The Lace Balcony (52 page)

She finished lamely. ‘I have to start somewhere. The bottom rung of the ladder will do if you'll give me a chance.'

Mary Reiby's round face broke into a smile. ‘I suspect you'll climb that ladder, Fanny Byron. And I wish I could help you on your way, but I am only days away from sailing with my granddaughter to England to launch her into society.'

Vianna's heart sank. ‘Well, thank you anyway for seeing me, Mrs Reiby. May I wish you a safe passage.'

Mrs Reiby nodded, returning the sketches. ‘Your designs show promise, Fanny. I'll pass on to you a wise piece of advice that dear Mr Reiby gave me when we first met. He told me: “It's a man's world, Mary, and the road to the top of the mountain is longer and harder for a woman to climb than a man. But elbow your way in, girl, keep smiling and never compromise, no matter how many times you get rebuffed. You'll reach the top of the mountain in the end.”'

Mary Reiby sighed. ‘And I
did.
I only wish my husband was alive to share it.'

Vianna walked out into the glare of sunlight, disappointed but not defeated.

Elbow my way in and keep smiling. I must show a brave face for Molly's sake.

‘How did it go?' Molly asked curiously.

‘Wonderfully. I'm going to see Mrs Mary Reiby when she returns from England. Meanwhile there are other big decisions I must face.'

‘Yes, indeed. It must be nice to have two handsome young men competing to be your champion.'

Vianna caught the wistful note in her voice. ‘I wouldn't say that exactly. It's a bit complicated, Molly. But your turn will soon come. You'll have a string of beaux lined up to court you. You must be old enough to marry, with your mother's consent?'

‘Yes, I'm fourteen. Same age as Ma when she married. A fat lot of good it did her. But what choice was there? I was already on the way.'

‘I'm sorry your mother had a hard life, Molly. But one good thing came out of a bad marriage.
You.
You're very bright and pretty. You Currency Lasses are a new breed. You don't stand in awe of anyone. And you, Molly Baker, are special. You read and write well. You work hard and you're nobody's fool. The world is your oyster. Just make sure you fall in love with a decent man.'

‘I
did,
' Molly gave a heartfelt sigh.

Vianna's throat constricted. ‘You and Mungo Quayle get along very well.'

Molly smiled. ‘Any girl would. Who could help it?'

Does that mean Mungo has won her heart? I wouldn't put it past him.

Molly seemed to paint a brave smile on her face. ‘The servants take bets Mungo will beat Felix at getting you into bed. Sorry!' Molly looked stricken. ‘Don't be cross, Fanny. That's as close as assigned servants ever come to romance. Me, too!'

Vianna turned the pony cart back into the traffic. ‘Nonsense, I'll teach you a few tricks, how to fix your hair, when to talk and when to hang on a man's words. How to tease men and make them want you, without actually giving them what they want.'

Molly looked startled. ‘How do you know all that stuff?'

‘I used to be – used to
have
a lady's maid. I could transform you into a fine young lady, just like that.' Vianna snapped her fingers.

Molly's laugh had a bitter edge. ‘Can you imagine what people would say? Me, a convict's daughter. A Fallen Woman to boot.'

Molly's face turned pink as if trapped by her careless words.

So some likely lad has already seduced her. Yet she's naïve about men. I'm not quite sure what I've stumbled upon here. I'd best tread carefully.

They were silenced by the sight of an elegant woman being helped into a carriage by a young man. His hair obscured his face when he kissed the older woman's hand in a gallant gesture of farewell – and was rewarded by her intimate smile.

‘Don't look back!' Vianna flicked the whip and quickened the pony's pace.

Molly could hardly contain herself. ‘Mrs L'Estrange! What on earth is she doing with that young man?'

‘I don't know, Molly, but promise me you'll never breathe a word to
anyone
.'

Molly covered her mouth in horror. ‘So you think she's having an
affair?
'

‘If she is, it's strictly her business. Who could blame her? Not me. Men get away with it. What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.'

Vianna pulled up around the corner in front of a public house, where a sign swung over the door painted with a rampant red dragon.

‘Not here! That's where Father used to work,' Molly cried.

She turned to look at Molly's pretty, snub-nosed profile, her tremulous smile and stubborn little chin – but the girl's hands were clenched in tight balls, a vivid reminder of her terror of her father that day in the garden.

Jos Baker was bounding across the road towards them.

‘Don't worry, Molly, he won't dare attack you while I'm around.'

The stubborn pony wouldn't budge. She flicked it with the end of her reins.

Baker blocked their path. He gripped Molly's shoulder.

‘Molly, love, how about a kiss for your old dad?'

His eyes were bleary, his mouth loose. Molly was rigid with fright. Vianna's voice was loud enough for passers-by to turn their heads. ‘Let go of Molly, or I'll call a constable, you bully!'

‘I know you! Severin's whore. The Sydney Venus. Come down in the world by the looks of you. Well you ain't putting my daughter on the game!'

Vianna swung her parasol high in the air and brought it crashing down on Baker's head, wielding it like a meat cleaver until he yelled and stumbled. The pony chose that moment to charge, so that the wheels bumped over his legs. Baker's howls of outrage didn't fade until they had turned the corner.

Molly was stunned. ‘You're such a lady. I didn't know you had it in you.'

‘Neither did I!' Vianna answered. They looked at the shattered spikes of the parasol and suddenly burst out into peals of laughter that brought tears with them.

Vianna drove the battered old cart in the same style she would drive a phaeton, aware of the gentlemen who stopped to observe her progress and doff their hats.

‘Tomorrow I'm going to give you a lesson in fixing your hair. And we'll make you a new dress. You're not a child anymore, Molly. Men are beginning to notice you.'

‘Only one man counts, Fanny. Do you think I'd have a chance with him if I looked like a lady, like you, instead of a schoolgirl?'

Vianna felt a sudden, sharp twinge of jealousy. ‘I'm sure of it, Molly.'

The short-lived dusk was fast darkening to a coal-grey wash stained by scarlet on the horizon by the time Mungo returned to Great Rockingham Street. He felt Sandy had given him a reprieve not from death but from facing the dark side of his nature – that he was capable of murder. He had shared his fears with the one man he was sure he could trust. Sandy was more than a physician, he was a friend for all seasons.

Will my memories of those two blank days return spontaneously? Time is running out.

He assumed his light-hearted mask when it was Molly who greeted him at the front door instead of the housekeeper or Old Crawford.

‘What are you doing here, Molly?'

‘Mrs L'Estrange's new housekeeper was caught in the cellar, full as a boot, so she's been packed back to The Factory. Old Crawford's not himself today. He thinks he's a chef and he's driving Ma crazy in the kitchen. So I'm filling in for a bit.'

‘You've done something clever with your hair.'

‘You like it? Fanny's taken me under her wing. Whoops, I nearly forgot. The Mistress wants to see you right away, it's important,' she said.

Mungo found Albruna L'Estrange in her sitting room. To his surprise, she rang the bell for tea.
That's a turn up for the books. She's almost treating me like one of the family. And she looks different somehow. Younger, more alive. What's up?

Over the sort of afternoon tea usually reserved for guests, Albruna complimented him on his progress working for the family, before coming to the point. ‘There are two matters I am wishing to discuss with you, Mungo. The first concerns your search for the child. The dead end at
Goulouga
was most disappointing. We must explore all other avenues. Here is the name and address of a clerk at the Law Courts, with whom I have had contact in my work with destitute women and children. Morris has agreed to contact us about future
court cases involving any girls around Daisy's age – no matter what name is listed.'

‘Thank you, Mrs L'Estrange. I'm most grateful for your help – so is her sister.'

‘Your search must seem like looking for the needle in the haystack, but you and I have one thing in common. We never give up on a cause.' She hesitated. ‘I understand this child is connected with that young woman – your house guest? Fanny?'

Is she fishing for information because she suspects Felix is involved with her, or because she hopes Fanny is
my
woman? Whatever the case, I'd best throw in a grain of truth to make the story ring true.

‘You're quite right. Daisy is the stepsister of my guest, Fanny Byron, a young lady, new to the Colony. She was forced to leave her position when her master made improper advances to her.'

‘A sad tale – all too common. Is this Fanny in need of employment here?'

Mungo almost choked on his tea. ‘Thank you but Fanny is using the time to increase her literacy skills. I offered her the loft as a temporary refuge – until we find Daisy. Then the sisters will be moving on.'

‘You have a good heart, Mungo Quayle. I regret to say I may have misjudged you in the past.'

‘The debt is all mine. If there's ever anything I can do to help you, just name it.'

Pleased to be offered a cue, she poured him a second cup of tea. ‘It happens there is something you could do for me. I need to have a large parcel delivered here – I must hide it.' She looked flustered. ‘I do not wish to draw attention to its arrival. It is my secret, you understand? You know how Sydney Town runs on gossip.'

‘I surely do. I'd be happy to collect it for you. I could store it out of sight in the stables until you make other plans.'

What the hell is she up to with this cloak and dagger stuff?

Her relief was almost palpable. She handed him a piece of paper. ‘This is the address.'

‘Consider it done.' Mungo bowed with true respect and took his leave of her.

He mulled over their conversation, strangely touched by her
unexpectedly vulnerable expression. The address was printed – no handwriting to give away the writer's identity – male or female.

Sounds like the gossip is true. I reckon Albruna L'Estrange has done something that would rock her place in society if it leaked out. She can't bring herself to tell Felix, her perfect son. So she came to
me
, the black sheep.

As Mungo made his way down the garden path to his mother's cottage, he steeled himself against the sight of the soft light of a hurricane lamp burning in Vianna's window.

As soon as I've found Daisy I'm off the hook. If she chooses to shack up with Felix at
Mookaboola,
that's their business. Just so long as I get her out of my life – and my head. Who am I kidding? I want her so badly she's driving me nuts.

Entering Jane's cottage, he was startled by the sight of the body on the couch.

Jesus, it's that kid. Toby the messenger boy. This is all I need.

The lad lay asleep, his skin two shades lighter than Mungo had seen it previously, clearly scrubbed clean after a bath and wearing one of Mungo's shirts like a nightshirt with its sleeves rolled up. The sight of his mother standing hands akimbo warned him he had better talk fast.

‘Sorry, Mam, I should have warned you I was expecting a message from the kid's employer – I wasn't expecting a house guest.'

Jane threw up her hands in exasperation but lowered her voice in respect for the sleeping child. ‘You mean to say you
knew
he was coming? You were just going to dump this little waif on my doorstep – like the orphan bandicoot, 'possums and flea-bitten pups you landed on me when you were a kid?' Her voice dropped to a hissed whisper. ‘To say nothing of the mermaid you abducted.'

‘Hey, leave Fanny out of it, Mam. She'll be gone in a few weeks. You can't see her kind living happily ever after in a stable, can you?' The note of bitterness in his words surprised him and quietened his mother.

Jane gestured to the sleeping child. ‘What about this poor little scrap? His legs are so bandy with rickets you could drive a bullock train between them. And he's so ravenous he's already eaten tomorrow's breakfast. Does his mother, that Essie woman, know he's
here? And what were
you
doing in a bawdy house anyway? You're supposed to be courting that mermaid upstairs!'

‘Fair go, Mam. Give a man a chance to answer one question at a time.'

‘He brought a letter. You'd better read it.'

Mungo was halfway through it when he sank down on a chair.

‘I told Mrs Navarro if she ever needed help to call on me. Well she does.'

‘How long is he going to stay here?'

‘How long is a piece of string?'

‘One night,' Jane warned. ‘Tomorrow you take Toby back where he belongs before the traps turn up on my doorstep and charge us with kidnapping!

‘Have a heart, Mam. Just look at the little tyke. He probably won't even reach his next birthday unless we feed him up.'

Mungo turned on her the sad, hangdog expression that had always worked for him as a kid. ‘I thought I could count on
you,
Mam.'