The Lace Balcony (35 page)

Mungo took two steps in each direction then threw up his hands in defeat. He paused at the top of the ladder.

‘It's not what it looks like, Mam.' He sent the mermaid a sad passing shot. ‘I love you, girl. Always have, always will. If you don't want me, you can marry any decent man you want. But that's where I draw the line. I refuse to stand by and watch Severin destroy you, passing you from man to man, do you hear?'

When he disappeared from sight down the ladder, Jane Quayle placed her arm around the girl's shoulders. The brandy was taking full effect and Jane saw she was floating in a pleasant haze on the edge of sleep.

‘I used to be Fanny, but I'm known by my stage name, Vianna.' she said. It's a long story.'

‘I'm sure it is, but it can wait until tomorrow. Now my little mermaid, let me help you get out of that fancy costume. Where is it fastened?'

‘It isn't. My lady's maid sewed me into it – and stuck it on with glue to make sure it didn't slip off my hips and cause a riot.'

‘Very sensible, I'm sure,' Jane said, betraying no curiosity about the existence of a lady's maid, the girl's reason for being half naked, or a possible riot.

‘Then it seems I must be snipping your mermaid's costume off you. I gather you won't be needing it again in a hurry?'

‘I'd rather die!' Vianna said passionately and her eyes filled with tears like a weary child. ‘All those men staring at me and gloating. But there was really no choice. I thought being a mermaid was the lesser of two evils, better than standing on stage stark naked as Venus born out of a seashell.'

‘I'm sure you made the right decision, lamb. And mermaids are such gentle souls, it's no wonder my son fell head over heels in love with you.'

‘Oh, but I wasn't a mermaid when we first met in prison,' Vianna sighed. ‘You're so kind, Mrs Quayle, I knew you'd understand. Mungo told me the Manx story about the merchild's gift of a babe – but I suppose that was just another of Mungo's lovely lies?'

Jane gave her a secretive smile as she kicked off her slippers and wriggled her toes for her guest's inspection. ‘Does that answer your question?'

Vianna was wide-eyed. ‘So he didn't lie.'

Jane snipped the last inches of cloth and eased her out of her costume. ‘Even born story-tellers like Mungo have been known to tell the truth from time to time.'

Vianna seemed pleased to be helped into the pretty, lace-edged nightgown that Jane said she had placed under the pillow in readiness for Mungo's bride. She slid Vianna under the coverlet and tucked her in bed.

‘Sleep tight, lass. In the morning I'll bring you breakfast and we can begin to put the world to rights. I can promise you one thing. My Mungo never gives up on anything he sets his sight on.'

Vianna's eyes were growing heavy but Jane's voice was comforting.

‘Whether you choose him or send him packing, I know my son. He might act like a tearaway but Mungo is a real Quayle, true of heart . . . hear me well, lass. I'm not one to hold any woman's past against her . . . but . . .'

Jane saw that her final words were too late. The mermaid was already in a deep sleep. So she wrapped her shawl around herself and curled up in the rocking chair, determined to keep watch until the cocks at Cleveland Farm crowed at dawn.

Young love. I'd almost forgotten how painful it is. And heaven help Mungo. He's got his hands full with this lass. I'll stand by her if she plays square with him – but if she breaks my son's heart – I'll throw this mermaid back in the sea where she came from . . .

‘The prince of darkness is a gentleman.'

Samuel Johnson 1709–1784

Torrential rain pelted against the windows of the Bridge of Sighs, distorting the view of the garden, making it appear like a shimmering mirage. Felix crossed over the bridge to the other house, dressed in his most formal day attire, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, but resolved to fight for his rights in the aftermath of his half-brother's humiliating abduction of Vianna.

Vianna chose me fair and square. Mungo's outrageous plan failed – she was crying out to him to release her. He's probably holding her hostage in some sleazy shanty. Even Mungo wouldn't have the gall to bring her here to Father's estate.

Desperate to confront Mungo face to face, when he heard a noise that seemed to be coming from the old schoolroom, he flung open the door and cried out, ‘You unmitigated scoundrel!' before realising the room was empty. A new book lay beside a paper knife ready to cut open the pages.

Felix was shocked by his violent urge to grab that knife and stab Mungo.
Perhaps it's true every man is capable of murder under certain circumstances
.

He hurried downstairs. Kentigern L'Estrange was in his office, working his way through a pile of documents while still in his dressing robe, the remnants of a breakfast tray beside him. He gave Felix a nod and a triumphant wink, proud that his speech was growing steadily clearer. ‘Won fair lady, eh? Beat the pants off Georgie Porgy!'

Felix was stunned by how fast news travelled by servants' word of mouth – even if, like most gossip, it was only half-accurate.

‘Not exactly, Father. My mistress announced she had chosen me, but she was abducted by that lying, scheming son of yours!'

‘Mungo? Good God, how did he become involved in Severin's game?'

The patriarch appeared genuinely bewildered by Felix's angry account of the previous night's events, true in every detail except one. Out of gratitude for his father's support of his romantic liaison, Felix
chose to conceal Dr Gordon's role in the hoax. He had no wish to diminish his father's confidence in his new physician, whose methods were achieving remarkable improvements in his health. Felix believed the doctor's assertion that he had assisted Mungo's plan unaware of Felix's relationship with Vianna.

‘I regret the need to involve you in this absurd melodrama, Father. But the lady chose
me
to be her protector. Mungo will be forced to bow to her decision.'

‘Damned awkward for me. Bad blood between brothers. Can't take sides,' he managed to say with effort.

Felix had half expected this reaction but he was annoyed to see that his father seemed to be struggling to conceal a smile.
Why should that surprise me? He admires Mungo's buccaneer style – a son after his own heart.

Felix's anxiety centred on his father's promise of the use of an estate on the Northern Shore, so private it was hidden from the nearest property, Mrs Mary Reiby's original grant. Reached only by water boat, it was the perfect place to conceal a notorious mistress.

‘I take it your offer of
Mookaboola
still stands, Father?'

Kentigern nodded but had clearly grown impatient.

Felix pressed on. ‘The moment I force Mungo to return Vianna, we will depart for
Mookaboola.
Mother need never know of my mistress's existence.'

Kentigern rolled his eyes to heaven, clearly doubting Felix's chances of keeping anything a secret from Albruna. ‘Bon chance!' he said dourly.

•  •  •

The sun suddenly dominated the rain in the usual summer battle for supremacy, drying the road so rapidly that heat steamed from its surface. This morning Severin House had an air of shabby decadence. Felix soon identified the cause. The garden was being trammelled by tradesmen removing the mansion's furniture, stacking it on waiting carts and wagons.

Two slatternly females burst out the door of the servants' entrance, shrieking in delight and armed with quality gowns that he had little doubt belonged to Vianna. Felix hurried to the main entrance determined to put a stop to the theft.

In the vestibule he handed his card to a man he'd never seen before. ‘Please inform your master Severin I must speak with him immediately.'

‘No master of mine, Sir. I'm the bailiff. Severin's shot through, he has.'

Severin, it seemed, had already vacated the place by the time word of the police raid drew a swarm of creditors to strip the place of whatever could be sold in lieu of his debts.

‘How do you know he won't return?' Felix asked.

The bailiff gestured towards Severin's office. The iron safe was empty, all documents stripped from his desk. ‘Clean as a whistle. The louse, begging your pardon, Sir, the
gentleman
made off with everything of value, his carriage, his mistress's landau, horses and all.'

‘I recall he owned a fine portrait of Venus. Is that . . . ?'

‘Gone too. Would have brought in a pretty penny. Her being a famous lady of pleasure,' he said with a wink.

Felix stiffened. ‘I'll have you know I am a friend of Madame Francis. I wish to speak with her lady's maid.'

‘The darkie? Gone walkabout no doubt, you know what they're like,' the bailiff said mildly. ‘All his servants have pissed off too, Sir. Must have been quite a fracas here last night. A naked mermaid and all – and on the Sabbath too!'

Felix blushed but assumed an air of moral superiority. ‘Look here, my good man, Madame Francis has done no wrong. Her personal property is no part of Severin's debts. I shall collect it myself. Glad to compensate you for your trouble.'

He reached for his wallet in the customary manner that residents of Sydney Town circumnavigated the law.

‘I regret it's too late, Sir. It's all winging its way to Sam Lyons's auction house. Anything worn by the notorious Sydney Town Venus will sell like hot cakes. I dare say the Venus'll bob up somewhere, Sir. Women of her kind always make a killing off rich gentlemen one way and another, if you gets me meaning?'

Felix turned his back on the bailiff. It was beneath his dignity to bid for her jewels and apparel in public, so he would order new gowns suited to her new life.

He hurried up the marble grand staircase but halted on the
threshold of Vianna's bedchamber, stung by an acute sense of loss that his first romantic meeting alone with her had taken place in this room, designed for pleasure, but now stripped to the bone, sad and tawdry by daylight. Nothing if not thorough, Felix checked the hidden closet to discover the sole item abandoned by scavengers – a small green broken bottle of physic, labelled: ‘To be Taken by Mouth at the end of each Month'.

Felix could only guess at its purpose. He had heard it was rare for courtesans to give birth. The words reminded Felix how unworldly he was. During his only previous liaison, with Maria Navarro, he had never given thought to the possible consequences of fathering a child, but being conscious that the dreaded syphilis was a death sentence, he had used a gentleman's sheath for his own protection. This broken bottle was a sharp reminder.
My lady is now my responsibility.

On his return to Rockingham Hall, Felix ran headlong into Mungo, leaving their father's office. Before Felix had time to demand to know where Vianna was held hostage, Mungo seized the initiative. ‘I've just briefed Father about last night. We need to talk in private. Upstairs. My chambers. On the double.'

Felix was infuriated to be left standing there, stripped of his moral high ground.
What gall! He's acting like he's the hero instead of the perpetrator. I'll be damned if I allow him to walk all over me. The tables are turned, Mungo Quayle!

Mungo stood in the old schoolhouse by the Juliet balcony, looking across the garden to Jane Quayle's whitewashed cabin and his stables, when Felix stormed into the room.

‘I demand to know what you have done with Vianna.'

Unperturbed, Mungo held up a hand to halt him. ‘All in good time. I've just assured Father that Vianna is quite safe. He agrees she must be given time to cool down – not pressured by either of us into making her decision.'

Felix was thrown by Mungo's high-handed ability to get his father on side.

‘How dare you discuss my private affairs with
my
father! Vianna is my legal responsibility! Where the hell is she?'

Mungo gestured to the far end of the garden. ‘There'.

‘Good God. Held hostage by Jane Quayle?'

‘Don't be a damned fool. Not in Mother's cottage – in
my
place. Don't worry, your legacy is safe. You'll inherit all his rural properties and you and Mrs Less cop Rockingham Hall. But the stables are mine!'

‘The stables! How can you insult that lovely girl by putting her in the stables?'

‘It's no insult to put an honest roof over a woman's head, Felix. I've offered her marriage. The best you could offer her was to be your mistress, hidden away in the bush from society. Safe to enjoy her body under the guise of saving her soul. What a bloody hypocrite you are, Felix.'

‘You dare call
me
that. You, a convicted felon, a thief and a liar. And God only knows the true role you played in Patrick Logan's murder!'

The silence that followed his unplanned accusation stunned Felix by the instant change it wrought. Mungo's face was blank but his eyes were glazed with an expression that on anyone else, Felix would have said was fear.

He felt a wave of shame for arousing bad experiences from Moreton Bay, given Mungo had saved the L'Estrange family name by assuming the major share of guilt. Felix knew his accusation was absurd. No one had been brought to trial for Logan's murder but the consensus was he had died at the hands of hostile natives.

Mungo's answer had the ironic edge that was his trademark. ‘Yeah, I'm sure you could write a book about my wicked life. But the only thing that really matters is Vianna's future. Face facts, Felix. We both want her. But right now she doesn't want a bar of either of us. She might even choose to return to Severin. The mongrel has a hold over her, blackmail of some kind. Believe it or not, I didn't abduct the girl just to thwart
your
plans. I didn't even know until yesterday you were a candidate in Severin's game – that's barely a cut above white slavery.'