Ghost Gum Valley (44 page)

‘But that's physically impossible.'

‘Not with
this
mirror. It's magic, an illusion. You know that phrase magicians use to conceal the secrets of their trade from the uninitiated?'

‘Yes. They say, “It's all done with mirrors.”'

‘Right. So now we're going to test the truth of that. But remember you're in complete control of this illusion, Isabel. You can walk away whenever you wish, understand me?'

She nodded, uncertain.

‘You once told me you would love to be an actress. Here's your chance. Just imagine that the two people reflected in this mirror are not Isabel and Marmaduke – they're just two actors in a play. We are the audience. You and I must
not
touch or look at each other on this side of the mirror. Look only at
them.
They exist only inside this mirror.'

Marmaduke did not look directly at her as he beckoned her. Tentatively she took a step closer. They both stared straight ahead into the mirror.

‘On this side of the mirror the reality is we are Isabel and Marmaduke. Two human creatures locked into matrimony, each for our own mercenary reasons. You dislike me intensely and—'

‘Well, not
all
the time.'

‘Thank you. The trick is we must now abandon Isabel and Marmaduke on
this
side of the mirror. We will step through the mirror into the Garden of Eden and become Adam and Eve. See their world through their eyes. Step into their shoes.'

‘No shoes. They were naked.'

‘Precisely. As God made them, naked and unashamed, like two children.' He paused, ‘Close your eyes, count to ten. Then you will meet Adam.'

Isabel closed her eyes and counted but trembled as she realised the significance of the game she had agreed to play. She heard the rustle of silk as his robe fell to the floor.
Ten.
She opened her eyes and blinked but kept her gaze fixed on Adam's face in the mirror. He did not look at Eve. He simply waited.

Isabel knew she had the right to break away and end the game. But she chose not to move. Her eyes were drawn sidelong to the strong lines of Adam's body. Not smooth and white like a marble statue, his flesh was light olive in colour. Not classical. There was a matt of dark hair on the chest, the forearms and legs – and even
there. No fig leaf.
Adam's body was slightly flawed with occasional fine scars. Strong and virile though he was, the thought struck her that naked Adam looked surprisingly vulnerable. Imperfect, yet at the same time more perfect than any marble statue she had ever seen.

Isabel suddenly felt as if the actress playing Eve was cheating. Wearing a robe like a suit of armour to protect herself – from what? She felt quite sure Adam would not touch her. Her heart began to beat wildly as on impulse she untied the sash and allowed her robe to slip to the floor.

Adam kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. He said very gently, ‘Hello, Eve.'

‘Hello, Adam.'

‘Thank you for coming to keep me company. Animals are quite fun to play with. But I felt terribly lonely in this beautiful garden with no one to talk to.'

‘I had no choice in the matter,' Eve said promptly. ‘God took one of your ribs and created me out of it. Like it or not.'

Adam counted his ribs. ‘So that's where the missing one got to. Clever of Him to fashion you from just a bit of bone. But I guess if He can make dinosaurs and elephants, He can make just about anything He fancies.'

Adam's eyes remained fixed ahead. ‘We're different from all the other animals, Eve.' He gestured casually from his chest to his groin. ‘You're the same as me – but not quite.'

‘I'd noticed,' Eve said, trying not to blush.

Adam frowned with the effort of thinking. ‘I quite like the difference. But I wonder why God didn't make us exactly the same? Did He tell you?'

‘No. But all the animals have a female and a male of the species. Why not us?'

‘So they do!' Adam said in surprise. ‘Eve, you seem to have been born knowing things that I didn't notice. Does that mean Woman is cleverer than Man?'

‘No. But you're bigger and stronger than me, so I guess God gave me something to help balance things.'

Adam hesitated. ‘Are you happy to share this garden with me, Eve?'

‘I don't know. It's quite beautiful. And we'll never go hungry with so many kinds of fruit to eat. Everything seems to grow without help from us. God seems very kind. Do you think He has a special plan for us?'

‘Oh, yes,' said Adam. ‘Our Creator is
full
of big plans.' He held out his hand sideways but didn't look at her directly. ‘Let me show you around the garden.'

Tentatively Eve slipped her hand into his. She felt comforted by the warmth of it.

Adam dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘There are only two trees we're forbidden to eat. I suppose God told you that too?'

Eve nodded. ‘I wonder why.'

‘Never asked him. But He seems pretty determined on that score. He keeps telling me, “Do this, don't do that. And you can live the life of Riley.”'

Adam's eyes flicked sideways to Eve. ‘Have you ever noticed a snake in our garden?'

Eve looked a bit wary. ‘Only one. He seemed quite a friendly fellow.'

‘He really knows his way around the Garden of Eden. Slithers up and down trees like he owns the place. What do you think? Maybe
he
has all the answers about the forbidden trees?' Adam sighed. ‘I'd give anything to know.'

Eve hesitated, ‘What are you suggesting? Do you want
me
to go and ask him?'

‘Why not? What have we got to lose?' Adam asked.

Where on earth is this game leading?
Isabel suddenly froze and the spell was broken. Marmaduke casually draped her robe across her shoulders then turned his back as he slipped into his own paisley robe.

‘You played the scene beautifully, Isabel. Eve never stepped out of character. I think you would make a very fine actress.'

Now the game was ended Isabel was startled to find she was no longer nervous. She tied the sash of her robe and wrapped it like a silken skin around her body.

‘It was my dream as a child. To run off with a troupe of strolling players and change my name. Can you imagine a Plantagenet treading the boards – and a woman at that? Uncle Godfrey would have had a pink fit. I wonder why they say that fits are pink?'

‘Maybe because people go red in the face.'

‘In that case they should be red fits.'

‘So they should.' Hands in his pockets, Marmaduke paused in the act of crossing to the door of the adjoining room. ‘Time to dress for dinner. By the way, what did you think of Adam? A bit of a clod I thought, but harmless enough without his fig leaf?'

‘Quite nice looking. Just a boy at heart. Eve had nothing to fear.'

Marmaduke nodded thoughtfully as if digesting a compliment paid to another man. Gently he closed the door between them.

Isabel sank down on her bed and felt her heart racing, no longer from fear but an oddly excited feeling of self-discovery.

What is happening? Who am I really?

Her impulsive decision to drop her robe and stand naked beside
the first naked male she had ever seen had been like plunging into cold water. After the initial shock it had felt almost natural. Not the unforgiveable sin that Silas had made her believe she must have committed to become a fallen woman.

It felt innocent. Is this the way God really intended it to be?

The sound of the dinner gong reverberated through the house as Isabel hurriedly rustled through the new gowns hanging in her wardrobe and chose another of Marmaduke's designs made by Madame Hortense. Isabel slipped the turquoise belled skirt over her head and slid her arms through the fashionable balloon sleeves, ready for Marmaduke to lace up the back placket. She looked at her reflection in the ‘magical' mirror, conscious of a second wave of liberation quite unlike any previous emotion she had experienced.

When I stepped into the world on the other side of this mirror I suddenly wasn't afraid any more. I was free! Like a butterfly breaking out of a chrysalis. I felt I was truly inside Eve's skin and Marmaduke was truly Adam. What on earth is happening to me? Is this the way actors feel when they're on stage?

Isabel said the words out loud to the girl in the mirror. ‘Does this mean that even the wildest dreams are possible?'

The girl in the mirror smiled knowingly back at her. ‘It's all done with mirrors.'

Chapter 31

The dinner gong had just sounded its summons to dress for dinner when Garnet strode into the empty dining room. His eagle eye scanned the dining table extended with leaves to its full length. Was any detail contrary to his instructions to Elise? Everything must be perfect.

Tonight's intimate dinner for six was a dress rehearsal for his forthcoming birthday banquet for twenty of the local gentry who had shunned his invitations since Elise's installation as resident mistress after Miranda's death.

Aware that Elise was hovering nervously in the doorway, Garnet gave a snort of amusement at the sight of her, tightly laced to the point of fainting in a Regency-striped affair that some whorehouse madam might wear.

‘Look at you, woman. More feathers than a lyrebird.'

‘Aren't I fine enough for Isabel's company?' Elise asked plaintively.

‘You'll do well enough.' He added grudgingly, ‘Colour suits you.'

‘Is everything to your liking, Garnet? I wrote the placecards myself – with Rhys's help. He's most pleased with my reading progress.'

Garnet was irritated by her air of superiority, her intended oneupmanship. His own literacy had never progressed beyond the signature he signed with a flourish on the legal documents he was unable to read.

‘What's so damned clever about being able to read nursery rhymes and the 23rd Psalm?'

He pointed to the framed gilt-edged Masonic certificate he had ordered to be hung here to impress his guests. This document was the first time he had signed his name, no longer a ‘marksman', confined to a humiliating cross.

‘Now
that
signature was a real milestone. The third of March 1823 when I – and Sam Terry – were initiated as Freemasons in the Australian Social Lodge 260. Its roots were in Ireland so its bold
decision to accept Emancipists as Masons really put the cat amongst the pigeons for Exclusives the selected!' he said triumphantly.

‘Sam and I dined with our Masonic Brothers that night at the Freemasons' Tavern in George Street. Drank the health of our sponsor, Francis Greenway.'

‘Wasn't he the architect transported for forgery?' Elise asked slyly.

‘So what? Governor Macquarie granted him an Absolute Pardon in 1819. And Greenway fulfilled Macquarie's grand architectural vision for Sydney Town.'

Garnet flicked a finger at a wineglass, satisfied by the ringing tone that it was genuine crystal. ‘Poor bastard fell from grace. He's doing it tough. Barely able to subsist on his marshy land grant on the Hunter but too proud to accept charity. I must get Powell to commission him to design a house for me somewhere.'

Elise was eyeing him warily. ‘Has Dr Bland accepted your invitation to the banquet? It would be good for you to see him, Garnet, yes?'

The inference was clear. Bland was the one physician who might be able to control Garnet's dark ‘episodes'. For years Bland had generously provided his professional medical expertise to the Benevolent Society. The bitter irony of this did not escape Garnet. The most wretched lunatics benefitted from Bland's knowledge but it was impossible to keep madness under wraps in Sydney.

‘I don't need Bland for medical advice,' he snapped. ‘I refuse to be made a public spectacle in lampoons like mad King George III. Or poor old John Macarthur, who no longer has control of his land and fortune.'

He turned on her. ‘And don't drink too much wine, tonight. That arsenic cosmetic has turned your skin so white your nose goes red at the smell of a cork.'

Elise's eyes flashed in a way that he had never noticed. Had she grown to hate him more than she loved his money? He threw her a crumb of kindness to mollify her. ‘Bright idea of yours ordering this new mirror.'

Elise flushed with pleasure. ‘They say it's a larger version of the one that will grace the mansion the Colonial Secretary is building on his Elizabeth Bay grant.'

‘That so? Alexander McLeay thinks he's the arbiter of good taste in Sydney.' Garnet eyed the mirror with satisfaction. ‘Mine's bigger than his, is it? Just proves anything that a Scots Tory can do, Garnet Gamble can go one better.'

The mirror was not unduly large but had an extraordinary range of vision. Its concave glass gave a fish-eye perspective of the entire room.

Elise slipped her arm through his. ‘Once the assigned servants serve each course, they must line up facing the mirror, their backs to the company. I gave them strict instructions to keep their eyes on the mirror to anticipate anything that we or our guests require. Watch!'

Like a mischievous child she ran to the far end of the table and seated herself in Garnet's master chair. ‘Look in the mirror. Can you see me? What am I doing now?'

‘Touching your glass to show you want more wine,' he said.

‘Right! This clever mirror also gives us a measure of protection from servants' gossip. They'll miss out on the conversation of their betters.'

At the second ring of the Chinese dinner gong Garnet crossed to the withdrawing room to welcome his guests. Rhys Powell arrived dead on time, his shock of dark hair and side whiskers groomed to a shine, but as nervous as a colt in his well-worn frockcoat.

Diminutive Queenie sailed into the room with all the dignity of a Maharani, adorned in a midnight blue sari patterned with silver stars. Her collection of exotic Indian jewellery was a painful reminder of Miranda.