"If it rains or the wind blows up we have the hood for protection. And we don't want the dust along the road spoiling your delightful gown, do we?" He looked up to where pink and red streaks colored the sky and a few puffy clouds billowed. "Though by the looks of it the Governor has a mighty fine night for his ball."
"So that's where Dougal went. To fetch this rig." She ran a hand wonderingly over the polished seat and leather bindings.
"Aye. Now, let's go to the party, eh?" He grinned as he took up the reins and clicked his tongue. "'Tis a good thing the night is fine, Bella, else your fancy hair arrangement would get spoiled. Did I mention it looks grand piled up like that?"
"No." She put a hand self-consciously to the curls over her ear.
The cockatoos squawked as the rig bowled past. The well-known scenery and wildlife took on a feeling of unreality, as if they were moving into a strange new territory.
Tiger took them along Macquarie Street, past the Rum Hospital. So called, he'd said, because the Governor contracted the head surgeon and two men of business to build it with the right to import spirits instead of taking payment in cash.
Isabella gasped when Government House came into view. Darkness was falling and the brightly lit house reminded her of a story her mother told her long ago about a princess who'd lived in a tower made of glass.
Of course she'd seen the grand mansion from a distance, but tonight it added to the dreamlike quality of everything. Like a child receiving a surprise gift, she smiled and clapped her hands together in pleasure as they neared the gardens. Guards stood to attention, their weapons perched on their shoulders.
"That's better," Tiger commented, his eyes twinkling.
"What?" Isabella tipped her head. They'd travelled in silence for most of the journey.
"I was beginning to think you'd be glowering all evening. You should smile more often, Bella."
"I suppose you're going to tell me it makes me look more beautiful," she retorted.
"As a matter of fact it does," he told her agreeably.
Isabella made a soft deprecating sound in her throat.
"Why do you always do that? One day I'll convince you of your own worth."
She kept quiet. His compliments confused her.
"The house looks wonderful, doesn't it?" she asked instead, and he cocked an eyebrow, completely aware of her change of subject.
Tiger maneuvered the rig between the rows of carriages, buggies, gigs and phaetons and passed the reins to a waiting boy. Tossing the lad a coin, he jumped down then turned to assist Isabella. She was trembling as he lowered her to the ground.
"Nervous?" he asked softly.
"Yes," she whispered, touching the tendrils of hair at her temple.
Tiger covered her hand with his. "Leave it. It looks fine." He smiled down at her. "Do you know that's the first time since we met you've been truly honest with me." He leant close and whispered in her ear, "Well, I have a confession to make. I'm nervous too."
"You? Don't tell tales. You've never been nervous in your life."
"That's what you think. I may put on a good show of it now. Enough to convince people I'm brash and confident, but that's what it is: a good show."
"You convince people you're brash and confident because you are. I reckon you were self-satisfied in your cot."
"No, Bella my girl. I have my insecurities same as everyone else." He put her gloved hand in the crook of his arm and led her along the path to the front entrance where they joined the queue of guests.
Lights spilled from the long ground floor windows, illuminating the courtyard. Footmen in matching uniforms of blue with gold trimmings, and fancy powdered wigs, stood waiting stiffly by the door, full of their own importance. One took the invitation card Tiger drew out of his inside jacket pocket. He stared at it, nodded once, then gave both of them a thorough perusal before telling them to go in.
Tiger concealed his amusement as Isabella's eyes wandered over the great hall. She was obviously fascinated, her eyes brilliant. Something else besides laughter leapt to life inside him at her innocent enjoyment. How long had it been since he'd experienced such naïve pleasure? Perhaps he never had; his experiences had made him too cynical. It was a wonder hers hadn't tainted her in the same way, but she still preserved an almost childlike quality that only revealed itself at times like this.
Giant pots held sprigs of banksia and wattle, some hung with fancy baubles. Everywhere were wall hangings of the finest fabrics and tapestries depicting winter scenes to remind everyone of Christmases in a colder land; a land where snow covered the ground during the festive season, and holly, pine, and mistletoe decorated the halls, instead of these native plants. Wooden bells and stars and painted carved animals dangled from the ceiling beams.
Tiger had seen it all before but it was new to Isabella. She let out a soft, "Oh," then turned her attention to the other guests. The women wore splendid gowns of silk, velvet and lace, the men were decked out in their finery.
"It's all so. . ." Words apparently, for once, failed her. Tiger touched the small hand on his arm. She gripped him as if frightened he'd disappear if she let go. Her eyes rapt, she feasted on every detail.
"A bit daunting, eh?" Tiger led her forward until they were in the line waiting to meet the Governor. She was shaking again, and when he looked down saw a tremor in her bottom lip. But she lifted her chin, and pride filled him.
"That's my Bella," he bent to whisper as they inched forward. She sent him a tremulous smile and he pressed her hand against his side, watching the expression in her eyes change to wariness at this show of possessiveness.
"Mister Carstairs and Mistress Isabella O'Shea," the footman bellowed as they reached the front of the queue.
Governor Macquarie smiled benignly as he shook Tiger's hand. "Good to see you again, Carstairs," he said.
"Sir." Tiger bowed. "I trust you're keeping well, Governor."
"Fit as can be, my good man." The Governor turned to Isabella. "Welcome to Government House, Mistress O'Shea. I trust you will enjoy yourself."
"Thank you, Your Excellency. I'm sure I will." Isabella curtsied before the Governor as Thelma had taught her. Then her bemusement increased as she was introduced to his wife. Elizabeth Macquarie wore a dress of black velvet, its scooped neckline trimmed with a white flounce. Around her neck she wore a necklace of diamonds, a fortune in precious stones.
"How is your son, madam?" Isabella asked. Thelma had prompted the question. The entire colony was aware of the Macquarie's pride in their boy, a pride magnified because their first child died at three months, before Lachlan Macquarie was appointed Governor.
"How sweet of you to ask," Elizabeth Macquarie answered with a smile. "Lachlan is my great joy. He has known his letters for more than a year now, since he was three years old. I am convinced he will be a great scholar."
"I'm sure he will, madam" Isabella agreed, then Tiger moved her smoothly on.
"I can't believe I really met the Governor and his wife," she whispered.
"You really did," he said. There was a teasing light in his eyes that sent her pulses reeling. "Come, let's dance," he offered as they entered the ballroom.
Draperies of deep blue dropped in lush folds at the long windows, secured by golden ropes with heavily tasseled ends. The plush padding on the gold legged chairs and sofas arranged around the sides of the immense room was of the same color.
A quartet of musicians positioned on a small dais in a corner wore matching black jackets over flounced white shirts and black breeches. Isabella vaguely recognized the melody they played. Many couples were already waltzing. Tiger had told her about this exciting new dance currently very popular in Europe. She longed to give it a try, even while she shivered with apprehension. The gowns were splendid, their skirts swirling as their partners spun them around. So many silks and muslin, in every conceivable color, met, meshed then swung apart, reminding her of a kaleidoscope she'd once seen. In their finery and jewels the women exuded a confid
ence she doubted she would ever feel.
"'Tis better to have this first one with me than to begin with a quadrille where you will be off with other partners," Tiger said, his mouth near her ear. Did he feel the tremors that raced through her?
"No." Isabella's eyes went to the dancers again, then up to him. With a hand at the base of her throat she swallowed the distressing lump threatening to choke her. She had no intention of being off with other partners; the thought of dancing with him was daunting enough.
Ignoring her small denial he led her onto the floor. "Just remember what I taught you. Follow my lead. Don't worry, I will not let you make a fool of either of us, little one."
"Tiger."
He chuckled softly at her husky whisper. Isabella glanced at his curved lips.
"Isabella," he murmured, and her eyes widened. He'd never called her that before. She was usually a wench, chit, or biddy, if not Bella.
"Yes?"
"That's the first time you've called me Tiger." He stared at her oddly. Isabella ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips at the strange glitter in his eyes.
His hold on her tightened. By now they were in the middle of the great hall, surrounded by other couples, each so engrossed in their own partners nobody appeared to have the slightest interest in a woman with a limp. That didn't seem half as pronounced this evening either. Isabella presumed the looks cast their way were directed at the tall, elegantly dressed man who deftly guided her, his paces sure, his demeanor confident. It was as it had been in the kitchen. He led and she followed.
"There, easy isn't it?"
"I think perhaps everything you do is made to appear easy," she said pertly, and his grin widened.
Isabella didn't want the dance to end, but the music stopped much too soon. "You're always right," she told him with a lift of the chin. It had been so easy she wanted to go on dancing all night.
Tiger led her to the side of the hall, his hand on her elbow as he slowed his gait to match hers. "Come, we'll meet some of my friends," he said. Isabella stifled an urge to escape to the ladies' parlor. Tiger must have sensed her unease for he said softly, "Don't worry. It will be all right."
And when he introduced her, she wondered why she'd gone into a panic. Nobody seemed to think it extraordinary he'd brought one of his servants to the ball. In fact after a few minutes of conversation it became clear to Isabella that a good many of the guests were emancipists. This fact was a sore point with the free settlers, who kept themselves apart in their own little clique.
"How they jostle for the opportunity to pass the time with the Governor and his good lady," one man remarked with a smirk.
But Isabella noticed the Governor was totally impartial and spoke easily with every group. "I can't believe he mingles with everyone, no matter their station," she whispered to Tiger.
"Macquarie has upset not a few free settlers with his forward thinking, Bella. He makes no bones about his concept that once a sentence is served, ex-convicts should be helped to take part in the growth of the colony. After all, we make up a large percentage of the population. And yon is Thompson. He was made Magistrate, infuriating some. See that fellow there and the man in grey talking to the matron in purple silk." Tiger pointed discreetly, and she nodded. "They're both in public service positions. Caused quite a few squabbles among the so-called gentry too. Even some of the officers in the King's Corps frown on the Governor treating all people in the colony as equals."
"How long since he came here?"
"He's been Governor for nine years come the New Year, and he's made his presence felt. He's done great things for the colony, built many fine buildings with Greenway's knowledge. He was responsible for our first bank, and for importing ten thousand pounds' worth of Spanish dollars." Tiger took a coin from his pocket and turned it over in his fingers. "That's where we got our holey dollar from."
"Thelma told me about the way he had the middle punched out of them." Isabella touched it with a finger.
"Aye. And, most important of all, his vision of extending the colony beyond the mountains has become reality." Tiger popped the coin back in his pocket.
Overhearing, one of Tiger's friends asked, "How long before we're to be allowed to move inland, d'you reckon? Is land to be granted only to the damned Exclusives?"
Isabella knew that was the name given to the free settlers who thought they were a cut above the emancipists.
While Tiger discussed all possibilities with his friend, she watched the proceedings with interest.
When there was a lull in the conversation she commented, "Mrs. Macquarie's lovely." She'd been noting how that lady wandered from group to group on her husband's arm, graciously acknowledging everyone.
"Aye, she is. Rumor has it the lady is a lover of bonnets, an' when she wishes the ear of her husband while he is in his office she's been known to toss one of them in. If he sends the bonnet flying out she takes it as a sign he's busy."
Isabella laughed. "Is this true, sir, or do you tease me?"
"Aye 'tis what I've been told." Tiger nodded seriously, but Isabella noted his eyes twinkled.
"And what if he doesn't toss the bonnet out the door?" she asked.
"Why, then the good lady goes right in, I suppose, and states her business. She's said to be very interested in gardening and agriculture. 'Tis said she brought books with her from Scotland, and has helped her husband plan all the buildings he's had built."
He reached for her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm again. Isabella shot him a glance of surprise, but he seemed to ignore it, keeping her hand firmly on his arm by placing his own warm one atop it.
"Can't beat a good woman's aid, eh, Tiger?" a man named Perkins commented, nudging the man next to him and winking.
"No doubt a woman has many uses." Tiger grinned down at Isabella. Blushing, she frowned and tried to retrieve her trapped hand, but he refused to relinquish it.
"Heard old Frobisher's getting spliced after the new year." Perkins sighed dramatically. "They get their talons into us one way or another." He shrugged and Isabella shot him a look of disdain, as did the young girl at his side who'd been introduced as his cousin from England, recently arrived in the colony.
"What say you, Tiger? When you thinking of taking a wife, eh?" Speculatively he ran his eyes over Isabella.
Tiger looked around. "Seems here in the colony a man has to get himself tied to a woman whether 'tis his fancy or not. I have it in mind to pick one of those prissy young maidens eyeing us to work out which one of us is the better catch."
For a moment Isabella felt quite ill. True, Thelma had acquainted her with Tiger's intentions, and he'd certainly made no secret of his desire to marry a nob's daughter. But stated so bluntly it sent her hopes plummeting. It was sickening that so many women were at this very moment literally ogling the available men. And their eyes rested on Tiger more than any other man present. But why should she be so upset? Tiger wouldn't give her a second thought as far as marriage went. No, one day she would have to face up to the stark truth and settle for second best.
"I reckon our little Prudence Bacon would be about the best choice. What say you, Tiger?" a man named Barclay said snidely, nodding to a young woman in a purple gown that did not flatter her at all. "The wench is due to inherit a tidy sum on her old man's death, which shouldn't be too far into the future, or so I hear. Her Mama is a dragon, but once you get everything signed and sealed you can pack her off back to England out of your way."
Tiger glanced across at the woman under discussion. Isabella gave him a look of scorn and he shrugged his broad shoulders.
"Come, Bella, they are playing a simple reel, let's dance."
"I'm tired." She refused to meet his eyes. They both knew she lied.
"This evening no one is allowed to be tired." Pressing a hand over hers, he nodded to the group at large and escorted her to where the other dancers were forming. Her earlier joyousness had faded and she began to falter, tripping on his feet.
"I do
n't want to do this," she mumbled.
Tiger merely shrugged. "You're an obstinate little chit, and for once in your life you will just obey me and enjoy yourself." He grinned at her so devilishly she was forced to return his grin with a small one of her own.
"And you’re the most insufferably arrogant man it's ever been my misfortune to meet."
"Aye," he agreed. "We do tend to be a bit like the blacksmith with his anvil, don't we? Each sending sparks off the other."
His mouth twisted ruefully, and she concentrated on the wall beyond his shoulder. Right at this moment the sparks flying between them would fair set her alight. But he was set on marrying the likes of Prudence Bacon, so why was she letting him have this effect on her? Fool.
"Why aren't you off dancing with the miss in the purple gown who will likely be your bride?"
"Plenty of time," he said, maneuvering her into a fancy turn. "The night is young."
Isabella's heart sank like a stone. That was why he'd brought her along this night. It had little to do with liking her company. He wanted to court Miss Prudence Bacon and couldn't do that if he'd brought his mistress.
When the dance finished he handed Isabella into the care of his friend Barclay, an insipid man with an oversized impression of his own importance, while he danced with the colorless Prudence Bacon. Isabella refused Barclay's invitation to dance. She doubted she would be able to manage one turn around the floor on anyone's arm but Tiger's.
"Would you care to go in for supper now?"
Isabella jumped as Tiger touched her elbow. The man moved with the stealth of the animal he was named after.
Silently she allowed him to escort her into the banquet room, where an array of food was laid out on spotless white linen cloths. From then onwards Tiger remained by her side. Isabella decided she would forget about all the wealthy maidens watching him avidly and pretend he was hers, if only for this one night. Like a princess allowed one fragment of time with her prince she took each moment and wrapped it into a part of her heart to be taken out and examined once the dream was over.
Mystic Mountains Page 12
