by Clare Flynn
When they were all supplied with tea and a selection of sandwiches, she whispered to Peggy that she would like a few minutes alone with Mr Kidd.
'That's fine, my dear - but you won't get much out of him you know. Miserable old codger if you'll pardon my language.'
She nudged her husband and ushered him from the room, leaving Elizabeth alone to face her would-be suitor.
She took a deep breath, thankful that her father had not shared his matchmaking plans with his landlady.
'Mr Kidd, I understand you have paid for the funeral. I'm very grateful to you for doing that and for being a friend to my father. You have been very kind. I will repay you in full - but I'd be grateful if you would grant me some time. I must find employment - I hope to work as a music teacher but finding the right...'
He interrupted the rapid flow of her words, raising a hand in front of him as he spoke, as though halting traffic.
'You won't be teaching - there's no call for that where we'll be going.' He looked at the floor rather than addressing his remarks to her face. 'I've a trip to make but I'll be back in three weeks. We'll be wed when I return. Then we'll head up home to the Blue Mountains - there's plenty there for you to do, but won't be teaching music.'
As if exhausted by an unusually high outflow of words, he settled back in his chair and resumed eating, stuffing his mouth with the delicate sandwiches as if he hadn't eaten for a week.
'I can't marry you. It's out of the question. I only came here to join my father. I don't wish to be rude and I'm honoured that you should think me worthy of a proposal of marriage, but it is impossible for me to accept. We don't even know each other.'
Without waiting to finish his mouthful he answered her. 'It's all settled.'
'What do you mean? Now my father is dead I answer to no one.'
'You answer to me. That's the deal. Didn't your daddy tell you?'
'What deal? What should he have told me? He wrote to me that you'd offered to marry me and he sent the ticket for the journey here. I came because I wanted to start a new life here with Father. Now he's dead I'll just have to do it without him, but do it I will. I'll repay the funeral cost as soon as I can. I intend to start looking for a teaching position tomorrow.'
Kidd put down his plate. 'His debts were more than the funeral costs. He lost twenty thousand pounds to me at cards. And there's another twenty-five thousand he ran up with some other fellas that are a lot less understanding than I am. I paid them off too. So I get you in return. That's the deal.'
Elizabeth felt her blood freeze in her veins. 'Are you saying my father used me to settle his gambling debts?'
Kidd acknowledged the question with a nod.
'You're lying.' Her voice was chilly and she rose to her feet, summoning an imperious posture and expression, belying the rising panic within her.
Kidd looked up at her. 'Don't believe me. Believe him.' He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and drew out a sealed envelope. As she read the letter the room began to spin around her.
My dearest Lizzie
There is no way to make this any better so I'm just going to write the facts. May you and God forgive me for what I have done but I could find no alternative.
I lost a fortune at cards to Jack Kidd and he offered to relieve me of my debts if I agreed to his marrying you. I had shown your picture to him during our games. I was so proud of you. I know now this was my own foolish vanity and I should have been more circumspect. He was very taken with your photograph. When my luck went against me he made an offer to marry you. Of course I refused and asked for time to repay him, but word had already spread of the other losses I had sustained, for which I had already borrowed large sums of money from some men with little patience and no scruples. To come to the point, dear Lizzie, threats were made and I feared for my life. I agreed to Mr Kidd's proposal, thinking it would buy me some time to find an alternative solution. I did not intend to involve you at all but Kidd stood over me while I wrote my letter to you. Since its despatch - which he undertook himself - I have prayed every day that you would react as I would expect my Lizzie to do, by tearing up the ticket and concluding that your poor father had gone quite mad.
I have decided I can no longer bear the shame, guilt and unhappiness that have become my way of life. I will end it tonight. I am sending this letter to Kidd to give to you in the unlikely possibility that you do come to Australia. I have not told him what I am about to do - but he has probably guessed. If you are reading this now my prayers have been in vain. I have tortured myself trying to find another solution to my troubles - one that would keep you from having to fulfil my shameful debt. I cannot see any way out. I can only hope that your good nature will succeed where I have failed in prevailing on him to think again. May God have mercy on you - I deserve no mercy for myself, but I beg for your forgiveness and that of God and your beloved mother.
Your loving but unworthy father
William M Morton
Elizabeth folded the paper and raised her eyes to look at Kidd. 'Did you know he intended to take his own life?'
The man looked ashamed but said nothing.
'Mr Kidd, I appeal to you as an honourable man. Free me from this contract. Don't hold me to a bargain made by a man out of his mind with worry. I don't expect you to do me any favours, but can you do one for him? I swear I will do everything to repay every penny of his debt to you.'
'I'm not interested in money. I need a wife and I've chosen you.'
'You can find another wife - someone who wants to marry you - someone who would care for you. I don't even know you. I can never care for you. I'd be an unwilling prisoner. I'd make you unhappy. I'd be unhappy myself. Please! You must understand that?'
Kidd got up and went to the door. At the threshold he looked back at her. 'I'll take my chances. We'll marry when I get back.'
When he had gone, Elizabeth curled her feet underneath her on the chair and stared out through the sunlit window. She could not take in what had happened. Her father had sold her into slavery - dramatic as this sounded, it was effectively what had happened. Someone must be able to help? Mrs Little would know what to do.
The door opened and Peggy Little entered the room. 'My dear, Mr Kidd has just told me you're to be married! All very sudden, but I'm pleased for you - he's a very wealthy man. You'll want for nothing. I hope you'll be very happy.' The woman moved towards Elizabeth with her arms outspread to embrace her.
'Peggy, you have to help me. I can't marry that man. It's not my choice. Father owed him a fortune and in exchange agreed that we should marry. I can't be expected to go through with it. It's barbaric. I'll find some other way to repay the debt. I'll go to the church and tell the minister that the marriage is against my will then it can't possibly go ahead. Help me to convince Mr Kidd that it's crazy. Please, Peggy, I need your advice about finding work - I'll do anything - domestic service probably pays more than music teaching? Or I could work in a shop? Whatever it takes. Anything's better than marrying that man.'
Peggy Little began to twitch at the corners of her apron as she had done the previous day.
'I can't help you. I'm sorry and I wish to God I could help but I've no choice. Your father owed money to me. Mr Kidd settled his debts - he's paid ten month's worth of lodgings on your father's behalf as well as your board for the next 3 weeks. If I were to help you, God knows what he'd do. He's a powerful man and my Fred would kill me if I crossed him. We have the children to think of too. We can't go against a man like Kidd. I'm really sorry, my love. It's not such a bad plan. He has plenty of money - mining interests they say and land as well. You could do worse, my dear. Better to have a home, you being all alone.'
'My God, I can't believe it. You are a woman for heaven's sake! Can't you understand I can't possibly marry that old man? Not only do I not love him - I find everything about him and what he's done to my father an abomination. Did you know my father killed himself? He left me a letter. He couldn't forgive himself for what he had done and he hoped that h
is death might force Kidd to show some compassion. Fat chance!' Her voice was shrill now.
'Now, now, my dear, don't upset yourself. Nothing's as bad as it seems. I'm sorry about your father - I'm not one to judge others - and no one will hear about it from me - as far I'm concerned it was a dreadful accident. Knowing otherwise won't bring him back and I won't speak ill of the dead.' She hugged Elizabeth to her ample bosom.
Elizabeth pulled away to speak again.
'Father was hoping I'd ignore his invitation to Australia - and I would have done... had not ... had not something terrible happened. I'd no idea I was walking into a trap. Jack Kidd believes he's bought me like a piece of meat. Help me, Peggy.'
'Hush, dear. No point in tears. It won't do any good. I wish I could help, my lovely - but there's nothing I can do. You'll have to make the best of it.'
'No woman should be expected to marry a man she doesn't love.'
'Love?' Peggy sighed. 'That doesn't last long. They're all the same really, men – farting, belching and snoring and taking up most of the bed. Sleep, food and their conjugals - that's all they want. A wife's just there to wash, cook, clean and service his needs in bed. Never mind her own needs! Yes there may be many men more handsome than Jack Kidd, but there's few as well off - and believe me Elizabeth - you won't see what he looks like when the light's out!' She laughed bitterly. 'We women have a lot to put up with, young lady and the sooner you realise that the better. At least you'll never have to worry where your next crust of bread's coming from. The first two years I was married I never knew from one day to the next if I was going to be able to put a meal on the table. Love doesn't help when you're hungry. By the time my Fred was making decent money we'd forgotten our romantic notions. You settle into a steady old pattern. Get used to each other. Put up with the shortcomings – there's children to keep you busy and to care for. Jack Kidd may not be the man you dreamed of, but then the man you dreamed of wouldn't be that for long either. If you've no expectations, you'll never be disappointed.'
Elizabeth rubbed her eyes with her handkerchief, then saw it was the rough-spun confection that Michael Winterbourne had given her the previous afternoon. She breathed through the coarse cotton trying to recapture the scent of him - a mix of hay and warm tweed and the outdoors.
Her stomach lurched. It was already nearly noon and it would take her a good half hour to get to the meeting place. He may never want to see her again when he knew her story, but she had to take the risk.
She jumped up, grabbed her coat and bade an astonished Mrs Little goodbye.
'Where are you off to in such a hurry?'
'I promised to meet someone I met on the voyage. I'm late.'
'I hope you're not thinking of doing anything foolish my love?' But Elizabeth was already out of the door and running along the street.
As soon as she left the Littles and retraced the steps she had taken the previous day, she ran into the crowds. She had never seen so many people. They were all heading the way she was and she was swept along in their midst. She began to panic as the pace slowed right down as the volume of people increased, merging on the same spot from all directions. She tried to turn back and find an alternative route, but the people kept on coming, pushing forward excitedly, many carrying flags and bags of confetti. When she tried to push her way back, a man elbowed her in the ribs and she stumbled and fell. Someone yanked her to her feet but in the crush she couldn't see who had helped her. The noise was getting louder, cheering and singing. She turned to a woman and asked her, 'Is someone getting married?' The woman looked at Elizabeth as if she'd lost her mind, shook her head and turned away without answering. Over the heads of the crowd in front she saw a large building, with a portico and clock tower, the façade of the building hung with enormous flags – the Union Jack and the flag of Australia. She turned to another person and asked 'Where's everyone going? What's happening?'
This time a man answered her. 'To see the Digger Prince. Where've you been hiding darling? Up on the planet Mars?'
'The Digger Prince?'
'The future king himself.' The man assumed a hammy English accent: 'His Royal Highness, Edward, Prince of Wales. Look there he is – up there on the platform. The fella waving his hat at us.'
She pushed herself onto her tiptoes but the crowd was so dense she couldn't make out the figure of the Prince. She turned back to the man. 'How do I get through? I need to go down to the Harbour, past the Circular Quay.'
The man laughed. 'Not yet you won't. You'll have to wait your turn and follow the crowd. We all want to get a glimpse or even have a touch.'
'But I don't. Please. I don't want to see the Prince. I just want to get past.'
The people around her started mumbling in disapproval. The man spoke again. 'Did you hear her? She doesn't want to see the Prince! Her a pommie and all. Bloody unpatriotic I call it. You should be ashamed of yourself.'
Almost screaming in frustration, Elizabeth had to concede defeat and shuffle along with the masses in the slow, steady advance towards the Town Hall.
Chapter Seven - Separated
Michael sat on the stone seat overlooking the harbour. The beauty and brightness before him contrasted with his own downcast spirits. The sun shone down through the trees and the water in the Harbour was deepest azure. In the branches of a eucalyptus tree a parrot flashed white against the dark of the leaves and screeched. He looked at his watch again. Where was she?
Yesterday, he had felt for the first time in his life that someone understood him. She sensed his feelings without the need for words, shared his loneliness and seemed to suffer from her own inner demons. He had seen the sadness in her eyes. He longed to comfort her.
But she had not come. She must have thought better of it. He wished he hadn't kissed her. It was too soon. She must have thought him presumptuous, a chancer. She was from another world. There had been something about being here in Australia that had led him to forget the class barriers that in England would have prevented them from so much as having a conversation, let alone sharing an embrace. Yet the memory of her lips against his, the warmth of them as she gave herself over to the kiss, belied his doubts. She had wanted him as much as he had her. He knew it to be true. But she was not here. What did that say?
He thought of the lads from Manchester and how they'd jeered at his pretensions towards Elizabeth. Hadn't they said she was out of his class? And the obnoxious Mrs Briars had made it clear that a man like him was unworthy to clean the shoes of the likes of her and Elizabeth. She must have been caught up in the moment yesterday, grief for her father getting the better of her judgement. In the cold light of day she must have realised he wasn't good enough for her. And how could she want a man who had killed his own brother?
He waited on the rocky seat they had occupied the previous day, until the sun sank and the huge sleeping bats that had been hanging motionless from the trees around him, awoke and started their swirling flights, ghoulish silhouettes against the darkening sky.
He walked through the dusk, to Woolloomooloo and into the bar next door to his lodgings, where he asked for a beer.
'Middy or schooner?' asked the woman behind the counter.
Michael shook his head, puzzled.
'Fresh off the boat?' She explained the difference between the measures and served him a schooner from one of the many beer taps all identically labelled Tooth's Draught.
He gulped the cold liquid down and asked for a second. The bar was empty, save for the woman who was serving and an old man at the far end of the counter. The woman, presumably the proprietor's wife, showed no interest in conversation, serving Michael's second glass wordlessly, before returning to polishing glasses.
He looked around. The pub was more like a public toilet than a drinking establishment. The walls were covered in white tiles and the floor was covered in sawdust.
He turned back to the woman. 'You know where I can get work?'
Without looking up she replied, her voice bored. 'What kinda work,
mate?'
'Anything on the land or with animals.'
'Sheep or cattle?'
'Either.'
'Talk to Big Billy Carter. He's only in town one more day but he's hiring hands. Has a sheep farm up at Fairtown.'
'How'll I know him?'
'You'll know him. Built like a brick wall and more than six foot tall. Everyone knows Billy'
He asked for another beer. The woman poured it then looked at him.
'You from England mate?"
'Arrived yesterday. On the Historic.'
'So you don't know about the Six o'clock Swill?'
'I don't.' He didn't particularly want to either.
'It's the law. No drinks served after six o'clock. Better get them in now mate, as in a few minutes it'll be pandemonium and you won't have a Buckley's chance of getting another – they'll be ten deep at the bar. Moment the whistle blows at the dock they all pile in here. You won't believe how fast they get 'em down their necks.'
The prospect of the onrush to come was not an appealing one, but more to appease her than anything, he agreed to line up another pint. As she predicted, the place filled up rapidly and Michael's solitary corner was invaded, as the crowd pushed into all the available space. The noise was deafening and the woman behind the bar was joined by her husband and daughter and the trio kept up a virtuoso performance of high speed pint pulling.
He was about to move through the room to seek out Billy Carter, but the words of the group around him filtered into his consciousness and he listened with growing interest. There were three or four men, about his age and one of them had just returned from a mining town, where he had earned substantial sums of money.
'I tell you mates, I never had it so good. They just can't get the stuff out the ground fast enough and they're willing to pay a fortune if you don't mind going underground. They're so desperate for workers they're even bringing in Chinamen to do the jobs.'
'You don't say?'
'No word of a lie. I'm quids in. Reckon in another six months I'll have enough to buy a place for myself and I can say goodbye to the mines and be my own boss on my own land.'