“I shall have to adjust myself to it,” I said.
“You are right; you will. You shouldn’t give her a mount that’s too frisky, Stirling.”
“Certainly I won’t.”
“She’s come out here to live in Australia, not to meet an untimely end.”
“You are unduly concerned,” I said.
“I am able to take care of myself.”
“Well, that’s going to make everything a lot easier for us.”
He turned his attention then to the men and there was a great deal of animated conversation about the mine. William Gardner was mainly concerned with this; I listened to the answers and questions and was aware of Lynx’s avid interest in everything connected with gold.
While this conversation was going on the door opened and a woman came in; she glided to the chair beside me where she sat down.
“We wondered what had happened to you, Jessica,” said Adelaide.
“This is Nora.”
“Welcome to Whiteladies.” Her voice was quiet yet rough; she was very thin and gave the impression that she had dressed hurriedly. The fichu of lace at her neck was grubby and I noticed that a button on her dress was hanging by a thread. Her grey hair was abundant but not well dressed. What struck me most was the strange lost expression in her eyes; which might have been those of a sleepwalker.
“Didn’t you hear the gong?” asked-Adelaide.
Jessica shook her head; she was still looking at me intently. I smiled at her—reassuringly, I hoped, for I felt she was in need of reassurance.
“I hope you’ll find it not too difficult to settle in,” said Jessica.
“I don’t think I shall.”
“Have you brought clothes from England? There’s not much here.”
I said I had brought a little.
“Your bags are in your room,” she told me.
“They’ve just been taken up.”
Lynx, impatient of this trivial conversation, talked loudly of the mine and the property and the talk was dominated by the men. I had noticed the mildly indifferent and faintly contemptuous glance Lynx had given to Jessica. She was aware of it too and her response baffled me. I wasn’t quite sure what it meant—fear, dread, awe, dislike—even hatred? Of one thing I was certain. No one in this house was indifferent to Lynx. Stirling was more animated than I had ever seen him before; his attitude was little short of idolatry; and there was a strong feeling between father and son. I could see that if the Lynx cared for anyone beyond himself that one was Stirling; and I fancied that he wanted to make his son another such as himself. —a worthy heir to his empire. He listened to Stirling’s views, applauding them now and then with a certain parental pride of which I should not have thought him capable, or demolishing them with a devastating attack which nevertheless held a flavour of indulgence.
So he was capable of loving someone other than himself. His feelings towards his daughter were less strong. She was calm and intelligent—a good woman, and she was useful to him. So he showed a certain affectionate tolerance towards her. But these were his own children; to others he was the stem master; and towards me he had no feelings at all; I represented a duty to him.
But there was a flicker of interest in his eyes as he turned to me.
“About her mount, Stirling,” he said.
“I had thought Tansy for her, but perhaps that wouldn’t be wise. “
“It’s very good of you to concern yourself,” I replied. The blue eyes were on me now.
“You’ll have to go carefully at first. This isn’t riding in Rotten Row, you know.”
“I have never ridden in Rotten Row, so I couldn’t know how different this may be.”
“No, certainly not Tansy,” he went on.
“Blundell. You’ll ride Blundell. Her mouth’s been toughened by beginners. She’ll do till you’re used to the land around here. Stirling, you might take her out tomorrow. Show her the property. Not that she’ll ride round that in a day, eh Jagger?”
Jagger laughed sycophantically.
“I’d say it was an impossibility, sir, even for you.”
“Distances are different here from where you come from. You think fifty miles is a long way, I don’t doubt. You’ll have to get used to the wide open spaces. And don’t go off by yourself. You could get lost in the bush for days and that wouldn’t be pleasant. We don’t want to have to send out search parties. We’re too busy for that.”
“I shall try not to inconvenience you in any way.” He was smiling again. I was glad that he had dropped that irritating habit of talking at me.
“I think we shall find Nora very self-sufficient,” said Adelaide.
“That’s what we have to be out here,” he replied.
“Self-sufficient.
If you are, you’ll get on. If not . then it’s better to get out. “
“Nora will be all right,” said Stirling, smiling at me reassuringly.
The conversation turned to England, and I was waiting for Stirling to mention to his father that we had seen a house called Whiteladies; but he said nothing of this. He talked of London and his father asked many questions, so the conversation flowed easily. Then he asked me about Danesworth House and I found myself talking freely. One quality he had: he seemed to be deeply interested in many things. This surprised me; I should have thought that, seeing himself as the centre of his world, the affairs of others would have seemed trivial to him. He regarded us all as lesser than himself; he was the ruler of us all, the arbiter of our lives and fates—but I was to learn that he was acutely interested in every detail of our lives. Even during that meal I became aware of the many facets of the affection between Stirling and his father and the milder emotion he felt for his daugnter. I was aware of the silent Jessica beside me who contributed little to the conversation yet made me aware of her, perhaps because I had heard that she was strange. And there was William Gardner with the fanatical gleam in his eyes when he talked of the mine where my father had worked with him. There was Jacob Jagger—and whenever I looked his way I met a bold glance of approval. Dominating that table, of course, was the man of whom I had heard so much and whose reputation I had already begun to feel was not exaggerated.
The next morning I awakened early and lay in bed thinking of the previous night until a maid—whose name I discovered to be Mary—brought in my hot water. Adelaide had told me that breakfast was between seven-thirty and nine and that I could go down at any time during that period. I rose from my bed and looked out of the window. I was looking out on a lawn, in the centre of which was a pond and in this pond was a statue; water-lilies floated there. I caught my breath in amazement. If I could have put a table there and set up a blue-and-white sunshade over it, this could be that other Whiteladies on the summer afternoon when I had seen it.
I am imagining this, I told myself. Lots of gardens have lawns and a pond with water-lilies. After all, hadn’t Adelaide told me that her father was anxious to recreate an English atmosphere? What had startled me was the coincidence of the names being the same, and the odd thing really was Stirling’s not mentioning it when we went to that other house.
I looked at my watch. I must not be late for breakfast. I thought of quiet Jessica’s gliding into the dining-room and the displeasure of Lynx, and Jessica’s indifference—or was it indifference? She had some strong feeling for Lynx. She seemed as though she hated him and was deliberately late to show her defiance. I could understand that defiance. Hadn’t I felt a little of it myself?
I found my way down to the hall, which was not used for breakfast. It was evidently not the ceremonial occasion that dinner seemed to be. At dinner, I thought, he likes to place himself at the head of the table like some baron of old while his fiefs sit in order of precedence and his serfs wait on him. At least I was above the salt. The thought amused me and I was smiling as I went into the small dining-room to women I was directed by Mary the maid.