The Lace Balcony (58 page)

So that's why the whole L'Estrange mob has their eye on the kid.

When the conversation erupted into a lively debate about colonial politics beyond the boy's understanding, Felix gave Toby his full attention. ‘Mungo is something of a snake-charmer. I suppose he's told you about our poisonous snakes.'

‘Yes,' Toby confided, ‘one night a Tiger Snake slept on his belly all night to keep warm. But just imagine – if it had bitten him
down there
.'

All heads instantly swivelled to focus on Toby, so Mungo broke in quickly. ‘Hey, Toby, do you know story of the Rainbow Serpent?'

Mungo launched into the tale with alacrity, dramatising the Aboriginal story of the creation of the world in the Dreamtime, when the whole earth lay sleeping underground and how the Rainbow Serpent travelled the land and created the lakes, rivers, grass, trees and mountains. He was suddenly conscious everyone was watching Toby's wide-eyed expression.

‘One by one all the animals woke up – kangaroos, emus, opossums, bandicoots, snakes – all of them happy to follow the Rainbow Serpent across the land. She was like their mother, the Mother of Life. She made strict laws. The good animals who obeyed her laws, she turned into people.'

‘Magic,' Toby said breathlessly.

‘Yes. But the bad animals who broke her laws she turned into mountains and hills so they could never walk the earth again.'

Toby looked worried, so Mungo hurried on.

‘The Rainbow Serpent was very wise. She divided the people into different tribes, each with its own animal totem – the name of their special animal. So native hunters are allowed to kill and eat all animals
except
that one animal that is their totem. Can you see why the Rainbow Snake made that law?'

All the guest and servants were absorbed in the child's wide-eyed reaction.

Toby thought hard. ‘So no one would ever go hungry?'

‘Exactly! So there would always be food left for other tribes who followed after them. It taught them to share what the land produced and not be greedy. Clever boy, Toby,' Mungo said with pride, looking straight at Felix.

Toby confided in the guests all that Mungo had told him about the King Brown, the most poisonous of all snakes.

Mungo and Felix both cast a meaningful look at the covered painting at the far end of the room. Both checked their watches. Time was racing.

When the final course of platters of exotic fruits, cheeses and
petits fours
were placed on the table, their glasses were refilled. Felix rose to his feet and, overcoming his customary shyness, proposed a series of toasts to his parents, absent friends and the present honoured guests who had travelled here to make his father's fiftieth birthday memorable.

In turn the men were upstanding, glasses raised for many toasts, including Kentigern's health and that of Their Majesties King William and Queen Adelaide.

Their host reneged on one. ‘You'll forgive me if I decline to toast Governor Darling. I cannot forgive the man for his negligence in sending a stay of execution to William Eden –
after
the lad was hanged.'

Magistrate Kennedy broke the uncomfortable silence. ‘Darling will be on the high seas before the year is out. Perhaps we'll fair better under Sir Richard Bourke.'

The conversation switched to speculation about Darling's successor.

Mungo said to Felix under his breath, ‘If you don't, I will!'

Felix jumped to his feet. ‘Forgive me. Father had specifically requested me to call on him to make a s
pecial
speech. Ladies and gentlemen, Master Toby, I give you your host, Kentigern L'Estrange.'

All turned to their host with murmurs of encouragement, aware the exercise was painful due to the remaining impediment in his speech.

Kentigern gave Felix a frosty glare, but rose and looked around the table.

‘If you expect me to deliver a stream of
bon mots
covering fifty years, I must disappoint you. But no man who knows me would say that my life has been an open book – until tonight!'

Mungo gripped his wineglass.
Oh God, what's he going to say next?

‘I must thank this Highlander, Sandy Gordon, for giving me confidence that I shall live to enjoy a few more years – now I have a modern physician and I stopped that previous old quack bleeding the lifeblood out of me!'

He held up a hand to stave off the murmurs. ‘I'm aware there are two schools of thought, but I'm living proof that blood-letting played no part in my recovery.'

His voice rose. ‘I shall now surprise and shock every one of you.' He eyed each in turn, daring them to prevent it. ‘I intend to introduce you to a woman in my life who has never received the praise that is her due – for the long years she has suffered my demanding company.'

‘I ask Mrs L'Estrange's indulgence if I introduce this
other
woman to you for the first time. A woman no longer young, but with a beauty beyond youth.'

Mungo and Felix looked at each other in horror.

My mother! I don't believe this is happening. And Mrs Less looks as if she's stopped breathing.

Turning his back on his guests, Kentigern leaned on his stick to swagger towards the door. Instead he stopped short, and tore the linen cover from the painting.

‘May I present to you, through the eyes of Jean-Baptiste Bonnard, a woman of great beauty – Albruna L'Estrange.'

Rising as one to their feet, the guests broke into a hearty round of applause before clustering around the painting and offering genuinely warm tributes.

‘This calls for another lemonade, eh, Toby?' said Mungo and they raised their glasses in a toast to each other.

His duty done, Kentigern silently challenged his sons with a look that said, ‘Are you both satisfied now?'

The painting duly acclaimed by all, Felix shepherded everyone out onto the front terrace to witness the final surprise of the evening. Felix stood framed by the wrought-iron arch over the entrance. He signalled a young groom, who handed him the reins of a superb black stallion whose coat was like burnished ebony, no saddle to disguise the perfect lines of its body.

‘May I introduce you to Kaiser, Father – my birthday present to you.'

Kentigern's surprise and delight were unbounded and he embraced Felix before he hobbled down the steps to take possession of his thoroughbred. Mungo held back, allowing everyone to admire the horse and congratulate Felix on his choice. He had no wish to diminish this moment of Felix's triumph.

At the point at which the horse was about to be returned to the stables, Mungo handed the gift to Toby. ‘Your turn now, mate.'

Toby presented the parcel to his host with a deep bow.

‘What's this? Another present? I thank you, lad. Here, help me open it.'

Together they unwrapped the parcel to reveal a fine green horse blanket with the name
Kaiser
beautifully embroidered within a gold laurel wreath.

Kentigern's sharp glance at Mungo signalled his awareness that Jane Quayle had made the gift. ‘A perfect present for a perfect horse,' Kentigern said as he placed the blanket respectfully over Kaiser's back.

His spontaneous applause was taken up by everyone. His invitation to Toby, ‘I insist you ride out with me one day soon, lad,' set off the lad's beatific smile.

Mungo had a strong sense of mission accomplished and clapped Felix on the shoulder as they re-entered the house. ‘You're a fine judge of horseflesh, I'll say that for you. Best gift you could give a man who has everything. The perfect stallion.'

Felix acknowledged the words with an equally quiet, ‘I picked up a few tips along the way – from my half-a-brother.'

Unprompted, Toby bowed and thanked his host and hostess. Mungo used the lad as an excuse to beg off from joining the men in the games room for a nightcap. He piggy-backed Toby home to Jane's cottage, where she quickly prepared the weary lad for bed. Her strained expression unsettled Mungo and he hung around until she blew out the bedside candle. Toby, wearing Mungo's cut-down shirt as a nightshirt, was already sound asleep.

Mungo joined her at the table, where he poured himself a drink. ‘I've abstained from grog all night on account of the nipper. Time to catch up. Life to man and death to fish,' he toasted hastily and gulped down a mouthful of whisky with satisfaction. Jane waved the bottle aside and remained silent.

‘Okay, Mam. What's up? I can read you like a book.'

‘I take it the evening was a success?'

‘Perfect – if
you'd
been there. Toby thought it was Christmas. It began like the War of the Roses, but after Felix and I joined forces – yeah, I know that's a turn up for the books, but we
did
. We made sure it ended well. That is, I thought it had, until I walked in here and saw your face. Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or do I have to drag it out of you with hot tongs?'

‘It's not my place. It's for Vianna to tell you.'

Mungo beat his fist against his forehead in mock despair. ‘Tell me now!'

‘I'll not say another word. I can only say it's
not
her fault.'

Mungo kissed the crown of her head. ‘I'll know soon enough. Her light's still on, so I reckon she's waiting for me. See you tomorrow, Mam.' He returned to peer around the door. ‘Kaiser's blanket was a great success. Father will thank you himself, no doubt.'

And he was gone again.

•  •  •

In the old schoolroom, Mungo cleaned his teeth, brushed his hair and knotted a fresh navy blue neckcloth to match his evening tailcoat before inspecting his appearance in the full-length mirror. He told his reflection, ‘You're God's gift to women, mate. If Vianna doesn't recognise that, she's not worth a farthing.'

The man in the mirror was clearly far from convinced.

He placed in his pocket the purse of sovereigns he had won on Boadicea and headed towards the stables. The garden was a whirlpool of perfumes – natives, exotics and Elizabethan roses. Halfway down the path he paused to take stock of his intended speech, but the well-rehearsed thoughts splintered into fragments beyond his control. So he gave up on the exercise and instead said the words under his breath.

‘Here goes, Will. I'm throwing my hat in the ring. It's tonight or never. Speak now or forever hold your peace.'

The only response was the snuffling snarl of a goanna or some other bush animal concealed in the shrubs.
Probably a descendant of one of the injured ones I brought home as a kid for Mam to cure.

His mother's cottage lay silent, its blinds drawn. Vianna's light shone like a last tiny beacon of hope in an ocean of darkness. The sky was black, storm clouds screening the stars from sight as rain suddenly descended in a tropical thunderstorm.

Mungo crossed his fingers, knocked on Vianna's door before he pushed it open and was about to climb the ladder with confidence. Suddenly he caught the unaccustomed scent of perfume in a place that always smelled of hay and lineament.

Inside her front door was a large basket of flowers. Expensive. Exotic. Tied by a scarlet ribbon was a card marked ‘Madame Vianna Francis – from Severin.'

Mungo felt suddenly cold as steel. He did not know whether to charge up the stairs and take what belonged to him by force. Or walk out the door, ride Boadicea into the bush beyond the horizon and never return.

Vianna's voice called softly from the loft upstairs.

‘Is that you, Mungo?'

‘Yeah. Who
else
would it be?'

Kentigern L'Estrange's last guests had departed. Rockingham Hall and the garden oasis lay in darkness except for a single oil lamp that burned in the hall throughout the night.

Candlelight was kind to the image in Vianna's looking-glass. Swelling no longer distorted her features. Her bruises had faded from purple through magenta to saffron yellow and were now no more than fine traces of shadow that might easily be attributed to long nights of study.

Jane had nursed her tenderly and with confidence. Vianna was grateful she had asked no awkward questions following Vianna's assurance that her special herbal remedy had not caused any sign of bleeding. In Jane's eyes that meant she was not with child. Vianna vowed she would never tell anyone of Dr Gordon's verdict. And Mungo must never know about Severin's act of rape.
He'd kill Severin in revenge.

Vianna had dressed with care in anticipation of Mungo's first visit in weeks. The newly fashionable pelerine fanned out like a wide flat collar covering her shoulders to frame the deep V-neckline of the gown she had sewn herself. The material was inexpensive but the new tight waistline and braid border of the skirt gave it a distinctly French á la mode air. She had piled her hair high on the crown, artfully arranging side tendrils to conceal the last fading bruises on her neck. Severin's fingerprints were the marks on her body of his anger and frustration. His signature.

She acknowledged to herself that her visit to Charlotte Place had been wilful stupidity. Since then she had lived like a nun, studying diligently, never stepping outside her front door, not only to conceal her wounds but in an attempt to conceal from Severin her residence in Mungo's loft.

Severin was wrong. I
do
have a brain for book learning. And I
can
live without luxury – until I earn it by my own efforts.

Playful images filled her imagination . . . designing gowns for the gentry, owning her own fancy goods store. She held imaginary
conversations with Mrs Mary Reiby, asking her advice.
I may not have Mrs Reiby's business head – but youth and good looks work in a woman's favour. If I can learn to read and write, I can learn to handle my own money and build my own fortune!