Dorothy Eden (37 page)

Gilbert pulled her to him and kissed her warmly. She felt a sharp throb of her heart. But his mind was full of the gaiety ahead. He let her go, talking rapidly.

‘You and the girls must get new party dresses. Kit must be home, of course. He’s old enough to take a turn on the dance floor. He’ll want to learn that new dance everyone is talking about. The polka. You’ll want your garden at its best.’

‘Yes, when the roses are out. I’ll tell Peabody. And you must let me have Jem permanently until then. Poor Peabody has got dreadfully slow, but he can still give orders. He will enjoy having his garden admired.’

‘Your garden, my love. Peabody might have planted it, but you’ve added the touch of genius.’

She was back on her pedestal, she recognized. But perhaps after all it was better than the guilt-ridden unhappiness of the last few weeks.

Dearest Sarah, [she wrote three weeks later]

The ball is over and it was the greatest success. Everyone came. There were no less than ten carriages driving up to the front door at one juncture. You can imagine the scene with the horses fidgetting and the ladies in their ball dresses alighting. Some of the guests brought their children who were put to sleep in the nursery. Ellen had a very busy happy evening with all her charges. The Kellys and the Noakes came from Sydney and stayed over the weekend. They left this morning, so I have some time to myself again. Bess brought her three girls who are old enough to go to balls. Alice is just the right age for Kit, but she is a dumpy plain girl and I fear Kit was rather rude to her. At least not rude, but neglectful of her.

Eugenia paused, sighing. It was hot and she was very tired. And as usual there were things she couldn’t tell Sarah. She looked round the room, still filled with flowers from the gaiety of the weekend, although the wattle was wilting. It went a dirty mustard colour when its blooms shrivelled. Some people said it was unlucky to have indoors. All she had noticed was that it had made one of the Governor’s aides sneeze violently.

Everyone had admired the decorations, the refreshments, the house, the furniture, the portrait of herself and her baby son hanging over the fireplace. (What a look of dreamy innocence her face had had.) The house had come to life as it never had before. This was the kind of occasion Gilbert had had in mind when he had insisted that the drawing-room be large enough in which to hold a ball.

It had been a triumphant night. Except for that one thing which she didn’t intend discussing with Sarah.

‘Kit wore his first grown-up suit,’ she wrote. ‘He looked so handsome. He is very tall for his age, and he knows how to charm people already. He danced with his mother very prettily. I discovered that there was no need for me to guide him. He knew the steps already. He quite enslaved Alice Kelly who looked at him with cow eyes, but, as I said, did not get much attention from the object of her devotion…’

How could she have, because Eugenia, taking a turn in the garden with the young man who had been so much afflicted by the pollen in the wattle, had seen a flicker of white in the shrubbery.

Peabody’s rhododendrons had done well after a slow start. They now made a dense green hedge that enclosed the bottom of the garden and provided not only a dim shady walk but also, it seemed, protection for lovers.

The young aide, also glimpsing the movement in the dimness, wanted to turn back tactfully. But Eugenia had a sudden suspicion too strong to be ignored. She had been trying to keep an eye on Kit, hoping that he enjoyed his first ball, anxious that his father would not encourage him to drink too much wine. Gilbert had so much enthusiasm and so little sense where his wine was concerned.

But her duties as a hostess took all her time.

She realized that she hadn’t seen Kit for the last hour. She was almost certain that he was concerned with the flickering white dress in the shrubbery.

‘Kit, is that you?’ she called.

For a moment there was complete stillness in the dark screen of bushes.

Then, slowly, Kit emerged, dragging by the hand a slim scrap of a girl in a white dress.

Rosie !

‘It’s all right, Mamma,’ he said easily. ‘We came down to feed the opossums in the tree.’ He did, in truth, have some scraps of food wrapped in a linen napkin. Eugenia, striving against alarm, remembered that as a little boy Kit had liked to feed the nocturnal animals that came slithering down the branches in the dark. But she could not help observing the possessive way in which Rosie clung to him. Perhaps the girl thought that in the dark of the moonlit garden Eugenia would not notice the handclasp, or jump to the conclusion that the two had been kissing. She recognized the defiant lift of Kit’s chin, a sure sign that he intended to defy any accusation of misbehaviour.

How could she accuse him now? The matter must wait until the morning.

But Rosie! That little vixen with her slanting eyes.

Eugenia knew that Mrs Jarvis had made her a new dress for the occasion. It hadn’t seemed fair that Adelaide and Lucy should be elaborately dressed in their bows and sashes without Rosie also having a pretty dress. But it had been understood, naturally, that the girl would be in the background. She could watch the arrivals from the stairs, just as Adelaide and Lucy did. She could even linger on to catch glimpses of the dancing after the younger girls had gone to bed.

But to lure Kit into the garden! That was unforgivable. She was his foster sister. It was highly indecent that she should be clinging to him like this. A childhood affection was one thing, but this was becoming too significant. Something would have to be done about Rosie Jarvis.

‘Now don’t get in a state, Mamma,’ Kit had said the next morning when she had called him into her sitting-room. ‘I told you that Rosie and I were only feeding the ’possums.’

‘You were absent from the ballroom for over an hour,’ Eugenia said. ‘As it happens, Adelaide saw you and Rosie go out.’

‘That little telltale!’ Kit said furiously.

‘We are speaking of you and Rosie. You can’t have been feeding the opossums for over an hour. Anyway, you know your father has forbidden you to encourage them. They’re pests. They get into the vines. Apart from that, where were your manners? Leaving your guests for so long.’

‘They were yours and Papa’s guests, Mamma.’

‘Kit, don’t contradict me, please. You were hiding in the dark with a servant girl. It was in the worst possible taste.’

Kit’s fair skin showed too vividly his change of colour. His mouth went sullen.

‘Rosie isn’t a servant girl.’

‘Then what is she, pray?’

‘They might talk like that in England, but not in Australia.’

‘You’re not suggesting it’s I who have bad manners!’

‘No, Mamma, your manners are perfect, but old-fashioned. Rosie’s my friend. She’s not a servant, she’s an equal.’

Eugenia held her back a little straighter. ‘I don’t pretend to make the laws in Australia, but I do in my own house. I shall be speaking to Rosie’s mother about her future. Now you may go.’

He had failed to make the defence she had hoped he would. He had not insisted that Rosie was only his foster sister, and therefore their meeting in the dark was harmless. Instead, he made an appeal to his father. Gilbert sought Eugenia out in her sitting-room.

‘Eugenia, what’s this about sending Rosie away?’

‘Is that what Kit has been telling you?’

‘Something to that effect. The boy was upset. Thought you wanted to punish Rosie for something. Has she been offending you?’

‘Yes,’ said Eugenia briefly.

‘Then have it out with the girl.’

‘Since Kit thinks I’m being so harsh, he might have told you the whole story. Didn’t he?’

Gilbert said cagily, ‘Oh, something about the pair of them sneaking out to feed the ’possums the night of the ball. I told him he’d do better to take a gun and shoot the pests. He could knock down a few roos at the same time.’

‘At midnight by moonlight? I thought that was much more a time for lovers.’

‘Are you suggesting Kit and Rosie—but, good lord, they’re practically brother and sister.’ Gilbert laughed heartily, then stopped. A flicker of uneasiness crossed his face. ‘And still children,’ he added.

‘Did you think yourself a child at fourteen?’ Eugenia asked.

‘No, but I—’

‘But what?’

‘Well, I’d had to get out and fend for myself. I had to grow up young. I wasn’t pampered like Kit. Now look here, Eugenia, forget this escapade. The boy must have had a glass too many of wine. He hasn’t a head for it yet.’

Eugenia stood up, not attempting to control the temper flaring through her. For once she would forget the good manners with which Kit had taunted her.

‘In one breath you say Kit is a child, and in the next you admit you have been encouraging him to drink too much wine. It’s your wretched wine all the time! You helped both Colm O’Connor and Mrs Ashburton to their deaths. No, don’t deny it. Indirectly you did so. Perhaps not so indirectly with poor old Mrs Ashburton. And now you laugh because your son is fumbling with servant girls in the shrubbery because he has had too much to drink. Kit! Only fourteen! For heaven’s sake, Gilbert, teach him discipline and discrimination. Don’t allow him to ruin himself because you think you can brew a good wine and therefore everyone must drink it. Don’t you
see?

‘I see you’ve got yourself in a state.’

‘Gilbert. Listen to me!’

‘I’ve listened.’ Gilbert ran his hand wearily over his forehead. ‘Everything always comes back to my wine, doesn’t it? Every disaster. You must forgive me for saying you are a little fanatical on that point.’

‘But you admitted yourself that Kit must have had a glass too many.’

‘Oh, very well. I concede that. But I do
not
concede the comment on Mrs Ashburton’s death.’

‘I meant every word of it.’

‘My God! You can be an implacable woman, can’t you?’

‘When necessary. I intend speaking to Mrs Jarvis today. I’ll have Rosie placed in a position. She’s quite old enough. I’ve been thinking for some time that she should go. Miss Higgins has given her a reasonable education. She has us to thank for that. But I don’t think she has much gratitude. She neglects the duties she was given in the house. The maids say she always disappears when she’s wanted, and they find her sitting in the tree at the bottom of the garden. The same tree where the opossums were supposed to be the other night. It’s her favourite spot. Of course she must have lured Kit down there. There’s no question about that. So I won’t have her in the house any longer.’

‘You speak as if you hate her.’

‘And why do you defend her?’ Eugenia asked, and was puzzled to see the uneasiness flicker in Gilbert’s eyes again. Surely that sly girl hadn’t been using her wiles on him, too.

‘Because she is only a bit of a thing, I suppose. You wouldn’t want to turn Adelaide out at that tender age.’

‘Adelaide!’ Eugenia exclaimed. ‘But how can you make a comparison between her and Rosie?’

She would like to have sent Rosie farther away than Parramatta. She had discovered that being a mother could bring out a ruthless side to her nature, which she hadn’t known she possessed. Since Gilbert did not seem to realize the danger of Kit’s and Rosie’s continued friendship (or alternatively did not object to it), she must take control of the situation herself.

If only Rosie had inherited her mother’s honest character, and her gift for knowing her place, it would have been a different matter. Eugenia supposed servants like Mrs Jarvis were a vanishing race. Certainly in this country they were. She and this woman had gone through so much together, illness, disaster, childbirth, yet Mrs Jarvis had never been guilty of a word or an action that could be criticized.

Mrs Jarvis made no protest about Eugenia’s decision. But she looked pale and tired, Eugenia thought. Ageing, too. There was grey in the soft blonde hair. And her hands, clasped in front of her, were worn with hard work. She kept her eyes lowered too much, as if she were afraid of Eugenia seeing the trouble in them.

‘Now don’t be so worried, Mrs Jarvis. You must see that it’s time Rosie began work. Idleness isn’t good for her.’

‘Has she been up to some mischief, ma’am? You would tell me, wouldn’t you?’

Eugenia prevaricated. ‘Ellen and Emmy tell me that she’s lazy. She won’t do her work properly. But that’s understandable. She hasn’t been trained for housework. She has quite enough education to take a position as a governess, or in a school, which was what I had always intended for her. I can easily find a nice family in the country who would like a governess. There are all too few girls available. Or if she prefers to remain in Parramatta, where she can come here on her day off, then she is at liberty to do so. Will you speak to her yourself?’

‘Yes, ma’am. I will. And you’re right in what you say about her. She has a bit of wildness. But she’ll grow out of it, I’m sure.’

‘Yes, I’m sure, too,’ Eugenia said kindly.

‘It was not knowing her father’s nature well enough. Who knows what he had in him?’

‘Who knows what tendencies any of us inherit? We won’t blame Rosie for what she can’t help. I expect she’ll find herself a good young husband soon enough. Then, that’s settled, Mrs Jarvis.’

Kit went back to school, and without protest Rosie packed the wicker bag that her mother had brought from Sydney fifteen years ago. She was quite happy to leave Yarrabee. She didn’t much mind where she went, for the next two or three years. She bent over the small mirror on the table beside her bed studying her reflection. Straight brown hair, a nondescript face, those strange slanting eyes. Not much there to attract anyone’s attention. Except Kit’s, and she had always known how to have him in her spell…

With the candle blown out, and Molly’s face only a dark shape on the pillow beside him, Gilbert said, ‘I hope you’re not fretting about Rosie going off. My wife has a bee in her bonnet.’

‘Not a bee. Commonsense,’ Molly replied tranquilly.

‘Then you don’t mind?’

‘No. It’s the best thing. Rosie has to make her way. It’s time she began.’ She added, probing delicately, ‘Did you agree with the mistress?’