Ironbark (8 page)

‘I'll work hard to help you sail through it, Sir.'

‘Aye, lad, you already have at that. Mr Gordon is right pleased with your restoration of his landscapes. He paid handsomely above the price I quoted him. Said he never expected you'd be able to rescue the sixth one, being so badly damaged and all.'

Daniel felt his hands turn to ice. ‘The
sixth
one?'

‘Aye, I found it on your easel in the basement. You did a fine job. Apart from the aged canvas, it looks as fresh as the other five. A remarkable piece of restoration. I congratulate you. A partnership is definitely in your future, lad.'

Daniel almost staggered under the heavy hand placed on his shoulder, his thoughts were in turmoil.

Holy Mother, what do I do? Mr Plews badly needs the money to pay our
accounts. The owner is delighted with the work and he believes all six are by the same hand. I meant no harm. Must I expose myself?

Daniel heard the grandfather clock's seventh chime. He heard himself say, ‘I am delighted to have earned your approval, Sir.'

The reappearance of Saranna carrying a double-layered birthday cake with sixty flaming candles enhanced the mood of celebration. But when Daniel saw unmistakable love shining in Saranna's eyes his head ached. He knew what was expected of him. Marriage.

• • •

As summer drew to a close, Daniel's anxiety increased. Although he had given no direct sign of his intentions toward Saranna, he now regularly shared the family's church pew.

In public his manner to her was ever gentle and respectful but inwardly he felt confused. It was clear that Saranna saw him as a hero from one of the romantic novels she read. It was also clear that she longed for a declaration of his love.

That morning seated beside her in church, he saw her gloved hand move discreetly to the space between them – an unspoken invitation for him to hold her hand. Instead, Daniel folded his arms and tried to concentrate on the sermon. When the old vicar quoted the Apostle Paul's warnings about chastity and marriage, the words seemed to leap out at Daniel.

‘… it is good for a man not to touch a woman. Nevertheless to avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife … I say therefore to the unmarried … if they cannot contain, let them marry, for it is better to marry than to burn!'

From the corner of his eye Daniel saw that Saranna was blushing.

Daniel caught his breath.
Marriage to Saranna would secure my future as an artist. Why do I hesitate to press my advantage? When I first met her I burned to paint her. I'm flattered by her adoration – no one in my whole life ever loved me. But is that enough? Could I face spending the rest of my life with her?

After the service Aunt Georgina took matters into her own hands. Daniel was to escort Saranna home – the first time they would be together without a chaperone. Daniel seized the chance to take a detour along the towpath beside the canal. When they reached the Bridge of Sighs he only half listened to Saranna's tales of condemned prisoners who had crossed the bridge from Northgate prison to St John's Chapel for final absolution. He caught her by surprise when he said, ‘You realise, don't you, Saranna, that if I marry I can record no father's name in the church register. The whole world will know what you know. I am a bastard.'

Saranna looked so flustered, so pathetic to have her fear thrust out in the open, that Daniel felt a rush of anger.

‘I thought as much. The rules of society mean everything to you but you might as well accept that they mean precious little to me. I'll make my
own
name.'

Before she could deny her embarrassment, Daniel decided to test himself.

He pressed her hard against the stone wall. His kiss was rough and determined – the first time he had ever kissed a girl. He needed to explore the sensation. That it clearly excited Saranna gave him a pleasant sense of power.

She hastily withdrew at the approach of a middle-aged couple who wore identical expressions of disapproval.

Saranna was breathless. ‘Oh Daniel, does your kiss mean that we are—?'

‘It simply means I kissed you! Great artists aren't bound by conventional moral codes. And I intend to be great. Art will always be my mistress. An artist's wife must accept that.'

He strode off leaving Saranna to follow meekly at his heels. She caught at his sleeve. ‘I promise to respect your mistress if you want me for your wife.'

Daniel nodded but he was not sure if he had won or lost.

• • •

The largest art exhibition Daniel had ever seen was crowded with families on a guided tour. As a sop to his pride Saranna had paid their entrance fees. He was aware of her trailing behind him, more absorbed in him than the paintings.

Suddenly Daniel stopped, transfixed by an oil painting of a near naked girl with long brown hair, kneeling with her arms raised to the sky in supplication.
It's her face!

‘Clytie painted by Thomas Linton Hayes. The year before my birth!'

Saranna's gloved hand flew to her mouth. ‘The same initials as your mother's portrait! The program says he died ten years ago.'

Daniel sank to his knees, his eyes glassy with tears. Saranna turned chalk-white with embarrassment but Daniel did not give a damn who saw him as he drank in the portrait.

‘Just look at her. Clytie. Sensual yet innocent. My mother was brave enough to pose for an artist just as God made her.' He turned to his fiancée with a tone of mild contempt. ‘Are
you
, Saranna?' He gave a wry smile when he saw her confused expression and he strode off, content that he had made his point.
If I marry you, little mouse, it will have to be on my terms.

• • •

The clock struck midday as Daniel hurried back to the gallery from the bank. He felt a growing sense of trepidation about his approaching wedding day, 15 July. He waited for a cart that lumbered across his path and then he froze at what he could see through the gallery's window.

Like a mime performer in a dumb show, Maynard Plews was gesturing with uncharacteristic agitation to two police constables.

Daniel's first instinct was to flee. His second instinct was to bluff it out. If there were suspicions about the sixth landscape painting what proof could they have? He had burned the ruined original and put the ashes in the garbage pail.

Maynard Plews caught sight of him. And then the die was cast when the two constables also turned to look at him.

‘Is anything the matter, Mr Plews? Can I help in any way?' he asked politely as he stepped inside the gallery.

The older officer answered. ‘Aye, if you be Daniel Browne.'

Daniel swallowed. ‘That I am, Sir.'

‘Then you'll come down to the station and answer our questions. According to an art expert a painting restored at this gallery is a fake. He claims that your employer knew it was when he accepted payment.'

Maynard Plews quickly blocked Daniel's reply. ‘My apprentice has naught to do with this unfortunate mistake. I will make amends.'

Daniel felt shamed by his master's attempts to prevent him from being taken into custody.

Escorted from the gallery behind the ashen-faced Maynard Plews, Daniel glimpsed Saranna's horrified look as she cowered in a doorway. A motley crowd milled around enjoying the arrest of a respectable citizen.

‘No! There must be some mistake!' Saranna cried.

Maynard Plews looked defeated. ‘Tell your aunt to contact my lawyer, child.'

Saranna ran beside Daniel and whispered, ‘Tell me this isn't true!'

Overcome by despair he said nothing, losing sight of her in the crowd.

• • •

At their trial at the assizes Daniel stood beside Maynard Plews in the prisoner's dock. He searched the spectators' faces until he saw Saranna supporting her aunt at the rear of the court. The fear in their eyes made him think of animals ready for the slaughterhouse.

In contrast Maynard Plews's gaze was fixed resolutely on the magistrate. He refused to look in the direction of his family, even when he entered his plea – guilty.

Maynard Plews was accused of committing an act of major fraud in
which Daniel had knowingly acted under his employer's instructions. Despite his master's protestations that his apprentice had not been involved in the mistake his words fell on deaf ears.

When the old man was sentenced to transportation to the penal colony of New South Wales for the term of fourteen years, Daniel felt sure these words sounded his own death knell. He began to shake when the magistrate looked directly at him.

‘Daniel Thomas Browne, the court has taken into account your youth. Therefore you are to be transported to the said colony for the term of seven years.'

Above the courtroom clamour Daniel heard a girl's thin voice cry out, ‘Daniel! I promise I'll find a way to join you!'

Over the heads of the crowd Daniel saw Saranna. She was being hushed by her aunt. Suddenly aware of the people staring at her, Saranna hung her head, mortified by her outburst.

Daniel turned away.
How much courage can you expect from a mouse?

• • •

Fog blanketed the roadway. Dark fragments of trees pierced the fog and the distant mooing of a cow told Daniel that they were being marched along a deserted stretch of road outside Chester.

He was shackled to a line of prisoners headed for some rotting prison hulk on the Thames. He knew his master was struggling somewhere behind him because he could hear the sounds of his hacking cough – the trial had aged him overnight. Daniel avoided the old man's eyes, knowing he had protected Daniel although fully aware of his guilt. Daniel tried to convince himself his own role in the crime was accidental, but he felt a wave of shame that his silence had betrayed Maynard Plews and Saranna. His cowardice had changed all their lives forever.

Despite Saranna's outburst in court she had not visited him or her father in gaol. Daniel suspected she had not even tried, afraid some respectable person might recognise her.

He was grimly aware of the irony of the date – 15 July was his
intended wedding day. Gnawing hunger was uppermost in his mind. For days he had barely had enough rations to exist and he was hungry enough to eat his shoe leather – except that his boots had been stolen. The pair he was wearing he had stripped from the corpse of an elderly prisoner.

Marching in line his fellow prisoners looked devoid of hope. Their ragged garments would be scant protection against the winter to come. A single rebellious soul sang a bawdy song as if he were setting off on holiday.

The swirling fog was so thick Daniel wondered if it was an illusion when he saw a lone figure by the roadside. The hood of her blue cloak concealed all but her eyes.

He knew she was real when he heard Maynard Plews call out, ‘Go home, lass. Forget me. I'm dead to thee!'

Daniel met Saranna's eyes and saw her cowered expression. She turned away and disappeared into the fog.

His shackles forced him to go on, his mind filled with the agony of a single thought.
Our Lady, help me! How can I survive for seven years if I can't paint?

Jake Andersen felt his heart beat wildly as the housekeeper of the Rose and Crown Hotel in Sydney Town eyed him keenly. After all these months it seemed like his description of Jenny and Pearl had finally struck gold.

‘Aye, pretty as a doll. Wait here.'

Jake was left standing in the foyer. Would she reappear with Jenny? Or Pearl?

His hope died a little when she returned alone. With a gummy smile of triumph she handed him a fancy lace-edged handkerchief with the letter J initialled in the corner. Jake caught a faint waft of the French perfume Jenny loved.

‘She left this behind. Always dressed flash. Never wore the same gown or bonnet twice.'

‘Was she travelling with a little girl?'

‘I never saw no kiddie. But she always had her foreign gent in tow.'
Foreign.
Jake flinched at this first clue. ‘When were they here? Under what name?'

‘Just a few weeks back. I remember she wore furs even though it weren't real cold. As for names – most women of her kind use Smith, Brown or Jones.'

Jake paid her for her trouble and departed.
Women of her kind.
That careless phrase left a rank taste in his mouth.

He felt like a pawn in a cruel chess game in which that mongrel foreigner kept moving Jenny one step ahead of him. But why was there no sign of his little princess? What had happened to Pearl? He placed Jenny's handkerchief inside his shirt. His body heat caused the perfume to reactivate painful memories but he couldn't bring himself to discard
it as he rode down George Street to the Watch House.

In the months since Jenny's desertion Jake had registered Jenny and Pearl's descriptions with every police office, military barracks, hospital, physician's surgery, public hotel, inn and coach company in every town he'd visited. And he never forgot to prime gossipmongers – there was guaranteed to be one in even the smallest bush hamlet.

He had no portrait of Jenny to aid his search but today his description had finally paid off. The fact she had recently been travelling with a wealthy foreigner here in Sydney Town meant she was probably living somewhere flash. But that could even mean the new settlement at Port Phillip they'd named Melbourne Town after some bloody Brit prime minister.

At the George Street Watch House an old lag of a police officer listened to him describe Jenny's fragile build then cast a cynical eye over Jake's muscular body.

‘Most wives abscond from husbands what hit them.'

Jake repeated the worn phrase yet again. ‘I'm no wife-beater.'

‘You best face the truth, Andersen. Runaway wives, absconding servant girls and abandoned kiddies are as common as dirt in this here colony. If they're hungry enough and don't have a man to protect them, like as not they end up plying their trade in The Rocks.' He weighed up Jake before adding, ‘Aye, even the little 'uns.'