“That will take a little time.”
“I reckon I’ve got that little time left to me. I just won’t go until I’ve seen you and my boy Joss joined together in holy matrimony.”
“Ben,” I said, “if you love us, how can you ask so much of us?”
“It’s just because I do love you both that I’m making this bargain. Years ahead when you and the family are visiting England and you’re sitting on those lawns, the like of which you don’t see outside this green land, there’ll be the shade of old Ben looking on with contentment because it’s all come about as he meant it to. I’ll be here…and I’ll be at Peacocks…a happy ghost who saw what should be and did his little bit to make it come about.”
“You’re tired, Ben,” I said.
“Happy tired. A good sort of tired to be. And don’t forget, in years to come, remember me.”
“I’m never going to forget you.”
“And you’ll be grateful to old Ben, I promise you.”
I kissed him gently and slipped away.
I knew as I went out of Oakland Hall that I was about to burn my boats. I had accepted this incongruous situation. I was going to marry Joss Madden.
***
I don’t know what Joss said to my grandmother. He was in the drawing room with her, my grandfather, and Xavier for an hour. From my bedroom window I saw him stride across the lawn to the bridge. He walked as though the place already belonged to him.
Maddy was knocking at my door. They wanted to see me in the drawing room, she said.
As I entered I was aware of the change in their attitude towards me. I had become important, but my grandmother was not going to show me her gratification too readily.
“So,” she began, “you have clandestinely been meeting this man from the wilds.”
“If you mean Mr. Josslyn Madden, it is true I have been meeting him.”
“And become engaged to him! He did not ask our consent before asking you, which would have been the proper thing to do. But I suppose we cannot expect good manners from people brought up as he must have been.”
“He has been educated in England.”
She grudgingly admitted that she realized this saving grace.
“Of course after all we have done for you we might have expected a little gratitude. When our terrible tragedy was brought upon us”—she sent a venomous look towards my grandfather, who nodded in a rather jaunty way, I fancied—“we had to prepare ourselves for our great sacrifice. Our daughter disgraced us, and now Miriam has committed herself to a life of penury.”
“I always thought she endured that here.”
“Compared with what she was accustomed to before our fortune was wantonly thrown away, Miriam once lived in grace and dignity with her family.” She laughed. “Now this cottage. I believe she scrubs the floors.” She shivered. “No matter. Don’t let us distress ourselves by even mentioning Miriam’s folly. The fact is that you should have kept me informed. After all we did for you, giving you a home…”
“And selling the silver salver and the George IV punch bowl.”
She smiled—very rare with her and this was an indication of her true feelings. “At least you have spared us the humiliation of seeing you scrub floors and living in abject poverty. I only hope this offer is genuine. You will not, I hope, inconvenience us as your mother did. If it is genuine, all may not turn out too badly. But I must let you know that I am displeased that you should associate with people who have been no friends to your grandfather. However, I can see the hand of fate in this. We have suffered great misfortune. We lost Oakland…and if this man is telling the truth, he will in due course inherit the Hall in which case you as his wife will live there.”
I thought she was like an eagle about to pounce on its prey. Oakland Hall coming back to the family…and through me!
I couldn’t help being thrilled that I was doing this. I knew then that if a way out was offered me, if Ben said he had been joking after all, I wouldn’t want to take it. The extraordinary fact was borne home that I wanted the excitement of marrying Joss Madden—providing of course that we kept to that all-important clause which he had laughingly acknowledged he would respect and which Ben had thrust aside as though he did not believe it was important.
Xavier spoke then. “Mr. Madden has told us that he has asked you to marry him and that you have accepted. We understand he is Mr. Henniker’s heir and that Oakland as well as property in Australia will pass to him. They ask for no dowry for you, but Mr. Henniker will make a settlement on you of Blueberry Farm, which as you know went to him with the Oakland estate. The management of this will be left to me, so it is in a measure as though the land has been returned to us. It seems to be a very satisfactory arrangement.”
My grandfather’s eyes looked watery. “It’s almost like Oakland coming back to us through you, Jessica,” he said.
My grandmother would not be left out of the conversation.
“In spite of your deception, this seems to have turned out better than we could have expected,” she said. “I hope your children will be born here. Perhaps we could get Mr. Madden to change his name to Clavering. That has been done before in the family.”
“I know that would be quite impossible.”
My grandmother waved the matter aside as though that was something she would deal with later.
“We must be practical,” she went on. “It must be a wedding worthy of the old days before we were reduced to this. I think we should sell the silver candlesticks so that we can do everything as it should be done. As you know the candlesticks were given by William IV to Jeremy Clavering in 1832, and they are worth a great deal.”
“Then please don’t sell them on my account.”
“It is not on your account but for the good name of the family. Oh dear, how I wish you could be married from Oakland itself.”
“Never mind, Mother,” said Xavier, “perhaps Jessica’s daughter will be.”
“Pray let us get her married first before we mention such things,” said my grandmother, forgetting that a moment before she had done so. I had never seen her look so pleased, and the knowledge that it was due to me seemed very ironical.
The next Sunday, Ernest, officiating for Rev. Jasper Crey, read out the banns.
***
Ben seemed to recover quite a bit. It was obvious that he was delighted, and his pleasure seemed to give him a new energy.
“So they read the banns,” he cried. “So there was no opposition from the family. I should think not! See what this means to them.”
My grandmother had engaged a dressmaker and I was to have a white satin wedding gown—the best possible satin from Liberty. My grandmother made a journey up to London to buy that and other materials on the proceeds from the silver candlesticks.
“I hope William IV won’t haunt you in his displeasure,” I commented.
“You are much too flippant,” was her retort. “You always were. You will have to be more sober when you marry.”
“I can’t change my nature, Grandmother,” I said.
She sighed, but even she could not criticize me too much, considering the change I had brought about in the family fortunes.
I stood for hours while the seamstress, her mouth full of pins, fitted my dresses, for I had to have a trousseau besides the wedding dress. “We don’t want people in Australia to think we’re savages,” said my grandmother. She was determined that I should go not only adequately but elegantly clothed.
The banns had been called twice and the excitement at the prospect was beginning to be replaced by apprehension. Joss Madden had to spend a week in London negotiating some business, and I felt easier in my mind when he was not there.
When he returned, however, he seemed determined to spend a good deal of time with me. “Doing his courting,” as Ben described it to my chagrin.
Joss said: “We’d better get to know each other, as this wedding is imminent. How good are you on a horse? You’ll have to ride a good deal in Australia.”
I said that I had been taught to ride but had little opportunity of doing so. There had been a pony, but when that died it had not been replaced. We only had one horse now, which Xavier used.
“There’s a small stable at Oakland,” he said, “I’ll take you riding. I want to see what you can do.”
I immediately felt resentful, objecting to his patronizing manner.
He chose my mount, a brown horse with a frisky look in his eyes which made me somewhat apprehensive. Our pony had been of about thirteen hands, and I had never ridden a better steed.
I was about to protest when I caught his eyes on me—amused, a little triumphant, so superior and arrogant—every inch the peacock.
I mounted uneasily. He said: “These horses need exercise. They’re too fat. Riding here is different from riding in Australia. You’ll have to get used to the difference because you’re lost without a horse in the Bush.”
“Is this house Peacocks in the Bush then?”
“It’s in its own grounds and Fancy Town is about two miles away. Surrounding all this is some pretty wild country. You’ll need to feel as much at home in the saddle as you do on your own two feet.”
My equestrian knowledge was not great, but it was obvious even to me that he chose the finest horse in the stable for himself. As we walked our horses side by side I could feel his eyes on me appraisingly—my posture, my hands, my heels, everything…and that smile which I hated played about his lips.
“In other words,” he was saying, “you could loosely say that we live in the saddle.”
“Have you a good stable at Peacocks?”
“It would be hard to find a better in Australia.”
“Naturally,” I commented.
“Oh yes, naturally.”
“So you ride everywhere?”
“Yes, everywhere. There are Cobb’s coaches which ply between the big cities. I rarely use them. You’ll find the country different out there, I can tell you.”
“I expected to.”
“This…why, it’s like a garden. You don’t go far without some sort of habitation. And these little fields and roads…oh, it’s very different.”
“So you have said more than once.”
“Then I must apologize for repeating myself.”
“A common fault,” I said lightly, to remind him that he was not without them, which I was sure he imagined himself to be.
He broke into a canter, and I tried to follow him, but my horse refused. Instead he lowered his head suddenly and gripped a bush by the roadside.
“Come on,” I whispered urgently. “He’ll laugh at us.”
But the horse seemed determined to mock me too.
Joss Madden turned and I heard that quick gust of laughter. “Come on, Joker,” he said, and the response was immediate. The sly Joker immediately relinquished the bush and went on with an injured air as though to say: What can you expect me to do with this amateur on my back?
“You have to control your horse, you know,” said Joss, smiling, well pleased with Joker’s cooperation.
“I’m very well aware of that,” I retorted.
“He knows who’s the master. You see, I only had to call his name and he obeyed.”
“I’ve never seen this horse before,” I protested.
“He’s a little mischievous when he thinks he can get away with it. It’s understandable. Now, Joker, no more nonsense. You’ll do what the lady tells you. Come on.”
I hated that morning because I sensed that he was trying to show me how inferior I was. He proved that to me more than once. There was one occasion when he galloped across a meadow and called Joker to follow. I thought he was hoping I’d fall and break my neck. It was maddening that he should be commanding my horse, and when it sped after him I knew that I couldn’t control it and the thought came into my mind: He’s trying to kill me so that he won’t have to marry me. If I’m dead Ben won’t cut him out. He’ll get the precious Company without having to pay the price—marriage—for it. Oh, he is so arrogant. He’s nothing more than a peacock…flaunting his superiority as a peacock flaunts its tail.
He was beside me suddenly. He had seized my bridle and for a few moments we galloped side by side. When we stopped he was laughing at me.
“I’ll have to teach you to ride,” he said, “and I’ll do so before we leave. You can’t go out to Australia like this.”
“Don’t you think it would be a good idea if we abandoned the whole thing?” I asked.
“What! With the dress being made, the banns being called…” He was serious suddenly. “Besides, what of Ben?”
“I hate it all,” I said vehemently.
“You mean you hate me?”
“You can look at it that way if you like.”
“A firm basis on which to build a marriage,” he mocked. “Feelings often change, they say, afterwards, so at least yours can’t change for the worse since they are as bad as they can possibly be before.”
“Isn’t the whole thing rather farcical?”
“Life often is rather farcical.”
“Rarely as much as this ridiculous wedding.”
“Don’t you think it makes it rather piquant? You and I will go to church and take our vows and everything we vow to do we shall be promising ourselves not to do. Marriage is for the procreation of children. That comes in the service. But for us…marriage in name only.”
“Your expression,” I said.
“It’s a good one. It conveys the meaning as well as anything could. To love and to cherish, we shall say, and here are you telling me you hate me.”
“You’re giving very adequate reasons why the whole thing should be called off.”
“But we’re not going to, are we? We’re two sensible people—don’t you agree? There’s too much to gain and too much to lose. We’re better off making the best of it. Who knows, I might succeed in making a tolerable horsewoman of you and you might succeed in keeping me at a distance.” His eyes glittered suddenly, and I saw the pride there which I was beginning to think was his main characteristic. He was put out because I was not attracted by his virility…or masculinity…whatever it was. “Let me say,” he said with a hint of anger in his voice, “I think the latter will be easier to achieve than the former.”
We walked our horses back to Oakland—a pace, he commented dryly, more suited to my accomplishments.
I certainly hated him, and he appeared to despise me. Well, there was no need to fret about that, for I should not have to worry about his forcing his attentions on me; and because he had made this so obvious I began, perversely, to hope that he might—solely that I could have the pleasure of rebuffing him.
***
The servants were excited about the wedding. Miriam was making the wedding cake; my grandmother continued to be slightly benign towards me and my grandfather regarded me as the savior of the family fortunes. Ben would lie in his bed or sit in his chair chuckling to himself. It was certainly a popular wedding—with everyone except the bride and groom!
Twice a day Joss insisted that I ride with him.
“It’s a necessity,” he said. “You must know how to master a horse before you get to Australia.”
I saw the wisdom of this and decided to put up with his patronizing attitude. I worked hard, and I was sure that I was an apt pupil. Not that he would admit when I showed improvement. He seemed to enjoy humiliating me.
Once skilled, I promised myself, I should be independent of him, and I was really beginning to enjoy riding as I never had before. He never complimented me; and I inwardly accused him of showing off. To myself I always referred to him as Peacock.
At last my wedding day arrived. It was like a dream,
standing there at the altar while the Rev. Jasper Crey married us. I felt a shiver of emotion as Joss slipped the ring on my finger and I couldn’t quite define it. Apprehension was certainly there, but if I was honest with myself I would have to admit that if I could have canceled it, I shouldn’t have wanted to.
Ben was in the church. Banker had wheeled him there. I could imagine his contentment. His will had been done.
Miriam at the organ played the Wedding March, and as I came up the aisle later on the arm of Joss Madden, aware of those watching us—Xavier, my grandfather and grand-mother—gleams of contentment in their eyes, I remembered my grandmother’s saying that God had brought Oakland Hall back to the family because of all they had done for me. It was His reward for their virtue.
We went to the Dower House, where the reception was held, and when it was over Joss and I walked across the bridge to Oakland Hall.
Ben was in his bedroom, but he had left word that he wanted to see us as soon as we came in. He was sitting up in bed and his eyes were shining.
“You two have made Ben Henniker a very happy man today,” he said. “Come and sit on either side of me. There, that’s good. Give me your hands. You’re going to bless me for this day. Before it’s over there’s something I want to say to you and I’ve been saving it up till now.”
“You’re exhausted, Ben,” I said. “You should rest.”
“Not till I’ve told you this. You know the story of the Green Flash. You know how I took it to Australia with me all the time, pretending it was lost. I had to have a hiding place for it. You’re the only two who’ll know where that hiding place is. It belongs to you both now. Now this hiding place…I made it myself…so that no one else should be in the picture. Ha, that’s a joke. You know ‘The Pride of the Peacock’ in the drawing room, Joss. It was always a favorite of yours. It’s a picture, Jessie, of our lawn, and there’s a magnificent peacock on it, looking as a peacock does. Look-at-me attitude. Don’t you think I’m the most wonderful creature in the world? This picture is set in a beautiful frame…carved wood and gilt. It’s a thick frame…a very thick frame. At the right-hand corner of the frame, there’s a spring catch. No one would know it was there. It’s so cunningly placed. You touch the spring and the back opens like a door. There’s a cavity there and wrapped up in cotton wool is the Green Flash. I’ve locked myself in that room many a time and I’ve taken it out and gloated over it. Well, that stone is yours when I die…yours jointly. It’ll be up to you to do what you like with it.”