Summer at Mount Hope

by Rosalie Ham

  ‘We’ll take one rabbit this week,’ said Maude, ripping the envelope open.

  ‘I didn’t bother with them today,’ said Freckle, and his roan cob sniffed the petunias.

  Maude read the note, the powdery pink planes of her face falling in small stages. Her eyebrows creased into a small furry M at the top of her nose. Wordlessly, she handed the page to Phoeba.

  The note, written and signed by Guston Overton, stated that the ecclesiastical authorities had been telegraphed instructing the banns of marriage not be published and demanding that a marriage licence be sent by the Superintendent Registrar immediately. The vicar would formalise the union between Lilith Crupp and Marius at Overton the following Saturday.

  There it was, but Phoeba felt flat as a millpond. Lilith had what she wanted: marriage and Marius. But what of Overton? No verdict had passed around the district, no swaggies were headed north for its harvest and the outcrop was as still as a photograph. It was eerie, like the sea before a cyclone.

  ‘There’s no reply, Freckle,’ said Maude, regally, lifting her skirts and turning away with as much dignity as she could muster.

  ‘Would you like a drink, Freckle?’ asked Phoeba.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Cake?’

  ‘The cook at Overton gave me coffee and marzipan.’

  The horse sighed and shifted its weight; its saddle creaked.

  ‘We know you didn’t do anything wrong, Freckle.’

  ‘I dobbed.’

  ‘It was the right thing to do.’

  ‘Right for the rich squatter with his machines. Them other poor bastards didn’t deserve the life they got, I don’t reckon.’

  He took his hat off and held it over his heart. His red curls were squashed flat on top and looped out in a gutter big enough for birds to bathe in. ‘I only got food for them. And only because they made me.’

  ‘We believe you.’

  ‘Not everybody does.’ He put his hat back on. ‘So I think, missus, I have to go away.’

  ‘No, Freckle! Why?’

  ‘The itinerants, and the snake.’

  ‘Snake?’

  Freckle nodded. ‘A red-bellied black snake. Fell out of a mail-bag.’

  ‘I see,’ said Phoeba. ‘But the rain stopped the itinerants from lighting their fire.’

  ‘They know I dobbed. And I know they cleared out – but they could come back anytime and hang me.’

  ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘I got a job as an assistant guard. On the train,’ he said, glumly.

  ‘Life’s a funny thing, Freckle,’ said Phoeba, and watched the cob lower its head, rip Maude’s petunias from the ground and eat them.

  By the time Phoeba got to the kitchen, Maude had the sewing machine out and all Robert’s possessions were shoved under her bed again.

  ‘At last, I can change my surname from Crupp,’ said Lilith, humming as she moved about the house plumping cushions and straightening doilies.

  ‘I’d have liked a big wedding, but I suppose a marriage is a marriage,’ said Maude, spreading the contents of the trousseau on the floor.

  ‘We’ll put a notice in the Southern Sphere, in the “Social Chronicle” section,’ called Lilith.

  ‘Along with the Countess of Tankerville and the Governor,’ said Phoeba. It was convenient that Maude could ignore the circumstances of the betrothal.

  ‘Right, Phoeba,’ said Maude, rubbing her hands together. ‘We’ll go to Flynn’s and buy the ingredients for the cake.’

  ‘I’m more than happy to do that, Mother.’

  ‘And we must drive over and visit Mrs Titterton.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Phoeba. At least she would see Henrietta and Rudolph. And she would find out what was happening with the crop, with the Overtons.

  Maude wore her chocolate brown church dress, her best hat and her mother’s pearls. Lilith wore her knife-pleated skirt and matching neck scarf. She pinned Maude’s best bar brooch to her lapel and wore her most sumptuous hat. Spot behaved impeccably and as they passed through the majestic Overton gates and rounded the homestead, their proud mother sniffed. ‘You will be so happy here, Lilith.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Mother, don’t cry,’ said Lilith, impatiently. ‘Mrs Tit will think you’re afraid, or not up to it. And it’s not dignified.’

  ‘Engaged one day,’ said Phoeba, ‘and you’re setting standards and issuing instructions the next.’

  Lilith smiled.

  Overton homestead looked very quiet, almost deserted, as they drove past towards the manager’s house. Henrietta opened the door, her sleeves rolled up and her white apron stiff as paper.

  Her skirt underneath was crushed and stained where she’d dried her hands. She looked at Maude, at Lilith, dressed as if they were going to a coronation. ‘What’s happened?’

  Mrs Titterton called from the front parlour, ‘This is hardly the time to come and make amends—’

  ‘We’re not making amends,’ trilled Maude and pushed past Henrietta.

  Mrs Titterton crept slowly across the floor, strapped tight and extra gaseous. She seemed to be vaporising, day by day.

  Phoeba held Henrietta in the entrance hall. ‘Where’s Rudolph?’

  Henrietta pointed to a window in the far corner of the homestead. It was closed, the curtains drawn. ‘The cook says he’s gone to Melbourne.’

  ‘Will he be back?’

  Henrietta nodded. ‘He only took a kitbag. But the crop is ruined.’

  ‘Ruined?’

  ‘Shsss,’ said Henrietta, squeezing her shoulders gleefully together and smiling at the ceiling. ‘I might get to go home!’

  A wave of panic washed over Phoeba and she felt her cheeks smart. In the parlour Maude boomed triumphantly, ‘We’ve come to inform you that there is to be a wedding. Lilith is getting married.’

  ‘Who’s marrying you?’ said Mrs Titterton, confused.

  ‘Why, a vicar of course,’ said Lilith, haughtily.

  ‘No, you silly girl, who is to be your husband?’

  ‘She will be Mrs Marius Overton,’ said Maude, and looked to the homestead through the parlour window. ‘It’s wonderful for Phoeba; it increases her prospects considerably.’

  Phoeba’s mind was racing. She desperately wanted to talk to Marius, to Rudolph, to anyone who could tell her what was really going on.

  ‘We must get back,’ said Lilith, fingering her bar brooch. She’d had her moment, no point wasting any more time with the overseer’s wife.

  ‘We’ve another cake to make and ice,’ said Maude.

  Phoeba began, ‘But I wanted to—’

  ‘So much to do, Phoeba!’ snapped Lilith.

  That evening, Phoeba sat between her vines, listening to them rustle and sigh as they settled in the dusky air. She threw her head back and watched as silver-tipped clouds floated in the endless, azure space. Please, let her go to Overton. And let Rudolph save me.

  Tuesday, February 6, 1894

  Phoeba read about grape growing; she did her chores. She made her cheese on Tuesday instead of Thursday, had the ironing done before morning tea and then weeded her depleted vegetable patch and turned the soil for her winter vegetables. She was mucking out Spot’s stable and loading the wheelbarrow with manure when Lilith strolled past with Marius, heading for the outcrop, ‘Here comes your sweetheart, Phoeba.’

  Her heart skipped a beat and she let the pitchfork fall, but it was only Hadley driving up the lane. On the wagon behind him was his single-blade plough. He had come to turn their fallow, as he did every year.

  He tied the mare under the peppercorns next to Marius’s horse and came wearily across the yard, carrying a homely bunch of geraniums and dahlias.

  ‘Hadley,’ she said, feeling a pang of guilt and sorrow. She had made him feel so forlorn. ‘It’s lovely to see you.’

  He nodded, glumly, and reached for the handrail.

  ‘You needn’t have brought your plough, Had,’ said Lilith, gaily. ‘Marius will turn our fallow. He
has a three-blade.’

  Hadley’s progress up the steps faltered, just a little, but he continued on.

  ‘Congratulations,’ he said, handing her the flowers.

  Lilith kissed his cheek and said, ‘Had, you’re a dear. You’ll come, won’t you?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Phoeba, thinking she’d prefer to have Lilith’s wedding day with Rudolph. ‘I don’t think the Overtons want—’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Lilith. ‘Hadley’s my oldest friend too. And anyway, we won’t all fit in the sulky.’ She hummed her way down the hall in search of a vase.

  ‘You’ve heard nothing about Overton?’ asked Phoeba.

  ‘No. I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Nothing at all?’

  ‘No, Phoeba. I have been busy,’ he repeated pointedly.

  ‘I think Marius is marrying Lilith to get our vines because Overton is ruined,’ she blurted, hoping Hadley would say it wasn’t true.

  ‘I think the wool will fetch enough to keep Steel content,’ said Hadley, reassuringly. She chose to believe him – for the time being.

  He settled carefully on the wicker couch and said, ‘I know that I’ve lost you, Phoeba. I know that your heart belongs to Steel and I accept that you don’t want to marry without your notion of love.’ He pushed his spectacles a little further up his nose. ‘Your aunt seemed very happy, at least, and it’s wonderful that Marius is going to do the right thing. They’ll have each other … companionship.’

  She sat next to him then and took his hand in hers. ‘You’re very alone at Elm Grove, I know, but I have to stay now, Hadley, I’ll have to help Dad.’ He took his hand back. ‘Now, Had, my oldest friend. You’re a fine man – and an excellent sheep expert – and you need to marry someone who’ll support you – someone who wants to breed sheep.’

  Hadley nodded at his lap. ‘I suppose I must say now that at least we still have each other, Phoeba, that we have always wanted each other to be happy, and that we will still care for each other, no matter what.’

  ‘No matter what,’ she said, and meant it. She did love him so much, and probably would stand in front of a moving train for him.

  He pushed a seed around his hat brim with his finger, her rejection of him swelling in the silence. She knew she was meant to say she was sorry but she wasn’t. She was sure that she wanted to stay here, at Mount Hope, on the farm.

  Abruptly, he stood to leave, reaching for the veranda post and swaying a little, as if the hurt had made him weak. Phoeba wanted to run to her bed and weep or scream with rage and frustration. It was all so tense. Please just let Lilith get married and go, she thought urgently. Let there be some sort of progress, some relationship for me and Rudolph. Let Hadley continue to be my dearest friend. Let things go back to the way they were just a few short weeks ago.

  ‘Hadley, I’m sorry, I don’t want to hurt you.’ He stopped. ‘Please stay for tea with us, please. Marius is here.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said, and she could see him push his unhappiness aside. He sat down next to her again and said proudly, ‘I have been busy. I’ve applied for jobs. I’ve even been to Geelong for an interview with a chap called Mr Williams.’

  ‘Hadley! Have you?’ She was surprised, even a little shocked that he had been to Geelong and back without her knowing.

  He looked at his hat on his knee. ‘I may get some sort of position, but manager is what I want. It’s ambitious, I know.’

  ‘Now all we need is to see Henrietta right,’ said Phoeba. ‘I think she’s lonely at Overton.’

  ‘She is not alone there,’ he said, and Phoeba sighed.

  ‘Come and help me set the table,’ she said, standing up and offering him her hand.

  Inside, they found Lilith had set the table and she was sitting Marius at the head – in Robert’s spot. Robert arrived and pointed out the error and Marius went to the other end of the table, right near the heat of the stove.

  Maude, feeling worse than ever before, staggered around the room dumping bread, butter and jam on the table and then shoved a plate of cold meat into the centre upsetting the saltcellar. Her face was red and greying wisps matted her damp hairline. Her eyes were puffy. She lowered herself onto her chair and said, weakly, ‘Forgive my appearance.’ A new son-in-law might be a new son-in-law but she felt wretched.

  Phoeba sliced bread and Lilith served a salad. It was only the third time Lilith had ever made a salad.

  ‘Tell us about your new job, Hadley,’ said Phoeba.

  Lilith laid a napkin across Marius’s lap.

  ‘I haven’t got it, Phoeba! I’ve only applied.’

  Marius put down his knife and fork. ‘I may be able to help.’

  ‘It’s a manager’s job,’ said Phoeba. ‘The property is up past the Murray …’

  ‘The drought,’ said Marius, ‘difficult to get staff.’

  ‘At least he’s not in the welfare lines,’ said Phoeba.

  ‘They’re very long,’ said Hadley, shaking his head. ‘I saw women and children sleeping on the street in Geelong.’

  ‘You’ll see wonderful landscape up on the Murray,’ said Marius.

  ‘We hope Phoeba will see it,’ interrupted Lilith. ‘We’re all busting for Hadley to propose again.’

  ‘Not all of us!’ yelled Robert and throwing his napkin at her so it stuck to her curls and hid her face. She threw it back at him.

  ‘It’s wrong for a woman to move away from her family even in this day and age of rapid transport,’ said Maude, coming to life. ‘Women and children perish out there alone. You can’t tell me it isn’t the same as murder, taking a girl into the bush and making her fend with dozens of children while her husband falls off his horse in some distant valley and dies, or she gets abducted by timber-getters or blacks while he’s off shearing.’ She glared at Robert. ‘No responsible man in his right mind would take a woman to live in the bush!’

  They were silent. The only sound was Robert chewing. Lilith ate her salad, Marius sawed at his tomato and Hadley lifted the pepper mill and looked at the bottom of it.

  ‘It does sound very pretty up around the Murray,’ said Phoeba, to break the silence, but the comment set Maude off again.

  ‘That it may be, but all that means is the dangers are harder to see!’

  They were silent again.

  Maude suddenly excused herself and crept back to her dark, quiet room.

  Robert shifted his salad about with his knife, as if he was searching for rat dirt. ‘For the life of me I cannot fathom women. I am extremely vexed by the lot of them.’ He looked at Lilith. ‘This salad has pips in it.’

  ‘Almonds,’ she said, ‘they’re new.’

  ‘New?’ said Phoeba.

  ‘Your wife, sir, is losing a daughter,’ said Hadley philosophically.

  ‘That’s not it,’ said Lilith buttering another slice of bread. ‘She’s going through the change.’

  Marius nodded, but looked puzzled. Hadley wasn’t sure exactly what it meant either but he’d heard men at the sheds talk about women going to asylums for a time.

  ‘So,’ said Phoeba, ‘tell us Marius, is your crop ruined? Are you broke?

  ‘Not that I know of,’ he laughed.

  ‘What will you do if you are?’

  ‘Phoeba,’ said Robert sternly. ‘You are being very intrusive.’

  ‘It would be very crowded if you came here,’ said Phoeba.

  ‘I don’t think,’ said Hadley gently, ‘that this is the time or the place.’

  ‘And,’ continued Phoeba, ‘you wouldn’t like taking direction from me, a woman.’

  ‘He won’t,’ said Lilith, and the corner of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

  February 7, 8, 9, 1894

  Lilith and Maude happily checked the contents of Lilith’s trousseau against the ‘Approaching Marriage’ article in the Southern Sphere. They packed fine white cotton drawstring bloomers, collarettes, nuns’ veiling nighties, suspender straps, corsets and silk flowers, garters, ribbons, a selection of
lace handkerchiefs and far too many petticoats. Together they altered Lilith’s best frock, then trimmed her hat and covered her shoes with the discarded material. Lilith was threading her shoes with ribbon when Phoeba asked her again if Overton was in financial strife.

  ‘You can’t ruin this for me, Phoeba. It’s impossible. I’m too happy.’

  ‘The rain must have ruined the crop, Lilith, and they were in dire straights before Rudolph bailed them out.’

  ‘Marius has said nothing to me.’

  ‘Well, he wouldn’t,’ said Phoeba. ‘Why would you tell the woman you were about to marry, after only three or four short months of widowhood, that you were broke and wanted to live at her house and work for her father?’

  Lilith paused, letting the ribbons slip onto the floor and curl beside the ottoman. She gazed out through the heavy drapes as if there was a miracle outside. She smiled. ‘But if they do lose their property to the bank then we will go to Melbourne. And I will live in Toorak!’

  Maude carried in a plum cake encased in smooth white icing and set it on a huge silver tray in the middle of the dining table. ‘There were no almonds left,’ she said, standing back to admire it. ‘Mrs Titterton may have a machine for washing clothes, but I think I will have grandchildren before her.’

  ‘I think you will too,’ said Phoeba, remembering Lilith had risen in the night and leaned from the bedroom window to retch, and her usual afternoon nap had stretched from half an hour to almost two.

  Robert polished the sulky and harness and then found Lilith.

  ‘Give us a trim, Lil?’

  He sat on the back porch with a tablecloth around his shoulders while Lilith trimmed his receding hair, his eyebrows and the spikes jutting from his round, dark nostrils. As she snipped the last fine fronds curling on his sagging ear lobes Robert said, ‘If you find the mansion too draughty and don’t feel useful, Lil, you can always come back home to your kerosene lamps,’ he said, reaching around to pat her hand.

  ‘I can be very useful if it suits me,’ she said, removing the tablecloth and shaking the hair from it. ‘And I will continue to cut your hair for years, until there is none left.’