"Yes, that's right," Alexandra replied. "According to what Ruel said, they should arrive fairly soon. Her family name, Baxter, seems familiar to me. Do you recall anything about any Baxters?"
David thought for a moment, the rain streaming from his hat and oilskins, then shook his head. "No, I certainly don't, Alexandra, but it's a fairly common name. I knew some Baxters in England, and you might have met some yourself at one time or another. Is that roof all right?"
"Yes, it's fine, and so is the one at the house. There are some leaks in the married stockmen's houses, and Kunmanara is seeing to them. We have mail at the house. I'll see you there in a few minutes."
He smiled and nodded, riding toward the barns as she went up the hill. At the house, she hung up her oilskins and hat, then tucked up wisps of her hair as she waited for David. He came in a few minutes later, at fifty still the strong, active man she had married.
Their marriage had aged like choice wine, the rich, mellow pleasure, of warmly familiar love having a deep overtone of passion as they embraced and kissed.
When he began reading the mail, she poured port for him and a sherry for herself. As she had anticipated, he spotted the implication in Dierdre's letter that she had personal knowledge about Clara Tavish. Also as she had anticipated, he was annoyed about it, but furiously angry that Morton had a mistress. He and Alexandra agreed that it was an unsatisfactory situation from both a moral and a practical standpoint, but they were powerless to do anything about it.
When he finished going through the mail, it was dinnertime. Alexandra looked forward to a pleasant, relaxing evening and the companionship of her husband for the next few days, but her hopes were dashed. Shortly after dinner, Silas, the head stockman, came to the house and said that a jackaroo had been sent from Boar Paddock with word that it was flooding. David left with Silas, riding off into the rainy night.
As the rain continued, the next few days were a familiar time of tension for Alexandra, and she slept lightly. In case urgent word came from Boar Paddock and other areas to the north that flooding had become critical, she remained ready to send riders for help from the high-lying paddocks to the south. In the meantime, she monitored the level of the creek below the hill, ready to move the families and Aborigines up to the house.
Then the threat passed when the rain ceased a few days later. The following day, the skies were clear and the mild autumn sun beamed down on a haze of fresh green that had replaced the sun-baked brown on the vast miles of rolling hills. David returned two days later, muddy and weary but content, no sheep having been drowned during the flash floods.
The next day, Alexandra was at her desk in the family parlor when she heard David shouting her name. She ran to the front door and outside as he rode up to the house at a run. ''Jonathan and his bride are coming down the track!" he called elatedly, reining his horse to a skidding stop and turning it. "I'm going to ride out and meet them!"
Alexandra smiled and waved as David rode down the tree-lined avenue at a run. Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked at the track and saw two riders with pack horses in the distance, one of them definitely Jonathan. As excited as her husband, Alexandra had to stop for a moment and think of what to do first as she reentered the house.
Hurrying into the kitchen to talk with Flora about dinner, she decided upon the extravagance of stuffed suckling pig. Then she rushed upstairs to make certain that Jonathan's room was clean. Leaving his room, she stopped in hers to touch up her hair, then went downstairs and outside to wait on the house steps.
Any visitor was still a matter of lively interest, even swagmen who passed through, but the arrival of the Kerrick heir with his wife was an event of overriding importance. Near the barns, the storekeeper, jackaroos, and stockmen had gathered to look, while the families were in a cluster in front of the houses beside the creek. The stable boy moved from side to side in front of the steps, craning his neck to see.
When the horses were finally coming up the avenue, Alexandra lifted her hand in response to her son's happy wave, but her eyes were on his wife. She gasped softly at Catherine's exceptional beauty, but she also saw that Jonathan had chosen more than a pretty face. The direct gaze from the green eyes was that of a strong, self-reliant woman.
At a closer distance, Alexandra saw the depths in Catherine's lovely eyes and the firm lines of her chin and mouth that indicated a contained, tempestuous nature. Utterly delighted, Alexandra went down the steps to help Catherine dismount. Catherine smiled in response, climbing down from the saddle into Alexandra's arms.
"Welcome to your new home, Catherine," Alexandra said as they hugged and kissed. "I'm so pleased that you're here."
"I'm very pleased to be here, Mistress Kerrick. I had hoped that I would be welcome, and it's very gratifying to see that I am."
"Indeed you are, my dear. It would take a heart of stone and the mind of a dolt to do anything but welcome you with the greatest pleasure."
Alexandra turned to Jonathan and greeted him, then took Catherine inside as the men carried in the baggage. When their son and wife were in their room, Alexandra and David made preparations to have a holiday the following day, with a feast to celebrate the homecoming. David went to the barns to organize tasks for the men and jackaroos, while Alexandra did the same with the women in the houses beside the creek.
In her glow of happiness, the remainder of the day passed in a rush for Alexandra. Predictably, when dusk fell, the throbbing drone of didgeridoos, the clatter of rhythm sticks, and chanting voices came from the huts down the creek as the Aborigines marked the occasion in their own way. The sound carried into the house as Alexandra prepared for dinner. When her son and his wife came downstairs, her heart swelled with pride, the two of them the most handsome couple she had ever seen.
Dinner was another triumph for Flora. The tender, juicy pork was seasoned to perfection while the other dishes were equally delicious. Alexandra enjoyed the conversation with Catherine far more than the food, since the young woman was as interesting as she was beautiful. The lack of adequate education for the children at the home paddock having long troubled Alexandra, she was intensely pleased when Catherine expressed a wish to organize a school for them as soon as possible.
It was in the family parlor after dinner, when Catherine talked about her family, that Alexandra plunged from supreme happiness into an abyss of sorrow. Recalling conversations of decades before, she knew why the Baxter name had seemed familiar. She also knew why Catherine had such an excellent education. Her mother, possibly the only one knowing the dread secret, had believed that she would need every conceivable advantage in life.
Alexandra had to conceal her feelings only briefly because they all went upstairs to their bedrooms a few minutes later. When she and David were getting ready for bed, she knew that she would have to bear her burden of knowledge alone as she listened to him commenting happily about Catherine. Having forgotten their long-ago conversation that had revealed the entire story to her, David would also dismiss her fears as groundless. He still believed that the past could be left behind, but she believed differently, and now she knew that Auberta Baxter did as well.
In her gown and slippers, Alexandra picked up a candlestick. "I ate intemperately at dinner tonight, David," she told him. "I don't feel like going to bed yet, so I'll look at the sketches for a time."
"Very well, but don't stay up too late. You don't want to be too tired to enjoy the celebration tomorrow."
She nodded and kissed him, then left the room. As she followed the pool of light from the candlestick down the hall and stairs in the dark, quiet house, the sound of the didgeridoos, rhythm sticks, and chant still came from the huts. She wondered if in their mysterious way of knowing things, the Aborigines also knew what she did and the corroboree was an attempt to exorcise the ghosts of the past and send them back through the decades.
Sitting at her desk, she left the sketches untouched.
She looked into the darkness at the side of the room, recal
ling the conversation with the Underwoods at dinner in her father's home. They had talked about a maid named Auberta Mowbray who had married a shipwright named Hiram Baxter. Later, David had told her about Auberta Mowbray and her circumstances in Parramatta, which had explained the remaining details of the woman's situation.
Alexandra knew she would have to adjust to what had happened, never allowing it to affect her attitude toward Catherine even to the slightest degree. In her heart, she remained convinced that Jonathan had made a perfect choice for a companion in life. But when they had children, that corrupt, evil bloodline might be dominant with the stigma revealing itself.
As she sat in the dim, quiet room, that baneful, vindictive jeer still rang in her ears across the decades. He had said she would never be rid of him, and he had told the truth. That rotted hand continued to reach out from the grave, its putrid touch fouling her life and those of her loved ones. Her first child had been fathered by the depraved criminal, and now her second son was married to Enos Hinton's daughter.
Chapter Eighteen
"I concur with you," Morton said as he finished examining the balance sheet. "For all practical purposes, you're bankrupt." Sitting in the chair beside his uncle's desk, he handed the paper back to him. "Do you have any assets that you haven't listed there?"
"The house I inherited from my father," Creighton replied despondently. "It and the furnishings are worth a few hundred guineas. Other than that, I have a few land holdings and such that aren't producing any revenue. And my partnership in the firm of Hammond and Kerrick, of course."
"Well, that's hardly an asset. We agreed months ago that it is a charter entity only, because it has no holdings or revenues."
"Even so, it's been a firm of some standing for years and the name is well-known. The good will of the firm is intangible, but it's an asset."
"Good will!" Morton echoed scornfully. "All of the good will in the world, together with sixpence, will buy a sixpenneth of merchandise, and not a ha'penneth more. What has it got others these past months?"
Creighton somberly agreed since the previous months had been disastrous. Not only in Sydney, but in London and every other capital in the empire, many old, well-established firms had gone bankrupt. People at large had also suffered with money extremely scarce and commerce almost at a standstill. "But it hasn't seemed to affect you at all, Morton," Creighton mused.
"No, because I've accepted payments only in cash or in commodities or property with a stable value. I warned you to do the same, because it's been obvious from newspaper reports that there would be a currency crisis due to a shortage of government specie reserves. Now that crisis is here."
"Yes, you did tell me to do that, Morton. But I didn't understand what you meant then, and I'm still not sure I understand what happened."
"Manufactured goods are mostly traded within the empire, but many raw materials are bought from other countries. There has been a steady drain of specie, and the Bank of England is prohibited by law from issuing notes in excess of its gold and silver reserves. Most commerce is on the basis of debits and credits, of course, but once money became scarce, everyone began demanding cash. A crisis resulted, because there was too little money in circulation to support commercial activity at all levels."
His aged face drawn with fatigue and anxiety, Creighton nodded. "So for some time, you've been comparing the newspaper reports on the value of imports into the empire versus the exports, and saw there was a drain of specie. That was very astute, Morton. Not that it will help me, but I suppose the government will now take measures to procure more gold and silver."
"Yes, but it will take years to procure enough. The drain continues, and the world-wide specie reserves are limited. In the interim, to provide money for everyday business, joint-stock companies will be chartered to issue bank notes backed by the value of the company. I've been invited to attend a meeting on the formation of such a company here."
"One needn't ask why I wasn't invited," Creighton remarked bitterly. "Very shortly, I won't be able to provide food and other necessities for my family. I suppose I could go to Tibooburra Station with my wife. In the last letter I received from your mother, she made it very clear that Martha and I would be welcome to live there."
Morton knew about the invitation, having been responsible for it. Some months before, he had written a brief letter to his mother and advised her that her brother's finances were becoming critical. Creighton talked more about the situation, concerned mostly about his daughters whose opportunities would be severely limited in the isolation of the outback. He said that Dora and Leona could stay in Sydney with Melissa and Amanda, their married sisters, until they found either suitable work or husbands.
"Not that I want to make such arrangements," he added dejectedly, "but I have no alternative. This is a grievous thing to happen to a man at my time of life, Morton, and it will break my wife's heart."
"No doubt, but as you say, you can go with her to Tibooburra Station. There are many in your position who have no such recourse."
"That's quite true," Creighton agreed morosely. "As much as I detest being reduced to accepting charity, it is available to me. Everyone there seems to be very content, so life there must be pleasant. In her letter, Alexandra informed me that your brother's wife is expecting a child."
"So I understand. If you're going to the station, you should leave during early spring to avoid traveling in the summer heat."
"Yes, I will. There'll be expenses, and I must leave at least some money with Melissa and Amanda for their sisters' upkeep. Would you buy my house and its furnishings, Morton? It's among the finest houses in Sydney, and I think three hundred guineas would be a fair price."
Morton promptly agreed without bartering on the price, even though he had absolutely no desire to buy the house. He had been expecting to provide some financial help to his uncle, knowing his mother would want him to, and he hoped to recover the money when the monetary crisis eased. He talked with his uncle a few minutes longer, discussing details of the transaction, then went to his own office.
In contrast to those who had suffered losses, he had exploited the recent situation. Buying up the assets of bankrupt companies for pence on the guinea, he had laid the groundwork to become much more wealthy when the financial climate improved. Reading the papers on his desk, he again studied the invitation to participate in the formation of a joint-stock company that would be authorized to issue bank notes.
It had the promise of large profits, as well as something else he desired just as much. In at least some respects, it would place him on an equal level with other participants, most of whom were from the loftiest levels of exclusives in the colony. Along with recognition, a substantial position in the company would give him powerful influence.
The company's objective was to raise a minimum of twenty thousand guineas in specie as security to back the issue of bank notes. The voting stock would consist of three thousand shares at a nominal price of ten guineas a share, which had to be purchased with specie on deposit at the bank. Nonvoting stock was being offered at a lower price and could be purchased with either specie or liens on real property.
The newspapers had reported the chartering of similar companies in London and elsewhere, and Morton had kept back a large cash reserve for such an opportunity. The meeting for the company's formation was scheduled for the next day, so he went over his accounts, figuring out how much he could invest, then he turned to other matters.
Along with the economic situation, other factors presented both opportunities for profits and hidden pitfalls. Parliament was debating the elimination of protective tariffs on grain imports in order to lower food prices, which would drastically reduce the value of wheat shipments from Sydney. Pondering that and other developments, Morton worked at his desk until late.
The next day, sleet and rain sweeping ahead of an icy, gusty August wind made the streets quiet as Morton went to the meeting. In the offices over the Bank of New South Wales, an app
rentice took his coat and hat, then showed him into the room where the meeting would be held. At one end of the room, some fifteen people stood in front of the roaring flames in a large fireplace, and an apprentice served glasses of port.
One of them was an aged, wizened man named Farrel Ibbets, who had competed with Morton at various times and cooperated at others. "Don't anyone yawn," he warned jokingly. "This fellow here will have the gold out of your teeth before you can close your mouth."
The remark created a stir of amusement as Morton smiled weakly, exchanging nods with Ibbets and the other men. James Macarthur and Howard Montague, leading figures in the highest social level of the colony, spoke amiably to Morton in greeting. The managing director of the bank, Giles Newcomb, had been appointed by the governor to call the meeting. A portly man in his forties, he hurried toward Morton to greet him.
"I'm very pleased indeed that you accepted the invitation, Mr. Kerrick," he said with a brisk, practiced smile. "Come over to the fire and join the others. You know Mr. Osgood, the colonial treasurer, don't you? Yes, I'm sure you need no introductions to anyone here."
Morton declined the glass of port the apprentice offered, then warmed his hands at the fire as he exchanged comments about the weather and other general subjects with the men. A short time later, Giles Newcomb looked at his watch and announced that the meeting would begin. Moving across the room, the men took seats at a long table.
The meeting was opened by the colonial treasurer, who announced that he was speaking for the governor in stressing the importance of providing an adequate supply of currency for daily transactions within the colony. He appealed to the patriotism of those present, asking them to invest generously and capitalize the joint-stock company. While he was talking, apprentices handed around samples of the bank notes that had been ordered, which were similar to the currency issued by the Bank of England.
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