Castlemaine Murders Part 10

'More, sometimes,' said Eliza. 'Just before I left he had a bottle of claret and a bottle of port at lunch, double that at dinner. Mother was worried, but...'

'Mother always is,' concluded Phryne.

'And it never makes the faintest difference,' agreed Eliza.

She was sitting up, mopping her face, ordering her curls. Apart from the scoured complexion of the fair, who look like skinned rabbits if they are so unwise as to cry, she was looking better. Her voice, too, was firmer.

'So apart from being an exile and a cla.s.s traitor, is there anything else you would like to tell me?' asked Phryne. This got a watery smile.

'Oh, yes,' said Eliza. 'But I can't tell you that, yet.'

'All right, you can keep your other secrets for now, you socialist you,' said Phryne. 'And what gave you such a shock at Luna Park?'

'Why, I saw two people that I knew. It's always a surprise, seeing people in another place when you expect them to be home in England.'

'Who did you see?'

'About the first one I'm probably wrong, but I thought I saw Alice, in a flowered hat, but when I looked again she was gone. She would come and see me if she was in Australia, don't you think? We parted in friendship. It's probably because I so want to see her. You do that sometimes, eh, Phryne, mistake a stranger for someone you miss?'

'Certainly,' agreed Phryne.

'But the other I am sure about. It was that halfwit Roderick. His father must have sent him out here to try and make me change my mind. And Father probably encouraged it. He likes him-what did you call him?-the oaf.'

'Like calls to like,' said Phryne.

'But, Phryne, it's serious,' urged Eliza, grabbing Phryne's cognac hand and almost spilling her drink. 'Before Father sent me away Roderick was threatening all sorts of things-to kidnap me, to make me stay with him, to...'

'Rape you?' prompted her sister.

Eliza blushed purple and nodded.

'Have no fear,' said Phryne. 'Come downstairs and I will introduce you to Li Pen. He is Chinese, you must make up your mind to that. But if he is told to guard your body, nothing short of an army will get to you and I would put good money on Li Pen against even a biggish army. He's a Shaolin monk, devoted to chast.i.ty, vegetarianism and martial arts. And, incidentally, Vegemite. He's staying here with you and the household while I go to Castlemaine and get to the bottom of this business about the mummy. And Lin Chung needs to find four hundred ounces of gold which went missing on that goldfield in 1857, so I shall probably meet him there.'

Eliza had formed an opinion on Lin Chung, who had always been very polite to her. For one trained on Madame Lin, Eliza was a mere pa.s.sing annoyance.

'He's very nice, isn't he? So elegant. Like a big cat-a panther, say. And his clothes are divine.'

'Come along,' said Phryne, making a note to ask Ruth to share her romantic novels with Eliza, who clearly had similar tastes. 'You need to meet Li Pen and then you will feel a lot more secure. If Roddy gets past Li Pen I shall personally join a monastery, and think of the shock for the poor monks.'

'Father is quite wrong about you,' said Eliza as they descended the stairs.

'Why, what does the old buffalo say?'

'He says you don't care,' said Eliza. 'But you do, or you wouldn't have been so patient with me.'

'Shh,' said Phryne. 'Don't tell anyone, or I shall lose my air of fashionable languor. Li Pen? This is my sister Eliza.'

Li Pen got to his feet from his sitting position without moving through any intervening s.p.a.ce, a trick which never failed to enchant Phryne. He bowed politely to Eliza, who took in his shaved head, his neat blue garments and his beautiful, remarkably bright eyes. She smiled tentatively. Li Pen looked very, very foreign, like an extra from a Sax Rohmer novel.

'She is being pursued by an unwanted suitor who has threatened a.s.sault, kidnapping and worse,' Phryne went on while Eliza blushed again. 'If you see him, twist his head off.'

'As the Silver Lady says,' responded Li Pen. 'The lady her sister need have no fear.'

'But Roddy's awfully strong,' protested Eliza, surveying the light, lithe monk.

'Shall I have to do penance for boasting?' asked Li Pen of Phryne.

'No, this is a demonstration for the purpose of making Eliza feel safe. Go ahead. And make it impressive.'

Li Pen took the poker from the fire irons and stroked it between his hands, which suddenly made a complicated motion. He held the poker out, knotted in a decorative bow.

Eliza hefted the artifact. The poker was made of good solid iron and she had only seen a little flurry of movement, not the heave-ho of a fairground strongman. She stared.

Li Pen took the poker back, twisted it the opposite way, and straightened it out again.

'I'm convinced,' said Eliza. 'Thank you for looking after me, Mr Pen.'

'Mr Li,' corrected Phryne. 'Now, come for a walk along the seash.o.r.e and let us talk of many things, including whose coats of arms have mermen as supporters and why that detestable young man is in Australia.'

'And other things,' agreed Eliza.

There was still a shadow over her, Phryne thought; we aren't through this by a long chalk, but a beginning has been made. A Fabian socialist in the family, she added to herself. Father must have had whole litters of kittens. How I wish I'd seen it. She chuckled quietly, collected her hat, Li Pen and Eliza, and went out for a walk by the sea.

The Lin family holdings were much greater and more diverse than Lin had ever imagined. On the reluctant instructions of his grandmother, Lin was being conducted through the business by his eldest uncle, who had survived the reign of Grandmama by being jovial and cheerful, enjoying his wife, playing with his children, relishing his excellent dinners and consuming his many cups of wine, and never taking any criticism personally. It was well known that Uncle had the hide of a hippopotamus, but he was a jolly chap and it was a pleasure to be instructed by him.

'Your grandfather was anxious to diversify,' he told Lin. 'Pa.s.s me another cup of wine, will you, nephew? He foresaw that trade with China might be interrupted and he wanted to make sure that we had a good stake in this country. After all, we are staying. We are Australians now. That's why he bought the paper-making business here, and the vineyard in South Australia. He thought that it would be unwise to sell only luxuries, so we still have market gardens and a pig farm, not to mention the restaurants. Cousin Lin Po is running a poultry farm to supply them and we also get deli-cacies and flowers from Lin Tao in Castlemaine, only two hours by train. We use most of our own produce in the restau-rants, which means that not only are we better, we are also cheaper, and we can grow our own sort of vegetables, straw mushrooms and Chinese greens, water chestnuts and marrows. Lin Tao has high hopes of lychees soon. We also sell lotus flowers to the flower market. They grow on the fish ponds. Which we also sell. Trout, as it happens, and fancy goldfish. If the fancy goldfish don't sell we let them grow into carp and eat them.'

'What about a drought?' asked Lin Chung, fascinated. 'That would wipe out the crops. What do we sell then?'

'Unlikely,' said Uncle Lin. 'All of our gardens are on large rivers. If the Maribyrnong dries up our trouble will be as nothing to the trouble of the rest of Melbourne. The pigs and the poultry are all close to the market gardens-'

'For the manure,' said Lin, who was getting the idea.

'And to share transport to market. If we lose our agricul-tural production through some disaster-it would have to be the State deciding to take them away, something major like that-we still have wine and paper, we still have silk, we still have restaurants and we still have fan-tan and the lottery.'

'Which are illegal,' said Lin, to get a rise out of Uncle.

'Not at present.'

'Only because there are no Chinese policemen.'

'And may the Gracious Lady Kwan Yin protect us from there ever being any. While the games are played with beans and only cashed later, no one can prove that fan-tan is an illegal gambling game. And we get ten per cent. The more terrible the times, the more people gamble. Gambling gives them hope.'

'Even so...' Lin did not know how he felt about being a gambler. His uncle laughed and poured another cup of wine for both of them.

'You like this? South Australian and in a few years it will be almost drinkable. Look at it this way, scrupulous one. Men will gamble. We do not cheat them. If they win they can collect their winnings and there will not be a couple of people outside to relieve them of their so-heavy wallets and beat them to a pulp if they protest. We run an honest game. If we are not there-if young Lin Chung decides he is too moral to be concerned in such trade-then who will run it? Criminals,' said Uncle, banging down the empty cup. 'There are no people with one long fingernail and strange tattoos concerned in gambling in our establishments. But if the s.p.a.ce is empty, it will be filled. Heaven does not allow empty s.p.a.ces.'

'Very well, Uncle,' said Lin. 'I bow to your wisdom.'

'Good thing too. What is the use of wisdom if it is not bowed to?' Lin Chung filled the cup again. He wondered why Uncle did not just get a large gla.s.s, or a pint pot.

'So, from the beginning, our wise ancestors decided that we should do many different things. We have to avoid being noticed: it is not good to dominate any market, or there will be envy. Heaven also does not look favourably on any man growing too great. You will be expected to advise of new oppor-tunities and other markets which your inherited business sense will undoubtedly lead you towards.'

'I have always thought that there is a lot to be done in the making of garments,' said Lin Chung. 'It is always better to have a dress that one could sell at fifty guineas rather than a length of silk to be bought for ten.'

'Very risky, women's clothes.'

'I was thinking of undergarments,' said Lin reminiscently. 'Chemises, knickers. Pyjamas. They are not very susceptible to fashionable changes.'

'Ah,' sighed Uncle, clearly thinking of the same thing. He shook himself. 'Yes, possibly, but they would have to be at the very top end of the price range to be worth making, and those women prefer to have their clothes made by hand and to measure.'

'So they do,' agreed Lin, recalling how stockings rolled down Phryne's admirable legs, to be followed by a slither of knickers, and underneath...

Uncle rapped him smartly over the knuckles with an empty wine cup.

'Pay attention, nephew. To continue. There are no great holdings in shares in other companies. Most of our capital is in business or in land. We own several office buildings in the city, which are leased through an agent. The holdings are all here and you may take away the list and study it. Have some more wine. You are going to Castlemaine?'

'Yes, tomorrow.'

'Have a care. You can forget, in the city, especially in Little Bourke Street, how few Chinese there are in the outer world. There are very few in Castlemaine, though once there were thousands of us. You will be a curiosity in the town unless you have a suitable disguise.'

'A disguise, Uncle?' Lin Chung was taken aback.

'You want to make enquiries, you want to ask questions of people who believe that touching a Chinaman will give them jaundice,' said Uncle Lin placidly. 'There is only one proper disguise which will make you acceptable. I have arranged for it to be found-once I wore it myself-and here is our cousin with the garments. They are badly made but we have time to tailor them properly.'

Lin was worried. His uncle was not smiling.

'Do I really need a disguise, Uncle? You are not joking?'

'I never joke. And when I do, you will know, because you will laugh,' said Uncle Lin. 'Here you are. Try it on. Good. Your cousin will make the alterations. In that garment they will not like you, but they will not harm you and they might even talk to you. Are you taking your Shaolin with you?'

'No, he is keeping Miss Fisher's house safe. Something very odd is happening there.'

'If it happens when Li Pen is on watch it will be sorry,' chuckled Uncle. 'Probably better. He would certainly object to accompanying you, dressed like that.'

Li Pen turned in front of the mirror as his cousin applied pins. The collar was tight and uncomfortable and he wasn't at all sure that he could carry this off. What, after all, did Lin Chung know about being an Anglican clergyman?

He drank another cup of wine to take the taste out of his mouth and tried to remember where he had left his school copy of Hymns Ancient and Modern.

In the thirteenth year of the reign of the glorious Emperor Lord of the Dragon Throne Kwong Sui of the Ching Dynasty, 20th of April in the solar year 1855.

The elder brother Sung Ma sends greetings to his little sister Sung Mai. In this strange place the seasons are upside down. When I left home it was nearly spring, here it is nearly autumn to judge by the way the poplar trees are shedding their leaves. I must a.s.sume that this season is Stopping of Heat. We reached the goldfields after four days. The landscape has been ruined by all the holes dug by miners and the water and fire lines are completely disturbed. No wonder the place feels so disharmonious. The earth dragons must be very angry. The weather begins to be cold but the air tastes crisp, like a bite of Hami watermelon. Here with this letter I send my first gold to be given to you, little Mai, and your sister Lan, as a dowry. You must keep it safe. Tell Uncle that his unworthy nephew has provided it for you both and that he should find you good husbands. I am sending it by a trustworthy man, Chang Li, who lives near us and whom I have known since we were children. He has made his fortune and is going home. May I soon do likewise!

It is twenty ounces of alluvial gold and I dug it up while I was clearing a place for my tent. Mr Lin allowed me to keep it when I told him that it was your dowry. I have been caring for those who have developed water-on-the-chest, which I believe is caused by lack of fresh fruit or greens in the diet. I have prescribed us all as much fruit as we can buy in Bendigo and Mr Lin has sent the cart.

This is a rich place but there is much misery and filth and when the cold comes it will be worse. But soon we will be gone, I hope, if the fates are merciful to us.

The loving elder brother bids his little sister farewell and good fortune.

CHAPTER NINE.

Late at twilight I pa.s.sed the verdant hills And the mountain moon followed me home.

Li Po, translated by Lin Yutang It was morning. Breakfasted, Phryne was packing. In actual fact, she had thrown a load of clothes onto her bed and was considering what she might need when Dot came in, wearing a beige dress patterned with terracotta nasturtiums, and a worried expression.

'Miss? Let me do that. How long are you going to be away?'

'I don't know. Say a week.' Phryne sighed with relief and sat down to watch Dot sort, fold and pack the clothes. Any-thing Phryne folded instantly developed extra creases. Anything Dot touched flung itself into a perfect package and threw itself into the suitcase. 'Not the good underwear, it may have to be washed locally and local laundries are h.e.l.l on silk. Two light suits, I think, and one evening dress, c.o.c.ktail length. The Mayor may invite me to dinner. Or not, of course, but it is a good idea to be prepared. Paste or theatrical jewellery, I do not want to worry about it. Plus the male disguise and some cosmetics. And my gun. They play a little rough in the country, Dot, all those big strong men with shotguns and rustic ideas of humour. I don't know what this may entail.'

'I wish you were taking me! Or at least Mr Bert and Mr Cec, or Li Pen!' wailed Dot. She didn't like guns. Phryne's neat little pearl-handled Beretta was both strangely fascinating and horribly repulsive, like a gaily patterned coral snake.

'Bert and Cec are busy with their taxi, and in any case they seem very urban. Though I might be doing them a disservice. I will consult them, Dot, if you like. It never hurts to have a reserve, as the Duke of Wellington would say. And Li Pen is here to protect you and the girls and the Butlers and Eliza. If anyone tries anything with Li Pen around they will be pureed faster than you can say knife, otherwise I would not be leaving you. I don't want any more incidents and Mr Butler is to open all mail in the garden, is that clear? And don't tell anyone where I have gone.'

'Of course not, Miss Phryne,' said Dot, shocked.

'Miss Eliza may be better company than we thought, Dot dear. She has told me one of her dreadful secrets. She is a Fabian socialist.'

'Ah?' asked Dot, sorting stockings. 'Like Mr Bert and Mr Cec?'

'Precisely my response. My father seems to have split a gusset and flung her from the house, pausing only to watch her bounce and stating that until she recovered her senses and came back willing to marry either a brute of a boy or a very nasty old man, she was no longer his daughter.'

'It sounds like the plot of one of Miss Ruth's romances,' observed Dot, flicking a nightdress and dropping it back into perfect folds. She laid a sheet of newspaper over it which bore a plea for the relatives of Amelia Gascoigne to contact the paper, where they would learn something to their advantage. It seemed to be everywhere, thought Dot.

'I know. Father has always been the complete Victorian Paterfamilias and now he has the scope to conduct the whole blood-tub melodrama. Why do you think I moved to Australia? As far as one can get in the civilised world from Berkeley Square, W1 where the old grump resides when in London. And I was tossing up about a move to Easter Island.'

'You wouldn't have liked it there,' said Dot placidly.

'I know. But it does have a lot of granite heads and I was thinking of dropping one on Father. The brute of a man, he's had poor Beth cowed since she was a child, and he must have got such a shock when she wouldn't agree to marry either of his chosen ones. Which brings me to the point of all this gossip. Roderick, only heir to the Duke of Dunstable, is here. Eliza saw him at Luna Park and got the shock of her life. He's been threatening abduction and rape and she's frightened of him.'

'He being the brute of a boy?'asked Dot.

'Illiterate but nonetheless nasty,' agreed Phryne.

'He'll be sorry if he tries conclusions with Mr Li,' said Dot.

'Exactly my view. But just in case, I thought I'd warn you. Eliza can tell you what the little bounder looks like. Bash him with a skillet if he causes any trouble and bury the body under the hydrangeas.'