Ghost Gum Valley (62 page)

Isabel's felt her body flooded with white-hot energy. Her hand clawed Silas's face, drawing deep rivulets of blood down his cheek. As she broke free and ran to the mare she felt sickened by the thought that fragments of his skin must lie beneath her fingernails.

Overwhelmed by the horror of the way Silas had extinguished Martha's life, she did not doubt that Martha had died in terror, aware that Silas was about to smother her and unable to call for help. The long-buried memory of what Silas had done to her as a child triggered an even greater fear. What would happen should Silas ever discover Rose Alba's existence?

It took moments for Isabel to register reality – Silas's face, shocked by her violence. As she hoisted herself into the saddle he lunged towards her. His eyes were the eyes of
that stranger
. Her mare was so nervous it reared in fright. Isabel clung to its neck to prevent herself being thrown down at Silas's feet.

‘You stole my innocence. Blighted my childhood, cousin. I will not allow you to ruin the rest of my life. It's mine, do you hear me?
Mine
!'

It chilled her to see Silas smile. She had left four thin scars on his cheek – her own personal brand on him. He did not seem to feel any pain, only excitement.

Silas shook his head in denial. ‘No! Our lives will run parallel for the moment, Isabel. I have taken a lease on Penkivil Park, only a few miles away. I am your neighbour. Next time we meet, Isabel,
you
will come to
me
.'

Those strange green eyes were so sure of their power over her.

Isabel clung to the horse's mane and dug her heels into its flanks. She prayed that her mare knew the way home to Bloodwood Hall because right now she was blind to everything around her, her mind filled with the terrifying images her memory had suppressed for years.

...as a child lying naked in the priest's hole...drowsy...unable to move...the crucifix upside down on the altar...a man wearing the mask of the Horned god...its green eyes...the eyes of Silas...

Isabel ran through the house, ignoring the open-mouthed expressions of the servant girls she passed. She found Garnet sitting alone on the terrace, a half empty jug of gin and lime juice on a table beside him. His brooding expression quickly changed to welcome as she burst out onto the terrace.

‘Garnet, something terrible and yet wonderful has happened.
I have just recovered lost memories from my childhood. I know it makes no sense but yes, terrible, yet wonderful. For the first time in my life I am truly free.'

Unable to control her joy, she flung her arms wide and whirled in the circle of an impromptu dance before she sank into the planter's chair facing him.

‘Free, m'dear? Not from Marmaduke, I trust?'

She gave in to a peal of laughter. ‘Not Marmaduke! He is the one I must thank for my freedom. I'm broken away from the sins of the past, Garnet. Do you know what that means? I feel light-headed. Young in the way I never felt as a child. For the first time in my life, I truly belong to myself!'

Garnet poured two glasses of gin and lime juice and handed one to her.

‘Here drink this, it'll steady your nerves, girl. And mine!'

Isabel accepted the glass trying to contain her laughter. She knew she was on the verge of hysteria and couldn't control the pitch of her voice, but she did not care.

‘Let's drink to the future. To Marmaduke's safe return and to all of us, freedom from the past!'

And then she began laughing and crying at the same time.

Garnet needed no second invitation. They clinked glasses and downed their drinks in one unbroken measure.

Isabel leapt to her feet and brought the chessboard to the table, brushing aside his bundle of business papers as if they were as unimportant as old confetti.

‘Today I choose to be on the Duke of Wellington's side. But stand warned, Garnet, at long last I am going to beat Napoleon Bonaparte.'

Garnet's eyes were brimming with merriment. ‘And about time too. Do you think I don't know when a clever young lady is allowing an older man to win?'

Isabel gasped in surprise until, recognising Garnet's true delight, she joined his laughter and the wonderful new feeling of closeness that she felt must be the bond a daughter shared with a loved father.

Chapter 43

Arriving in Sydney Town Marmaduke felt a surge of conflicting emotions. After the past weeks of sharing with Isabel an oasis of romantic, idyllic serenity, mentally shielded from the outside world, he felt he had been catapulted back into the brutal reality of the Colony – a world of crime, murder, executions. Within days he must give his full attention to hearing the evidence at a murder trial in which the victim was Rupert Grantham, the man whose company he had enjoyed and although he did not know him intimately, he had been glad to call friend.

But Marmaduke's immediate concern was the ‘special cargo' Edwin had advised him had arrived – the two people whom he had invited to share his life with Isabel but who had arrived independently under unusual circumstances. He was now responsible for Isabel's widowed aunt, Elisabeth Ogden née de Rolland, and Rose Alba, a small child reared by her aunt but who Marmaduke was sure was the unacknowledged child of Isabel and her ‘double cousin' Silas.

I told myself I wanted to become Isabel's hero but I didn't realise just how complicated that role would become. I must now simultaneously take responsibility for the lives of two men who may or may not have butchered my friend. Take on the role of de facto stepfather with absolutely no experience of kids. And be prepared to confront Silas de Rolland when he lobs in the Colony.

Soon after Marmaduke's arrival at the Princess Alexandrina, travel-stained and weary, Edwin came straight from court, in his robes and barrister's wig, to brief him.

‘I thought it unwise to go into details in my letter to Bloodwood, knowing Garnet's penchant for reading your mail. And your wish to keep under wraps your plans to bring Isabel's aunt and the child Rose Alba to the Colony. The true story is rather complex.'

Edwin explained that Elisabeth Ogden had sailed prior to Marmaduke's invitation on her own initiative. She had paid their ship's passages to the Colony but their voyage had been broken at Cape
Town when they contracted a severe fever. On their arrival at Port Jackson, Edwin had installed the woman and child in a suite at the hotel. As they were both suffering from effects of the fever, he had placed them in the care of Dr William Bland and two hired nurses who cared for them in alternate shifts night and day. The hotel staff had strict instructions that until Marmaduke's arrival they were to receive no visitors with the exception of the surgeon and Edwin.

‘I trust I have done as you would have wished, Marmaduke. Both patients are quite debilitated from the fever. Dr Bland assures me they are expected to make a full recovery but must not be moved or indeed travel to the country for some time.'

‘Edwin, you are a gem of a man. Not only are you fighting to save prisoners from the gallows, balancing the needs of your own family – your mother against your bride – but you've taken on the responsibility of Isabel's family of invalids as well.'

Marmaduke enveloped him in an extravagant hug then was startled by a sudden thought. ‘But if you found their names on the ship's passenger lists that means Silas de Rolland would also be able to find them when he arrives in the Colony.'

‘No. Mrs Ogden had the foresight to book their passage under the assumed name of Jones, and I continued that practice here at the hotel. I gained the impression that the lady regards her nephew Silas with the same degree of contempt that we do.'

‘Does she realise her connection with me – the son of the man who was transported for the so-called theft of her garnet ring?'

Edwin looked embarrassed. ‘I did not feel it I my place to do so. However, Mrs Ogden is aware this hotel is owned by a wealthy entrepreneur named Gamble but she doesn't appear to have connected him to the young servant called George who served her family nearly three decades ago. I thought I'd best leave you to sort out the delicate web of de Rolland and Gamble family history.'

‘Thanks, Edwin, I look forward to that,' Marmaduke said dryly.

Edwin returned to what to him was more comfortable legal territory by summarising the known facts of the murder case. The police had only been able to bring James Leech and Will Barrenwood to trial because nineteen-year-old Paul Brown, had turned King's Evidence.

‘Hell, Edwin, when one of a trio of murderers rats on the other two, their trial promises to have more fireworks than the King's celebration of Guy Fawkes' Night.'

Edwin reminded him. ‘All men are innocent until proven guilty under British law. I trust no impediment will be placed in your way of serving on the jury. Despite your bias in being Rupert's friend, or indeed because of it, you of all jurymen can be counted on to ensure that the prisoners accused of his murder are indeed innocent until proven guilty.'

‘I hear you loud and clear, Edwin. I'm the last bloke who'd want to see innocent men hanged – and know that the true villains got off scot-free.'

Marmaduke immediately arranged for Mrs Jones and child to be moved into the commodious Gamble family chambers as soon as Dr Bland gave his approval. Meanwhile they were in rooms adjacent to his and, after changing his clothes in an attempt to make a decent impression on Isabel's aunt, he received permission to visit her.

A young housemaid advised him. ‘They are both very fragile, sir. The doctor said one of us assigned girls must sit by their bedside night and day, we must.'

Marmaduke thanked her. One look at the two figures lying together in the large four-poster bed and Marmaduke was confronted by two projections of Isabel past and future. The woman Isabel might grow to resemble in her later years; the child an image of how Isabel must have looked as a little girl. The family resemblance was unmistakeable in facial structure and colouring. Each pale, drained face bore the stamp of what he now realised was the legacy of generations of aristocratic de Rollands. The woman in her late forties had a natural beauty that poverty and illness had diminished but failed to destroy. When Marmaduke's eyes rested on the small pinched face of the sleeping Rose Alba, he felt an odd sensation that reminded him of the florid language in romantic novels – ‘his heart turned over at the sight of her'.

Rose Alba. No doubting she's Isabel's child. She's exquisite. But as fragile as china. God willing she hasn't travelled this far only to be lost to us! No, I won't allow that to happen. She's the only child Isabel and I will ever have.

Remembering his manners, Marmaduke bowed to the lady and tentatively addressed her by her widow's surname. Instantly charmed by the gentle smile in her green eyes and her outstretched hand, when she corrected him and established herself as Aunt Elisabeth, he kissed her hand and sat by her bedside.

‘Aunt Elisabeth, you are so dear to Isabel's heart. I'm terribly sorry I wasn't here to welcome you to New South Wales. I've just learnt of your broken voyage and the fever you both suffered. The child is she...will she...?' He could not bring himself to ask her fate.

‘Rose Alba is exhausted and weakened by fever but she is a healthy little soul. The kindly surgeon, your friend Dr Bland, is confident she will make a full recovery given time. However,' she added with a faint smile of resignation, ‘my old bones will take a little longer, Cousin Marmaduke – if I may call you that?'

Despite her ordeal Elisabeth's English county accent and calm manner reminded him of the duchess he had witnessed opening a charity fete in Sussex on the same day that her husband the duke had been carted off to debtors' prison.

You've got to admire the Brits – it takes a lot to knock 'em off their perch.

‘Call me Marmaduke, please. Let's dispense with the word
cousin
. In my book it has unfortunate connotations.'