Ironbark (63 page)

Something isn't right! Cold water!
She got out of bed and crossed to the pitcher on the washstand. She felt as if she was floating. A shaft of moonlight lay like a path across the room and drew her to the mirror.

When she looked at her reflection she was overwhelmed by horror.
That isn't my face!

A shaven-headed youth stared from the mirror. The same convict she had seen beside the old well. Padraic, who had murdered his master, Barnes. Had he done the deed in this very room?

Keziah was sweating with fear yet she couldn't withdraw her gaze from the apparition's tragic young face, its eyes ringed with dark shadows, as if his soul was condemned to be haunted by grief forever. She realised how contagious her fear was when her babe moved inside her belly. Her throat dried as she spoke to the face in the mirror but backed away from it.

‘What do you want of me?'

The ghostly eyes turned in the direction of the chest of drawers. Then the mirror suddenly clouded over to a milky hue and reflected nothing more than the full moon.

Thank God he's gone!
Keziah opened the drawer that contained her reticule. She felt a surge of elation when she realised what she must do. Her mind was clear as she seated herself at the escritoire and began writing a letter.

• • • 

Keziah recognised the handsome wrought-iron gates of Gideon Park were a design of Daniel's. Tonight they were wide open to receive the Jonstones' guests. There was a line of empty carriages awaiting their departure.

After tying the reins of Dr Ross's buggy to the railing, Keziah
hurried up the driveway. Joyful music sounded from within the mansion's ballroom. Guests in elaborate finery danced past the French windows.

The layout of the estate was familiar to her. She had once brought Charlotte Jonstone healing herbs following another of the woman's miscarriages. Beyond the house lay a large flagstone courtyard surrounded by farm buildings, stables, shearing sheds and the box-like sleeping quarters of Gideon Park's assigned men. At the heart of the courtyard a group of labourers made merry around a huge bonfire, which was sending sparks rocketing into the night sky.

Keziah manoeuvred around the fringe of revellers and asked for directions from a drunken woman whose face and slop clothing were splashed with red and yellow flashes from the fire.

‘The overseer's cottage? Over there. Why would a lady like you visit that bugger?'

Keziah did not reply but hurried to the whitewashed cottage fenced off in its own garden. She lifted the latch of the front door. Her heart thumped painfully but she controlled her fear for Jake's sake.

The stench of rum was strong the moment she entered. Sprawled on a couch before the fireplace was the man who boasted of his title, the Devil Himself. Dying firelight cast shadows on his face – devilishly handsome one moment, sensual and dangerous the next. His eyes scanned her body with an unmistakably venal message. Keziah instinctively placed her hand across her belly to shield the babe within. From early childhood she had feared the Evil One,
The Beng
. Now she was face to face with him.

She had precious little time to accomplish her mission. Even if she called for help the revellers were too drunk to come to her aid. She had a strange sensation that she was standing outside her own body. Divorced from time.

Iago lifted his nightshirt to expose his naked groin. ‘This what you came for? You'll get more than you bargained for.'

Her mouth was dry. ‘Your wife is at home?'

‘She's busy serving the master's guests. So come here and be friendly, girl.'

‘I watched you in court,' she said. ‘Iago. Is that your real name?'

‘The Devil Himself goes by many names,' he said softly, watching her face. ‘What strange eyes you have. A big, soft mouth. But you love to hate, don't you? I recognised that Romani curse you cried out in court. I had occasion to visit Newgate prison once – a lot of your Gypsy tribe get holed up there. I sent a few vagabonds there myself.'

‘Don't waste my time,' she said coldly to hide her mounting fear. She tried desperately to cling to reality, hold fast to the reason she had come to face him.

Iago smiled as if they were fellow conspirators. ‘This moment has been a long time coming, eh Gypsy? There's nothing I don't know about you! I've watched you go through a lot of men, girl. A bushranger, a milksop artist, an English nob and now that lusty fool, Jake Andersen. But I took good care of him for you in court!'

Keziah held back her rage. ‘Your evidence sent an innocent man to prison. Here's your chance to tell the truth and set him free. Read this. Then sign it.'

Although her voice was strong her hand shook as she placed the letter on the table.

‘You've got a man's balls, I'll say that for you, Gypsy. How do you intend to persuade a man like
me
to do your bidding?'

Keziah opened her reticule. ‘Either you sign it or I'll send you down the road to hell where you belong.'

Iago stared into the muzzle of her muff pistol. ‘No need to panic, girl. I'll read it.'

He did so very, very slowly.

‘How nicely you put it. “I wrongly identified Jakob Andersen and the horse Sarishan. I apologise to the court and Andersen for the distress my error of memory unwittingly caused.”'

He twirled his quill between his fingers, as if teasing her, making her wait.

‘You'd be silly to shoot me, little witch. You need this bit of paper badly. Let's drink a tot of rum together to toast Her Majesty Queen Victoria.'

Keziah's words spat out her contempt. ‘You dare to mention the queen's name!'

He pointed at her, his fingernails rimmed with half moons of dirt. ‘I dare
everything
. They don't call me the Devil Himself for nothing. You're Jake Andersen's whore. You cuckolded that coward Daniel Browne into the bargain. I've watched you and Jake. Like two dogs on heat having each other under the stars.'

Keziah went cold at the thought of those beautiful nights with Jake.
He was there watching us!
Iago caught her expression and laughter came from deep in his throat.

‘Your cries are delicious when you're being rooted. But I know you, girl, you really prefer it rough. Remember that first time at the creek when you went after me with your horsewhip? Well I'm the very man to give you what you want. The master of rough, I am!'

Vivid, jumbled images flashed through her mind.
The dark horseman spying on my cottage. His hand on my breast. Lifting my skirt to rape me. His laughter. ‘I'll give you pain and teach you to love it.' His foul lies that sent Jake to prison. I always knew the devil could take human form.

Keziah trembled so much she needed both hands to steady the pistol.

‘Easy, girl. Doesn't matter to me if Andersen walks free. I'll sign this letter for you, seeing as you want it so bad, but first I need to move closer to the lamp, right?'

He placed the letter on the table, lowering his voice to a gentle, confidential tone.

‘I hear that your lover Gypsy Gem drowned off Cockatoo Island. Pity. Now there was a bare-knuckle champ who turned on a great

performance. He could lick a man twice his size. Gem was the only convict alive who earned my respect.'

Keziah felt sickened to hear Gem's name in the man's foul mouth.

‘That's history,' she said, ‘just sign your name.'

‘There you are, little schoolmistress. Here's your precious letter.'

Keziah moved to take it, but Iago twisted her wrist and freed the muff pistol from her hand into his. He tossed it from right to left as if it was a child's toy.

‘I should have signed it the Devil Himself. Famous I am. I get more work out of my felons than any overseer in the colony. Hundreds have worked their arses off for me. Kept Jonstone in style and lined my own pockets into the bargain.'

Iago added with pride, ‘Famous for my clever use of the cat, too. It was me that broke Will Martens. Skin like a girl he had till he tasted my lash. Cried like a girl too.'

He kept on talking in that soft, reasonable voice, but the malevolence in the smile above the cleft chin overwhelmed Keziah with a wave of nausea. Everything in the room took on a surreal quality like crudely painted scenery on a theatre stage. She felt held in the horror of a spell cast by the Devil Himself's soft voice, his fathomless dark eyes that reflected no light. His obscene words cut her to the very heart but she forced herself to watch his movements as he continued to taunt her, tossing the muff pistol from hand to hand. She seized the moment and lunged forward, catching the pistol in midair. When she squeezed the trigger the bullet seared his neck before it hit the wall behind him.

He moved towards her, excited. ‘Bad girl,' he said, ‘I'd best teach you a lesson.'

She knew the muff pistol only held one bullet. There was no second chance. She released the secret spring of the knife blade and held the pistol like a dagger. Iago's blood sprayed over her dress. She could not comprehend what was happening to that vile face as his mouth filled with blood.

Pistol and letter in hand, Keziah picked up the oil lamp and walked outside. She threw the lamp onto the bark roof of the cottage and watched it explode into flames.

Daniel galloped towards Gideon Park, praying to Our Lady he would not arrive too late.

He had woken in the dark of night to find Leslie's household in an uproar, searching every corner of the Haunted Farm for Keziah. Keeping a cool head Daniel had run to the stables. The buggy was missing. Leslie was anxious that Keziah was so disoriented by his medication she'd driven to Ironbark Farm in search of the children.

Daniel knew better. Iago's evidence had sealed Jake's fate. Even in a half-drugged state Keziah would fight to free Jake. Daniel felt sure she would make for Gideon Park to confront the Devil Himself head-on. He had promised himself he would never return to hell on earth. Now there was no choice.

On his arrival at the wrought-iron gates, Daniel saw the Jonstone mansion was in virtual darkness. There were no carriages in sight, only Leslie's buggy tied to a railing. He dismounted, heading straight for Iago's cottage. He began to shake with fear at his memories of the overseer. And the certain knowledge he must again confront him face to face if Keziah was indeed here.

Jonstone's mansion appeared to be deserted. But there was an agitated babble of voices from the direction of the farm buildings.

He burst into the open courtyard and was bewildered to find himself amongst drunken figures staggering back and forth with buckets of water in the direction of the overseer's cottage. Flames had demolished the roof but continued to lick at the whitewashed walls. Every drunken assigned man was busy yelling out orders but following none. The sole stationary figure was Iago's wife who stood at the edge of the chaos as if transfixed by the fire.

Even before he approached the burning cottage, Daniel recognised the acrid smell of burning human flesh.
Our Lady, don't let it be Keziah.
He forced himself to look through the doorway. His gorge rose at the sight of the half-charred corpse inside the ruins. The Devil Himself was dead.

Daniel staggered back, coughing from the smoke. Where was Keziah? No one was sober enough to answer his questions so he searched the scorched garden around the cottage.

Finally he found her. Keziah lay curled up, softly crooning in her mother tongue. Dried blood was smeared across her cheek. A patch of her hair had burned away, the rest hung matted on her shoulders. What chilled him was her tone of remote sweetness despite the crazed expression in her eyes.

‘How good to see you, Daniel. Do you know what happened?'

‘Come home with me, Keziah. I'll take care of you now.'

Daniel was ready to promise her anything to remove her from this carnage. But his hope died the moment Keziah politely handed him a muff pistol, its blade covered with dried blood.

He hastily wrapped it in his handkerchief and hid it in his coat pocket. Holding Keziah upright, he steered her behind the cabins and managed to reach the buggy unobserved. Keziah sounded like a curious child.

‘Do you know, Daniel? I found out that Iago really
was
the Devil Himself.'

The sound of Keziah's laughter was more terrible than the sound of weeping.

Daniel clapped his hand across her mouth to stifle the sound, whispering words of reassurance as he bundled her into the buggy and attached the reins of the other horse to it. He couldn't shake off the fear that pulsated inside him – that even in death the Devil Himself had the power to hunt him down and punish him. He kept repeating in his mind:
Iago
is
dead. I saw his corpse. But did he die at Keziah's hands?

As he drove in silence Daniel kept glancing at Keziah. She was shrouded by the moonlight, making her profile look as if it had been carved from white marble.

When they finally arrived at the Haunted Farm he felt relieved to deliver Keziah into Leslie's care. The Doc took one look at her, asked Daniel a few brief questions then escorted her upstairs to tend her burns.

Certain no one was watching, Daniel slipped into the moonlit garden. He lifted the wooden cover of the old stone well and threw the muff pistol down. He counted to five to test the depth before he heard a splash as it hit the water. He suddenly felt a chill as if someone was watching him. There was no one in sight.

• • • 

Daniel and Dr Ross managed to block Trooper Kenwood's initial attempts to interview Keziah by using her acute mental imbalance and advanced stage of pregnancy as excuses. But over the next few weeks Kenwood continued to call at the Haunted Farm on the off-chance Keziah might be well enough to answer his questions. Daniel's nerves were taut but after three months had passed and the trooper's visits tailed off, he and the Doc became convinced that the police had no evidence.