Creighton again thanked her and David for the warm welcome and unstinting hospitality they had extended. "Even though we were invited," he continued, "your kindness is exceptional. After such a long, harrowing journey, to have so cordial a reception is gratifying beyond words. Moreover, it makes dependence upon charity somewhat less bitter."
"Creighton," Kerrick said firmly, "that isn't a word to be used between us. You have a right to be here because you're family."
"Absolutely," Alexandra agreed. "Rather than being given anything, you're merely accepting what is rightfully due you. Please, let's put that to rest because we're grateful that you're here so we can enjoy your company. Now tell us about your family, and how they are.''
Martha and Creighton talked about their children and grandchildren, becoming more animated on the subject of their loved ones. Their mood became sad again as they explained the arrangements they had made for their youngest daughters, then the conversation moved on to other things.
Catherine went to the sideboard for the brandy and cordial, then freshened the after-dinner drinks. As she poured more into Alexandra's glass, they exchanged a smile as they always did each time their eyes met. During the past months, the beautiful young woman had become like a loving and beloved daughter to Alexandra, and a deep affection had developed between them enriching both their lives. But during quiet, private moments, Alexandra was tormented by worry over the child that Catherine was carrying.
The Hammonds had brought the mail from the postal office in Sydney, which had contained letters to Catherine from her mother and father. That had pleased Alexandra as much as the letter she had received herself from Dierdre. Having visited the girl shortly before leaving Sydney, Martha said that she was still doing very well in school. Then Creighton mentioned that he had sold his house and furnishings to Morton.
"Does he live there now?" Alexandra asked.
Her brother hesitated, then shook his head, discomfited by the question. "No, he's still in lodgings, Alexandra."
A momentary, awkward silence fell. The Hammonds were embarrassed, and Alexandra was troubled by the implication that her son's living with his mistress was a permanent arrangement. Jonathan's poorly-concealed amusement drew a sharp glance from his father, who remained angry over the situation. Alexandra then asked her brother about Morton's business activities.
Creighton replied that he knew few details about Morton's ventures, but his financial success was evident. He mentioned several of Morton's investments, including a joint-stock company to issue bank notes. "Those involved in that company included a Macarthur, a Montague, and others such as that," Creighton continued. "Right there is clear evidence of Morton's great success, because those people do business with very few."
"Yes, that's true. Does he mix with them socially?"
"No, Morton has no social activities at all, as far as I know. He's at the office seven days a week, from early morning until after dark. While he has accumulated wealth, no one can say that he hasn't earned it."
He related in satisfaction how others tried to spy on Morton to take advantage of his business acumen. In contrast to her husband's attitude, Martha was silently moody, evidently believing that Morton could have done more to help them. Alexandra reserved judgment on that point, but she felt uneasy about what Morton was doing.
Over the years, she had been proud of her son's achievements and even more pleased that he had found his place in life. Now it appeared, however, that he had taken a wrong turn and was confused about his goals. Instead of working toward a prominent, respected position, which she knew was what he wanted, he was merely obsessively burrowing after wealth.
By the time the conversation had ended and everyone went to their rooms for the night, Alexandra had decided what she must do. She brought it up while she and David were getting ready for bed, and as she had anticipated, he objected strongly. "There's no need for that," he told her. "You can write Morton a letter and tell him what you have to say. Also, you can't leave when Catherine is going to have a child."
"A letter won't do, and Catherine's baby isn't due until the end of the summer. And there are other reasons why I must go."
"What reasons, Alexandra?"
"I haven't seen my daughter in over four years, David, and I'm losing the joy of her childhood. My explanatory notes on the sketches are finished, and I want to talk to the printer in person before work on the book begins. Martha can look after the household while Creighton attends to the station accounts, which will give them work to do while they settle in here. They both need some purpose, or they'll simply fade away."
David shook his head, pointing out alternative solutions to each of her reasons for going to Sydney. Some of them, such as bringing Dierdre to the station for a visit, were almost humorously impractical, and Alexandra knew he simply disliked their being parted for the three to four months it would take her to travel to the capitol and return. She shared his feelings, but her duty as a mother lay in Sydney.
The issue remaining unsettled that evening, Alexandra discussed it with David several times during the next few days. During one conversation, he suggested that they go together. Although she would have enjoyed that, Alexandra talked him out of it, because she knew he detested Sydney; it was part of his past which he thought he had put behind him.
Agreeing at last, as he always did on matters important to her, David selected an escort and began making arrangements for her journey. Creighton took over the station accounts and Martha the household while Alexandra packed clothes in trunks and saw to her other preparations.
On a late-spring morning in November, Alexandra set out. She rode with Ruel and Eulie in front of two wagons driven by jackaroos, others following with spare horses. As the procession reached the track, the home paddock turned out to bid her farewell. Family and employees gathered at the house and the barns. Women came out of the houses beside the creek, and Catherine brought the children from the small, adjacent schoolhouse. Everyone shouted and waved, and Alexandra waved in reply.
The everyday routine left behind, Alexandra had an expansive sense of freedom, enjoying the journey as she traveled south across the land she loved. On the second evening, however, her pleasure was marred when they stopped in Bushranger Paddock for the night. The camp beside the track was at the head of the valley reaching eastward from the hill where the battle with the bushrangers had taken place, the men buried at the foot of it.
The paddock itself, a part of the station, was as valuable to her as all the rest. But in the same way that the ghost of Enos Hinton was still a somber shadow on a vital part of her life, the bodies of the bushrangers at the foot of the hill tainted the land. Looking at the hill as the sun set behind it, she knew that having the skeletons dug up and scattered would be useless. Some physical remnants of Hinton would remain on the land, just like his odious specter that haunted her life.
That night, she dreamed she was attending Catherine in childbirth. The dream, having every sensation of absolute reality, became a nightmare when the child was born. Looking down at the baby in her arms, Alexandra saw a grotesque monster with huge, bloated male genitals. The ugly, birthmarked face was Enos Hinton's, jeering at her maliciously.
Drenched with sweat, Alexandra woke in time to stifle her scream of terror and anguish. Then, while she realized she had merely been dreaming, she still felt the weight of the baby in her arms. She moved her arms, unable to dispel the feeling. An aftermath of crushing depression following the nightmare seemed like a dread warning.
In the bright sunlight of the next day, and when Bushranger Paddock was left behind, she was able to shrug off her oppressive sense of foreboding. The memory of the dream, with its disquieting reality, gradually faded to the back of her mind. There it joined other harrowing memories and feelings that had lingered in those far recesses ever since the fateful day she had left Camden Park in search of Elizabeth Macarthur and her father.
Chapter Nineteen
"In short, Mistress Ker
rick," Hermione Winthrop summed up, "Dierdre is an excellent student. As I've mentioned in my correspondence with you, she has an interest as well as talent in the arts. In time, perhaps she should pursue that by studying in England or Europe."
"Perhaps so, Headmistress," Alexandra replied doubtfully. "If she wishes to, I'll see that she has the opportunity to do so. As for my own preferences, however, I've already been separated from her too long, and I'm loath to encourage her to leave Australia."
The tall, thin headmistress of Sydenham Academy nodded in resigned acceptance of human weakness. With gray hair and eyes that matched the color of her meticulously neat, severely plain dress, she peered over her pince-nez as she continued discussing Dierdre with Alexandra. In charge of a large student body drawn from the far corners of the earth and ranging from ten to eighteen years old, all from affluent families that demanded a high standard from schools, she looked equal to her responsibilities.
While talking with the woman in her office, a portrait of the school's founder gazing down somberly from the paneled wall, Alexandra had learned that Dierdre had no problems that the staff knew about. Satisfied, she ended the conversation after a few more minutes. "It was very kind of you to receive me on such short notice, Headmistress," she said. "I've found our discussion enjoyable as well as informative."
"It's a distinct pleasure to receive you at any time, Mistress Kerrick. The games period should end momentarily. As soon as it does, I'll have your daughter sent to the visitors' parlor."
Alexandra thanked the headmistress, then left the office and went back downstairs. Having arrived in Sydney the previous night, she was taking care of her business in town, wearing a fashionable blue poplin dress with a pale blue brocade pattern on the bodice and a high, fitted neckline of pale blue lace. To go with it, she had put on a matching hat trimmed with pale blue tulle and blue kid gloves. Preferring the outback, she still remained completely at ease among the best circles that the capitol had to offer.
Sitting in the parlor, Alexandra waited with anticipation for Dierdre to arrive. A short time later, instead of the small child she had sent to the school, a tall, lovely girl in cricket whites entered the room, smiling excitedly. Dierdre gasped in delight, then she and Alexandra rushed to each other and embraced.
Tears of joy sprang to Alexandra's eyes as she clasped her daughter tightly and kissed her. Then they stepped back and looked at each other, Dierdre seeming vaguely and pleasantly surprised. "I didn't remember your being so absolutely beautiful, Mother," she blurted.
"I see that you've learned your social skills very well indeed," Alexandra teased her daughter, laughing merrily.
"No, I mean it," Dierdre insisted. "I've always thought of you as very attractive, of course, but . . ." Her voice fading, she searched for and was unable to find the words to describe her feelings.
Alexandra smiled wistfully, caressing her daughter's face. "I've always thought of you as the loveliest human being alive. The necessities of life can be so cruel. You must have an education, and yet I long to have you at my side every moment. I know that in your letters you've said that you're happy, but are you truly happy here, my dear?"
"Yes, I am, Mother. Like you, I'd prefer our being together. Failing that, it's very pleasant here. I have friends, and I enjoy my studies."
"Good. Come, let's sit down and talk, Dierdre."
They sat down on the couch and Alexandra held her daughter's hand. She let Dierdre talk, knowing she would have much to say, and she did. There was no hint of problems, and Alexandra searched behind the words for anything left unsaid. It was simply an outpouring of information about Dierdre's friends, amusing moments, and her school activities.
One of the friends she referred to several times was Alice Montague whose mother was the former Elizabeth Macarthur. Alexandra mentioned that Elizabeth was a close friend of hers from years ago, and Dierdre knew all about it. "Yes, Alice has told me that her mother speaks of you often," she said. "Also, her father is involved in business dealings with Morton."
"I understand he doesn't visit business associates, though."
"Morton?" Dierdre exclaimed, laughing. "No, if Morton accepted an invitation to dinner, he would take along one of his musty old ledgers to study over his soup. Business is his only interest, Mother."
Dierdre continued talking, and eventually got around to the subject of Clara Tavish. "I'm sure Auntie Martha told you about my conversation with the woman," she added, becoming apologetic. "I haven't seen her again. But if I do, I won't speak with her, of course."
"Why not? That would be most rude, Dierdre."
Her daughter was speechless for a moment in astonishment. "You mean you don't disapprove?" she asked, finding her tongue.
"I don't disapprove of your speaking with her, which isn't to say that you should make friends. As absurd as it can seem at times, one must consider one's reputation. But through knowing a poor woman who is on beam's ends in trying to provide for her children, perhaps you'll take greater care against the pitfalls of life." Alexandra laughed, shaking her head. "I do think, however, that you could have devised a more commonplace identity than Lady Dierdre Augusta Juliana Hanover, granddaughter of George III."
Dierdre smiled, studying Alexandra's face reflectively, then leaned over and kissed her. "Somehow I never realized before how wonderful you are, Mother. You're a very, very wonderful woman."
"No, I am merely one of God's creatures, Dierdre, with all of the imperfections to which human beings are heir. Now I must go and see your brother, but we'll have many talks while I'm here. Also, I'll arrange for us to have dinner several times with all of your cousins."
"It might be better if only you and I dined together. Melissa and her sisters aren't as warm as they once were because they're resentful toward Morton. They believe he could have done more for Uncle Creighton."
"Indeed?" Alexandra mused. "Yes, I should have foreseen that. Well, I'll attend to it, but the important point is that you and I will spend as much time as possible together while I'm here. I must leave now and visit your brother this afternoon, but I'll see you again tomorrow."
"Could you also have high tea here at the school at least once?" Dierdre asked eagerly. "Please do because I want all of my friends to meet you. I've always been very proud of you, but I want my friends to see just how extraordinarily wonderful you actually are, Mother."
Crucially important to her, her daughter's regard made Alexandra glow with pleasure. Hugging and kissing the girl, she assured her that she would visit with her and her school friends. Then they went to the entrance together, exchanging farewells, and Alexandra left.
As Alexandra drove her buggy to her hotel, the Sydney Arms, she realized that during the years since she had last seen Sydney, it had expanded enormously, both in size and amenities to match its status as a thriving colonial capitol. When she reached the end of High Street, a short distance from the school, she arrived at the hotel which was modeled on the Grand Hotel in London. Alexandra had a large, luxuriously-furnished room, overlooking the gardens at the rear, while the stockmen and jackaroos were quartered at an inn several streets away.
Alexandra eagerly entered the hotel for that morning, she had sent a jackaroo to deliver a request to call on the Baxters, along with Catherine's letters to her parents. At the front desk, she found an invitation from Auberta Baxter to call at her convenience. Alexandra had a leisurely lunch in the quiet, elegant dining room, then went to see Morton.
The half-timbered building in the business district where years before she had occasionally come to see her brother while he had been at work was unchanged and stirred fond memories. Inside, apprentices still worked over ledgers and correspondence at tall desks,
just like then. But instead of Creighton, the man talking with a head clerk was her son.
Of medium height, his expensive, expertly-tailored clothes drew attention away from his paunchiness from too little physical activity. His face was somewhat fleshy and brooding, his blond
hair and piercing, pale blue eyes his most arresting features. But to Alexandra, he was as beloved and no less striking than his tall, handsome brother.
Morton turned to her, the surprise on his face changing to a smile that made her heart warm with joy. Her intense love for him swelling within her, she yearned to take him in her arms, but he had always been undemonstrative, particularly when others were present. She forced herself to kiss him on the cheek as she greeted him, and Morton did the same.
After introducing her to his employees, he led her toward his office. ''This is most unexpected," he commented. "What brings you to Sydney?"
Alexandra told him some of the reasons for her journey, sensing a change in his mood. His surprise and pleasure upon first seeing her became defensiveness, an all too common attitude of his. "Most of all, however," she said as she finished, "it's been far too long since I've seen you and Dierdre."
As he seated her in the chair beside the desk, she saw in his eyes the reserve that she knew so well and dreaded so much. "And you wish to condemn me about Clara Tavish, no doubt," he suggested, sitting in his chair.
"Condemn? That's a very harsh term, Morton."
"Perhaps, but it fits a great portion of our conversations over the years. When I was a boy, you censured me incessantly."
"I consider that too harsh a term as well, but let it stand. If you will, consider for a moment my purpose. I wanted to help you learn to control your unruly temper, help you find what you wanted in life, and then help you bring your energies to bear upon it. I believe I succeeded."
Morton looked away, pondering for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Yes, you did," he acknowledged musingly. "I suppose I never realized all that before, but then you never told me about it, did you? If you had explained that, Mother, it would have been easier for both of us."
Outback Station Page 39
