Ironbark (6 page)

‘Keziah Stanley. My father was the finest violinist in Wales and the Northern Counties.'

Warily she allowed Caleb Morgan to draw her out on the subject of horses, well aware of his attempts to form a bond and how often he cast discreet glances at her.

Keziah had no illusions about her good looks – they were useful to allow her entrée to fine houses to give Tarot readings. She was quite tall
for a girl and she knew that men, even
gaujo
men, admired the unusual combination of her oriental features, black Romani hair and an olive complexion, with the contrast of her Celtic blue eyes – her sole inheritance from Stella the Whore. To Keziah, her looks were far less important than her pride in her abilities. Meeting Caleb's gaze she shrugged off his admiration. Gem considered her beautiful and that was all that mattered.

‘Miss Stanley, perhaps you would care to assist our housekeeper until your ship sets sail for the colonies? Our servants are paid a more than fair wage.'

Although her grandmother's warnings about
gaujo
trickery were ingrained, Keziah quickly weighed this against the advantages. A short time earning good money under the roof of a respectable
gaujo
family would be safer than
dukkering
with the Tarot in a seaport like Liverpool, no doubt full of drunken sailors. ‘No harm in having a word with her,' she said.

• • •

Keziah tried to conceal her awe when they arrived at the carriageway of a handsome three-storey Georgian mansion set back from the road in a landscaped park. It was the most impressive house she had ever seen. Although the
gaujo
world of comfort was worthless in Romani eyes, she could not overcome her curiosity about the treasures that would be inside.

Caleb Morgan led her to the servants' entrance at the rear and beckoned to a middle-aged housekeeper. His tone of voice changed to one of casual command when addressing the woman.

‘Mrs Wills, this is Miss Keziah Stanley, here at my invitation. A fine breakfast is in order. You'll thank me for finding you an honest servant
if
Miss Stanley decides to remain and work for you.' He turned to Keziah. ‘Enjoyed our talk. Off to the stables.'

Later that afternoon, having changed into her housemaid's uniform, Keziah caught sight of a very different Caleb Morgan in the grand
entrance hall. Dressed in a fine riding habit with his cravat anchored by a diamond stickpin in the shape of a horseshoe, he sprang down the circular staircase and looked up at the shadowy figure at the top of the stairs.

Realising this other man was her new master, Keziah took stock of him. Dark-haired with a touch of grey at the temples and cold, aquiline features, John Morgan was clearly a man whose word was law. Yet Keziah sensed his status as gentleman was an assumed mantle rather than his birthright. She noted Caleb's address to his father was balanced between respect and easy familiarity.

‘Thank you for your understanding, Father. Dashed good to be home again. Cambridge is quite a bore.' Pausing by the front door Caleb said quietly, ‘Trust you'll be happy here, Keziah.'

Keziah.
No doubt this was the last time she would hear her name, in future the household would address her as Stanley.

Although Mrs Wills was openly suspicious of her Romani origin, Keziah gave her no opportunity to fault her work or behaviour. She was scrupulously clean, polite, obedient and reliable. Even so, Wills always counted the silver cutlery after Keziah handled it.

Keziah was resigned to that. No matter how honest she was
gaujos
always chose to remember the slander about her people. Bearing in mind her grandmother's warning to avoid being caught in the
gaujo
web of comfort, Keziah promised herself she would not remain one day longer than necessary. Destiny in the form of Caleb Morgan had brought her to a safe harbour free to save every penny of her wages for her passage to New South Wales. She would turn this unexpected opportunity to her advantage.

Keziah had Caleb Morgan pegged as a bored young man intent on playing every charming trick to gain his own way. It was common knowledge in the servants' hall the master indulged his son and habitually paid Caleb's gambling debts. When referring to his father Caleb assumed an amiable attitude, but he made no attempt to disguise his
contempt for his stepmother, Sophie, a girl still in her teens. She was officially confined to bed with melancholia but Caleb dismissed that as a ploy for sympathy.

Keziah suspected the servants' gossip was accurate and that the young mistress had suffered a miscarriage.

When Mrs Wills ordered Keziah upstairs to attend the mistress following the indisposition of her lady's maid, Keziah was prepared to be sympathetic when she entered the dimly lit bedroom.

Sophie Morgan petulantly gestured to a small table holding apothecaries' bottles and jars. ‘Bring me that little blue bottle.'

Pain and weakness were etched on the girl's pretty features but Keziah hesitated. She recognised the letters L-D-N-M on the handwritten label. Laudanum! She knew what a dangerous habit it was and wanted to warn the mistress to have nothing to do with it.

Sophie Morgan's eyes dilated in anger. ‘What are you waiting for? Give me that bottle. Then leave me alone.'

Keziah felt frustrated, knowing she could help heal her. She had befriended the estate's elderly gardener and had all the right herbs to make a tea proven to cleanse the womb after the loss of a babe. But she handed the mistress the bottle, bobbed a curtsy and left the room.

• • •

Next morning Keziah overheard a housemaid complain to Mrs Wills about ‘that Gypsy' who Master Caleb had ordered to be reassigned to the library to polish his sporting trophies – her job!

Mrs Wills cornered Keziah. ‘If I find you've been granting your favours to Master Caleb you'll be out on your behind without a penny, Stanley!'

Keziah held her head high. ‘I'm a married woman, faithful to my husband.'

‘A Gypsy marriage! That doesn't count a fig.'

Keziah's tone was dangerously polite. ‘It does to me, Mrs Wills.'

She hurried to the library where Caleb was stretched out on the
lounging chair looking bored, a book discarded on the floor.

‘Four walls filled with books to the ceiling!' she gasped. ‘Have you read them all?'

‘Gad, no. You like to read, do you?' Caleb was amused by her reaction.

‘I love stories.' She faltered, then raised her chin. ‘We were always so busy travelling I wasn't schooled in reading but I know all my letters.'

Caleb watched her hard at work polishing but he soon grew restless.

‘Tell me about your childhood,' he demanded. ‘Spent most of mine trapped with a doddering old tutor. Deadly bore. What is it like being a Gypsy child in a travelling house?'

‘
Romani
children,' she corrected politely, ‘have a glorious childhood close to nature. Each child has its own responsibilities. We may appear to run wild but we pay our elders strict respect and learn their skills. That's how I learned herbal medicine.' She added pointedly, ‘I know the danger of your stepmother growing dependent on laudanum.'

Caleb reacted with lazy indifference. ‘Physicians prescribe tincture of opium for everything from teething babes to consumption. It cured my hangover once.' He gave a snort of derision. ‘Herbs! Surely
you
don't believe in that witchy stuff?'

‘My grandmother is a great healer who has saved many lives. She taught me about herbs and
dukkering
.' Noting his frown she translated. ‘Reading the future. I earned good money for the family at county fairs and grand houses. But only from the
gaujo
.'

‘I'm a
gaujo
so you can read mine. Come on, that's an order,' he chided. ‘Must I first cross your palm with silver?' He saw her expression. ‘Meant no offence. Only ask because since childhood I've been afraid that I'm fated to die young.'

It was a charming lie and Keziah gave him a sidelong smile to show she was not fooled by his tricks. With good grace she knelt at his feet and examined the palms of his hands, tracing the lines with her finger
and explaining how he would soon cross the ocean. He was destined to go on a dangerous adventure. She saw him with black men in a desert. Men were dying.

‘Ah, so I
am
to die young. Told you so!' Caleb gave a theatrical sigh.

‘Well, dead or alive, you're quite the hero!' she said firmly.

‘And what of love?' he asked softly.

‘You will make and lose many fortunes. Love and lose many women. But one girl is – I don't know the English word.' Her hands curled into claws. ‘She won't let you go!'

‘Tenacious! Gad, Father's going to marry me off to some dreary heiress. He's determined I must produce a suitable heir. God knows Sophie's a failure as a breeder.'

Keziah felt the cruel sting of his words as she was reminded of her own lost babe. When she resumed reading his palm she was suddenly discomforted by the image of a child's face.

‘That's all!' She abruptly dropped his hand but he was quick to catch her own.

‘Love the prospect of being a hero but I'd rather win
one
woman's love. What may I give you in return? Name it. Some little trinket young gels love?'

‘Could I borrow a book from your library – one that will help me learn to read?'

Caleb seemed surprised by her request. ‘Will do better than that. What say I teach you to read? One hour every day after you've finished your work here in the library. Is it a pact?'

‘But Mrs Wills watches me like a hawk. And I'm already resented for being assigned to the library on your orders.'

‘Wills is a
servant
! I'll tell the old shrew it amuses me to teach you to read. What's the point in being the master's son if I can't get my own way?'

Keziah felt a wave of gratitude. ‘Thank you! I'll practise every night.'
Suddenly wary she turned in the doorway to ask why he would do that for her.

‘I'm bored. You are an antidote.' He called her back. ‘And when we are alone do call me Caleb. That's an order.'

• • •

Their reading lessons became the highlight of Keziah's day. Although she did not dismiss her grandmother's warning to beware the
gaujo
with the big book, her attraction to breaking the magic code of the alphabet to read stories was so great she assured herself she would soon be free to sail away to join Gem. So where was the harm? The ability to read would stand her in good stead in a colony where it was said many could only make their mark.

Eager to learn, Keziah was angry when she failed and jubilant when she broke through the barrier to success. She hid her books beneath her mattress to avoid Mrs Wills's suspicions.

During their lessons Keziah was amused to see how blatantly Caleb tried to extract personal information. She was always on guard.
It will take more than Caleb's charming ways to trick this Romani lass!

‘Do tell me about your Gem. You Gypsies marry damned young, I take it?'

‘It is
Romani
tradition,' she corrected politely, ‘for children to mix freely. We are sometimes promised at eight or nine but we
are
free to choose. If you don't want him you say so. My husband is from a fine Romani family – they paid a high bride price for me.'

‘So it's the reverse of our custom where a bride brings a dowry to the marriage?'

‘Yes, Romani women are valuable,' she said proudly.

When he asked if she had chosen Gem, Keziah's voice grew soft.

‘He was my hero. Strong and handsome. He rode like the wind. No man alive could beat my Gem in a bare-knuckle fight. I grew up knowing one day we would lay together. He is my Rom. My man.'

She saw Caleb glance away as if irritated by her words.

‘You married him in a church?' he asked slyly.

Keziah gave a snort of contempt. ‘Your church means nothing to us. When I turned thirteen my body told me I was a woman.'

Caleb cocked one eyebrow but Keziah continued.

‘We dressed in our finest clothes, made our vows, then held hands and leapt together over the broomstick to show we were married.'

‘You say you were fated to love Gem,' Caleb said. ‘You talk about fate as others speak of God.'

‘
The Del
– the Creator – exists. But we see things differently to you. We live with
baxt
– fate, luck, destiny. To take a wrong fork in the road means you were destined to travel that way.'

‘So you were destined to meet
me
, Keziah.'

‘Of course. And when I leave Morgan Park that will also be my destiny.'

Keziah withdrew the amulet from her bodice. ‘This will protect me on my voyage to New South Wales and reunite me with Gem.'

‘May it always keep you safe.' Caleb used the cord to draw her close.

Keziah saw the message in his eyes and broke away. She began cleaning one of the sporting trophies as if her life depended on it.

Caleb seemed nervous when he took a heavy tome off the shelf and flipped to a page.

‘Practise reading this passage tonight. Tell me tomorrow what you think of it.'

As he passed her, Keziah felt his hand brush her hair.

The book reminded Keziah of her
Puri Dai's
warning. She tried to recall the exact words.
Beware the
gaujo
with a silver tongue. I see him with a big book. He will make you read to him!

She opened the page entitled ‘The Song of Solomon'. Surely there was no harm in the
gaujo
bible! But as she stumbled over the passage Caleb had marked, her eyes widened in disbelief. Surely these words were not spoken by the
gaujo
god?