Dorothy Eden (39 page)

‘Just to the stables, Mamma.’

‘You spend too much time at the stables. Why don’t you sit quietly in the garden with Lucy and me? It’s much too hot to rush about.’

‘I have to exercise Poacher, Mamma.’

‘Jem seems to manage that very well when you’re at school.’

‘But he’s my horse, Mamma. When I’m home I have to do it.’

‘Very well, then. But don’t get over-heated. And I want you back in time for tea. Mrs Bishop and Mrs Stevenson are driving out from Parramatta. They have expressed a special wish to see you.’

So there would be no time to stop at the winery, was virtually what Mamma was saying. She was well aware that Adelaide had a habit of doing that, and that if a cask were in the process of being bottled Papa or Jem permitted her to taste the contents. What she didn’t know was that Adelaide already had quite a palate. She could pronounce almost as accurately as her father which wine would improve with keeping, which would go sour and thin.

Gilbert would roar with delighted laughter as Adelaide rolled the wine round her mouth, reflected, then spat it out. Jem watched with intensity, his expression suggesting that the spectacle was more interesting than the verdict. Jem was getting near thirty now, and whether or not he had a girl in Parramatta was not known. He had never shown any interest in the maids at Yarrabee, to the chagrin of Ellen in particular. She had been kind to Jem ever since he had arrived as a skinny starved lad straight off a convict ship. She was older than him, of course, but that didn’t seem to matter since the master had singled out Jem to be his assistant. He was as important, or more important, than Tom Sloan, and it wouldn’t have been a bit like marrying someone beneath her if he had shown a fancy for Ellen.

But he didn’t. His serious face, neither handsome nor plain, only became young and animated when the children were about. Particularly Miss Adelaide. And she was a spoilt precocious miss in Ellen’s view. It was Kit’s business to learn the wine, not Adelaide’s. So it had been the wisest thing the mistress had done to send Adelaide off to school. As she grew to be a fashionable young lady Jem would realize his place.

Lucy had never set foot in the winery. She had paused timidly at the door one day, caught the waft of sour wine, and been nauseated in exactly the same way as her mother. Her father had told her gruffly to keep away. To stay with her mother and keep out of the hot sun.

She was very much in awe of her father. She never knew what to say to him, and believed that he found her stupid and too timid. She knew that she was much prettier than Adelaide, yet it was always Adelaide who got the hearty greeting and the admiring glance. Even when she was dressed for church on Sundays, and Mamma and Ellen and Miss Higgins had all admired her immaculate little person, telling her she was as pretty as a picture, Papa scarcely gave her a look. He would bundle her into the buggy beside Mamma, paying no heed to whether or not he rumpled her frock, and if she cried, as she often did, silently and in furious shame, he would say impatiently, ‘What’s she blubbering about now?’

She would really have been blissfully happy if she had only needed to see Papa say once a week. She didn’t think she liked men very much. They had such loud voices. Even Kit shouted at her when he came home from school, expecting her to fetch and carry for him. He had had slaves at school, he said. Now he was home she would have to do instead. On the whole his demands were innocent enough, but there was one thing that worried her intensely. Every now and then he would slip a letter into her reticule, and ask her to post it when she was in Parramatta. The letter was always addressed to Miss Rose Jarvis.

There didn’t seem to be much harm in Kit writing to Rosie, so why did it need to be so secret? Kit had impressed on her that she must never let Mamma see her posting the letters. She must make an excuse to go into the little post office, where the postmistress also sold haberdashery and sweets. Surely she always needed a reel of cotton or something.

It was easy enough to do this, but the deception kept Lucy awake at nights. She had never had secrets from Mamma. She had an uneasy feeling that Kit was using her in this way because he enjoyed his power over her. Men really could be beastly.

The ball had been a milestone in Yarrabee’s history, but late that autumn a much more important event was to happen.

Eugenia wrote to Sarah,

‘What do you think, we are to have a vice-regal visit! You will remember my telling you that our Governor, Sir George Gipps, had returned to England, and that his place had been taken by Sir Charles Fitzroy and his wife Lady Mary. Well, they have expressed a wish to not only come here to inspect the vineyard (which Gilbert, by his dedicated endeavours, is making famous) but to spend an entire weekend. Lady Mary says flatteringly that she has heard about my garden, and confesses she will find that more interesting than grape vines and wineries.

‘Gilbert is extremely pleased, he is walking about like a dog with two tails, and I admit that I find the prospect exciting and challenging. In Australia entertaining the Governor and his lady is comparable to entertaining the Queen and Prince Albert at home. Though rather less formal.

‘So you can imagine the flurry we are in. As well as Sir Charles and Lady Mary there will be their son Mr George Fitzroy and Colonel Mundy, Adjutant General. And Lady Mary’s maid, and a valet and a coachman. We have enough bedrooms, and are hastily having the largest of these refurbished for the vice-regal pair. It fortunately has its own dressing-room. Kit is moving out of his room to allow George Fitzroy to occupy it, and Colonel Mundy will be accommodated in one of the small west rooms. I will make my sitting-room available for Lady Mary’s use, and the men may play billiards or read the newspapers in the library.

‘Adelaide has permission to come home from school that weekend. Although she is only fifteen she is very mature in many ways, and it will do her good to meet a sophisticated and, I hear, good-looking young Englishman like George Fitzroy. My little Lucy is still too young for these excitements. She has remained a child much longer than Adelaide did, rather to my selfish pleasure. I have no desire to lose her to a young man, no matter how eligible, for a long time.

‘We will be sitting at least nine to breakfast, and more to luncheon and dinner, according to how many other people we invite. Gilbert wants to plan a shoot, and we will all ride to the lake for a picnic if the weather is fine. That is providing Lady Mary feels able to. She is very large and stout (as also is Sir Charles) and is something of an invalid. Gilbert says we must have at least one large dinner party, and music and dancing afterwards.

‘Mrs Jarvis and I have been discussing menus. She is quite unflustered by all this, indeed seems to enjoy it. She has requested that I hire two extra girls for the weekend, but only to help in the kitchen. And she insists on doing the waiting on table herself, with the assistance of Ellen and Emmy. She wouldn’t trust untrained girls, she says.

‘So that burden is off my shoulders. All I will have to do is entertain my guests and see that they are comfortable. Lucy has asked to do the flowers in all the rooms. She is very artistic. I do not need to add that Gilbert is getting out his best wines…’

It was true that Molly Jarvis was enjoying the occasion. Her abilities had never been tested to this point, but she was supremely confident. The larder, built of thick stone to keep out the heat, was stocked with provisions. The maids had their instructions down to the last detail. It was a pity that Emmy Dawson was so lovesick about Obadiah White. She had been forbidden to see him or think of him while the great visit was in progress. In any case, he was too busy putting the garden in perfect order to be bothered with Emmy mooning over him. He had enough to do seeing that Miss Lucy didn’t steal his best blooms for the house. And he worried that there would be a strong wind at the last minute, so that he would have to sweep up leaves and comb the precious green patch of lawn back into order.

No one got to bed early on the last evening. Molly was the latest of all. But she had at last finished plucking and stuffing the chickens, the big rich dark fruit cake was out of the oven and cooling, the kitchen was set to rights. She stood a moment surveying, with pleasure, the well-stocked larder. She had not forgotten the terrible half-starved years following her arrival in Australia. The sight of food aroused an almost sensuous pleasure in her.

‘Looks famous,’ came Gilbert’s voice behind her, startling her. ‘Are we really going to get through all that?’

‘A good deal of it, I should think. Have I overestimated?’

‘Better too much than too little. I’ll never be known for parsimony.’ He lifted the heavy coil of hair from her neck and laid his lips on the warm exposed skin. ‘Nor will you.’

She sprang away. ‘I’ve told you, not here! Someone may come in.’

He laughed softly. ‘I like seeing you jump like that.’

‘Ah, don’t risk it. We’ve been too lucky. I get scared.’

‘Then go to your room. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.’

‘Tonight!’

‘I can’t tomorrow night. I’ll be drinking port with His Excellency. Besides, I have a gift for you.’

‘A gift?’

‘You never ask for anything, do you?’

‘I have no right. I’m guilty enough.’

‘Don’t talk like that. Off with you.’

The gift was an amethyst and pearl locket which Gilbert hung round Molly’s neck as she sat half-undressed. It hung between her breasts, and he said that that was where he would always like to see it, against her bare skin. She wanted to refuse it, saying she wasn’t that sort of mistress.

Instead, she said scoffingly, ‘Whenever will I wear a thing like that?’

‘When we’re together. I know you can’t wear it in public. But I wanted to give you something. Can’t you gloat over it in private?’

‘Gloat?’ Her eyes flashed.

‘I’ve used the wrong word, I suppose. I’m not clever enough. But I’ll be disappointed and hurt if you refuse it. You will keep it, won’t you?’

She half-nodded. She was thinking against her will that although this was a very pretty thing, it was only an amethyst. The mistress got diamonds. No, she wouldn’t refuse it, much as she wanted to. She would keep it for Rosie.

L
UCY COULDN’T BELIEVE HER
eyes.

‘Addie, you’re not putting your hair up!’

‘What else do I appear to be doing?’ Adelaide asked, inserting more pins expertly into the heavy red-gold coils over her ears.

‘But did you ask permission? You’re not sixteen yet.’

‘Life would be very dull if one always asked permission.’ Adelaide turned her head this way and that, critically studying her reflection in the mirror. ‘Especially when it wouldn’t be likely to be granted. There! How do I look?’

‘Practically grown up,’ Lucy had to admit.

‘This is the latest fashion in London. We had some fashion journals at school.’

‘Were you allowed to put your hair up at school?’

‘If we liked,’ Adelaide said airily. ‘At least, Miss Annabel Chisholm would let us, but Miss Hester is an old stick.’ She pulled at the neckline of her white muslin dress. ‘This is a
child’s
dress,’ she said. ‘I have half a mind to cut the neck lower. If I did,’ her eyes were suddenly sparkling, ‘you could sew it for me, couldn’t you? Everyone is always praising your needlework.’

Lucy backed away, her eyes widening.

‘You wouldn’t dare!’

‘Oh, you are a milksop, Lucy. Always scared of everything. The great George isn’t going to take much notice of you if you behave like that.’

‘Do you mean George Fitzroy ? But I’m not expecting him to even look at me.’

‘And he won’t either, in that case. It’s a great pity, because you’re really very pretty.’

Lucy was fighting the too easy always shameful tears.

‘Why is it a great pity? I’m not out of the schoolroom yet.’

‘But you will be one day. And I suppose he has a memory.’

‘Don’t be silly, Addie, it’s you who is to fascinate him. Mamma said so.’

Adelaide shrugged. Her poise was quite alarming.

‘Perhaps. However, it just happens I don’t want my husband chosen for me.’

‘But if you fell in love with George Fitzroy it would be all right, wouldn’t it? They say he’s very good-looking.’

‘And probably as vain as a peacock. If he behaves condescendingly to us I shall very quickly put him in his place.’

‘Addie, you wouldn’t!’

‘Indeed I would—’ Adelaide broke off to give a squeal. ‘I can hear a carriage.’ She rushed to the window. ‘Here they come! Look! That must be George riding beside them. And Colonel Mundy on the other side.’

‘Don’t hang out so far. They’ll see you,’ Lucy said nervously. But she was hanging a modest way out herself, for she thought the young man on the chestnut mare very handsome. Tall and slight and elegant, the sun shining on his glossy brown hair. She hadn’t expected him to be quite so good-looking. Surely now Addie wouldn’t be so contemptuous of him. She patted her carefully arranged ringlets, wishing suddenly that she herself was old enough, or bold enough, to do her hair in the latest London fashion. As it was, George Fitzroy would think her just a little girl, and hardly notice her. If only she could overcome her painful shyness and converse with him. But what about? How could he possibly be interested in anything she had to say?

At least one thing was certain, and that was that Mamma would not lose her poise. Confronted unexpectedly with Adelaide with her hair up, she smiled serenely, looking quite beautiful in her lavender blue gown.

‘Lady Mary, may I present my daughters to you? This is Adelaide, and this—’ her hand rested lightly and reassuringly on Lucy’s shoulder, ‘is Lucy.’

They both curtseyed to the large very stout lady in the bottle-green travelling clothes. Lady Mary Fitzroy said, in a jolly voice, ‘Good gracious me, Mrs Massingham, you look much too young to have such grown-up daughters.’

‘They’re really not very grown-up, Lady Mary. Adelaide goes to Miss Chisholm’s school and Lucy has a governess. Now I am sure you would like to see your room before the gentlemen come in. It’s on the cool side of the house, although even that isn’t very cool at times. Lucy has done the flowers. She’s very clever…’