The Pride of the Peacock (27 page)

another said “My third visit. Speaks for itself.”

The discovery of the book had made real people of Ethel and James, and I deeply hoped they had survived the destruction of their property.

Joss was looking over my shoulder.

“Oh, I see, a hotel register. Look and see when the last guest was here. That should give us some idea of the date of the fire.” I looked. A Tom Best and Harry Wakers had stayed three months before.

“As recent as that,” commented Joss.

“I wonder what happened to James and Ethel Trant.”

“Who can say? Now we’ve got to rest. Don’t forget we must be up at the crack of dawn.”

“Somehow I don’t like the idea of staying here.”

He laughed aloud.

“It’s a shelter. Not much but a bit. There’s water close by for the horses and a bit of grass too.

We’re in luck. Oh, I know you were thinking 01 a coimonauic bed, but things don’t always work out that way in the Bush. Here, hold the candle. “

I did so while he spread the blanket on the rough charred floor. He took the candle from me and, tilting it, let some of its grease drip on to the floor and in this he stuck the candle so that it was held upright.

How long do you think that will last? “I asked.

“A few hours, with luck. It’s amazing good fortune to have found it.

You appreciate your luck out here. “

“I should think one should anywhere.”

I sat down on the spread-out blanket, still holding the register in my hand. I turned the pages glandng idly at the names and comments. Then one name leaped out at me.

“Desmond Dereham, June 1879’ and his comment: ” I shall surely come again. “

“What’s the matter?” asked Joss.

My father stayed here. His name’s in the book. I think people ought to know the truth, that he did not succeed in stealing the Green Flash and that Ben had it all the time. It’ll have to be known that we have it. “

“We’ll see. It’s not a thing I want to decide quickly about. There’s so much depending on it.”

Perhaps he was right, I thought, and it was better that no one should know that we had the famous stone.

I glanced down at the book and saw David Croissant’s name.

There’s someone else we know,” I said.

Joss looked.

“I dare say I could find many people I know in that book.

This place was used by everyone. We might try and make a fire and boil some tea. I thought you and I would be sitting at mine host’s table and perhaps sharing a room as we did last night. Rooms are scarce in these homesteads, you know. They don’t cater for people with fastidious notions. That chair was damned uncomfortable. I was Idling myself I didn’t fancy repeating the experience and here am I doomed to spend the night on a smoke-ridden blanket in a burned-out homestead.

”

He had stretched himself out full length and was staring upwards at what was left of the roof, which in candlelight looked like some prehistoric insect. I could see stars through the gaps in the rafters.

He said: This is a good introduction to your life here. At least after this you’ll be prepared for anything. Are you sleepy 7

i6y

.
— - - . ^. 7 6”” ” uigui idsi mgnt, was it? A pity … and they said it was such a comfortable feather bed.”

He put out a hand and pulled me down beside him.

“Such a small blanket,” he said quietly.

I shrank to the edge of it.

“You disappoint me, Jessica,” he said.

“I didn’t think you’d be so easily frightened. Why don’t you be bold? Why don’t you prepare yourself for new experiences?”

“What experiences?”

^1 didn’t want to marry you any more than you wanted to marry me. We were two sensible people with eyes open to the main chance. This marriage suited us both. We stood to lose a lot if we didn’t go along with Ben. Well, now it’s done, why don’t we try to make something of it ? “

“I intend to learn all I can about the Company. I want to play a part in that.”

That’s not what I meant. You’re frightened. What a dilemma! Here you are alone in the burned-out inn with your husband. Don’t be such a child, Jessica. You’re a woman now. “

Tou promised,” I cried. Tou said you were too proud … ‘you are the most maddening woman I ever knew.”

“Because I’m not panting for you ?”

“Yes,” he cried.

“I wish to God…”

That you had refused Ben. You wouldn’t have done that, though, would you? You wanted Oakland, Peacocks and the Green Flash. It was unfortunate that you had to take me too, but that was part of the bargain. If you could be rid of me you’d be contented. You’ve shown me that. I’m not such a child that I can’t see it. I expect there’s someone else you’d like to many. That would be just like you . to take the main chance. Do you think I don’t understand you? I’m doing that more and more every day, and I don’t like what I discover. I wish. l I seemed to see Ben’s face rising before me, admonishing me, ‘now tell the troth, Jessie. Did you want to stay behind in the Dower House for the rest of your days ? “

Joss had risen. Tm going to see that the horses are safe,” he said, and he strode out leaving me alone.

As I looked about that burned-out inn a feeling of foreboding came to me. He didn’t want me. He resented me. It must have occurred to him how much more convenient it would be if I were not here. He wanted to be free and lose nothing by his freedom.

I could hear his voice echoing through my mind: “This is a country where life is cheap.” Bushrangers roamed the land. How easy it would be for him to kill me. He could find a hundred excuses for it.

“I went down to the horses …” I could hear his explanations.

“When I came back she was lying there dead … strangled … or shot.

There were bush rangers in the neighbourhood . Some jewels she was wearing were missing . so was some money she had . ” Or: ” She was not accustomed to riding in rough country. I’d given her lessons in England but this was different. She took a toss. I saw that her neck was broken . so I buried her close to the burned-out inn. “

Had he wanted to make love to me? Perhaps. Ben had implied that he was something of a rake. To make love and then to kill. There were people like that.

0 God, help me, I whispered and I thought: again I am asking Him when I’m in trouble. It’s the only time I pray, so what help can I expect ?

There was something about this place. Was it the dark, the pungent smell, was it the eeriness? My father had stayed here. Where was he now? Perhaps he was dead and his spirit haunted the place and he was warning me now. After all, I was his daughter.

Had Joss really gone to see the horses or would he come creeping up behind me. Nonsense, I told myself, this man is your husband.

My husband who was forced to marry me because he would gain a good deal if he did and lose it if he didn’t. He stood to keep everything and my share too if he disposed of me. I started. Footsteps, slow, stealthy, creeping up to the inn-and not from the direction of the river.

I was on my feet. I was at the door, crouching there. What was left of the door creaked as it was pushed open.

A man stepped into the inn. I heard his quick intake of breath, then he said: “Good God.”

I cried out and he spun round. I thought I was dreaming for it was David Croissant.

Mr. Croissant. ” I stammered. He stared at me.

“What… in God’s name…” I said: The inn was burned out. Joss and I had planned to stay here. “

Why, it’s Mrs. Madden. It gets stranger than ever. So you’re here.

Where’s Joss? We heard Joss coming then and David Croissant called out to him.

There were explanations. He had caught a ship in Cape Town about a week after he had seen us. He was on his way to the Fancy and had planned to stay at Trant’s.

“I was hoping for a plate of Ethel’s stew,” he said.

“My horses have had just about enough for today.”

“Strange you should turn up,” said Joss.

“We saw your name in an old register we found here.”

“Not surprising. I often stayed here. The most comfortable homestead for miles round. I wonder what became of poor James and Ethel.”

“I’ll show you where I’ve put our horses,” said Joss.

“Ifs a good spot. What have you got in your saddlebags?”

“We’ll see,” said David Croissant, and he went down to the water with Joss leading the way.

My feeling was one of immense relief because I was no longer alone with my husband.

It was not long before the two men were back from the horses and Joss made a fire and boiled a billy-can of tea. David produced cold chicken and Johnny cakes and we all ate, ravenously.

David talked as we ate about the many times he had stayed at the Trant Homestead.

“Used to make a regular thing of it. I stayed here once with Desmond Dereham. I wonder what happened to him and where he went with the Green Flash. His name will never be forgotten.”

“Not while people remember that Fancy Town was really named for him.”

“Ah, Desmond’s Fancy. That was what it was called, Mrs. Madden, before they got to work on it. That was before he’d stolen the Plash and disgraced himself. I’d like to know what happened to him and the stone. An opal like that shouldn’t be allowed to fall into oblivion in my opinion. I wonder if we shall ever see it again.”

“I wonder,” said Joss, and it was all I could do to keep quiet and not cry out that my father had not stolen the stone. It was only the fact that, according to Ben, he had intended to, which kept me quiet.

David Croissant had several blankets with him, so we were able to sleep more comfortably in the shelter of the burned-out inn.

We set out at dawn and I rode between the two men into the sunrise; and later that day we amvea ai me town wim-ii was so named because of my father’s certainty that he had found a prosperous opal field. And that day, for the first time, I saw my new home:

Peacocks.

7.

PEACOCKS

Fancy Town had sprung up on the banks of a creek which Nature, by great good fortune, had set near the opal field. Some of the workers lived in calico tents, but there were a few huts made of logs or mud bricks with rough chimneys of clay or bark; and the shops were like sheds, open on one side that their goods might be displayed. After the wide open spaces it was rather a depressing sight.

It was late afternoon when we arrived and the excitement our coming aroused indicated that visits were rare occurrences. Children came running out to stare at us-rather unkempt, most of them, which wasn’t surprising since the only homes they had were those huts and tents.

A man called to Joss: “Glad to see you back, sir.”

Thanks, Mac,” answered Joss.

“Sorry about Mr. Henniker, sir.”

Joss said that it was indeed sad news.

Peacocks was about a mile from the town, and what a contrast to that poor place. We tamed into a gate and before us lay a drive of about a quarter of a mile to the house, which was built in the old Colonial style-gradous and shining white in the clean air. The porch and terrace were supported by rather ornate pillars which had a Grecian touch, but the house itself was period less-it had something Gothic, Queen Anne and Tudor about it-and the intermingling was not without charm.

A peacock appropriately appeared on the lawn followed by his meek little peahen; he strutted along beside the terrace as though asking for our admiration. The lawns were so immaculately kept that one would have thought they had been there for hundreds of years. In fact the immediate impression was that the house was posing as an ancient mansion, which it obviously could not have been, but was not quite sure which age it was meant to represent.

Take the horses, Tom,” said Joss.

“Who’s at home?”

Mrs. Laud, sir, Mr. Jimson and Miss Lilias. “

“Well, let someone tell them we’ve arrived.”

We dismounted and Joss took my arm as we went up the steps to the porch, David Croissant following. The door was open so we stepped into the hall. It was cool inside the house for the thin wooden Venetian blinds were slatted to shut out the fierce sunlight. The hall was large and lofty with a floor of mosaic paving all in peacock blue. In the centre was one large flagstone in which was depicted a magnificent peacock.

The motif of the house,” said Joss, following my gaze.

“Ben decided to call the house Peacocks and to have plenty of the aforementioned strutting around. I’d like to tell you that Peacocks will always belong to this family as long as there are peacocks here, but it wouldn’t be any use, for we don’t have those legends and old traditions here. We’re too young a country. One thing Ben was determined on, and that was that everyone who set foot in the house would know it was Peacocks. There’s something to remind you everywhere.”

There was a wide staircase winding up from the hall, and I saw a woman standing there watching us. She must have been standing there for some seconds listening to Joss’s ex planation.

He saw her as soon as I did.

“Ah, Mrs. Laud,” he said.

She came down the stairs a tall, slender woman with fine greying hair which she wore parted in the centre and brought down to a knob in the nape of her neck. Her gown was of grey-high-necked with a very clean white collar and cuffs. The utmost simplicity of her dress gave her the appearance of a Quaker.

“Mrs. Laud!” cried Joss.

“I’ve got a surprise for you. This is my wife.” She turned a shade paler and clutched at the banisters as though to support herself. She looked bewildered and then a faint smile touched her lips.

“It’s one of your jokes, Mr. Madden,” she said.

Joss slipped his arm through mine and drew me forward.

“No joke at all, is it, Jessica? We were married in England. Ben came to our wedding’ She came down the stairs rather slowly. Her face had puckered a little, and for a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears.

She said shakily: The sad news of Mr. Henniker’s death reached us only

a week ago. You didn’t mention . your marriage “No. That was to be a surprise.”