Fortune's Son

by Jennifer Scoullar

  The little girl ran in, clutching her favourite panda toy. She leapt onto Belle’s lap, tipping her backwards onto the bed.

  ‘Mind your mother, Miss Clara.’

  ‘It’s all right, Sarah,’ said Belle, her tone kinder now. ‘I’m just having a little lie down.’ She shut her eyes.

  Clara burst out giggling and shook her. ‘Mama . . . wake up. Wake up! You shouldn’t be in bed. You should be dressed, it’s lunchtime.’

  Belle opened her eyes and shushed her daughter with a finger to her lips. ‘I can’t get up,’ she whispered. ‘The baby’s asleep.’

  Clara’s eyes widened and she put her ear to Belle’s stomach. ‘I can hear it snoring.’

  It was Belle’s turn to laugh. She pulled Clara in for a hug, breathing in her sweet smell, finger-combing her shiny chestnut hair. It was getting so long, long enough to plait.

  Clara began jumping on the bed. ‘I’m all packed, Mama.’

  Packed? Of course. Clara was off to Binburra after lunch.

  ‘Knock, knock?’ Edward pushed in the door. ‘Can we join you or is this party just for girls?’ Robbie followed him into the room – a handsome, fair-haired boy, with Luke’s melting brown eyes. He clutched a tin soldier in his hand.

  Clara squealed with delight. ‘Papa.’ She bounced off the bed into her father’s arms.

  ‘How are my two best girls doing?’ Edward kissed Clara and then his wife.

  Belle called her son onto the bed, but he stayed by his father. ‘Robbie, Clara is going to Grandma’s house. How about we spend this afternoon together? Just the two of us? We can do whatever you —’

  ‘Robbie’s coming with me to the sheep sales today,’ said Edward. ‘We’re going to buy some new rams, aren’t we, son?’

  Belle glared at her husband, but he didn’t seem to notice. ‘Maybe Robbie doesn’t want to go look at a lot of smelly sheep,’ she said. ‘Maybe he’d rather spend some time with his mother.’

  ‘Smelly sheep? We’re talking about top stud rams. They’ll have been primped and preened within an inch of their lives. I probably smell worse than they do.’

  Clara burst into giggles. Even Robbie managed a smile.

  Belle couldn’t see the funny side. ‘Come here, Robbie.’ He jammed his hands into his pockets. Belle went over and knelt down awkwardly beside him on the carpet.

  ‘Careful,’ said Edward.

  Belle waved his concern away. ‘Robbie, darling, stay with me. We’ll have lots of fun.’

  His father put an affectionate hand on the little boy’s shoulder. ‘You’re spoilt for choice today, son. What will it be?’

  Robbie slipped his hand into Edward’s. ‘Papa’s buying me my own ram.’

  That was cheating. Why couldn’t she have Robbie for one bloody afternoon? It was ridiculous, the way her husband monopolised him. To think she’d been worried he might not accept another man’s son.

  ‘All right, Robbie,’ said Belle as Edward helped her to her feet. ‘I’ll come to the sales too. You can tell me all about those rams.’

  Robbie’s face lit up. ‘We’re buying Saxon Merinos, Mama. They grow extra fine, soft wool.’ He stepped out from behind Edward and went to his mother. She reached out and stroked his hair. ‘Papa wants some Lincoln and Southdown ewes too.’

  ‘Does he?’ said Belle, well-pleased with the compromise she’d proposed. ‘That’s settled then.’

  Edward frowned. ‘What would people think of me dragging my pregnant wife around a muddy sales ground?’

  ‘Who gives a hoot what people think?’

  ‘Sorry, Belle, I’m afraid I can’t allow it.’

  ‘You can’t allow it?’ Her voice rose a notch. Robbie edged away from his mother. ‘Since when do I need your permission?’ Eddie had never spoken to her in such a way before.

  ‘That came out all wrong.’ Edward’s tone softened to one of careful contrition. ‘What I meant was that I’m not comfortable jolting you about on those rough roads. It’s up to you, of course, but with only a few weeks to go I wish you’d stay home and rest.’

  A wave of weariness washed over her. She was tired. Tired of being pregnant. Tired of living in this stuffy house. Tired of her lingering grief at Luke’s death. She started to cry, quietly at first, then in great, heaving sobs.

  Robbie bolted from the room. Clara’s face creased with concern. She rushed to Belle and wrapped chubby arms around her as far as they would reach. ‘Please don’t cry, Mama. It makes me sad.’

  Edward guided Belle over to the bed and gently sat her down. Then he kissed his daughter. ‘It makes me sad too, honey. What can we do to cheer Mama up?’

  ‘I know.’ The little girl put Panda in Belle’s lap. Clara adored that toy, despite it being threadbare and with stuffing coming out. Nobody could ever prise it away for long enough to mend it. ‘You keep Panda while I’m at Grandma’s,’ she said solemnly. ‘So you won’t be lonely.’

  Belle’s tears subsided. She and Edward exchanged proud glances. What a special, loving, generous daughter they were blessed with.

  ‘That’s a lovely idea, Clara, but I think you’d better take her with you. Panda might find it hard to sleep without you.’

  Clara hugged Panda tight, clearly relieved that her mother had not taken up the offer.

  Edward took Belle’s hand. ‘See how very loved you are?’

  ‘Why don’t you two get on with things and let me rest. Ask Sarah to get my novel from the parlour. The Jungle Book, on the table by the window. And tell her not to lose my place.’

  ‘I’ll get it for you myself,’ said Edward as the dogs began barking. ‘That will be Grandpa wanting his princess. Kiss Mama goodbye.’ He hoisted Clara onto his shoulders and they left the room, smiling and blowing kisses.

  At least they were happy. Belle herself remained on the edge of tears. She padded to the window and watched her father climb down from the seat of the brougham. Her favourite carriage had been repainted a lovely claret colour, and she didn’t recognise the in-hand pair of matched bays drawing it. With a wrench, she realised Papa must have bought them without consulting her. There was a time, not so long ago, when he wouldn’t have dreamed of doing such a thing. Buying horses had always been a family affair. Belle loved the excitement of visiting stables, trialling new teams, comparing and researching pedigrees. Loved having the final say, as she invariably did.

  Not any more. Papa loaded Clara’s case, and then Clara herself into the elegant little coach. His princess. They looked up at her window and waved. Belle’s heart lurched with loneliness – and something more, something shameful. Envy. Envy of her own daughter. What was wrong with her?

  She hadn’t paid much attention when her mother said marriage wasn’t enough. When she said a woman needed to fill her life with something more meaningful than domesticity. That’s why Mama had started the school at the mining camp. How often, as a girl, had Belle teased her? ‘You want to appear charitable, Mama. That is your goal.’ Since Belle had started her own family, she’d regretted those unkind words. Where would the poor of Hills End be without that school? It had grown from half-a-dozen children in an old miner’s cottage to over fifty pupils in a building designed for the purpose.

  Well-loved by the townsfolk, the school not only offered an affordable education, but also held evening classes for women on subjects such as childbirth, health and hygiene. Belle was no longer a carefree, thoughtless girl. She understood the importance of these things. Perhaps, when the baby was born, she would volunteer there. It would please Mama and be an escape from the tedium of Canterbury Downs.

  The matched pair took off for Binburra at a spanking trot. Eddie’s phaeton swung into the driveway and drew to a halt at the front door. He emerged from under the bluestone verandah. Robbie followed close behind him, clutching a small leather case, which contained the sheep stud books. They climbed in and drove away.

  Belle arched her aching spine. Another empty afternoon stretched before her. What was the point of even getti
ng dressed? She climbed under the covers, eager to dive into her Indian jungle adventure. Belle made herself comfortable, and looked across at the bedside table. Eddie had forgotten to bring up her book.

  CHAPTER 45

  Settlement day. The Superior Mine had officially changed hands. Luke and Tau drew their horses to a halt on high ground overlooking the deserted diggings. Spread out before them lay a rambling open-cut quarry of ten acres or more. The sides had been dug out first, and the excavation had taken on the shape of a vast wheel, with tall blocks of standing ground in the middle and piles of tailings round the edge. A ramshackle collection of yards, sheds and huts ran along the river on the eastern flank. A dozen draught horses, their ribs protruding, hung their heads over rails, and a few half-starved bullocks crowded together in the spindly shade of some thorn trees.

  Luke clapped his companion on the back. ‘Lead on, Tau. I want the full tour.’

  When Luke cheated Herman Smit out of his mine, he’d never intended to operate it. He’d meant to shut it down, free the workers from their labour contracts and send them on their way. However, when he arrived at the bank to execute the agreement, Eli had delivered some unwelcome news.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go through with this? Buying the mine will leave you perilously short of funds, Colonel. Even if I undervalue it, as of course I will . . .’

  ‘Do you speak as my banker or my friend?’

  ‘As both.’

  Luke had stared at him, blankly. For years he’d been living off old Clarry’s fortune, careless of how he spent it. Travelling where he wanted, buying what he wanted. Sending his mother and sister generous monthly allowances. To a poor boy like him, it had seemed an inexhaustible amount. Yet, here was Eli saying he was running out of money.

  ‘How much is left?’

  ‘Enough to live comfortably for a year or so.’

  ‘No more than that?’

  ‘Not without an additional source of revenue. You’ve purchased a great many farms recently, but none will give a quick return. Can you call on family money? Or perhaps you have investments I’m unaware of?’

  Luke shook his head. He had no investments. Not growing up with money meant never learning how to manage it. Putting it in the bank had been the extent of his financial plan. Still, a year was plenty of time. He could work a couple of his farms instead of turning them back to bush. Generate an income that way.

  ‘If you’re determined to go ahead, why not operate the mine?’ said Eli. ‘It’s foolish to close it down. Now Smit’s hit blue ground, it has potential.’

  Luke turned the idea over in his mind. Playing safe and turning farmer wouldn’t complete the humiliation of Herman Smit. Finding diamonds would.

  ‘Execute the deed, Eli,’ he’d said at last. ‘Looks like I’m in the mining business.’

  ‘I’ve learned a bit about goldmines in my time,’ said Luke as Tau showed him round the open cut. ‘But I haven’t a clue about all this. I bloody well hope you do.’

  ‘What would I know?’ said Tau. ‘Hauling rocks all day like a donkey.’

  Yet for a donkey he seemed surprisingly knowledgeable.

  ‘Why are the diggings shaped like a circle?’ asked Luke.

  ‘We dig out the sides first, because hauling is easiest from the edges.’

  ‘What’s this blue ground people talk about?’

  Tau took him to the edge of an eighty-foot pit. ‘See how the earth changes colour down there?’ Luke peered over the cliff. The reef walls consisted of streaky yellow shale, but at the base the rocks turned a bluish-black. ‘That dark rock is blue ground. Holds the best diamonds, but it’s hard as iron.’

  ‘So . . .?’

  Tau grinned and threw his arms wide. ‘Kaboom! We need dynamite. Baas Smit is an idiot. Sends us to dig out solid rock with picks and shovels, then rages and beats us when we can’t.’

  Since the cave collapse that killed Bear, dynamite scared the hell out of Luke. Here, it would be an everyday tool of trade. He gazed out over the ruined landscape of craters and cliffs and mullock heaps. He intended to discover all there was to know about diamonds. He intended to turn this rundown, unproductive mine into a profitable business, but he would not spend his days in the noise and dust and heat. He’d had his fill of pits and explosions. What he needed was a manager he could trust, someone to run the mine while he established the game reserves.

  ‘Tau,’ he said. ‘I have a proposition for you.’

  Luke checked the provisions in his saddlebags one last time, then tightened Caesar’s girth. ‘Choose two good men as your foremen,’ said Luke. ‘Buy new bullocks and horses, and turn out the old ones while I’m away.’

  ‘The storehouse is empty,’ said Tau.

  ‘And whose fault is that?’ Luke grinned. ‘Go into town and stock up. No stinting on quality, I want my workers well fed. You’re authorised to put things on my account.’ He turned to Sizani, who was stroking Caesar’s soft nose. ‘Go with him. Make sure he’s not robbed.’ Sizani and Tau exchanged broad smiles. They were sweet on each other and looked for any excuse to be together.

  Luke hadn’t owned the mine for long, but things were moving quickly. He’d already renegotiated the workers’ labour contracts and offered to re-employ them. Without exception, they’d signed on. Full board and thirty shillings a week was six times what Smit had been paying them – or, more to the point, not paying them.

  Tau had a reasonable working knowledge of the mine, and had thrown himself into the manager’s role with enthusiasm. Sizani was also proving useful, organising accounts, supplies and pay. So much so that she had little time for the house. ‘Find someone to take over your duties,’ Luke told her. ‘You’re worth more in the office.’

  Leaving Tau in charge, Luke was heading off for a few weeks on a mission to learn all he could about modernising the mine. He thought back to the massive steam pumps and stamper rams of the Hills End mine. Henry Abbott might have been a monster, but he was a shrewd businessman. He’d understood the value of mechanisation. There must be a better way than picks and shovels and bullock carts.

  Luke had spent the last few weeks identifying problems. The collapse of reef walls was a constant threat, and excavations were haphazard. Dirt was piled on adjacent ground for sorting, obstructing the digging of productive land. Diamond-bearing soil was carted out for washing in wagons: twelve-hundred-weight loads drawn by six oxen, and as many drivers and assistants. Getting those wagons from the bottom of the mine to the top was a nightmare, especially when it rained.

  On his travels, Luke had made many friends, some of whom owed him favours. One such friend worked as a supervisor at the famous De Beers diamond mine at Kimberley in the Northern Cape Province. Luke planned to visit him and learn all he could.

  Luke clasped Tau’s hand, then mounted Caesar. ‘Keep things running, brother. I’ll be back.’

  CHAPTER 46

  Belle waited until after dinner, after the three children had gone to bed. After Eddie had finished his first glass of cognac in front of the fire and poured himself a second.

  She studied him while he read the paper and sipped his drink. A handsome man, the picture of sartorial elegance, though that moustache made him look older than he was. Forehead high and straight. Sandy hair cut short these days. She preferred it when it was longer, long enough to move in a breeze. And those steel blue eyes. Eddie couldn’t help it, of course, it was just . . . every year there was more of his father about him. She rubbed the goosebumps from her arms.

  He glanced up from his reading and caught her watching him. His eyes crinkled with warmth, and the resemblance to Henry vanished. Eddie patted the Chesterfield couch beside him. She joined him, the cold leather chilling her legs through her dress.

  ‘Can we talk, Eddie. Anne is two years old now, and I’ve made a decision. I’m going to help Mama teach children at the mine school.’

  Edward put down his drink and took his time rolling a cigarette. Belle shifted in her seat. She hated
the suspense, the feeling that she was waiting for permission.

  ‘Will you delay a while longer?’ he said at last. ‘Our sweet baby girl is still so young. Surely your place is here, with us. With your own children.’

  Belle pressed her lips together.

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ he said.

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Tell me then, Eddie, how should I be?’ She sprang to her feet, prepared for an argument. ‘It’s different for you. You actually do things. I can’t drop a handkerchief without some servant rushing to pick it up for me. Robbie and Clara are busy all day with tutors and governesses. You don’t approve of me going with Papa into the mountains any more. Grace is married and moved to Hobart . . .’

  He stood up and took her hands in his. ‘Belle, sweetheart, I understand, I do. The girl I fell in love with wasn’t one to sit around.’ His smile, one of infinite affection, disarmed her. ‘I propose a compromise.’ She watched him, wary yet curious. ‘Remember how you loved to draw when we first met? I shall build a studio in the garden, and engage an art teacher – the best I can find. Would that amuse you until Anne is a little older?’

  Belle was after a lot more than amusement. She was after fulfilment. But Eddie was right about one thing: she had loved to draw, and the idea of studying art intrigued her. A favourite childhood memory was sitting with Luke and her father, painting animals and birds. Later, when she moved to Binburra, it was landscapes that had captivated her. The mountains and forest casting their spell, colours transforming, making her see with different eyes.

  Leaves weren’t green any more. They were apple and olive and mistletoe. Sage-green, sea-green and the green of sprouting wheat. Willow-green, pine-green and the green of alpine moss. Shadows were no longer grey or black. They were cobalt and indigo and midnight blue. Charcoal, iron-grey, driftwood-brown and every shade in between.

  ‘Well?’ His hand brushed her hair. ‘What do you say?’

  She was touched he’d remembered her old passion for painting. It helped close the space between them. ‘I would love my own studio.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘But I do intend to teach, sooner or later.’