Captive Wife, The

by Kidman, Fiona

  Humpty Dumpty sat on a hill

  Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

  And all the king’s horses

  And all the king’s men

  Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

  But why, David asked me, why couldn’t they put him together again, and I could tell that he was crying in the dark. Would he never get better?

  I don’t know, I said, perhaps he will some day.

  I’ll never sit on a hill, he said.

  Sometimes we have no choice, I told him. We have to do the hardest thing.

  I have done the hardest thing.

  When he said that I felt as if my heart was breaking. He seemed much younger in his years than me, or our little sister Sophia, who though she stole quietly about the place when Deaves was in, could cast aside her silence and be as merry as any children in the street.

  Tell me the one about the little nut tree, he whispered. And so I said it for him, for it was gentler by far, the one that begins:

  I had a little nut tree, nothing would it bear

  But a silver nutmeg and a golden pear.

  So then he said I would like a nut tree, and I could tell by the sigh in his voice that he did not think he would ever have one.

  I will look after you David, I said. If I have a real regret in my life so far, it is that I didn’t keep David by my side when Jacky came for me. But I don’t think I had a choice. Like the children going to the orphanage, some things are decided before you have had much say. My mother thought she had chosen her own way, because she had broken away from her mother, and had more than one man. But it is hard to tell if it was what she chose, or whether it was just her way of saying that she wouldn’t be told by others what to do. My grandmother had chosen constancy, so far as I could tell, or had done after she was married to my grandfather. I have sought to be like Granny, whatever people say of me.

  In the springtime, that year that I lived in the Deaves household, blue wrens nested in a bush beneath the window of the room where David and Sophia and I slept. Sophia did not wake until late, but in the mornings, when the sun was rising, David and I would look out the window and watch the mother wren rising and preparing to feed her young. She flitted hither and yon, like a blue dart, her feathers shining in the new morning light.

  But I didn’t look after David. I left it too late.

  Chapter 15

  JOURNAL OF JOHN GUARD

  At sea, Sydney to Te Awaiti, 1828

  The next time I was in Sydney, I asked Charlotte to let Betsy come over for a visit.

  Sydney Town is changing all the time. I am just one of many whalers who come and go. Last time I was in port there were 70 sailing ships, half of them whalers. There is talk that money coming in here can be measured in millions not thousands of pounds though who is counting I do not know for I was told when a boy that in order to count to a million a man wd have to count day and night for 5 yrs of his life without stopping to sleep. There is foreigners everywhere, you cannot understand a word they say, they come from France and Spain and Italy not to mention America and men with pigtails from China land. There is a library and a museum and streetlights placed at 50 yds apart that look like old London at night. It is very smart. But then too there are wild dogs roaming the streets not to mention whooping cough and smallpox going the rounds. What with 1 thing and another and the girl growing up so fast, too fast, the time was on me to make a move. I was in a panic as if I were coming down with a fever of my own.

  I think Charlotte knew what was up for when Betsy and I sat down in front of the fire she said well, I will leave you 2 to have a talk and she shoos her boys out too.

  I took Betsy on my knee. She did not seem surprised. Close up I saw tiny veins in the lids of her eyes. Those lids are like the shells of tiny birds. I thought about the first time I had placed my hand on her head and though she has grown big and sturdy and has some cheek there is also something about her that I am afraid of breaking.

  Soon Betsy I tell her it will be time for you to come away with me. She sat still but again did not appear surprised. We will have a wedding. At this she nodded.

  Well then if that is decided I said I must tell you some duties for a wife that perhaps you have not learnt at school. The first is for obedience. That should not be hard for I will not ask more of you than I should. Besides it is a lawful command that wives render obedience to their husband in the Lord. In the good book St Peter says likewise — ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands. The first task I give you is to work hard at arithmetic for I will want you to count my money and keep my ledger books. When I take you with me I expect you to be good at that.

  Next a wife must be faithful to the bed. Not that I think you will be tempted. There are rough sailors in New Zealand who have become landlubbers and work on the whaling station. They live with native women as their wives. They drink much rum. I am not a man given to too much drink. I drink a tot at the end of a hard day’s work but you will not see me in my cups. Then there are natives who are called Maoris and they wd not be a temptation to a girl.

  At that Betsy laughed, which is music to my ears. I wd not lie down with a black fella she said, as if it was a great joke.

  The third I said, Betsy, is that you will owe me love. This is wrote big in my book that you will give me this whatever happens whether in health or sickness, wealth or poverty. You owe me comfort and support. Round this place I see women who are harsh and sullen towards their husbands, as your mother was to your father. They are a burden and a plague but you are not like them. I like your cheerful nature. I saw how you looked after your grandmother when she was alive. I think you are a girl with love. With love will come babies. I thought perhaps I wd not have a son but now I have decided it is not too late. Put your hand here Betsy. That is my red hot poker that I keep for you. I see that you know what I am about. I pull her closer so that she is sitting right on the mountain I am making beneath her. I put my hand carefully on her little box and I feel it all aquiver.

  I said Betsy I wd sore like to put this poker where it belongs but we will wait until we have left Charlotte behind us. I will not do this now though it is not easy to wait. It is good that you are not afraid. We will do this thing and make a son between us.

  Then I groaned in the pit of her shoulder. I have never wanted any woman like I want this girl who will be my wife. I hold on to her until the heaving stops. It is all right, I said, it is all right, there is nothing wrong with me that a good lie down in a bed together will not fix. It is how a man is when his poker is on fire. I took her hand in mine and put my mouth to each little finger tip.

  You old dog she said and laughed and pulled her hand away. I looked at her face and I could not read what was there, something dark and a mystery for me. I am not your Uncle Jacky any more.

  She gave a little undecided laugh. Jacky she said.

  I will come for you soon I told her then. I cannot wait for you much longer.

  Now I go to make all ready for her arrival.

  Chapter 16

  Hettie delivers a tray to the dining room where Adie Malcolm sits alone. On the tray is a small mutton pie and three slices of bread still with their crusts on. Hettie is a sallow woman with the hint of a moustache and heavy brows. Her eyes give the impression of looking over the shoulders of the person to whom she is speaking.

  ‘Did you enjoy your day out, Hettie?’ Adie asks.

  ‘Until it came on to rain, Miss,’ replies Hettie, ‘then I came back and stayed in my room and put my feet up.’

  ‘But the rain cleared at lunchtime, before the children went out,’ Adie exclaims. She has been happy all day and now she feels menace in the air.

  ‘So it did now.’ Hettie closes the door behind her, and it seems only moments later that Lieutenant Roddick’s footfall lands in the hallway. When he enters the dining room, his face is dark with anger, though Adie does not see this right away.

  ‘Lieutenant, we were not expecting you,’ she says. ‘I am
sure that cook can find something in the larder.’ She pushes her plate away from her, as if to share her meal.

  ‘I have told you, I do not want that woman near the house.’

  ‘Mrs Guard?’ The words hanging in the air like a noose.

  ‘I thought that was clear.’

  ‘Lieutenant, you don’t understand,’ she begins, and falls silent, as she absorbs the full extent of his rage. Suddenly, she is very hungry. Her stomach has had its first whiff of mutton and is groaning for more. She presses her hands over her stomach to contain its rumbling.

  ‘You don’t want to her to come here. Yes, I see.’

  ‘Who cares what they do, they are riff-raff from the Rocks. But not in my house, I will not have the likes of them here. There is gossip about her condition.’

  ‘Her condition?’ cries Adie. ‘I have seen her this afternoon.’

  ‘I do know that.’

  ‘And so I am reduced to eating bread and water, Lieutenant? Let me remind you, I am an adult, not a child to be punished.’ Her hands, pressed into her stomach, are white-knuckled. ‘Mrs Guard is not about to have a baby. Or certainly not one that has been hiding itself since the time of her rescue. That is nearly five months ago.’

  Roddick’s look grows darker still. ‘How would you know? A woman can hide such things.’

  ‘I am sorry, but you are mistaken,’ she says.

  The nearness of him is overwhelming, his smell ripe and musky, like leather and whisky on the breath.

  ‘So she told you more this afternoon of her sojourn in New Zealand?’

  ‘No,’ she says, in a low voice. The room feels cold.

  ‘The mistress of evasion.’ She hears his contempt, but this is such an apt description of the conversations Adie has had with Betty Guard that she can only shrug her shoulders in reluctant assent.

  ‘You must never let her come here again. If she does, I will have you removed.’

  ‘Removed? You cannot mean that.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ says Roddick, walking towards the door. He casts her a look of pity and dismissal. ‘Your brother has said he will take you in.’

  Chapter 17

  Adie

  Adie Malcolm picks her way through the streets of the Rocks district, seeing the houses hewn from brown-gold rock, solid-looking dwellings though the walls are knobbly and irregular, the closely cropped roofs made of hardwood shingles. In the back yards grow small gardens, filled wall to wall with vegetables, among the remnants of native shrubs and trees. Here and there, dandelions and clover spill through the cracks on the street, their seeds imported with peas and beans, radishes and turnips. All of it suggests disorder. And yet, Adie thinks, there must be a pattern to it, for she finds herself more quickly than she had expected at Cambridge Street.

  She is on foot and alone. She wears a hat with a vestige of a veil, though it does not cover her face for that would draw more attention than she desires. At the end of the street she hesitates, still composing in her head what she will say to Betty Guard.

  Then she sees a large group of men and women walk from one of the houses. The group is headed by a man with squat shoulders and a thick neck, yet he has an air about him — a presence, she will say to herself afterwards. For at first she does not recognise John Guard, so altered is he since their last meeting. There is something sombre about the tread of these people. Miss Malcolm looks for an awning or a verandah to draw behind but, finding none, she stands with her hands folded. The group moves towards her, and in the midst of them she sees the figure of Betty Guard, shrouded, like all the women, in black mourning garb. Her collar is drawn up around her throat, and a black hat is drawn over her left eye, so that it takes the governess a few moments to recognise her. Her face, or that which is exposed, is very pale in the harsh sunlight, her lips set. Two youths come out of the house carrying a diminutive coffin between them.

  Betty

  I stop in front of Adie Malcolm. I want to spit in her meddlesome ugly old face. I want to tell her to get out of here and go to hell. I cannot understand what she is saying to me, she is babbling away about not wishing to see me again. Well, the feeling is mutual. Feeling? I am numb and do not feel much, it takes me all my time to put one foot in front of the other. I am sorry about what happened to your brother, she raves, standing in front of me and barring my way.

  My brother. I don’t know what she is talking about. What do you know of my brother? But that is unfair, for I have spoken more of him to her than anyone else. That is why I do not shove her away, send her flying across the cobbles.

  As I stand in silence, I see Jacky turning with his eyes full of yellow fire. I say, in a quiet manner, That is behind me now, Miss. This is what is happening now. That coffin that you see carried by my half-brothers is Louisa’s coffin. That is the body of my daughter, Louisa.

  Jacky

  My wife was not there when our daughter died. It was late in the afternoon and I could see the child was sinking. I took her in my arms beside the fire and I rocked her and I sing to her. I sing ‘lavender’s blue diddle diddle, lavender’s green’ and just for a moment I see something I had not seen in a long time, which is the face of my mother who I think is gone forever, but here she is and here is her voice in my ear and her look in my daughter’s face. I seen a shadow of the woman she might have grown into, one I might have looked at and said to Betsy that was my mother’s eyes. But that will never be for now the baby’s eyes was closing. I did not think they wd open again. And where is my wife? She stays away and stays away. I have heard she is hanging out with the nobs but I do not ask her. What good will they do the likes of her and me. I have lost everything, 2 ships at sea, and there is nothing left but what is in this house.

  Perhaps it is not her to blame. I cannot bring myself to touch the woman now. When she asks me what is wrong, I says you know what is wrong. She says, I bring your babies safely home to you. That was the best I could do for you.

  When she comes in, I says, now is you satisfied? You have been and left your baby and now she is dead.

  She gives me a look that could pierce my heart if I let it. She says I knew she would die. I could not bear to see.

  She has stayed rock silent, 24 hrs now. She has not slept nor moved nor made any cry. Her mother and her aunt come and dress the little one in her christening gown that was made for her last year and it fit her still. Then they take Betty and push her arms inside her mourning dress and she lets them do it. They place jet-black beads around her neck and on her breast they place the mourning brooch her grandmother wore when old Pugh died. Inside of it is a lock of hair. I do not know whose hair it is now, it is a brooch that does much service.

  The next thing I know there is a woman standing in the middle of the street stopping my wife in her path. I remember this woman from long ago, the fat daft old teacher I sent Betsy to, to learn her sums. I have seen her before and not let on that I knew who she was. Why should I? Betty wd have been better off if they had never set eyes on each other. She put ideas in her head that she did not need. She looks like a mad woman as if she has been out in the sun too long. She is waving her hands and beating them on her breast and I see Betty clench her fists. I think she is going to hit the teacher but she stands there in the street and the snot comes out of her nose and spills and her mouth is stretched back in a terrible way and I hear her howl as a wild dog might do.

  I move to pull her back inside, for by now there is a crowd gathered from out of ev’ry house. I take her elbow, and she pulls herself away.

  Do not touch me.

  She puts her arms up to fend me off and knocks her hat off in the street. She covers her face with her fists but does not stop this noise of an animal that makes me want to put her down. If I had a musket in my hand I wd do her that kindness.

  You better go missus, I say to the school teacher. You better get out of here. I see she does not recognise me in all the crying and shouting that is going on. As she turns to leave, I see a redcoat standing at the end of the
street, looking at her. I can tell she does not need me to make any more trouble than she has already got. I know the redcoat. His name is Roddick, the one who drinks and did not come to New Zealand with his brothers-in-arms.

  The teacher walks away from my wife who is quieter now she has had her yell. Her shoulders droop, her arms hang at her sides. The redcoat walks towards the teacher. Another time I might have stopped to watch but I do not.

  I pick up my baby girl’s coffin myself and walk down the street not looking to see who will follow me.

  Part 4

  A True Love of Mine

  Chapter 18

  JOURNAL OF JOHN GUARD

  Te Awaiti, 1829

  As I was taking a wife to Te Awaiti I laid in good stores so that we could go for a long stay and not lack in comfort. Before the journey I brought aboard:

  57 bags of salt

  45 casks of flour

  14 casks pork

  23 casks sugar

  6 ½ chests tea

  1 bag of pepper

  1 bag of canvas

  2 puncheons of rum

  2 cases of gin

  6 baskets of tobacco.

  In all the rush to get everything on board there was no time for me to wed Betsy. I could tell she was disappointed but she is a good girl and said naught. By this time she knew the duties of love a wife must show for her husband. I took her to the ship the night before we sailed and showed her what was what. She tried hard not to cry. It came as a surprise to her even though she had flirted and carried on. Well there is no way a woman can know what it is like until it’s done. But she was a snug fit down there and I told her she was a good girl. I think she is all right about it now. I cannot get enough of her.

  When we got to Te Awaiti, Ngai Tahu the Maori tribe to the south had burned down our huts, up to their tricks again. So we dropped anchor off shore the first several nights and I kept Betsy on board while we ran up some more huts. Our houses are built out of supplejack plastered with clay and the roofs thatched with reeds. When our new home was watertight I took the girl ashore and we set up house. I must learn to say wife. Perhaps we will find a minister to put a seal on it. Not that there are any round here. There are missionaries in the north but they are not men to my liking. My men give me sidelong looks. I know they are thinking May (or perhaps April) and December. I have taken to calling her Mrs Guard when they are near.