Fortune's Son

by Jennifer Scoullar

  ‘I want to see Papa.’

  The doctor glanced over at Elizabeth, then he led Belle upstairs to the main bedroom. Her father might have been asleep. She shook his shoulder to be sure. Kissed his cheek and touched his hair, startled by how stiff and cold he was. She pulled the blanket higher to keep him warm. Perversely, he looked more peaceful now than the last time she’d seen him. Death had smoothed all the care from his face.

  ‘Papa?’ Belle blinked back tears as the truth hit home. The body in the bed looked like her father, but it wasn’t him. The character and spirit that made him was gone, lost forever.

  She turned to find Eddie beside her. ‘I’m sorry, Belle. He was a good man and a fine father. I used to secretly wish he was my father. I envied you.’

  A few hours ago, his heartfelt words would have meant a lot. They would have had the power to comfort, but now they left her numb. She’d needed Papa to help her decide what to do about Eddie. She’d needed to talk to him. There was nobody else in the world that she trusted as much, not even her mother.

  For one terrible moment, she wished she hadn’t thrown the pretty little bottle away.

  CHAPTER 53

  Luke was eating dinner on the porch with Nandi, Tau and Sizani when Becky’s telegram arrived. He read the brief message over and over with a sense of disbelief. How could it be? Daniel Campbell and his wife, Elizabeth, dead, departing this world within a few days of each other. The implications were immense. Belle had lost her father and mother in one savage blow. His son had lost his grandparents. And Luke had lost the most profound influence of his life.

  Memories of Daniel flooded in: days on Mount Wellington, walking to Tiger Pass, cataloguing specimens in Binburra’s library. How could his mentor be dead when he still lived so vividly inside Luke’s heart? Daniel’s compassion and wisdom and burning thirst for knowledge continued to guide Luke every single day.

  Luke dropped the telegram on the table and Tau picked it up. ‘You have told me of this man. Your teacher and friend – like a father.’

  ‘He was more than that.’

  Tau passed the telegram to Nandi. ‘What will you do?’ she asked.

  Luke felt helpless, full of emotions that had nowhere to go. ‘I can’t go back. Everybody in Tasmania thinks I’m dead.’

  Nandi placed her hand on his. ‘You are the famous Colonel Buchanan, king of diamonds. You can do whatever you wish, go wherever you please.’

  She was right, as usual. He could return if he wanted, pay his respects. The question was, did he want to?

  It was barely a month since he’d vowed to let go of his past. Could he bear to revisit the landscape of a long-vanished life? Luke squeezed his eyes shut, felt the setting sun on his lids. Could he bear not to? Daniel had been his roadmap. When in doubt, he always asked himself, What would Daniel do? This vast sanctuary of Themba only existed because of Daniel. He deserved to be properly honoured.

  Luke squeezed Nandi’s hand. ‘You’re in charge while I’m away.’

  He left the next morning. As the train rattled towards Cape Town, Luke read Becky’s letters, which were full of news of the far-flung island that he’d once called home. About how, since Federation, Tasmania was a full state of the Commonwealth of Australia. About how the new parliament was close to giving women voting rights. About the spectacular success of the revitalised Campbell College.

  Although she taught at the college, side by side with Belle, Becky didn’t mention her once. Deliberately so, he guessed.

  Luke stared out the window, briefly startled by his own reflection. Nandi had insisted on lightening his hair to disguise him. She’d done a good job. He barely recognised himself. The featureless veldt flashed by as the train brought Luke ever closer to a past he’d strived very hard to forget.

  CHAPTER 54

  ‘Bye, Mama. Bye, Papa.’

  ‘Goodbye, girls. Be good today.’ Edward kissed his daughters warmly on the cheek. He loved their breakfasts together; it was the only time of the day when he could pretend they were a happy family.

  ‘Bye, my darlings,’ said Belle. ‘Good luck on your spelling test, Clara.’

  Edward went back to his newspaper. ‘Listen to this.’ He folded the pages in half to more easily read the article. ‘Millionaire mining magnate Colonel Lucas Buchanan has arrived in Hobart on private business. The Colonel is a Boer War hero, and famous for discovering the largest diamond in the world. Two gems, cut from that immense stone, grace the Crown Jewels on display at the Tower of London. He arrived without fanfare, and the length and purpose of his visit is unknown. Private business, eh. Wonder what that means?’

  Belle nibbled at her toast. Hetty tried to serve her from the silver warmer of scrambled eggs and was waved away. Two months now since her parents were laid to rest, and she still had no appetite. It seemed disrespectful somehow to eat a hearty breakfast when they couldn’t.

  ‘I wager the Colonel’s looking for investment opportunities. He’s an important man. We should host a welcome gathering for him.’

  ‘Not here, Eddie. I’m in no mood for parties. Hold it at the club if you must.’

  ‘You’re not interested in meeting him? Some say the Colonel’s fortune rivals that of Cecil Rhodes himself.’

  ‘That’s hardly a glowing endorsement. Rhodes is, from all accounts, a greedy, ignorant man who treats the native Africans worse than animals. No doubt Buchanan is the same.’ Belle finished her cup of tea. ‘I must go, Eddie, or I’ll be late for work.’

  Edward nodded and rolled a cigarette. He lit his smoke and watched Belle leave the room. Her trim figure needed no corset to cinch in the waist, even after three children. Disappointing that their family had never grown larger. Despite his great affection for Robbie, he would still love a son of his own blood, but Belle didn’t want more children. She’d made that plain enough.

  He’d resented Belle’s teaching at first, but had come to be proud of her. She was a thoroughly modern woman – a respected educator and accomplished artist. Her impressionist landscapes and animal drawings were attracting attention from Hobart’s cultural crowd and she would soon hold her first exhibition.

  Belle was also an understanding wife. She’d stuck with him through everything, even when she’d discovered his taste for laudanum. He’d promised to stop, but he was weak and unable to keep his word. He wasn’t the best husband. Sometimes her loyalty surprised him.

  Edward took a drag on his cigarette. He was ashamed to know that loyalty was not his strong suit. His mind travelled back, for the millionth time, to the fateful night of his father’s death. When he’d paid a kitchen maid to betray the man who’d saved his life. The man Belle loved. His treachery still haunted him. He’d sacrificed his humanity to dispose of his rival, and for what? Belle’s heart had never truly belonged to him.

  Hetty began clearing away the breakfast dishes. ‘Have you time for another coffee, sir?’

  ‘Why not?’ He wasn’t looking forward to his day in the office. A meeting with an accountant who would no doubt confirm what he already knew – the Hills End mine hadn’t turned a profit for months. He’d been hoping to avoid the expense of sinking more shafts. With wool and timber prices down, the last thing he needed was another major capital cost. Hills End Resources was still recovering from the collapse of the state’s main bank a decade earlier. Edward had been a director of the Bank of Van Diemen’s Land, having succeeded his father to the position.

  For seventy years, the bank had enjoyed a reputation for probity and stability. Edward’s directorship coincided with a period of high-risk lending and business gambles. A Royal Commission concluded that one hundred thousand pounds of cash and bullion, listed as bank assets, had existed only in the fertile imaginations of the directors. Edward was lucky to have escaped charges.

  The bank closure heralded a difficult decade, though he’d managed to shield Belle from his financial problems. Drought and depression slashed profits. Class conflict led to state-wide unrest, with the timber,
pastoral and mining industries embroiled in bitter industrial action. Edward faced protracted strikes on all sides as his workers formed unions.

  Of course it didn’t help that he’d also lost a fortune from gambling. It was his chief recreation, along with laudanum, drinking at the club and discreetly entertaining other women. He’d formed a special attachment to a ravishing young creature named Fanny Catchpole, and installed her in rooms not far from the club. Edward loved his wife, but he had needs, and Belle had banned him from her bed. Fanny was only eighteen, a dark-haired beauty who accepted him for who he was. She didn’t try to make him a better man.

  Edward picked up the paper and re-read the article. To hell with the whining accountant and his gloomy forecasts. Edward would set up a meeting with this Colonel fellow instead. He might very well be the answer to his prayers.

  CHAPTER 55

  ‘Do you understand your assignment?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Leave this here hotel by that fancy carriage.’ He pointed out the window. ‘To distract them newsboys.’

  ‘That’s right.’ The concierge had done an excellent job of finding him a double. A bit shorter and the nose wasn’t quite right, but with his bleached hair and dark beard, and without close inspection, he would pass as Colonel Buchanan well enough.

  ‘After an hour you should return to the hotel. Within reason you may charge items to my account, but only by ringing down to reception. Do not speak to anybody in person, do not go out and do not get drunk. I may be gone a few days.’

  ‘Yes, sir, Colonel. Easiest job I ever done.’

  Luke and Becky alighted from the train at Hills End station. He filled his lungs with mountain air. It felt as though he’d been away for a lifetime and yet had never left. Ever since he’d arrived in Tasmania, the feeling of coming home was growing stronger. The cool eucalypt-scented air, the crystal clarity of light, even the noise and grime of Hobart’s back streets struck an achingly familiar chord. But here, in the shadow of the ranges? He hadn’t expected the sense of belonging to be so complete.

  ‘Well,’ said Becky. ‘Where do we go first?’

  It seemed like he was always visiting graves. His father’s and Uncle Hiram’s in Hobart, and now he stood before the twin marble tombstones of Daniel and Elizabeth Campbell. It didn’t seem possible. Memories tumbled in. His first nervous day at Campbell College. How warm and welcoming they’d been. Their courage and kindness in giving a fugitive shelter. Elizabeth begging him to leave for the sake of her daughter, yet still caring enough to send for Angus so he would be safe. That magical trip he’d taken with Daniel, Bear and the tigers to Tiger Pass. What a proud young fool he’d been back then.

  He knelt to lay the flowers and murmured a prayer.

  A cloud passed over the sun. ‘Can we leave now, please?’ said Becky. ‘I hate graveyards.’

  ‘Go back to the buggy. I have one more wreath to lay.’

  Luke made his way past the old oak tree ringed with iron stakes, to the far side of the cemetery. Here the graves were humbler, some marked simply with crosses or engraved metal plates. Some were not marked at all. Luke stopped at a plot by the edge of the cemetery. A figure knelt before it, pulling out weeds. A small bouquet of wildflowers graced the headstone.

  ‘Excuse me, madam.’

  She turned around. For a moment he didn’t recognise the frail woman with greying hair. Molly Swift.

  Life had not been kind to Molly. She couldn’t have been much more than fifty, but looked years older. Her thin face had grown thinner, almost skeletal, and deep black circles ringed her eyes.

  Luke crouched down beside her to lay his wreath.

  Her eyes brightened with pleasure. ‘Why, thank you, sir. Did you know my Angus then?’

  ‘I did.’ He was surprised, after all these years, to find tears of sadness and shame welling in his eyes.

  Molly lost her balance trying to stand. Luke caught her arm and helped her to her feet. She stumbled, racked by a series of hacking coughs, and pulled her threadbare coat tight around her.

  ‘You’re ill, Molly.’

  ‘How should you know my name, sir?’

  He felt her forehead; it was burning up. ‘Never mind that. You’re coming with me.’

  Molly lay on the bed at the Railway Hotel, barely conscious. The doctor snapped his bag shut. ‘This woman has a fever of one hundred and four, congested lungs and is suffering from malnutrition. It’s amazing she was still standing.’

  ‘Can she be moved?’

  ‘Certainly not.’ He scribbled out a prescription and gave it to Becky. ‘Get this filled. Give Mrs Swift a tepid bath, burn those filthy rags she’s wearing, brush her teeth and put her to bed in a clean nightgown.’ He put a bottle of eucalyptus oil and cough syrup on the night stand. ‘Four drops of the oil in a teaspoon of sugar, every four hours. She may have doses of the syrup and medicinal brandy as required. Feed her as much tea, toast and chicken soup as she will take. I’ll be back in the morning.’

  ‘Oh, but I can’t,’ said Becky. ‘I have to be at work tomorrow.’

  ‘We will need to engage a nurse,’ said Luke. ‘A qualified nurse. Cost is no object. Mrs Swift’s welfare is important to me.’

  ‘A nurse can arranged.’ The doctor tipped his hat. ‘I shall send you someone.’

  Luke watched Becky put a blanket over Molly and make her pillows more comfortable. It still seemed strange to him that beds here weren’t draped with mosquito nets.

  ‘She’s asleep,’ Becky said. ‘Now I want to know what this is about.’

  In hushed tones, Luke told her of his history with Molly, and how unkind he’d been. ‘I blamed her for everything. For Angus not taking me prospecting. For us having to work down the mine. I even tried to take her little dog away when she was grieving. I misjudged her, Beck. Angus loved her and she did her best for him, and for me. He’d turn over in his grave to see her like this.’

  Becky laid her hand on his arm. ‘You were young. We all make mistakes.’

  ‘Well, this is one mistake I intend to put right. If she lives, Molly Swift will never want for anything again.’ It felt good to know he could do this last thing for Angus.

  A nurse arrived within the hour. She examined her charge, who was confused but conscious. ‘Molly’s fever has broken. With rest and nourishing food, she has a fair chance.’

  ‘I’m staying here in Hills End,’ Luke told Becky. ‘Shall I book you a room?’

  ‘No. I’ll take the train home this afternoon.’ She frowned and took him aside. ‘Come back with me, Luke. What if Molly recognises you?’

  ‘I’m not leaving her.’

  Becky pressed her lips together. ‘Well, I need to go. The children have an excursion to the museum tomorrow. Belle will need all hands on deck.’

  Belle.

  Luke started at the mention of her name. ‘Is she happy, do you think?’ He’d deliberately not asked about her until now.

  ‘Belle finds teaching very rewarding.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you that. I asked if she was happy.’

  ‘Yes, of course she is.’

  Becky’s smile seemed forced, and there was something about the way she said it.

  ‘What aren’t you telling me?’ His sister looked away. ‘What of my son? How is he?’

  ‘Robbie is at Scotch College, the finest school in Melbourne. His father is devoted to him.’

  Luke did not miss the censure in her tone.

  ‘Luke, leave it alone. You have a good life in South Africa. Belle thinks you dead, all these years. For both your sakes it needs to stay that way.’

  Luke put on his hat. ‘I’ll walk you to the station.’

  Becky pulled at his arm. ‘Listen to me. You’re still wanted for murder in Tasmania. Money can’t change that. Pay your respects and go home.’

  He handed Becky her coat. ‘You don’t want to miss that train.’

  She sighed and threw her arms around his neck. ‘You haven’t changed one bit. Still as stubborn as eve
r.’

  Molly coughed and stirred on the bed.

  Luke drew Becky in for a long, heartfelt hug, breathed in her sweet scent. How good to hold his sister close. How would he bear to leave her?

  When he let Becky go, her eyes shone with tears. ‘You’re a good man, Luke Tyler.’ She blew her nose. ‘Please be careful.’

  He kissed her forehead. ‘Always, little sister. Now let’s get you to the station.’

  That night, Luke sat out on the hotel verandah with a beer, watching the sun set over the ridges, the rugged heartland of his youth. The highest peaks glowed gold in the lingering rays, while shadows cast the valleys and slopes in mysterious shades of purple and pink. The longer he gazed at the mountains, the more powerful their hold on him grew.

  Luke’s fingers trembled where he held his glass. He loved Themba’s vast savannah, but not like this. This powerful, remembered love threatened to overwhelm him. Somewhere out there lay Bear, enfolded in the rocky arms of the ranges. Somewhere out there roamed his magnificent tigers, at least in his imagination. Had they survived in their hidden valley? Did they or their offspring still hunt wallaby there?

  He needed to know.

  The hotel owner came by. He didn’t know Luke was the famous Colonel Buchanan, but he did know his guest had bottomless pockets. ‘Could you use another beer, mate?’

  Luke nodded. ‘And arrange a good horse and provisions to be ready at first light. I’m going bush for a few days.’

  The sun was barely up when Luke said goodbye to Molly. ‘You look better this morning. Stronger.’

  Molly pointed to the brandy and he gave her a small cup. She gulped it down. ‘Oh, that’s good, that is. Warms the cockles of my heart.’

  ‘I’ll be gone for a few days,’ he said. ‘Nurse Kendall will stay with you until I get back.’