The Shadow of the Lynx (12 page)

Jessica’s hands were trembling as she took the cup.

“I think that tomorrow you might walk about a bit, Nora,” went on Adelaide.

“Not too far, of course. In the garden

perhaps. Don’t go wandering out into the bush yet, will you? “

Jessica had fallen into silence and when she left us Adelaide said.

“Did she talk wildly? She does now and then and I’m afraid this is one of her bad days. It doesn’t do to encourage her or to take too much notice of what she says.”

All the same I wanted to hear Jessica’s version of what happened to Maybella.

In a week my ankle had completely recovered and I felt as though I had been much longer than that time at Little Whiteladies. I was so anxious to make up for the Tansy incident that I helped Adelaide as much as I could. I began to learn to cook; I did a little gardening; I sewed; and I became like a daughter of the house. Adelaide and Stirling were pleased with me. I began to know the servants and this was when I realized how useful I could be, for the aboriginals were notorious for going ‘walk-about’ as they called it; and they were constantly disappearing. Even their fear of Lynx didn’t prevent them;

or perhaps it was one of the reasons for it. And whenever a white servant could not be found, it was always presumed that he or she had gone off to the diggings.

“I wish they’d never found gold in Victoria,” said Adelaide.

It was not long before I was riding again. One could not get along in this country without a horse, so it was no use letting one little mishap deter me. On Stirling’s advice I had a strawberry roan named incongruously Queen Anne; she was neither the old hack Blundell was nor was she of the calibre of Tansy.

“When you’re used to the country,” said Stirling, ‘we’ll find a better mount for you. In the meantime be a wise girl and stick to the good old Queen. “

So I did and I knew he was right, for I felt perfectly confident to control my Queen in any circumstances.

When I first saw the mine I looked at it in dismay. We had ridden to it through magnificent country and there it was replacing all that beauty with its ugliness. There was the poppet head supporting the wheels over which the steel ropes passed as the cages were hauled to the surface; the noise was deafening and even while I stood there an explosion rent the air.

“We’re using this new substance which Alfred Noble has

invented,” Stirling told me.

“It’s called dynamite and it saves endless work because it breaks up the rock and enables us to get at the gold. There are two hundred men working here.”

“Are they content to find gold for your father?”

“They are glad to work here. Most of them have been digging for years.

They’ve known hardship and think it’s good to work for a steady wage.

They know that those who found fortunes with the simple cradles are few and far between. The chances are too great; the hazards too many.

This is a safe job. They eat every day; all they have to do is work for the master. “

He pointed out the stampers, which were a new kind of machine to pound the ore and so extricate the gold from the quartz rock. It was all noise and activity. About the mine were rows of tents in which the miners and their families lived;

some even had cottages consisting of two rooms, one back one front;

these were the fortunate ones.

I said: “And your father owns this mine?”

“You have a share in it. Your father put in what money he had. There are other shareholders too, but my father owns the bulk of the shares, so he is the one with the controlling interest.”

“It’s nice to know that I am not entirely a pauper. Perhaps I’m even rich.”

The mine runs at a loss. “

“Then why all this … for a loss?”

“Hope is the answer. It goes with gold. There is more hope in this country than there ever was gold.”

“And even your father is affected by this mad gold hunger.”

“Even he. He came from England. He knew people there, rich people, who lived as he said ” graciously”. They did not concern themselves with money because they had so much that they never gave a thought to it.

He told me once that that was how he wanted to live, that was how he was going to live one day. “

“But he is secure … even rich. He commands you all. What more does he want?”

“He wants to bring about the realization of a dream. He wants first to find gold … such gold as has never before been found. From then he will go on with his plans.”

What plans? “

“Oh, he has plans. But the first step is his golden fortune. You see how we live. We do not stint ourselves—a large

house, many servants, interests in several places. It is costly living thus; and the mine eats up money. You’ve seen all these workers; they have to be paid. Machinery is expensive. The mine costs a great deal to run. My father wants an easy fortune in gold. Then he might go to England. “

“He could go back now.”

“Not as he wants to go. He would like to go back like a lord.”

I laughed derisively.

“Does he plan to have a title too?”

“Perhaps.”

“So meanwhile he builds a little Whiteladies and has an English garden and throws all his money into a gold mine that doesn’t pay.”

“Not at the moment, but later it will. My father will strike gold in a big way. Have no doubt of that. He has always found what he wanted.”

“How long has he been here? Thirty-five years, is it? And all that time he has wanted to go back and never has!”

“He only wants to go back in certain circumstances.”

“He, it seems, suffers as acutely as everyone else from this lust for gold. You talk of him as though he is some sort of god, but he is a worshipper in his turn. He worships gold.”

As we talked an old man passed us. At least, at first I thought he was an old man, until I saw that it was disease which made him seem so. A sudden paroxysm of coughing shook him and he stood doubled up with pain until it was over.

“Poor man,” I said, ‘he should be in bed. He should have a doctor.

”

I was about to speak to him when Stirling laid a hand on my arm.

“He’s one of hundreds,” he said.

“He has the miners’ complaint—phthisis.

It’s caused by dust and grime in the mines; it affects the lungs and in the end kills the victim. There is nothing to be done about it. “

“Nothing!” I cried.

“You mean men go down into the mine and it is known that they can contract this terrible disease?”

“It’s a hazard,” said Stirling lightly.

“They know it and they accept it.”

“And when they get it? What then?” What then? They die in time. It’s a killer. ” I was angry, thinking of that man, their master, who, in

his lust for gold, sent those men down into the mine to work for him.

“It’s wicked,” I said.

“It should be stopped. Stirling laughed at me.

“The trouble with you, Nora, is that you’re soft. Life is not.

Especially out here. That man has a job. He’s fed his family . if he has any. He came out here looking for gold and failed to find it, as thousands have. So he finds work in the gold mines. It’s dangerous work, but there’s danger everywhere in life. Even in cosy England there’s sudden death. Don’t take life so seriously. “

“I take death very seriously. Unnecessary death.” Then I thought of my father who had died for gold just as this man was dying; and I hated gold more fiercely than I ever had before. I saw them loading the dray which would take the gold to the Melbourne bank, and I thought of his setting out on his journey and giving his life to save the gold.

From that moment I personified Gold. I saw it as a cruel woman, greedy, rapacious, sly, capricious. The Gold Goddess— a kind of Circe, a Lorelei, who now and then rewarded those who served her in order to lure more victims from their homes, their families and all that was serene and secure in life that she might destroy them.

“I

want to see the spot where my father was shot,” I said.

“Why don’t you forget all that?”

“Forget that my father was murdered 1’ ” There is no good in remembering. “

“Would you forget if your father had been killed?” He flinched. I knew he could not contemplate a world that did not contain the mighty Lynx.

“I loved my father dearly,” I said.

“There was no one like him in the world. And here, in this country, he was wantonly killed by someone who didn’t even know him. And you ask me to forget that!”

“Come on, Nora. Let’s get away from here.” He turned and walked his horse to the road. I followed.

“Now,” I said, ‘take me to the spot where my father was shot, and after I’ve seen it I won’t speak to you again about him if you don’t want me to. “

We rode for some three miles and there he stopped. It was a beautiful spot—quiet and peaceful; and as we stood contemplating that perfect peace, the silence was broken by the notes of a bell bird. The dray came along the road from the mine,” said Stirling.

“It was just about here. He was not killed at once, you know. We brought him back to Whiteladies and there he wrote the letter which was sent to you—the last he ever wrote. He had already talked to my father about you. That was how it happened.”

I looked about me at the grove of eucalypts in which the assassin might have hidden. Beyond them was a hill—a small mountain perhaps, down which a stream trickled into the creek below.

It was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen.

“And here he met his death,” I said bitterly, ‘he who was in love with life, who had made such plans and had so many dreams. It need never have happened. He died . for gold. I hate gold. “

“Come away, Nora,” said Stirling.

“He died and you’ve lost him, but you have us now. Nora, you have me.”

I turned and looked at him; he brought his horse closer to mine and taking my hand pressed it briefly.

“I’ll make it up to you, Nora,” he said earnestly.

“You’ll

All that day and the next I kept thinking of my father and that poor man who was dying of phthisis; and when I was weeding in Adelaide’s garden I suddenly looked up and saw Lynx standing there watching me.

“How long have you been there?” I demanded.

Up went an eyebrow.

“I don’t answer questions when they are put so peremptorily.”

“I don’t like being watched when I’m unaware of it.”

“I don’t like people who are impolite.”

“Nor do I,” I retorted, standing up. The thought of that poor man dying of his lung complaint made me angry and I didn’t care whether or not I offended Lynx.

He decided not to be offended.

“I’m glad to see you working,” he said.

“I don’t like idleness in this house.”

“If you expect me to work you should say so. Perhaps you would like me to work down in your gold mine.”

He pretended to consider this.

“In what capacity, do you think?”

I decided not to answer that and said: “I understand that I own some shares in the company.”

“Your father had a few … a very few. They are not worth much.”

“Lite the mine itself, perhaps.”

“You are an expert on mining?”

“I know nothing of it, and don’t want to. I would rather not be connected with such a thing.”

He said: “I think it is time you and I had a talk. There are certain things we should know about each other.”

“I am eager to know of what concerns me.”

“Come to the library after dinner tonight.” He left me and I turned to Adelaide’s herb garden; the strong smell of sage was in the air. I thought: Tonight I will be bold. I will tell him what I think of this mine in which young men become old men before their time and ruin their lungs.

He did not appear at dinner that night, and I wondered whether when I went to his library he would be there. He was. He was sitting at table sipping a glass of what I presumed to be port wine. I guessed he had eaten dinner alone in this room, which I understood he did on some occasions.

“Ah, he said.

“Come in, Miss Nora. Sit there opposite me where I can see you.” I sat down. The light in the room was dim. Only two of the several oil lamps had been lighted.

“You will have a glass of port wine.” I declined because he made it sound more like a statement than an invitation.

He lifted the decanter and poured himself another glassful. I noticed his hands then for the first time; the fingers were long and slender and on the little finger of the right hand was a ring with a carved jade stone. There was an elegance about his smallest gesture and I could imagine his living graciously in an old English country mansion.

“You wanted to know about your position here,” he said.

“You are my ward. I am your guardian. This was arranged by your father before his untimely end. He knew the hazards of this country and he often talked, in this room, of his fears and anxieties; and I gave him my promise that in the event of his death before you reached the age of twenty-one, I would take you into my care.”

“He must have had some premonition that he was going to die.”

He shook his head.

“Your father was a man who dreamed wild dreams. He was enthusiastic about them but in his heart he knew they would never come true. Deep in his mind he admitted to himself that he would never make his fortune; but

80 ;

it was only when he considered you that he made practical plans. You can count that as a measure of his affection for you. For you he stepped outside himself and admitted the truth as he knew it to be. So he made this bargain with me and before he died he drew up a document appointing me as your guardian. I agreed to his request—so here we are. ” Why did he choose you?”

Again that tilt of the eyebrow.

“You say that as though you think me unworthy of his trust?”

“He knew you such a short time.”

“He knew me well enough. We knew each other. Therefore, you have to accept me. You have no alternative.”

“I daresay I could earn my living.”

“In the mine … as you suggested? It is not easy for a young woman to earn a living unless it is as a housemaid or something such, which I do assure you would be a very poor one.”