Chapter 9

Rutherglen, Christmas 1868

This was the second Christmas May had spent in Australia but she could not get used to the idea that here it happened in high summer. The residents of Rutherglen were, nevertheless, determined to celebrate it in the traditional manner, which varied according to their countries of origin. This year May and her family, together with the rest of the household, were invited to spend the day with the Schloers. It was a prospect that she viewed with some alarm, as Anton’s attentions had become increasingly pressing over recent months. There was nothing she could do about that, however. To refuse the invitation would be the height of discourtesy and deprive her family of an enjoyable occasion.

On Christmas morning they exchanged presents over the breakfast table. May had sent away to Melbourne for a pair of fine kid gloves for her father and an elegant cravat for Gus. For Maria, she had painted a portrait of Pedro, and for Pedro one of Maria. Both of them had shown great interest in her artistic efforts and, though she did not consider herself in any way an expert at portraiture, she knew it was something that would please them both.

On her plate that morning was a small package addressed to her in her father’s handwriting. Opened, it revealed a beautiful opal pendant on a gold chain. On Gus’s plate was an envelope inscribed ‘For Merlin’ and he let out a yell of delight when he opened it to find a cheque to cover the sum Mr Marshall required for the colt. Pedro gave him a head collar of fine leather and Maria a saddle-cloth embroidered with his initials. For May, there was a chemise of fine linen edged with lace and delicately embroidered with a design of white roses and, from Pedro, earrings to match the pendant. As a final gesture, May revealed a picture she had painted of Freshfields with all of them sitting on the veranda.

Breakfast over, and the morning chores out of the way, it was time to get ready to leave for the Schloers’ house. May had another new dress, this time of peacock-blue silk. When her father had suggested it she had demurred at the extravagance, but he had pointed out that all the other ladies would have new clothes for the festivities and he wanted her to be a credit to him, so she had given way.

As they entered the main hall of the Schloers’ house they all stopped with exclamations of wonder. A tall pine tree stood in the centre of the room, it’s branches decked with ribbons and paper flowers and apples and pieces of gingerbread wrapped in gold paper, all illuminated by dozens of candles. May had seen Christmas trees before. Mr Freeman had adopted the new fashion and had used them to decorate the shop windows the year before she left England, but she had never seen anything as magnificent as this.

Herr Schloer stood in front of the tree to greet them and then they were conducted through to the veranda at the back of the house where Frau Schloer waited with Anton and his three sisters. Gifts were exchanged and then there was a bang as a bottle of champagne was opened.

‘Not our own production, sadly,’ Herr Schloer said. ‘The climate here does not lend itself to the cultivation of the Pinot Noir grape, but we shall sample some of our own vintage later.’

The glasses were passed round and a toast was drunk, but May only sipped at her wine. She was just beginning to appreciate some of her father’s red wines, and this light, fizzy drink was enjoyable in the summer heat, but she knew very well what would happen if she drank much and she felt she needed to keep her wits about her today.

Other guests arrived, amongst them the O’Dowd family, and soon they were all seated around a long table. There was a spicy beef soup to start with and then a huge roast goose was placed ceremonially in front of Herr Schloer. It was accompanied by slices of spicy sausage and potato dumplings and sauerkraut. May was happy to eat something other than the regular dish of roast mutton, which was the staple diet of most of their neighbours, but she found the whole meal too heavy for such a warm day. It was a relief when as an alternative to the plum pudding there was a dish of raspberries and cream.

After the meal the guests settled back in long chairs and the men lit cigars. Some started to play cards. Anton’s youngest sisters were ten and twelve years old, and there were several other children among the guests and May found herself co-opted to organise games for them. She found this ironic, having never been allowed to play and join in sports as a child herself, but she entered into the spirit of the day. They played hide and seek and blind man’s bluff, and then someone produced a cricket bat and a ball and Anton and Gus were lured away from the adults to organise the game.

Tea was served as the sun sank lower and then Patrick O’Dowd struck up on his fiddle and was soon joined by another guest on the accordion and the dancing began. This was the part of the festivities May had been dreading. Anton had been on his best behaviour, dividing his attention between his father’s guests, but now he came towards her with a proprietary air and led her onto the impromptu dance floor in the middle of the lawn. She managed to escape once or twice when other young men among the guests asked her to dance, but as soon as she remarked that she was tired he made that an excuse to lead her away into the shadow of a rose arbour where there was a seat.

‘You are looking more beautiful than ever tonight,’ he told her.

‘Thank you. But I’m not sure that is true. I’m so hot, I’m sure I must be purple in the face.’

‘Oh, believe me, it is! You are a little flushed, it is true, but it suits you.’

He took hold of her hand and leaned towards her. He was breathing a little more heavily than could be accounted for by their recent exercise on the dance floor. She knew what was coming but felt impotent to prevent it. His lips as they met hers were dry and slightly roughened by exposure to the sun. It was not the first time she had been kissed. She had a vivid memory of passionate kisses exchanged in shop doorways with Armando, and, more precious to her, of being kissed by James. Those kisses had inflamed her blood, sending surges of desire through her body. This one left her cold. She wanted to draw back but some sense of indebtedness prevented her. He had been kind to her, and he was obviously fond of her; she felt that perhaps she owed him some return. She endured the kiss as long as she could, but when his pressure on her lips became more urgent she put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him away.

‘No, Anton. It’s not … we shouldn’t …’

To her surprise he sat back without protest. ‘No, you are quite right. This is not the correct way to behave. Forgive me.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive. But perhaps we should go back to the others now?’

For the rest of the evening he behaved impeccably, even permitting other men to dance with her without protest, and by the time they were ready to leave, May had come to the conclusion that he had at last taken the hint and realised that there was no possibility of a closer relationship between them.

Next day, when May returned from the lake, where she had been sketching, Maria said, ‘Anton was here earlier.’

‘Oh? Did you tell him where I was?’

‘Yes, but he said he had not come to see you. He had business to discuss with your father.’

‘Oh well, that’s all right then.’

That evening she was sitting on the veranda, enjoying the cooler air and trying to read by the light of an oil lamp, when her father came and sat beside her.

‘May, there’s something I need to discuss with you and I don’t quite know how to begin.’

She looked at him anxiously. His expression was serious but not angry. If anything he looked slightly embarrassed.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.

‘No, not wrong. It’s just that I’ve never had to do this before. It’s not something I ever expected.’

‘Have I done something to upset you?’

‘No! No, it’s nothing like that.’

‘Well, then …’

He cleared his throat. ‘Young Schloer came to see me today.’

‘Oh yes, Maria told me. What did he want?’

‘You. He wants to marry you. He came to ask my permission to propose to you.’

‘Oh no!’ She gazed at her father in anguish. ‘Papa, I don’t want to marry Anton. Please, don’t ask me to.’

He looked surprised but not annoyed. ‘My dear girl, if you don’t want to marry the fellow, no one is going to make you. But I thought you liked him. You danced with him all evening, more or less.’

‘I do that because he gets angry if I dance with other boys. He seems to feel he has some rights over me.’

‘Well, he doesn’t, so he can forget that.’

‘What did you say to him?’

‘I said it was entirely up to you who you married, so he should ask you. I left you to fend for yourself years ago, and you seem to have done a pretty good job of it, so I’ve no right to put my oar in.’ He paused and drew on his cigar thoughtfully. ‘It seems a pity, though.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, for one thing, there are not so many young men around – not ones I would call suitable. And then … the Schloers’ land runs beside ours. Anton is the only son. One day he will inherit and if you did decide to marry him that would unite the two estates.’

‘Does that matter?’

‘It’s not vital, but from a commercial point of view it would be a good thing. These vines are still young. They don’t produce at their full capacity yet. We produce some very good quality wines, but the quantity is small.’

‘Is the vineyard in trouble?’

‘No, no. Not yet, at least. But things are changing. The gold is all but exhausted. Yields are so small that people are beginning to move away. So we shall have to look for new markets. That means Melbourne – perhaps even exporting. But as you know, to do that we have to send the wine by riverboat to Echuca and then onwards by rail. If only the railway came through here, it would be so much cheaper, but there’s no sign of that yet. If we were moving larger quantities it would work out cheaper. The larger vineyards have the advantage there.’

‘So it would help if our land was joined with the Schloers’?’

‘Yes, it would.’

May was silent for a few minutes. It was clear that her father would like her to marry Anton. And there was still no certainty that James would keep his promise and come to join her. Marriage to Anton would be bearable. He was kind-hearted, reliable – and he loved her. She had no wish to end up as an old maid.

She looked at her father. ‘Give me a little time, Papa. In – say, six months? – I may feel differently. Is that acceptable?’

‘My dear girl, whatever you decide to do is acceptable to me. I would never push you to do anything you did not want to do. When you are ready, you can tell me if you have changed your mind. And if Anton tries to hurry you, refer him to me. Understand?’

May got up from her chair and knelt at his side. ‘Dear Papa! I’m so lucky to have such an understanding father. Thank you!’

She kissed his cheek and he put his arm round her and held her close for a moment.

‘You don’t have to thank me for anything. All I want is to make up to you for all the years you spent in that damn orphanage and after.’

‘You’ve done that already,’ she told him. ‘I am very happy here and I don’t want for anything. But will you do one thing for me? Will you speak to Anton, and tell him I need more time to decide? He will take it better from you.’

‘Of course,’ her father said. ‘If that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll do.’

Gus, when he heard about her decision, was not so understanding.

‘Anton says you’ve turned him down! What’s wrong with you?’

‘What do you mean, what’s wrong with me? I just don’t want to marry Anton – or not yet anyway.’

‘And you expect him to wait around until you make up your mind?’

‘Only for a few months.’

‘Why? What is going to change in a few months?’ May said nothing and he went on, ‘You’re not the only pebble on the beach, you know? One day Anton will inherit the vineyard. There are plenty of girls who would see him as a very good catch.’

‘Then they are welcome to him, if that’s what he decides.’

‘Are you determined to be an old maid, then? Oh, wait a minute! I know what you’re waiting for.’ May stared at him. Could he possibly have read her mind? ‘You’re hoping that Rudi Marshall is going to propose to you, aren’t you? You fancy being a member of the squattocracy. Dream on! Men like that marry their own kind, not girls like you.’

‘That is not it!’ she exclaimed. ‘I never even thought of marrying Rudi.’

‘Then why won’t you marry Anton?’

‘Because I’m not in love with him.’

‘Oh, that’s just romantic nonsense.’

She gasped. ‘How can you say that, Gus? You are in love with Kitty. Why else did you follow her to Australia? Why else did you leave me all alone to come here, if not for love?’

He looked into her face and she saw that her words had struck home. He reached out and touched her hand. ‘Sorry, sis. I’m being a selfish pig. I’d like to see you married to Anton because he’s my friend, but if you don’t want to, that’s up to you. Just don’t wait too long. There isn’t going to be a fairy prince on a white horse, like you used to talk to me about when we were little.’

‘I know that, Gus,’ she said. ‘I’m not waiting for that. Just give me a bit of time.’

Next day Gus rode over to Eskmere to finalise the purchase of the colt Merlin and came back to tell them that they were all invited to see in the New Year with the Marshalls. Accordingly, on New Year’s Eve, they dressed in their best again and drove there in the pony trap, Gus riding beside them on Storm to make space for Pedro and Maria. They were greeted warmly and introduced to the members of two other squatter families, all of whom had emigrated from England. The dinner was lavish and the mood convivial, aided by generous quantities of local wine, including, May was glad to see, some of Freshfields’ best vintages.

At one point, conversation turned to more serious matters.

‘We could be in for some trouble in the next few months,’ Andrew Marshall said. ‘The tension between the squatters and the selectors is getting worse.’

May knew what the term meant. In an effort to prevent even larger areas being squatted, the government had allowed ordinary men and women, some of them transported prisoners who had served their sentence like her father, to ‘select’ an area of land on which to set up a small farm. Unfortunately, they had to make their selection without the benefit of a survey and some of them were now finding it hard to make a living. It was different for her father. Having struck gold he had been able to purchase the land he chose, rather than relying on luck in the selection process.

‘What is the problem?’ George Lavender asked.

‘Some of them feel that we squatters have deliberately made it impossible for them to select viable holdings, by denying them land with good access to water, for example. That may well be true, in some cases. Others just don’t have the skills, or the capital, to make a go of their holdings. As a result, we now have an underclass of discontented people who feel that we owe them something and who are prepared to take it by force if necessary.’

‘These bushrangers have been around for a good few years now,’ someone pointed out. ‘It’s nothing new.’

‘I know,’ Marshall said. ‘But with characters like Frederick Ward, who calls himself Captain Thunderbolt, and Benjamin Hall committing armed robbery, apparently at will, none of us are safe. And in my opinion it’s only going to get worse.’

‘Come on, Father,’ Rudi said, ‘this isn’t the right sort of talk for an evening like this. You’re frightening the ladies. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.’

‘You’re right,’ Andrew said. ‘I apologise. Let’s adjourn, shall we? Mrs Fisher, would you care to lead the ladies into the drawing room?’

In the drawing room there was the usual casual chatter, while ladies took their turn to discreetly withdraw and avail themselves of the chamber pots in one of the bedrooms. Then, after a suitable pause, Mrs Fisher, as the senior lady present, suggested they might re-join the gentlemen. Outside the gathering broke up into small groups to stroll around the garden admiring the carefully tended plants and shrubs. Gus and some of the younger men headed for the paddock to admire Merlin. There were two other young women among the guests and May had watched them making eyes at Rudi all through dinner and they were both now intent on claiming his attention, but he came to May’s side and said, ‘Will you walk with me, please, and protect me from those harpies?’

She laughed. ‘I’m sure you are perfectly capable of protecting yourself – and it’s not very kind to call them harpies.’

‘Oh, but they are!’ he said, taking her arm. ‘I know the type. They will strip the flesh off a man’s body if you give them half a chance. Shall we go down to the river?’

A small thrill of danger ran through May’s nerves, but she ignored it. ‘If you like.’

As they walked she said, ‘Tell me about these bushrangers your father mentioned. I’ve never heard of them before.’

‘Some of them are escaped convicts, some just men who have lost everything and turned to robbery as a way to make a living. One or two have just been crazy. There was Mad Dog Morgan who once shot a policeman just for saying hello. Then there was Black Douglas Russell. He was a brute. He preyed on diggers coming and going from the goldfields at Bendigo. He was captured when the miners burned down his camp, must be more than ten years ago now.’

‘Are some of them still at large?’

‘That one who calls himself Captain Thunderbolt is still around. He’s been credited with several armed hold-ups over the last few years.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘But you don’t need to worry. He’s after bigger fish than us – gold shipments and the like. And several of his gang have been rounded up recently.’

They had reached the river bank and turned to stroll under the shade of the she-oaks. He said, ‘Let’s not talk of violence and robbery, this is a celebration, a special day.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Let’s forget about them.’

They walked in silence for a while and when they came to the spot where they had stopped on the previous occasion he came to a standstill.

‘Beautiful!’ he said,

‘Yes,’ she agreed, gazing at the dappled sunlight reflecting on the water. Then she turned and realised that he was looking at her. Before she could speak or do anything to deflect him, he put his arms round her, drew her close and kissed her. This was very different from Anton’s kiss. This set her pulse racing and turned her body liquid with desire. It was a long time since she had felt like that. For a moment she let herself give in to her natural instincts, then she pulled back and broke away.

‘No, Rudi!’ She was breathless and shaking. ‘No, we really shouldn’t …’

He kept hold of her but made no attempt to renew the kiss. ‘I know. I know. But I wanted you to understand how I feel.’ He was panting too, but she saw him make an effort to control himself. ‘You remember what I said to you the last time you were here – about being Lady Eskmere?’

‘I thought you were joking.’

‘I was – in a way. But now I can’t stop thinking about it. Would you … could you … consider it?’

She drew back out of his grip. ‘It’s impossible.’

‘Why?’

She should have said, ‘Because I am already promised to someone else,’ but something prevented her. Instead she said, ‘For one thing, English society would never accept me as the wife of a baron.’

‘Why not?’

‘Think about it, Rudi! Can you imagine those ladies and gentlemen accepting the daughter of a man who was transported for smuggling into their society?’

‘They need not know. As far as they are concerned, you are the daughter of a successful wine grower.’

She gave a small, dry laugh. ‘I don’t know if they would find that any better.’ She sighed, suddenly weary of having to revisit these old arguments. ‘But I’m serious, Rudi. I’m not qualified to mix in that sort of society. I haven’t had the right sort of education. I can read and write and add up, but that is about all. I don’t have any of the accomplishments expected of a young lady. I can’t play an instrument, or sing, or speak a foreign language …’

‘You paint,’ he said. ‘Gus told me you did a painting of Freshfields and all the family as a Christmas present.’

‘Oh, that. Yes, I dabble a bit. But that isn’t enough. I just wouldn’t fit in to that sort of society.’

‘Then we won’t live in England. Why would I want to live in that chilly, grey climate with those chilly, grey people? We’ll stay here. No one worries about the sort of thing you’re talking about here.’

‘But you would have land, an estate, and a house in England.’

‘I’ll let the house to wealthy Americans and get a land agent in to manage the estate.’ He stopped and threw up his hands in a self-mocking gesture. ‘Why are we arguing about this? I may never inherit the title. And even if I do it won’t be for years. What I should be asking you is, would you consider being plain Mrs Rudolph Marshall?’

She drew a sharp inward breath and bit her lips. This was the moment to give him a definite ‘no’, but somehow the word stuck in her throat. Instead she said, ‘Rudi, we hardly know each other. We’ve met, what, three times? I can’t give you an answer on such a short acquaintance.’

‘No,’ he said and paused, nodding to himself in confirmation. ‘You’re right, of course. I shouldn’t try to rush you. I’m afraid that’s a fault of mine. When I see something I want I go hell-for-leather for it. Forgive me. Let’s just agree to go on meeting. And when you feel ready you can give me your answer.’

‘Well,’ she responded, ‘it looks as if we are bound to meet quite frequently. I know Gus wants your advice about training Merlin.’

He grinned suddenly. ‘Why do you think I persuaded my father to let him have the colt at a knock-down price?’

She looked at him, seeing him suddenly in a different light. ‘You mean, that wasn’t the proper price?’

‘Well, put it this way. He would have fetched a lot more to the right customer.’

‘And you persuaded your father to accept a loss – why?’

‘So that I would have a reason to call on you often, of course.’

‘I see.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I think we should go back to the others now.’

It was not practical for the party to continue until midnight, in order to see the New Year in. Eskmere was a large property by local standards but it did not have enough rooms to accommodate all the guests and no one wanted to have to drive home in the dark. So shortly after they re-joined the others people began making their farewells.

Jogging home in the pony trap as the light faded May tried to make sense of her confused impulses. It is not often, she thought, with a flicker of humour, that a girl gets two proposals of marriage within a week. But the fact was that she now had two young men hanging on her decision, a decision that was almost certainly going to be ‘no’. If it had been another woman, she would have condemned her as a shameless flirt. With a sudden pang of guilt she asked herself what James would think of the situation. He would be mortified by the discovery that she had so little faith in his promises. If you truly loved him, she told herself, you would trust him and wait for him. And if in the end something prevented him from coming to join you, you would resign yourself to the life of an old maid. But she could not silence the nagging doubt. It was over a year now since they had last seen each other. She knew that in that time she had changed greatly. She was no longer the timid girl she had been. She was self-reliant, confident in her own abilities, in spite of what she had said to Rudi. And he would have changed, too, though perhaps not so much. What if they found, when they met again, that they were no longer in love? The questions went round and round in her mind, without finding any solution.

Back at Freshfields, her father opened a bottle of his best vintage and as the clock on the mantelpiece struck twelve he raised his glass.

‘Here’s to 1869, my dears. May it bring us all our hearts’ desires.’