The Pearl Sister (The Seven Sisters Book 4), page 13
‘That’s what comes of leaving them open,’ he admonished her with a wag of his finger, which had so recently held a predator between it and his thumb.
‘It was you who told me to open them!’ Kitty retaliated, her voice coming out as a high-pitched squeak.
‘I meant for a short while, not the entire night. Well, that’s rich.’ He glared at her. ‘I’m roused from my slumber at the crack of dawn on Christmas Eve to aid a lady in distress, and rather than a thank you, I get an earful for my troubles.’
‘Was it . . . poisonous?’
‘The huntsman spider? No. They occasionally give you the odd nip, but mostly they’re as friendly as you like. Just great, ugly things who do a good job of keeping the insect population under control. Those are nothing compared to what you come across in the Northern Territory where I live. The outside “dunny” – a privy, as you would know it – teems with them, and some of them are dangerous. I’ve had to suck the poison out of a couple of my drovers before now. Nasty creatures, those redbacks.’
Kitty, her heart still pounding, but her senses returning to her at last, decided that Drummond took great pleasure in shocking her.
‘It’s a different life out there,’ he said, as if he were reading her thoughts. ‘A matter of survival. It toughens you up.’
‘I’m sure it does.’
‘Well, I’ll leave you to get some further rest, given it’s only five thirty in the morning.’ He nodded to her and walked towards the door. ‘And by the way, Miss McBride, may I ask if you always sleep in your chemise? Mother would be horrified.’ With a grin, Drummond left the bedroom.
* * *
Three hours later, over a breakfast of freshly baked bread and delicious strawberry jam, Mrs McCrombie produced a large package and passed it to Kitty.
‘For you, my dear,’ she said with a smile. ‘Your mother asked me to keep this until Christmas. I know how homesick you have been, and I hope this may ease your longing for Scotland.’
‘Oh . . .’ Kitty held the heavy package in her hands. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back.
‘Go on, open it child! I have been travelling with it for weeks now, wondering what is in it!’
‘Shouldn’t I wait until tomorrow?’ Kitty asked.
‘The German tradition is to open our gifts on Christmas Eve,’ replied Edith. ‘Even though we save ours for eventide. Please, my dear, go ahead.’
Kitty tore open the brown paper and pulled out various items, delight bubbling inside her. There was a tin of her mother’s famous homemade shortbread, ribbons from her sisters along with drawings and cards. Her father had sent a leather-bound prayer book, which Kitty returned to the box without even reading the inscription inside.
She spent the rest of the morning offering her domestic services, showing the black kitchen maid how to roll pastry then dole out the mincemeat that Mrs McCrombie had brought with her into the small pastry shells. Goose was on the menu tonight apparently, and a turkey sat in the cool room for tomorrow’s Christmas Day feast. In the burning heat of the afternoon, Kitty sent up messages of love to her family waking on the eve of Christmas, and thought of her sisters, who would be so excited for the events of the next two days. As her body was still exhausted from its alcoholic battering yesterday, she took an afternoon nap and woke to a knocking on the door.
‘Come,’ she said drowsily, and watched as Agnes entered the room, bringing folds of turquoise silk hung carefully over her arms.
‘’Tis from Mrs McCrombie, miss. ’Tis a Christmas present and she said you’re to wear it tonight for dinner.’
Kitty watched Agnes hang the garment on the outside of her wardrobe. It was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen, but she worried that she would not be able to raise her arms in it for fear of patches of perspiration appearing beneath her armpits.
The family gathered in the drawing room at five, where Kitty was introduced to the famous Mercer matriarch, Grandmother Alicia herself. Alicia was not at all what Kitty had been expecting – rather than having the perpetual look of disapproval that defined Edith, Alicia’s plump face was wrinkled into congenial folds, within which her blue eyes twinkled with mirth. It was sad, Kitty thought, that she was unable to conduct much of a conversation with her as Alicia spoke mainly German, despite having lived in Adelaide for many years. Andrew translated Alicia’s apologies for her limited English, but the warm touch of her hands was enough to tell Kitty that she was welcome in what was originally Alicia’s own home.
She marvelled at how the twins switched so confidently between languages, as they conversed with the assembled company in both German and English. She was also touched that everyone had sweetly included her in the present giving. There was an ivory comb from Edith and Stefan, tiny seed pearl earrings from Andrew, and from Drummond a handwritten note tied up in a package.
Dear Miss McBride,
This note is to tell you that your real Christmas present is stowed at the bottom of the wardrobe in your bedroom. I promise it is not a live spider.
Drummond
She watched his amused expression as she read it, then pulled out a sky-blue ribbon and smiled. ‘Thank you, Drummond. The colour is quite beautiful, and I will use it to trim my hair for dinner later.’
‘It’s to match your eyes,’ he whispered as any attention on their conversation was diverted by the presentation of Edith’s Christmas gift from her husband.
‘My dear, merry Christmas.’ Stefan kissed his wife on both cheeks. ‘I hope it is something you will like.’
Inside the box was a truly glorious pearl, strung on a delicate silver chain. Its smooth opalescent surface gleamed richly in the last rays of the fast-sinking sun.
‘Goodness,’ said Edith, as she let her sister fasten it around her neck. ‘More pearls.’
‘But this one is special, my dear. The best of this year’s haul. Is it not, Andrew?’
‘Yes, Father. T. B. Ellies himself declared it so, Mother. None larger has been found in the seas off Broome this year.’
Kitty’s eyes were transfixed by the gleaming, dancing bead sitting above Edith’s considerable bosom. She marvelled both at the size of such a precious jewel, and the indifference with which Edith had seemed to greet it.
‘You like pearls?’ Andrew, who was sitting next to her on a velvet-covered chaise longue, asked her.
‘I love them,’ she replied. ‘I was forever opening clams on the beach back in Leith to find one, but, of course, I never did.’
‘No, and I doubt you ever would have done. They need a particular climate and breed of oyster, not to mention many, many years to come to fruition.’
After the present opening, everyone retired to their rooms to change before dinner, and Kitty took the opportunity to see what exactly it was that Drummond had decided to give her for Christmas. Knowing him, a bottle of whisky or a dead huntsman spider in a frame . . . The package was so tiny that it took her some time to root about in the bottom of her wardrobe to find it. It was an unremarkable box, tied with a simple ribbon. She opened it eagerly, and found a small grey stone nestled inside.
She picked it up and felt its coolness on her hot palm, feeling perplexed at why he had given this to her. Just like any pebble she could find on a beach in Leith, it was a plain slate grey, and even when she held it to the light she could not see any interesting striations in it.
But when she turned it over, she saw it was carved on the other side. Fascinated, she ran her fingers over the ridges and valleys, the edges of which had been rounded with age and much handling, but she was unable to make out a shape or a word.
Stowing it in the cabinet next to her bed, and feeling mean-hearted for her earlier harsh thoughts on Drummond’s gift, she called Agnes in to help her into her new dress and fasten the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons that ran from the bottom of her back up to her neck. Already feeling far too hot, and trussed up like the proverbial Christmas turkey, her reflection in the mirror made up for it. The colour of the silk complemented her eyes perfectly, making them shine turquoise. As Agnes fastened Drummond’s ribbon into her curls, Kitty dabbed some rouge onto her cheeks, then stood up and went downstairs to join the party.
‘Well, well, you look quite lovely tonight, Miss McBride,’ said Mrs McCrombie with the proud air of a mother hen. ‘I knew that colour would suit you the minute I saw it.’
‘Thank you very much, Mrs McCrombie. It’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had,’ Kitty replied fervently as the doorbell rang to announce more Christmas Eve guests and they walked through to the drawing room to join those who had recently arrived.
‘The best present, eh?’ said a low voice from behind her. ‘Charmed, I’m sure.’
It was Drummond, looking smart in full evening dress.
‘I was simply being polite. Thank you for the ribbon . . . and the stone, but I have to confess, I have no idea what it is.’
‘That, my dear Miss McBride, is a very rare and precious thing. It’s called a tjurunga stone, and it once belonged to a native of the Arrernte Aboriginal tribe. It would have been his most precious possession, presented to him at his initiation into manhood as a symbol of his special responsibilities.’
‘Goodness,’ breathed Kitty. Then her eyes narrowed. ‘You didn’t steal it, did you?’
‘What on earth do you take me for? As a matter of fact, I found it a few weeks ago when I was crossing the Outback on my way here from the cattle station. I slept in a cave and there it was.’
‘I hope the person to whom it belongs hasn’t missed it.’
‘I’m sure he is long dead, and won’t complain. Now, Miss McBride’ – Drummond reached out to a passing drinks tray and took two glasses from it – ‘may I offer you a little sherry?’
Kitty saw the twinkle in his eye and refused. ‘No, thank you.’
‘I must admit, you’ve scrubbed up rather well tonight,’ he said as he gulped down the dainty amount of sherry in one, then proceeded to drain the one she had refused, too. ‘Merry Christmas, Kitty,’ he said softly. ‘So far, it’s been an utter . . . adventure, to make your acquaintance.’
‘Miss McBride . . .’
Kitty turned and found Andrew at her side. And thought that it really was most disconcerting having a pair of identical twins in the same room; one felt as though one was seeing double.
‘Good evening, Andrew, and thank you for my beautiful earrings. I’m wearing them tonight.’
‘I’m happy to see they go well with your lovely dress. May I offer you a small sherry to toast the Yuletide?’
‘Miss McBride is teetotal. Never touches a drop, do you?’ Drummond murmured next to her.
As he ambled off across the room, Kitty wondered how long it would be before she was moved to slap him just to remove the smug smile from his face. The guests soon assembled in the dining room, where a sumptuous feast awaited them: roast goose, traditional roast potatoes and even a haggis that Mrs McCrombie had stored in the ship’s cold room on the voyage over. From their fine clothes and the women’s jewels, Kitty knew she was sharing a Christmas feast with the creme de la creme of Adelaide society. A pleasant German gentleman who spoke perfect English sat to her right, and told her of his brewing business and his vineyards, which apparently flourished in the Adelaide Hills.
‘The climate is similar to that of southern France, and the grapes grow well. Mark my words, in a few years’ time, the world will be buying Australian wine. This’ – he reached for a bottle and showed it to her – ‘is one of ours. Can I entice you to try a drop?’
‘No thank you, sir,’ she said in a hushed voice, not able to stand another knowing look from Drummond, sitting across the table from her.
Once the dinner was over, a crowd gathered round the piano and sang ‘Stille Nachf in German, followed by traditional British Christmas carols. When the repertoire was exhausted, Edith, who had already displayed a surprising talent on the piano, turned to her eldest son.
‘Andrew, will you sing for us?’
The assembled company clapped him politely to the piano.
‘Forgive me, ladies and gentlemen, for I am rusty. As you can imagine, I do not get much of an opportunity to perform in Broome,’ said Andrew. ‘I shall sing “Ev’ry Valley” from Handel’s Messiah.’
‘And I shall do my best to accompany him,’ said Edith.
‘My goodness, what a voice,’ whispered her wine-making neighbour after Andrew had finished and the drawing room rang with applause. ‘Perhaps he could have been a professional opera singer, but life – and his father – had other plans. That’s Australia for you,’ he added under his breath. ‘High on sheep, cattle and ill-begotten riches, but low on culture. Our country will change one day, you mark my words.’
By then, it was almost eleven in the evening, and the guests were escorted into carriages by their grooms to trot off into the centre of Adelaide for Midnight Mass.
St Peter’s Cathedral was an imposing sight, with its intricate Gothic spirals reaching up into the sky, and warm candlelight spilling out through its stained-glass windows. Drummond escorted his mother and aunt into the cathedral, while Andrew helped Kitty down from her carriage.
‘You have a beautiful voice,’ she said to him.
‘Thank you. Everyone tells me that, but perhaps you never value what comes easily to you. And also, apart from entertaining Mama and Papa’s guests on high days and holidays, it serves no purpose,’ Andrew commented as they followed the crowd up the steps to the cathedral.
The inside of the church was just as impressive, with tall, vaulted arches framing the pews. The service, which was what Father would call ‘high church’, was full of wafted incense and clergy with the kind of gold-threaded robes which Ralph would have derided. Kitty went up for Holy Communion, kneeling at the altar between Drummond and Andrew. At least, she thought, her toes weren’t curling from the biting cold, as they usually did in Father’s church in Leith on Christmas Eve.
‘Did you enjoy that? I know it’s not what you’re used to,’ asked Andrew as they filed out.
‘I am of the belief that the Lord almost certainly doesn’t mind where you worship, or how, as long as you are glorifying His name,’ Kitty answered tactfully.
‘If there is a God at all. Which, personally, I doubt,’ came Drummond’s voice out of the darkness behind her.
As she retired to her room later, having checked the terrace doors were tightly shut and then scrutinising the ceiling and the corners for any sign of eight-legged hairy monsters that might decide to join her in bed, Kitty decided that it had been a very interesting day.
10
Between Christmas and Hogmanay – or, as people called it here, New Year’s Eve – there were outings to keep the residents of Alicia Hall entertained. They took a picnic to Elder Park and listened to an orchestra playing on the bandstand, then the following day found them at Adelaide Zoo. While Kitty delighted at the various furry inmates, such as the wideeyed possums and the adorable koalas, Drummond found more pleasure in pulling her towards the reptile house and showing her an array of snakes. He was at pains to point out which ones were benign and those that could kill.
‘The pythons are mainly harmless, although they do give you a hell of a nip if you tread on them by accident. It’s those Australian browns which are difficult to see on the earth that are the most venomous. And’ – he pointed at the glass – ‘that stripy one coiled around the twig in the corner. That’s a tiger snake and equally nasty if you get bitten. Snakes will only bother you if you bother them, mind you,’ he added.
Drummond suggested Kitty take a ride on an elephant, the crowning glory of Adelaide Zoo. Kitty was hoisted up inelegantly onto the ageing grey back of her steed. She sat atop, feeling just like the Indian maharani she had seen pictures of in a book.
‘You should wait until you try a camel – now that is a bumpy ride,’ Drummond shouted up at her.
That night, she arrived home and immediately wrote to her family to tell them that she’d ridden on an elephant – in the most unlikely of places.
Hogmanay arrived and Kitty was told that a big evening party was always hosted by Edith.
‘She puts us through this every year,’ Drummond groaned at breakfast that morning. ‘She insists we wear our tartan.’
‘That’s normal in Edinburgh all year round,’ Kitty retorted.
‘And that is the point, Miss McBride. I am a born and bred Australian who has never set foot in Scotland, and actually, more to the point, never intends to. If the boys back at Kilgarra station ever knew that I hopped around in a skirt for the night looking like a girl, I’d never hear the last of it.’
‘Surely it’s not much to ask to please Mother?’ Andrew put in to the conversation. ‘Remember, she was born there and misses the old country. And I’m sure Miss McBride will enjoy it too.’
‘I didn’t think to bring my clan tartan . . .’ Kitty bit her lip.
‘I’m sure Mother can lend you one of hers. She has a wardrobe positively bursting with plaid. Excuse me.’ Drummond stood up. ‘I have some things to do in town before I leave for Europe.’
‘Your brother’s going to Europe?’ Kitty asked Andrew after Drummond had left the room.
‘Yes. Tomorrow, with Father,’ he replied. ‘Drummond wants to purchase some heads of cattle – his stock dwindled this year due to a drought and the blacks’ spears, and Father has some magnificent pearls to sell from his haul this year and trusts no one to do it for him. Besides, it’s the wet season up in the north, and not a comfortable place to be. Our luggers in Broome are mostly in harbour due to the cyclone season. I will return soon to man the ship, so to speak. I’ve spent the past three years up there learning the ropes from Father and will take over managing it for him from now on, before Mother divorces him for desertion.’ Andrew gave Kitty a rueful smile.
