo could not see his face – until he stepped forward into the moonlight. He placed
one hand on Felix's shoulder – but Felix showed no reaction. The man looked down at Mungo, unsmiling. His face was clean-shaven, his hair cropped short. A white scarf was knotted around his neck – Fanny's scarf.

Whose side are you on, Will Eden?

Jane Quayle sat by her master's bedside. Her brown hair, loosened from its usual coil at the nape of her neck, streamed down her back in damp rivulets. Although her body was fully covered, Felix was startled by the signs that betrayed recent intimacy.

Her servant's dress was unfastened to the depth of her breasts, her throat marked by the tiny red traces of lovemaking – love bites. She was barefoot and her eyes held an expression of dreamy gentleness that Felix had only seen once before on a woman's face, after a rare whole night he had spent with Mrs Navarro.

Felix's involuntary glance at Jane's naked feet, reminded him of the story she had told him as a child about the merchild's gift.

As if conscious of that shared memory, Jane tucked her feet under her skirts.

Felix felt uneasy, like an intruder in his own house, finding Jane Quayle at his father's bedside. It was one thing knowing this servant had been his father's mistress for some twenty-five years. It was quite another to walk into a room and be forced to witness what was never publicly acknowledged.

‘Forgive me, Father. I regret disturbing you at this early hour. But I have a matter of some urgency I need to discuss with you – alone.'

Kentigern nodded his consent and gave his servant a half-smile that needed no interpretation. Jane gathered up her shoes and her basket of herbs, making a formal bob to her master for Felix's benefit. Before leaving the room, she turned to Felix.

‘To set your mind at rest, Sir, Dr Gordon has approved my use of herbs to aid your father's convalescence. A most open-minded man – for a physician.'

Her manner was neither familiar nor servile. Felix was forced to admire the way the woman handled herself, with simple, natural dignity.

‘Out with it, boy,' his father barked, but did not seem to be displeased, as if all was well with his world.

It is sad to think that after all the years my parents have lived in a troubled marriage, a convict servant is the one woman who can bring Father comfort in the night. Poor Mother – there's no one to comfort her.

Felix reminded himself he was here to face his own problem head on. ‘Father, you must be aware that Mother is pressuring me to take a suitable bride – one of our own class, of course.'

Kentigern eyed him with hawk-like intensity. ‘So?'

‘I am not averse to the idea of eventual marriage. But I am only twenty-three. The fact is, Father, I have met a young woman who has enchanted me. I adore her.'

‘Ah-huh! Good for you!'

‘The girl is an angel, beautiful beyond belief – and gentle of heart. But Mother would never accept – a Fallen Woman.'

‘Bond?' his father asked.

‘No, she came free. But she fell into the hands of a very bad man. I intend to rescue her. That is why I have come to seek your help. I thought you might have sympathy for my dilemma because . . .'

His father's hand twirled in rapid circles to make Felix get to the point.

‘Father, I have already made this young woman an offer. I beg your permission to install her on one of our properties, perhaps in the country – but not too far away for me to visit her. A place where no one will know her – reputation. Where she can live modestly, attend church and begin to build a new, respectable life.'

‘Mistress, eh?' His father's eyes narrowed but his tone revealed no hostility.

‘Yes, Father. But I confess, in time, if she is contrite about her past . . . perhaps one day I could consider an offer of marriage? There are many precedents in the Colony. Your friend Captain John Piper married his mistress, a convict's daughter – look how happy they are, with a dozen or more children. And Esther Abrahams was Lieutenant-Colonel George Johnston's mistress and mother of his children before Governor Macquarie insisted they marry so that she would be acceptable to dine at Government House and –'

‘Yes, yes. Ancient history. What – stops
you
?'

‘Nothing. Except if Mother –'

Kentigern's snort of contempt was unmistakable. ‘Are you man or mouse?'

Felix flushed with embarrassment. ‘I am indeed my own man, Father. But I could never bring a bride here to the family home, against Mother's will.'

Agitated, Kentigern began to climb out of bed but refused Felix's assistance.

‘Crawford!' he demanded and pulled the bell rope.

‘Father, the problem is I need your signature to be my guarantor on the contract to be her protector – in the hope of setting her free from her employer, the Honourable Montague Severin.

‘That mongrel! Downstairs!' He inscribed his finger in the air to illustrate he would sign the document in his office, to sanction Felix's plan.

Felix wanted to hug his father but he felt awkward, uncertain if his gesture would be welcome.
Mungo wouldn't hesitate – but he's sure of Father's love.

‘Thank you, Father. I promise you will never regret your decision. I shall be very discreet. The family name will in no way be tarnished.'

‘Bugger that!' Kentigern's tone was earthy, unmistakable. ‘Just –
love –
her.'

Felix almost fell through the door in relief.
Nothing remains but to rescue my Venus. I know she greatly admires me – she said so! I can offer Severin the moon – now I have Father's blessing!

The document duly signed, Felix returned to his bedchamber to change, ready to escort his mother to an unfamiliar address and collect her two hours later. She had refused to reveal the reason for her uncharacteristically mysterious behaviour, stating only that all would be revealed in due course.

A glance around his bedchamber confirmed subtle signs that yet again it had been disturbed in his absence. He could not fault whoever had serviced his rooms, they were immaculately clean and tidy. Except for one thing. His copy of Christian Carl Ludwig Rümker's notes about his rediscovery of Encke's Comet lay open just as Felix had left it – except for a tell-tale mark. One corner of the page was earmarked.

•  •  •

Jane Quayle was lying asleep on the sofa when Mungo slipped inside her cottage after breakfast. It saddened him to note that the faint lines around her eyes and mouth were growing more marked. For the first time he realised how much she must have suffered during his years at Moreton Bay, being unable to read and write, unable to hear any news of him. It was widely known hundreds of convicts had died there during Logan's regime. She must have lived in dread her only son had been counted amongst the death toll.

Mungo sat facing her, eager to accomplish his mission yet unwilling to disturb her. She smiled in her sleep as if her dream was a pleasant place to be.

I've been a rotten son, Mam. But I swear I'll make it up to you. When I make my fortune I'll see you want for nothing.

Deciding that the cards had not fallen as he had hoped, he finally rose to leave her. The small sound of his departure roused her with a start.

‘Well,' she said crisply. ‘That'll teach me to leave my door open. You could have been a thief. Hungry, are you? I've been baking, so you'll not go away with an empty stomach.'

‘I never say no to your cooking, Mam. But I've come to ask you a favour.'

She swung her feet to the floor and eyed him warily. ‘You're not in trouble again?'

‘Not unless you count being nutty about the most beautiful girl in the world.'

‘Found another one already, have you? I thought your golden girl was too good to last. What was her name? Fanny?'

‘Same girl,' he said. ‘And I'm sure she wants to love me too.'

‘
Wants
to love you? What on earth's stopping her?' she snapped. ‘Don't tell me she's already married. I'll have none of that under my roof.'

‘No, Mam. But it's a bit complicated.'

She shook her finger at him and gave him a dose of the plain speaking that Mungo had always admired in her.

‘It's bad enough to have a mother like me – in God's eyes an adulteress. I want something better for my son. A good woman who belongs only to you and gives you legitimate children.'

‘In a sense she
is
married – to me. Remember I explained about the day we met in prison – the exchange of scarves made it a common law marriage.'

‘Huh! That's just the underworld code. It won't give your babes a legal name. Or put a roof over your bride's head, neither.'

‘But I now
have
my own roof, Mam. She'll be your new neighbour. Father gave me the deeds to the stables next to this cottage.'

‘He never did! You're joshing me?'

‘It's all signed, sealed and delivered. I plan to make it into a snug little cottage – the mirror image of yours. I can turn it into two rooms up and two down.'

His mother was sizing him up. ‘I'm beginning to think you're dead serious about this Fanny girl.'

I'd best not explain that Fanny now goes by the name of Vianna. Mam's confused enough as it is – and who could blame her?

‘If I clean the place out, chuck out the groom's old stuff, will you help me make it fit for her? I have money coming to me when Father pays my next wages.'

Mungo gave her the pleading look that had always worked in his favour when he was a small boy. ‘Meanwhile may I borrow your spare bed and some bed linen until I can afford to furnish it properly for her?'

Jane Quayle was already on her feet. ‘If your Fanny isn't too finicky, she'll be comfortable, I'll see to that. I've more than enough spare pots and pans and crockery. I'll sew curtains for her and I'll finish the patchwork quilt I've been making. I'd best make a list and get started right away. How much time do I have?'