The Shadow of the Lynx (17 page)

But one could not help being impressed by Lynx, admiring him, even feeling for him this absurd sort of devotion—which I called idolatry in Stirling—but for Stirling I had a warmer, more human feeling. I could not imagine the house—my little Whiteladies—without Lynx. Even to think of his not being there affected me deeply; and the excitement of the days was intensified by seeing him at the head of the table at dinner, or best of all playing chess with him trying to beat him or, as he said, to wheedle confidences from him. I thought more often of Lynx perhaps than I did of Stirling, but I had no doubt of my feelings for Stirling— I loved him. And I was not sure how to describe my feelings for Lynx. I believed that one day Stirling would ask me to marry him and when he did I would say ‘yes’ without hesitation. I believed that Lynx would give us his blessing (for I was

sure this would be what he wanted) ana that we should be happy ever after. We would be prosperous here—although we would give up the mine. I would urge Stirling to do this. Then my thoughts grew blank because I was thinking as though Lynx were dead. Lynx . dead! That seemed impossible. No one—not even Stirling—had that immense vitality, the reflection of which revitalized one. No, I would persuade Lynx and Stirling to abandon the mine. I could not bear to think of men dying of phthisis, nor the look on Lynx’s face when he talked of gold.

We rode south and as the day wore on we found a spot where we would pitch our tent. It was near a creek so that we had water, which Stirling went to get while Jacob Jagger made a fire. Adelaide said she would show me how to make dampers and we would soon have tea. There was boiled bacon in the saddle bags and some mutton too.

What an exhilarating experience it would have been but for the fact of Jacob Jagger’s presence. I had to admit that he was very skilful in making a fire. He insisted on explaining how to make the wood kindle and how important it was to choose the right spot.

“It’s easy to start a forest fire,” he added, ‘and that. Miss Nora, is something I hope you’ll never see. “

The last one was terrible,” put in Adelaide.

“I really thought it was going to be the end of the property.”

“So did we all,” agreed Jacob Jagger, his plump face more sober than I had ever seen it. There were hours when we were actually ringed by fire. I was waiting for the the gums near the house to explode and that would have been the end. “

It was difficult ferme to imagine the horror of a forest fire. I suppose nobody can until they have seen one. Now this friendly little fire which Jagger had made was cooking our dampers and boiling our water for tea.

It was so pleasant lying there, on rugs which Adelaide and I had spread out on the turf, propped up by our saddles.

^hat do you think of camping, Nora? ” Stirling was asking me.

“I think it’s fun.”

He threw himself down beside me, his elbow resting on the ground, his arm propping up his head.

“I knew you’d enjoy it.” His eyes were warm with approval.

“I knew you wouldn’t be one of those helpless females who

scream at the sight of a spider. “

“Surely we didn’t have to come camping for you to discover that?”

“No. I always knew it.” He was smiling at me in a way which delighted me. He was fond of me; there was a bond of understanding between us. I knew that he looked upon me as his protegee. He liked people to admire me, applaud me;

that was why he had been so anxious that I make a good impression on his father. It showed that he loved me.

This was indeed my home. I should spend the rest of my days here.

Little Whiteladies was the setting for my future happiness. Lynx would be the master, always, but benign, indulgent and pretending that he was not. He would accept me as his daughter and love me as such; I believed he was very close to doing so already. And there would be children-my home would not be complete without them. Lynx would love them and be proud of them and love me the more for giving him grandchildren.

It was easy to dream out there in the bush. Perhaps Stirling was dreaming too and there was a similarity in our thoughts.

When it was dark we sat round the fire talking desultorily and even Jacob Jagger seemed likeable. Adelaide told us of other journeys she had made and how on one occasion she had been lost in the bush. She had gone off to get water and had lost her way back to the camp.

“It’s so easy,” she said.

“The contours of the land change so subtly that you don’t realize they’ve changed. You take what you believe to be the right track—so many tracks look alike—and then you find you have wandered off in the wrong direction. It’s a terrible experience to be lost in the bush.”

“I remember the occasion,” said Stirling.

“We all went off in different directions to look for you. We found you only half a mile away. You’d been going round in circles.”

Adelaide shivered.

“I shall never forget it. Let it be a warning to you, Nora.”

“Oh, we’ll take care of Miss Nora,” said Jacob Jagger.

“No fear of that,” added Stirling.

“Still, Nora, take warning. Don’t go wandering off on your own.”

I promised not to and we talked some more; then Stirling and Adelaide sang songs which they had sung together as children. They were songs from’ England

“Those were the ones our father liked to hear,” said Adelaide. They were “Cherry Ripe’, ” Strawberry Fair’, and “On a Friday Mom

When We Set Sail’—all the ballads that English children had been singing for years.

Adelaide and I went into our tent and the fresh air and long ride had made me so tired that I was soon asleep.

I was awakened by the kookaburras laughing overhead. Adelaide and I slipped on our dresses and went down to the creek to wash. She brought back water which she boiled in some quart-sized pots and with this made tea which we drank from tin mugs. Tea had rarely tasted as good before.

We left early after breakfasting from dampers and cold bacon; there was passion fruit jelly, too, which Adelaide had had the foresight to slip into her saddle bag.

How I enjoyed that morning ride through the bush! But there was one incident which spoiled the pleasure of the trip. We stopped at midday and I was putting the water to boil for tea on the fire which Jacob Jagger had made when I was aware of him, standing very close.

“You’ve certainly taken to the bush. Miss Nora,” he said.

I replied without looking round, “I find it very interesting.”

“It’s a great life,” he said. Then he knelt beside me and the awareness of him made me stand up immediately. I looked over my shoulder. There was no sign of Adelaide or Stirling.

“Where are they?” I asked.

He laughed.

“Not far off. No need to be scared.”

“Scared?” I retorted coldly, annoyed because that was exactly what I was, to find myself alone with him.

“Of what?”

“Of me?” he suggested.

“I can see no reason for that.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“I’m glad. There’s no need to be. I’m very fond of you, Miss Nora.”

“I’m glad, too, that I need not be scared, as you put it. Your feelings for me don’t really concern me either way.”

“Well, we could change that.”

“I think I am the best judge of my feelings.”

Oh, where were Adelaide and Stirling? Why didn’t they appear so that there might be an end to this conversation which he was forcing upon me. Well, not really forcing. I supposed I could walk away, but I did not want him to know how abhorrent I found him, for that would be to some extent betraying my fear.

“You are a very haughty young lady. I could change that, too.”

“Since when have you believed that you have the power to mould my character?”

“Ever since I saw you. In fact. Miss Nora, I have not ceased to think of you since that moment.”

“How strange!”

“It’s not strange at all. You’re a very remarkable young lady. The most remarkable I ever saw. I have never felt so interested in a young lady before.”

“What of Mary?” I suggested; and I felt the colour burning in my cheeks.

“Now you wouldn’t be jealous of a servant girl!”

“Jealous! You must be mad.” I walked away but he was beside me, walking close. He laid a hand on my arm.

I blazed at him.

“Mr. Jagger, kindly remove your hand. If you ever dare pester me again I shall speak to Mr. Herrick … I mean … Lynx!”

That name could strike fear into people. Jagger flinched and drew back immediately; and to my immense relief I heard Stirling’s voice.

“Nora, is tea ready yet?”

That evening we reached Melbourne. In the excitement of shopping I forgot Jagger. I bought some green silk material from which I planned to make a dress. I saw myself wearing it in the evenings when I played chess with Lynx. Adelaide would help me; she was adept with the needle and she loved having beautiful materials to work with.

She said to me as the material was being measured, “It’s nice to make lovely things. You’ll look pretty in that, Nora.” She pressed my arm and said quietly: “I’m glad you’re here with us. I can’t imagine what it would be like without you now.”

After four days we left and made the journey back. It was uneventful.

I could kindle a fire, make dampers and boil tea in billy cans I had experienced life in the bush.

“You’re one of us,” Stirling told me with approval.

I sat at the chess table; the long fingers caressed the ivory queen with her crown of gold and brilliants and he said:

“So you enjoyed your trip?”

“It was wonderful.”

“You liked sleeping rough?”

“Well, for a few night it was interesting.”

“I like my comforts. I am a sensual man. I’m like a cat. I

like to sleep in a. warm bed, take a oath rrequeruly, change my linen every day. It’s hardly possible to do these things in camp. But you liked it. “

“Perhaps I prefer my comforts too, but it was interesting to see the bush and to get some idea of how people have lived out there.”

“I imagine you are something of a pioneer, Nora. So you found your trip perfect in every way.”

“Well …” A vision of Jagger rose before me. I don’t know why it was that I had such fear of that man. Perhaps it was due to what had happened to Mary and the look in her eyes when she said she had been forced. Adelaide might not believe Mary, but I did.

“Oh … a fly in the ointment?”

How insistent he was! I could hide nothing from him.

“Adelaine and Stirling are good at everything,” I said quickly.

“They taught me how to make fires and dampers and so on … and how to live in the bush.”

“Jagger was with you, wasn’t he?”

I felt the slow flush creep into my cheeks.

“Oh yes, he was there.”

“He’s the best manager we’ve had,” he said.

“It’s not easy to get them. Most men would rather go after gold. So it’s not easy to keep them, and once they’ve gone they don’t come back. I see to that. Yes, Jagger is a good man with the property.”

Then the game started. I was quickly beaten on that occasion. I never had a chance to get into the attack.

“You’re not playing well tonight, Nora,” he said.

“Your thoughts are far away. In the bush perhaps.”

In a few weeks’ time Adelaide and I between us had made the green dress; we had also made up the more serviceable materials. Autumn was with us and we were preparing for winter. Logs were being brought into the wood house and Adelaide was stocking up with provisions. We were sometimes cut off by floods, she explained; and there might even be snow. Her father did not like. to be short of anything so it was her task to make sure that the house was well provided for. She had made jars of passioa fruit jelly, peach jam and orange marmalade.

After the heat of the summer I found the days delightful for riding and

when Adelaide or Stirling could not accompany me I went alone. I never torgot Adelaide’s warning about being lost in the bush—one of the worst fates which could befall anyone—so I was always careful to watch for landmarks. I had my set rides and rarely diverged from them. Only by promising that I would either ride to Kerry’s Creek, Martha’s Mound or Dog Hill could I be given permission to go, and I believe they were always rather uneasy when t was alone while at the same time they did not wish to restrict me.

Characteristically they had agreed that I should not be coddled; and I was now a fair horsewoman and could be trusted to manage a horse.

On this morning I decided to ride out to Kerry’s Creek-my favourite spot. Here the creek ran between a grove of ghost gums and when the wattle was in bloom it was one of the loveliest spots in the neighbourhood. I liked to tether my horse to one of the gums and sit watching the water. A man named Kerry had come there twenty years before and found a little gold along the creek; he had spent ten years trying to find more and had gone away disappointed. Hence its name.

But now it was free of the seekers after gold for Kerry had proved it to be barren of that much coveted metal. Perhaps that was why it appealed to me.

I sat there on this lovely late April morning looking into the water and thinking of everything that had happened over the last months and how happy I was to have escaped from Danesworth House. Over there now the buds would be appearing on the trees and bushes; the aubrietia and arab is would be in flower; and Mary would be thinking that the cold nights were over and that for a brief spell before the heat of the summer she would be comfortable in her attic bedroom. Poor Miss Graeme would be reminded that spring was here again and another year had passed and she was a year nearer the time when Miss Emily would have no further use for her services.

How sad! Poor Miss Graeme! Poor Mademoiselle, getting less and less able to control her class. And here was I-escaped, as free as those lovely galahs flying overhead. Then I thought of Lynx’s coming up from the hold of the convicts’ ship and envying the birds.

Dear Stirling! Dear Lynx! I loved them both, and, in a lesser way, Adelaide. In a short while they had become my family and made up in some measure for the loss of my beloved father. I could be happy again. I was happy.