A Wicked Deception (13 page)

The mattress felt lumpy, extremely uncomfortable, and she could not help wondering what kind of person had lain on this bed before
, a man or a woman? Were they an innocent victim or a hardened criminal? A murderer may be? More likely some poor unfortunate miner who the major thought might have some information to impart.

Robbie said someone betrayed them.
He’d mentioned the police having spies. The redcoats had mounted their attack when only two or three hundred miners were left inside the stockade, the other six or seven hundred having gone back to their own tents to spend the night. How despicable to betray your friends. This would have to count as one of the foulest deeds a person could perpetrate.

Morning at last. The sun’s gentle rays
edging through the slit of a window lightened the darkness of her prison. Glancing down at her crumpled gown she felt terrible, and no doubt looked even worse. She pinned the loosened strands of hair back and tidied up her clothes as much as circumstances permitted.

The sound of a key turning in the lock had her
stumbling to the door. The same man who brought the meal last night, dumped a bowl of porridge, a slice of plain bread and a mug of tea on the floor without uttering so much as a word.

Hunger was a gnawing pain
gouging at her insides. The porridge was hot and not too unpalatable. Even the bread tasted fresh. The warm food lifted her spirits and the sun now streaming through the gaps chased away all the fears of last night. Major Douglas would want to interrogate her again, but she felt more able to cope with him now. Her fear filled night, rather than break down her resolve, had somehow strengthened it.

If
Douglas thought he would be facing some timid, broken specimen he was mistaken. The birth of a new day replenished her courage, and she wasn’t afraid anymore.

“I hope you’re going to be more reasonable this morning, Miss O’Dea,” the sergeant said when he came for her. She held her head high without answering. Following him down the corridor she noticed that the cells on either side were still crammed with miners.

Outside the major’s office the sergeant motioned for her to stop. “There’s quite a little reception committee waiting for you. Some of the prominent citizens are represented, as well as the police and the army. Those rebels, Peter Lalor especially, are wanted badly.”

As he opened the door a fraction, she heard the murmur of voices then the major’s clipped tones. “Our most promising source of information will be with us soon
, gentlemen. The prisoner proved to be stubborn yesterday, but I guarantee a night in solitary confinement will have loosened her tongue.”

“Her? You mean your prisoner is a woman?” It sounded like Michael’s voice. He couldn’t be here, and yet
… why not? He belonged to the gentry.

“Bring the prisoner forward, sergeant.” She held herself proudly as she entered the room. Apart from the major, two other men
sat in the room, one a police officer, the other Michael Guilford.

Her
gaze flew to his face. His skin bleached of color and shock darkened his eyes to violet. He recovered himself quickly, however, giving no further sign of recognition.

“Now, Miss O’Dea, let me introduce you to Commissioner Browning, and
….” Major Douglas hesitated for effect, “The Honorable Michael Guilford representing the local community who want an end to this civil unrest.”

“You are in serious trouble, Miss O’Dea,” the
commissioner said sternly, “but if you’re prepared to cooperate with us, your part in the rebellion will be overlooked.”

“I don’t know where Robbie is
. If I did, I still wouldn’t tell you.”

The
commissioner, with the help of Major Douglas, kept firing questions, one after the other, in an endeavor to confuse her. Michael remained silent, his face set into grim lines. The fact he had aligned himself with these men who hunted James and Robbie, was one of the hardest things she had ever endured. Compared to his betrayal, a night in solitary confinement verged on paradise.

“You will tell us what you know.” Major Douglas glared at her.

“I don’t know where Robbie is.” Had Michael mentioned anything about seeing them at the hut? Could it be for some unknown reason, he had kept this information to himself?

“There are ways and means of making rebels like you tell us what we want to know.” Major Douglas stood
ramrod straight, stiff legged, his cold stare boring into her face.

“You can put me on the rack, flog me at the triangle even, but I’d cut my tongue out before I betrayed my friends.
”

An angry hiss escaped him
. The back of his hand slammed into her mouth. Her head snapped back with the force of the blow and she tasted blood where his signet ring tore her lip.

“I don’t feel there’s any need for brutality,” the
commissioner protested.

It should have been Michael jumping to her defense, but he sat there, his blazing eyes standing out starkly against his white face. He was angry,
obviously not with Major Douglas, but with her for being so stubborn.

Her eyes flashed defiance, as she
used her fingers to wipe a trickle of blood away from her now throbbing lip.

“I think she should be sent to
Melbourne immediately to avoid further trouble,” the commissioner suggested. “If it got out about her being held prisoner here there would be an outcry, her family have lived in the district for years. You know how these colonials like to rebel against the crown.”

“Yes, get her out of Ballarat quietly, no fuss, no bother.
” Michael suggested with a bored yawn. “The locals need never know she was ever here. Put her on the first available coach to Melbourne.”

“Maybe it would be better if we kept her here,” Major Douglas mused.

“For heaven’s sake, Douglas, put her on the coach and forget about it.” Michael turned to the commissioner. “Did I tell you I intend returning to England in a day or so?”

“I hope your ship sinks, Michael, or you fall overboard.”
She glared at him, and if looks could have killed he would be lying dead on the floor.

The three men laughed. “You know her,
Guilford?” the major asked.

“Yes, I became acquainted with her family when I first arrived in the colony. She worked in my laundry for a time
, but unfortunately, didn’t have the necessary stamina.”

Bitterness gave way to fury. She wanted to throw herself at him, pummel him with her fists or scratch his eyes right out of his head. He would have to be the most contemptible man she had ever met
. To think he had once been her hero.

The men argued for a time, until they finally reached a decision
. She would be taken by coach to Melbourne and handed over to the authorities there. With a heart full of bitterness she accompanied the sergeant back to her cell. Michael’s betrayal had cut deep.
I hope Priscilla makes life hell for him.
Bitter tears coursed down her cheeks, their saltiness burning her lacerated lip.

***

Next morning after a meager breakfast, the sergeant escorted her outside the jail to where a carriage waited. “Major Douglas has made arrangements for us to go to Melbourne on the coach. I have orders to take you home so you can change into something more suitable for your journey.”

The sergeant, having given his instructions
, seemed disinclined to speak and Melanie had nothing left to say. The hot sun beating down on her unprotected head made it throb, and she gave a low cry of relief when they arrived at the homestead.

Nestled peacefully in the shadow of the mountain, it was surrounded by shrubs and creepers
, gums and stringy barks. A large red bottlebrush was covered in scarlet blooms. Pink climbing roses almost covered one side of the woodshed, and tears filled her eyes at the thought it might be weeks, months even, before she could return home.

“Am I allowed to pack a bag?”

“No. My orders were that you make yourself more presentable.”

On entering the homestead
kitchen, a layer of fine dust covered the table and mantel.

“I’ll wait
here, Miss.” The sergeant hooked a chair over with his foot and sat on it. “Don’t try escaping. You can have five minutes.”

She
scuttled into her bedroom. A glance in the mirror confirmed how frightful she looked. Her eyes were huge, sunken, with dark bruising beneath them, and her skin was pale and transparent, her lip swollen and painful to touch. Never before had a man raised his hand to her in anger.

Undressing quickly, she washed and put on a clean cotton shift and pantaloons, over this went her petticoats and a sprigged muslin gown. She put on a matching bonnet
, but her hands trembled so much she had trouble fastening the ribbon under her chin.

She p
laced a hairbrush, a bottle of toilet water, a money purse, and a clean handkerchief into a small bag. Surely the sergeant couldn’t object to this?

In the kitchen,
the sergeant now paced up and down in front of the hearth, although he stopped immediately on seeing her approach. He scrutinized her carefully. His look of shocked surprise and admiration at her changed appearance would have been flattering at any other time. He saw her for the first time as a woman and she felt a sudden twinge of unease.

She
scribbled a note to the shepherd asking him to feed the poultry, and attend to the milking until James returned. He had worked for the family for years and saw to things if they went away, but to be sure, she attached the note to the door where he couldn’t fail to see it.

The sergeant helped her into the carriage before climbing up to his own seat
. The countryside dozed serenely in the December sun. Soon it would be Christmas. How would they spend it this year? Uncle Alex would probably stay at the diggings now. James and Robbie could be anywhere, while she might be in prison.

They did not return to the jail
. The sergeant drove straight to where a coach waited, the horses harnessed ready to go. He left the carriage and horses at the side of the road and prodded her ahead of him. The coach driver leered at her before spitting out a wad of tobacco near her foot, the filthy beast. The sergeant pushed her into the coach and climbed in beside her.

Two male passengers sat in the coach. One wore the rough garb of a miner who, by the grin on his face, had recently struck it rich, and was celebrating. The other passenger, a portly gentleman, wore a knee length jacket with matching trousers, and a brightly
colored cravat about his throat. Both men stared at her with interest. The gentleman doffed his hat, although he made no effort to speak, while the miner kept on grinning.

“Off to
Melbourne on holiday, Miss?” The portly gentleman asked.

If only he knew. She forced herself to return his smile, but did not answer. What could she say?

Closing her eyes, she recalled the happenings of the past few days. A never-ending nightmare, awake or asleep it made no difference. Her eyes grew heavy and finally closed as the movement of the coach lulled her into sleep.

Melanie awoke with a start when the coach came to a lurching halt.

“Bail up.”

A bushranger was holding up their coach. Oh God, what more could possibly happen to her?

“Everyone out,” the outlaw growled.

On faltering legs
, she clambered down to the roadway, watching the masked man who stood with a pistol in either hand. He looked tall, but this was all she could tell about him since a red kerchief covered his mouth and nose, and he wore his hat pulled right down over his forehead.

“Hand over your gold.”

“There isn’t any gold on this coach,” the driver sniveled. “Only passengers.”

“Come now,” the bushranger’s voice sounded deep, gravelly. “This is the gold coach from Ballarat.”

“No, no.” The driver wrung his hands in anguish. “Please, mister, there’s no gold, only passengers. Have mercy on me. I have a wife and seven children.”

She despised his blubbering,
while even the sergeant made no attempt to challenge this creature.

“The gold coach isn’t due for another three hours.” The sergeant finally found his voice.

“I bailed up the wrong coach? Well, what have you got of value to make it worth my while? Turn out your pockets. On second thoughts, I have enough trinkets, but a pretty face is always a welcome diversion.” He leered at her. “The rest of you get back in the coach, the wench stays with me.”

H
orror turned her insides to jelly as the three men boarded the coach. “You can’t leave me with this, this, brute. Please,” she beseeched. “Have you no decency?”

“You mean nothing to me, girl, why should I get myself shot for you?” the miner whined. “Every man’s entitled to a bit of fun now and again.”

“You wretched, sniveling cowards.” She turned to face the sergeant. “You can’t let this … this outlaw abduct me. What kind of soldier would let his prisoner be kidnapped from under his nose?” The sergeant turned his head away.