I sit down in front of the mirror and begin to comb the tangles from my hair. I smile at my reflection as I watch myself take up a pair of scissors and carefully cut a long golden tress from my head.
EIGHT
The ring! Allie jumped out of bed to fetch the china dish with the pink roses. She opened it and took out the ring of black hair. She stared at it, understanding now where it had come from. How romantic that Cormac had made Alice a ring out of his own hair. But why had she left it in her diary when she’d promised Cormac that she’d wear it always?
A chill ran through Allie as she remembered Noah telling her that Cormac had been hanged by John Bennett after taking part in a mutiny.
But no, that couldn’t be right, Allie thought, as she recalled what Alice had said in her diary: that those convicts who had taken part in the mutiny were all in prison — and Cormac was certainly not one of them. So Noah was wrong about Cormac’s fate. Allie wondered if she’d ever have the courage to tell him how she knew.
She fingered the ring as she imagined Alice kissing Cormac; imagined how she herself would feel if she was kissed by Noah. She felt her heart beat faster; her body ached with wanting.
This was nothing to do with Noah! With an effort, she dragged her thoughts back to Alice’s diary.
Sunday
Obeying my father’s instructions, my mother invites several officers to call on us after the service today. I wonder if she specified who should come or whether they have drawn lots. I am dismayed, but not surprised, to see Jack Cartwright among them.
The officers stand about, waiting for us to sit down. I quickly find a space between my mother and Susannah. Jack seems pleasant enough, but I don’t want to encourage him. He chooses a seat beside Susannah, I suspect to be close to me, although I am not sure that is how my sister interprets his gesture. In fact, she looks delighted and at once engages him in conversation.
‘You should have left a space for Lieutenant Cartwright to sit beside you,’ my mother murmurs.
‘Susannah is so fond of him, I thought it the right thing to do,’ I whisper back.
I know I am being naughty, but if I can please my sister and myself at the same time it seems to me that my action is justified. But my satisfaction does not last long.
‘I understand you have been invited to dine at Longridge next Saturday week?’ Jack asks, craning past Susannah to catch my attention.
To ignore him would be impolite. ‘Yes, indeed.’ And, because it seems expected of me, I continue, ‘Shall we see you there, Lieutenant Cartwright?’
‘Please, call me Jack. And yes, I shall certainly be there. Several of us have been invited along to help entertain the ladies after dinner.’
Susannah is determined not to be left out of things. To my relief, she takes up the conversation once more.
‘What sort of entertainment shall we have? Do you know, Jack?’ I notice she has no difficulty calling him by his first name. ‘Shall we have dancing, do you think?’ She clasps her hands together. ‘Please say you’ll dance with me, Jack.’
‘It will be my pleasure.’
The words are gallant, but he is looking at me as he says them. I quickly look away. Yet the thought of dancing ignites a small hope in my heart. If there is to be dancing, perhaps Cormac and the other convict musicians will be there too.
‘Or it may be that we shall play at cards,’ Susannah chatters on. ‘I must confess that I am no good at all at chess, but I play a creditable hand at cards. Don’t I, Alice?’ She turns to me with a look of appeal.
‘Indeed you do, Susannah. Bridge, whist, canasta, whichever game you care to name.’ I look at Jack. ‘I warn you, she is very sharp. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating her.’
Susannah looks delighted, Jack somewhat baffled.
‘Do you enjoy a game of cards, Miss Bennett?’ he asks.
‘No, not really. I am not nearly as good a player as Susannah.’
‘What game are you playing?’ my mother hisses in my ear. ‘That young man could not be more attentive and yet you fob him off at every turn.’
‘Susannah likes him,’ I say. ‘I am just leaving the way open for her, that is all.’
‘Then you are wasting your time,’ my mother says dryly. ‘He does not strike me as a man who gives up easily.’
‘An interesting conversation always outweighs a game of cards in my opinion,’ says my gallant admirer, leaning around Susannah once more.
For once Susannah is silenced. And so am I. My mother is right in her estimation of Jack Cartwright’s tenacity. For Susannah’s sake, and my own, I am sorry that it is so.
I sink into a reverie; my fingers stray to Cormac’s ring as I recall the sweetness of his kiss. The thought of him stirs my blood and sets my senses reeling. I am of an age to marry, and I know that he is the one I want.
‘If there is to be dancing at Longridge, may I have the honour of the first dance?’ Jack Cartwright asks, breaking into my thoughts.
I nod in agreement. I have no choice.
Saturday
On the way to the Robertsons’ dinner, I listen to the mournful cries of the shearwaters. They sound like lost souls calling for salvation. I shudder, fancying that they are calling for justice for the convicts now on trial for mutiny. Although they protested their innocence, twenty-six convicts were committed for trial, all of them members of the notorious Ring. They have been brought to the schoolroom, which is being used as a courthouse. The judge has already found twelve of them guilty. From what I have learned while listening in to my parents’ conversation, the trial is coming to an end and the results are a foregone conclusion. It seems there will be no mercy shown and the men will hang. I have heard the sound of hammering and know that the gallows is already in place, waiting for them.
Ever since the judge arrived, Father has forbidden us to go out. The guards around our home have been doubled because of the defiance and open rudeness of those convicts called to give evidence. Feeling trapped and helpless, I tried once again to raise the topic of music lessons, but Father was brusquely dismissive, his mind most obviously on the trial and its attendant difficulties. I decide to put my own interests aside for the present. I do not want to antagonise him unnecessarily. But I miss even the small freedom that I enjoyed previously, and more than anything I miss seeing Cormac. I am filled with delight at the thought that he may be at Longridge even now, with his fellow musicians.
Father’s low grumble catches my attention. ‘Damned waste of time going out tonight, Mary. You should have refused the invitation.’
‘To do so would have caused great offence.’ Mother puts her hand on his arm. ‘I know you have had words with Gilbert, my dear, but for tonight could you please put your differences aside so that we may just relax and enjoy ourselves?’
‘I already have enough on my mind with this trial going on,’ he snaps. ‘It is an added burden having to make polite conversation with someone whom I —’
‘John!’ Mother inclines her head towards Susannah and me.
Father harrumphs and subsides into silence.
The unearthly wailing of the shearwaters fills the carriage. I shiver again, and cross my hands over my chest to rub my arms.
‘Did a goose walk over your grave?’ Susannah asks.
I can barely see my sister’s face in the dim glow cast by the carriage lamps, but I suppose she felt my movement for we are sitting close together on one side of the carriage. Our parents sit on the other, with a sleepy William squashed between them.
‘Cheer up, Alice.’ Susannah pokes me in the ribs. ‘You are sure to be a hit with Jack Cartwright, not to mention every other officer on the island. I just wish I was old enough that they would take me seriously.’
There is a note of resentment underneath her reassuring words, and I understand the reason for it. There has been a great to-do and trying on of dresses today, with Susannah apparently determined to outshine everyone tonight — I suspect for Jack’s benefit. She denies it
, and accuses me of the exact same thing. I have not disabused her, keeping to myself the hope that there will be dancing and the Irish brothers will be there to provide the music for it. Each of us is aflutter with excitement, but for different reasons.
To my dismay, my father decides to take an interest in our conversation. ‘That Jack Cartwright seems a decent fellow. What do you think of him, Alice?’
My heart sinks. In all fairness, Jack is indeed a personable young man. But he is not a tall Irishman with laughing blue eyes.
‘I am not interested,’ I mumble. ‘I don’t want to get married and settle down. Not yet anyway,’ I amend hurriedly.
‘You must at least think about it,’ Mother joins in. ‘You don’t want to be an old maid, Alice.’
‘Elizabeth is older than me. Not being married doesn’t seem to worry her.’
As soon as I say the words, I regret them.
My parents exchange glances.
‘Elizabeth is a very sick young woman,’ Mother says quietly. ‘You are not to say anything, girls, but you must keep your distance when you talk to her in case there is a risk of infection.’
‘What is wrong with her?’ Susannah wants to know.
‘They fear it is the wasting disease. Consumption.’
‘How can you waste away if you have consumption?’ Susannah asks. ‘Doesn’t consumption mean eating a lot?’
In spite of the gravity of the diagnosis, I cannot help smiling. ‘Consumption is another word for tuberculosis,’ I explain. ‘It is a disease of the lungs.’ I turn to Mother. ‘Can’t they do anything to help Elizabeth? Surely the Robertsons should return to Van Diemen’s Land, or New South Wales, so that she may receive proper medical attention?’
Mother shakes her head. ‘They have consulted Dr Graham, I believe, and he has given Elizabeth some physic for her cough. He says that the temperate climate here, along with clean air and good fresh food, represent the best hope for her recovery. All are to be found at Longridge,’ she continues. ‘There is not much else anyone can do for her, other than hope and pray for her recovery.’
I remember the blood-spattered handkerchief and feel a great sadness for my friend. And, I am afraid, also for myself. Elizabeth’s presence on the island is important to me. Although there has not been much chance for us to talk, I feel that I have found an ally.
‘You are not to say anything to anyone,’ Mother warns again. ‘Mrs Robertson told me in confidence about her daughter’s plight. They are very worried about her. I only mention it now to prevent either of you speaking out of turn, that is all. And do keep your distance from her, won’t you.’
‘Of course we won’t say anything.’
I answer for Susannah as well as myself. It seems clear to me that Elizabeth knows exactly what is wrong with her; clear also that she has no intention of either talking about it or inviting our pity.
The doors of the house at Longridge stand open, light from the whale-oil lamps spilling out in a lake of gold. Soldiers stand on guard outside. Mrs Robertson rushes forwards to welcome us, and we follow her into the dining room, where the family and other guests await us.
‘The officers will join us later for cards,’ Mrs Robertson advises as she guides my mother to a seat at the table.
I cannot contain myself any longer. ‘Is there to be dancing?’
‘I’m afraid not, Alice.’ She frowns, and casts a quick glance at my father, who has moved away to talk to her husband. ‘That was our intention, but we were unable to secure your father’s permission for the convict musicians to leave the barracks.’ Her voice is low so that my father may not hear her words nor the implied criticism behind them.
No dancing! My heart sinks. Although I am happy to see Elizabeth and her sisters, I am already resigning myself to the tedium of an evening without the presence of the man I most want to see.
‘God be thanked for small mercies that the gentlemen are not here now,’ Elizabeth murmurs as she gestures for me to sit beside her. ‘I shall make my excuses after dinner and go to my room. I have to say, they weary me beyond bearing.’
I study my friend’s pale complexion and wonder if it is the gentlemen and their oily flattery that weary Elizabeth, or her condition. I am alarmed at how frail she seems. But I say nothing of it, and instead sit down and set myself to be entertaining.
‘I would like to absent myself too,’ I confide, ignoring Mother’s advice to keep my distance and putting my mouth close to Elizabeth’s ear so that we cannot be overheard. ‘My parents are always at me to make a match, but I have not yet met a gentleman who takes my fancy.’
Which is true, given no-one here would count convicts as gentlemen. Even so I feel a sense of betrayal as I say the words.
‘Who would you choose, if you were me?’ I add quickly.
‘Certainly not the convict.’
‘What?’ My raised voice attracts everyone’s attention.
‘Sshh,’ Elizabeth warns. ‘I saw how your gaze kept wandering down to the shoreline where he helped to unload the cargo. And I noticed how you waylaid him and his brother for a word. It was not a chance meeting, I think?’
I swallow hard. ‘No, you are right,’ I murmur, when at last I am able to speak.
Inwardly, I am berating myself for drawing attention to Cormac so needlessly. I am horrified to think that others might also have noticed, might have drawn their own conclusions from my actions. If any mention of this reaches my father, I have already jeopardised both Cormac’s future and my plans to see more of him.
Elizabeth touches my hand in a gesture of reassurance. ‘Take heart, Alice. I cannot lead an active life and so my hobby is to sit and watch, and to listen, and to make judgments about the people I see. I am not always right, mind you, but I do believe there is an attraction between you and that convict, for I saw also that he watched you when his overseer was not looking. So tell me, have my eyes deceived me?’
Slowly, I shake my head.
‘You must stop whatever lies between you,’ Elizabeth warns. ‘Trust me, Alice, there is no future in such a liaison. There is only heartbreak for you, and danger for him. Danger for you, too, if your father should find out about it.’
‘I have already told myself all the things you say,’ I whisper. ‘But my heart goes out to these poor convicts, Elizabeth.’
‘As does mine.’ She hesitates. ‘I know at firsthand just how wretched is their lot for my own father spent time in prison in Van Diemen’s Land.’
Open-mouthed, I stare at my friend. I knew there was a scandal attached to the Robertson name, but not what it was. Her father in prison! This is not at all what I expected.
‘Shortly after our family arrived in Van Diemen’s Land, our farm failed,’ Elizabeth explains. ‘My father was unable to pay his debts and so spent some time in the debtors’ prison. He tried several other things after that, and eventually turned to journalism. He published his own news sheet, called the True Colonist. Unfortunately, my father is ever one to speak his mind and on one occasion he went too far. He was charged with libel and imprisoned. These experiences gave him, he says, an insight into the hellish lives of the prisoners. As a consequence, life is very different for the convicts here at Longridge, but, as you know, his methods have put him at odds with your father, Alice. And I fear the consequences if your father should interfere more than he has already with the way things are run here.’
I am silent as I reflect on how greatly my father is loathed, both by the convicts and also by men under his charge.
‘I have tried to talk to my father about his cruel treatment of the prisoners,’ I say at last. ‘But he will not listen. Nor, I am sure, will he heed what I have said on your father’s behalf. He seems convinced that he knows what is best for everyone.’
I hesitate, wondering if I should take Elizabeth into my confidence.
‘And you are right about Cormac,’ I confess. ‘We have managed to talk privately on a few occasions.’ I feel the blush creeping over my cheeks as I
recall the passionate kiss we shared. ‘But I see him as a musician, not a convict, Elizabeth. When he plays the violin, it is as if his music is singing directly to my soul.’
‘You have fallen under his spell, I see.’ Elizabeth’s expression is grave.
‘My mother has asked my father if Cormac might give me lessons.’ I clasp my hands together. ‘I used to play the violin in Van Diemen’s Land, and I miss making music so much.’
‘And, of course, it is the perfect opportunity to see more of Cormac.’
‘Of course. I have added my pleas to my mother’s. My father says it would be unseemly, but I shall change his mind. I must!’ I clench my hands into fists to emphasise my intention.
‘I am sorry we were unable to bring him to Longridge to play for us tonight. But perhaps it is just as well.’ Elizabeth puts her hand on my arm. ‘Alice, please be careful. Your father will become suspicious if you continue to pester him for music lessons. Please, for his sake if not for your own, do not pursue your relationship with Cormac. It can only lead to trouble. Forget about him. Forget about all the convicts, in fact, for you can do nothing to change their lot. Just enjoy the picnics and the dinner parties and the dancing and try to make the best of your time here.’
‘As you do, you mean?’
Elizabeth pulls a face. ‘It is different for you,’ she says.
I suspect she is thinking of her disease, and I feel great pity for her.
‘You should find yourself a safe young man to marry,’ Elizabeth continues, her tone wistful. ‘Leave this place. Raise children. Have a happy life.’
This time it is my turn to touch Elizabeth’s hand in the hope of bringing comfort. ‘Will you not stay for at least some time after dinner?’ I ask, wanting to ease her melancholy. ‘We don’t have to socialise with the gentlemen, or play cards. Let us sit here and talk instead.’
Elizabeth shakes her head with a rueful smile. ‘You do not know Mama,’ she says. ‘She wants me wed, and my sisters too. She will not rest until she sees us making cow eyes at a prospective husband.’ She draws a deep and laboured breath. ‘No, I am afraid you will have to manage without me, Alice.’
A Ring Through Time Page 14
