David Croissant had several blankets with him, so we were able to sleep more comfortably in the shelter of the burned-out inn.
We set out at dawn and I rode between the two men into the sunrise; and later that day we arrived at the town which was so named because of my father’s certainty that he had found a prosperous opal field. And that day, for the first time, I saw my new home: Peacocks.
Peacocks
Fancy Town had sprung up on the banks of a creek which nature, by great good fortune, had set near the opal field. Some of the workers lived in calico tents, but there were a few huts made of logs or mud bricks with rough chimneys of clay or bark; and the shops were like sheds open on one side that their goods might be displayed. After the wide open spaces it was rather a depressing sight.
It was late afternoon when we arrived and the excitement our coming aroused indicated that visits were rare occurrences. Children came running out to stare at us—rather unkempt, most of them, which wasn’t surprising, since the only homes they had were those huts and tents.
A man called to Joss: “Glad to see you back, sir.”
“Thanks, Mac,” answered Joss.
“Sorry about Mr. Henniker, sir.”
Peacocks was about a mile from the town, and what a contrast it made to that poor place. We turned into a gate, and before us lay a drive of about a quarter of a mile to the house, which was built in the old Colonial style—gracious and shining white in the clean air. The porch and terrace were supported by rather ornate pillars which had a Grecian touch, but the house itself was periodless—it had something Gothic, Queen Anne, and Tudor about it—and the intermingling was not without charm.
A peacock appropriately appeared on the lawn followed by his meek little peahen; he strutted along beside the terrace as though asking for our admiration. The lawns were so immaculately kept that one would have thought they had been there for hundreds of years. In fact the immediate impression was that the house was posing as an ancient mansion, which it obviously could not have been, but was not quite sure which age it was meant to represent.
“Take the horses, Tom,” said Joss. “Who’s at home?”
“Mrs. Laud, sir, Mr. Jimson, and Miss Lilias.”
“Well, let someone tell them we’ve arrived.”
We dismounted and Joss took my arm as we went up the steps to the porch, David Croissant following. The door was open so we stepped into the hall. It was cool inside the house, for the thin wooden Venetian blinds were slatted to shut out the fierce sunlight. The hall was large and lofty with a floor of mosaic paving all in peacock blue. In the center was one large flagstone in which was depicted a magnificent peacock.
“The motif of the house,” said Joss, following my gaze. “Ben decided to call the house Peacocks and to have plenty of the aforementioned strutting around. I’d like to tell you that Peacocks will always belong to this family as long as there are peacocks here, but it wouldn’t be any use, for we don’t have those legends and old traditions here. We’re too young a country. One thing Ben was determined on and that was that everyone who set foot in the house would know it was Peacocks. There’s something to remind you everywhere.”
There was a wide staircase winding up from the hall, and I saw a woman standing there watching us. She must have been standing there for some seconds listening to Joss’s explanation.
He saw her as soon as I did. “Ah, Mrs. Laud,” he said.
She came down the stairs—a tall, slender woman with fine, graying hair which she wore parted in the center and brought down to a knob in the nape of her neck. Her gown was of gray—high-necked with a very clean white collar and cuffs. The utmost simplicity of her dress gave her the appearance of a Quaker.
“Mrs. Laud!” cried Joss. “I’ve got a surprise for you. This is my wife.”
She turned a shade paler and clutched at the banister as though to support herself. She looked bewildered, and then a faint smile touched her lips. “It’s one of your jokes, Mr. Madden,” she said.
Joss slipped his arm through mine and drew me forward. “No joke at all, is it, Jessica? We were married in England. Ben came to our wedding.”
She came down the stairs rather slowly. Her face had puckered a little, and for a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears.
She said shakily: “The sad news of Mr. Henniker’s death reached us only a week ago. You didn’t mention…your marriage.”
“No. That was to be a surprise.”
She came forward and I held out my hand, which she took gently in her own. “What will you think of me? I had no idea…We have all been so sad. We have lost a good friend and master.”
“I share your sadness,” I told her. “I felt he was my very good friend.”
“Mr. Croissant is with us, as you see,” said Joss. “We picked him up on the journey from Sydney. Are Jimson and Lilias at home?”
“They’re somewhere in the house. I’ve sent one of the servants to look for them. I am sure they will be here shortly.”
“Mrs. Laud will be able to tell you all you want to know about the house, Jessica,” said Joss.
“I shall be very interested to learn,” I answered.
Mrs. Laud smiled at me almost ingratiatingly. I remembered what Ben had told me about her and was expecting someone of a more dominating nature. She appeared gentle, and her voice was soft and soothing.
“I think we’d better have some refreshment,” said Joss.
“What am I thinking of,” said Mrs. Laud, fluttering her hands helplessly. “I’m so shaken…by all this. First Mr. Henniker’s death…”
“And then this marriage,” said Joss. “I know. But you’ll get used to it. We’ll all get used to it.”
“I’ll get them to make some tea,” said Mrs. Laud. “Dinner will be served in an hour or so, unless you would like me to put it forward.”
“We had chicken and johnnycakes on the road,” said Joss, “so tea will do and then we’ll wait for dinner.”
Mrs. Laud opened a door and we were in a drawing room. It had long windows which reached from floor to a ceiling which was beautifully molded; the room was lofty and the curtains were of the same tinge as a peacock’s feathers, but the daylight was shut out as the blinds were drawn. Mrs. Laud went to them at once and opened the slats so that the room was brighter.
My eyes immediately went to the picture of the peacock hanging on the wall. Joss’s did the same; our eyes met, and a tremendous wave of excitement passed between us. The Green Flash at Sunset was hidden in that picture and we were going to take the first opportunity of seeing it.
There was a cabinet in this room in which were black-velvet-covered shelves and on the shelves were not polished stones but different types of rock with streaks of opal in them.
Joss saw me looking at them and said: “That was Ben’s idea. Everything in there meant something to him. They have all come from different mines which were important to him. Ah, here’s Jimson.”
Jimson Laud was a man who I reckoned to be about Joss’s age; he had the same gentle manner as his mother.
“Jimson, this is my wife,” said Joss.
Jimson was startled, as well he might be, I thought. Joss grinned at me, obviously enjoying his surprise. “We seem to have delivered a bombshell,” he said. “Jessica and I were married before we left England.”
“Con…congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“I am so pleased to meet you,” he said, recovering a little from his surprise. He then said he had been deeply shocked by Ben’s death.
“We have all been shocked,” answered Joss. “I’m afraid there was no hope of saving him. That was why he wanted me to go to England.”
“And there you met your bride,” said Mrs. Laud softly.
“Jimson works for the Company,” Joss explained to me. “He and his sister Lilias l
ive here in their mother’s apartments.”
“It’s a large house,” I commented.
“Mr. Henniker was always determined that there should be plenty of room for guests,” said Mrs. Laud. “We often had a houseful. Well, here is my daughter, Lilias.”
How alike the family were! Lilias was a younger edition of her mother—meek, unassuming.
“Lilias, this is Mrs. Madden…our future mistress,” said Mrs. Laud.
Lilias’s surprise was as evident as that of her mother and brother. I caught her expression as her eyes rested on Joss and I was not quite sure what it meant She was certainly overwhelmed by the fact that we were married. The expression was fleeting; it had gone scarcely before it was there and she was the meek girl of a few moments before.
“You’ll be staying for a while, Mr. Croissant, I dare say?” said Mrs. Laud.
“For a couple of nights, I hope. Then I have to get on to Melbourne.”
“Has everything been going well while I’ve been away, Mrs. Laud?” asked Joss.
“Everything has been well in the house, Mr. Madden, which is all I can speak for.”
Joss was looking at Jimson Laud, who said: “There have been one or two spots of trouble in the Company but nothing serious. I expect you will be down there tomorrow.”
“You can be sure of that,” replied Joss. “Tomorrow you must show my wife the house, Mrs. Laud.”
Mrs. Laud bowed her head.
“I shall be most interested to see it,” I told her.
Then the tea arrived.
“Shall I pour?” asked Mrs. Laud.
“I believe my wife would like to do that,” said Joss, which was dismissing her, I realized.
“Lilias will see that they prepare the rooms,” said Mrs. Laud.
“I’ll talk with you later, Jimson,” said Joss, “and then you can give me an idea of what’s been happening.”
We were alone with David Croissant. I could feel that Joss was a little impatient by the manner in which his eyes kept straying to that picture.
I felt as impatient as he did. Very soon I was going to see the wonderful Green Flash.
David Croissant talked about some of the stones he had brought with him, a few of which he had shown us in Cape Town. He was most eager, he said, to see what the Fancy had thrown up lately.
“Not more eager than I,” Joss reminded him.
In due course we had finished tea and Joss said he would take me up. As we mounted the stairs he said: “I noticed how your eyes kept straying to the picture. Were you thinking what I was?”
“I expect so.”
“At the first opportunity we’ll look. I shall lock the door because I don’t want us to be disturbed. I hardly like to do it while David Croissant’s in the house. He’s got a nose for opals. I felt he was going to sense it in that room. We’ll choose our moment. Well, what do you think of your home?”
“I have seen very little of it yet.”
“It can’t compare with that of your ancestors, of course, but it comes pretty near it. I believe Ben had Oakland in mind when he planned this. You’ll discover several similar features. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery, it’s said. Well, this place is a piece of flattery to Oakland Hall. So you should like it.”
“I like very much what I have seen.”
“You must reserve your judgment until after your tour of inspection. By rights, you know, I should have carried you over the threshold.”
I ignored that.
“What do you think of the Lauds?” he asked.
“I thought that they were very unassuming…eager to please.”
“They’re a sort of institution. Mrs. Laud came to work here…oh, it must have been quite twenty-seven years ago. She was a widow with two children. Her husband had come out after gold. He’d had some bad luck; he died and left them penniless. Ben took them in. Lilias was only a year or so old and Jimson was about five. She’s been more than a housekeeper.”
“I gathered that.”
“She and Ben were very friendly at one time.”
“You mean…?”
He looked at me maliciously. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said.
“I think I understand…perfectly,” I contradicted.
“It gives them a certain standing in the household. Jimson was taken into the Company. He’s good at figures…quite a good worker but uninspired.”
“And Lilias?”
“A pleasant girl…more talented than you’d think.”
“How do you know what I think?”
“My dear wife, I read you like a book. I saw your eyes on her contemplatively.”
“She seemed eager to please you. Is that why you consider her talented?”
“Of course. It shows her wisdom. Ah, they have prepared the bridal suite for us.”
He opened the door and turning to me swiftly, swept me off my feet and carried me into the room. I did not protest because that was what I realized he was hoping I would do. I remained passive until he set me down.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” he said clucking his tongue. “They’ve made the same mistake.” He was regarding the big four-poster bed with feigned dismay. “There is a dressing room.” He slipped his arm through mine and took me to it. “Designed for those occasions when all is not harmony between the married lovers. The bed looks uncomfortable. Moreover its proximity would be distasteful to you.” He went to a bell rope and pulled it.
It was Lilias who came, and I suspected that she had not been far off.
“Lilias,” said Joss, “will you have my old room made ready for me. I shall need it.”
She looked startled, but I saw the speculative gleam in her eyes. I was again wondering what the relationship had been between her and Joss.
“I will see to it immediately,” she said. As she went out Joss turned to me. “You see what consternation you arouse in us all.”
I did not answer. My cheeks were burning.
A maid came in with hot water.
“I’ll leave you,” said Joss, “and I’ll come for you in just under an hour’s time for dinner.”
He went out and I looked round the room. The curtains were a light shade of yellow, the carpet a darker one; and there was a primrose-colored counterpane on the bed and touches of varying shades of yellow, all blending beautifully with each other throughout the room.
It was indeed pleasant. I washed, changed into a green silk dress and wondered when the rest of my baggage would arrive.
Then I went to the window and pulled up the blind. The sun immediately blazed in. Looking out I could just see beyond the grounds to the calico tents of Fancy Town. I imagined Ben in this house reveling in the similarities of Oakland and looking out on the town which had begun with my father’s dream. “Ben, are you satisfied now?” I whispered, and I thought of the sudden fear which had come to me in the burned-out inn. I knew those fears were still there in the back of my mind waiting to emerge.
I longed for Ben then. I wanted to explain to him that when he had arranged our lives he had not been aware of what danger he was putting me in.
I seemed to hear his laughter. “It was a free choice, wasn’t it? You didn’t have to, did you? You wanted everything the marriage brought you…both of you. You took what you wanted; well, now you must pay for it.”
Oh Ben, I thought, you were a ruthless man and your son is the same. You lived hard; you brushed aside those who stood in your way. Did you ever think, Ben, that I might be in Joss’s way?
What was this idea which had been creeping into my mind since I had had my nightmare in the Bush? It was almost as though it had been a warning.
When Joss came to take me down to dinner I was ready and waiting for him.
He said: “The Lauds dine with us. They always have. You’ll have to get to like them. They??
?ll go out of their way to please you. Mrs. Laud is a wonderful manager. You can leave everything to her. We often have people in and out for meals I mean. She manages that sort of thing very well.”
The dining room was paneled like the one at Oakland and had long windows reaching from floor to ceiling at which there were blue draperies bordered with silver. A candelabrum stood in the center of the table and at either end was a decoration of variegated leaves that was very effective. Mrs. Laud had arranged everything very tastefully.
I saw her sharp eyes take in the details as though doubly to assure herself that they were as they should be. Soup was followed by roast chicken, and these were excellently served.
I felt ill at ease because I was aware of a certain tension at the table. I had a feeling that there was a great deal I had to discover about my new home. I believed that beneath the surface was something which would change the entire atmosphere if it came to light. It was an odd feeling. When I looked in her direction I would find Lilias’s eyes on me; she smiled or looked hastily away and I asked myself whether I had been right in assuming she had some deep feeling for Joss and that our marriage was a great blow to her.
Mrs. Laud gave a kind of silent direction to the servants and I had the idea that she missed nothing.
I was mostly a listener at the dinner table that night, for the conversation was all about the Company and of this, of course, I had everything to learn.
Mrs. Laud said: “Tom Paling was badly hurt when the wheel came off a buggy he was driving. He’d been up to the house to see Jimson and on the way back to the town the wheel came off and he was nearly killed.”
“Paling!” cried Joss. “Good God! He’s all right now, I hope.”
“He’ll never walk again. Jimson took over his work…and I believe the department is running better than it ever did before. But you tell Mr. Madden, Jimson.”
“Well you see,” said Jimson, “this happened, and we thought it was the end of poor Tom. He injured his back and he’s partly paralyzed. I took over his work at once.”
Joss was clearly disturbed. “Paling was one of our best men. What about his family?”