by Joanna Lloyd
“I wondered if you would like to show Caroline your lovely garden, Mrs. Radcliffe? That will give William and myself time to deal with the trial,” said Cartel.
Electra gritted her teeth but graciously agreed. William turned away to hide his amusement, clearly aware of her opinion of Miss Cartel.
The ladies wandered for some time around the gardens where camellias, chrysanthemums, and native shrubs were flowering, and then over to the fruiting trees. Miss Cartel was fascinated with the abundance of fruit in the orchards and in the distant vineyards. Electra then led her down to the banks of the river.
“What luck for you to find yourself in such a position, Mrs. Radcliffe. Your husband is such a handsome and knowledgeable man and with such obvious wealth.”
Electra doused the urge to hit the pompous, insensitive woman. Then seeing Caroline’s wide-eyed innocence, realized she had no idea of the effect of her words.
She chose to ignore her first statement and answer the second. “Yes, I suppose he is rather handsome and has worked hard to build this farm. Do you have a special person waiting for you in London, Miss Cartel?”
The girl lowered her eyes. “Well, there was such a person but father was very much against the match. I have been sent to uncle so that I may forget him.” Her countenance changed to a radiant smile. “And I think I may just be able to do so.”
“Of that I have no doubt, Miss Cartel,” said Electra, running her hands down a leafy branch of the willow.
They remained for some time at the river’s edge, their eyes focused on the water’s movement as Caroline Cartel prattled on aimlessly.
Electra only half listened to the young woman as her mind wandered to the awkward uncertainty that existed between herself and William. Despite telling Shelagh she would not make it easy for him, his considerate behaviour was breaking down the hard edges of her anger. In fact, when she caught him watching her bathe baby Freddy the night he was so ill, there was a surprising depth of tenderness in William’s eyes. And later when she left the kitchen to make her way upstairs, she was sure he had gently put her to bed, kissing her forehead like a child. These actions contradicted her opinion that he sought only warmth for his bed from their union. Perhaps there was still some small capacity for affection, despite his past experiences.
A question concerning entertainment in the colony brought her attention back to the young woman. They discussed this topic for a while and when Electra considered a sufficient amount of time had passed, she suggested they walk back to the house. She returned the woman to her uncle with a begrudging invitation to visit again.
As they drove away, William cast a sideways glance at his wife. “Such a lovely young woman and so perceptive.”
Electra threw him a thunderous look and without a word, headed down to Shelagh’s cabin.
“I imagine he thought that was funny,” she mumbled, as she walked away.
• • •
His joke backfired two days later when another visitor arrived at Riverside.
“Captain Hawley! How delightful to see you. To what do we owe the pleasure?” asked Electra, tossing a smug look at William, who glowered at the man.
“Mr. Radcliffe. Mrs. Radcliffe. I apologize for coming unannounced but my ship is ready to sail and I leave tomorrow. I hope I have not come at an inconvenient time.”
“Not at all, captain. William is just heading off to the north paddock and I am ready for a cup of tea,” said Electra, hastily tidying her hair.
“Splendid timing then.”
“Yes. Splendid,” William muttered, loud enough for them both to hear, as he strode out to his horse.
As Electra organized tea and biscuits, she sensed Captain Hawley watching her. She looked up and caught the look of yearning in his eyes before he blinked and looked away.
“Is something wrong, captain?”
“Er, no, madam. I was just thinking how well you look.” He coughed and looked away, changing the subject. “And I was wondering if there were any errands I may run for you while in England. If you have engaged a lawyer to investigate your case further, perhaps I could pass on a message or letter?”
She relaxed. “That would be wonderful, captain.” She went on to tell him the governor had, on William’s request, made inquiries into her uncle’s present activities. There had been no response yet, but word had come by letter on a ship two weeks previously, that her uncle, not surprisingly, was spending more time gambling and drinking than managing the business. His behaviours had soiled his reputation considerably, and now might be the time to hold him to account.
• • •
Unable to concentrate on anything other than the man presently with his wife, William turned his horse back toward the house, meaning to be close enough to keep his eye on the captain. He told himself it was simple curiosity and his duty as a husband to protect her. Definitely nothing else behind his actions. But if the snake tried to touch her …
Damn, why was she so enticing?
So much so, the woman started a fire in his belly every time he laid eyes on her. So why would it be any different for the captain? He felt a surge of jealous anger race through his body at the obvious answer to his question.
William checked himself. What good would it do to show his vulnerability? He had little doubt she would leave as soon as the conditions of her pardon allowed it. Besides, even if for some reason she stayed, she would never stand his touching her, not after the last time. He had reached the house and could not resist happening to be in earshot as they spoke.
“And if your name was cleared and your uncle implicated in the crime, what then?” asked the captain.
She hesitated. “I suppose it would mean I could return to England.”
The captain’s voice rose an octave. “You mean you would leave your husband?”
“It is simply a marriage of convenience, and my husband would not despair if I left.”
The air left William’s lungs with a whoosh. The possibility of her leaving had become real.
Then he heard the captain jump from his chair and pace the floor agitatedly. No one spoke, so William moved to where he could see past the screens and into the room. To his utter disbelief, the captain knelt in front of Electra and held both her hands as he spoke.
“Forgive me for what I am about to say. But could I believe that sometime in the future, there may be hope for me?”
Although William wanted to burst into the room and drag the man out by the scruff of his neck, he also needed to hear her answer.
Electra slipped her hands out of Hawley’s grip. “Captain, please, you are married. As am I. This is inappropriate and embarrassing.”
Shaking his head, the captain resumed his seat. “I am no longer married, Electra. I received word soon after arriving that my wife had died, succumbing to the apoplexy that had rendered her an invalid for some years. It did not seem appropriate to come to you immediately and I then discovered you had married.”
William punched the stone wall, wishing it was the captain’s head and strode out of the house nursing his bruised knuckles. So the captain was free. He couldn’t bear to stay and hear what she said to that. What had he expected from her? Neither of them had married for love. And he had given her no reason to trust or respect him. He leapt onto his horse and digging his anger into the animal’s flanks, rode blindly across the fields.
Finally, more out of pity for the animal than himself, he reined to a stop. Two emotions battled for supremacy as he slid to the ground and stood looking out across the fields. The first was rage at the captain for his despicable impudence, and the second was frustration at the past continuing to infect his future. I’m a damned fool, he thought. A damned, pitiful fool.
He could almost see the chip on his shoulder, carried all these years since childhood. His father had never considered him a worthy son and invested all his hopes in William’s brother. When John died, he knew his father wished it had been him, despite a childhood spent pushing himself
to excel. And all for the sole purpose of winning his father’s favour. Instead of commending his remaining son’s valor on the battlefield, his father had betrayed him with Charlotte. He turned his head, surveying his land and wondered if even his success in the colony was in some way an attempt to impress the earl.
And now he found himself competing against the captain for his wife’s affections.
Goddamn them both!
He mounted his horse and rode out to join Callum, forcing himself to turn his thoughts to the fast approaching trial.
• • •
When William and the others arrived, the small courthouse was already filled with spectators. Most seats inside had been reserved for the exclusives and free settlers. The remaining seats were taken by first comers. The rest arranged themselves where they could, overflowing onto the veranda, the steps and out into the street. Even the girls from Miss Bridie’s had risen from their beds early to come and watch the proceedings.
Members of the corps were stationed inside the courthouse and around its perimeter. They had strict orders from the governor to deal harshly with any person attempting to pervert the course of justice.
The colony had not seen the like of a black being given such a trial, especially for the crime he was believed to have committed. William was aware most settlers meted out justice to the blacks through the barrel of a gun and many of the men he knew well refused to make eye contact when he approached.
The governor’s advisors had been loudly verbose about his unpopular and all-too-democratic decision. And letters to the king had already been dispatched requesting the governor be recalled.
William and the MacDonalds were seated inside; close enough to the prisoner’s dock for Bulanggi to see them and keep faith. As Electra was to be called as a witness, she would join them after her testimony had been given. Yaraay and Waruu, wriggling uncomfortably in their loose dresses, sat grimly with Billy beneath an old currajong tree within shouting distance of the courthouse.
Deputy Judge-Advocate Bromley peered imperiously over his pince-nez. The complacent set of his lips and his relaxed posture indicated he believed justice would be dispensed swiftly this day. The judge glanced sideways at the man beside him and scowled. It seemed to William that he was not pleased with the governor’s decision to invite Mr. Bartholomew Stern, a visiting senior jurist from the West Indies, to sit beside him on the bench.
A small distance from the prisoner’s dock sat an aboriginal man carrying the European name of Morrison. He was to interpret for the prisoner, whose English was inadequate for the court.
The clerk announced the commencement of proceedings in the Criminal Court of Sydney, New South Wales. The crowd, however, had not quieted.
Judge Bromley swung his gleaming walnut gavel onto the sound block, calling the restless spectators to order.
“We are here to deliberate on the matter of the Crown versus Mr. Bulanggi — ,” he glanced down to locate a surname but finding none continued, “Er, Mr. Bulanggi of the Burramattagal clan. The charge is indecent dealing with a child. How does the defendant plead?”
Cartel stood, leaned on the desk and stated loudly, “Not guilty, Your Honour.”
Boos and insults were hurled from the spectators, causing the gavel to strike the block once more.
“I will have respect in my court or the gallery will be cleared!” roared the judge.
No one wanted to miss the proceedings, and a deathly silence fell across the room.
Judge Bromley briefly addressed himself to both lawyers, pointing out there was little need for the usual formalities of opening addresses in the circumstances. Those circumstances, he was at pains to point out, were that there were two eminent justices on the bench and the case would be determined by them, solely by the evidence presented, not rhetoric.
He nodded at the prosecuting lawyer, Ewan Black, to present the crown case on behalf of the Purnells.
Mr. Black pasted a suitably grave expression on his face but his eyes spoke of expected triumph as he told of the lawless black savage creeping onto the Purnell’s property to watch for the child. He even surmised that the child had been lured down to the river by the black man. When pressed by Judge Stern to clarify what he imagined the lure might be, he shook his head saying it most probably took the form of native magic. This brought gasps from the crowd and prompted Mr. Cartel to leap to his feet protesting this fictional notion.
Bulanggi, understanding parts of the speech called out fearfully, “No sir, no purri purri.” Cartel gestured for him to stay quiet.
Mr. Black then called Mr. Charles Purnell to the witness box and began his questioning. When asked to relate the story, Purnell slowly looked around the room, shrewdly making eye contact with every parent present before speaking.
“You all know my little angel, Lucinda,” there were nods around the room. “She was dressed in a pretty blue dress, looked like a princess she did.” He raised his head, with a faraway look in his eye, as if savouring the memory. “Mrs. Purnell had told her she could play in the garden as long as she stayed close to the house and did not get dirty. But he,” he pointed at Bulanggi, “somehow lured her down to the river, pulled her into the water, and touched her as no man should touch a child.” The crowd were on their feet, calling out and shaking their fists, demanding justice.
Bulanggi sobbed and shook his head. “I not hurt ’im girl. No, no.”
Electra was grateful Waruu and Yaraay were not in the room to see his distress.
Wearily, the judge called for order and Mr. Black, with a smug grin, continued his questioning.
“And how do you know the man touched little Lucinda?”
“Because Mrs. Purnell ran down to find Lucinda and saw the man. His arms were around her, and his filthy black hands were stroking her back.”
Spectators exchanged horrified looks.
Mr. Purnell continued, “Mrs. Purnell screamed for me and I ran with my gun to shoot the black bastard, but he was too slippery and got away.”
Mr. Black swayed back onto the heels of his shoes and spoke to the crowd. “Well, as you can see, Mr. Purnell, he can’t get away now.” The nods and smiles rippling through the room indicated the crowd was with him.
He did not bother to call any other witnesses.
Mr. Cartel was then invited to cross-examine Mr. Purnell. He asked him to explain why he assumed, when seeing Bulanggi holding the wet child, that he had acted inappropriately.
“Why else would he be in such a position with a white child? My daughter may never recover from this shocking experience. Any fool could see what he was up to.”
“Perhaps it was a fool who saw what he was up to, eh, Mr. Purnell?” There were sniggers from one corner of the room and Mr. Stern tried to hide his amused expression. Purnell missed the insult. “I understand you have refused to allow your wife to take the stand as a witness. As she was the one who found your daughter in the first place, why would you not want her testimony to be heard?”
“My wife is a nervous and shy woman who would not have the fortitude to withstand the rigors of court examination. Besides, both my wife and child clearly described to me what happened,” Purnell responded.
Cartel seemed to consider this statement. “In that case, may I ask what exactly your child’s words were when asked what happened?”
Purnell shifted uncomfortably on his seat and cleared his throat. “Well, you must understand, she was extremely distressed and confused, being just a small child.”
“So are you saying she did not say anything that clearly indicated the defendant behaved inappropriately?”
Purnell’s eyes blazed. “I am saying nothing of the sort. It would be obvious to anyone that such stress and confusion would only be from something like this happening. She was unable to eat, play, or even speak for many days afterwards.”
Cartel raised his eyebrows. “I am sorry to hear that, sir. Unfortunately, I am still no clearer on what she may have said to you that would make this c
ourt decide to hang a man. Might I ask again, what exactly did she say had happened?”
“This is ridiculous. Everyone in this courtroom knows what has happened to my little girl and the sooner that monster is hanged, the safer our homes will be.” This was greeted with a chorus of, “Hear! Hear!” and nods from the gallery.
Cartel left the question and turned to the bench. “Just one more question Your Honours, if I may? Mr. Purnell, was your daughter anxious that her dress was wet and dirty that day?”
“What sort of question is that?” blustered Purnell. “Of course not. It was never mentioned. Why would she worry about her dress when she’d been touched by that black mongrel?”
Cartel indicated he had no more questions for the witness. Black rose and officially rested the case for the prosecution. Electra was called to the witness stand.
Ewan Black stood up suddenly, protesting to the judges that Mrs. Radcliffe would not be a reliable witness as she was an ex-convict. A rush of heat ran up William’s neck at the insult. He jumped from his seat, ready to do murder. Callum grabbed his arm to stop him lunging at Black from behind. Electra’s eyes dropped down to her lap, where, William was sure, her hands would be shaking. Not only because of this court’s proceedings, but at the memory of the last time she was in a courtroom.
Surprisingly, Cartel stood and smiled. “Then we had best strike Mr. Purnell’s statement from the record for the same reason and call a mistrial, as the prosecution has no witnesses who are not ex-convicts.”
Black flushed and glared at Cartel. “Objection withdrawn, Your Honours.”
All eyes swivelled back to Electra.
“Mrs. Radcliffe, would you please tell the court of your experience the day after the alleged incident?”
She glanced at William, who nodded encouragement as she began. “I visited Mrs. Purnell and Lucinda the day after the alleged incident. The child ran up to greet me with no hesitation, even though I was a stranger. She was in high spirits and chatted happily with me while her mother made us tea. I had brought some small cakes, and Lucinda ate one and requested another.” She stopped and glanced up at Mr. Cartel.