Fortune's Son

by Jennifer Scoullar

  Becky’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘You still love him?’

  Emily pulled a chair close and stroked Belle’s hair. ‘Why don’t you tell us all about it.’

  With a sob, the dam burst. Belle poured her heart out to these people who had no connection with her life back in Hobart. Free to tell them everything, with no recriminations, no repercussions. Things she’d bottled up for years. Things she couldn’t tell Grace or even her own mother. She talked of her crushing loneliness. Of Eddie, and the burnt paintings and the terrible rumours. Of Robbie, and his traumatic birth and how it had made him different from other children. Of her stubborn, impossible love for Luke.

  ‘Luke is Robbie’s father?’ said Emily. ‘That explains a lot. You married Edward under sufferance.’

  ‘You don’t understand. Eddie wasn’t like this at the start. We were friends; he was kind. I was grateful.’

  ‘My dear girl, gratitude is no basis for marriage.’ Emily looked up at the roof, with a small huff. ‘It’s completely unfair. Pregnant girls are forced to marry or be ruined, though the fathers face no such diabolical choice. An innocent girl like Becky was brutally attacked, yet she’s the one who was blamed and shamed and lost her job. Meanwhile Henry Abbott, who it seems was a serial rapist, got off scot-free.’

  ‘Not in the end.’ Becky smiled in satisfaction. ‘Luke killed Henry.’

  ‘No, not Luke,’ said Belle. ‘His dog. There’s a difference.’

  ‘You’re splitting hairs. What if the dog hadn’t done the deed?’ Becky’s steady gaze dared Belle to think it through. ‘Luke would have killed Henry to protect you.’

  Belle shivered, recalling his words at the end, words burned into her brain. ‘I’m like Bear. Not truly civilised.’

  ‘Goodness.’ Emily raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m liking the sound of this Luke. No wonder Belle is still madly in love with him.’

  ‘Well, of course she is,’ said Alice. ‘Why wouldn’t she be? Luke is simply the finest, most generous, most wonderful man in the world.’

  Is. Belle fiddled with her hair as the old, familiar pain closed in. It hurt to hear Alice speak of her son in the present tense, like he might walk into the room at any moment.

  Becky frowned. It must have upset her as well. ‘Mama, can I see you in the parlour, please?’

  Becky and Alice left the room.

  ‘How does your painting go?’ asked Emily. ‘My most talented student ever. No, really.’

  ‘I don’t paint much now.’ Belle lowered her eyes. ‘Edward makes it difficult.’

  It was true. She couldn’t paint a simple landscape without him imagining some connection to Luke. In Hobart it had been easier to give up her art than bear her husband’s simmering jealousy. Yet here in front of Emily, it seemed the confession of a coward who’d sold her soul for a little peace.

  ‘You worry far too much about what Edward thinks. What are you doing tomorrow?’

  ‘Taking Robbie to the zoo.’

  ‘And Sunday?’

  ‘I’m going home on Sunday.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re coming with me to an exhibition of the Heidelberg School.’

  ‘I’m not sure . . .’

  ‘Let me think who’s on offer. Tom Roberts, Charles Conder, Arthur Streeton, Frederick McCubbin . . .’

  Belle listened, transfixed, as Emily rattled off the names of her artistic heroes. Something stirred inside her, a sense of who she once was and would be again.

  ‘When should we meet?’

  CHAPTER 51

  The old bull lay like a great grey boulder on the riverbank. Inkosi had not died easily. The ground around was soaked in blood, and churned from the thrashing of giant limbs as he’d struggled to stand on wounded knees. Bullets had ripped open the heavy folds of his flank, and one great tusk ploughed into the ground to half its length. The other arched over Nandi’s head, where she crouched beside the body. She ran a hand along its smooth surface, then glanced back at Luke, her expression full of sorrow.

  Inkosi had not been killed for his ivory, although no doubt men would risk venturing onto Themba land to claim the tusks. He’d been killed for rampaging through the local farmers’ fields once too often, and was the fourth elephant to die for this crime in a month.

  Luke slid down the bank to join Nandi, hollow with sadness. Stroking the great lifeless trunk, still warm. He loved all Themba’s elephants, but this old bull had a special place in his heart. He remembered the day they’d first met with vivid clarity, not far from this very spot. Inkosi bathing in the river, allowing Luke the best view of an elephant he’d ever had. Vast upturned tusks, as thick as a man’s body at the base. They must have weighed two hundred pounds each. An old bullet hole in one of his huge flapping ears. The strange prehensile trunk with its soft, fleshy tip, searching the air.

  Luke had moved nearer, and nearer again, drawn by the tusker’s ancient eyes, eyes that stared straight into his soul. Overcome with a feeling of such majesty that he could not turn away. It was dangerous to approach an elephant so closely, especially a bull, yet something told him not to be afraid. When Inkosi moved off upriver, Luke went with him.

  That began an odd alliance between the elephant and the man. They would disappear together for days at a time. Why Inkosi tolerated him, Luke never knew. Sometimes young bulls would join old ones to learn the laws of the savannah from the patriarch. Where to find choice seasonal fruit and seed pods. How to find water in the desert. When to seek out females in oestrus. Perhaps Inkosi accepted him in this time-honoured role. Whatever the reason, the bull seemed to enjoy his companionship and Luke became well-versed in elephant lore.

  He would have risked his life to stand between his old friend and the guns. Yet now he faced the dreadful task of hacking Inkosi’s tusks from his skull and burying them. He’d be damned if others would profit from the bull’s death. After that, he’d lead Cain and Abel’s pride to the riverbank. The brothers were seven years old now, and in their prime. They had many young cubs, and the carcass would provide them with weeks of meat.

  Luke offered Nandi his hand and pulled her to her feet.

  ‘We must not let this happen again,’ she said. ‘We must keep the elephants from the farms.’

  ‘How? The season is dry,’ said Luke. ‘They’re hungry.’

  ‘Hungry for maize, yes. Hungry for beans. But not hungry for chillies.’

  ‘Not hungry for chillies . . . why do women talk in riddles?’

  ‘When I was a child at the mission, elephants sometimes came through the compound at night, trampling fences and hurting people. We made a brick of chilli mixed with elephant dung and put hot coals on top. The smoke kept them away.’

  ‘We can’t do that all the way along our boundaries.’

  ‘No, we can do better. Elephants hate chillies. You are a rich man. Pay our neighbours to grow chillies instead.’

  Luke turned the concept over in his mind. Nandi was famous for coming up with unusual solutions and he’d learned not to dismiss her ideas without proper consideration.

  ‘Chillies won’t feed people’s families.’

  ‘But they bring a high price,’ said Nandi. ‘If you can support farmers until their harvest is ready, they will earn more money than with maize and beans. And buffer rows of chilli plants will protect their own food crops.’

  The more Luke thought about it, the more he liked it. It would keep Themba’s elephants out of conflict with man, and improve the lot of local farmers at the same time. Everyone would win

  ‘Nandi, you’re a genius.’ He picked her up, and spun her around until they were both dizzy. When he set her back down, she was breathless and glowing. She looked very beautiful, with her laughing face and polished skin. He fought a sudden urge to take her in his arms again.

  ‘You are pleased?’

  ‘You know I am, Nandi. Everything about you pleases me.’

  She held his gaze. There was an invitation in those dark, lustrous eyes. He reached out to touch her
cheek. Nandi was a strong, intelligent, desirable woman who shared his passion for the animals of Africa. She had feelings for him – he didn’t need Tau to tell him. He cared for her too, loved her in his own way.

  But she wasn’t Belle.

  Luke took one last look at Inkosi, wishing his friend a silent goodbye. ‘Time to go, Nandi. We must fetch the river pride before the hyenas come.’

  That night Luke lay awake, listening to the distant roar of lions and the barking of jackals. Thinking about how much his life had changed, and how much it had stayed the same.

  The fortune of a king, yet he slept in the same humble room as before. Money to travel the world, yet he spent each day working for the animals of Themba alongside his staff. Famous enough to woo and win the world’s most beautiful women, yet his heart remained stubbornly true to a girl he hadn’t seen for fifteen years. A girl he didn’t deserve, could never have, and who was married to another man. What was wrong with him? No wonder Tau thought he was crazy. Put so bluntly, it sounded insane, even to him.

  The last two letters from Becky lay unopened on the table beside his bed. The life she talked about back in Australia seemed more and more unreal to him. He refused to return, even briefly. It would open up old wounds. Instead he worked on convincing his mother and sister to come and live in South Africa.

  They’d been over for visits, but Mama complained the climate didn’t suit, and Becky remained wedded to her teaching. Even the promise of an estate in Constantia couldn’t sway them. It didn’t help that the damn war still raged in some provinces, although it didn’t touch Themba’s little corner of the veldt.

  Small feet pattered on the roof above and something buzzed near his face, hopefully outside the mosquito net. Luke waved it away, then sat up, reaching in the dark for the bottle of tonic water beside his bed.

  Problem was, he didn’t feel any different today than when he was eighteen and running from the law. If Belle was with him right now, he still wouldn’t feel worthy. He’d failed her, and Daniel, and Bear. Failed the son he’d never known. Nothing could ever change that.

  Luke lay back again and closed his eyes. Images of the old life in Tasmania danced inside his lids. Cool, rugged ranges clothed in eucalypts and ancient rainforests. Wildlife that seemed strange and exotic to him now. Kangaroos and devils and platypus. Animals that hopped and had pouches and laid eggs. The dazzlingly beautiful tiger cubs. It felt like a different world, another lifetime.

  He had to stop living in the past. Time to let go of his old life, to really let go. Time, perhaps, to explore his feelings for Nandi. But as Luke drifted into sleep, Belle’s face appeared at the edge of dreaming.

  CHAPTER 52

  The telegram arrived at noon on Friday to say that Papa was in bed with a chest complaint. It didn’t sound urgent, but Belle planned to leave for Binburra in the morning, just in case. The influenza had been bad this year.

  Eddie insisted on coming along. He’d been unpredictable lately: one day charming and the next, a grump. This was one of his charming days. He’d imported a car from America, a shiny red Oldsmobile Runabout, and she guessed he wanted to test out his new toy.

  ‘Top speed is over twenty miles per hour,’ he said. ‘Quicker than waiting for the train tomorrow. We could leave after lunch and be there by tonight.’ His face was eager, expectant. This was the first time all year he’d offered to return with her to Hills End.

  Belle wasn’t sure. The Runabout’s leather roof, which came as a separate accessory, had not yet arrived. However, the weather looked fine and she was curious herself to try out the new car, the first they’d ever owned.

  ‘All right then, Eddie. I’ll pack two bags.’

  An hour later she was ready. Eddie stood in the driveway beside his new car, waiting for her. He looked quite dashing. Peaked hat. Goggles pushed high on his forehead. Stylish driving coat of the finest tweed, hanging a little loosely perhaps. He’d lost some weight, and it suited him.

  Belle climbed in beside him. He turned the side crank a few times and the motor roared to life. With a loud bang they were off through the streets of Battery Point. People turned to stare as they went by, and Eddie tooted the horn and doffed his hat. She felt sorry for horses sharing the road. They shied, or even bolted away. Eddie took to stopping the car so they could pass by safely.

  He gave her a turn at driving once they left Hobart. She loved the spring sunshine on her face, the wind in her hair, and how the car magically powered along at a steady speed, as fast as a horse could gallop. It took a while for her to master the steering, which was via a central tiller. When she ran into a ditch, they laughed and worked together to push the car back onto the road. He took over the driving again, and Belle settled back for the ride. It was hard to believe they were actually having fun. She snatched glimpses of the old Eddie, her best friend from years ago.

  Their relationship had improved over the last year, and it was all thanks to that day in Melbourne at Alice Tyler’s house. The day Belle had vowed to reclaim her power. On returning to Hobart she’d begun teaching at Campbell College next door to Coomalong, her family’s Hobart home. Where she and Luke met as children twenty-five years earlier. Now she was principal. Teaching provided her with the purpose she’d been so desperately craving.

  Edward had forbidden it, of course, and refused to help, but she forged ahead despite his resistance. The first teacher she hired was Becky Tyler, shamelessly poached from Ruyton and a willing truant. They’d become friends, although she kept their relationship from her husband. These days Belle had more in common with Becky than with Grace, whom she’d known all her life. They shared so many interests, but she still couldn’t penetrate a certain reserve Becky showed when talking about Luke.

  Although Eddie had railed against the school in the beginning, times were changing and he’d eventually come round. Society was becoming more tolerant of working wives, especially when their work involved charitable pursuits, which were viewed as fashionable. Belle also liked to think that Eddie respected her for standing up to him.

  He still worked too hard. Often he came home dog-tired and went straight to his room. He still spent nights at the club, but he vehemently denied the rumours about other women. In the absence of firm evidence, Belle had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes he came home full of energy and enthusiasm for his family. Clara and Anne loved those times. If Belle was honest, she loved them too. Intimacy was returning to their marriage.

  Eddie swerved wildly to dodge a sow and piglets dashing across the road, and they both shrieked with laughter. He laid a proprietorial hand on her knee, and she let it stay. Why couldn’t he be like this all the time?

  Three hours into their journey, and the sun disappeared. The breeze stiffened and shifted southerly. Belle shivered and pulled her wrap around her shoulders. Clouds were scudding in from the west.

  As the day grew darker, so did Eddie’s mood. He cursed as bone-jarring corrugations rattled the car. He swore as they slid into potholes. When they hit an especially deep rut in the road, he slammed on the brake and jumped out. ‘I need a piss.’

  Belle needed a toilet stop too, but not here. They should have stopped in New Norfolk. Here there was nothing but bare sheep paddocks. No trees to hide behind. She wished she was a man. How very convenient were trousers and standing up to pee.

  It started to rain. Belle reached for her jacket on the seat beside her. Something fell from the folds, a small cut-glass bottle with a silver top, full of a dark liquid. She picked it up. No label. She unscrewed the lid and wrinkled her nose in distaste at the distinct, pungent smell of laudanum. Belle’s breathing grew shallow. It was as if someone were tightening a vice in her chest. She could see her husband standing with his back to the road, searching through his coat.

  Eddie was chasing the dragon.

  It explained so much. His frequent tiredness and lack of appetite. The mood swings and erratic behaviour. What a fool she’d been. Mistaking his bouts of energy an
d enthusiasm for a renewed interest in their marriage. It cast everything she believed about him into doubt.

  Belle stared at the pretty little bottle, remembering Luke’s brief brush with laudanum after the mine accident. He’d once begged her to bring him some, lying about Dr Lovejoy prescribing it. Her father’s words echoed in her ears. ‘Drug-takers are all liars and cheats, Belle, without exception. While in the grip of their addiction they may never be trusted, no matter who they are or what they say.’

  Eddie was swearing again, and turning out his pockets. Kicking at a fence post. A sudden fear rippled through her, a fear of what he might do if she confronted him in this lonely place. Belle tossed the bottle into the long grass beside the road.

  Eddie got back in the car and they drove on without a word. The rain pelted harder. Belle pulled her hat down and fastened the veil across her eyes. Nothing for it but to endure the ride. When she reached Binburra, Papa would know what to do.

  Belle stood in the parlour, her chin trembling. She covered her ears. ‘Oh, Mama, no. Don’t tell me. I don’t believe you.’

  The rawness of Papa’s death was etched into her mother’s face, a face haggard and contorted with grief. It showed in her eyes, red from weeping, set in dark hollows that hadn’t been there before. Sounded in her tremulous voice, so hoarse and weak that Belle could barely hear her. She seemed to have aged a lifetime.

  Dr Lovejoy led Belle over to a chair and sat her down. ‘If it’s any comfort, your father’s death was painless. When the pneumonia really took hold he lapsed into unconsciousness and slipped peacefully away in his sleep.’ His voice broke with emotion. ‘A dignified end to a remarkable life.’

  Belle opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Edward moved to comfort her and she ducked away. Her feelings didn’t make sense; they made her ashamed. Anger instead of sorrow. Anger that Papa had left her so unexpectedly, without a word. Resentment instead of sympathy for her mother. Mama had lived a charmed life with the cleverest, kindest, most generous man in the world, a man who’d loved her wholeheartedly and beyond measure. Nothing to pity there. Belle wanted that too. The contrast with her own marriage had never been more stark.