Beyond the Blue Mountains

by Jean Plaidy

“I am, am I not!” He laughed.

  “My experiences have taught me how to be clever. And do you know, my darlings, it has taught me something else the astonishing fact that honesty is the best policy.”

  “Oh, Marcus! How glad I am!” cried Esther.

  “Everything that happened to you is worth while if it has brought you to that way of thinking.”

  Marcus smiled and caressed Esther’s hand.

  “Sweet Esther!” he murmured.

  “How right you are! From now on… when I get to Tom, that is … I shall be perfectly honest. Why not? There are opportunities in a land like this; do you not sense it? Do you not feel it? Here there is a certain equality among men, which was missing in England. Once I can throw off the convict’s taint I will be an honourable man. This is God’s country… His own country, for it is a country made for men to be free and happy in. Here the sunshine is more beautiful than at home. I see a great country here … not yet, but later. On the other side of the mountains I can feel there is grass for millions of sheep, and not to be stored in barns for winter either, but growing here under the sky all the year round.”

  Jin, the gipsy, watched him with wide eyes and parted lips. She would have run away with him there and then, had he asked her. Poll listened, plucking at her apron; she did not understand what he said, but it was pleasant to hear him talk, and when his roving eyes fell on her, there was a tenderness in them that she had not had from anyone else in the whole of her life not from haughty Carolan who had made a doll for her, nor from the man who had so briefly been her lover.

  Carolan was aware of the effect he had on them all. Marcus, philanderer and thief, the most charming man in the world! All the time he talked, his fingers were on her arm, pressing lightly, urgently. His eyes told her he loved her, and behind this talk of grass and sheep was the picture of their home together on some station not far from Sydney. He conjured up in her mind complete pictures of their riding together, of their living together.

  She wanted Marcus, and she thought that everything that had gone before was worth while when set against that picture of them on the station together.

  “You planned it!” she said.

  “You were planning it all the way out!”

  “Tom used to come to see me in Newgate,” he answered.

  “We worked it out.”

  “He sent the money for the privileges you enjoyed!” said Carolan.

  “Who else? And it was my money, darling.”

  “It will be your money he brings out.”

  He touched her cheek tenderly.

  “It will buy us a place in the sun, in the sunniest country in the world, my darling.”

  “When will you go to Tom?”

  “We have to go cautiously.”

  “You will manage it, Marcus. You are so clever.”

  “I shall certainly manage it. And when I am with Tom we shall need some young women about the house. Tom and I were never ones for the pots and pans!”

  “Marcus! Marcus!”

  Esther said shyly: “Oh, Marcus!”

  “One word in your ear,” put in Margery.

  “What about Mr. Masterman?”

  “What about him?” said Carolan lightly, reminded of him suddenly, and hating and fearing him scarcely at all.

  “He is a power in the city. Do you think you can pull wool over his eyes?”

  “I have heard of this Masterman,” said Marcus.

  “A beast!” said Carolan vehemently.

  “A coldblooded beast!”

  “I would rather have you in a house with a coldblooded beast than a hot-blooded one!” He turned to Margery: “You think he will not let these two go?”

  “I’m sure he would not. He is all against the sort of thing you think of doing, young man. And let me tell you this he has quite a lot to say as to the way things are run in this town.”

  “He would be “All for Justice”!” cried Carolan.

  “He would hate it if anyone did not pay the full pound of flesh.”

  “Do not forget he is the master!” said Margery.

  “Master!” cried Carolan.

  “Master!”

  Marcus gripped her hands tightly.

  “We must wait of course. I talk impetuously. I lose my head because I am so glad to see you again.”

  “Marcus,” said Carolan, ‘you have not been too unhappy then since we arrived?”

  “My unhappiness has been in not seeing you.”

  “I am so glad. Those triangles! I wish I need never see another as long as I live!”

  “There shall be none on our station.”

  “Our station!”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Ours. Yours and mine and Esther’s… and shall we remove the whole of Mr. Masterman’s kitchen staff to work for us?”

  From under his lashes he threw glances at them all; he saw, and Carolan saw too, the quivering excitement of them. He had been incautious. This was the way to ensure their secrecy; they would not babble of his affairs if they thought of sharing in his adventure. Whether he meant what he said, she did not know. Could one ever be sure that Marcus meant what he said ? He was clever. Clever, clever Marcus! And she did not care whether he meant what he said or not. She only cared that he was back with her again.

  He stood up suddenly.

  “There calls my Clementine! It would never do to keep her waiting. Au revoir! Remember I shall see you again soon.”

  He kissed Carolan, then Esther. Then with an audacity which completely won her heart, he kissed Margery. He bowed to Jin; he bowed to Poll. Then he leaped through the window. He stood for a half second, smiling through the frame of the window at them. Then he was gone.

  There was silence in the kitchen. They heard a voice say: “Where did you get to? I was a long time, I know; I certainly did not intend to stay so long.”

  Then they heard his voice, but they did not hear what he said. I They listened to the sound of buggy wheels.

  “Well, come on!” said Margery.

  “We ain’t got all day. Jin, wake up, girl! Now then Poll! Good gracious me! We can’t waste half the morning entertaining visitors and the other half standing about like great big gabies!”

  When it was time to serve the meal, Margery came over to Carolan.

  “She sent for me.”

  “She?”

  “The mistress.”

  “Oh?” Carolan was only half attending; her thoughts were with Marcus.

  “She says she wants you to wait at table. She likes the look of you better than Jin. You’d better look sharp, lovey. Tidy yer halt a bit, and nip out to the pump.”

  Carolan let the cold water trickle over her hands. A strange day. She felt that there was change in the air; anything might happen. Marcus might come riding over and take her away. It was a day when dreams might come true.

  Margery called to her.

  “Here. What are you doing out there? Does it take all day to wash your hands? Come here … quick!”

  In the kitchen they were preparing a tray.

  “She’s took suddenly queer,” explained Margery.

  “It’ll be a tray took up to her room, she wants. The master ain’t home; he’s riding over to one of his stations. Here Jin! Get on, girl, get on! Unless you’d like the feel of the whip across that smug face of yours. Is that plate hot? Then get it hot, and sharp about it.”

  “He’s away!” said Carolan.

  “How long will he stay?”

  “The questions! How am I to know? D’ye think he shares his little secrets with me? All I know is that when he rides over to the stations it’s often enough he don’t come back for days and nights at a stretch. Got that sauce, Poll? Why, if it was any other man I’d say there might be something more than his stations that was keeping him … but with him … Well, he’s only half a man, if you was to ask me. Come on, Jin, girl… Ain’t that plate hot yet?”

  Carolan’s eyes were sparkling. He was away on business. It might be day
s and nights before he returned, and he had evidently not said a word about her escapade of the night before. It was truly a day when exciting things could not help happening.

  She carried the tray upstairs and tapped at Mrs. Masterman’s door.

  “Come in,” said the weary voice.

  She was lying on the bed.

  “It’s one of my headaches,” she said.

  “They come on so suddenly. I think I’ll have my pills before I eat. What is it you’ve brought? Oh! I cannot eat a thing, that I know!”

  Carolan felt intoxicated with success. She felt, as she often did in the presence of Marcus, that she had stolen some of his verve for living, for finding life amusing. She felt sly, able to plan for herself.

  “You must try to eat, M’am!”

  She began to understand the sickly creature on the bed. Her ailments were her life; the table beside the bed was full of remedies. She locked her door to keep out that brute, that coldblooded brute. Surely he did not need much keeping out? They were only half alive, these two. Oh, Marcus! Marcus! she thought, and she could feel his lips on her skin, warm and eager, “But I cannot. I do try. If you only knew how I feel.”

  “I can guess, M’am.”

  “There isn’t much sympathy I get here. What is your name?”

  “Carolan Haredon.”

  “You speak like a lady.”

  “I was supposed to be one once.”

  “Yours must be a very interesting story…”

  But Carolan did not plunge into an account of it, because she saw clearly that Lucille Masterman did not want to hear it, but only to talk about herself.

  “It’s a frightful story,” she said, and added artfully: “But in one thing I have been fortunate, I have had good health.”

  Lucille raised herself on her elbow.

  “It is not often that people who have are wise enough to realize what a boon it is.”

  Carolan smiled and forced compassion into her eyes.

  “Please, M’am, could you not try to eat a little?”

  “I will try then…”

  She took the tray. Carolan picked up a bed jacket and wrapped it round her shoulders.

  “You may take further cold, M’am.”

  “I do take cold very easily. No! Do not go. Stay a while. You may sit down and talk to me while I eat. But first give me my pills … A little water to wash them down; it is there, in the jug-‘ “You must suffer very much, M’am, to need so many remedies.”

  “Indeed I do! I do not like that gipsy; she frightens me. She creeps about so: she is like some soft-footed animal. The other girl, Poll, is such a frightful creature; I could not beat her near me. You and the other new girl are much nicer types. But my husband has always said that you convicts should not be allowed to roam about the house at large until you have been with us a little time. How long have you been with us now?”

  “Six weeks.”

  “It is a very short time, but you do not look vicious.”

  “You would not believe me if I told you I was wrongfully accused?”

  “Will you pack up my pillows a bit? I have a terrible backache. That is much better. These pills are so hard to swallow. Where did you live in England?”

  “In the country near Exeter, and then in London.”

  “London! Do not talk to me of it, for the homesickness is more than I can bear. I feel that I cannot endure this dreadful country much longer. The heat is so appalling. Tell me what they were doing at the playhouses when you were there. Tell me what the shops looked like. How I would love to ride around the town in my carriage, seeing it all, smelling it all! Do you not feel the longing to go back?,” “No.” said Carolan.

  “When I think of London I think of horrible things. I was not very happy I think in the country.”

  “You speak very nicely. I shall certainly have you to wait at table. Everyone will be envious; they have such trouble with their servants. You are sympathetic too; you shall look after my clothes and give me my medicine.”

  Thank you,” said Carolan.

  “Thank you very much. It is very good of you.”

  “I have taken a fancy to you. That gipsy girl never speaks at all. She grunts, and she is so sullen. I have told my husband that I am terrified of her; her eyes flash so. But he laughs that to scorn; he is a most unimaginative man. He has never had a day’s illness in his life, and he does not understand what it means to be ill.”

  “People who are healthy are so often like that, M’am.”

  “I shall tell Margery of the change. You can send her up to me at once. Take this tray down … why, I have eaten everything! Those pills are truly wonderful, and what I should do without dear Doctor Martin I do not know. Tell Margery to come up at once.”

  Carolan went slowly down the stairs. Had she ever been as happy as this, even in the days of freedom?

  Margery was locking backwards and forwards in her chair. She had thrown her apron over her face to hide the tears of laughter which for the life of her she could not stop flooding her eyes. It was the funniest thing she had heard for a long time. Should she tell the girl? She was not sure whether she wanted to or not.

  What a change there had been in her in the last week! Her beauty had been veiled before, and now it was as though she had thrown aside the veil. There she was, radiant. A lovely, healthy girl. Reckless as they made ‘em. The dead spit of what Margery had been at her age. In love if anyone ever was. Every time they heard the sound of carriage wheels, her head would jerk up, her eyes glisten, and Margery would see her heart beat faster under the yellow frock. Now that her skin glowed with the regular application of soap and water, the yellow suited her, brought out that red in her hair, that green in her eyes. Her body had filled out a little. She was ripe for the plucking. And what a plucking it would be! But what if she whispered what she had heard?

  The girl was doing well upstairs. The mistress had taken a fancy to her. Carolan had asked if she could use the bath water after her mistress had done with it, and strangely enough permission had been given readily. A queer request, Margery had thought, but the mistress did not seem to think so. She had said that, when Carolan worked in the kitchen, she was not to be given the dirty jobs because she hated to see dirty hands serving her guests. The master had come home. Now for trouble, thought Margery; he was not one to see his laws flouted. But, queer enough, nothing happened. He probably hated the sight of the dark-skinned gipsy at his table as much as his wife did. For the first time since Margery’s entry into the Masterman establishment rules were going by the board. There was excitement in the air, and if there was one thing Margery liked almost as much as a bit of romance it was excitement. She hated to be outside the play too; she liked a prominent place on the stage.

  This was the funniest thing she had heard for a long time. The rogue. she thought. The lovely, clever rogue. If I were twenty years younger, or even ten, I would be mad for him. And I’d tear his eyes out for this, which she will, I’ll be bound. And when he puts his face in at that window and looks all round my kitchen for her and sees her, she’ll spring at him like a tigress. I wouldn’t miss it for a sack of gold I But she was not sure. Would she rather see her run to him, soft and loving, wanting him? Or would she rather see her fly at him in her rage? Margery was not sure. Let him have her first, and let her find out afterwards. Serve her right! Such mighty airs Miss Carolan had been giving herself since doing so well with the mistress.

  Margery pulled down her apron and composed her features, for Carolan had entered the kitchen. Carolan sat at the table; she was singing to herself.

  In Scarlet town where I was born, There was a fair maid dwelling__ Queer emotions fought each other in Margery’s mind. Admiration and jealousy were uppermost. Wonderful to be young and beautiful, desirable and desirous. A little she-devil, this Carolan, and a temper ready to flare up at a moment’s notice. Now the other one, Esther, with that shining fair hair of hers like a halo, reminded Margery of a saint in a holy picture. She wan
ted no truck with saints. Why was she, Margery, not young and beautiful like Carolan? What a time she would have, James? Awkward little man… no fire in him! He just knew what to do and that was about all.

  Carolan was looking at her hands; they were small and beautifully shaped, it was now possible to see. She sat there, admiring them. The nails were beginning to lose that raggedness, and what had been a rim of immovable black was now light grey.

  “Well,” said Margery, ‘you look as if you’ve lost a penny and found a sovereign.”

  “Mr. Masterman came in while I was putting her, clothes away.”

  “Oh, he did, did he!”

  Was it possible? Why not? Even half a man could surely not be blind to all that budding loveliness. When she opened her mouth and showed those sharp white teeth, she seemed to promise all sorts of things if a man could get round her to give them.

  “I am sure he hates the thought of my being there.”

  “Indeed, Miss, and why should he?”

  “Just because he’s a stickler for rules, and he hates to have his broken.”

  “And why shouldn’t he hate to have them broken? What are rules for if they are to be broken?”

  “Stupid rules should be broken.” Carolan threw back her head and laughed.

  “How I despise that man!” She thought of his standing there, eyeing her coldly, the dress over her head. He would doubtless think she had merited some punishment, but he had said nothing, and she was sure it was because he could not bring himself to tell his wife that he had seen her almost naked. Squeamish! Cold as ice.

  Now Margery was suddenly angry. Envy had stifled her admiration. Mr. Masterman might in her opinion be only half a man, but she respected him as she had never respected anyone else in her life. He was the master and a good master. She would have no disrespect shown towards him in her kitchen!

  Ah, Miss Carolan, so sure of yourself, eh! she thought. Now you’re in for a mighty big shock. Perhaps you will not sneer at a man of honour so easily in future. Perhaps you will wish that your gay Marcus was a little more like the master.

  “You’ll be seeing your lover very soon now, me lady, I’ll be bound!”

  Carolan stood up.

  “You have seen him?”