His wife puffed out her not inconsiderable chest. ‘You men.’ She gestured at Flora Donald. ‘The answer is sitting here at the table. Appoint Miss Donald the acting head teacher, then at least the school can reopen.’
‘No, that will never do,’ Mackie said. ‘With all due respect to Miss Donald, a man’s hand is needed at the school, and until we can find a suitable male teacher, it will need to stay closed.’
Eliza looked at the pompous, self-satisfied faces of the men at the table and fought back a mounting anger. ‘My apologies, gentlemen, but I fail to see why the appointment of a man to this position is so important? If Miss Donald is qualified and capable then why should she not be allowed to fill the position?’
Flora Donald cast her a sour look. ‘I don’t need you to speak for me, Miss Penrose.’
‘Flora is a certified teacher under the old Act, why can’t she be appointed as temporary head teacher and a new assistant found?’ Reverend Donald said.
Russell stroked his beard and sat back in his chair, the fingers of his other hand beating a silent tattoo on the table. ‘On reflection, if it means the school can reopen, I agree it seems sensible to put Miss Donald in charge for the time being with a suitable assistant. Do you think you can manage such a responsibility, Miss Donald?’
‘Of course I can.’
‘However, the question remains of an assistant. It is too much to expect you to manage with just a pupil assistant,’ Russell continued.
‘But how do we find someone qualified?’ Mackie asked.
Russell rolled his eyes. ‘We are a small town a hundred or so miles from Melbourne, we will make do.’
Mrs Jervis raised a hand. ‘What about Miss Penrose?”
Everyone turned to look at Eliza and her heart began to race. If she could secure a position at the local school, it would give her the time she needed to consider her future. She cleared her throat. ‘I would like to be considered for such an appointment,’ she said.
‘Eliza, my dear, there is a big difference between having the care of a few well-bred young ladies and a school of over seventy boisterous boys and girls,’ Cowper said. He shook his head. ‘No, I cannot possibly countenance such an appointment.’
His disapproval took her by surprise. ‘With the greatest respect, Uncle, it is hardly your decision.’
‘This is not a discussion to have in front of our guests, Eliza.’ His eyebrows rose in warning but Eliza ignored him.
‘It is not a discussion to be had at all. I’m qualified and experienced and if it is intended to be a temporary position, then I fail to see why I should not be considered. I’m very good with children and I’m not afraid of hard work. I have references from my previous positions.’
‘Being good with children is one thing,’ Mrs Mackie said, ‘but I am afraid many of the children—our own dear girls excepted of course—are not what you are used to back in England.’
‘I hear your concerns gentlemen—and ladies,’ Russell said. ‘But in the absence of any other alternative, I agree that Miss Penrose is a godsend. While we advertise for a new head teacher, isn’t it better that the children are in school, rather than running amok in the town?’
‘You cannot, of course, expect to be paid,’ Angus Mackie said.
Alec McLeod, who had seemed more intent on the food than the conversation, looked up. ‘Of course she can be paid,’ he said. ‘Good God, man. Do you expect her to work for nothing?’
Eliza shot him a grateful glance.
The store owner’s mouth open and closed several times. Clearly he had expected her to be an unremunerated volunteer. He looked at his fellow board members but got no support.
‘It will be cheaper if we were to use the pupil teacher. My own Agnes is more than capable,’ he said at last.
Russell gave the storekeeper a long, thoughtful look before clearing his throat and addressing Eliza. ‘In the circumstances, as the situation is only temporary, how would it be if we were to offer you three days at the school, Miss Penrose? We can, as Mr Mackie points out, manage with the pupil teachers on the other days, but if Miss Donald requires more assistance, we can negotiate something further.’
Eliza would have preferred at least five days’ paid work but it was better than nothing. As long as she could stay with her uncle without paying board, she could set aside a little money to pay her way back to Melbourne.
She summoned a smile. ‘Of course that would suit me, if it suits Miss Donald.’
‘Miss Donald?’ Russell turned to the newly appointed acting head teacher.
Flora Donald’s lips tightened so hard that her mouth became a disapproving slash. She took a breath and gave Eliza a smile not echoed by her eyes. ‘It seems an acceptable arrangement,’ she said.
Russell smiled at her. ‘As the Board of Advice are all present—gentlemen, are we in agreement?’
A murmur of assent went around the table.
Eliza glanced at Flora Donald, expecting a nod of acknowledgement at the very least, only to be met by a glacial stare. Clearly Flora Donald had taken against her. Eliza summoned a smile. ‘I look forward to working with you, Miss Donald. When do we reopen the school?’
‘Today is Monday. Word will need to go out to those families in remote communities, so … shall we say Wednesday?’ Russell said.
‘Wednesday will be fine,’ Flora Donald said. ‘If that suits you, Miss Penrose?’
‘Of course. Shall we meet tomorrow and discuss how best to proceed?’
Flora Donald sniffed. ‘Very well, come to the school house at eleven.’
Russell clapped his hands. ‘Excellent. Thank you both, ladies. You have retrieved a difficult situation. Now, are there any more of those excellent potatoes?’
As the chatter around the table turned to more mundane matters, Eliza watched Alec McLeod covertly heaping another serve of vegetables and potatoes onto his plate. She leaned toward him.
‘Mr McLeod,’ she said in a low voice, ‘you eat like a man who hasn’t seen food in weeks.’
The man had the grace to pause, spots of colour appearing on his high cheekbones as he looked at his plate. ‘Not food like this. I have a housekeeper who cooks for Ian and me, but …’
‘Her repertoire is limited?’
‘Aye, that is one way of putting it.’
Flora Donald turned to him. ‘I cannot help but overhear, Mr McLeod. I would be more than happy to help with some proper meals for you and your dear brother. Scotch broth, colcannon, neeps and tatties …’
Eliza saw it all written in the woman’s desperate eyes. No wonder Flora Donald had taken against her, she saw her as a potential rival for Alec McLeod’s affections. The thought almost made Eliza laugh aloud. She had met the man precisely three times and their first acquaintance had hardly been auspicious. She had no idea if Flora Donald and Alec McLeod had any sort of understanding, but Flora had no reason to fear her.
Alec looked from one woman to the other. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Bridget O’Grady does fine by us but I’m sure we’d not say no to a bowl of good broth every now and then.’
Flora beamed but before she could respond, Angus Mackie claimed her attention, leaving Eliza and Alec staring at each other.
‘Have I got something on my nose?’ she asked.
Alec turned back to his nearly empty plate. ‘I was just thinking you don’t resemble your brother.’
She shook her head. ‘No, William was a typical Cornishman: dark haired and fine-boned. Before my uncle lost his hair, he had the same chestnut colouring that I have. All my mother’s family had it.’ She glanced at the other dinner guests and lowered her voice, ‘You missed the discussion on my brother’s failings and his association with an inappropriate woman.’
‘Oh, you mean Sissy?’
‘Is it true? Did he offer her marriage?’
Alec’s gaze flicked to her uncle. ‘A conversation for another time, Miss Penrose.’
‘Eliza,’ she replied. ‘May I call you Alec?’
<
br /> He smiled, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling.
‘What are you talking about?’ Flora Donald’s strident tones cut across them.
‘The weather,’ Alec said. ‘I was just telling Miss Penrose that it can snow here in July.’
Flora’s narrowed eyes flashed from one to the other.
‘Perhaps you could advise me, Mrs Mackie,’ Eliza said. ‘I need to find a bootmaker. My footwear is not up to the rugged paths or hard weather.’
Mr Mackie beamed. ‘Of course, Miss Penrose. We keep a stock of hardy boots and you’ll be needing an oilskin too. It is an inelegant form of clothing but effective against the cold and wet.’
‘You are encouraging,’ Eliza Penrose said as the others nodded agreement.
Alec smiled. ‘And in summer you will roast. This is a country of extremes.’
Mrs Russell straightened in her chair. ‘I hope we will see you at the dance on Saturday night, Miss Penrose?’
Eliza glanced at her uncle. ‘Dance?’
‘A celebration of the anniversary of our dear Queen’s coronation. The Ladies’ Committee believes regular social engagement makes for a happy community,’ Mrs Jervis said.
‘Miss Penrose is in mourning,’ Flora Donald said.
Eliza had momentarily forgotten that her official status as the bereaved daughter and sister precluded social invitations. ‘I think my life is my concern,’ she said stiffly.
Flora Donald drew a sharp breath but nothing more was said.
As she closed the door on the last guest, Eliza turned to find her uncle standing behind her in the dimly lit hallway.
‘Eliza, I really must object to this mad idea of taking on the school.’
‘I don’t understand why. I thought you would be pleased to have me independent.’
‘I would be happier to see you comfortably set up in Melbourne. Maiden’s Creek is no place for you.’
‘So you keep saying, but I have seen no evidence that it is unsuitable. The people who dined here tonight were perfectly respectable, and as for taking a position at the school, if you wish me to pay board, of course I shall, within the limits of my earnings.’
He took a step back. ‘No. That’s not what I meant.’
‘Then what did you mean?’
‘I had to watch Will become corrupted by this town,’ he said. ‘I won’t stand by and watch the same thing happen to you.’
‘I am hardly likely to take up with a prostitute, Uncle. Or spend my nights in drunken maundering in one of the public houses.’
‘Of course not,’ he said.
She touched his arm. ‘Just give me some time. You heard the board members tonight, they have no intention of allowing a woman to remain as head teacher. As soon as a new man is appointed, Miss Donald will go back to being assistant teacher and I will no longer have employment here.’
He patted her hand. ‘I worry about you, Eliza.’
He hadn’t concerned himself about her for the last five years, but she smiled. ‘Please don’t trouble yourself,’ she said.
‘If you are set on it, I’ll bid you good night, my dear, and thank you. It was a pleasure to have a lady gracing my table tonight.’
Eliza shut her bedroom door and lay down fully clothed, letting her thoughts drift over the events of the evening and, in particular, the terrible accusations against Will. What could she do to salvage her brother’s reputation?
‘I need to understand,’ she whispered aloud. ‘I need to understand why you died, Will, and I’m not leaving until you are at peace.’
Eight
Alec returned home to find Ian slumped in Alec’s chair, staring at the fire. He looked up as Alec closed the door behind him, shutting out the winter evening.
‘Problem?’ Alec employed the simple sign that the two used, a question mark drawn on the palm of the hand.
Ian nodded. He hauled himself out of the chair and fetched his satchel from his bedroom. He set the bag on the table with a thump.
‘What have you got in there, rocks?’
‘I need your advice.’ Ian unbuckled the satchel and removed two heavy ledgers. Alec recognised the Maiden’s Creek Mine gold register. He picked up the second ledger—that belonging to the Shenandoah Mine.
‘What are you doing with these? Cowper will dismiss you on the spot if he knows you have them.’
‘Tell me what you think,’ Ian said and opened the Maiden’s Creek ledger.
Alec ran a finger along the rows of numbers and frowned.
Ian studied his face intently as he said, ‘It shows production of gold is up for the last couple of months—by a lot.’ He shook his head. ‘That can’t be right. We’ve made no major finds. Production should be similar to what it was in March. This is showing a yield of three ounces to the ton.’
Ian nodded. ‘That’s what I thought,’ he said. ‘Now look at this.’
Ian opened the Shenandoah ledger. With a pang, Alec recognised Will Penrose’s neat copperplate, which ended abruptly with his death. The writing changed to an unknown hand, a rougher, heavier hand. That of Jack Tehan, Alec surmised.
‘Where did you get this?’
Ian looked away. ‘I took it from the safe in Cowper’s office. Tehan brought it in this morning. I have to do the reports for the Mine Inspector and it struck me as strange that one mine was showing a leap in profits while the other seemed to be declining.’
Alec studied the figures and looked up at his brother. ‘I agree, this shows a decline in production at the Shenandoah for a couple of months before Penrose’s death and since then—’ he let out a low whistle, ‘—it’s almost tailed off to nothing.’
‘Does that seem strange to you?’
Alec nodded. Surely the mine inspector would notice such a discrepancy, or could the differences be accounted for if the figures were viewed in isolation? He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Are you suggesting that gold from Shenandoah is being used to bolster the returns of Maiden’s Creek?’
‘That’s exactly what I think. Why would Cowper do that?’ Ian reached for the paper and pencil he kept handy on the mantelpiece and handed it to Alec. There were times when their conversation became too complex or Ian was simply too tired to lipread. Now was one of those times.
Alec saw all too clearly how Cowper benefitted and he wrote, ‘Two reasons. The increase in gold production from Maiden’s Creek bolsters the shareholdings of that mine while lessening the value of the shareholdings for the Shenandoah. He’s already got Penrose’s shares and when the other shareholders return from their travels, they will find their investment worth nothing and he can buy them out for a pittance.’
Ian stared at him. ‘That’s … ruthless.’
‘Cowper IS ruthless,’ Alec wrote. ‘Remember how he moved on the Blue Sailor after the fires last year?’
Ian nodded, his brow creased. ‘What do I do? What else is Cowper lying about?’
Alec looked into his brother’s troubled face and his conscience lashed him. He thought about Will Penrose’s design for the boiler. If Cowper was a thief, stealing gold from the Shenandoah, was he any better?
He put his head in hands and groaned aloud.
‘Alec?’
Alec drew his hands down his face and looked into his brother’s clear eyes. He chewed the end of the pencil and wrote, ‘I have a question for you. What would you do if you knew something you intended to do would make your fame and fortune and would mean you would never have to live in poverty again?’
He passed the note to Ian, who read it and looked up. ‘But?’
Alec wrote, ‘By doing so you were depriving an innocent party of what was rightfully theirs?’
Ian shook his head. ‘That would be wrong. It breaks at least two commandments.’ He paused and realisation dawned in his eyes, ‘You’re not talking about Cowper, are you? Alec, what have you done?’
‘I haven’t done anything yet,’ Alec wrote.
Ian cast him a questioning look.
‘I
want to tell you, but I can’t. I don’t know how to make it right,’ Alec wrote.
Windlass jumped onto Alec’s lap and he absentmindedly stroked the tom’s broad head.
‘Start by telling me the truth,’ Ian said. ‘Perhaps I can help.’
Alec dislodged Windlass as he stood up. He fetched Will Penrose’s folder from its hiding place and unfolded the plan on the table for Ian to study. Ian knew enough about engineering to recognise what he was looking at. His long fingers ran over the detailed drawings.
‘Who did this?’
‘Will Penrose. I helped with some of the calculations but it is all Penrose’s work.’
‘What does it do?’
‘It’s a design for a boiler. I won’t bore you with the details, but it will revolutionise the amount of power a boiler can put out. Though there’s a fundamental flaw in one of the calculations that I haven’t resolved yet.’
‘So it’s worthless?’
‘Worse than that. It’s dangerous.’
Ian looked at his brother and frowned. ‘Why do you have it?’
‘The morning Penrose was found dead, I found this pushed under our door.’
‘I don’t understand. Why would he give it to you?’
Alec shook his head and said aloud. ‘I don’t know.’ He paused and wrote, ‘Yes, I do … Safekeeping. Penrose must have suspected someone knew about it and wanted it.’
Ian studied him for a long moment, his clear, wise eyes searing Alec’s soul. ‘You were going to register the patent?’
Alec did not reply.
‘But it’s not yours.’
‘I know.’ Alec wanted to say that it seemed so straightforward when the reality of the legal heir, or in this case, heiress, to the plans was not a tangible presence in Maiden’s Creek.
The Goldminer's Sister Page 7