The Killing of Louisa

by Janet Lee

  I look to Alice as May says this, and it is clear that she has heard the child. The guardian has a look of surprise upon her face too, but they neither of them say anything.

  Then May starts crying again and says she thought she had got it wrong when she spoke in court, and she felt bad that the lawyers made so much of her words that they gave the thought to the jury that I was guilty. But, she says, the lawyers asked her so many times about everything that she got confused and had not known what to say in the end.

  Then, between her sobs, May asks me if she has caused me to be hung, because she said the wrong thing. I hug her and say that if this does happen it will be because of the men in court and the government and not because of my little May, because she is only a child.

  But I think if May changes her story, then they can never find me guilty.

  Then the guardian steps forward and says it is time to be leaving, and I ask for a few more minutes, for pity’s sake, and she steps back. I keep hugging May and her sobbing eases, and I say that I would like her to come to see me again soon and I kiss her goodbye.

  As soon as she leaves I ask that I might go to the chaplain and write a letter.

  I write to ask the Governor that May be allowed to talk to the judge, for she is now not sure of her testimony.

  In the House

  Wednesday was largely occupied by the affair of Louisa Collins, whose method of procuring a divorce by means of arsenic is open to serious objection.

  The Sydney Morning Herald17

  42.

  After his fight with Michael, Charles and I were very unhappy, sir, and then there was Christmas, and we trudged on into the new year.

  But it was really only some six weeks after their argument that Charles became sick and it was as though his very saying of the words that we wanted him out of the way had placed a curse upon him.

  His illness began slowly. Charles came home from work earlier than usual one afternoon, having left complaining of a sore belly. It was most unlike him to be unwell, as he was known for being a good worker and reliable. He came home that day and spent time in the privy, then he took to his bed and, while there, he vomited several times.

  I remember clearly the day Charles first got really sick because he had planned to be killing a pig. Now, I did not like it when he killed the pigs for he would slit their throats and they would gurgle their last scream as the blood gushed out of them. And we had lost money in Muswellbrook because of a pig.

  But since we had moved to Botany, Charles had taken more to killing them than beasts, because he could handle one on his own, whereas killing a beast was more difficult and required a gun to shoot the beast in the head, dead centre – they have such thick skulls, sir – and we did not have a crush or the equipment needed and nowhere to hang a beast. Charles had a small pen for the pig and he would let it roam in the swamp, and then when it got to a certain size he would kill it.

  On the day that he was going to be killing the pig, Charles had a pain in the stomach and he was vomiting and had a bad bowel, which was most unpleasant. He was still able to get to the privy though, and so most of his being unwell was occurring in there, but of course he was not able to kill the pig.

  By the next day he had taken to his bed, and he really did not get up from there again, sir.

  There are those who are so often unwell they take delight in it and like to share their aches and pains with the world, describing every incident to others. Mrs Malone was like that, and she would have gladly described every piece of phlegm which ever came from her, should you care to ask. But Charles was not someone who took to illness, and in the time we had been together I can only recall he had been unwell on a small few occasions.

  This time, I first thought he might have the influenza, or a sickness on account of the swamp across the road, for in the years we had lived at Botany there had been more and more people come to live in Frog’s Hollow and whenever there is a crowd of people there are often sicknesses and more privies. And on occasion people would be sick and would blame the swamp, but I really did not know, sir, and that was why I later sent for the doctor.

  Charles’s taking to his bed and my needing to nurse him called something of a truce between us and gave us some opportunity to reconcile. It is often the way that things are forgiven when someone becomes ill.

  Yet even after taking to his bed, Charles did not improve and so I sent someone on the tram to Elizabeth Street to ask the doctor to call, which he did late that night. He examined Charles and it was Charles himself who spoke with him and said he had pain and was very unwell with vomiting, and the doctor did not seem overly alarmed. He prescribed a mixture of certain powders. I cannot tell you what they were, for I never read the piece of paper, just handed it with some coin to one of the children and asked them to get the paper made up by the chemist. And I said if the chemist failed to attend, they were to knock on the door until they did, for I felt that the doctor would know best for my husband, or else there was no need for me to send for him to come at all, and there was the expense of his visit besides.

  When the powders came, I mixed the medicine in a small glass, as the doctor had directed, and I gave this to Charles. But he did not seem to improve much, although he no longer had upset bowels.

  The next day Charles was no better and if anything he was in greater pain, beyond the pain in his stomach. I tried to give him some milk and cod liver oil, but he refused as he said it tasted bitter. I said it might settle his stomach, but he said he did not want it.

  And as he was not one of those who are often sick, I was surprised at his condition and not really sure as what to do and the house was full of people, all giving their opinion, and I am sure it was well meant, but it made me very confused. Mr Collis, Mr Kneller and the other neighbours were coming in several times a day, and this was good for Charles as he seemed to be interested in their news and he asked kindly after their own wives and children. And no one could give any advice as to why he was sick and none of the medicine the doctor said to use seemed to make him any better.

  Charles disliked being idle for he had always been an active man. By that time, he could not make it out to the privy and I was needing to tend to him in that way and wash him and for a man such as my husband Charles, well, he found that very improper.

  He did not improve.

  He had hardly slept through the night and was tired and so after I had fixed the breakfast – although he himself ate nothing, I fed the children before sending them out to the neighbours – I sat down beside him and I remember it was just us in the room, which was uncommon, as at that time, between the neighbours coming to see how Charles was and the children, it seemed that the house was always full. But I remember that we were alone, for Charles said he would like to tell me of something in private. And it was then that he told me of his life insurance policy.

  43.

  Charles said that some years earlier a man selling life insurance had come to the factory where Charles was working at the time, and that this man had told all of the workers about an insurance policy they could take out to safeguard their families. The man had asked the workers how their children would survive if they themselves were not around to provide for them, and Charles had decided that he would sign up for the policy.

  When Charles was telling me this, he could not recall the actual date he had first begun this arrangement and he said he had told me of it at the time, but I could not recall him ever mentioning it, sir. The lawyers and the papers say I killed Charles for his money, but why would I do this when I knew nothing of this insurance money until after Charles became sick?

  And it was Charles himself, when he was sick, who asked me to see the insurance man to make sure all was in order with his life insurance, although there is no one else who can confirm this, I do not think. So, I made the ride into the city, catching the tram to the insurance office.

  The man
at the insurance office said that if my husband was ill I should look that his will was in order, because even though Charles said his life insurance money would come to me, it would be best to have this confirmed in a will. I said that I did not know if Charles had a will as I did not think that the poorer people needed such things and it was only those grander folk with their estates and entailments and such who needed to think of wills. But the insurance man said Charles should have one and he arranged the wording of it, and he sat with me asking the details of our property and if we owned a house and land or livestock, and I was most humbled because I had no such property as he was asking. And I thought of how we used to have King and the wagon and the butcher shop, and now we only had some furniture, which I described to him, and some small amount of money in the savings which Charles had at the bank, although I was not sure of the exact amount of that, sir.

  I felt very poor as I sat in the big office in that building. I do not know if you have seen them, but they are all marble and shiny and grand as though you might be in a palace, and it is plain to see where it is that the money you might store in a bank or insurance goes – on building luxury such as this. Each of the teller sections had a gas light and here I was sitting at a grand table, talking of our furniture – the kitchen table and the few chairs, and the settle which sat in the parlour, and our bed, and the dresser which sat under the window, and the beds of our children – and I asked the gentleman if I should include the washing copper and the pots and pans in the kitchen, for I still had the good teapot from the Missus and the frying pan from Cook. He said he did not think so. Then I asked if I should mention the paintings upon the walls and he said what type were they and I said one was from the Missus and she had given it to me when we first set up home, and he said he did not think so, and so I did not tell him of the ones which were on the wall and which came from the paper and showed sheep stations and pictures of grand houses.

  I sat there and I thought that I did not have very much, even after all the years of marriage. And I looked down at my hands and I did not even have gloves upon them, as you were supposed to when you came into town. I thought back to my days cleaning the house for the Missus, and touching the pretty things and thinking I should have a house like that one day, and now I did not have it and my husband was ill and I would have no one to feed all my children.

  And I began to cry a little, and the man gave me a gentle smile and said though he did not think the will would be needed because my husband would soon be well, he would write the will out himself and make sure he wrote it all proper and then all I would need to do was have two men witness Charles signing it. If he thought me too poor with the few possessions that I spoke of, he did not say as much.

  When he had finished writing upon the paper he gave it to me and told me I must get my husband to sign it in front of the men. So I caught the tram back to Botany and saw to Charles, who had not improved while I was out. I put the piece of paper aside for some time to tend to him, for he was in the way of needing some cleaning – although I shall not go into details about that, sir – for though the children had sat with him and kept him good company, they had not looked after him as a wife might. Once I had tidied Charles and made him comfortable, he asked me how I had got on at the life insurance people, and I said they had told me he should sign a will if he thought himself that unwell. As I said it, I realised I had not mentioned the bed on which Charles lay, which was a fold-out stretcher type that we had placed in the sitting room so that he may look out the window easier. But I suppose the stretcher was not worth much.

  Charles said that he would like to see the will then, and I said there was no hurry, for he would soon be well and Charles said he would like to see the will anyway and there was no time like the present and so I fetched it.

  He read through the will and said I should have it witnessed then and there and that I should go next door and see if any of the men were home for he would read it aloud and sign it now.

  And so it was at his urging that I went to find some men to sign his will and saw Mrs Collis and asked if the men were at home, for I needed them. So those who said that I was urging for the will to be signed, well, I was, but I was urging on Charles’s behalf, you see.

  When the men came into the sitting room to sign the documents, Charles was lying upon the settle, for he was not always in the fold-out bed when he was sick, as it often needed airing, you will understand.

  Charles read his will aloud and then he signed it, and the men put their signatures on the page also.

  And then the men left.

  Charles got sicker and sicker. And on his last morning, his voice was very weak.

  He said he wanted to tell me something, and I said he should save his strength, for by that time it seemed to take him a great effort to speak. And he spoke of his own father dying and the sadness this had caused him, and I knew then how low Charles had become, for he had not ever spoken at length of this incident since we were first married and I had asked after his family. He did not like to speak of it, but on this occasion he told me the story of how his father had been so low that he had tried to take his own life, and then fallen into even greater despair when he was unsuccessful at this. So his father had tried again and again and eventually he succeeded. And that this story was reported in the papers. To hear the details, oh my, sir, they sounded so sorrowful, and here was my husband, fighting to keep his life, and telling me how his father had taken his own.

  And Charles sobbed as he spoke of this.

  Now, we had lost two children and had many heartbreaks and disappointments of our own, but I had never seen my husband cry in this way, and I think it was because he himself was ill, and it was the talking of his father’s death, which happened so long ago, that brought him to such sad tears.

  I think it was the shame of it, sir.

  It was as though in those last few days he had on Earth, when Charles thought himself to be dying, he wanted to clear his conscience. I held his hand and said he had played no part in his father’s actions and had no guilt to bear. And I said his own father had no guilt for taking his life, for if what Charles said was how it had occurred, then his father was not well at the time and could not be blamed. I told Charles that he had always been the best of fathers to his own children. And we both cried. But it was true enough, for he was always a very good father to his children.

  When we had finished a little weep, he said it was nice for us to be together and I said it was.

  And he thanked me for nursing him, and I said nothing, for I felt the tears coming just at that time, and I did not want to upset him by my crying, for as I have said, I am not normally a woman given to weeping and so I smiled and patted his hand.

  Then he slept for a time.

  When he woke, he was troubled and I said, What is it, my dear – as I had been calling him dear while he was so unwell – and I was thinking he was fretting over his father again, so I told him not to worry about this as he had done no wrong. He said it was not that, it was something else, and by this time his voice was barely more than a whisper. But he said he wanted to tell me something, another thing he worried upon.

  It was then he told me, sir, just at that moment, as we were sharing an intimacy, well, he told me that he had a wife previous and a child.

  At first I said to him that I had heard something of these rumours when we had married in Merriwa and I reminded him I had asked him at the time and he had said it was gossip, because I was thinking, sir, that he was worrying over a past argument between us, one we had many years before.

  And here he whispered yes, and I thought he was saying he remembered our discussing this gossip, but then he said, But she died and then the child, and before he could say more a pain gripped him.

  Now, you may understand the effect this had on me. I had been in this marriage for over twenty years and was only now hearing of this life my husband had before he m
et me, which we had discussed when I first heard the rumour as a new bride, and I was thinking how he had not shared this story with me in all those years.

  When his pain eased a little, I asked him had they been married before the law or just as a common man and wife, and he looked at me blankly and whispered, Who was married? and seemed to have forgotten what it was he had said. He was like that near the end. Just at that moment, a neighbour came to visit and Charles did not seem to recognise him, and I thought Charles’s mind was wandering and that his talk of the marriage and someone dying was just a confusion.

  But I worried all the same, as I had heard that gossip many years before. I did not know what I should do about him saying he had been married before me, or if it was even true, for he was badly affected by his illness at that time. I did not want to trouble him, but I also thought if Charles died then I would never find the truth of the matter. And I thought, If he has been married before, then perhaps he is still married to that woman, and when I stood up with him in the church all those years ago, perhaps it meant nothing. For he had not told me if she died before or after we were married, and so I was not sure.

  And what of the child? But then I thought, what of any of it, because he was confused, as I said – he was so very ill and his mind was wandering. And I was sure he had said he was a bachelor on our marriage certificate, and he would have said he was a widower, wouldn’t he?

  I thought a great deal on all these matters, sir, as I am sure you will understand, and even though my husband was so sick, and I was caring for him, these things worried me.

  But I was never able to ask him.

  Charles died later that afternoon.