The Lace Balcony

by Johanna Nicholls

  Her eyes were repeatedly drawn to the large welcoming bed where she had slept alone until that extraordinary night of revelation, when she and Mungo had fought bitterly and then seduced each other, entering a new dimension of time and lovemaking that was like no other experience – her lover like no other man she had ever known.

  Memories seemed to swim in the tears that sprang from her eyes, equally sweet and painful, because tonight she faced risking everything she had gained, on the fateful turn of a card – a gamble, a trick, a debt that she must offer to pay in full if she was ever to shed her old life. And above all, cease to be the cause of enmity between two rival brothers. She was surprised to discover the truth.

  I love them both – in different ways. But Mungo was never mine, I was never his. It was simply a beautiful illusion I will treasure all my life.

  • • •

  When the clock chimed for the seventh time, Vianna descended the ladder. All was quiet in Jane’s cottage, as no doubt Mungo had escorted Toby and Jane to the bonfire on the common. She went to Boadicea in the stables, gently stroking her glistening ebony coat, the blaze on her nose, whispering private phrases she reserved for the mare’s ears alone, their special language. Boadicea was her closest link to Mungo.

  ‘You understand me, don’t you, girl? I used to think nothing of hurting a man’s vanity. But that was another life. Mungo and Felix are different – they don’t deserve it. I don’t want to hurt them, but I must – to survive. Please forgive me.’

  By the instinctive way Boadicea nuzzled into her neck, Vianna knew the horse understood far more than her master ever would. With a sigh from the heart she closed the side door to the stables and unlocked the iron gate. Narrow as Little Rockingham Street was, it surged with throngs of people headed in the direction of the common. Men, women and rowdy children were armed with grog, fireworks and pine boxes for burning, their arms linked in affection or to prop up a drunken partner.

  Despite their high spirits, their amiable swearing and jostling, the sight made Vianna shiver, as she had as a child when ‘a goose walked over her grave’.

  She was startled by a sense of foreboding. The night ahead of her was not going to play out as she had planned.

  The air was already heavy-laden with smoke from fires all over Sydney Town, carried by a breeze that threatened to grow into a wild, untamed wind, a fire hazard. Rockets punctured the starry night sky for a few bright moments before falling in a plume of shooting stars like a fleur-de-lys.

  She looked down both ends of the lane, trying to pinpoint the element that cast an invisible, ominous shadow over the jubilant crowd.

  And then she saw him. Felix. Riding towards her from the northern township end of the street, Felix was being careful to cover his tracks. To avoid publicly linking his family name to my notoriety.

  Vianna smiled at the irony of her growing reputation in the neighbourhood. She had heard one slatternly woman describe her as ‘that yellow-haired wench above the stables – a bolter, if ever there was one.’

  Felix doffed his hat to her as he rode past her to the livery stables. Vianna barely acknowledged his gesture with a discreet nod.

  ‘How wonderful to escape the outside world,’ Felix said as he followed her up the ladder, his hands gently possessive as he held her waist to safeguard her ascent.

  She offered him a drink. How ironic to see him drinking the Manx whisky that Jane had given her for Mungo’s use.

  But this is no time to worry about the niceties.

  She allowed him to kiss her cheek but evaded his mouth by seating him on the worn padded sofa opposite her.

  Being alone with her, at her express invitation, had clearly boosted Felix’s confidence. Vianna eyed him dispassionately. Although close to Mungo in height and build and in her eyes, almost as handsome, Felix projected a very different aura. Mungo’s energy filled every room he entered. And here, he was at ease, master of the place. Felix seemed to accept these surroundings under sufferance, as if he could not wait to remove her to the luxurious world he had created for her at Mookaboola.

  ‘Your letter today was at last more like a love letter – no longer concealing your feelings. When I read your words, “I must be alone with you tonight” I wanted to set those words to music. Well, here I am. Your wish is my command.’

  He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it, unwilling to release it, until she withdrew it on the pretext of offering him a bowl of hothouse strawberries.

  ‘Felix, I asked you here to discuss what is important to both of us – the future. But first I must explain something that you have a right to know.’

  ‘You may talk all night long,’ he said with an involuntary glance at the bed, ‘but it will change nothing of my feelings for you. And before you speak, I want to give you a gift.’

  Vianna held up her hands to stop him. ‘Please don’t, Felix. I need to keep my head clear, say no more than I mean and no less. I value our friendship and I never want to lose your good opinion of me – despite my chequered history.’

  ‘Enough, Vianna.’ He smiled despite his impatience. ‘Your letter stated your willingness to honour the contract we signed and so –’

  ‘There are certain conditions,’ she said then seeing his expression falter, added in haste, ‘No! I don’t mean financial ones. You were very generous.’

  ‘In that case before we banish the legalities of that contract by never speaking of it again, I want you accept this from me.’

  He withdrew a small box from his pocket and opened it, keen to have her approval. She gasped at the beauty of the very large ruby ringed with an oval of diamonds, secured in a bed of black velvet.

  ‘Our betrothal ring,’ he said smiling. ‘Indian. I know how you love stories. There is a legend attached to this ring. A young Maharajah had it designed by a master craftsman for a beautiful but poor peasant girl whom he wished to marry. The jeweller did his finest work in creating the ring, despite the fact that he too was in love with the girl.’

  Hooked by the story, Vianna found herself asking, ‘Who did she marry, the Maharajah – or the jeweller?’

  ‘Unfortunately all three died in a cholera epidemic.’ Felix gave an apologetic laugh. ‘How clumsy of me. I should have invented a romantic happy ending for you. But I trust the ring pleases you. It will honour me for you to wear it – but not of course until we reach Mookaboola.’

  ‘A ring. How beautiful. How tragic,’ she said in a hollow voice. ‘But this is the last thing I ever expected, Felix. I can’t find the words –’

  ‘The only word necessary is “Yes”,’ he said and took her in his arms, kissing her mouth with a passion that took her by surprise.

  Vianna did not struggle, but neither did she attempt to increase his ardour. She sank back on the sofa, closing the lid of the box with trembling hands.

  I cannot reject him or accept him before I have played my final card. I must draw on everything Severin taught me about how to handle gentlemen – and men. And the two don’t always belong to the same species.

  ‘Felix, I realise that this ring implies a clandestine engagement, which of course is understandable, but –’

  ‘Merely a temporary, albeit necessary, measure, until such time as I establish myself as financially independent of my father’s estate. My mother must never know, until the time is right. I may choose to take you west to the Swan River Colony, or to Van Diemen’s Land, New Zealand, or the future colony of South Australia – somewhere no one will know us.’

  ‘Some man will always recognise me, Felix. There is no way for me to remain anonymous in a population as small as this. You must accept the fact. Any hope of retaining your place in society would be a false dream.’

  ‘Don’t you understand, Vianna? Everything has changed – I have changed. I love you. Love you. Beyond words, beyond the need for Society’s approval.’

  ‘And what of your mother’s disapproval?’

  Felix sighed. ‘I will face that when needs must. Please,
don’t spoil our happiness. This is the night I have dreamed of since the first time I set eyes on you.’

  Vianna rose and began to walk in tight circles, fighting to remain calm.

  ‘Felix this ring – your honourable proposal of marriage, changes everything. I feel I have been thrown off kilter. I wrote to you to discuss our contract and my willingness to honour it – but now you have introduced a new dimension. And I simply cannot find the right words to fit the situation.’

  ‘Words will change nothing – my decision is written in stone.’

  Vianna held up her hands to cut him off. ‘Please, allow me to say what I intended to say – before you gave me this beautiful Maharajah’s love token.’

  She stalled for time to collect her thoughts, refilling his glass and drinking her own to sustain her fast diminishing courage. I don’t want to hurt him. But I must cut through his romantic fantasy before I get carried away with it myself.

  ‘Felix, you are such a true gentleman you seem determined to overlook my sordid role in the liaison planned by Severin. Please face the truth. I agreed to that contract with eyes wide open – for my own reasons. That contract still holds. Severin accepted your money in advance for your full rights to my body for a year –’

  Felix gasped and rose to his feet, as much distressed as angry. ‘Vianna, I forbid you to talk like that about the past.’

  ‘The recent past, Felix. You must accept the whole truth and nothing but the truth if there is to be a future relationship. Many gentlemen of Quality were involved in Severin’s game, his “auction” of me to the highest bidder. I had certain rights of refusal. I truly liked and admired you, but if there had been a higher offer than yours I would have accepted it.’

  Shock was reflected in his eyes and Vianna hated herself for her cruelty. She placed her hands on his shoulders, coaxing him to sit down.

  ‘Our contract would have proceeded as a matter of course. But everything changed when Severin House was closed.’

  ‘By Mungo, damn his hide! An act of revenge because he was ineligible to compete for you.’

  ‘Ineligible only because he didn’t have the L’Estrange fortune behind him – as you did.’

  Felix stiffened in anger to be reminded of his undue advantage.

  Vianna pressed on. ‘When Severin absconded with your money – I had no means to repay you. I was left with two choices. To break our contract – and morally be an accessory in his theft. Or else to honour it. The truth is, Felix, I have been living a lie for years, fooling myself I was a courtesan to hide what I had become. Bait to attract gamblers to Severin House.’

  ‘You certainly succeeded, m’dear,’ he said coolly.

  Vianna forced herself to demolish the final vestige of her false pride.

  ‘I saw myself as an entertainer. I loved singing, but my voice was never that strong. In the end I was no more than a naked body on show. No one in the Colony will ever let you forget that, Felix, no matter how many rings you place on my finger.’

  ‘We’ll sail to America, start again,’ he said desperately.

  ‘Felix, if I loved a man I would go through hell and high water for him. I do love you dearly – there’s no man in the world I admire more than you. But there is one insurmountable problem. It is Mungo I love – as a lover.’

  When he turned his head to conceal his pain, Vianna felt sickened by the words she had chosen to wound him.

  Stepmother said the Bible claims the truth will set us free. I suspect for me it’s just the opposite.

  Felix’s eyes were shadowed by grief. Yet she saw in his face a raw determination she did not know he possessed.

  ‘I don’t care. In time when we are alone, far from Mungo, I shall make you love me.’

  Vianna slumped in the chair, her hands trembling as she gripped the ring box. She had only two remaining cards to play. Equally true, equally painful.

  ‘I have it on good authority. There is no hope I can ever give you children.’

  A frown of surprise was followed by a dismissive wave of his hand.

  ‘That’s of no importance to me. All I ask of you is to honour our contract. In time I will marry you. You have my word as a gentleman.’

  How many times has Severin said those words. They cover a history of lies as long as the human race. Now I must play my final card. God help me, let it be the Ace.

  ‘Very well, Felix. Whatever else I am, I am no thief. That is the sole reason I shall honour our contract. But I shall never marry you. And whenever you take me to bed – as is your legal right, never forget one thing. I will do every exotic thing you want. I’ll be as passionate or as passive as you desire. But every time you kiss me, every time you take my body, you will know that I will be seeing Mungo’s face. I shall use your body to make love to Mungo!’

  For a long moment Felix looked ready to kill her – or was it his brother?

  She leaned forward and prompted him. ‘Are you willing to accept my terms?’

  Felix’s voice was cold. ‘I don’t think I ever truly knew you until this moment, Vianna. But yes, I accept. We leave for Mookaboola tomorrow. I shall arrange for a carriage to take you to the wharf tomorrow morning ahead of me. We must travel separately, of course, to avoid servants’ gossip reaching Mother.’

  Vianna gave a sigh of defeat. My final card was nothing more than the Joker.

  He rose and gestured to the archway. ‘Meanwhile, your bed awaits us.’

  ‘No, Felix! Not here! I can’t.’

  There was no mistaking Felix’s intention. By the way his mouth tightened in a hard line, she realised he had deliberately tricked the truth from her.

  ‘Never let it be said, Vianna, that I stooped to bedding a woman in my bastard half-brother’s bed. So, until we meet again tomorrow night.’

  He took one step towards her, pushed her against the wall and held her face roughly, his hands entwined in her hair to hold her captive. His kiss was angry, hungry and bit into her lips. Was the pain he caused intentional? To arouse her – or punish her? Whatever the cause, Vianna refused to acknowledge the pain.

  ‘As you wish. Until tomorrow night, Felix.’

  It was then that they heard a woman’s voice crying out from the street below.

  ‘Help me!’

  Jane’s voice! Vianna stumbled down the rungs of the ladder. Close on her heels, Felix pushed past her to the street outside to form a protective shield against whatever lay ahead.

  Jane stood in the lane, an expression of horror distorting her features, her hair streaming wildly down one side of her head, the neckline of her bodice torn open. A curious crowd ogled her. Shaking violently she pointed to the figure disappearing on horseback around the corner.

  ‘I couldn’t stop the brute! God help me, I tried – he threw me into the gutter.’

  Vianna followed the direction of her eyes. The stable doors were wide open. The broken padlock hung on the latch. The stables were empty.

  Even as Vianna cried out wildly in denial, she knew the truth.

  Severin’s ultimate revenge on Mungo – and me. Blewitt hasn’t just stolen Boadicea – he’ll destroy her.

  Chapter 43

  As night fell a ring of fires encircled the Surry Hills. The common was alive with six bonfires, built in a circle as if for some pagan ritual. Their wild yellow and red flames danced, forming shadows that distorted the faces of the crowd clustered around each burning pyre.

  To Mungo many of these faces seemed to have leapt straight out of Augustus Earle’s sketches of colonial convicts and old lags that the artist portrayed as a race somewhere between human beings and heavy-jawed Neanderthals.

  Mungo was half-amused, half-wary of the fact that milling around them was a high proportion of once-and-future criminals, thieves, pickpockets and no doubt the occasional murderer. But who am I to talk?

  The gentry were conspicuously absent. This down-at-heel mob was either drunk on grog or a rare taste of freedom and exhilarated by the flames of the bonfires. Despit
e the boisterous drinking and dancing, Mungo sensed an underlying tension that made him uneasy. He hoisted Toby up onto his shoulders, not only to give the lad a clear view of the spectacle, but to keep him safe from drunks and bullies. Severin’s tactics were never far from his mind. Any bloke who lays a hand on Toby will be dead meat.

  ‘Hey, Toby! Look at those rockets. Have you ever seen such a sight?’

  ‘It’s like magic!’ Toby said in awe. But a moment later he asked anxiously, ‘Can rockets hurt birds flying in the sky?’

  ‘Not a chance. Australian birds are too fast and clever to get in their way.’

  Toby’s excited squeals and his tight clasp of Mungo’s head told him all he really needed to know about the boy. There were odd times when he thought he caught a flash of Toby’s resemblance to Kentigern, once even a faint likeness to Mrs Less. I don’t give a damn whether the kid’s father is Felix, me or some other bloke Maria was seeing. Toby’s my mate. He can stick with me as long as he’s happy. I may not be the best father figure in the world, but I’m better than nothing.

  Whether or not they were linked by blood, one way or the other, Mungo realised he shared a bond with the kid that he did with no other L’Estrange. We’re both native born Currency Lads.

  Looking at the crowd around him he admitted that wasn’t always a recommendation. If these are the founding fathers of a new nation, heaven help Australia. Half of them are drunk, unwashed, and a few would sell their grandmothers for a bottle of rum. But I should talk. I’m only being abstemious tonight to set Toby a good example.

  His reverie was broken by Toby’s anxious question. ‘Is that a dead man?’

  Toby pointed to the urchins carrying a man’s body in a macabre funeral procession. The limp white calico effigy wore a ragged blue uniform and its painted moon-face looked suspiciously like Governor Darling.

  How the hell do I explain an effigy to a kid pushing six?

  ‘Don’t worry mate, that isn’t a real man. It’s stuffed with straw like a scarecrow. My Mam used to make them for Guy Fawkes bonfires for Felix and me as kids.’